“I thought you’d never ask,” she replied. “I’m wearing stripper heels and ratty old sweats.”
Okay. That wasn’t even close to what I’d expected. When she’d mentioned the stripper heels, I’d gotten a little excited, hoping she’d paired them with nothing but a pair of panties. Or better yet, nothing at all. Sweats? I hadn’t seen that one coming. “That was unexpected.”
She giggled. “I’m cleaning, and I didn’t want to break out the step ladder to get to a cobweb in the corner. While I was on my way to deal with it, I remembered I needed to text you. I look ridiculous.”
I chuckled. “I’m sure you don’t look ridiculous. That sounds hot.”
She snorted. “Hot? I don’t think so. When I used to tend bar, I’d pair these with some outfits that one could describe as hot.”
“How long ago did you tend bar?” I asked.
“I worked as a bartender in my early twenties. After I bought the club, I continued to tend bar part of the time, but I dressed more professionally then.”
“You own a club?” I asked.
“Two, actually, but I sold both,” she explained.
“Are they ones I’d know?” I asked.
She hesitated. “I can’t believe I’m embarrassed to answer this question. I’ve never been ashamed of my businesses.”
“Now, I’m even more curious to know the names of these clubs,” I admitted. “From our very short acquaintance, I can tell you’re not the type to be easily embarrassed.”
“You’re right about that,” she agreed. “How about if I tell you tomorrow? I need to finish cleaning, and I want to see your reaction.”
“All right,” I agreed, disappointed that our call was coming to an end. “I’ll pick you up around six.”
“I’ll be ready,” she replied.
“Wearing your stripper heels?” I asked.
She laughed at my question. “No. These are a lot more uncomfortable than I remember. I think I’ll stay casual.”
“That’s a pity,” I said with an exaggerated sigh.
“I’ll wear them if you do,” she offered.
“On second thought, sexy heels are overrated,” I stated. “Don’t stay up too late cleaning, Mercy.”
“I won’t,” she assured me. “See you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow,” I murmured before ending the call.
As I stripped out of my clothes and slid between the sheets, I was acutely aware of Mercy’s presence on the other side of the wall. The image of her in worn sweats shouldn’t be such a turn on, but I still felt the strong temptation to slide my hand beneath the sheets and stroke myself as I pictured her reaching above her head, stretching her perfect body.
Images of all the ways I could distract Mercy from cleaning played through my mind as I drifted off to sleep that night. Needless to say, my dreams of Mercy were far from innocent.
Chapter 8
Spencer
Work dragged on forever. I was in a meeting with my project planning team, discussing our next client. No one was happy about having another client added to our workload this close to the holidays.
“Your father is a real bastard, Spence,” Mia muttered from her spot on the opposite side of the conference table. With her long chestnut hair secured in a tight bun, she had glasses perched on her nose. She was attractive with bright green eyes and a curvy frame. I’d known Mia for years. Our fathers had gone into business together more than thirty years ago, and after my family moved from the UK, our families spent a lot of time together. Mia was like a sister to me.
It was funny that Mia blamed my father since hers was also a partner in the company, though her dad likely hadn’t assigned this project to Mia.
“Your dad agreed on this client, too,” I reminded her.
She blew out a frustrated breath. “You’re right. Maybe he suggested assigning us another client to punish me for something.”
“There are so many sins to choose from,” Liam teased. He’d recently turned forty but still acted like the youngest in the group. We all blamed his youthful nature on the time spent playing with his six kids. Liam and his wife couldn’t have children of their own, but they seemed determined to adopt at least ten of them. Liam wasn’t very tall, only around five-foot-nine, with short black hair and dark brown eyes.
Kayla remained silent as she studied the figures for our newest client. Her blonde hair was a mess due to her nervous energy that morning. She’d started with her hair in a bun, taken it down to run her fingers through it, and then tried two different versions of a bun. Her brown eyes hadn’t once left the documents.
“Can we turn down this project?” Kayla asked. “I’m not sure we have the experience to help someone with this sort of venture.”
“Good point, Kayla,” Mia agreed.
I nodded. “You’re right about us not having experience with clubs, but my dad wouldn’t have assigned it to us if he didn’t think we could handle it. He’d never screw over a client that way. We’ll go in and help them get everything in order like we always do.”
Mia looked over the numbers. “This guy is doing well, but he thinks he can do better after an efficiency evaluation. We’ll spend more time going over books than going into the clubs. It’s possible we’ll need to visit only the newer clubs he’s acquired since he seems more concerned with the performance of those.”
“We can always hire an outside consultant familiar with this type of business,” Kayla suggested, smiling for the first time since we’d arrived that morning. “Maybe a stripper from one of his clubs, like The Frisky Beaver?”
“It might not be a bad idea to bring in someone more familiar with club management,” Mia suggested.
“Maybe you can talk to someone from your family, Mia?” Kayla told her. “Isn’t your mom dating some bigshot who owns a few clubs?”
Mia visibly struggled to mask her irritation at Kayla’s suggestion. “That’s just a rumor,” she grumbled in response.
