Her gaze darted up to his, her eyes so beautiful she took his breath away. The wariness in them intrigued him.
“You’re welcome. I enjoyed it.”
He wanted to stay, to kiss those incredibly kissable lips of hers. He wanted to convince her, to make her change her mind. But he didn’t. He wasn’t stupid. He turned away and walked to the elevator, pressed the button and, without a word, let himself out the door.
He wasn’t about to give up though. Mike had glimpsed something in Grace’s eyes—fear. Something about him scared her, and maybe that was a bad thing. But maybe that was a good thing, because he hadn’t actually done anything to frighten her. If her fear was because she felt something between them, then that was definitely a good thing.
Still, it rankled that she’d hustled him out the door. He was always the one who ended things with a woman. Okay, he had a little finesse. He didn’t intentionally set out to hurt a woman’s feelings, and typically he let them know from the start that he had no desire for a relationship beyond one night or two, that he wasn’t a settling down kind of guy. And if they didn’t buy into it, if a woman thought she would change him or could prolong the attachment longer than he was interested in, then they got dumped in a hurry and he did it in a cold and heartless way. Because he was honest and there was no sense dragging out the inevitable.
Is that what Grace was doing? Cutting things off clean and quick so she didn’t hurt his feelings? Making sure she didn’t lead him on?
It felt shitty. Hell of a time for a rousing case of gut-wrenching empathy for all the women he’d done the same thing to.
Nevertheless, he knew the difference between someone who wasn’t interested and someone who was.
Grace was interested. There was fire between them. Fire enough to give it one more shot, anyway. He wasn’t a dumbass and he sure as hell wasn’t a stalker. If she balked again and showed him the door, if she sent out clear signals that there was no chemistry between them, then he’d grab a clue and hightail it out of there.
But until then, he wasn’t about to give up. Not when there was something he wanted.
And what he wanted was Grace.
So he needed a plan. And that meant he wasn’t going to go back to the club tonight. He didn’t want Grace to feel pressured. He’d wait until tomorrow night.
Mike returned to his hotel and made a few business calls, did some paperwork, then called Denver. He spent the afternoon and into the night hanging out with Denver at one of the casinos, losing more money at gambling than he really wanted to. But he wasn’t focused, his thoughts centered more on Grace than on the cards in front of him.
“You’re usually better at this,” Den said when Mike lost yet another hand at blackjack. “In fact, you’re typically pretty damn good. Right now you suck donkey dick.”
Mike pushed back from the table and Den followed him to the bar. “Not my lucky day, I guess.” He hoped his run of bad luck didn’t continue, and he didn’t mean at cards.
When the waitress brought them drinks, Den took a long swallow and squinted. “You went to Wild Nights last night. How did that go?”
“Good.” Mike downed his whiskey in two short gulps and signaled the waitress for another.
“Good. That’s all you’re going to tell me? Details, man,” Den said, laughing. “I need more than that.”
Mike stared into his empty glass. “Nothing much to tell, really.”
“You didn’t.”
Mike looked up. “Didn’t what?”
“Last night. At the club. You fucked Grace, didn’t you?”
He shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Don’t give me that coy shit. That’s something a woman would say. Tell me.”
“I said I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Christ, Mike, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
What the fuck
was
wrong with him? He and Denver had shared more than just talk about women. They’d shared women. And Mike never cared before whether he kissed and told. So why was he being so close-lipped about Grace?
He laid his head in his hands. “I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me.”
“PMS?” Den offered.
Mike snorted. “Funny.”
“She got to you, didn’t she?”
He thought about denial. He was the poster boy for denial, he was so good at it. But maybe it was time to stop running from emotions. Maybe that’s why he was so dissatisfied with his life. “Yeah, she got to me.”
“Did you fuck her?”
“No. I made love to her.”
“Jesus Christ. It’s even worse than I thought.”
He smiled and raised his head, looked at Den. “She’s something special.”
“She’s just another pussy, Mike.”
Had he ever been that much of an asshole? Yeah, he had. He’d never cared before. Women had meant nothing to him but a good
fuck. He couldn’t be mad at Den for acting like Den—hell, for saying the same thing he might have said yesterday. One night with Grace and suddenly he’d developed a conscience. Why?
