A couple walked out through the door, releasing the sound of jazz that was at a perfect conversational level. She wasn’t sure how anyone ever connected at nightclubs with music pounding so loud that all one could do was make sign language. The man awkwardly reached for the woman’s hand. Jennessy dreaded starting over, learning how to date, deciding how far to go. She had seen many a friend go through the horrors of dating and had felt so safe in her comfortable, old relationship.
Willie nodded toward the couple. “See, they just met, now all lovey-dovey. Give me your tag, and I’ll scan it in.” He scanned the bar code and studied the results on a computer screen. “We found three good matches. One is good, very good indeed. I hardly ever see a match so high: ninety-eight out of a hundred! He likes swimming and running, nature, many of the things you do.” He frowned. “He is meeting another match right now, though, so we’ll have to see how that goes.” He handed her tag back. “Please, come in, have a drink and hors d’oeuvres, and I’ll find you when he’s finished. Or if another of your matches shows first.”
Ninety-eight. Wow. “I’ll wait for him.” Hopefully he wouldn’t be leading some woman out that door.
She entered the club, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the elegant but dark space. The only lighting was cast by tinted bulbs that sent splashes of color across the walls. There was a mingling area, a small, empty dance floor, and a bar that was packed with people. She took a rum punch from one of the servers and wandered the space, making bits of conversation here and there. Small talk was hard when you weren’t talking about test scores or forensics details. Wonder how a conversation about blood splatter would go over?
Small tables were tucked into private alcoves. She could only glimpse a back here, the side of someone’s face there. She decided not to be nosy and helped herself to another shrimp and pineapple skewer.
Willie made his way over, that grin plastered over his face. “You’re in luck. They didn’t make a match. Please, come with me.” He led her to one of those alcoves. The man sitting at the table stood and turned as Willie said, “This is Saxby. Saxby, this is Jennessy.”
She felt her stomach drop as Saxby’s smile faded. No, not faded but vanished, replaced by a look of guilt. Before she could even tell Willie to never mind, he’d sprinted off.
“It’s not what you think,” Saxby said.
She held out her hand, hoping the lack of lighting camouflaged her humiliation. “Look, you don’t have to make up another story. All you had to do was say that you weren’t interested.” Those words came out as though they had sharp edges, clawing up her throat and stinging her mouth. “In me,” she forced herself to add.
“No, it’s not that. You’re a beautiful woman, nice and funny and—”
“You just want to be friends. I get it.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “No, you don’t.”
“Maybe I talked too much. What guy wants to hook up with some chick who spills her guts two minutes after they meet? I understand, really. I’m tall, not in the best shape, and my hair is a nightmare. I’ll tell Willie it’s a no-go.” She spun around and left. How mortifying! She should have known Saxby was lying about having a girlfriend. What woman in her right mind would allow her boyfriend to come here alone?
She found Willie at the hostess stand. “Saxby and I already met, and we didn’t click.” But they had clicked. That’s what made it so much harder to take. He’d given her advice, listened, and warned her to be careful.
“Oh, so sorry. But good news: One of your other matches is here.”
She glimpsed back to find Saxby looking even more pained than he had in the van. Served him right, lying to her. Ironically, she would have felt better if he’d lied to get into her pants. Somehow it made it worse that he’d lied to stay out of them.
“Miss Jennessy, meet Magnum.”
The man standing in front of her was about twenty years older than she was. He sported a thick moustache, dyed hair, and a tropical shirt. He took her hand and leaned over to kiss the back of it, the bristles brushing against her skin. “It is my pleasure.”
“Uh…yeah.”
He led her to one of the tables, right past where Saxby still stood. He’d changed, his button-down shirt slightly less rumpled, his dark pants more suited to an after-hours business meeting. Then she realized she was looking at him and not her potential date, who at least was dressed in the spirit of the place.