I decided to change the subject quickly before anyone asked more questions. Mia’s mom often fell off the radar, and rumors of her with a new man were no surprise. Sometimes Mia joked right along with us, but she wasn’t in the mood this time.
“My neighbor behind me used to own a couple of clubs,” I remarked. “Maybe I can talk her into consulting with me.”
“The elderly woman who hates you?” Mia asked.
“It turns out she’s not elderly, and I think she’s starting to like me,” I replied with a grin.
“No hiring consultants just so you can bang them,” Mia replied with a shake of her head.
“I get that you’re in a bad mood, Mia, but that was uncalled for,” I told her. “I’m not the one who hired Suri.”
“Sorry about that,” Kayla added with a guilty smile.
“I’m the one who introduced her to you, Kayla,” Mia admitted.
“I’m glad that one is gone,” Liam added.
“Not exactly gone. She broke into my place yesterday,” I said with a sigh.
“Is she in jail?” Kayla asked.
“No,” I replied. “She left after some coaxing.”
“If she broke into your place, why didn’t you have her arrested?” Mia asked as she set her glasses on the table and regarded me with narrowed eyes.
“Mercy asked the same question,” I admitted.
“Who’s Mercy?” Kayla asked. “Oh, she must be the not-so-old-neighbor.”
I gave them the details of my Sunday morning, starting with finding Suri naked in my kitchen and ending with me asking Mercy out.
“That is quite a story, Spence,” Mia admitted. “I’d like to meet her after hearing how she responded to Suri’s bitchiness.”
“Same here,” Liam agreed. “She sounds intriguing.”
“Suri seemed interesting and sane when we first met her,” Kayla reminded them. “No hiring anyone you’re dating.”
“Agreed,” Mia replied.
I shrugged. “Whatever. We can find another c
onsultant.”
“You aren’t going to promise you’ll keep your relationship with Mercy platonic until after she consults with us?” Mia asked.
“Nope,” I replied honestly. “I have no intention of keeping things platonic with Mercy. Now, let’s get back to work. We need to decide where we’re going to start with this project.”
Chapter 9
Mercy
My day was so busy, I didn’t have time to think about my plans with Spencer. In fact, I was racing to my bedroom to get ready at half-past five.
“Damn,” I muttered after I put on my makeup. “I should have asked where we’re going.”
The few times I’d seen Spencer, he’d usually been dressed casually. Only once had I seen him on his way around the building in a suit, but he still struck me as a jeans and t-shirt guy. That meant he wasn’t likely to take me anywhere too fancy.
I grabbed a dark pair of jeans and a black sweater. The front of the sweater plunged just low enough to offer a little tease of my cleavage. I felt crazy making sure I had on one of my nicer bra and panty sets. It’s not like Spencer was going to see them. We were just having dinner. Still, something about knowing my undergarments matched gave me confidence.
The desire to look my best wasn’t new. I liked dressing up, and I had the overstuffed closet to prove it. I had everything from formal-wear all the way down to ratty clothes for helping friends move. My suits were pushed to the back of the closet since I’d had little use for them in recent months, but I expected to need them again, eventually.
I reached out to grab a cute pair of flats but hesitated as my eyes moved along my collection of heels. They’d gone untouched for months, but I had enjoyed slipping a pair on the night before. When I’d complained about them being uncomfortable, I’d been lying. All of my shoes were high-quality and very comfortable. Having worked a job that kept me on my feet for hours, comfort had always been a top priority.
Grabbing my black ankle boots with four-inch heels, I slipped them on and zipped up the back. Looking in the mirror, I was happy with what I saw and certain Spencer would feel the same.
My doorbell rang right at six, and I smiled.
When I opened the door, Spencer started to smile before his eyes widened slightly.
“Wow!” was all he said.
“You like my sweater?” I teased.
“I like everything,” he admitted. “On my way over here, it occurred to me that I didn’t give you any clues about where we’re going. I’m not normally this bad at date planning.”
“So, you plan a lot of dates,” I remarked as I grabbed my purse and locked the door.
“I seem to have allowed my mouth to get me into yet another tricky situation,” he said with a grin.
“You don’t seem bothered by that,” I replied.
“No, I have accepted that I am a bit addled around you,” he admitted.
Spencer caught my hand at the bottom of the stairs.
“Where are we heading?” I asked.
Since Spencer had on jeans and a black Henley, we weren’t going anywhere too fancy.
“How does pizza sound?” he asked. “I worked through lunch today, and I’m starving. Pizza is my go-to when I’m really hungry.”
“I can always eat pizza,” I assured him.
He opened the passenger’s door of his sporty little two-seater Mercedes.
“You like Mercedes, don’t you?” I asked with a grin.
He chuckled as I slid into the soft leather seat. “I’ve always had a thing for Mercedes.” He walked around to the other side and slid behind the wheel before he continued. “Do your parents like them? Is that how you got your name?”
“My dad loves cars, and my mom thinks car names are glamorous,” I explained.
“Now, your sister’s name makes more sense,” he remarked.
“Poor Bennie got the worst of it,” I explained. “Her name is Bentley Marie Whitier.”