“She just felt different to me.”
Den shrugged. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. They all feel the same to me.”
“I can’t explain it.”
“And how does Grace feel about all this?”
Mike allowed a half smile as the waitress brought their drinks. He stared at the amber liquid. “She pretty much tossed me out on my ass as soon as daylight hit.”
Den let out a loud laugh. “Payback is hell, isn’t it, buddy?”
Mike nodded, then arched his brow. “Fuck you. Your day will come.”
Den downed his drink, then slammed it on the table and signaled the waitress. He winked at Mike. “To end up like you? Mooning over a woman like a lovesick cow? I think I’d rather hang up my dick.”
Mike snorted. “Famous last words.”
Leaning back and grabbing a handful of peanuts, Den asked, “So now that she’s given you the boot, what’s the plan?” He popped the peanuts into his mouth.
“I’ll go back tomorrow, feel her out.”
“Want me to come?”
Mike shrugged. “That’s up to you.”
“I’ve been going to Wild Nights for a couple years now. I know Grace pretty well. Maybe I can help.”
Reinforcements couldn’t hurt. Then again, maybe it would. At this point he really didn’t know how this was going to play out, but he was willing to use any means necessary to get another chance to explore his relationship with Grace.
Relationship. A foreign, typically unwelcome word in his vocabulary. He almost laughed out loud.
Goddamn, his perspective sure had changed a lot in the past twenty-four hours.
* * *
There was no doubt about it. Grace was pissed. The
emotion shocked her so much she almost laughed out loud. But since she was knee-deep in clients at the moment, that wasn’t a good idea.
She had no right to be upset. She’d gotten exactly what she wanted. Though she hadn’t come right out and said the words, she’d pretty much delivered Mike an A-number-one, obvious-as-hell brush-off this morning. She’d turned down his offers of breakfast, lunch and dinner, and all but shoved him into the elevator with her foot on his ass.
Could she have been more rude? The cold chill of fear had turned her into an icy bitch, and her normal manners had flown right out the window. She’d been abrupt and ill-mannered and she’d spent the entire day feeling awful about how she’d treated him. He’d shown her a wonderful time last night and he hadn’t deserved her behavior.
Maybe that’s why she was kind of hoping she’d see him tonight. It was better that he hadn’t come, though. He’d gotten the message, and there was no reason to prolong the inevitable. They had no future together. She had her business, which was her only goal for the future. Her plans didn’t include a man. Relationships were too messy, too unpredictable.
She really had no business feeling disappointed that he hadn’t shown up tonight. Yet, it was nearing midnight and she realized she’d actually expected him to show up. If that wasn’t the ultimate in ego deflation, she didn’t know what was.
Well, fine. This was better. And exactly what she wanted, and needed. No entanglements, no attachments, no emotional feelings for men she’d fucked.
“How ’bout it Grace? Is tonight our night?”
She lifted her gaze to Wayne Malone, one of the most attractive men she knew. Wicked smart and a self-made millionaire by the time he’d hit thirty, Wayne had been after her for over a year now. And she’d led him on one hell of a wild ride, enjoying the game of chase and not-quite-catch. She figured Wayne enjoyed it, too, which was why he kept coming back and spending all his wonderful money at her club.
“Not tonight, Wayne,” she purred, tipping her fingernail under his chin and pressing a light kiss to his lips. “I have a headache.”
He laughed, as if he’d already known her answer. He caressed her cheek. “Some other time, maybe.”
“Maybe.” But they both knew it was never going to happen. It rarely happened with her clientele. Her regulars were aware of how picky she was about fucking her clients. And the newcomers figured it out pretty fast.
But it had happened last night, hadn’t it? She’d been so goddamn easy she was surprised Mike hadn’t left fifty bucks on her nightstand. She’d spread her legs and whimpered and begged and damn near shouted out that she loved him. Then she’d come. And come. And come some more.
Her nipples hardened against her halter, her pussy clenching. But she felt empty.
It was ironic. Wild Nights was filled to capacity; there was a crowd outside waiting to get in. And Grace was lonely. Because the one man she wished had come tonight wasn’t here.
