Sex & the Single Girl (8 page)

“I hear the owners are something of a sight to see too.” Jackson slid into the driver's seat with a grin that was too damn happy for Aidan's taste. “I'll definitely be over there to check it out soon.”

Aidan would have warned him to stay the hell away from one owner in particular, but Jackson was already maneuvering into traffic.

Not that he was worried his friend would turn Brianne's head. Okay, actually he was pretty sure a guy like Jackson would turn her head. But Aidan wasn't worried about it because he didn't have anything invested in his relationship with Brianne.

Last night had been a minor setback according to her. He wasn't about to let it mean more than that to him.

Assuming, of course, it didn't already.

 

A
S THE SUN SET
, Brianne yawned and scribbled out yet another sentence in her revised security plan for the club. She was tired and edgy at the same time, exhausted from lack of rest yet thinking about Aidan and wondering how she'd handle sitting by his side tonight.

She had given up on sleep by noon today. After Aidan left she'd driven up to Palm Beach to the house she was renting in her mother's neighborhood. She'd only taken the home so she could keep an eye on Pauline who was between husbands and starting to fracture at the seams. The location certainly wasn't convenient.

But she'd awakened every hour engaged in erotic dreams of Aidan, so it wasn't as if she was getting much rest anyway. She'd made the drive back to South Beach to tweak a few flukes in her security system, but she'd already been sitting at a table overlooking the beach for hours and she only had a few pages filled with scattered notes about the changes she needed to make.

Pathetic.

She had to get her mind off Aidan. Maybe she needed to hire somebody to watch the security monitors for her until he finished up his investigation.

Not that she had much in her bank account after dumping her life savings into rescuing the club. She'd be lucky if she could afford to pay minimum wages to anyone for more than a day.

Scheming her way around the gorgeous, frustrating problem of Aidan Maddock, she tapped her pen on her gray legal pad until a feminine voice interrupted her thoughts.

“You look like you could use a drink.” Summer stood behind her with two Good Fortune Potions in hand, cookies perched on the glasses. “Mind if I sit down?”

“You come bearing gifts. How can I refuse?” She nudged the chair opposite hers with the toe of her shoe to push it away from the table. She couldn't be rude even though she had a sneaking suspicion Summer would ask her all those probing, girl-talk sorts of questions Brianne never knew how to answer.

The upside of having worked in a male-dominated field for the last six years was that she could hold her own at the dartboard and the negotiating table. The downside was that she hadn't found the time or inclination to form many female friendships.

And judging from the intimate, personal things women sometimes liked to ask—at least, in Brianne's opinion they were personal, intimate things—she wasn't entirely sure she was ready to form female friendships. But maybe talking to Summer would offer her a distraction until she could get her head together enough to resist the temptation of Aidan tonight.

Summer set the glasses down and took a seat. Her gauzy turquoise dress was handkerchief-cut, with lots of peekaboo layers and a few high slits to show off her thighs. A yellow pendant in the shape of a star hung from her neck. She looked like Stevie Nicks in her
gypsy period, but with a more cartoonish, graphic edge.

Summer had a visual appeal and immediate sense of style that would transfer well to camera. Brianne just wasn't sure how to relate to her in the real world.

“I was trying out a few fabric swatches in the Sweethearts Suite when I spied you out the window a few hours ago,” Summer explained in between sips of her drink. “I was surprised just now when I brought some samples down to Lainie to see you still sitting out here. Is everything okay?”

No. Actually, everything sucked. She'd made a huge mistake by giving in to the raw sexual tug she felt between her and Aidan. Then she'd made things worse by offending him. And now she had to sit next to him all night—again—and pretend everything was business as usual.

Of course, she wasn't about to tell Summer she'd slept with the man who wanted to investigate criminal activity in their club. If they'd written a human resources handbook for on-the-job behavior, sleeping with FBI agents would probably be on the “don't” list.

“I'm sort of grappling with an ancient history issue I have going with Aidan Maddock,” she surprised herself by saying. Of course, she hadn't admitted to having sex with him on top of her desk at closing time. But it was more than she'd intended to say. “I was pretty attracted to him the last time he investigated my ex-stepfather and it's been tripping me up a little bit when I have to sit next to him all night.”

She gulped her drink after what felt like a huge con
fession. She needed fortitude of some kind before she started spilling her whole life history.

Summer failed to look surprised. “I had the feeling there was a romantic issue involved. I saw shades of pink in your aura and that's the impression I had right away.”

Brianne suspected Summer merely had seen her bathed in the glow of the sunset, but she politely said nothing.

