PerpetualPleasure (3 page)

“You think I’m going to let you parade yourself in front of
everyone?”

He was losing control and the upper hand, Lucie thought with
satisfaction. She might still win this round, no matter how hard she had fallen
under his spell a mere moment ago.

“My body, my choice. Besides, I think they’ve seen worse.”

“I think they’ve never seen anything better. That’s the
problem,” he grumbled.

A compliment? He was hands down the strangest, most baffling
and enticing man she had had the misfortune of happening by in a long time.

Out. Now!
“I’m touched by your concern over my
virtue, but there’s nothing to salvage, really. Now be a good boy and open the
door for me, like a gentleman would.”

He shrugged. “I seem to have left him at home.”

“And we already established I’m a shameless
demoiselle
in no need of rescue. Open. The. Door.” She tried to look all threat and
intimidation, feeling absolutely ridiculous facing off with a
six-foot-and-several-inches-tall titan who could probably crush her with his
pinky.

“Tell me where you live,” MacCale demanded.

“No.”

His mouth tightened. Such a beautiful, kissable mouth.

“Fine. Tell me where you work.”

“No.”

His nostrils flared. She hadn’t seen such a thing in ages.
It plain fascinated her, the storm and the calm battling in him, aggression
clashing with frustration.

There was a good reason people shouldn’t live to two or
three hundred as she had done. Who would even survive so much emotion? To keep
her sanity, she had learned to play dead. But this man… He was so alive, so
brimming with passion it almost hurt her merely watching him exude emotion.

It did hurt and no good could ever come of that.

“Are you prepared to be here all night, because I can be a
tenacious bastard when I really put my mind to it,” he said. “I’ll get hungry
and thirsty and I won’t settle for an appetizer. You’ll get cold and tired and
you’ll have to curl up against me on that couch over there and we both know
where that will lead, protection or no protection.”

Lucie gave him a quick once-over. Her intuition had been
honed to perfection through the decades. This man had a forceful edge but not
the kind that didn’t take no for an answer. “You don’t strike me as a rapist. I
usually see those coming.”

“What?” He looked shocked for a moment but recovered fast.
“I wouldn’t have to force you. If I remember correctly,
you
lured me in
here. Told me to fuck you.”

He had her there. In her deadened little heart she had been
thrilled he had come after her. But now he was getting to her on so many levels
her head was spinning and not the other way around as she had planned.

“All right, that I did, more power to you,” she conceded.
“Now, step away from the door and let me go.”

Lucie was much more comfortable with her own devils than
this devilishly tempting man she didn’t know Jack about.

But you want to, don’t you? Aren’t you just a little bit
curious how far he could take you?

Hell no. He was dangerous, he only didn’t know it and she
wasn’t going to educate him on that particular point.

“Tell me where you work,” he insisted.

He meant business, Lucie could tell.

“I can hear your brain churning, little Lucie. And I can see
you shivering. Are you cold, honey? Move closer and let me take care of that.
Or if you prefer the dress, you know what to do.”

She weighed her limited options fast. She could try to fight
him but she doubted from the fit, tight look of him he would go down quietly.
She knew several arts of attack and defense but maybe not enough or not the
right ones to take the hulk down.

Or…she could tell him a little white lie and let him believe
he had won.

“Smoke and Mirrors.”

“That club?”

He knew the place? “None other.”

She could see surprise come alive in his eyes, then a spark
of unbridled interest. It would be hard to stay away from her favorite
time-outs for a while and ensure she would be home free, but she doubted he
would set foot inside the LGTB club.

She would never see his handsome face or hear his deep,
seductive voice again.

“What exactly do you do there?” he asked.

“I answered your question. Now let me go.” It was her turn
to witness him thinking a mile a minute as he helped her back into her dress.
He pulled her hair from underneath the collar with gentle hands, tied the dress
tightly around her waist and smoothed the silk down her back and derriere with
his palms.

“Now.” He stepped away from the door and opened it in a
grand gesture. “You’re free to go. Celebrate it with a kiss?”

“Have a good night, Mr. Moore.”

“It’s all downhill from here, honey.”

