Whispers of Winter: A Limited Edition Collection of Winter Romances

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Whispers of Winter: A Limited Edition Collection of Winter Romances Page 103

by Nicole Morgan


  “That’s exactly what scares me,” she said. “It’s coming too easy.”

  He burst out laughing. “You have a short memory,” he said. “Do you want me to list what’s gone wrong?”

  “No, I guess you’re right.”

  “We’ve paid our dues. Actually, you’ve paid them, but I was right there alongside you. I think the idiom a bright future applies to us.”

  “I love you, Mark,” Kendall said. “I had really given up on love until you came along.”

  He pushed the table away, holding on to their glasses.

  “What are you doing?”

  He stood up then, digging in his rear pocket, and dropped to his knee.

  “Mark!” she cried as he pulled a small black velvet-covered box out of his pocket. Her hands flew to her face as she began to weep, knowing what was coming.

  “Kendall, you are the love of my life. I’ve loved you since I was a kid. Will you marry me?”

  “Yes!”

  Arms around Mark’s neck, Kendall held him, crying for all she was worth.

  “Hold your hand out, knucklehead,” he said, laughing, flicking a tear off his cheek.

  She did as he asked and held her left hand out, and he slipped a lovely diamond on her finger.

  “My tuition for next year,” he said, laughing. “I’m glad you got me a job.”

  “Paid tuition is a benefit after you’ve been there for three months,” she said, wiping her face with a paper napkin.

  Holding out her hand, she loved the way the ring looked on her finger. “Let’s go show your mom and grandma,” she said. “I’m ready to show the world. As a matter of fact, we’re going to have an engagement party.”

  “We are?” Mark asked, surprised. “That’s really over the top for you, isn’t it?”

  “It is, but I’m ready. I’m done resisting you. Now it’s all about letting everyone know the cougar is in love.”

  “We are definitely in love,” he said, handing Kendall her lemonade.

  They clinked glasses and leaned in to for a kiss.

  “To us!”

  The End

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  Pleasure Your Fantasies Series, Book 1

  Stacy Eaton

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  Chapter One

  Reba

  I released a hefty sigh as I dropped my stage persona and passed through the garnet velvet curtain for the final time that night. I was always thankful when my dancing shift ended. It wasn’t that I hated to dance, I did enjoy it—kinda—okay, sometimes. The money was good—like, seriously damned good. That was what had enticed me to do it in the first place. I sure as hell wasn’t a fan of strutting my stuff on the runway for the exclusive clientele. Of course, if there was any place where I had to be a dancer, I was glad that it was at Pleasure Your Fantasies and that Quinn Monroe was my boss.

  I leaned against the wall with one shoulder and unhooked my five-inch platform heels as I pondered my sexy-as-sin elusive boss. Mr. Quinton Monroe ran a tight ship. He demanded respect, not only from his employees and his clients, but he expected his clients to have the utmost respect for his employees, especially for his dancers.

  Mr. Monroe also required his employees to be professional and take care of themselves, both mentally and physically. He didn’t allow employees with emotional issues or bad habits to remain, unless they received help or kicked the habits. He’d give them a chance because he was a fair man, but if they couldn’t deal with therapy or the process of getting clean or—god forbid—remaining that way, then he kicked their asses to the curb. He had more important things to do, and I didn’t blame him.

  All the employees knew the score when hired: They signed contracts that gave explicit instructions on what would happen should they be found to have emotional or substance abuse issues. They not only signed one when they were hired, but then they signed it again once they were found to have a problem. In my opinion, Mr. Monroe was being extremely generous.

  In June, Ivy had fallen off the wagon. If it hadn’t been for Sophia Thayer, an ICU nurse from Celebration Township who had been moonlighting as a dancer, Ivy would have died from a heroin overdose. Sophia had saved her life, and while Mr. Monroe had wanted to fire Ivy that night, he hadn’t. He had not only taken care of her hospital bills but paid for her rehab, too. Two weeks after she returned from rehab, he did a random drug test on her and she failed. She was escorted off the property and banned from ever returning. No one had heard from or seen her since, at least that I was aware of.

  A few other dancers had come and gone, and so had other employees from other aspects of the business. One of the bouncers, Al, was let go last month, two kitchen staff before that, and one of the trainers was fired when Mr. Monroe found he was not only using drugs but dealing them to the clients. There wasn’t even a second chance given to that guy.

  I yawned as I made my way to the dressing room. Mr. Monroe had a very comprehensive staff that, at my last count, included over fifty people; it might have grown though, I wasn’t sure. He kept his business affairs below a whisper. As far as I knew, only Ty had the boss’s ear and knew the ins and outs of the business. The two of them were obviously thick as thieves, and Ty acted as Mr. Monroe’s bodyguard when needed—not that Mr. Monroe needed a bodyguard. I’d witnessed him take an unruly client down when he’d gotten out of control and no one else was around. Mr. Monroe hadn’t hesitated to put the guy against the wall, and when others had arrived, he’d straightened his coat, adjusted his tie and his cuffs, and then smiled, winked, and walked away as if nothing had happened.

  I had a feeling that Mr. Monroe had several other business dealings going on which would explain why he was so well known in this area. When he had opened this club four years ago, many people didn’t think he could make it work, not when the membership was six grand a year, but Mr. Monroe made sure that his club had more than just dancers to entertain members at night. His building housed meeting rooms, places to hold conferences, a gym, a barber, saunas, a pool, several hot tubs, along with massage services, a game room that included pool and poker tables, and the smoking room. Plus, he was currently having a large section of the basement renovated to install a wine cellar for special events.

  Mr. Monroe had built a booming business, and I’d heard that he was in the process of working on a similar club for women. I wondered how many of the men who frequented this club would allow their wives or girlfriends to join the sister club.

  I gave Ty a sleepy wave as I passed him in the hall outside the dressing room. His husky laughter followed me into the room.

  “You look awful tired for just having gotten off the stage. Normally, you look jazzed.” I wanted to curl up and fall asleep at the sound of his deep, mellow voice.

  “I’m beat. My neighbors were fighting all day, and I didn’t get any sleep.” I plopped into a chair in front of the mirror and grabbed the makeup remover wipes.

  “That sucks. You want me to come over and have a little chat with them?” He came to stand behind me, his wide shoulders filling the mirror, his smile a bit cocky but caring at the same time. His blue eyes sparkled with mischief.

  “Thank you, but no thank you. The last time you had a chat with them, they put dog shit in my mailbox.”

  His brows slammed down, and he snarled, “You didn’t tell me that.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, well, I forgot to mention it. It’s no
t a big deal.”

  “Yes, it is. We need to find you a better place to live,” he said as he frowned.

  Ty was a sweet guy. He could be forbiddingly menacing when he wanted to be, but he was usually quiet and reserved, and spent more time watching than speaking. When he felt comfortable, he’d open up and talk about anything. I’d grown to look to Ty as a big brother. That’s how he made me feel sometimes, as if he would protect me from any outside threat, but tease or tickle me to death if he had the opportunity.

  “I will find another place once I can afford it. You know the deal.” He was the only one around here that I’d confided in.

  “Why don’t you do a few more dancing shifts? You get great tips when you dance, much better than waitressing.”

  I scrunched my face. “I prefer to serve the drinks, you know that, Ty.”

  He laughed and picked up the light blue sweatshirt that hung on the back of my chair and laid it over my shoulders. “Yeah, I know, but you could get out of that place twice as fast if you just did a few more dance shifts a month. Quinn would give them to you if you wanted them. Just say the word and I’ll make it happen.” He snapped his fingers as he flashed a grin at me.

 

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