by Susan Arden
“Two bottles dropped,” he supplied, casting a glance at Mari’s incredible face. In the dimly lit corner, her eyes shimmered, and her pale skin had him staring. He inhaled her scent and resisted the urge to stalk over to her and nuzzle her cheek as an alpha would this close to a female.
Sonya slanted an inquisitive glance at him, then started off. “Gotta run. Meet me at the bar in two minutes.”
“Will do.” Mari returned to him with a frown.
“Can’t be that distasteful to return to my side,” he said.
She softened her expression. “More like confused.”
A beautiful, intelligent woman who chose to work in an exclusive sex club had to have gumption. The clientele were the type who needed a place where anonymity was priceless. He got that. But he didn’t like the upstairs being close at hand for Mari. One flight, one floor, one night, and he didn’t want to pursue that line of thinking when it came to Mari and another shifter. If anyone was going to take her upstairs, it sure as shit was going to be him.
And damn, he wanted that night to start in about an hour, where he could have her under him, open to him, and moaning his name from the things he would do. He might not know karate, but he knew crazy. This feeling of thirst rose in him. Only one way to quench it. Powerful pumping of his hips between her thighs.
Not going to happen unless he employed some serious damage control. Not his best skill.
He inhaled, and rubbed the edge of his jaw. “Didn’t mean anything by what I said. As usual, I’ve got my boot stuck in my mouth.”
“Hard to pretend that snippet is a shocker. From your vantage point, I get what it looks like from your station in the world. I probably would think castles, cricket, and scandals were dismal and boring. From the outside, I mean. Look, you can see we’re at a crucial point. Time to start the clock. Tick-tock, Conrad. I hope you find that someone who meets your expectations.”
His head snapped upward. “The beauty has claws.”
“I’m not a fool who can be swayed by a rich playboy with Wolf News riding his posterior end in some familial feud.”
“And you read the newspaper.”
“You could say that, Mr. Fisher.” She stared coolly at him, yet all the while his wolf senses picked up on her pulse and breathing.
She was attempting to hide while exercising restraint in civil dialogue, but all the while the two dots of color on her cheeks turned brighter. The infamous monotone he’d experienced from his stodgy family when they were fuming came off downright delectable on Mari. He’d done it, all right. Angered a she-wolf. And the wolf inside him wanted to do it all over again.
“I’d like to say a whole lot more. If you’d give me the chance. In private.”
“I think not. Take care, Conrad. Enjoy your evening.”
He reached out to her take her arm. “Stop. Don’t rush off.”
“With your reputation, you’re better suited to your friends’ company.”
Was she so naïve as to think he’d be this easily dismissed? He wasn’t about to let this little lady go that easily. The slight curve to her lips didn’t come near her glittering eyes, prompting the wolf in him to hunker down. A vein pulsed in her throat, drawing his wolf predation nature closer to the surface with the lure of prey worthy of a chase.
The muscles all over his body contracted as the wolf within him battled with the man to claim the delicious female before him. Both desired Mari. He couldn’t deny the spark of excitement at the prospect of pursuing the she-wolf and woman before him. Arousal surged in his bloodstream by her erotic scent, lambasting his senses. The force cleared away the fog of these last weeks, leaving him fresh. Ready for a blistering hunt.
“Darling, perhaps you’re the one who should take care. You already said you were part of this party and the reason I’ve stayed. No way to back out now. Bait and switch. Isn’t that the term used?”
Her enticing eyes narrowed at him, color riding higher on her cheekbones. “Really, my lord. This isn’t a used car lot. I won’t be responsible for your ability to secure a date. I’m not a miracle worker. No promises were made. I doubt you and I have anything of interest.”
“There’s plenty of interest. Volumes. Of that I’m certain,” he flung back, amused at her refusal to step up to the plate.
“You and I won’t be happening. The agreement to a date tonight must be mutual. Or did you forget, Earl?” She placed her hands on her hips, and her traffic-stopping cleavage heaved. He burned to take hold of her and crush his mouth to her full lips. He went from stiff to well past rigid in his pants.
