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He is not scrumptious?
Who is he?
The bartender at The Menger Hotel in San Antonio, Texas, Luke Hurley has the hots for one of his customers whom he sees rarely.
She kills him with her looks. And just who does she resemble?
Rita Hayworth.
This is My Main Man in my newest, out tomorrow, MORE THAN YOU KNOW from http://decadentpublishing.com .
More
Than You Know by Cerise DeLand
One redhead. One bartender. Lots of laughter. A desire so tender that
the sheets they burn up together could set the hotel on fire. But can he
intrigue a woman who’s older? What if he never lets her out of bed? Will she
still want him tomorrow?
Excerpt, Copyright 2012, Cerise
DeLand. All rights reserved.
“Hi, Luke Hurley.” His
redhead stood right in front of him, beaming at him so the world glowed
suddenly more brightly in this dark crowded room.
“Hi, there,” he said to her,
as she inched closer to the bar. “I’m so glad you came in.”
“Thish has got to be Rita. Right?” Teresa took a slow gander at the
woman he had told her kept him awake at night.
“Rita?” asked the lady in
question, looking humored. “I’m—“
“Rita Hayworth. You bet!”
Teresa clamped a hand on his lady’s arm and peered at her like an X-ray
machine. “Luke, you pegged her. That is
who she looks like. Gee. Lucky you, huh?”
Rita questioned him with a
sideways grin. “Luke, I—”
“Teresa is my friend,” he explained,
trying to keep Rita here until he got her phone number and her real name.
“I’m his copyeditor!” Teresa
put in. “His friend.”
“Yes, Teresa, and the lady
would like to have her arm back.”
“Oh, don’t chu worry yourself
none, Luke and Rita. I am leaving. I am!”
He turned back to his
redhead. “I’m glad you came in tonight. I’ve been trying to find out your name.
Went to the catering manager and asked about the wedding here tomorrow, but she
says the mother of the groom is a platinum blonde and short.”
“She is,” Rita exclaimed,
little chuckles escaping her.
Someone shouted out that he
had to stop holding hands with the bombshell and take his order. Where was his
assistant bartender? He looked around but tugged at Rita’s hand.
“Okay, okay!” Luke told him,
but zeroed in on Rita. “I want to call you. Ask you to dinner or drinks.
Coffee, anything. I need your phone number.”
“Really? Oh, Luke, please let
me—”
“I’ll find a pencil and pad.
And by the way, that gown is unbelievable.” He had to tame his voice so he could
speak about the gold-sequined mermaid thing that made his cock twitch. “I think
I just went blind. Don’t move.”
He strode toward the register,
found what he needed and stepped toward her.
But her son and Blondie
appeared beside her. Blondie was pouting. The son raked his hair.
“I’m sorry. Tamara,” Rita bit
off the words, never looking at her future daughter-in-law as she took Luke’s
pen and wrote on his paper. “But I am the one who brought up Josh. And I will
sit in the first pew. If you or your parents don’t like it, too bad. And Josh,
if your father or his new wife don’t like it, tough.”
Luke watched the family
drama, realizing why he hadn’t been able to learn Rita’s name. She was the
divorced wife of Mr. Silver-haired Banker. And judging from the close ages of
stepmother and son, Rita might actually be wife numero dos.
The
son cursed. “Tam, I want her to sit in the front pew. This is my mother, and
she deserves to take precedence.”
Ouch.
Luke couldn’t help but
look at Rita, who locked her gaze on his and grinned.
Blondie stomped her foot. “I
won’t do this to my daddy. He wants this to look good for his friends. You know
how he is about marriages made in heaven and no divorce.”
“Well, Tam, next to golf,
divorce is my father’s favorite pastime,” Josh retorted, as Blondie huffed and
made a beeline toward the door. “Aw, hell. Mom, what can I do here?”
Before Rita could answer, he
fled. To Luke’s dismay, Rita raised her hands in frustration, threw him an
apologetic look and followed her son.
Luke pounded his fist on the
bar and the pad of paper jumped with the blow. Numbers and words bounced
around. He grabbed the sheet.
Room
428. Rita
“Ricardo!” Luke
called out to his assistant, as he ripped off his bar apron. “Take over here.”
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