Lucie couldn’t help but smile as she stepped out. He didn’t
follow her but she could almost feel his stare as she headed down the hall.
Such a pitiful waste of good material but what else could she do?

It had been a near-life encounter but she was free to breathe
now. Free to leave. Free to get back to her game of catch and release, no
strings or stones attached. Free to be as lonely and melancholy as she dared.

Oh joy.

Chapter Two

Unable to stay away from her favorite hot spot for another
night longer, Lucie headed for Smoke and Mirrors a week later. She parked on
the edge of town just so she could walk down the memory lane that was Martin
Luther King Boulevard. It would always be West Broad Street to her. She’d spent
countless fun-filled nights in the neighborhood listening and dancing to the
jazz of the roaring twenties. The old buildings had been bulldozed to the
ground to make way for new ones, but she could see the layers beneath as she
made her way from block to block, remembering what business or club used to
stand there as if it were yesterday.

Smoke and Mirrors sat where one of her favorite social clubs
had been situated, but that was only part of its eclectic charm. The entrance
fee was collected at the door by the bouncer known simply as C, but unless you
could say the password, there was no admittance. The correct word had always
been Pulaski, a widely advertised fact, yet C had fun with the occasional
tourist who had somehow missed the all-important information. Innocent fun,
since his job was not only to attract customers but to talk patrons out of
leaving before last call. In that department, he was one smooth talker.

Waiting patiently for her turn in line, Lucie added a coat
of lip gloss and dug up a note. The queue moved smoothly, quickly bringing her
eye to eye—or eye to barn-door chest—with C. His size alone made anyone looking
for a fight think twice.

“Miss M,” he greeted her with a nod and a smile. If he was
known by an initial only, so did he address the regulars.

“Good evening, Mr. Pulaski.” Lucie passed him the note,
which he pocketed without a glance.

“I hope to see you later,” he said. “Much later.”

The downstairs bar was already jam-packed, the air filled
with mellow music, loud talk and even louder laughter, and perfumes to knock
out an elephant. Slowly making her way to the stairs leading to the first
floor, Lucie greeted the regulars and made note of the strange faces filling
the several seating areas in the large lounge to capacity.

She loved the LGTB club’s laid-back atmosphere with its wide
range of patrons and debonair mix-and-match décor of delicate faux antique
chairs flanking heavily carved mahogany tables. You could switch tables but
you’d better take your seat along or lose it, and the downstairs bar was in a
constant state of the most curious game of musical chairs she had ever seen.

The long vintage bar boasted a ridiculous amount of
handcrafted beer along with liquors, wines and liqueurs for all tastes and
occasions. She wasn’t much of a drinker, though. She spent most of her time on
the dance floor upstairs running on rhythm. But there was no dancing until
she’d sprinted upstairs and said hello to Bruno.

She wanted to ask her bartender friend whether anyone had
been looking for her but didn’t bother. His odd expression as he greeted her
told her something was up.

“
Mademoiselle
Marcotte, I thought you had fallen off
the edge of the world. You’ve been sorely missed, you know.”

She had taken an instant liking to the thirty-something
barman. He was flirty and funny without being pushy or sleazy.

“Why thank you, Bruno, it hurt me too, not being able to
attend. Now dish it out. What’s new?”

Bruno jerked his jaw to his right. “Felix, for one.” He
handed Lucie her favorite shot.

Felix?

Lucie turned her head to see MacCale sitting at a nearby
table, dressed in black, looking devastating and toasting her. Snapping back to
Bruno, Lucie threw back the shot. Her hand shook as she set down the glass.
“Hit me again, will you?” He looked surprised but said nothing, only mixed her
another SoCo and lime. “Has he been here all night?”

Bruno laughed. “Honey, he’s been here
every
night. He
came around asking after a Lucie who supposedly worked here and I had to tell
him you only frequent the place. But then you didn’t show up and he kept coming
in night after night, getting more rattled by the evening. Tell me, Lucie, what
does he have that the rest of us poor souls don’t, that you actually had to
evade him?”

Disregarding a very good question, Lucie downed the shot
before shooting Bruno a stern look. “You could have called and warned me.”

Bruno chuckled, the devil. “That would have killed all the
fun. You need to let your hair down more often and he looks like the man to
help you out with that.”