He stopped at the end of the driveway and looked at me. “Your sister’s initials are BMW?”
I nodded as he pulled out of the lot. “I also have a brother named Lexus. You have a brother, right?”
“Yes, Leo,” he replied. “He works at my family’s New York office.”
“What does your family do?” I asked.
“They evaluate companies and offer suggestions on how they can run more efficiently,” he explained. “My father’s business partner has two children who also joined the business. Michael works in New York, and Mia works in San Francisco with me.”
“And do you enjoy doing efficiency evaluations?” I asked. “Or is this simply a matter of you being forced into the family business? Do you secretly dream of becoming a rock star?”
“A rock star?” he asked with a laugh. “I don’t see that happening. My mum tried to get me to take up piano when I was a kid, but it turns out I have absolutely no musical talent. Are you ready to tell me about those clubs you owned?”
Chapter 10
Spencer
We were at a stoplight, so when I looked over, I caught Mercy’s hesitation. Something was bothering her about the subject.
“If you don’t want to talk about this, we don’t have to,” I assured her as I returned my attention to the road.
“It’s okay,” she assured me. “I sold one of the clubs because I was having trouble keeping up with running two. My partner in that club also wanted out. The other, I decided to sell after I was shot during a robbery. I came close to dying, and I didn’t want to go back there.”
“You owned Euphoria,” I stated as the memory of the incident came back to me. Her face might have been on the news, but I hadn’t paid that much attention.
“Yes, it hadn’t been open all that long, but it was the pinnacle of my club ownership career,” she explained. “I’m proud of all I accomplished.”
“You said you owned two clubs,” I reminded her. “What was the name of the other club?”
“The Frisky Beaver.”
I waited, convinced she was kidding.
“I can see you think this is a joke,” she said with a laugh.
“It’s not?” I asked.
“Nope,” she replied. “First, I worked there as a bartender, and then I bought the club with another employee. It was a total dive when we took over, and I’m proud of all we did to turn it around.”
“This is crazy,” I admitted.
“That I owned a strip club?” she asked.
“That you owned a strip club that’s part of my latest project at work,” I clarified.
“You’re joking, right?” she asked.
“I’m not,” I replied. “Euphoria has been a huge success from day one. I know from scanning the documents we received on The Frisky Beaver that it was doing very well when the current owner purchased it.”
“I’m proud of all I accomplished with both clubs,” she stated.
“You should be,” I agreed. “We often hire outside consultants when we start a project with an unfamiliar business type, and we need someone on this project. What do you say? Will you work with me?”
“I’ll think about it,” she replied.
Chapter 11
Mercy
Dinner was nice. Spencer was easy to talk to, and there hadn’t been any uncomfortable lulls in the conversation. He hadn’t mentioned the possibility of me working with him again. The idea intrigued me. I knew a lot about club management, and there were things I missed about that part of my life.
“So, your sister is married to Gage Addison and working closely with Reckless Release now,” he recapped. We’d been talking about my family for the last ten minutes. I’d told him all about my parents, who were amazing, and then we’d talked about Delaney and Bennie. “What does your brother do?”
“Technical ghostwriting. He wanted a work-at-home job after he—” I paused in my response. It’s not that I’m ashamed of my brother, but he still didn’t like me telling everyone about his time in prison.
“What’
s wrong?” The concern in Spencer’s voice made me smile.
His warm hand settled on mine. “It’s just that my brother hasn’t been the same since he got out of prison. I’m not always sure if I should tell people about it.”
Spencer nodded with a thoughtful expression. “I can only imagine how hard it is for him. What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Lex messed up, and one of his friends died,” I explained. “He and his friends all had serious drug problems back then, and he would likely have ended up dead himself if he hadn’t gotten arrested. It was a tough time. My brother wouldn’t even let me visit him at first, and when he got out, he wouldn’t leave his apartment unless he absolutely had to go out. He’s doing much better now.”
“I’m glad he’s doing better,” Spencer replied. “Thank you for going out with me. I didn’t make the best first impression, and I wouldn’t have blamed you for avoiding me after the scene at my condo yesterday.”
“Do you think Suri is going to be a problem?” I asked as Laney’s worries came back to haunt me. All day long, I’d told myself it was ridiculous to cancel on Spencer because of his ex’s actions, but I still worried she’d be too much for me to deal with. Now that Spencer had brought her up, those worries were at the forefront of my mind.
Spencer released my hand and sat back in his chair with a sigh. “I don’t honestly know. She’s been destructive in the past but never violent.”
“She has no problem breaking into your condo,” I added.
“There is that,” he agreed. “Until yesterday, I assumed she was out of my life. I’d received some messages and even a few emails from her, but this was the first time she stopped by my place.”
“What kind of messages?” I asked. “I’m just trying to figure out if she’s obsessed with you, and if I need to worry about her.”
“Are you worried about dating me because of Suri?”
I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t at all worried about his ex. I’d always been the ballsy one in my group of friends—at least, I had until this last year. “My cousin was attacked by her husband’s ex when she was pregnant with their first child. Suri may not be that level of crazy, but I am worried.”
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