by Diana Seere
She strode through her area, serving the drinks, noticing two good-looking guys in suits were giving her a few of those appreciative glances at that very moment.
What a perfect gig for her. It was understood she couldn’t get involved romantically without losing her position, so she could turn them down without any of the awkwardness she struggled with in her daily life. She could be beautiful and sexy without getting into unwanted trouble. She could have fun.
“So nice to see the new girl enjoying herself,” a low voice rumbled in her ear.
Electric pleasure shot through her, starting at the base of her scalp, spreading out to the tips of her toes and fingers, then back into a hot, deep pool between her legs.
Him.
Heart racing, she glanced in his direction without turning her head. “Can I get you anything, Mr. Stanton?”
He didn’t reply, each moment of his silence loaded with innuendo. Finally he said, “What do you have?”
She could have fun, she reminded herself. He was going to be family. He was a member of the club. Nothing could happen.
She turned and met his gaze. “What would you like?”
A grin spread from one ear to the other. “Such a wonderful question. Small, but loaded with potential.” His gaze dropped, hiding his eyes beneath thick, dark lashes. “Like a delicious morsel.”
What precisely was he staring at? Her mouth? Her breasts? She wondered—she couldn’t help but wonder—what he liked. “A morsel, Mr. Stanton? Perhaps I should get you something from the restaurant. There’s a wonderful sea bass and pumpkin curry tonight.”
“I had a different kind of morsel in mind.” He licked his lips. “But you knew that, Jess, didn’t you? You may not play, but you certainly know the game.”
Her face heated, which annoyed her because he’d be able to see that he’d unbalanced her. “I know that I need to get back to work.” With unsteady fingers, she lifted the whiskey smash and looked around for the person who’d ordered it, suddenly going blank on who it had been. The cable news anchor? No, she was drinking vodka shots. One of the men at the congressman’s table? No, no, they were sharing a bottle of some expensive French wine, and Carl had warned her to make time to get more in the cellar.
“I believe you’re looking for the actor,” Derry said in her ear, his low voice making her shiver.
Without thanking him, she hurried over to the man sitting by himself at a small table, reading on his phone. If he was annoyed by the delay, he didn’t show it. Relieved, she returned to the bar.
Where Derry was leaning, long legs stretched out, now waiting for her.
“Not your type, then, if you could forget him so easily.” Derry put an enormous hand over his heart. “I’m gratified beyond words.”
She reached for her water bottle behind the bar and gulped down a long, soothing drink. She’d been wrong to think she’d be able to have fun with him. Very wrong. He wrecked her concentration. He could wreck everything.
“Jess, we need you to get another bottle of that cabernet now,” Carl said, gesturing to someone behind her. “Gillian will show you how to get to the cellar. I’ll get you another double, Mr. Stanton.”
Jess met Carl’s gaze, seeing from his expression that he was implementing a rescue mission. “Right away,” Jess said.
Gillian appeared, cocked an eyebrow at Derry, and led Jess away with her long, bare arm entwined in hers. She was the type of woman Jess had expected to see at an elite club—tall, blonde, gravity-defying breasts.
“You’re not ready for that one, darling,” Gillian said, shaking her head. “If he bothers you, give me a signal. And he will bother you. It’s in his DNA. Can’t help it, poor little thing.”
Jess snorted. They’d reached the service elevator behind the bar. “Him? Little?”
Gillian laughed, not entirely with pleasure, and punched the elevator button. “Inside he is little. A spoiled little boy with too many toys.”
“You mean women.”
“Yes, I mean women,” Gillian said. “Not that he doesn’t take care of his toys. Never that. It was a pleasure to be played with.” A soft, girlish giggle escaped her.
They got onto the elevator, where Gillian showed her an unmarked button that would take them below the lobby to the wine cellar. Lilah had mentioned something about being careful down here but wouldn’t explain what she’d meant. After the car sank down the dozen or so floors and the doors opened, Jess thought she understood. It was dark, and the ancient cobblestone floor was uneven. In the stilettos the other servers were wearing, this place would be hazardous. Unsteadily she stepped into a dark hallway that looked like the entrance to a medieval dungeon in a Hollywood movie. Unfinished stone walls with black iron sconces casting uneven light.