“Still fascinated with titles, Ms. Dunhill?” He let his gaze drop to her name tag, then returned to her face where he shot her a piercing look. “I think there’s a saying. Don’t count your chickens,” he retorted, then spun on his heel and strode off, leaving his little angry vixen to stew.
Each time his gaze met hers, her heart flip-flopped in response. She’d never had a man who basically threw down a gauntlet to her indifference. But in truth, she was more than interested. The wolf in her growled to be let loose. Panting, licking, and pacing a line back and forth. Her wolf sense rallied to the alpha in Conrad no matter how she tried to evade him. Ridiculous.
She’d never be the type of female to interest someone like him. The Earl of Essex. Probably his ego enjoyed a challenge. Not much of a jungle in Denver; the man was more than likely bored. The moment she showed her true lap dog colors, he’d smirk in victory, and that would be the last she’d see of him.
Winding through the crowd that parted before him, Conrad’s scent, physique, and words struck a vibrant chord in her. Damn, this was hardly what she needed to focus on. A sexy man and his commanding wolf sense blazed a path in her body. She shivered at the thought of him, naked and—metal tapping against a glass broke her train of thought. Sonya held a glass and spoon in the air. Mari jerked forward, pushing aside her overzealous lust. This was her job, not a place to find a date. She picked up the long skirt of her gown to hustle through the crowd until she reached the bar.
“Okay. I’m here,” she said to Sonya.
“Take the mic. Nothing different than what we discussed,” Sonya whispered, securing a clip-on microphone to the side of her neckline and placing a laminated sheet of directions in her hands. Any fool could do this. She’d bet most of the clients could recite the rules verbatim. Mari smiled at the crowd staring back at her. She breezed through the directions and special prizes.
She came to the end and looked up. “Some lucky couple will win a night at the Den. So are we ready to party? Okay, the clock starts now to find a seat. Tristen, let’s go.” Mari nodded to the enforcer and he gave her an encouraging smile.
People clapped and began to move. The music ramped up as everyone took a seat, women on one side of the row of tables and men on the other. A couple of the seats in front of a few of the men were empty. She gazed over to Tristen, who had the clock running. One minute before the first date of the evening commenced. He motioned to the Den staff lining the walls to go for it. To equal out the numbers, the single women single staff were prompted to participate if they desired. She’d already promised, and Conrad’s reminder got her goat.
“Don’t make me take you by the hand.” Sonya pushed her forward. “Meet you back her at the break.”
“I should stay and help,” she stammered.
“Mari, you did your part with the guests. Have fun. Go get your feet wet, since you’ll be running the next one. Better to experience it from the inside in how this game unfolds.”
She inhaled, and nodded. Without looking up, she plunked down onto the first empty seat. “My, my,” the man across from her murmured.
She focused her attention as the man lowered his mask. “Mr. Clermont.”
“First rule of speed dating. No last names. We’re all on equal footing.” He scribbled his name across the top line on her date form.
“Of course.” She murmured. The bell buzzed.
He steepled his fin
gers. “So, you’re new to the Den. First-timer. What’s brings you ’round?”
“Employment. Just hired.” Here I go again. On the defense, Mari sat erect in her chair.
“I won’t pretend. Conrad filled me in about his desire to be your knight in shining armor this evening. Fisticuffs and all with Tristen.”
The admission caught her off guard. “He mentioned me.”
“I saw you talking with Conrad and inquired,” he said. “I’m a family friend. Nosy. My inherent job. You do understand.”
“I thought this was supposed to be about us.”
“Us. In a way. In this tête-à-tête, let’s widen the circle. Conrad is more than some ego-rich gentry. Did you know the press is a savage bunch?”
Rich—check. Ego—double check. “Yes. I’m aware. Regarding Conrad, that’s your experience. Not too hard to understand a man like Conrad. You’re close — I fully understand friendship. Loyalty. What about you? Where are you from?”
