Authors: Laurelin Paige
When he set his glass down, I
reached out my hand to give him his change, bracing myself for the thrill of
contact that would inevitably happen when he took it from me.
But the contact never came. “Keep
it.”
“I can’t.” He’d given me a
hundred. For one glass of Scotch. I couldn’t take that.
“You can and you will.” His
commanding tone should have rankled me, but instead it got my juices flowing. “Consider
it a graduation gift.”
“Okay.” His demeanor took away my
will to argue. “Thanks.” I turned to stuff the money into my tip jar on the
back counter, pissed at myself for the effect this stranger had on me.
“Is this also a goodbye party?”
His voice called from behind me, drawing me back to face him. “I don’t imagine
you’ll be using your MBA to continue bartending.”
Of course that’s what a suit
would assume. He was probably some business type that shared the opinion of my
brother—there were jobs worth having and jobs for other people. Bartending was
the latter.
But I loved bartending. More, I
loved the club. I’d only started my graduate work because I needed more to do. Something
to keep me “occupied” was what Brian had said when he offered to pay for my
expenses beyond what my scholarship and financial aid covered.
It was a good decision—the right
decision since it essentially stopped my life from spiraling out of control.
For the past three years I’d thrown my life into school and the nightclub.
Problem was that graduation took most of my preoccupation away. And now bogged
down with student loans, I had to figure out how to make ends meet without
having to leave The Sky Launch.
But I had a plan. I wanted a
promotion. I’d been helping with supervisory duties for the last year, but had
been unable to get an official title since managers had to work full-time. Now
that school was over, I was available for more hours. David had been grooming
me for the position. The only wrinkle in my trajectory could be a new owner.
But I wasn’t going to worry about that. Yet.
Explaining my intent to strangers
was never easy, though. How wise was it to use an MBA from Stern for a career
in nightclub management? Probably not wise at all. So I swallowed before
answering the suit. “Actually, I’d like to move up here. I love the nightclub
scene.”
To my surprise, he nodded, his eyes
shimmering as he sat forward into the bright white light of the bar. “It makes
you alive.”
“Exactly.” I couldn’t keep back
my smile. How had he known?
“It shows.”
Hot, rich, and in tune with me. He
was precisely the kind of man that I could obsess over, and not in the healthy
way.
“Laynie!” The shout of the Regular
from earlier drew me away from the intense gray eyes of the stranger. “I’m out
of here. Wanted to say congrats again and good luck. And, hey, here’s my
number. Give me a call sometime. I can help you occupy your week off.”
“Thanks, uh,” I read the name
he’d written on the napkin he’d handed me, “Matt.” I waited until he’d walked
away before tossing it in the trash under the counter, catching the suit’s eye
as I did so.
“Do you do that with every number
you receive?”
I paused. It wasn’t like I hadn’t
hooked up with customers before, but never with regulars. That was a rule. I
didn’t want to see them again. Too much temptation to go crazy over them.
But I had no interest in having
that conversation with the suit. And with his eyes constantly on me, I finally
believed that my attraction to him wasn’t one-sided. Not when he’d tipped me so
generously. “Are you trying to figure out if I’d throw away your number?”
He laughed. “Maybe.”
His reaction made me smile and
made the moisture between my thighs thicken. He was fun to flirt with. Too bad
I had to end it. I placed my hands on the counter and leaned toward him so he
could hear me better over the music, trying not to delight in the searing look
he gave my bosom as I did so. “I wouldn’t throw yours away. I wouldn’t take
yours at all.”
His eyes narrowed, but the
laughter from earlier still danced in them. “Not your type?”
“Not necessarily.” Pretending I
wasn’t attracted to him was futile. He had to be aware of my reaction to him.
“Why then?”
“Because you’re looking for
something temporary. Something fun to play with.” I leaned even closer to
deliver my punch line—the one that would deter even the horniest of men. “And I
get attached.” I stood back up to my full height so I could take in his
reaction. “Now doesn’t that just scare you shitless?”
I’d expected to see panic flash
through his face. Instead, I saw a flicker of amusement. “You, Alayna Withers,
do anything but scare me.” But despite his words, he stood, buttoning his suit
coat as he did. “Congratulations again. Quite an accomplishment.”