“I thought we weren’t supposed to get involved with the members,” Jess said. She didn’t want to sound judgmental, making a bad first impression with a coworker, but Eva had been quite adamant on that point. What Lilah had done may have ended well, Eva had said, but it broke the rules.
“I swore I wouldn’t, but I couldn’t help myself.” Gillian took a few careful steps into the hallway and turned, running a hand over her perfect body with a sigh. “There’s just something about him.”
Gritting her teeth, Jess walked past her to get the wine, wherever it was. She didn’t care if there was something about him. She’d denied herself for years. Self-denial was her middle name. She’d keep on doing it, no problem.
Gillian opened an old, scarred wooden door in front of them. The letters TPC stood out. “You know what’s really scary?” She laughed softly. “I’d do it again in a second. Eva could be standing there threatening to fire me, and I wouldn’t care. He’s that good.”
With Gillian’s laughter echoing in her soul, Jess got the wine. The two of them went back upstairs without another word about Derry Stanton.
Jess Self-Denial Murphy, she thought to herself. No problem.
Her scent was so overpowering and all-consuming he could taste her in the back of his throat. How could you taste someone you’d never kissed? No amount of whisky was washing the distinct flavor away. He suspected the only way to get rid of this taste was to actually lick her. Kiss her. Probe and lave and drink from her. The mystery of the forbidden was his only problem. That was all.
Derry just needed to satisfy his curiosity. Then he would go back to baseline and all would be well and right with his world.
Right?
Carl walked past him, carrying a neat little plastic container with handles that he clicked open. Pulling off the top, the bartender reached in and began lining up small little red, green, and white items on a small counter behind the bar.
Intrigued, Derry approached. In the dim light of the Platinum Club, it was hard to make out what Carl was doing, and Derry’s shadow always preceded him. “A small mountain,” Gavin nicknamed him as a tiny cub, his body big and muscled, barrel-chested and hirsute now as a man. Standing at more than six and a half feet, with the body of a lumberjack, Derry tended to block out light. Sometimes even the sun. Just as he reached the bar, a familiar pair of voices called his name.
“Derry!” One a baritone, one a soprano. He turned to find himself greeting his brother, Gavin, and his future sister-in-law, Lilah.
Jess’s sister.
Gavin gave him a curt nod, but Lilah opened her arms and swooped up on tiptoes to give him a welcoming, warm embrace. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
No. Her scent was distinctly different. Jess and Lilah may be sisters, but there was none of Jess’s uniqueness in Lilah. As he pulled away from the embrace, he opened his eyes, startled to meet his brother’s deathly glare.
Oh dear.
No missing the meaning of that look.
The background jazz caught his attention as the smooth slide of a saxophone played a familiar tune. Too familiar. Something about Santa and reindeer. He watched Gavin’s ear twitch and an eyebrow go up in disgust.
“Already?” said his
brother. “It’s not even Halloween yet. Why on earth is Eva playing Christmas music now?”
Lilah giggled, her voice like glass chimes being played with silk-covered mallets. “I love holiday music!” Gavin’s sour face went to neutral as she squeezed his arm and sighed. “I can’t wait to go to Montana and have sleigh rides and hot chocolate by the fire and make cranberry and popcorn garland for the tree.”
Derry bit back a laugh. Gavin’s idea of celebrating Christmas was peppermint-flavored vodka and a trip to Australia for the duration.
Falling in love changed everything.
“And I’ll knit us matching red sweaters!” she added. “With little colored ball ornaments you tuck into special loops. We could even do light-up sweaters, like the one my mom has!”
Derry’s laugh could not be contained.
Gavin’s glare sharpened.
“Did someone say Christmas?” Eva asked, reaching for one of the baubles Carl had just unpacked. It was, to Derry’s surprise, a fresh sprig of mistletoe.
Gavin groaned. “How cliché,” he ground out.
