‘‘I’m not in any hurry.’’ As a rule, he tried not to think about how she looked in the butt-skimming skirt, those endless legs in black fishnet, the narrow feet in skinny heels. But tonight he was in a mood, and so he let himself think.

Just at that moment, he could have explained to Seth just what the big deal was about breasts. Grace’s were small and high, and a soft portion of the curve showed over the low-cut bodice of her blouse.

Suddenly, he desperately wanted a beer.

‘‘You get a chance to sit down at all?’’

She didn’t answer for a moment. Her mind had gone glass-blank at the way those quiet, thoughtful eyes had skimmed over her. ‘‘I, ah . . . yes, it’s nearly time for my break.’’ Her hands felt clumsy as she gathered up her order. ‘‘I like to go outside, get away from the noise.’’ Struggling to act normally, she rolled her eyes toward the band and was rewarded with Ethan’s slow grin.

‘‘Do they ever get worse than this?’’

‘‘Oh, yeah, these guys are a real step up.’’ She was nearly relaxed again as she lifted the tray and headed off to serve.

He watched her, while he sipped the beer Steve had pulled for him. Watched the way her legs moved, the way the foolish and incredibly sexy bow swayed with her hips. And the way she bent her knees, balancing the tray, lifting drinks from it onto a table.

He watched, eyes narrowing, as Curtis once again gave her a friendly pat.

His eyes narrowed further when a stranger in a faded Jim Morrison T-shirt grabbed her hand, tugging her closer. He saw Grace flash a smile, give a shake of her head. Ethan was already pushing away from the bar, not entirely sure what he intended to do, when the man released her.

When Grace came back to set down her tray, it was Ethan who grabbed her hand. ‘‘Take your break.’’

‘‘What? I—’’ To her shock he was pulling her steadily through the room. ‘‘Ethan, I really need to—’’

‘‘Take your break,’’ he said again and shoved the door open.

The air outside was clean and fresh, the night warm and breezy. The minute the door closed behind them, the noise shut down to a muffled echoing roar and the stink of smoke, sweat, and beer became a memory.

‘‘I don’t think you should be working here.’’

She gaped at him. The statement itself was odd enough, but to hear him deliver it in a tone that was obviously annoyed was baffling. ‘‘Excuse me?’’

‘‘You heard me, Grace.’’ He shoved his hands in his pockets because he didn’t know what to do with them. Left free, they might have grabbed her again. ‘‘It’s not right.’’

‘‘It’s not right?’’ she repeated, at sea.