Oh yes, she did want him. The want was like a fever inside her.
“It was hot,” she whispered back, moving to set yet another unfinished cup of coffee on the counter.
“You want me, Janey.”
She turned her back to him, gripping the counter with desperate fingers as she closed her eyes and fought the need. No, she didn’t want him; she loved him. She loved him with a strength she hadn’t believed in herself. That was, she’d loved him until this morning. Until he had offered her marriage, without the love.
“Want isn’t enough.” She shook her head, feeling him behind her, feeling his breath at her neck.
“Do you love me , Janey?”
She blinked against the tears that would have fallen. She wasn’t going to cry for him.
Turning back to him, she lifted her gaze to his, forcing the emotion back, forcing the pain back. It didn’t matter what she felt, she told herself. It never had. All the wanting in the world wouldn’t change that.
“You don’t believe in love, Alex. So it doesn’t matter one way or the other, does it?”
THIRTEEN
Mackay’s Café was packed. With the addition of new chefs, a decent kitchen staff, and serious managing, the restaurant was attaining a reputation not just for the fact that it was run by the traitor’s daughter, but for its food, its service, and the fact that Janey allowed herself to be on display.
She had watched Dayle Mackay’s haphazard management of the restaurant for years. It was no more than a front then, a way to launder the money the militia filtered through its ranks. Now it was kicking some serious ass.
At eight that evening they had a full house, tables filled no sooner than they were emptied and cleaned, and a small waiting list on the off chance of a cancellation.
Janey was kept on her feet, moving through the restaurant, seating customers, fielding questions and comments. And compliments.
She was seating a table of six when she knew the night was going to go to hell.
It began with Natches and Alex walking up to the hostess station and standing, rather patiently. Natches wasn’t always patient. He was wearing his motorcycle chaps and a leather jacket, his hair was windblown, his face roughened from the cold. Alex was dressed in jeans and the long-sleeved gray striped shirt he had worn that morning, boots, and a hip-length leather jacket that absolutely did not do a damned thing to hide from Natches that hickey on his neck.
“I hope you enjoy your meal.” She smiled to the occupants of the table as they sat down and accepted
their menus. “Your server will be right with you.”
She turned, caught the eye of the waitress for that section, and motioned her over to the table before moving to the reception area.
Natches had that look in his eyes that warned everyone around him not to push him. Alex’s expression was pretty much as it had been when she left him that morning. Stony. Cool. He wasn’t pleased with her and that was just too bad.
“I don’t have any tables free, Natches,” she told her brother. “You and Alex will have to eat in the kitchen if you’re hungry.”
“I own the place. Surely I can have a table,” he drawled, drawing the attention of everyone close enough to hear them.
Hoyt spoke up behind her. “Ms. Mackay, we have a cancellation on table fourteen in twenty-five minutes.”
“And we have a waiting list.” She turned to her manager with a bright smile. “Perhaps you should call the Daltons and let them know we have a table if they can be here in time.”
Hoyt stared back at her helplessly before glancing to Natches and Alex. The younger man hero-worshipped both Natches and Alex. Turning them down would break his heart.
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. They can wait for the table in the office.” She turned back to Natches. “You can wait in the office.”
“You can come with us.”
Before she could avoid him, he had hold of her arm and was pulling her through the restaurant to the short hall and the large office past the restrooms.
Oh, this so wasn’t good. Natches hadn’t dragged her around like a puppy since she was five years old.
Unlocking the office door, he pushed her inside before following. At least he released her before moving into the well-appointed room with a disgusted breath.
“Bastard liked his comfort, didn’t he?” He stared around the office at the leather seating arrangement and glass table. The desk was Janey’s addition. Scarred and comfortable, it beat the contemporary modern glass one Dayle Mackay had had before his arrest.
“And I like keeping myself in comfort.” Janey propped her hand on her hip, flicked her gaze to where Alex leaned against the wall, his eyes narrowed on her, then back to Natches. “What the hell is up with this? I have work to do if you don’t mind, and dealing with you in a snit isn’t conducive to that job.”
“Stan Johnson called from the newspaper a few hours ago,” he informed her as he took a seat on the corner of her desk. “Says you put an ad in the paper.”
Janey lifted her chin before shooting Alex an accusing glance. “He wasn’t supposed to tell you.”
Natches shot her a hard grin. “He’s more scared of me than he is of you, sis. He squealed like a rat.”
Janey grimaced at the image. Actually, Johnson probably reminded some people of just that rodent.
“And how is this his business?” She nodded to Alex.
“You carry matching hickeys,” Natches snapped. “You made it his business.”
Great. She barely managed to keep from lifting her hand to cover the mark everyone had been staring at that evening.
“Like hell.” She shot Alex a scowl.
“We’re not going to argue over this,” Natches told her coldly. “I’ve done had my spat with Alex; I’m not following up with you. I’ll tell you the same thing I told him.”
“And that is?” She jerked her head to him, feeling the anger beginning to clench inside her.
“When you hire a new manager, this place closes down,” he told her. “I’ll burn the bastard to the ground as I should have six months ago. You got me?”
“You’re not the only owner, Natches.” Janey could feel it. She hated it. She could feel the anger beginning to build, to crash past the shield she kept around it. “Don’t walk in here and think you can order me around, because I won’t fight with you. I’ll call your wife.”