Magnum told her about his successful bounty hunter company in Texas and how he’d been in the Special Forces. “I was the fastest, strongest, and best shot on my team,” he was saying. “Took out ’bout a hundred of those ragheads.” He made rat-a-tat sounds as he pretended to shoot, and she tried not to look annoyed nor embarrassed by his loud show of racist machismo.
Saxby was watching with a rather concerned expression. She wanted to put a jealous one on his face, a look what you could have had scenario. That wasn’t happening with Mr. Rat-a-tat lookie what a badass I am, so badass I have to tell you all about it. “Jennessy?”
She blinked, focusing on Magnum. “Pardon?”
“I asked what you did for a living. Tell me about the beautiful Jennessy.”
She forced the best smile she could manage and gave him the bare facts. All the while, she watched as Saxby met his next match, who was better quality than what she’d landed. While Magnum hijacked the conversation with his obsession with exotic cars, Jennessy saw Saxby check his phone throughout his meeting with the attractive woman. She heard him say something about a crisis overseas that would affect the markets in an apologetic voice.
Five minutes later, the woman walked away, a sour look on her face. Magnum asked a thousand questions, now more interested in hearing about her than talking about himself. Which might have been nice had she not been so focused on the parade of women who visited Saxby’s table and then left within minutes. He was no lady’s man, nor did he seem to be trying. Then why was he signed up for Connections? And why had he been so attentive and nice to her? She just didn’t get him.
And didn’t want to. “Magnum, it’s been nice, but I’m sorry to say that I don’t feel the right chemistry here. Have a nice time.”
She shook his hand and headed toward Willie. “Do I look like I’d be interested in a man like that? He’s old enough to be my father!”
“Believe me, Miss Jennessy, I’ve seen all types find a love connection. And he’s only ten years older than you, which is within your chosen age range. Sit, have another drink. I’ll check the computer. I’m going to find you the perfect mate, I promise.”
Damn. Why had her gaze gone right to Saxby—the perfectly wrong man?
Chapter 4
This was the worst op Sax had ever run. Not because of the boring attire or even the anti-charming role he had to play. No, it was one woman he’d hurt. Why had a beautiful, classy woman even given him the time of day, much less a kiss he could still feel? But somehow they’d connected, and now he was a total asshat in her view. As much as he wanted to assuage that injured look he saw whenever their gazes met, he couldn’t tell her. And it was driving him crazy.
His first two matches gave him a pass because he kept checking his cell phone and droning on about overseas markets. He pissed off the third woman because he kept watching Jennessy.
She was talking to a new guy, but her attention was straying. Dude wasn’t bad looking, but he had no animation in his expression, no hand gestures, nothing. He just sat there like a rock while he yammered on and on about—Sax strained to hear. The stock market. Commodities. Sax had to contain a bark of laughter—the guy was the real version of him, only dressed more fittingly. Jennessy’s gaze slid to Sax, then quickly away. Dayum but he wanted to march over, tell the guy to take a hike, and sit down with her. Take her hands in his and tell her that hell, yeah, he wanted her. That every time he took a sip of one of those ubiquitous rum punches, he tasted her mouth, felt her tongue sliding across his. Suddenly rum punch tasted heavenly, and
he’d never been a fruity drink kind of guy.
Willie had run out of potential matches for him, so Sax sat at the bar and waited for the room to clear out. None of the women appeared to be drugged as they left the club, though a few were definitely feeling good.
He also saw no sign of drugs being sold. Willie sidled up to a few of the guys who were having about the same “luck” Sax was, but nothing was exchanged but words. Sax heard Willie tell Jennessy there would be plenty of opportunities to meet her love connection just before she headed out alone. Sax’s body strained to run after her. He slumped at the bar and pasted on what he hoped was a despondent expression. Which, of course, was bad for the matchmaking business.
Willie wandered over and patted Sax’s back. “No luck, huh?”
“I thought it’d be easy here, you know? Especially with this matchmaking thing. It’s the whole reason I came. I was looking for a sure thing. That’s what this place is all about, right?”
