by Zante, Lily
For she could be fickle, when it came to men, and she had enough self-awareness to know this about herself.
“Like your bio on the website, and the fact that you don’t work here, you own the place.”
“So I own the place. So what?” His I-don’t-give-a-shit shrug left her feeling silly, because he was right. What difference did it make whether he was a bartender or the owner?
He most likely thought she was a gold-digger, and that was so not the case. “I was trying to see what type of club it was, since your membership isn’t cheap.” It was a desperate attempt to shift the conversation.
“This is an exclusive club . That exclusivity comes at a cost.”
“I needed to know that this wasn’t a shady BDSM place in disguise.”
His brow creased, and he seemed to regard her with a look of amusement. She wanted to disappear beneath the floorboards.
“This is an above-board establishment. If you want that kink, you’ll have to go elsewhere.”
“I only want to have a good time.”
“You want to live up to your nickname, what was it again?”
Heat rose to her cheeks, as their gazes locked. He was humiliating her, and he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying it. “I wish I hadn’t told you.”
“Don’t be like that,” he replied, with a smile. “You’re a party girl, is what you said. Nothing wrong with that.”
“What?” she asked, feeling slightly shy because of the way he was looking at her.
“Nothing.” He gave a slight shake of his head. “You came here straight from work wearing that?” He jabbed his chin indicating her outfit.
She looked down and shook her head. “I changed in the washroom at work.” No way could she have gone to work in this; a beaded halter neck top and pleated skirt made from shimmery fabric. It was stylish, and sexy, and she knew she looked damn good in it.
“Nice dress,” he murmured. “It suits you.”
She smiled. It was the first nice thing he’d said to her off the island. “Thank you.” Usually, other guys would have made a move on her by now. With Luke? Nothing.
“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she said, and wished he would do or say something so that they could stop beating around things. She hated the chasing game, hated the will-he-won’t he? Does-he-or-doesn’t-he-like-me drama of romance.
“I’ll take that compliment.”
“You should,” she said. “That’s what it was.”
He seemed to hesitate before answering. What was wrong with him? Everything he did, or said, was measured, and he never seemed to respond in the way she hoped. “It hasn’t been an easy day,” he said, finally, surprising her with his words.
“No?” she asked, her hopes rising that he had shared some slight part of himself with her. “Let me buy you a drink,” she offered, “And you can tell me all about it.”
She held her breath and waited for his answer, waited to see what this man, this Luke Hunter, the son of an oil billionaire, New York's number four, owner of bars and clubs, and the guy who ticked all the boxes, would say to that.
Chapter 9
Should he let her buy him a drink he didn’t need?
Luke resisted the urge to scrub his forehead, the way he often did when he was thinking a problem through. And as tempting as she looked in that bare-backed top of hers, he knew the sensible thing to do was to decline politely.
“That’s not necessary,” he said, trying to find a way to let her down gently. “I’m a grown-up, I can handle bad days.”
“Sometimes it’s nicer to talk things over. You helped me when I was on the island.”
“I made you a cocktail.”
“It helped.”
The woman was persistent, if nothing else. The way she looked at him with those big, round eyes filled with longing, pure and simple, it reminded him of his mother. He would see her looking with that same yearning at his father. He had been fifteen years old when his father moved a pretty college intern into the family home. A month later, the dirty bastard moved her into the bedroom he shared with Luke’s mother, and moved his mother to another room.
It was obvious what was going on. His poor mother had been powerless, and she could do no nothing but stand by and helplessly watch. And accept. He had only been a teenager then, but that wistful look on his mother’s face was one he never forgot.
Kay had the same look about her.
“Thanks, but no,” he said, shaking himself out of that dark memory. As hard as it was, he had to decline.
“I’d better get back to my friends, before they start wondering where I’ve disappeared to.”
“Enjoy the club,” he told her. “You’re right. You should be on commission.” He couldn’t help but give her the once-over again. She definitely looked so much more attractive in her sexy after-work outfit. So much more appealing than the short, skimpy dresses she’d worn on the island. He preferred subtle sexiness as opposed to in-your-face blatant nakedness.
“I’m happy to spread the word. We’re having a great time.”
“We?” He wasn’t sure why he’d asked that.
“My friends, from work. Have you listened to anything I’ve said?”
“I’ve listened to everything you’ve said. You made it sound as if you’d come here with your boyfriend.”
Her tongue flicked over her lower lip, as she seemed to weigh up her answer. “I don’t have a boyfriend, remember?”
“That was then,” he replied, slowly, giving her the once-over. “I can’t imagine a woman like you staying single for too long.” Later on, he would wonder why he had played the devil’s advocate, why he had made that remark, knowing full well that it would only lead the way to temptation.
“Savannah has me on a man-free diet.”
“A man-free diet?” He chuckled, because it sounded ridiculous. “What the hell is that?”
“Men are bad for me, apparently.”
“Says who? Savannah?”
“Says me. She’s always there to pick up the pieces.”
