Sex & the Single Girl (4 page)

Thankfully, she'd learned a thing or two about acting in her time behind the camera as a documentary producer, and it wasn't that much of a stretch to work up some annoyance at Aidan's presumptuous, self-absorbed shtick.

“I'm not about to get into a discussion of your physique in light of your earlier comment.” She met his gaze levelly, hoping no barroom brawls would break out at the club in the moments she took her eyes off the security monitors. The scene inside her office promised to be more explosive anyhow. “What exactly
do you mean you need to carve a spot out for yourself at Club Paradise?”

He leaned back in his chair as if utterly at ease with the notion, then laced his fingers over his reclining chest. “Melvin pissed off a lot of people with this latest stunt, Brianne. You know he took off because we were ready to nail him with racketeering charges?”

No, she hadn't known. Didn't want to know. She'd said goodbye to Melvin and all her mother's other shady—but well-providing—boyfriends and ex-husbands ten years ago. Brianne was well into a new chapter of her life now.

Thoughts of Jimmy the guitar player niggled in the back of her mind. Had she somehow started her own parade of shady boyfriends?

“That doesn't have anything to do with me or with Club Paradise.” She stood, eager to walk away from the implied intimacy of the darkened room and the proximity of their seating arrangement. She flipped on all the overhead lights, determined to chase away all traces of shadiness in her life. Starting now.

“Whatever business Mel was running out here, it's not going on anymore. The women I'm partners with have so much collective fury at the Rat Pack that we could probably take down all of them if they were ever stupid enough to set foot in South Beach again. But they're not. Mel is gone and he's going to stay gone.”

Aidan blinked against the sudden deluge of high wattage filling the room. “And you think you can make it so by the sheer force of your will? Mel has connections all over town and a strong racketeering
operation in place. He's not going to walk away from that income forever.”

Why had her mother ever married such a loser?

Bad enough Pauline Wolcott-Baxter-Menendez-Simmons unabashedly married the men for money. Did she have to be so unconcerned with how they made it?

Brianne leaned against the master control board, strung tight and wishing she could appear half as at-ease as the agent lounging in her office chair. She set the remote control on the panel beside her. “He knows better than to contact
me.
”

“I disagree. And since I'm running this investigation, that means I'm going to hang out at the club, watch the surveillance cameras with you, and generally be your best friend for the next few weeks.”

Like hell. “I don't think so, Aidan. One of our owners is an attorney, you know. If there's a way to legally keep you out of here, Lainie will find it.”

He rose, unfolding his six-foot-four frame from his slouchy position in the chair.

To Brianne the subtle physical message couldn't have been more obvious. He was no longer talking to her as an old friend. He was issuing FBI-guy orders in no uncertain terms.

“I don't think Lainie is going to find an easy opponent in the justice system, Bri, but good luck. In the meantime, I'll be here tomorrow night before you open.” He drifted closer, his shuffling walk landing him a scant foot from Brianne.

She had to look up at him to meet his gaze. One perk of her height was that she usually got to meet men eye-to-eye. She could have gained a couple of
inches if she'd pried herself off the soundboard perch, but that would have put her much too close to Aidan.

“I'm not showing you my videotapes without a search warrant.” By God, she was going to lay down some rules here, too. If Aidan thought he could blithely walk through her door and charm her into doing whatever he wanted, he was dead wrong. She'd learned the hard way not to put her trust in this man.

“Why? So I can't see the drunken three a.m. crowd pissing on the sidewalk on their way out of the club? Or so I can't see the floor show for free? If Melvin's not going to contact you, what do you care if I sit here and watch your tapes with you?”

That was the whole damn point. She didn't care what he
saw,
she cared that he'd be sitting two feet away from her all night, every night. Besides, she needed to show him he couldn't waltz back into her life and expect he could manipulate her like some infatuated teenager.

“Bring a warrant or you don't see a damn thing.” She'd hold her ground on this one.

“Fine.” Nodding, he conceded her point. “But I'm going to be all the more demanding about what you have to show me if I go to the trouble of getting the paperwork.”

She scavenged up a few remnants of her New York attitude, the facade she'd needed to make it in the city's competitive film industry. She leaned close enough to whisper, her chest hovering inches from his.

“Demand all you want, Aidan. I don't think you'll be able to obtain a warrant for what you
really
want to see.”

