My Sinful Nights: Book One in the Sinful Men Series

by Blakely, Lauren

  “Great to meet you, Shay.”

  I blinked, surprised he went so quickly to my new name, but grateful too. I gave him my best professional smile. “Good to meet you. I wasn’t expecting you to be here tonight. But it’s a delight.” Delight, my ass.

  “I wasn’t expecting you either,” he said meaningfully, and James shot Brent a strange look as if to say, Of course you were.

  When Brent shook my hand, a million things zipped through my body. Memories, feelings, promises. He never once took his deep brown eyes off mine as our fingers met. I drew a breath and wished I didn’t feel a slight charge in my body from the way his gaze held mine. How could my body betray my heart like this?

  “Hi there,” he mouthed quietly.

  I said nothing as a fluttery sensation spread through me with every breath. For a second, maybe more, we were the only ones there. We lingered on this connection, and the handshake went on longer than it should have. Longer than it should have with a man who broke my heart.

  Who broke my trust.

  There.

  That was the reminder.

  I let go of his hand like it was on fire.

  James tilted his head to the side and gestured from Brent to me, curiosity etched in his eyes. “Brent, you’ve been holding out on me. Do you two know each other?”

  Worry gripped me instantly, breaking the moment. Would Brent feel tricked or hoodwinked that I was the face behind Shay Productions? I gulped and parted my lips to answer.

  But Brent jumped first. “We both went to school in Boston, I believe. Isn’t that right, Shay?”

  “Yes,” I squeaked, breathing easier. He seemed to be guiding the awkwardness out of the way so neither one of us had to admit how we’d known each other—or how well.

  “Yes. I went to the Boston Conservatory,” I said, shrugging off my silvery wrap.

  “And I was at Boston College. We had friends in common, didn’t we, Shay?” he asked with a slight smile, keeping it casual, making it easy for me.

  Maybe because he wanted this business deal.

  That had to be it.

  He was skirting over the past to win a negotiation.

  Fine by me. Our past didn’t need to play into this partnership, no matter how genuine he’d seemed when he asked how I was.

  “We did. It’s good to see you again,” I said. I hardly knew if that was the truth or a lie.

  His eyes never strayed from me, and he lowered his voice, speaking in the barest whisper. “Is it?”

  My chest rose and fell, and I didn’t know how to answer. How was it possible to be attracted to someone who broke you? Seeing him again stirred up so many memories, not only of the way we fell apart, but of the way I’d leaned on him so much in college, and how he’d been there for me every time. He’d been my rock.

  He’d held my hand through all those devastating letters.

  Every damn one of them.

  I glanced down, adjusted my skirt, and reached for a glass of ice water, the cubes hitting my teeth as I knocked back half the liquid.

  “Yes, what a small world.”

  “Let’s get down to business, then,” James said, and for a while, Colin and James did most of the talking while Brent leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, and raked his eyes over me.

  What was that about?

  What right did he have to stare at me the way he used to, given what he’d done in Los Angeles with the Dimpled One? And where was she now? Was she back at his place, longing for him as I’d done?

  If so, he was the same guy. Because while she waited, he was undressing me again, drinking me in, cataloging my hair, considering my bare shoulders, roaming his eyes over my breasts, landing on my legs.

  Once a cheater, always a cheater.

  Hurt crashed into me, tearing through my body.

  I had to collect myself. Standing, I grabbed my purse. “Excuse me, gentlemen. I need to powder my nose.”

  I walked past the hostess stand and around the corner, trying to calm my quickening pulse with steady, measured breaths. I grabbed the handle of the ladies’ room door, when a hand came down on my shoulder.

  I whirled around, coming face-to-face in the darkened hallway with the man I’d once planned to marry.

  “Shannon.” My name sounded rough on his lips.

  “Brent.” I did my best to keep my tone cool.

  “How are you?” he asked again, his eyes locked on mine.