“I grew up in boarding schools with Conrad. London, Switzerland. Here. And attended Oxford with him. He’s like a brother to me. Let’s circle back though to what really matters. Tit for tat, and we’ve more minutes. He prefers to stay far removed from his family, for good reason. Do you read the papers?”
“Not consistently anymore. Before you think you need to fill me in. I’m more than aware and weary of Wolf News.”
“Spirited. That’s good. His family is typical. They want an heir. Conrad wants his freedom. An impasse is brewing. I prefer not to go full-on gossip during chance meetings, but his family broke the story that threw him under the bus. If you’re interested in Conrad, then read between the lines. Nothing with him is what it seems. Now, what about you? Quid pro quo. Love, that dress is divine.”
She looked down, having forgotten about her costume. She brought her hands up to her waist and lightly fingered the embroidered bodice. “From the closet of your country. Elizabeth Woodville.”
His blond eyebrows drew upward. “As in, one of the queen’s actual gowns?” There was a trace of incredulous laughter in his tone.
Heat flared across her cheeks. She blurted out, “Yes. See at the back of the neckline? Her crown and name are embroidered. An absolute treasure.” The bell rang before she could share it was a rental.
Louis extended his palm. “The dress pales in comparison to you. A quote I heard earlier from a friend.” He stared back at her.
“Thank you. I enjoyed talking.” He lifted her hand, and lightly kissed her knuckles.
Her mind somersaulted at what Louis had shared. He smiled, rose, and moved to another seat according to the rules. A shadow crossed over the table. Familiar in shape, and her heart beat furiously. Frozen, she didn’t dare train her gaze upward.
“Louis and I have crossed many bridges.” Her whole body clenched at the sight of Conrad lowering himself onto the chair across from her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I want you. Tonight. What will it take to have you naked? Upstairs.” He wrote his name on every line down her dating form, then pushed it and the pen across the table.
She went to rise, unsure why his suggestion rocked her reporter world on its ear. She couldn’t disappear upstairs with a man. One she’d just met. Speed dating took on a whole new dimension. “You’re mistaken. If you think I…we—”
“Oh, sweetheart, I not only think, I damn well know we can. I’ve booked a room. Isn’t that what this exclusive club is all about? Anonymity. Or is that all a ruse to get clients?” His stare drilled in her, and his deep voice held a challenge.
“No. Never.” She swallowed at the conundrum he so aptly presented. “Skip the insinuation that the Downtown Den is deceitful. The agreement couples—people sign is airtight. Nothing escapes. Staff are prevented from discussing what happens. Do you know that quite a few people are helped by the services offered? For shifters in need.” Her eyes stung. She couldn’t understand why the idea of two lonely people connecting choked the sense out of her.
“I spoke with Tristen.” He took hold of her hands. The contact with his skin released an electrical spark. His fingers tugging on her knuckles sent a jolt of rippling pleasure up her arms, colliding with an aching need in her chest.
“You did what?” she asked, as though uncertain of what he’d meant.
“It’s cool, sweetheart. I asked about how to access the room I had waiting. There’s a back staircase. Down the hallway. We don’t have to leave together. I’m not into compromising your position here. I want you. I know you’re interested. What’s the point in waiting?”
“You’re too full of yourself for words.” The bell rang. She settled back in her chair, expecting him to say goodbye and do what? She couldn’t think that far ahead. A man approached the table.
Conrad looked up. “Sorry, mate, this one is taken.”
“I thought you were here before?” The man leaned down. “At these events, you’re supposed to rotate.”
“My mum never taught me to share. Staying put. You, on the other hand, should skedaddle.”
“Miss, is that okay with you?” The man stared at her.
She brought her hands up. “Yes. Please forgive us. Tell Henry your next drink is on me,” Mari offered.
“No problem. That won’t be necessary.”
She smiled and watched the man walk toward one of the last empty seats. Swinging her attention back to Conrad, she hissed under her breath, “You assume too much.”