If there were any justice in the world, the fact that Aidan chose that moment to lick his lips would mean Brianne had the power to make his mouth go dry.

An idea that pleased her to no end.

“Good thing I don't need the court's permission for that particular show.” He picked up the remote control and pressed play, starting the footage of their meeting in Honeymoon Heaven. “Why don't you sit down and watch the sparks fly between us on camera and then try to tell me we're not going to end up seeing a whole lot more of each other before this investigation is through?”

He shoved the remote into her hands and headed toward the door.

And despite the staggering number of New York film producers she'd mouthed off to in her day, she couldn't think of a single comeback to Aidan's preposterous suggestion.

He turned at the door to shoot her a parting grin. “See you tomorrow, Bri.” He lifted one eyebrow in signature Aidan style. “But only as much as you are ready to show me, of course.”

Damnation.

As he disappeared into the hallway, Brianne wondered how she'd survive the next go-round.

Somehow she'd dropped a sexual gauntlet tonight and Aidan Maddock hadn't wasted any time picking it up. If she was going to maintain her sanity over the next few weeks, she needed to get her mind off those mouthwatering muscles of his and back on her job.

Because Brianne had already revealed too much of herself to Aidan ten years ago, and she didn't have any intention of making herself vulnerable to him again.

B
RIANNE SLID FARTHER
into the gurgling outdoor hot tub, allowing the bubbles to tickle her nose as she held her glass out to Giselle for more champagne.

To celebrate their first night in business, Club Paradise's new owners had agreed to meet after closing for a soak under the stars in one of the many oversize tubs surrounding the main pool. Amid wafting steam and the thrum of the bubble jets, the four of them were sharing stories from trenches. Summer had lost one of the dancers' outfits and the woman had trotted out topless, Giselle had gotten into an argument with a drunken patron who insisted she didn't know how to make a proper Sex on the Beach, and Lainie had a run-in with the cigarette girl over leaving her station in the middle of the evening.

The last part came as no surprise to Brianne, of course.

Brianne raised her glass for a third toast, wishing she didn't have to share her bad news with the happy celebrants. She smoothed a slick finger over the painted ceramic tiles on the rim of the hot tub, pausing on the image of a towering pagan god in the Atlantis-themed picture. The golden god's knowing expression reminded her too much of a certain cocky Fed. She
covered the picture with her beach towel, obliterating the pagan with Egyptian cotton, and decided she couldn't keep her news a secret any longer.

Shoving a damp curl out of her eyes, she cleared her throat. “On a less happy note, we received a visit from the FBI tonight.”

Giselle choked on a sip of champagne while Summer nearly spurted hers across the pool.

Barely managing to swallow her beverage, Summer slammed her glass down on the ceramic tiles. “You're kidding.”

“Unfortunately, I'm not. Remember the guy I told you about who's been chasing down Mel forever?”

“Aidan Maddock.” Lainie sat up straighter, tense and wary. “He questioned me after Robert disappeared.”

“Me, too,” Giselle added, casting an apologetic look at Lainie. “And I'm used to huge, intimidating males with those brothers of mine, but I thought Maddock was totally scary. What did he want?”

“He pretty much told me he's going to become a regular fixture at the club until he uncovers a lead to the Rat Pack. Mainly Mel.”

“Oh great.” Summer saluted the idea with a nearly empty glass. “We'll attract lots of business with a Fed at the front door. Did you at least inform him our bouncers don't wear three-piece suits?”

Lainie held out one manicured hand for attention, sort of Barbara Streisand style. “Maybe it's not such a bad thing. I mean, pardon me for sounding like a bitter divorcée, but wouldn't we all rejoice just a little
if every one of the sleazeball Rat Packers got carted off to federal prison?”

Summer and Giselle, both of who had been dating former part owners of the business, looked ready to agree.

“But at what cost to the resort?” Brianne retorted, staring up at the stars as if there might be some answer contained in the limitless indigo sky.

And, a little voice inside her asked, at what cost to herself?

“We didn't even know he was here tonight,” Lainie replied, plucking up her glass again as if the matter was settled. “As long as he sticks to the shadows, he's not going to be chasing away business. Sure, we're inconvenienced now, but in the long run, if this Agent Maddock catches the cheating bastards who ran Club Paradise into the ground, so much the better.”

Giselle and Summer were quick to raise their glasses to that sentiment.

Great. Brianne slid deeper into the tub and wished she could slink away from this problem as easily. Even her own friends thought it was a good idea to hang out with the only guy who had ever broken her heart.