  After all those years, after all the pain, that was what he asked? How the hell I was? That was what he wanted us to be? Two adults practicing benign civility outside the ladies’ room?

  I’d always imagined if I saw him again that I’d give him a piece of my mind. That I’d unload all the awful truths. That I’d tell him I caught him. Never had I thought we’d talk like this. Like we meant nothing to each other.

  “I’m fine.” It was better this way. Better to be able to stand near him and manage the basics. Even though the basics were stretching me thin.

  “You mean it? You’re fine? You’re doing okay?” He sounded genuinely concerned. How did he manage this double act?

  “I’m great.” I was, for all intents and purposes. And what else was I going to say?

  He stepped closer. I retreated against the wall, pulse pounding viciously.

  “I can’t believe it’s you. James told me he was talking to Shay. I’ve heard of your shows. But I never knew you were Shay Sloan. I guess that makes me a world-class idiot. But then, I think we both know I’m a world-class idiot.”

  I sighed, my heart heavy at his words. Was that his way of apologizing for straying? We were long past apologies. There was no sorry for what he’d done. Maybe civility was best. But, given all our history, was this deal even worth it? “Is this a problem? Is it better if we step aside so you can find another company to work with?”

  “Better?” he asked, as if my question didn’t compute.

  “Yes, would you prefer to work with another dance company?” I asked.

  He didn’t answer immediately. His eyes were still locked on me. I wanted desperately to look away. Instead, I noticed every detail. The way he swallowed. The line of his jaw. The intensity in his gaze.

  The tension that radiated from him.

  My nerves were frayed thin from the battle inside, from the tug-of-war waged between heart and body. I was comprised of two opposing desires. Something soft and needy and desperate in me wanted to throw my arms around him and ask how he’d been and where the years had gone. Something hard and angry and bitter wanted to lift a knee and kick him right in the balls, then slam my fists into his chest and tell him how everything had hurt so goddamn much when he’d stopped fighting for me.

  And for our baby.

  The baby he didn’t know about.

  The baby I lost the morning after I went home to Vegas.

  Finally, he answered my question. “No, it’s not a problem. I want the best for my business. James tells me you’re the best.”

  My business.

  Everything was about work back then, or so he’d said. Try again in a year. What? After he got Dimples out of his system?

  But was it ever work for him? Or was it Dimples? Were all those late nights at his show a lie? Were they all spent with that woman?

  Everything inside me snapped. That tight line of tension was severed. Like when a tightrope is chopped in half and the acrobat tumbles wildly to the ring. I let loose. “Doesn’t matter whether you’re in comedy or clubs. Glad to see it’s still business first,” I said harshly, wanting to slice him with words.

  I pushed hard on the ladies’ room door. But his hand wrapped around my wrist, and he yanked me back, spinning me in one quick move, so I was chest to chest with him. His breath ghosted across the skin of my neck.

  “That’s not fair,” he said.

  I fumed.

  What gave him the right to say what was fair? Not in love, and not in life. There was no such thing as fair. “You want to talk about fair? Go ahead. Tr
y me. I’ll tell you what’s not fair. I’ve got a long list of what’s not fair, and it starts with a body in a driveway and keeps on going all the way to a prison in Hawthorne,” I said, but before I could say more, he reached for me, wrapping his arms around me, and this time, his touch wasn’t sexual. It wasn’t lustful. It was an embrace from someone who knew nearly everything about me, and my throat clogged with emotions.

  “Are you safe?” he asked in a whisper into my hair. “I’m so sorry. I’m still so sorry about everything that happened to your family. I’m so damn sorry.”

  A tear had the audacity to slide down my cheek and fall onto his shoulder. It was a Pavlovian reaction. Too many tears had fallen on that shoulder. “Is anyone threatening you? Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” I said quietly, with a nod, wishing his arms didn’t feel so good, so true. “I am. It’s fine. It’s all fine.”

