she didn’t want to win him anyway.
With her index finger, she poked Jack so hard in the chest he actually stumbled back, though only in surprise. “Look here, you arrogant, judgmental, luscious—”
Walking backward, he grinned. “Luscious?”
Blood red clouded her vision. “You egotistical, daredevil…man!” She drew a deep breath before continuing her tirade. “It’s been a really long week, and I don’t have the time or the inclination to explain to you the finer points of retail sales management, except to say you never…and I mean never prejudge a customer. The woman who walks through my front door wearing ripped blue jeans and a ratty T-shirt may have more money than the queen of England. Flash and her friends have the right to shop anywhere they please, regardless of what any close-minded creep thinks about their purchases!”
Jack’s jaw hardened. “Creep?”
Flash appeared at her side. “Problem, Skyler?”
Skyler spared a brief glance at her customer. “No. This is a personal thing.”
“Right. A problem.” Flash’s dark eyes narrowed. She advanced toward Jack, her gang flanking her. “He may look big, honey, but trust me the girls and I can handle him.”
“No. Really, I can—”
Before Skyler could finish, Flash swung.
Instinctively, Skyler stepped in front of Jack. The fist intended for Jack’s jaw landed squarely against Skyler’s left eye.
“Oh, damn,” she muttered just before she jolted backward against Jack’s chest and passed out cold.
“SKYLER…CAN YOU HEAR ME?” Jack’s voice sounded as if it was echoing down a long tunnel.
Skyler moaned, then blinked. She lay on the floor of the bar, with Jack’s arm cradling her neck. His handsome face loomed over her, along with Flash, her gang and several other people she didn’t recognize.
“Hey, Gus, how about some ice?” Jack suggested.
“Frozen peas are better,” someone said.
Flash shoved the speaker. “Where are we gonna get frozen peas, stupid?”
“Hey, babe,” the guy next to Flash said, his eyes narrowing, “don’t push him.”
Flash grabbed the front of his shirt. “Shut up!”
“Uh—” Skyler began, trying to raise her head, but the pounding around her eye forced her to lie back down.
Jack’s fiercely concerned face and wide chest suddenly blocked her view of the other people, though she could still hear Flash shouting at someone. “I’m gonna carry you to a booth, oui?” Caution darkened his eyes. After her tirade earlier, she could hardly blame him.
She tried to nod, found that hurt, so she mumbled, “Please.”
Held next to Jack’s firm, muscled chest two times in the same day, she marveled. Maybe her luck with men was changing. Right. Punched in the eye and near discovery of her secret. Her luck was changing all right, and not for the better.
Even though proximity to Jack was a bad idea and pain pulsed through her eye, she couldn’t help but inhale the smoky, spicy scent emanating from his skin. As she wrapped her arms around his neck, his muscles bunched, and she let him coddle her. An impulse she’d regret like so many others, no doubt.
When he placed her in the vinyl booth, she sighed with regret.
Gus handed Jack a plastic bag of crushed ice. “Try this.”
Jack laid the cold pack against her face, and she flinched. “Sorry.” He cradled her cheek in his palm. “It’ll help the swelling.”
“Swelling?” Perfect. She might never look in a mirror again. And how in the world was she going to explain this to her brothers?
Across the room several voices rose in volume, but Skyler had her own troubles at the moment, so she pushed aside the distraction. Now that the initial stinging from the ice had passed, the cold had numbed the area enough for her to think straight again.
She had to get out of here. Immediately. Quietly. Just after she gained the sworn silence of everyone in the bar. The black eye she would no doubt have in the morning would be hard enough to explain—maybe she could go for the old “walked into a door” story—but she couldn’t let her brothers find out about Jack’s connection to her injury. He’d get fired, or worse, thinking again of Boyfriend #2—the lake dweller. Glug, glug, glug…
Leaning sideways, she considered her need to protect Jack only briefly—she shouldn’t, couldn’t care—as she peered around his wide shoulders, hoping to spot a back door.
Instead, she saw Flash shove someone. Flanking their leader, her friends planted their fists on their hips. The men across from them leaned forward, their jaws jutted forward. The antagonists began circling each other. The other bar patrons backed away to watch. Money was exchanged.
Central Casting couldn’t have scripted a better rumble.
“I’m taking you to the firehouse,” Jack said. “I have meds and—”
Distracted from the alarming scene across the bar, Skyler blinked up at Jack. Then ground her teeth together from the pain of focusing. “I just want to go home.” The crowd cheered. God only knew what was happening with the fight. “Now.” She scooted by Jack out of the booth.
As she stood, the room spun. “Damn.” She held her arm out to balance herself. She was not going to faint again.
Jack’s strong arm slid around her waist. “Change of plans. You’re goin’ to the emergency room.”
“No.” Wesley and Steve knew—and had dated—nearly every nurse in the hospital. “I have Tylenol at home.”
Crash!
The sound of shattering glass echoed through the bar.
“What in the hell…” Jack began, obviously noticing the rumble for the first time.
“Terrific,” Gus said in disgust just as one of the men tossed a bowl of beer nuts at Flash. She retaliated by pouring a mug of beer over his head.
In one smooth, quick motion, Jack picked up Skyler and deposited her in the booth. “I’ll be right back.”
Before she could so much as blink—and the blinking hurt like hell—he’d started across the room.
What in the world was he doing? Skyler wondered in horror as she watched him stride purposefully into the fray. He’s a hero, remember? A reckless, foolish—
He ducked a handful of pretzels flying through the air, stepped over a puddle of chicken wing sauce, then grabbed the thrower by the front of his shirt, as Skyler stared in fascination. Flash charged toward him on the other side, but Jack merely held her back by grabbing her shoulder.
“Let’s all calm down,” he said.
A couple of guys in the crowd, not liking the interference, tossed nacho chips—cheese included—at Jack. The chips fluttered uselessly at his feet, but the thick, orangy sauce landed with a plop in his hair.
Skyler winced. That stuff was going to be nasty to get out when it dried.
The room fell silent for a second or two, then all hell broke loose.
Beer nuts flew. Chicken bones sailed. Chips crunched beneath boots. Shouts echoed off the walls. People slid through pools of cheese sauce and beer.
It was a smelly, slippery, icky mess. Skyler debated between throwing herself into the middle as the voice of reason, or remaining safely in the booth and laughing her fanny off.
“Anybody who smashes a glass gets arrested,” Gus shouted into the confusion.
Jack disappeared behind the