Nicki waited, trying to decipher his facial expressions. No luck. Given Mark's success as a dancer, she expected he would protest. Surely he would. All the money, all the women, even if he didn't care for attention, had to be a lure.
Rather than spewing an expletive, Mark merely cocked his head. "Really?"
"I need a dancer, and I know that's why I hired you. But I also need an accountant."
"Do you?" he leaned in.
His expression changed and seemed ... almost pleased. What was that about?
"My books ... I'm pretty sure they're messed up. I can't do them myself. I've never been stellar at math, and I'm not too fond of the computer, much less the software Marcy picked for the accounting."
"What about Bocelli?"
"I've been thinking that you're right about Blade not being qualified to keep my finances. You are. I also need someone I can trust."
Someone who could find out if there was a reason her uncle was so insistent that Blade and no one else do those books.
"And that's me?"
"Yes. You've always been honest with me ... even when I wished you weren't." She sighed. "I know you're here for the money, and that Sunday night must have been killer in the revenue department. I can offer to let you live in your apartment for free, but I can't afford to pay you a lot. Marcy only worked part time, so I don't think it will eat up all your days."
"Besides free rent, what's in it for me?"
Damn it, she knew he was going to ask that question. In his place, she would have.
"Well, not having to be the center of attention onstage again, assuming it still bothers you." Dredging up her courage, Nicki looked right into those hazel eyes that never failed to make her melt. "And me."
Mark leaned in closer, narrow-eyed and intently focused on her. "Did I hear you right?"
"I'm yours, if you still want me. You told me not to lie to myself, so I'm not. Like you said, we have great sex. If you're after more money, the best I can offer you is to let you wait tables and keep your tips."
"Forget the tables." With a dig of his heels into the tile floor, he rolled his chair across the room, closing the little bit of distance between them. "Are you offering me unlimited access to your body?"
Desire darkened his expression, and her heartbeat revved up accordingly. God, she hoped this wasn't a mistake. But she wanted him. Bad. Lucia was right. Hell, so was Mark for that matter. Trying to ignore what has happening between them wasn't getting her anywhere. Yes, Mark was an employee--but a temporary one, most likely. The truth was, all her rhetoric about not being distracted was crap. It was her heart she feared for, deep down in places she didn't want to admit.
But the kind of chemistry they shared was totally new, felt strong enough to launch her into space, seemed deep enough to wet the vast desert they lived in. As her sister had so kindly pointed out, trying to deny how badly she wanted to explore this ... thing between her and Mark just wasn't working.
Time for a new approach.
So for now, the best Nicki could do was shove aside the fact he could break her heart. She'd do her best to stay strong, not fall totally in love with him. Maybe she'd care just a little. And if she failed at that ... well, she'd worry about her broken heart later.
"I'm yours anytime, anywhere, any way. Yes," she said finally.
The room fell so silent, she could have heard the smallest intake of breath.
Nicki could see instantly from his heated expression and the bulge in his jeans that the idea intrigued him. Thank goodness. Every day without Mark made her feel like an addict going through withdrawal.
"Why? Last I heard, you were too busy to be distracted by me. You wanted to leave it at a one-night stand ... that happened twice. I haven't always been great to you afterward."
"No, you haven't," she admitted softly. "But I realized when I saw you perform Sunday that I was so busy trying not to be distracted by you and denying myself that I was actually wasting more time and mental energy than if I just went with it. When I'm with you, I just feel ... revved up. Connected to you. Trying to pretend that's not true is a waste of energy."
Slowly, he stroked that square chin of his and studied her with steady eyes. "I don't do commitment, Nicki. If you're looking for--"
"I don't, either. Maybe this is a one-month stand, you know? I'm not quite done with you yet, but I don't have any forever sort of expectations."
"If I say yes, I'd have the right to do this?"
