Ten Good Reasons

by Lauren Christopher

  Evan glanced at the curtain with increasing unease.

  “Avery?” he called. “Where are your shoes?”

  “Captain Betancourt, this is the most incredible place.” She rolled onto her stomach, tucking her fist under her chin. “Don’t you think?”

  “How much have you had to drink, Avery?” He looked under the ottoman for her shoes, hoping they hadn’t slid underneath the energetic young Holden and Sara.

  “Just a little. But this drink . . . the food . . . the banana hookah . . .” Her hand waved across the room. “It’s incredible. I haven’t felt this delicious in years.”

  Another cigarette girl came through the curtain into the den, this one with the same hat and feather the last cigarette girl wore, but a different color. Her long blond hair was twisted into some kind of promise down one side of her breasts, which were being pushed upward in an almost cartoonish way from the tight dress she wore. The candlelight played across her skin, but Evan’s attention was diverted to a deck of cards she pulled out of her box and shoved beneath his nose.

  “Mr. Stevens wants to know if you’re ready to cut the deck yet.”

  Evan frowned for a second, staring at the deck, then clenched his jaw.

  That fucker . . .

  * * *

  Evan managed to pry Avery from the couch, supporting her as she crumbled against his shoulder, and finally found her shoes behind the fainting couch.

  She leaned against him like a sandbag as he helped her across the blinking floor, which was shoulder-to-shoulder people now. Couples bumped into him from every direction, and the boom-qua, boom-qua, boom-qua tune pounded through his head as Avery kept slipping down his hip. “Avery, keep moving. Like you’re dancing,” he shouted.

  Damn. Getting her through this crowd, out to a car, and into her own front door was going to be a miracle tonight.

  He finally got out to the concrete hallway and was relieved to see one of the bodyguards he remembered. This was the shaved-head one.

  “Hey, uh—Tom, right? Remember me? Whale-watching boat?”

  “Oh, hey, man.”

  “Your boss called a car for me and Avery here, and Lia, who was on the boat with us.”

  “Oh, yeah. It’s here.” He guided Evan toward the front door, past the line that still wove through the velvet ropes and into the rain.

  Evan pressed back. “No. I need to wait for Lia.”

  “You and your lady here can take the car, and we’ll call another one.”

  Evan blew out a breath. There was no fucking way he was leaving Lia here with Kyle.

  The car pulled up, and Evan made an attempt to keep Avery from tripping over the complicated shoes he probably didn’t buckle right. One of the straps flapped in the rain, and she stepped into a puddle and squealed. Her shoe toppled off.

  It took what felt like an eternity, but he finally unloaded her into the backseat of the car and got her address deciphered.

  “Your boss will be grateful,” he told the driver. “He’s been with her all night, but he wanted me to take her out here to you.” Evan hoped that was enough culpability to put on Kyle to ensure this driver got her home. He slammed the door, tapped once on the roof, and turned back toward the club.

  Now to get Lia.

  * * *

  The music throbbed low in her belly as Lia leaned against the metal rail that surrounded the now-crowded ice bar, staring at the nearest melting torso. Kyle was swapping her drink out for “something else.”

  She took a deep breath. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. Maybe Evan was partially right: Kyle probably wasn’t above trying to get her into bed. On the one hand, she was flattered: He could have anyone in the county, surely. But on the other hand, she was insulted: She wanted him to admire her for her work and her brilliant marketing plans. She wasn’t another body to be commemorated with one night of dripping ice water.

  “Here we go,” he said, sidling up to her with a huge glass filled with a dark burgundy drink.

  “Is this what I had at dinner?”

  “You said you liked it.” A worry line dipped his eyebrow.

  “I did. Is this it?”

  “Yes. I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I didn’t admit it’s a little strong—it’s a tawny port. We found it on a vineyard in Portugal.”

  She took a sip. The richness filled her throat again. “It’s fabulous.”

  His grin took up his whole face. “It pleases me that you like it.”