“I can run inside and dig out my tarot cards. Maybe there'll be an answer—”

Holding up both hands, she warded away
that
idea. “No, thank you. I think I'm too much of a nonbeliever for that to work.” Too much of a scientific, mechanical mind. She liked to know how and why things added up.

Which was probably why she couldn't seem to get past her attraction to Aidan. It definitely didn't add up.

“Then do you mind if I offer you a little old-fashioned woman to woman advice?” She leaned closer, her yellow star pendant clanging against the table.

What did she have to lose? Brianne nodded.

“Don't fight it so hard. See what happens. Roll with it. That's the whole mentality of South Beach, and I swear you can't be happy in this city until you adopt its mantra as your own. Who needs to be uptight and rigid when you're lounging by the ocean?” She clinked her glass to Brianne's. “Live a little.”

Not exactly the wisdom of the sages, but it resonated for Brianne. Worked for this moment and this problem.
And for some reason, she felt better. Lifting her glass, she drank to the notion. “Thank you. And I'll try.”

In fact, maybe she just needed to turn her attention to new projects and a new direction. Commit herself to staying away from shady, dangerous men who couldn't follow a rule to save their lives.

She gazed out at the boats on the water and realized it was fully dark now. “I just hope I can leave Aidan in the past where he belongs.”

She waited for Summer to say something, and when all remained silent in her friend's chair, Brianne wrenched her gaze from the bobbing lights on the water. Summer stared over Brianne's shoulder toward the club.

Turning, Brianne saw a familiar too-large silhouette standing on the patio that would be converted to a restaurant when the club was running at full steam.

A familiar, muscle-bound silhouette that had invaded her dreams and even now made her pulse pick up speed.

Damn.

“Don't hold your breath, girlfriend,” Summer whispered across the table. “But I don't think that man is interested in your past. Psychic powers are not my cosmic forte but I'm still getting a strong vibe he's interested lock, stock and barrel in your here and now.”

B
Y THE LIGHT OF
a few flickering torches around the patio perimeter, Aidan thought he saw a flash of heat in Brianne's eyes. A second of unadulterated hunger that he recognized because he felt the same damn thing so keenly he hadn't slept more than a couple of hours that morning.

As Brianne straightened her spine and sauntered toward him with a long-stemmed glass in one hand, however, Aidan quickly realized he must have imagined that sizzling flash of connection between them. Brianne had mastered the art of cool detachment in her years as a New Yorker and she was giving him attitude with both guns. Blinking his gritty eyes, Aidan realized lack of sleep was screwing with his perceptions.

Not a good thing for a guy in his field.

He needed to get his mind off Brianne and back on his case. A feat which shouldn't be so freaking hard considering he had new evidence in hand, damn it.

Brianne glided to a stop a few feet away on the patio overlooking the ocean. Her friend—the part-owner with the crazy fashion sense and the off-key soprano— lingered down by the water, stretching her arms toward the stars like some kind of pagan priestess or maybe a yoga instructor. The woman was a trip.

And although Aidan's highly functional male eye recognized the blonde as a beauty, she didn't flick his switch the way Brianne could in her austere gray, ankle-length dress and bare feet.

The woman personified temptation.

She held out her half-full glass in offering—Eve with an apple. “You look like you need this more than me. Rough night, Agent Maddock?”

“I never indulge myself while I'm on the clock, Bri. But talk to me after hours and you can bet I'll be happy to take whatever you have to offer.” If she planned to drive him to the brink of insanity with her in-your-face attitude, Aidan would damn well push a few boundaries, too.

He couldn't tell if he'd managed to rile her or not, however. She simply retracted the glass and took a long swallow of whatever it contained.

Aidan watched as her dark pink lips pursed around the rim of the goblet and she tossed her head back to sip the ruby-colored brew. His throat constricted along with hers as she drank.

And he was suddenly so damn thirsty he couldn't stand it.

She polished off the libation with a satisfied smack of her lips. “It was a one-time offer, Aidan. Guess you'll have to find your indulgences elsewhere tonight.” Flicking open the tiny remote computer she wore strapped to her wrist like an oversized watch, Brianne pushed a few buttons. “I notice you're here early. You're welcome to my office if you'd like to start viewing the monitors, but I don't plan to join you until the club opens at eleven.”

Seizing her hand, Aidan told himself he only touched her because he wanted to check out her latest gadgetry and not because he wanted to see if she still felt hot to the touch even when she operated in ice-queen mode.

“What's this?” He caught sight of a miniature monitor on the display screen before she snagged her wrist back.