Before Nicki could brace herself, Mark dragged her onto his lap, positioning her so that her legs straddled his thighs and the arms of the office chair. No question he was aroused. For the first time ever, they were eye to eye, and he used the opportunity to claim her mouth in a kiss that completely devastated her senses in two point two seconds. With a nip to her bottom lip, he cajoled admission, then swept inside for a gentle, methodical tasting. The tip of his tongue brushed behind her upper lip, loved hers in a slow circle, then dragged along the roof of her mouth. She tingled everywhere, as if she'd popped a whole box of cinnamon red-hots on her tongue at once.
That quickly, Nicki arched into Mark and clasped her arms around his neck. Grateful and somehow more centered now that he was with her, touching her, she buried her fingers in the golden silk of his hair. He was hard everywhere, chest, abs, shoulders, cock--but his hair was so touchably soft, she moaned.
His thumb brushed across one pebbled nipple, shooting darts of pleasure all over her body. But before she could encourage him more, Mark eased away.
"Is that a yes?" she asked once she managed to find her voice again.
"Most definitely." Mark smiled, his grin so brilliant and bright, it could nearly compete with the summer sun.
Nicki gasped. Of all the things she imagined he would say in response to her question, she'd anticipated that one the least.
"Seriously?"
Mark nodded. "Trust me. I'd rather be your accountant any day, and have these fringe benefits, than to prance half-naked on a blindingly lit stage for a bunch of strangers."
"Even though you'd make more money dancing?"
And have throngs of women falling at your feet?
"Yep."
Shocking.
"That's good. Great! But ... I do have one request."
"Oh?"
The sharp syllable almost took her aback. It sounded almost suspicious.
"Nothing big. I just don't think it's a good idea if the others know we're, um, involved."
"The others? Your sister? Zack?"
"Lucia knows." She could feel the flush climbing up her neck and cheeks. "But the other dancers... and employees. It's probably not a good idea."
"You mean Bocelli."
His hard-eyed glare made Nicki wince. "Telling him only makes my life very complicated."
Everything she did went straight to her uncle through Blade. Who needed the headache, the browbeating about the shame of not being a good Italian virgin?
With a shrug, Mark said, "All right. I won't tell the people around here. Hadn't planned on it, anyway."
"Thank you."
Relief wound through her that she'd managed to convince him, both to have a fling with her and keep it to themselves. Maybe by tonight he'd be all hers--at least for the duration of their great affair.
Today, she would not worry about later--which she usually did quite well--and wonder if it would hurt when her books were in order and Mark chose to leave. She could only think about now, focus on the pleasure he would give her, the temporary right she had to touch him.
And she'd have to guard her heart. No matter how tempting Mark was, how smooth his words, how apparently sincere his eyes, how deep the adoration in his voice, she could not fall for him.
That would be a bad, bad move.
"
S
o she asked you to be her accountant, huh? You must have really sucked as an exotic dancer." Rafe laughed his way through the comment.
"I couldn't have been too bad. I made twenty-five hundred dollars in tips in four hours."
Rafe stopped laughing. "Are you serious?"
"As a heart attack. Shocking, isn't it?"
Mark wrinkled his nose as he looked out his apartment window at the morning sun beating down on the club's parking lot. Today would be a scorcher in Vegas, and it was only the first of June.
"Holy shit. I'm in the wrong profession."
"No. The last thing I want to see is you without clothes."
"Your sister likes it." Rafe shot back. "When she's not big and pregnant and complaining about having Beeky-Ticks or Braxton-Licks--some sort of contractions."
Mark frowned. "She okay?"
"These are normal. Just a little early, I guess."
Mark could hear his concern and tried to distract him. "Well, you without clothes is just a mental picture I don't need!" He laughed. "Seriously, the night I danced, the whole scene was insane. I collected twenty-eight phone numbers. I lost count of the number of propositions after an hour or so."
"Wow, that kind of job could keep you up to your eyeballs in horny women. There are worse things for you, my friend. Take anyone up on their offer?"