I watched him for far too long as
he walked away, more crestfallen about his abrupt departure than I wanted to admit.
It took me a good five minutes
after he left to realize I’d never given him my name.
“Have you met the new owner yet?”
I glanced up from my clipboard at
Liesl’s backside as she studied the contents of the small fridge behind the
bar, her cascading purple hair dancing with her movements. My brow furrowed. I
hadn’t forgotten about the new owner but had tried not to think about him, knowing
I’d obsess.
Irritation at being reminded of
him now filled my response. “When would I have met him?” I hadn’t been at the
nightclub since my graduation more than a week before.
Liesl closed the door to the fridge
and shrugged. “I don’t know. You could have stopped by or something.”
She knew me too well. I’d stopped
myself several times that past week from wandering over. It had been a battle,
but I’d stayed away. “Nope. Actually, I spent most of the week at a spa near
Poughkeepsie.”
“Well, la de da!” Liesl raised a
studded eyebrow. “Did you win the lotto when I wasn’t looking?”
“Hardly. It was a gift from
Brian.” He hadn’t bothered with a card, just an envelope containing the train
ticket and voucher for the resort delivered to me by my doorman the morning of
my graduation. It was thoughtful. And so very unlike my brother. Maybe it had
been his wife’s idea.
“How…nice.” Liesl detested Brian
and never bothered to hide it. One of the few people in my life who knew my history,
she was fiercely loyal and always on my side. My brother, not so much. That
automatically put them at odds.
“Don’t sound so shitty. It
was
nice. I did a bunch of crap I’d never done before—horseback riding, rock
climbing. Tons of spa treatments—feel my skin!” I held out my hand for her to
feel. “My hands have never been this soft.”
“You’re not kidding. Baby
smooth.”
“It was good for me. Really.
Exactly what I needed. Relaxing but still kept me preoccupied.”
“Wow. Score one for Brian. Maybe
he’s finally growing up.” Her voice lightened. “And how was your time not at
the spa?”
Miserable. The five days at the
spa had been perfect, but after the trip was over, I had to return to my real
life, which meant an empty apartment and a mind that refused to stop working. “I’m
glad to be back, if that’s what you’re asking. And I may have four or five
files of new ideas for the club.”
She laughed. “Hey, at least
that’s healthy obsessing.”
I smiled sheepishly.
“Healthyish.” I searched for the Skyy Vodka that my report said should be on
the shelf and marked its presence on my paper when I found it. There were
benefits to an active mind. I always had perfect inventories and flawless
presentations. It was in relating with people—men, to be precise—that obsessing
had its disadvantage.
I leaned against the back counter
and checked my watch. Fifteen minutes until opening. That meant fifteen more
minutes before the lights went down and into club mode. The club with all the
lights on made me vulnerable and bare and out-of-place. Even Liesl’s sassy
gossipy personality was muted as if someone had turned down her volume. We’d
never have this conversation in club mode.
My eyes traveled across the bar,
lingering on the spot the suit had sat in the last time I’d worked. It wasn’t
the first time I’d thought of him since that night. He’d known my name. Had he
overheard it? Not my last name. He must have asked someone, although I hadn’t
seen him talking to anyone else. But maybe before I’d taken his order…I hadn’t
been paying attention to him. Maybe someone had told him then.
“Whatcha thinking?” Liesl cut
through my thoughts, mimicking my lean against the counter.
I shrugged. She’d freak if I told
her some random guy knew my name, assume that my safety was at risk. I, on the
other hand, had distinct empathy for people who had the need to gather more
information than they should. And I didn’t want a lecture on would-be stalkers.
I knew all about stalking.
But I could tell her other things
about the mysterious stranger. “Last time I worked, this guy—” I paused,
remembering how magnetically attractive the suit had been. “This incredibly hot
guy, actually—gave me a hundred dollars for three fingers of Macallan. Told me
to keep the change.”
“And did he expect you to blow
him after your shift?”
“No. I thought that was what he
was about, but…” What had he wanted? He’d seemed so into me, or had I imagined
that, swayed by my own intense desire for him? “I don’t know. He left without
trying anything.” I’d meant to scare him off, but that hadn’t seemed to be the
reason he left. “It was…odd.”
“Midnight masturbation material?”