  He pulled back, tucked a hand under my chin, and lifted my face. I was so close to him I could trace the outline of his jaw, could run the pad of my finger over his stubble, his unbearably sexy eight-o’clock shadow.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, so much tenderness and worry in his tone.

  How was he the man who’d cheated? Right now, he was stitched with genuine concern.

  And I was so damn confused. He made all the sense in the world to me, and he made zero sense at the same time.

  I gathered myself, and willed that obstinate organ in my chest to stop beating at double time. I ordered my traitorous body to cease trembling just from being near him. “Yes. I’m sure.”

  He let go and tipped his forehead back to the bar. “I should get out there. They’ll start wondering. See you in a few.”

  And he walked away.

  He was always good at walking away.

  My head hurt, and I couldn’t grasp the situation at all.

  I pushed open the ladies’ room door, walked to the sink, dropped my hands onto the cool tile, and let out the longest, hardest breath. I hoped to hell this was the only time I’d have to deal with Brent Nichols.

  When I was near him like that, I couldn’t think straight. I could only feel. And I felt too many emotions. Too many emotions that were far too dangerous for my heart.

  There were no two ways about it—I had to leave, and I had to leave right then.

  4

  Brent

  I couldn’t let her leave.

  Now that she’d reappeared in my life and we were within the same fifty-foot radius, I had to secure time alone with her. Without James. Without Colin.

  A few moments outside the restroom weren’t enough.

  There was too much to say. Too much that had gone unsaid for far too long.

  And seeing her reminded me how stupid I’d been, how foolish I’d been to let her go without a fight.

  That was the biggest regret of my life.

  I’d chosen badly at the end.

  I’d accepted her choice. I’d figured I deserved it, too, after all the trips I’d had to cancel. So I took her decision—an understandable one given what had gone down—and said fine.

  Now, I could say all the things I didn’t know how to say then.

  But I’d need to get her alone to do that.

  On my return from the hallway encounter with Shannon, I pressed my fingertips to my temple, weighing my options.

  Then I spotted a shimmer of silver on the floor under the table. A long shot, but it was my best opportunity, so I grabbed the edge of the fabric as James and Colin focused on business matters.

  * * *

  An hour later, the four of us held glasses and raised them high. The deal was done—all that was left was the signing.

  “We’ll draw up the papers this week, and get this show on the road,” James said, then snapped his fingers. “Oh, and Shay, can I get your number too?”

  I reined in a grin. He didn’t even know he’d just become my wingman and secured the ten digits I had most wanted in the world. As Shannon rattled off her number, James tapped it into his phone, and I repeated it in my head. James looked at his watch. “And on that note, I have a wife waiting for me and a two-year-old who likes for his daddy to say good night to him. And I believe our friend Colin has a date.”

  I clapped my business partner on the back. “Get the hell out of here. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m going to catch up with Miles over at the bar,” I said, gesturing to the baby-faced bartender I knew. “And Colin, I hope the rest of your night goes well too.”

  “Thank you,” Colin said as he stood. Shannon did the same.

  “It was great chatting with you. I look forward to the partnership with Shay Productions,” I said, extending final handshakes to them both.

  “As do I,” she said, flashing that same professional smile she’d given me earlier.

  As she reached for her purse, my shoulders tensed. I hoped she wouldn’t realize what she was missing. But she hadn’t noticed all through the meeting, so perhaps she wouldn’t notice now.

  The three of them left.

  Shannon weaved her way through the tables to the exit. The black dress she wore looked as if it had been painted onto her luscious body. Those red shoes, with the crazy crisscross straps, were a beacon, guiding me to where I wanted to be—home.

  With her.

  Neither my body nor my heart had forgotten Shannon Paige-Prince.

  Not one bit.

  She turned the corner to the elevator banks, out of sight now. I leaned back in my chair, trying to catch one final look at her. No such luck.

  I hated that I had to let her walk away, but if I was going to talk to her again—the way I wanted to—I had to play it smart. After three minutes, I figured she was down the elevator and walking across the lobby, but not yet gone. I texted her.