He nodded, wading in deeper even though his brain was telling him to go home. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers, and turned to the side, leaning against the wall, his gaze sweeping over her face again, drinking in her features, and wondering, once more what that full mouth would feel like on his.
She smiled, maybe because he couldn’t help but stare at her, and her smile reached into every cell in his body. He returned the smile, and for a moment they basked in the possibility of what could be. Of where this night could end up, for right now they were at the crossroads of intention. Either he could leave now, as he had planned to earlier, or he could hang around a while, and see what unfolded.
“Do you always do what Savannah says?” The conversation was falling into dangerous territory.
“No.”
He suddenly remembered her nickname, Good-Time-Kay. It told him everything he needed to know. Savannah obviously must have had good reason to put this gorgeous, voluptuous creature before him on a man-free diet.
“She thinks I might get back with Dean.”
“Aaah, Dean. Why does that name keep coming up? Is it because he’s irresistible?” Or was it because she had no self-control? It was a good thing she couldn’t read his mind, because she blushed. It was the first time he’d ever seen her blush.
“He can be.” She bit her lip, and looked down, embarrassment clear to see in her eyes. “And what about you? Still single?”
“Still.”
“That makes two of us.”
“It does,” he agreed.
She looked up at him, all calm and unfazed, but the not-so-slow rise and fall of her chest told him otherwise. He could see himself taking her home, and …
He had to calm his shit, but the blood rushing south wasn’t going to calm anything down.
“I’ll see you around,” she said, twiddling a lock of her hair in her finger, before turning on her heel and walking away.
Leaving him to admire that half-naked back of hers.
~ ~
The heavy throbbing between her legs was a physical sign of the effect that Luke Hunter had on her. She was hot and sweaty, not because of the club, but because of him.
What had possessed her to tell him about the man-free diet, and then mention Dean? She was over him. Had no further interest in the guy, and yet she couldn’t seem to keep him out of the conversation. Maybe at some sub-conscious level, she was looking to elicit some sort of response from Luke, even if it might be jealousy.
She returned to their table to find Geoffrey scowling. The club closed at 3am, and the way her friends were dancing, it didn’t seem as if they were ready to leave anytime soon. Without saying a word to Geoffrey, she returned to the dance floor, and danced the rest of the night away.
One by one, her friends started to leave until it was just her and Erin. She was suddenly surprised when the DJ announced the last song, and after that, the music stopped.
Erin had found a group of people she knew, and went over to talk to them. Kay returned to their table and found, much to her dismay, that Geoffrey was obviously drunk now. He’d sat here the whole night, not even getting up once to dance. Looking ridiculously red in the face, as well as sweaty, he glared at her. She managed a half-smile, but didn’t dare ask him what his problem was, sensing that his dour mood and drunken state might make him turn aggressive.
She got her things together, and waited for Erin. People started to make their way to the cloakroom to collect their belongings. Geoffrey got to his feet just as Erin came over.
“I’m going to catch a cab with my friends,” said Erin, kissing her on the cheek to say goodbye. “We live near each other, it makes sense.”
Shit.
“Can I squeeze in?” asked Kay, already feeling uncomfortable at the idea of being left alone with Geoffrey.
“It’s a full cab,” said Erin, making an apologetic face. “Just jump in with Geoffrey.”
Easy for you to say, thought Kay. “See you on Monday.”
“Catch a cab home together?” Geoffrey asked, placing his hand over her bare skin. She shivered, and moved away, turning around to face him.
“A cab?” she replied, her stomach lurching at the idea of spending a journey with him. “You go ahead,” she told him. “I can make my own way back.”
“Why?” he snarled, his tone sharp. “It’s only the two of us, and Sunnyside is on my way home.”
“No,” she insisted, having no idea of where he lived, and startled that he knew where she lived.
He grabbed her bag, in an attempt to get her attention. “Why not?” he asked. “You spend all evening giving me the come on and you sit here, letting me buy you overpriced cocktails—”
His words winded her, and she blinked. She never, ever flirted with any of the guys from the office.
“We all paid for them in turn,” she said, shocked by his pettiness. “Stop being such a petty little man.”
“I fucking looked after your Pembroke account while you were away. It’s the fucking least you could do for me.”
His words smacked in her stomach. There were too many assumptions in his accusation, and she didn’t want to ask him what exactly he expected from her, given that he was talking loudly, and people were starting to look their way.
“You were doing your job,” she hissed. “You’re drunk Geoffrey, go home.”
“Everything okay here?” Luke asked, stepping forward and surprising her.
“Who’s asking?” sneered Geoffrey.
“I am,” replied Luke. “I suggest you listen to her and leave, or I could have my security men escort you out of the door.”
“Go on big guy, do your fucking best.”
“Geoffrey!” Kay was horrified by what he’d said. “Okay, let’s get a cab. I’ll get the cab with you now. Happy?” She didn’t want a scene, and he was ugly drunk. Why had Erin left her to deal with this alone?
“You’re not getting in a cab with him,” Luke shot back at her. “He’s drunk.”
“You don’t get to tell her what to do,” sneered Geoffrey, poking his skinny little finger into Luke’s chest.