“No argument there. I live on instinct more often than not, deep in the Amazon jungle or high up on a mountain pass.” The bell rang. Three more minutes of torture. Conrad released one of her hands. He moved his arm under the table, and his fingers settled on her knee. Her breath hitched. Immediately, his eyes widened incrementally. He was an alpha. A photographer and experienced journalist. No doubts in how he watched for every sign. Absorbed the details from the environment.
“This isn’t a dangerous trek across the Andes in search of a challenging shot,” she said, gripping the fingers of his free hand, still on top of the table.
“Then tell me to stop.” Conrad didn’t even wait. He began working the material of her dress upward. The scent of their mutual arousal tingled her nose. He was already aware she was turned on. Together they were a hairsbreadth from doing something crazy. She met his eyes, glimmering pools that caught her breath and stole the line of sane thinking from her head. Damn, his warm fingers had her giddy and ready to explode.
“Please,” she whispered. The cool air swirled across her thighs. His hand moved upward, whispering heat over her skin like a lover’s touch. Crud! This alpha playboy was about to be just that if she didn’t stop the insanity.
“Give me what we want.”
“You’re delusional.” Her heart rat-a-tat-tatted in her chest. The oven door of her imagination opened, blazing a billowing cloud that spread from her belly, up over her breasts and toward her chest. Scorching her skin from underneath. A nonstop heat wave rising up to the top of her head.
“No. I’m not. You’re afraid.”
She reached for his drink and gulped the contents. Holy hell! “What was that?” she said hoarsely.
“Two fingers of straight bourbon. Soon, I doubt you’ll be feeling any pain, or was that your intent?”
“I don’t run from trouble. Or hadn’t you noticed? Two shots of jet fuel isn’t going to have me spelunking under the table. I’ve not indulged this evening, thanks to someone who has kept me busier than busy.”
Big freaking talk! She wanted to howl at being torn straight down the middle by Conrad’s super sexy mojo. Good Mari wanted to keep her professional profile, and then there was bad, naughty Mari, clicking her heels at the idea of meeting one hot wolf between the sheets.
For a second, she saw a solution, telling her sassy self to shut the hell up. She could go find Sonya’s office and hide. Barricade the door and pray that the fates weren’t this desperately bored to yank her chain. He might find another wom
an to torment and not follow her.
“Fine. If you’re not a little coward, then meet me upstairs. We don’t have to do anything. Talking is fine, but I’d rather do it naked with you under me.”
Her jaw dropped. The man didn’t have a censor on his tongue. “News flash. Do you realize I can hear your thoughts?”
“Baby, if you only knew what I’m thinking.”
“No, no.” She held up her palm, her pulse skittering dangerously at all that he’d said and didn’t say. “Trust me, no mystery there. Crystal clear.”
“There are ten more speed dating rounds tonight. Correct?”
“What’s your point?” This was going to be priceless, and she shivered as his fingers stroked up the inside of her thigh, then teasingly down again.
“Stop wasting our time when we could be skin-on-skin by now. If I leave, that’s one man down for the dating cycle. You don’t need to stay in rotation. But if you don’t come with me, I’ll stay here and do what I just did to ten more of your dates. I’ve no problem telling an army to get lost when it comes to you.
He stared at her while trailing his fingers over her skin, pulling her garter. He ran his finger underneath and approached the zone of no return. He arched an inky brow. She felt drugged by his clean, masculine scent. Woody with a hint of musk that filled her senses, whetting her appetite. Her thoughts swirled uncontrollably as her body went up in flames by the sound of his voice, further fueled by the pressure of his warm fingers stroking her skin. Everything about him was firm and demanding.
His fingers crept closer. He traced the last inch of the garter up her thigh, causing her ache to swell, her breath to hitch. The tables were draped in linen tablecloths. The perfect venue for his erotic game where her body was a traitor. Next time, there would be table mats. Nothing that could hide wandering hands.
“Why are you doing this? There’s a roomful of women who are more to your…ranking?” She bit back a moan, the coil of lust tightening deep inside her belly, and she opened her legs wider for his hand.
“Now, there you’re dead wrong. I desire only one woman. The one right in front of me and ready to come all over my finger. Aren’t you?”