Brianne sighed, but she toasted the plan along with everyone else, silently agreeing to help Aidan with his investigation.

She just hoped he could solve his case quickly because she had a real problem with men who tried to push all her buttons.

 

T
HE
S
OUTH
B
EACH STRIP
was kicking into high gear by the time Aidan found an empty parking space near
Club Paradise the next night. The club wouldn't open for another hour, but he wanted to stroll through the grounds, get the lay of the land before he crossed swords with Brianne again.

Thanks to her and her knack for sexual innuendo, Aidan hadn't slept the night before. Her implication that he wanted to see more of her had been dead-on accurate and his mind had obligingly created an image of naked Brianne for Aidan to drool over until the crack of dawn.

Now, tired and irritable, he faced the prospect of sitting next to her all night with as much enthusiasm as a suspect being read his Miranda rights.

Good thing Aidan knew how to focus on his job. As long as he ignored the sexual chemistry between him and Brianne, he'd be fine.

Winding his way through the palm trees and vacant cabanas on the resort's flawless beachfront property, Aidan made mental notes of the terrain and tried not to remember he hadn't been able to ignore the chemistry thing with Brianne when she'd been all of eighteen.

How could he ever pretend he wasn't attracted to her now that she was every bit a consenting adult?

Well, maybe not completely consenting. Yet. Damn it, why did he keep thinking she
might
be if he applied a bit of effort to the task?

Tugging open a tinted glass door to one of the resort's four connecting Mediterranean-style buildings, Aidan welcomed the Arctic blast from the air-conditioned interior. He'd been overheating from more than just the sultry Florida air.

A pop tune blared from the disco, bouncing through the marble and tile hallways to the small reception area between the hotel and the club. The sound would be more muted once carpets were installed, but for now, Aidan was subjected to a warbling soprano belting out bubble-gum lyrics along with the reigning pop princess who sang over the speakers.

Curious to see the source of that brazenly out-of-tune voice, Aidan peered into the club to find two women congregated with Brianne at the end of the low stage and a colorful blonde with braids in her hair sashaying down the runway like a model for hippie-wear. Her see-through skirts were layered so you couldn't truly see through them, but the effect was intriguing, especially given their rainbow hues.

The singing woman taking center stage provided a perfect foil for austere Brianne on the sidelines in a chocolate brown, sleeveless cat suit. Brianne looked like a jewel thief ready for her next heist, minus only a ski mask. Her every move was elegant, her tall body as quietly graceful as the blonde was noisily ostentatious.

“Well, who do we have here?” The blonde stopped in mid-chorus, drawing the gazes of the three other women toward Aidan.

He could sense the slight stiffening of Brianne's already perfect posture, feel the thread of tension emanating from her.

She laid down the clipboard she'd been holding, but she didn't exactly run over to greet him. “Summer Farnsworth, say hello to Aidan Maddock, our very own federal agent.”

Brianne reminded him of the other women's names. He'd questioned them both after Melvin and company took flight. The blonde on the runway stared down at him with unmasked surprise.

“
You're
the FBI guy?” Her gaze roamed over his backward baseball cap and his white T-shirt that advertised a regatta from three years ago.

“That's me. But I'd prefer if we kept that as low-profile as possible. Sort of an undercover thing.” He turned to Brianne and nodded toward the doorway. “Can I bother you for a few minutes?”

He needed to get this initial face-off with Brianne behind him so he could move on with his investigation.

She didn't answer, but she picked up her handheld computer and sauntered toward the door, long legs perfectly outlined by the slim fit of her outfit.

Aidan took the opportunity to stage whisper to Brianne's friends, “If anyone asks, I'm her new lover. It's part of the cover.” Could he help it if his work provided fun perks?

“I heard that,” Brianne called over one shoulder, not even pausing as she plowed through the doors toward the hotel.

Aidan nodded to Brianne's partners before he followed her, thinking he'd probably need to investigate them a little more fully. Summer Farnsworth and Giselle Cesare seemed like face-value women, but Lainie Reynolds might have a few things to hide. She'd been married to Robert Flynn, Melvin's closest partner, when the Rat Pack had pulled out of South Beach.

Of course, he wasn't thinking about anyone but
Brianne by the time he caught up to her slim silhouette strutting down the hall toward her office.

“Wait up, Bri.”