And sure enough, her touch had been just as scorching as he'd remembered.

“It's a scaled-down version of the video screens in my office. I can't move the camera angles from here, but I can check out a handful of rooms from a stationary position.”

Impressive. But the fact that she had so much security in place set up a few red flags, too. “You really need that much protection for the club, Bri?”

He didn't suspect her of being Melvin's accomplice. Was he being naive to rule her out when she had the technological skills—and the smarts—to funnel information to her former stepfather?

For a moment, her trademark bravado slipped a notch. And Aidan would have banked his paycheck on the fact that she wanted to confess something. But then she looked away, trailing an idle finger along the cast-iron patio table, and when she met his gaze again, her armor was right back in place.

This time, Aidan was positive it hadn't been his gritty eyes playing tricks on him.

“I'd rather have too much protection than not enough.” She said it with enough vehemence that Aidan believed that much was true. Even the best of liars
couldn't cultivate that kind of passion about something they didn't believe in.

Staring out at the water, Brianne took a deep breath as if to calm herself. “Besides, despite whatever you think about my connection to Mel Baxter, I have my own reasons for not wanting him to sneak past my guard. I don't want him around the club any more than you do.”

“You're wrong there.” He watched as the sea breeze caught a strand of her auburn hair and blew it across her cheek. He had all he could do not to hook his finger around that red lock and smooth it into place. He could almost feel the silky strand between his fingers. “The sooner Mel shows up here, the quicker I can leave you to run your business.”

And the quicker he'd be able to put enough distance between them to assure himself he wouldn't touch her again.

“He's got no reason to come here.” Brianne's brow furrowed, and Aidan had the impression she'd told herself as much more than once. “He has no connection to me or my mother anymore.”

“Not true.” There was no sense hiding his recent discovery from her. He wanted to ask her a few questions about it anyway.

“What do you mean?” Her green eyes narrowed.

“Mel might not be maintaining ties to you, but I'm guessing I've unearthed a very big connection to your mother. Do you know anything about a bank account under the name of Pauline Baxter with a balance of 1.2 million dollars that's been untouched for the last twelve years?”

Her mouth fell open. Wide. He had all the answer he needed.

Her jaw snapped shut as she recovered herself. She cleared her throat, tossed her hair over one shoulder. “My mother doesn't necessarily keep me informed of her financial status. She would have set that account up when I was little more a child.”

Leaning on the wooden rail that surrounded part of the deck overlooking the ocean, Aidan wouldn't quibble with her on that note. Even though she would have been sixteen at the time, and by the age of eighteen, Brianne couldn't tell him often enough that she was all woman.

Not that his memories of Brianne's precocious sensuality had any bearing on his case.

“Do you have any reason to believe that money might not really belong to your mother?” He didn't necessarily expect her to be straight with him. She didn't trust him any more than he trusted her. But he asked her so he could gauge her reactions. And maybe solicit help in talking to her mother. “Because if it's an account Mel set up for himself in her name I can guarantee you he'll be back for it.”

He almost felt guilty when she paled.

No, damn it. He
did
feel guilty when she paled.

“I'm sure my mother would have had to sign paperwork to set up an account. Show her license or something. Can't you investigate that kind of thing?” She didn't bite her lip, but Aidan could tell she wanted to. She was worried about her mother and trying like hell not to let him know.

“Bankers are pretty tight with their records unless
you push them to the wall. And there's a chance if we do that, word will get back to Mel that we're aware of the account. I'd rather talk to your mother about it first before we set off any warning signals like that. For all I know, I could be barking up the wrong tree.” But he wasn't. He sensed it in his gut earlier today when he'd first struck pay dirt, and he sensed it even more strongly now as he picked up panicked vibes from Brianne.

That account didn't belong to Pauline Wolcott-Baxter-and etc. It belonged to Melvin Baxter and he'd be coming back for it.

All Aidan had to do was sit back and wait.

“You think it will help to talk to my mom?” Brianne wasn't even looking at him. The sea-scented breeze drifted by her, lifting strands of red hair to flutter around her neck. She stared down into her glass as she twirled the stem of the empty goblet in her hand— round and round in one direction. Round and round in the other.

“I think we'll find Melvin a hell of a lot faster if we do.” He waited and watched her as nightlife took over the beach behind the resort. Couples strolled the sand in the moonlight while at a neighboring hotel, a few partiers sat around a bonfire and sang too loudly. Waves rolled over the shore in the background, the soft lull nearly lost in the steady growl of traffic from Ocean Drive.

He willed her to say yes. Needed her to agree.