Being propositioned should have been like a fantasy ... but it had left him cold. Instead, he seemed stuck, fixated, on Nicki. Since when did a healthy, single heterosexual man lose interest in most of the opposite sex?
Damn it, he needed to solve this investigation before he lost sight of his reason for being here.
"No."
"What's up with that? Since your divorce, you haven't been the type to stay at home on a Saturday night."
"It's Nicki." Mark signed into his cell phone. "I just can't figure it out, man. One minute Nicki is distracting me away from her books and won't give me the time of day. The next, she's asking me to be her accountant, promising me free rent--and get this--bribing me with a fling."
Rafe whistled. "Are you for real? She asked you to make getting down and dirty a regular thing?"
"A temporary regular thing, but yeah. I'm not sure what's going on with her. Whatever it is, I worry it's not legal."
"But if she's up to something she could do hard time for, why would she show you the books? Why not hide them?"
"I don't know. Unless she thinks she's going to sweet talk me into doing her dirty work for her, setting me up to be the fall guy, or planning to use me as some sort of alibi. I'm baffled."
"It's looking pretty odd."
"And feeling that way. The kicker to all of this is she asked me not to tell anyone about our fling. What she really meant, I think, is that she didn't want me telling Bocelli. Why would it matter unless they were a regular item, both personally and criminally, and she was stepping out on him in both ways?"
That thought was like a machete to the gut. Not only was she tied up with a thug, but also cheating him while cheating on him. It didn't seem like the Nicki he knew, who was usually straightforward, not manipulative and sneaky. But then, he knew firsthand that when someone wanted to hide their true nature, they usually could--at least for a while.
"Good question," Rafe conceded. "I have another one: Why doesn't she do her own books? As you say, she's not a stupid woman."
"According to Nicki, she's lousy with both math and computers."
"Do you buy that?"
He'd bought a similar excuse with Tiffany, and it nearly landed him in Leavenworth.
"It's possible, I suppose. She's got a relatively new computer in her office, near her former accountant's, and I've never seen her turn it on. But her sudden change of heart raises red flags. The last time we talked about her books, she refused to hear that Bocelli wasn't competent. Now she's telling me that she doesn't think he's capable. As if this is news to me?"
"Any chance she's just now seeing the truth about the thug? Maybe the fact she invited you to her place when the money transfers were going on was just one of those weird things."
"It's not impossible, but what are the odds? If she was getting a clue about Blade, why not just cut him loose altogether and tell him to take a hike? It seems more likely to me that she's trying to cut Bocelli out of the action and keep whatever profit they've been making for herself."
"What are you going to do?" Rafe asked.
"I already said yes. What else can I do? I'm here to get into Nicki's books and figure out what's up, find the source of the illegal shit going on around here, and see that it stops."
Yes, he'd had to agree to her proposition in order to stay close, earn her trust, so he could dissect Nicki's accounting records and find the truth. But he couldn't deny that he'd also agreed because it allowed him to touch her whenever and however he wanted. The thought was dizzying--and dangerous. He was aware that it wasn't terribly ethical, but couldn't bring himself to care.
Rafe hesitated. "Mark, I know Tiffany messed you up. I--"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Too bad. I'm just reminding you, watch yourself with this woman."
Mark tensed. "What does that mean?"
"How do you feel about Nicki?"
"I don't feel anything." Mark squeezed his cell phone in a death grip.
"Bullshit. I know you too well, and it's not like you to lie to me, much less yourself. There's something in your voice, man. You care about her."
So much so that he'd apparently babbled that he loved her in the heat of passion.
He sighed. "It's one of my flaws. If there's a very bad woman up within fifty miles, I'll get really hung up on her. I'm such a fucking schmuk."
"Not necessarily. She might not be guilty of anything more than having crappy timing and changing her mind about wanting to be with you. Don't assume she's Tiffany revisited. What if you just asked Nicki some of these questions?"