She had obviously inherited the New York pace while living up north.

Brianne spun on him in the middle of the opulent corridor. Perfectly centered under a massive crystal chandelier, she stared him down and began her advance. Her high heels clicked an ominous tone on the Moroccan tile floor as she closed the space between them.

“If I'm going to allow you to invade my life over the next few weeks, don't you think you could at least do me the courtesy of keeping up with me?”

She looked pissed, and he would guess that didn't have anything to do with him not keeping up with her. Still, some demon drove him to provoke her.

“But how are we going to perpetuate the idea that we're a couple when we can't even stroll along side-by-side?”

The spark in her green eyes practically burst into flame.

“And how dare you put me in a position of having to look like your…” She gave him a thorough once-over, as if she couldn't believe she'd have to attach herself to him even if it was only in rumors. “…
lover.
Did it ever occur to you I might object to such a ludicrous cover story?”

“You really think it's ludicrous?” He peered down at his three-year-old regatta shirt, wondering if she had a point. Brianne definitely looked more uptown than Aidan ever would.

She continued to advance, backing him right into a marble table beneath a mirror the size of a swimming pool.

Not that he was complaining. He finally got a whiff of that perfume that had teased his nose all last night.

Sort of musky and dark. Almost as if she'd gone out and bought a bottle of sex stimulant and spritzed it on her neck.

“It's utterly preposterous. Daisy, for one, is going to see right through it given that you were
her
lover just yesterday.” She pointed a finger dead center at his chest and held it a fraction of an inch from his sternum. “You could have told them you were my neighbor, my brother, my mechanic or my decorator, Aidan. Any of them would have been more plausible.”

“Your decorator?” He wasn't totally certain he'd heard her correctly. He was too busy taking small breaths so the aphrodisiac she used as perfume wouldn't bring him to his knees.

“Yes. My decorator.” The idea made her smile. Not the real Brianne smile, but the half-cocked version that made her look like a sultry pinup girl.

Okay. He was a politically correct guy and all. And he was pretty sure there were plenty of heterosexual male decorators in the world. But from the wicked gleam in her eyes, Aidan would stake his badge she was trying hard to insult him.

And she was doing a damn good job.

“But I bet I can pull off a convincing kiss a hell of a lot better than I can hang wallpaper.” He inched forward just enough to back up his claim.

Her eyes widened. The finger she'd been jabbing at
him fell to her side. She even backed up a step before regaining her take-no-crap attitude.

“Don't forget I critiqued your kisses, Maddock.” She pivoted as if to continue toward her office, deeper into the vacant recesses of the luxury hotel. “I wouldn't be too sure how convincing they can be.”

Ten years ago, she'd melted in his arms so fast he'd almost forgotten she was just barely legal. He ground his teeth, knowing a gentleman would
not
remind her of the way she'd reacted the last time he'd kissed her.

But damn it, some sort of reminder was definitely in order. He would have easily squelched that seldom-used gentlemanly conscience if only he didn't need to make some serious plans for his stakeout tonight.

Instead, he settled on a surprise move that served both his purposes. Catching up to Brianne's hell-on-wheels walk, Aidan slipped an arm around her to halt her in her tracks.

He leaned close to her ear to speak, close enough to feel the rapid-fire pounding of a pulse gone rogue.

“Wait a minute, Bri,” he breathed against the shiny silk of her hair.

Right away, he knew he'd made a big mistake touching her. Not only did that brief contact fog his brain on the details of an investigation that had seemed so important two seconds ago, but having Brianne in his arms—even just for a moment—also made him start to rationalize ways he could instigate a hot, no-holds-barred encounter with her and still be true to his case.

An ill-advised thought at best. A surefire road to disaster at worst.

She remained perfectly motionless, almost as if she was afraid to breathe for fear of touching him any more. “What are you doing?”

He would take his hands off her any second.

Soon.

“I'm steering you in the other direction.” And proving to her she wasn't totally immune to him, maybe.

Too bad what started out as a bid to save his ego had just bitten him in the ass.

He no longer had any idea who was proving what to whom. But he knew exactly how much he wanted Brianne right now.

“My office is this way.” She managed to say the words without moving an inch. “Along with all the surveillance equipment.”

Aidan needed to explain he wanted a walk-through of the whole property first. In his mind, he told her exactly that.

In reality, he breathed deep enough to get the full effect of her sex-in-a-bottle perfume.