“Don’t touch me, pal,” Luke warned, his face clouding over. “I’m calling you a cab, and I suggest you get in it.”
“I can call my own cab, pal.” Geoffrey shot back, just as two security men came over. He shrugged his arms, as a warning for them not to lay a finger on him.
“Just go home, Geoffrey. Please,” Kay begged. Geoffrey could be a dick, and he was clearly going to be a bigger one now that he had his moment to shine. She turned to Luke, “It’s not a problem, I’ll get a cab back with him.”
“I’ll take care of this,” said Luke, facing her as he stepped between her and Geoffrey. His tall frame completely obliterating Geoffrey’s from view.
“I don’t want any trouble,” she said, looking up at him, and clearly aware of the potent buzz of electricity that had sparked in the two inches that were between his chest and hers.
He lowered his head. “The guy is drunk, and clearly an asshole. I don’t think you should get a cab home with him to keep the peace.”
He straightened up, and through gritted teeth said loudly, “Quit jabbing me in the back, dude, otherwise I’ll have you thrown out.” He turned around. “Get this gentleman a cab, will you?” Luke asked one of the security men.
Geoffrey stepped to the side, flashing her a look of pure contempt, before being dragged upstairs by the security men.
Chapter 10
“Thank you,” Kay said, for the third time since they had left the club.
Luke glanced at her from the driver’s seat.
“You’re on my way home. It’s no big deal.”
“I could have shared a cab with him.”
“Seriously?” No way would he have allowed that. “The guy was drunk, and getting louder by the minute.”
“He’s harmless.”
People behaved like morons, often, when they were drunk. “We see a lot of guys like him, at the end of the night.”
“You have a built-in radar, do you?”
“It’s a skill of the job.” It became easy to read people, in the line of work that he was in.
“I imagine you see all sorts, more than you let on, Mr. Bartender.”
“Are you still sore about that?”
“No. I find it amusing.”
He said nothing in response to that, then, “Who is he?”
“A guy from work.”
He’d heard parts of the conversation between the two of them, and Luke was sure the guy wanted more than to share a cab home. His people would usually step in at that point, and try to defuse the situation, call separate cabs, if necessary. He didn’t want any trouble in his establishments, even if his customers were in the process of leaving. Bad publicity could kill a business.
But he wasn’t yet sure why he had stepped in, and why he had then offered to drive her home. Yes, Sunnyside, the area where she lived, was on his way, but he was so entrenched in his business rule of not getting involved with the clientele, that this situation now seemed at odds with his rules.
“He has a soft spot for you.”
“Ew no!” She cried, bunching her face up in disgust. “Don’t say that. It makes me want to throw up.”
“You don’t see it?”
“I prefer not to even think about it.” She turned her face away and looked out of the car window. “He took care of a client deal for me while I was away and he thinks I owe him,” she said after a while.
“A client deal? What type of client deals do they have you secretaries get involved with?”
“Uh…oh, just some hospitality stuff,” she replied, turning to face him. Her eyes widened, exactly as if she’d been caught in a lie. “Dinner followed by theater stuff.”
Dinner followed by theater stuff? She’d thrown a smart leather jacket over her dress, and looked sexy, and smart at the same time. But as nice and as
appealing as she looked, he was not going to go there, he reminded himself. The only reason he was giving her a lift home was because he wanted to make sure she got home safely.
He parked up outside her apartment block.
“Thanks for taking me home,” she said.
“Don’t mention it.”
“Would you like to come in?”
“It’s way past three.” It was beyond late. There was only one reason she was asking that question, and it wasn’t because she wanted him to taste her coffee beans.
“It’s Saturday tomorrow.”
“Some of us have to work,” he told her.
“You own the place! Surely you don’t have to slave away behind the bar. Surely you don’t even have to step foot in the place, unless you want to.”
“I’m a workaholic. I practically live at the bar.”
“Even workaholics needs to relax.”
He could detect the suggestion in those words, and he weighed up the alternative. Her jacket gaped open, the beads on her dress glittering as they caught the light of the lamppost. He was open to having girlfriends, just that he preferred not to get involved with people from the bar, or friends, because he was never one to get deep, or open up. He didn’t want or need that kind of vulnerability. Usually, he met women while he was doing the most normal of things; like going out to get groceries, or getting a haircut, or a sports massage. The relationship with the sports masseuse had been his most recent one, and it had soured, when she wanted to know more about him, when she wanted more than just sex. He cut her off, told her it wasn’t working for him, and changed his sports masseuse.
Those were the types of women he allowed himself to get close to.
Kay was going to be complicated.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come in?” she repeated.
He could drive away now, and let her down, and hope that she would eventually get the message, or, he could give her what she wanted, and to hell with his rules. “Come in for what, Kay?”
~ ~
“I’m not asking for a date,” she said, turning her body towards him and leaning back against the car door. He had turned the engine off, and it didn’t seem to her as if that was the sign of a guy wanting to get home and go to bed. “I’m asking if you would like to come in. You’ve taken me home, and rescued me.”