  It didn’t go to her head quite as quickly as before, thank goodness. A full stomach helped. But it still swirled more than most. She’d have to watch herself. Small sips. Checking Evan out while buzzed—who would never in a million years make a move on her—was one thing, but losing herself around Kyle would be something different.

  “So you travel to Portugal?” she asked.

  “I travel all over. Have you ever been?”

  “No, but I’d like to. I’d like to go to France. And Spain. And Italy.”

  “Where have you been?”

  “Nowhere.”

  “Nowhere? Lia, say it ain’t so.”

  “Sad, huh? Elle has me working like a coal miner. I told myself I’d do a different country every year on my birthday, starting right after college. I wanted to just show up to an airport every year and choose off the board. But that plan never materialized, since I started working for Elle as soon as I graduated.”

  “When’s your birthday?”

  “December.”

  “I’m calling Elle tomorrow and insisting she give you time off. And I’m taking you to Portugal in December.”

  Lia smiled. If only life were that easy.

  “So what’s this I hear about a boyfriend?” He stepped closer, his arm around her back, half trapping her.

  Lia took another sip of wine. “Where did you hear I had a boyfriend?”

  “Your boat captain mentioned it. Warning me off you, I think.”

  A warmth slid through her body. Easy, girl. She didn’t know what to react to first—that Kyle was clearly flirting, that he and Evan had been discussing her behind her back, or that Evan had been thinking of her somehow in the context of dating.

  That last thought—or maybe the richness of the port—sent the warmth from her stomach to her thighs, and settled right between her legs.

  Damn it. She didn’t want to have these reactions to Evan.

  She put the wineglass down.

  “So where is this boyfriend now?” Kyle’s breath blew the tendrils at her hairline.

  She inched away. “Bora Bora.”

  “Bora Bora? He’s got a beautiful girlfriend who wants to see the world, and he’s alone in Bora Bora? I don’t think that’s very smart.”

  Lia refused to be egged on. She stood straighter, but the wine caused her to lose her balance and she gripped the rail, her hand slipping and touching the ice. Kyle watched all the movements but didn’t lean in to help.

  “He can do what he wants.” Her mouth was having trouble forming Ws now. “We have a very mature relationship.”

  “Mature?” Kyle’s mouth twisted. “Maybe you need something that’s more fun than mature.”

  “No, mature is great.”

  “Mature sounds boring.”

  She laughed against her better judgment. Maybe it was, a little. She’d certainly never accuse Forrest of being too exciting. And they’d never had wild sex. In fact, they’d never had sex at all. She’d never even had great sex before, with anyone—always chalking it up to her inexperience or her trepidation with the partners she’d finally picked. She assumed it was something on the horizon for her, like the promotion to Paris. Maybe when she was finally relaxed, settled, had climbed all her ladders. Forrest, honestly, didn’t seem like the most likely candidate, but she was hoping.

  “I want to make you happy, Lia. I’m s
tarting to see you as a challenge. You’ve done a lot for me, with this club, and the charter you planned—I want to pay you back. What will it take? Portugal in December?”

  She shook her head. She didn’t need anything from Kyle. She needed it from the Vampiress. Paris. The raise. The final feeling of “success.”

  He smiled sadly. “Okay, I see you’re too ‘mature’ for me. How about investing in your friend’s boat?”

  Lia’s head snapped up. The quick movement caused the room to spin, but she was pretty sure she’d heard what she thought she heard.

  “You’d invest? In Drew’s boat?”

  “Sure. I was going to buy my own, but if you guys need an investor, why not just do that? Then I don’t have to concern myself with the upkeep.”

  “That would be . . . great.” Lia couldn’t believe her luck. “Can we discuss it on Monday? Get all the details straight? I’m not in the right mind for business right now, to be honest.”

  He removed the glass from her hand and set it on the ice. “What are you in the right mind for?”

  “Kyle, this isn’t—this isn’t what I mean. You and I have a wonderful relationship right now. I admire you and love working with you, but I want to maintain our professionalism.”

