Samuel McKeifer dropped a slice of lime in the gin and tonic he'd prepared before glancing up again. She still sat at table six. She'd been sitting there, alone, for over an hour, nursing a plain Coke.

She hadn't been alone earlier this evening. He'd seen her with three other women in the restaurant when he'd arrived at 7:00, sitting at a table close to the bar. Having to go right to work meant he couldn't pay as much attention to her as he'd liked, but he'd taken every opportunity he had to look at her.

She'd left with the other men shortly before 8:00. At 9:00, he'd looked up to see her at the table twelve feet away from him.

His heart had skipped at least three beats.

With his employee Monte Gaines now helping mix drinks, Sam had more chances to admire her. Dark brown, wavy hair fell well past her shoulders. Her high cheekbones, straight nose, large eyes, and generous lips combined to create a stunning face. The long-sleeved dark red T-shirt she wore showed off her full breasts. He couldn't see below her waist because of the table, but what he could see stirred his interest.

It'd been a long time since a woman stirred his interest.

Monte reached past Sam to pick up a towel from the bar. "Where did all these people come from? It's almost eleven and the restaurant is still packed. Is it a full moon or what?"

"Actually, there is a full moon tonight."

"Shit. I should've stayed home. All the crazies come out when the moon is full."

"Those crazies give good tips."

"Yeah, I guess." He wiped up the few drops of scotch he'd dribbled on the bar. "Did you se the gal at table six? Man, those tits are big enough for their own ZIP code!"

A flash of irritation made Sam frown. He and Monte had been friends for a long time. They often told lewd jokes and made comments about the people in the restaurant and bar, but Monte's disrespectful remark about her made him angry.

He didn't understand why.

"Look at all that long hair," Monte continued. "I'll bet she's got a bush--"

"Watch it," Sam said softly.

Monte's eyebrows drew together. "What's wrong?"

Not wanting to tell Monte the truth and appear foolish when he didn't even know that woman, Sam nodded toward the couple standing a few feet away. "Customers."

"Oops. Sorry." He grinned. "You gotta admit, she's hot. And alone. I wonder what she's doing when I get off?"

Sam wondered the same thing, only for himself. He'd never been a fan of one-night stands; he'd rather be involved with one woman. Lately, the relationships he'd become involved in had turned sour quickly. It's been several months since he'd been with a woman. After his last relationship ended, he'd sworn off them...at least for awhile.

Looking at her sitting there alone made him think it might be time to reconsider his beliefs on one-night stands. If one night was all he could have with her, he'd take it.

Cheryl Heppler, his weekend waitress, set her tray on the end of the bar. "Hey, Sam, I need two bourbons and seven, a Manhattan, a scotch on the rocks, two gin and tonics, a Sex On The Beach, an Agent Orange, a Diamond Fizz, two Cayman Sunsets, and a Bailey's."

Sam reached for a glass to begin preparing the Manhattan. "And you remembered all that without writing it down?"

Cheryl grinned. "That's why I'm worth every cent you pay me. Oh, and a plain Coke too."

The mention of a plain Coke had Sam glancing at table six to see if she was still there.

"Is the Coke for table six?"

Cheryl glanced over her shoulder at the table Sam mentioned. "No, she said she was fine." Returning her attention to Sam, she began loading her tray as he completed each drink. "She's been nursing that Coke for a long time. It should be pretty flat by now."

"Maybe I should take her a fresh one, just to be nice," Monte said.

"Maybe you should finish Cheryl's order and I'll take her a drink."

Monte frowned. "Why should you go?"

"Because I sign your paychecks."

"Good reason. Why don't I finish Cheryl's order and you take her a drink?"

* * * * *

Lindsay Cunningham couldn't resist looking at the handsome bartender again. She'd sat here for over an hour, sipping a watered-down Coke, just because her heart fluttered every time she glanced his way.

How silly for a thirty-year-old woman to be obsessed with good looks. She knew better than to let a set of bedroom eyes or kissable lips make her melt. Her experiences with good-looking men had only led to heartache.

But then, she hadn't seen a man so absolutely edible in a long time.

He had dark brown hair that covered his ears, swept across his forehead, and touched his collar in back. There was a hint of wave in it, enough to wrap around a woman's fingers as she ran her hands through it. That same brown hair was repeated in his thick mustache. H wore a medium blue, button-down shirt with the long sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The top two buttons were loose, letting her catch a glimpse of dark chest hair when the lights above the bar hit him just right. Broad shoulders filled out that shirt to perfection. A wide, strong chest tapered down to a trim waist and flat stomach.

She wondered if he was as gorgeous from the waist down.

Lindsay propped her elbow on the table and leaned her head on her fist. She swished her straw within the small slivers of ice while she released a heavy sigh. It didn't make any difference what he looked like anyway, since she'd never see him again. She didn't frequent bars on a regular basis, even if that bar was connected to her favorite restaurant.