Her cooperation was important to his case, but it was suddenly even more important to him personally and he wasn't quite sure why.

“I want to go with you when you talk to her.” She quit twirling her glass and looked him in the eye.

Brianne had cooperated, but she was already issuing demands. Surprise, surprise.

Luckily, it just so happened he wanted her there with him anyway. Melvin's ex-wife might be more forthcoming with him if her daughter was around.

“Fine. But I can't afford to wait on this.” How many more nights could he sit at the club shoulder-to-shoulder with Brianne before he forgot all about being a minor setback in her life and used any seductive means necessary to coerce her into another desktop encounter?

“It's a little late to show up on her doorstep tonight, don't you think?” She checked her computer screen again, making Aidan realize they'd been talking longer than he'd planned.

And making his agent instincts sit up and take notice again. Was she that committed to her job, or did Brianne have reason to watch her back?

Aidan made a mental note to find out. If she was hiding something that had any bearing on his case, he had no choice but to unearth it. And if she watched her back so thoroughly because she was scared of something—or someone—he'd pull every string at his disposal to make it disappear. “Tomorrow is soon enough. How about I pick you up at noon?”

Flipping shut the tiny door that covered her wristwatch computer gadget, Brianne nodded. “You're on. Let's head inside and I'll write my address down for you.” She took a few steps and then stopped. Pivoted.
Stared him down. “Then again, you probably already know where I live, don't you?”

“They don't hand out the badges to any sucker on the street, Bri. I did learn a thing or two about investigative work to get where I am today.” He refused to apologize for doing his job well. If she didn't like the lack of privacy, that was her problem.

“I just hope you remember who it is you're investigating.” She whirled around to continue on her way to her office, ankle-length skirt churning around her feet with her purposeful walk.

Aidan followed the path of those sexy bare feet, telling himself he knew exactly who he was after in this case.

And he had Brianne in his sights for a different reason entirely.

 

B
RIANNE WAS NOT HAPPY
to wake up alone the next morning.

She'd been a good girl and followed sound logic in staying away from Aidan the night before. In an effort to put some distance between them, she'd found every reason in the world to venture into the club to monitor activity with her own eyes while leaving Aidan in her office. She couldn't be next to him for two minutes without wanting him and she couldn't be next to him for five minutes without a restless ache creeping up her thighs and making her so edgy she couldn't sit still.

So she'd spent most of the night roaming the corridors of Club Paradise and feeling Aidan's eyes on her from the other side of the video cameras around every corner.

Now, rubbing her eyes shortly before noon in her oversize sleigh bed—the only piece of furniture she owned that wasn't sleekly modern—she wondered what had ever made her decide to be a good girl in regard to Aidan. Being bad was so much more rewarding, damn it. Her shower was frustrating because she wanted Aidan's hands on her wet body. Her orange juice annoyed her because she wanted to taste Aidan's lips.

She paced the espresso-colored carpet of the small contemporary house she was renting in Palm Beach, searching for a distraction and thinking she'd have to retrieve a few more of her gadgets from storage now that she was pretty well moved in. She had her programmable menu on her refrigerator, and the house came with a nifty chandelier-lowering switch for the huge light fixture in the hallway, but other than that, she had nothing to play with in her spare time.

Her restless, keyed-up and horny-as-hell spare time.

Damn Aidan Maddock for giving her way too much sensual material for her fantasies.

Flicking the shiny chrome chandelier up and down, Brianne decided she should make a master remote for the house so she could control everything from her wrist computer. And she also needed to beef up her security systems. Her experience with a boyfriend gone rogue in New York had taught her the value of efficient security. Now, she stared up at the clock and wondered why she'd agreed to spend her one and only night off in Aidan's company. The club was closed Mondays, yet she would be with him again today for who knows how long.

Spying a leather portfolio on the bench beside her front door, Brianne remembered Summer asking her to look at the new design plan for the revamped Sweethearts Suite. Seizing upon something—anything—to take her mind off steamy thoughts of Aidan, Brianne cracked open the buttery black case and dropped on to the bench seat to have a look at what Summer had come up with.

Burgundy velvet spilled out on to her lap, followed by a long swatch of deep red satin and a thick strip of black silk. The portfolio was stuffed full with pictures torn from catalogs and sketches Summer had made. At the top of the left-hand page, she'd scrawled Bad-Girl Bordello and had roughed out a drawing of the proposed room.

The burgundy velvet would drape the bed. The dark red satin would be shirred and gathered on the walls. Black silk would trim the bed drapes, the lampshades and the bed skirt. The room would be wildly decadent and immediately sensual.