  “Of course. I respect you immensely. And I respect your mature relationship.” He threw her a smile that suggested otherwise. “But how about a kiss? Your mature relationship certainly has room for a kiss between friends, right? We can just say we both had too much to drink.”

  A sickening taste rolled into the back of her throat. Did she just sell a share of Drew’s boat for a kiss? Part of her wanted to laugh at herself for thinking it was a big deal, but the other part was sending warning bells through her head.

  Kyle turned to the bartender. “Hey, get me one of those, too.” He cocked his head toward her drink. “And give mine an extra boost, Cole.”

  “What’s the extra boost?” she asked. The sickening feeling in her stomach continued.

  “Ah, don’t make me feel bad, Lia. I’m not as mature as you. I like my recreational drugs. Helps me sleep at night, anyway. Let’s go back to the den.”

  “Kyle, I don’t want to do that.”

  “We’ll get something more private.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and started punching in numbers.

  “Kyle, no. It seems inappropriate to sell—”

  “Lee-yaaaa.” Kyle scowled at her. “It’s just a kiss. Don’t be silly.” He turned to his phone. “Salvador? What dens are open?”

  She felt a blush heat her cheeks. Maybe she was silly. He didn’t want to marry her for goodness’ sake. And it wasn’t sex.

  “No, Kyle.”

  He raised an eyebrow. Paused. Without another word, and his eyes trained on her, he hung up on Salvador and slipped his phone back in his pocket.

  “All right, beautiful. You’re a challenge. I like that about you.” He reached for the two wineglasses and nodded his thanks to Cole. “Let’s go back, and see if Avery and Evan are ready. Who knows what the hell the two of them are doing by now? I imagine Avery’s pulling her dress back down, and Evan’s getting all zipped up. . . .”

  The words hit Lia like a punch in the gut. She remembered Kyle leaving them there so hastily, with Avery pretty much smashed. Had that all been planned for Evan? The image of Evan, stomach exposed, forearms flexing over a zipper, hair swinging—sent another sickening feeling through her stomach. First she thought it was disgust. Then she thought it was anger. But finally, as Kyle motioned with his head to follow him, she realized it wasn’t either of those things. It was jealousy.

  She followed Kyle through the throngs of beautiful people, inhibitions tossed aside with their flailing arms. But somewhere in the center of the dance floor, near the Pl in the “Plush” logo, she swayed, and a guy near her caught her elbow.

  Kyle glanced back. “Are you all right, Lia?”

  He handed her one of the drinks and used his free hand to help her by the elbow. “Easy. And don’t take another sip until we get back to the den.”

  His smile was easygoing, but the reprimand was there.

  And Lia, buoyed now by strong wine, misplaced jealousy, and her ability to dissuade him from a kiss she didn’t want, felt the rising power of rebelliousness: The drink was at her lips in no time.

  But six steps in, she realized her mistake. The ground shifted beneath her as the room began to spin, and the throbbing notes receded into a far dark corner of her brain.

  Two steps after that, Lia thought for sure the ground was coming up to meet her.

  CHAPTER

  Twelve

  Evan had never seen a more crowded dance floor. But by the time he’d convinced Tom to let him back in, and had taken one sweep through the room, he was sure Lia wasn’t on it.

  The ice bar was his next target. Black dresses, spilling breasts, high heels, black shiny suits . . . so many people. It had been a long time since he’d been in the middle of such a throng, and he was remembering why he’d stayed away. Distrust swelled every cell in his body.

  He crushed through with his shoulders. But no Lia. He called the bartender over. Sebastian, his nametag said.

  “Have you seen Kyle Stevens? I need to talk to him.”

  Sebastian shook his head. “I just started my shift, man. Haven’t seen him yet.”

  “Can you call him for me?”

  “No can do. He contacts the folks he wants to see, not the other way around. Sorry, man. You can wait here for a while. He’ll probably be here two or three times tonight.”