“How wonderful!” Lilah squeaked.
“I don’t need an excuse to kiss you,” Gavin growled and proved his point, dipping Lilah down to the ground with a kiss that literally curled the woman’s toes. He could see them respond through her translucent, fashionable shoes.
Breathless, she came up from the tongue acrobatics and gave Gavin a thousand-watt smile. “We’ll have mistletoe everywhere at the ranch, alongside all the Christmas decorations I have in storage at my mother’s!”
Derry crossed his arms over his chest and stopped trying to hide his glee at Gavin’s distress. Funny the things you learn about someone you fall in love with on a dime.
“Marry in haste, repent at leisure,” he said under his breath so that only Gavin could hear it.
As Gavin opened his mouth to reply, Lilah handed Derry the sprig. “You’re the tallest, Derry. Can you hang this?” She pointed to a small hook just over the walkway a few feet from the bar.
He did as told. She gave a cheerful, quiet clap and jumped up and down a few times, some members admiring the resulting jiggles from afar. He cut his own eyes. Time to think of Lilah as a sister.
Her sister, on the other hand, wasn’t really family…
Eva spoke to Carl in muted tones, then turned to the group. “We normally don’t decorate while guests are here, but a member survey indicates that people want to be part of the fun. If you move into the fireplace room, you can help with the tree and the mantle. We have hot toddies and peppermint margaritas available.” She gave Gavin a wicked smile.
“A triple scotch, Carl,” Gavin ordered. “Neat.”
“Yes, sir,” Carl said with a barely concealed smirk.
An image of Gavin and Lilah dragging toddlers to one of those mall Santas made Derry chuckle, the idea driving out thoughts of Jess for a split second. Good. He needed something to keep him from smelling her. To distract him from a body that began to throb for her. To make him stop the interminable dawning realization that these feelings, scents and sensations weren’t going away.
“Jess!” Lilah said excitedly, reaching for her sister. So much beauty in one hug. He saw Gavin admiring Lilah and then noticing him looking, too.
Gavin frowned and pulled on Derry’s arm. He didn’t budge an inch.
“Jess is off limits,” Gavin whispered.
Lilah took a step back from Jess and smiled, looking up. “Oh, look! Mistletoe!” Lilah’s eyes flitted between her sister and—
Derry.
Could his future sister-in-law be any more obvious? Were they ten-year-olds playing spin the bottle? Derry’s eyebrows rose with an insolent, languid look that he hoped covered for his eagerness to complete the silly ritual.
Even a fake excuse to kiss Jessica Murphy was better than no excuse.
Gavin shook his head slowly, giving Derry a stare that made him look remarkably like their bossy older brother, Asher.
Off limits, Gavin mouthed.
Jess gave a nervous laugh, her eyes shifting around the room with an endearing look of panic. You’d think she hadn’t kissed a man before.
Time to fix that.
She was in his arms in half a second, his lips on hers, his hands sinking into the warm, luscious curves. This would be perfunctory. A social nicety. The completion of a seasonal ritual designed to elicit titters and smug smiles.
And then he was lost, sinking deeper and deeper into the sweet honey and cream of a woman he never knew existed. Now that he knew she did, he could never let her go.
And oh, that taste. She was the taste.
His. Only his.
Chapter 4
For Jess, it was as if the world had disappeared in a blast of red-hot fire. Lilah, Gavin, the club, the music, the conversation—gone. There was only him. She couldn’t even remember his name. The big one, the strong one, the bad one. The one who was wrapping her in flames.
Knees buckling, Jess reached for his shoulders. She dug her fingers into muscle, and feeling his strength brought her some comfort. But it wasn’t enough. Her hands wanted skin, warm flesh to match the blaze enveloping them. To match the wet, slick heat of his mouth.
It wasn’t a kiss. It was a meal. He was consuming her in fire, engulfing her deepest places with the taste of him, this burning deliciousness.
She slid her hands up the side of his neck—finally, warm skin under her palms—and up into the soft, thick waves of his hair. She gripped his skull between her hands and held him where she wanted him. Feasting on her mouth. Bowing to her. Taking from her. Opening—
With a grunt of pain, not pleasure, he broke the kiss.