Oh, MacCale had made her let her hair down all right, then
open her legs and frozen heart to him. That was the problem.

“I think I’ll just call you Brutus from now on, you traitor,
you. How do you know he’s not some crazy stalker?”

“Is he?” Bruno feigned shock, grinning ear to ear.

Lucie wanted to smack him. “You said he’s been here every
night?” What in the world could he want but to give her a piece of his mind for
wasting his time?

“Yeah. And he is making both the boys and the girls go
grrr
since he doesn’t seem to be interested in either. Five days into this I
actually thought about giving him a stick to beat them off but this is just too
damn entertaining. Why don’t you wiggle that sweet tushy of yours over there
and put an end to all the gossip.”

Unbelievable, Lucie thought. MacCale Moore gave a whole new
meaning to the word determined.

Bruno lowered his voice. “Don’t look now but he’s getting
up. Why don’t you gimme a big sloppy one and see how he likes that.”

Lucie slapped his arm playfully and tried to calm her
nerves. She obviously still had a set. “You wish.”

“You know I do.” Bruno leaned over the counter and took hold
of her chin. Lucie turned her head at the last second and Bruno’s kiss landed
on her jaw.

“Damn!” His smile was as wide and warm as ever. “I’ll nail
that one day. I know I will.”

Lucie patted him on the cheek, dug up a banknote that more
than covered the drinks and turned to get up and face the music.

She looked over at where MacCale stood waiting, his
impressive height and strong build doing funny things to her self-composure.

Come on, Lucie.
You’ve seen hunks, you’ve had
hunks, you’ve discarded hunks.
MacCale Moore was no different. Except he
was. The pit of her stomach, her tightening pussy, her hair almost on fire all
told her that he most definitely was.

Trying to shake off the nervousness, Lucie walked to him
leisurely, drawn by the hungry, provocative look in his eyes. She stopped a
good and safe couple of feet before him and asked, “Having fun?”

He closed the distance, forcing her to look up.

“The party is picking up by the second. What took you so
long?”

Lucie shrugged. “I’ve been busy.”

“Well, you’re obviously available now. Let’s go.” He grabbed
her wrist. His touch was galvanizing and totally inappropriate considering she
couldn’t go there. She couldn’t go anywhere with him.

Lucie pulled back and to her secret disappointment he
immediately let go. “I just got here,
Mac
.”

“And I’ve been sitting here for seven nights straight,
Luce
.
As was brought to my attention, you don’t actually work here, but from the
hours I heard you put in you just as well might. You have been neglecting your
friends, honey. And you’ve been avoiding me.” He was glaring down at her, the
tension radiating from him doing nothing to alleviate her restlessness.

“Guilty as charged, on both accounts. I just never thought
you would be as…what was the word you used? Tenacious? This borders on
obsessed.”

“You have yourself to blame for that. Now finish what you
started. Let’s go.” He took hold of her hand again but didn’t pull, only held
it. Being touched so gently felt even worse than being dominated. Lucie knew
how to counter an offense. MacCale left her feeling defenseless.

“That bossy act almost backfired the first time, remember?”

“Almost doesn’t count. You’re here. I’m here. Let’s go.” He
still made no attempt to leave, merely held her hand and gaze in his.

He was turning the tables on her again, making her want him,
crave him. She could feel the unwanted pull toward him swelling in her gut, the
same relentless attraction she’d felt from the moment he’d first touched her.
It made her question her judgment on several levels.

You can’t. Don’t do this to yourself and for once have
some pity on them too.

Lucie drew a calming breath. Carefully modulating her tone,
she said, “You don’t need me for what you came here for. I bet the bi-women
here wouldn’t mind catering to your every fantasy. Bruno told me they’ve asked
you out to play.”

“And who is he? You looked awfully cozy over there.” He
sounded as jealous as she felt, thinking about all the women who had come on to
him, touched him, wanted him…

“What is that to you, Mac?”

“No, that’s my line. Who is
he
to you?” His grip
tightened to a possessive hold that matched the sudden dominance in his eyes.

He had no right. That he did it all the same both thrilled
her and filled her with trepidation.

“He’s a friend.”