“I’ll never tell.”
“Your face says it all.”
Over the past week, he
had
entered my thoughts, wearing decidedly less than he had when I’d seen him at
the bar. And while sexual fantasies were innocent enough for most people,
thinking too much about any guy was never good for me and Liesl knew it. But I
didn’t need her lecture. As long as I didn’t see him again—and chances were
slim that I would—I’d be fine.
I moved to straightening things
on the counter that didn’t need to be straightened and changed the subject. “So
the new owner…you’ve met him? What’s he like?”
Liesl shrugged. “He’s all right.
Younger than you’d imagine. Like, twenty-seven or twenty-eight. Fucking rich.
He’s insane about clean-up, though. We’ve been calling him the Bar Nazi. He
inspects everything, wiping his finger on the counters to make sure they’re
clean, like he’s got OCD or something. Oh, and talk about masturbation
material, he’s psychotically hot.”
Liesl thought any guy with a fat
wallet who still had his hair was hot, so her statement didn’t say much. But
the Bar Nazi remark made me smile. The staff had been lax on cleaning standards
for some time and could do with some tough love. At least, that’s what I’d say
if I were a manager. It gave me hope that the new owner and I might get along
just fine.
I wondered about the man who
finally ponied up the unreasonable asking price for the club. Not that The Sky
Launch couldn’t be worth it, but it needed some serious overhaul to stand out
in the sea of New York City clubs. Would the new owner see the place’s
potential? How hands-on would he be? Would he leave the business under David’s
control?
“You’ll meet him tonight.” Liesl
ran her barbell across her lower lip. “I guess he’s a big deal in the business
world. You’ve probably heard of him—Houston Piers or something like that.”
My jaw dropped. “Do you mean
Hudson Pierce?” I waited while she nodded. “Liesl, Hudson Pierce is only the
most successful business man under thirty in America. He’s like a god in that
world.” Hudson had been born into wealth with modern day Rockefellers for
parents. The eldest son, he’d expanded the Pierce wealth tenfold. As a business
student I’d been intrigued with a number of his dealings.
“You know I’m not into all that
Who’s Who bullshit.” Liesl straightened to her full five-foot-ten plus three-inch
heels height. “Though I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s on the Top Ten of, like,
every Hottest-slash-Sexiest-slash-Most-Beautiful list in the world.”
I bit my lip trying to conjure up
an image of him in my head. I’d probably seen a picture of him somewhere, but I
couldn’t for the life of me remember what he looked like. I generally didn’t
pay attention to those things. But something tugged at the edges of my brain,
something I couldn’t quite grasp. A connection my mind was failing to make.
“Anyway,” Liesl said, leaning
back against the counter, “I think he’s around. I saw him go into the offices
earlier when you were grabbing napkins from storage.”
I nodded, not sure if I was
thrilled to meet Hudson Pierce or not. Part of me wanted to fan girl all over
one or two of his more famous corporate decisions. And bouncing ideas off of
him could be thrilling.
Or terrifying. What if I had
nothing to suggest that he hadn’t already thought of? Hudson Pierce didn’t need
my lame ideas to help him make the club thrive.
Unless he wasn’t planning to be
involved with the business.
But why would he buy the club if
he didn’t intend on being involved? In which case…
Crap. Before my visions of the
future I desired went poof in my overactive imagination, I needed to meet
Pierce and feel him out, whether I was intimidated or not.
I took several inconspicuous
calming breaths then returned my focus to stocking the bar. Concentrating on my
task, I pulsed absentmindedly to the techno strains that streamed over the
sound system and let go of all my worries.
The music wasn’t on normal
business volume—we could talk comfortably without raising our voices—but it was
loud enough that I didn’t hear the office door open to the left of the bar.
That’s why I didn’t notice Hudson at first. My back was to him and my gaze
fixed above me as I reached for the Tequila Gold on the upper bar shelf. Even
after I’d retrieved the bottle and turned around, my eyes first found David’s.
He scanned me from head to toe and I smiled, pleased that my tightly fitted
corset hadn’t gone unnoticed. He was the reason I’d worn the damn thing. I
could barely breathe under its vice-like grip. But for the searing look he gave
me, it was worth it, heating me to low simmer in the arousal department.