She took the cell from her ear and pressed the End button. It hurt her more than it would hurt her brother. To constantly help him out had probably contributed to him failing at everything he touched. After all, she was his safety net. No wonder Steve had no incentive to make things work: he knew he could always fall back on her. Maybe it was time for him to learn to rely on his own wits.

With a sigh Rochelle set the cell on the bar and emptied her cocktail.

“Family problems?” the bartender asked, approaching her with a pitying smile.

She rolled her eyes. “Unfortunately we can’t choose our siblings.”

He nodded. “Yeah, you’re not the only one with that problem.” He motioned to her empty glass. “Another one?”

“Yes, please.”

While he went about mixing her drink, Rochelle let her eyes roam around the bar. It was quiet. Only a few guests were sitting around the small tables, talking quietly. From the speakers, modern jazz music provided a pleasant ambiance. Normally Rochelle didn’t go out in Midtown, but tonight she’d had to run an errand after work and had passed by the inviting bar by chance. A little stressed from work and the pressure her boss was putting on her, she’d entered without much ado.

“Here you go.” The bartender placed a drink in front of her and offered his hand. “Lance.”

She shook it. “Rochelle,” she introduced herself. “Is it always this quiet here?”

“Occasionally on Mondays, but from Thursday through Saturday, it’s hopping in here. Today it’s mostly regulars.” He paused. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

“I work downtown and I live in the East Village. I’m rarely in this neighborhood. But tonight I needed a drink.”

Lance motioned to the cell. “Because of that?”

She sighed. If Steve were her only problem, her life would be a piece of cake. But there was plenty going on at work, which made her uncomfortable, her boss Todd Yochum being one of those problems. Ever since she’d made it clear to him that she wasn’t interested in him, he’d been putting her under pressure. If he hoped to soften her up that way, he was wrong. The homeless guy at the bus stop had a better chance of getting into her pants than her arrogant boss.

“Among other things. Unfortunately my brother constantly has money trouble and thinks I’m his private bank.”

“Well, at least my siblings know that they wouldn’t get far with me when it comes to money.” He motioned to the bar around him. “Unfortunately this doesn’t belong to me. I only work here. Do you work on Wall Street?”

Lance probably meant, did she work for a stockbroker, so she let him believe it. “Something like that. How long have you tended bar here?”

“A few years. It’s fun. I meet a lot of interesting people.” The door opened and Lance glanced in its direction. “Ah, a regular. Excuse me for a moment, please.” He nodded at her and walked to the other end of the long wooden bar.

“Hey, Zach! How’s it going?”

Rochelle took a sip from her drink and allowed the delicious liquid to coat her throat.

“Long day,” the newcomer answered.

His voice was deep and soothing, and Rochelle couldn’t help but toss a look in his direction. The man wore a dark suit.

“The usual?”

“I need something a little stronger today.” He motioned to the row of whiskey bottles that lined the back of the bar. “Maker’s Mark, neat.”

Rochelle let her eyes glide over the man, whom Lance had addressed as Zach. His profile was elegant. A straight nose, strong cheekbones, a square chin. He had a five-o’clock shadow. His hair was dark, almost black, and short. His hand lay on the bar and he wore no rings on his fingers. Oddly relieved, Rochelle raised her gaze back to his face.

Her breath caught.

Zach was looking straight at her. Judging by his facial expression, he’d noticed that she was examining him as if he were standing on an auction block.

Heat rose inside her and made her cheeks flame. Quickly she turned her head away and reached for her glass. But even the sip of her cold cocktail couldn’t cool her down. Hand trembling, she set the glass back down on the bar. She wanted to use her hands to wave cool air at her face, but she couldn’t, because the hot man at the other end of the bar would see it.

Yes, the hot man, because that’s what he was. If she’d thought he’d looked good in profile view, that was nothing compared to seeing his full face. He was more than just attractive. His eyes were piercing blue and surrounded by dark lashes. Strong eyebrows framed them. And his lips, they were full and strong. How would they feel on her skin?