“While I admire the holiday spirit,” Eva said loudly, “the cornerstone of pleasure is moderation, don’t you think?”
Derry staggered back a step, pulling Jess, whose hands were still entwined in his hair, along with him. Realizing this in horror, she jerked away, stumbling without his support and feeling the blood rush to her face.
What had she just done? My God. It was like the time when she was little and had fallen off the swings. At first it had been fantastic to fly through the air, but then she’d landed and everything hurt and she couldn’t breathe and everyone was yelling at her.
“Jess?” Lilah wasn’t yelling, but her tone wasn’t happy, either.
In a daze, she looked at the faces around her. Gavin had pulled Derry a few feet away and was still holding his arm, looking like he was about to tear it off and feed it to him. Lilah hovered between Jess and Derry like the landlord of an Old West saloon trying to prevent a gunfight.
And Eva…
Oh God. Her boss. There wasn’t much on her face at all. It was a professional mask. What was left of Jess’s stomach fell to the floor.
She was going to lose her job on her first day if she didn’t spin this somehow. Like that childhood day in the playground, her lungs weren’t filling with air and she ached all over. But she could fake it.
Laughing with as much bravado as she could muster, she pointed a finger at Derry. “They weren’t kidding. You kiss like an industrial vacuum cleaner. You could get a second job doing tonsillectomies.”
Silence. Then, after a moment, Lilah put a hand over her mouth, stifling a giggle.
“The club must like having you around,” Jess continued. “Suction like that would be more effective than the Heimlich maneuver. If anybody’s steak goes down wrong, you’re the man to call.”
Derry’s mouth dropped. A flush rose up on his neck.
“I think you owe the lady an apology, brother,” Gavin said.
“She—she—I was not alone—” Derry looked more confused than angry.
Jess grabbed her tray. There weren’t any drinks on it, but the prop gave her confidence. “Perhaps alone time is just what you need, big guy.” She turned to Carl. “Could you please hand me my water? I’ve got the funniest taste in my mouth.”
Shooting Jess the faintest of smiles, Eva picked up a
box from the bar. “I’ll be in the fireplace room.” She looked at Derry. “Neither your attendance nor participation is required.”
After she had glided away, Jess relaxed slightly. She gulped the water Carl handed her and scanned her section, but another server had taken over for her while she was…
Indisposed.
Insane.
Gavin had released Derry and now seemed to find the situation hilarious. She’d compared him to a vacuum cleaner. She’d laughed at him. She’d humiliated him.
Good. Inside, she was a seething mess. She couldn’t let him do anything like that ever again.
“Better get back to work. See you later, Lilah, Gavin, Dyson—” With a mock gasp, Jess put a hand over her mouth. “Derry, I mean.”
Gavin and Lilah’s laughter gave her the exit she needed. She dove back into the rhythm of serving drinks to the elite.
Although she didn’t see him leave, she knew—she felt—the exact moment Derry was no longer nearby.
It felt awful.
Derry stormed out of the club humiliated and reeling, his skin buzzing like bees.
It wasn’t the first time, but typically he was drunk and had done something to deserve those feelings. This was different. He was dumbstruck and aching, like an adolescent fumbling through his first kiss.
That had been no child’s kiss, though.
That had been eternity in the form of a woman.
How her body had yielded to his, those lips opening and taking him in, welcoming him with the sighs of a thousand years of yeses. Her scent embedded itself in his DNA and made him want to smell her for the rest of his days. To taste, to touch, to sniff, to devour. For a moment, like in the elevator, he’d felt his body strain to shift into its other shape, but the feel of her in his arms had given him the power to control it, to remain a man who could—who would—drive his body into this woman who was born for him.
And then.
The mockery.
As his mind raced through the past few minutes, replaying it like a television caught in an infinite loop, his blood doubled in volume, and he felt the familiar expansiveness settle into his cells, burning with the pre-shift frenzy that the prodromal warnings gave him.