“Yah, mon, but we don’t guarantee that in our brochures,” Willie said with a broad smile. “We just give you the best opportunity. Of course, some people have more trouble than others.” He glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot, then lowered his voice. “You want a sure thing?”
Sax felt the thrum he always did when a mission was kicking into gear. When they crested a rise and saw the target compound. When they caught the scent of a distant campfire. “Yeah, I do.”
Willie leaned against the bar. “I offer a very private service to select clients. For one hundred dollars, cash, I guarantee you a sure thing.”
This was it. Sax pasted on a skeptical expression. “You’re not talking about prostitutes, are you?”
Willie blanched. “No, not prostitutes. I study our guests, find the right woman and wait until she’s in a receptive state. You know, feeling good. Then I work on her, give her more drinks, tell her about this man she’ll like. I call you, and you take her to your room. Best part, if you don’t like the awkward morning-after part, I escort her back to her room safe and sound. No explanations, you know. She might be feeling a little too good, may not even remember. Or maybe you connect again. We don’t mention the cash part to the lady, of course. It would make her feel cheap.”
No mention of selling date rape drugs. Was this simply about plying some already drunk woman with more alcohol and planting suggestions? Still reprehensible, but trickier to prosecute. “Let me scrounge through my cash, see if I have enough.”
Willie handed him his business card, a number scrawled on the back. “You call me, we meet. I hook you right up.” He winked and ambled off to another lone man who looked dejected.
Sax watched Willie talk to the next man, no doubt laying the same line on him. He stuck the card in his pocket and wandered out. He had a lead, but he didn’t know if it was the crux of what was going on here, so he meandered around the resort. Sax could hear the boys in his head, nudging and teasing him: Sure, you have to wander around a resort filled with nearly naked women…for your job.
In truth, Sax wasn’t enthused about that aspect. Which would have made him check his forehead for fever except he knew why—Jennessy. His focus remained on what the people around the resort were doing, and especially on the drinks women left as they went off to dance or go to the restroom. Then he called Willie. “Hey, it’s Saxby. I’m game for your ‘sure thing.’ ”
“Excellent! Where are you?”
They made plans to meet near the Merengue pool area, the main resort pool. Dance music pounded from the tiki-lit area where, from a distance, it looked like ghosts frolicked. When he neared, he saw that it was a toga party. A sexy woman stood beside a sign that read CHECK YOUR CLOTHES BY THE DOOR. TOGAS ONLY! She pulled a white sheet from a large bin and handed it to one of the guests, indicating that he go into the makeshift dressing cabana. A couple exited one of the “rooms” draped in sheets and checked their clothes with a man who gave them a ticket, coat-check style. The woman wore her sheet over one shoulder, leaving one boob exposed.
“I never get used to seeing those,” a voice said, startling Sax. Willie was also watching the woman, or rather, her breast bounce with her laughter as she entered the “Coliseum.” He put his hand to his chest and rolled his eyes. “Day in, day out, beautiful boobies.”
Sax fought the urge to make a face. “Yeah, must be like working in heaven, huh? Can I bill this to my room?”
“No, cash only.”
Sax pulled out five twenties. “This isn’t an official amenity?”
“It is a private service,” Willie said, not really answering the question.
“So if I’m, say, unhappy with my selection—”
Willie took the bills, and they disappeared into his back pocket. “You see me, and I make it right.”
Even if upper management was involved, they weren’t running it through the books. “Gotcha. So am I going to get a girl tonight?”
Willie glanced at his watch. “Still some time. I don’t just grab any girl, so tonight maybe, tomorrow for sure.”
Sax promised to keep his cell phone handy. As Willie zipped off with his tight, fast gait, a familiar voice yanked Sax’s attention back to the toga party entrance. Jennessy. His chest tightened at the sight of her in a snug sheet, covering everything, yet sexy all the same. Her curls flowed over her bare shoulder and trailed down to her upper back. The reason she was laughing—something the guy with her was saying.
Wha? Where’d she find him?
Hello. This was a resort for picking up people.