Her three best friends had brought her here to the Sweetwater Saloon for dinner to celebrate her thirtieth birthday. Located on the West Side close to Capital Mall, it had opened two years ago and had quickly become the most popular eating establishment in Olympia. A raised floor under the bar separated it from the restaurant. The overhead lights were a bit dimmer here, and every table held a pillar candle inside a hurricane glass. The service was fast and friendly, the food scrumptious. The decor was eclectic--incredible scenery painting hung next to cartoon characters of the Old West, shelves held silk flower arrangements sitting next to antique coffee pots and scrub boards, photographs of animals and people lay on the tables beneath clear plastic. Lindsay liked coming here simply to sit and look at the decorations, for they changed often.

She did not like coming here to celebrate another birthday.

Despite growing up with her parents constantly sniping at each other, an older sister and brother who were both divorced, and most of her friends either divorced or separated, Lindsay had hoped she could be different...that she could find that special someone to fill the loneliness in her heart. She'd tried. She'd dated, she'd had lovers, even fallen in love twice. Every relationship she'd ever been involved in ended in heartache.

Hitting the Big Three-Oh with no one to celebrate it except girlfriends had finally made Lindsay realize that's the way it was meant to be for her. Some people got the short end of the stick when it came to happily ever after. She just happened to be one of those people.

So here she sat, alone in a bar, feeling sorry for herself.

Well, no more. She didn't need a man in her life; she didn't want a man in her life. She had a job she loved, a small house that would be hers in seventeen years, and wonderful friends. Other than for sex, what good was a man anyway? He left the set up, his dirty clothes on the floor, and a mess in the kitchen. Lindsay had better ways to spend her time than picking up after a slob.

But there were times, like now, that she craved a man's touch.

A masculine hand holding a glass of Coke came into her view. He set the glass on the table next to her almost-empty one.

"I thought you might like a fresh drink."

Lindsay looked up into the face of the bartender. She couldn't help but let her gaze travel down his body to his crotch. He wore black pants that were tight enough to show the impressive bulge of his penis. Yep, just as nice from the waist down.

"Thank you." She reached for her small purse lying on the table. His gentle touch on her shoulder stopped her.

"It's on the house."

That voice was absolutely mesmerizing. Rich and deep, it flowed over her like heavy syrup. She'd be happy to sit and listen to him talk for the rest of the night.

Well, maybe talking wouldn't be the only thing she'd be happy to do with him...

"Thank you again."

"My pleasure."

She watched his gaze drop to her breasts and linger there for a moment before he looked at her face again. Lindsay was used to men ogling her large breasts. Normally, she ignored their rude stares. The way he looked at her didn't feel rude. It felt sensuous and hot and made her long for his hands on her.

"Hey, Sam."

He turned his head toward the other man behind the bar. "Yeah?"

"Can you grab a bottle of Johnny Walker Black out of the storeroom?"

"Sure." He looked at Lindsay again. "Duty calls."

"I understand."

Lindsay watched him walk toward a door halfway between the restrooms and the bar. The view of his back and buttocks was every bit as nice as the view of his front. And she'd always loved the name "Sam".

He took a key ring from his pocket, unlocked the door, and went into what she assumed was the storeroom. I wonder what he'd do if I went in there with him, closed the door, and attacked him?

Chuckling, Lindsay took a sip of her fresh Coke. As if she'd ever do anything like that. She couldn't possibly consider sex with a man when their entire conversation had consisted of less than ten sentences.

But then, why not?

Lindsay had never been shy, but she was conservative. She'd never had sex with a man on the first date. She'd never asked a man out, believing he should be the one to take the first step. Her girlfriends all said she was too old-fashioned, that she should move into the twenty-first century.

Maybe she should. Maybe it was time for her to do something she'd never done, something totally out of her character.

Lindsay unzipped her purse and peeked inside at the three condoms her girlfriend Rita Moore had pushed across the table at dinner. The four women had been talking about sex--one of Rita's favorite topics--and she had calmly laid the condoms on the table with instructions for Lindsay to "use them."

Her other friends had giggled while Lindsay quickly scooped them up and stuck them in her purse. Part of her was mortified that Rita would do that in a public place. Another part of her was intrigued by the thought of picking up a man she'd just met and having wild, uninhibited sex.

Glancing toward the bar, she saw that Sam had returned to work. She felt a strong attraction to him, there was no doubt of that. And the way he'd looked at her when he brought her the Coke made her believe he felt an attraction, too.

So, what's stopping you, Lindsay?

Sam no longer being in the storeroom, for one thing. She couldn't very well start tearing off his clothes with customers watching their every move.

Lindsay looked at her watch. Eleven-twenty. There were still a few people in the bar, but the restaurant had finally emptied except for two couples. The Saloon closed at midnight. She had forty more minutes left of her birthday. She wanted it to end with a special present.

She wanted it to end with Sam coming inside her.

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