  You left your scarf. Want me to bring it by your office tomorrow, or do you want me to bring it down to you now?

  I waited.

  She might not respond. She might text me immediately or in the morning. She might simply send a messenger service to pick it up.

  My phone buzzed, and I slid open the message. All it said was Hold onto it for me.

  I stared at the screen for several seconds. What the hell was that? That answer was not in the multiple-choice rubric. I squinted and reread it, as if that would translate her words into a clue as to what might happen next.

  Ah, hell. Maybe tonight wasn’t the best time to talk to her.

  I stood, pushed away from the table, and grabbed the scarf that had been under my leg. If she wanted me to hold onto it, that was what I’d do. I’d figure out how to meet her alone and talk to her without her brothers around. Hell, I could probably benefit from some time to plan what I wanted to say. She was the last person I’d expected to see tonight, so I hadn’t scripted my lines. How did you apologize for the kind of idiocy you’d perpetrated when you were twenty-two? I’d been young and selfish—I’d wanted everything that was in front of me. Hey, Shan. Sorry I didn’t hop a plane to London, find you, and tell you I was never going to let you go.

  I went to the bar to close out my tab with Miles and plot my next steps. I should sit down with my good friend Mindy and ask for her advice. Mindy was as solid and straightforward as they came, but she was diplomatic too. She’d guide me through this unexpected reunion.

  But when I tucked my credit card into my wallet and turned around, I came face-to-face with my own lack of planning.

  Shannon held out her hand. “My wrap, please,” she said, her tone even, her face unreadable. “It’s my favorite.”

  “I didn’t think I’d see you again tonight.” I clutched the fabric, as if that would tether her to me for longer. It felt like a lifeline as my heart sped up just from being so close to her. The bar was filled with patrons, the tables packed, the stools taken.

  “I’d like the wrap,” she said crisply, the meaning clear. She only wanted the scarf.

  “Have a drink with me, please,” I said, opting for honesty first. And serving up the truth. “I’d love
to talk to you. There are things I need to say.”

  Her jaw tightened, ticking. Her green eyes went as hard as stone. “Isn’t it kind of late?”

  Too late for us? That had to be what she meant, and that wasn’t good. But I wasn’t above begging.

  “Please,” I said. Fate had given me an opportunity, and I had to take it.

  Had to right the wrongs of the past.

  The last time I’d talked to her, I’d failed. I’d sat out a round.

  Tonight, I wasn’t going to make that same mistake.

  “Besides, it’s barely nine. Hardly late at all,” I added, attempting a joke with a thread of sincerity. Perhaps it wasn’t too late for us at all.

  She sighed and shook her head. “Listen, I’m sorry I made the comment about comedy or clubs, and your focus being business, but even so, it’s been a long day.”

  I was not going to let her go. “One drink. I just want to talk to you. Tell you things.”

  She licked her lips and exhaled, but said nothing. In her silence, I sensed an opening. A chance to earn a laugh or two. With complete honesty.

  “Fine. Confession time.” It was all I had. “I held onto the scarf to see you again. I saw it on the floor, took it, and hid it. I’m a thief, I’ll admit it,” I said, holding my arms out wide, one hand still gripping the silvery fabric. I wasn’t letting go of the only thing I had that she wanted.

  She furrowed her brow. “You took my wrap on purpose?”

  “Yes. You always left them behind when we were together,” I said, stopping briefly when she winced at those words—when we were together. “When I spotted it on the floor, I grabbed it when the guys weren’t looking, and I hid it. I sat on your scarf.” I kept my eyes fixed on her, admitting the full truth even if it made me look like a complete ass.

  Her lips quirked almost imperceptibly, but it was enough for me to think that I was gaining ground. I tried to build on it. “It’s a nice scarf. Do you think I could pull it off for a meeting tomorrow with my real estate guys?” I tossed it around my neck and adopted a pouty stare.