Wild Nights was packed as usual the next evening.
Grace was insanely busy, but still found herself often hovering near the front door. Mike wasn’t coming. She might as well cast him from her thoughts and her life. It was over.
“Looking for someone?”
Grace turned at the familiar deep voice behind her. “Denver!” She hugged and kissed him, allowing him to pull her into his embrace. Denver was one of the few men she genuinely liked and trusted. A regular for a couple years, he was charming, sexy and wickedly dangerous to a woman’s libido. She’d never had sex with him and he’d never hit on her. His casually charming demeanor made him easy to be around.
And, as she recalled, Denver was the one who’d garnered the invitation for Mike. Not that she was going to ask about him. Not at all.
“It’s so nice to see you here. Are you alone tonight?” Damn. She just couldn’t let it go, could she?
“I’m always alone, gorgeous. Why? Are you wanting company?” He arched dark brows above chocolate brown eyes that would melt any woman’s panties right off. His sharp, angular features belonged on the cover of a fashion magazine, his lean, chiseled body encased in jeans and a tight T-shirt that showed off time well spent in the gym.
“Are you offering?” she shot back with a wink.
“I might be.”
That would be a first. Though she wasn’t at all interested. And Denver was an incredibly appealing man. But her thoughts were centered on one man alone.
“Hey, Den.”
The one who’d just stepped up and spoken. The one who stole her breath with midnight black hair and blue eyes. The one smiling down at her.
“Grace.”
She felt like a teenager, with sweaty palms and a racing pulse. “Mike. How nice to see you again.”
Ugh. Too formal. She relaxed her shoulders and tried for a smile. He was just a client tonight. Nothing more.
Right. Tell that to her pussy, which was throbbing and moistening and quivering with happiness.
Down girl.
Mike was off-limits.
“Nice to see you, too, Grace. The club is really full tonight. I practically had to offer up a limb to get in.”
She laughed. “It’s Friday night. Always one of our busiest.”
“Glad I managed to pass the test, then.”
She didn’t mention she’d put him on the accept list. “I hope you enjoy your evening.”
He nodded. “I intend to. Thanks.”
“How about we head to the bar for a drink?” Denver asked Mike.
“Sounds good.”
“There are some beautiful women here tonight. I’ll introduce you.”
“Talk to you later, Grace,” Mike said, then wandered off with Denver. She turned and headed in the opposite direction. Danced a bit. Mingled a little, all the while keeping one eye turned toward Mike and Denver. It wasn’t long before there was a throng of women crowded around the bar, fighting for their attention.
Grace would not—absolutely would not—be jealous. Her stomach was twisted in knots because…because…cocktail napkin inventory was low and they might run out.
Oh, sure. Because Wild Nights would go up in a ball of flames if they ran out of cocktail napkins tonight. Which they weren’t even close to doing, anyway.
Disgusted, she left the bar and moved to the playrooms, checking on her clients and making sure everyone was having fun. Nearly every room was full, the sounds of sex and laughter everywhere. She stepped into a couple of the rooms, hoping to immerse herself in watching some of the action and get her mind off Mike.
A woman was chained facing the wall in the bondage room, a man lightly whipping her with a leather flogger. The woman moaned in equal parts pain and pleasure as the man first spanked, then slid his hands between her legs to cup and tease her pussy. In the orgy room, things were in full swing, the tangle of body parts hard to decipher as mouths met cocks and pussys and hands grabbed for the nearest sex organ. People were laughing and moaning and having a wonderful time. The musky smell of sex permeated the air around her. She sighed and moved on. There were no problems for her to attend to. As was typical, Wild Nights ran like a smoothly oiled machine.
With every step down the hallway, Grace grew more and more annoyed.
And curious about what was happening in the bar. Were Mike and Denver still there, or maybe on the dance floor with some of the ladies who’d been hovering around them? Or maybe, on their way to one of the playrooms with a few of the women.
Goddamit! How dare he make her think of him. She did not care what the hell Mike Nottingham did. She never should have put his name on the list. In fact, she should have barred him from the club. Then she would have been able to relax and enjoy her evening.