Night Shield by Nora Roberts Page A

tightened on his glass, but his eyes were mild as he turned to Frannie. “What?”
    She pulled a beer, poured a bump, then served it. “A guy could get arrested for looking at a woman that way. I think it’s called intent or something. What you intend is pretty clear, at least when she’s not looking.”
    “Really?” And that, he realized, was another worry. “Then I’d better watch myself.”
    “She’s doing plenty of watching,” Frannie murmured as he walked away.
    “The man’s got trouble on the brain,” Will commented. He liked coming over to Frannie’s end of the bar so he could get a whiff of her hair or maybe work a smile out of her.
    “He’s got woman on the brain. And he’s not altogether easy with this one.” She winked at him and squirted a glass of the soft drink Will drank by the gallon during working hours.
    “Women never trouble the man.”
    “This one does.”
    “Well.” He sipped his drink, scanned the bar crowd. “She’s a looker.”
    “That’s not it. Looks are surface stuff. This one’s got him down in the gut.”
    “You think?” Will tugged on his little beard. He didn’t understand women and didn’t pretend to. To him they were simply amazing creatures of staggering power and wonderful shapes.
    “I know.” She patted Will’s hand and had his heart throbbing in his throat.
    “Two margaritas, frozen with salt, two house drafts and a club soda with lime.” Jan set down her tray and walked her fingers up Will’s arm in a teasing, tickling motion. “Hey, big guy.”
    He blushed. He always did. “Hey, Jan. I better do a round in the club.”
    He hurried off and had Frannie shaking her head at Jan. “You shouldn’t tease him like that.”
    “I can’t help it. He’s so sweet.” She flipped her hair back. “Listen, there’s this party tonight. I’m going by after closing. Want to tag along?”
    “After closing I’m going to be home, in my own little bed, dreaming of Brad Pitt.”
    “Dreaming never gets you anywhere.”
    “Don’t I know it,” Frannie muttered and sent the blender whirling.
    *  *  *
    Allison carried a full tray of empties and had two tables’ worth of drink orders in the pad tucked in her bar apron. Only thirty minutes into shift, she thought. It was going to be a long night. Longer, she realized when she spotted Jonah coming toward her.
    “Allison, I’d like to speak with you.” About something, anything. Five minutes alone with you might do it. Pitiful. “Would you come up to my office on your break?”
    “Problem?”
    “No,” he lied. “No problem.”
    “Fine, but you’d better tell Will. He guards your cave like a wolf.”
    “Take your break now. Come up with me.”
    “Can’t. Thirsty people waiting. But I’ll shake loose as soon as I can if it’s important.” She walked away quickly because she’d heard it, that underlying heat that told her what he wanted with her had nothing to do with duty.
    She stopped at her station beside Pete and ordered herself to settle down. Since he was in the middle of entertaining three of the stool-sitters with a long, complicated joke, she took the time to rest her feet and study the people scattered at table and bar.
    A twentysomething couple who looked like they were on the leading edge of an argument. Three suits with ties loosened arguing baseball. A flirtation, in its early stages, starting to cook between a lone woman and the better-looking of a pair of guys at the bar. Lots of eye contact and smiles.
    Another couple at a table laughing together over some private joke, holding hands, she noted, flirting some even though the hands wore wedding rings. Well married, happy and financially secure if the designer handbag on the back of the woman’s chair and the matching shoes were any indication.
    At the next table another couple sat having a quiet conversation that seemed to please them both. There was an intimacy there as well, Ally noted. Body language, gestures, the smiling looks