  Evan glanced at all the doorways. Would Kyle have left out the front while Evan had been in the back? Would he have taken Lia back to his place? Would she have called someone to get a ride home?

  Evan cursed himself again for not having a cell. He’d gotten rid of his when he’d decided to step out of society. He ran this curse through his head a couple times a year—usually because of some unforeseen storm that was causing black waves to rise before his boat—but this time seemed even more dire. Stupid. He ran his hand down his face and whirled to stare at the other three exits.

  Maybe the den? Would Kyle have brought her back there?

  His heart raced double-time to the music as he scanned the back dens. From here, he could see they’d been designed with backlighting so figures could be watched peep-show style.

  He zeroed in on Den Thirteen. The silhouette of a woman reclined on the ottoman, candles set on the ground, man on top of her. . . .

  His blood pounded through his veins as he charged across the room. Bodies separated for him as he raced. When he got there, he yanked the curtain practically off its rod.

  Sara and Holden both swiveled their heads in his direction. Holden reached out and snapped the curtain back into place.

  Evan stepped back and took a deep breath. What the hell was he doing?

  Even if Kyle was a slimeball, Cinderella didn’t seem to think so. And that was her prerogative, wasn’t it? To crawl up the body of any man she wanted to? Evan didn’t need to be some kind of avenging angel trying to right the wrongs of the world. He didn’t even know this woman. And he shouldn’t feel anything for her. And if she wanted to have hot sex in a curtained den in a nightclub with . . . Evan loosened his collar. Damn. He was burning up. It must be a thousand degrees in here.

  He considered making a hasty retreat, maybe heading back to the motel for a cold shower and some common sense. But a shadow in Den Ten caught his eye.

  A woman in silhouette, prone on the fainting couch. Her arms and legs hung over the edges, unmoving. Her head lulled to the side, long hair of Cinderella’s length dripping toward the floor.

  And a man standing over her.

  Who was clearly Kyle.

  * * *

  The fear that filled Evan’s veins propelled him across the room in silent flight. A ringing in
his ears replaced the music as he threw himself past the curtain and slammed to a halt inside the den.

  It was her. Her unconscious body, her heavy limbs, her closed eyes, her parted lips—all hanging lifelessly off the edge of the couch.

  The panic that gripped him sent him flying to her side. He snatched up her wrist. Her pulse was weak, but it was there. His first thought was Rohypnol.

  Although Kyle was trying to say something, Evan could only hear a rush of blood as he lunged for the smaller man. Fistfuls of material were in his hands as he slammed Kyle against the wall and cocked his fist.

  “. . . wrong drink!” Kyle was squeaking, throwing his hands in front of his face.

  Evan didn’t care. His fist made glorious contact with Kyle’s face, sending his head snapping to the side. They both fell against a flimsier curtain in the back of the room, sending a potted plant toppling across the floor.

  “She drank the wrong drink, man! Stop!” Kyle yelled.

  Kyle’s shoulders hit the floor next, his body bouncing, and Evan got another punch in before he was lifted bodily by two muscled men who appeared out of nowhere.

  “What the hell?” Kyle spit upward. Blood covered his nose and mouth. “She drank the wrong drink, I told you!” Kyle spit into his palm.

  “What’d you give her?” Evan found a guttural voice that didn’t sound like his.

  “I didn’t give her anything!”

  “What’s in her system, then?”

  Kyle motioned for the guys to let Evan go. A door creaked shut behind the back wall of the den—probably where they’d come from.

  “It’s a muscle relaxer,” Kyle said. “It was in my drink. She drank the wrong one.” He touched his fingers to his nose and peered at the amount of blood. “She’ll be fine. I know how much is in there. My bartender makes me one every night.”

  Evan glanced at Cinderella looking dead on the couch. That looked stronger than a muscle relaxer. But he couldn’t prove anything right now, and Kyle was probably used to this story, which he probably used all the time and had made airtight.