His frown turned deeper as he pulled her closer. “Friend as
in coffee and chitchat pal or intimate friend?”

“None of your business, so back off.” Lucie tried to step
back but this time he wouldn’t let go. He wrapped one arm around her waist and
took hold of her face.

“Sorry, I’m past that point. And as for the forty fucks and
counting I’ve been offered, I’m not interested.” His thumb was on her mouth,
caressing her lips exactly as it had done that first night he had touched and
branded her.

It felt good. It felt way too good.

“Stop messing with the lip gloss,” she tried weakly.

“Stop messing with my head,” he murmured.

Lucie shook her head in confusion. “Cross obsessed. I can’t
even think of a word. Are you one of those types who only want what they can’t
have?”

His eyes lasering into hers, Mac considered her. “May I
remind you once again you started this? You came on to me at Boyd’s,
propositioned me. If it hadn’t been for that unfortunate rubber incident, we
would have made love on that divan or whatever the hell it was until dawn.”

Had he thought about everything that could have happened on
that damn chaise? Had he tortured himself with visions of them, tangled bodies,
the tangy smell of sex, fucking until daybreak as she had done?

“You might be an all-night kind of man but I’m a one-night
kind of girl.”

“The hell you are,” came his flat reply. “You could have
given me any name, any address. You gave me yours and invited me here instead.
You thought the second I spotted a guy pretty as a gal or some man made a pass
at me, I’d scatter. But I don’t scare easily. You thought I would. And you
secretly hoped I wouldn’t.”

“Is that so?” Lucie asked, lost in his self-assurance and
the animal glow of his dark, golden eyes. The man had the most unbelievable
amber eyes she had ever seen, and she had seen some pretty peepers in her time.

“That is so,” MacCale said with conviction. “And I know why
you come here.”

There was something wrong with him, something that made her
hair stand on end around him. Vibes that made her wary and made her waver
between fuck or flight.

She had met men like him over the decades and turned on her
heels every time. Intuitivists, men interested in looking deeper into her soul,
not only in what her body had to offer.

It gave her all the more reason to keep her liaisons brief
and perfunctory. She didn’t want someone poking around her head or creeping
into her heart. She didn’t need a shoulder or a lap, loving words whispered in
heat that cooled with the sheets and the light of dawn. If that’s what he was
offering, she wasn’t interested.

“You come here because except for the occasional woman who
swings both ways, they leave you alone.” He sounded irritated, but it wasn’t
anger that blazed in his eyes, only a steady and seductive heat. “You’re not
interested in them. Neither am I. You want a man, here I am. Besides, you owe
me a meal.”

If she went through with it, would he leave her alone? If
she let him inside her pussy, could she make him forget about every other part
of her?

She had honed her own drill to perfection, but this man
didn’t play by the rules, he insisted on a set of his own, and for that alone
he rated far beyond others on the danger scale.

Running out of excuses and alarmingly low on resolve, she
tried explaining. “I can’t drive for a while. I just had two drinks.”

“I can. All I had is a Coke. I want a clear head around you,
Lucie.” His palm slipped to the back of her head, anchoring her in place. He
lowered his head, his breath fanning her neck, his lips brushing her cheek as
he bent to whisper in her ear. “I want to remember everything. Make sure you
remember everything too.”

There it was. Her ticket to freedom. The very words that
should have sent her running from danger and the threat he posed. Except she
didn’t feel threatened. She felt seduced.

“Just a nightcap and a late-night snack.” Lucie forced an
insistence into her tone she didn’t really feel. “It’s a one-time offer only,
do you understand?” She might live to regret trusting him. She sure as hell
didn’t trust herself around him. “Do you understand?”

He studied her closely for the longest moment then let out
an, “Uh-huh.” It was too noncommittal for her liking but obviously all she
would get.

She took his hand back in hers. He squeezed it gently. “I’ll
make it worth your while, I promise,” he said.

That’s what I’m afraid of.

* * * * *

“C.” Whatever Mac slipped the bouncer parked firmly at the
entrance of the club as they stepped out killed the usual tirade of objections.
“Miss M., Mr. M,” was all he said, accentuated with a courteous nod and the
raising of an imaginary hat.