Something unpleasant ground away in his stomach even as he told himself he was glad she’d found someone. The dude was tall and skinny, nothing like her ex. Sax could keep an eye on her, from a distance. He needed to watch the crowd anyway. If she happened to be in it…
“You coming in, sugar?”
Sax blinked, surprised to find that the woman manning the entrance was talking to him. “Yeah, sure. Gimme one of those things.”
He stripped out of his shirt, jammed it into his waistband, and draped the sheet over his chest and shoulders. Walking around in a sheet wasn’t his thing. Even in college he hadn’t worn one at the toga parties. The skin that showed was as white as the sheet.
Watching Jennessy dancing with some guy, though, that was real torture. He’d only met her briefly. Why was he so tangled up in her? Maybe because he’d seen her heartbreak, her strength, her impish attitude. And he’d dinged her already injured ego.
He made sure he was out of her line of sight while still maintaining eyes on her. Her face glistened with a dewy sheen of perspiration, and her hair was just wild. He wanted to tangle his fingers in all of those corkscrew curls. Wanted to watch her hips wiggle to the beat of Pharrell Williams’s “Happy.” The sheet buckled over her curves, and he tensed. Was it coming loose? Yes. Yes, it was. He started to jump to his feet when she stopped and re-pinned it.
He was way too focused on Jennessy. He forced himself to watch the rest of the area but saw no sign of drugs being slipped into drinks or even Willie skulking about, working on some lady for him. What he did see was Jennessy’s companion trying to put the moves on her. First his hand on her ass, which she brushed away. Sax nearly lifted himself out of his seat, but he told himself it wasn’t his place. The dude was crowding her, stumbling as he tried to move even closer. Sax curled his fingers over the edge of the table in his effort to keep himself from interfering. She was handling herself fine. Then the asshat grabbed her boobs.
Sax was winding his way toward the dance floor before he could think twice. Jennessy threw the jerk’s hand back, said something that did not appear to be an invitation to her room, and stalked off.
She was long gone by the time Sax reached him. He twisted his fingers into the guy’s sheet and yanked him closer. “Don’t go around grabbing women you hardly know, asshat. Even here, it’s rude. How’d you like me to grab your itty-bitty balls and grind them to dust?” He demonstrated what that might look like with his other hand.
Sax didn’t want to cause a scene. It took everything in him to draw back his anger and release the guy. “Do not let me see you doing that again.” He walked to the exit, catching a glimpse of Jennessy outside the perimeter, watching with a surprised expression. She ducked away before he could reach her. Which was good.
He retrieved his shirt, stripped off the toga, and skulked about the resort looking for Willie or suspicious activity. Nothing more than the debauchery he’d expect in a place like this: a couple getting it on in the bushes by the darkened tennis courts; two guys sitting side by side in the hot tub looking way too happy. He hoped Jennessy had gone back to her room. Her room on the Wild side. He shook his head to dispel visions of her walking around naked. His cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out. Willie.
“Yeah, man,” he answered.
“Meet me at the cabana behind the Connections Club. I have someone who wants to meet you.”
“I’m there.” Sax disconnected and headed toward the main part of the resort. He still thought this might be a prostitution ring, despite Willie’s protestations.
Sax walked around the back of the club and through the gate that indicated the small open-air section was closed for the night. Only one light was on, at the apex of the palm ceiling, and the place was empty.
The scrape of shoe on concrete snapped him to attention, bringing with it a flashback of another encounter in Afghanistan a few years back. That soft sound had alerted him to a bad guy approaching with an AK-47 aimed right at his head. Risk had taken him out a millisecond before the guy would have pulled the trigger. A good lesson in not letting one’s guard down for a second.
Willie was armed only with his big, goofy grin as he came in from the back side of the cabana, helping a woman Sax couldn’t see because of the shadows. Then Willie led her into the spill of soft light, and Sax’s heart dropped. Jennessy. He blinked, sure he was imagining her because she’d been on his mind so much.
Wild Nights Page 4