by Misty Dietz
Fuck. Make good choices.
He should definitely not seduce an employee. That had never turned out well in the past. There was just something about Jessie he couldn’t resist.
And those radiant colors last night as her taste was on his tongue…
He ran a hand down his face. “Okay, maybe I should have told you, but I will only say this once. While I encourage and applaud irreverence while off the clock, don’t you ever run your mouth like that in front of my staff again.” The strict delivery he’d been going for failed as he imagined her cheeky mouth occupied with other things. Like licking the happy trail down from his navel.
“Don’t worry. It won’t happen again because I’m never setting foot in this place again.”
They stared at each other until he realized she felt the heat between them, too. The way her fingers curled into her thighs, the dilation of her pupils, the high color on her cheeks. “Why is your mouth always your weapon when it could be used for much more pleasurable pursuits?” He couldn’t take his eyes from those plump lips which were now very much compressed.
“Pleasurable oral pursuits, huh? How about singing? I’ll write you a song then—it’s called Go Screw Yourself.”
When she tried to storm by him, he caged her against the wall with his whole body. “You’re not making this easy for either of us. That lady you insulted on the dance floor was one of my network partners.”
“Not my problem. I’m not working here, remember?” She was short of breath and her full breasts rapidly rose and fell against his chest.
Oh hell yeah, she was feeling this thing between them.
He brought his hand to her cheek. Sniffed her neck. “You smell incredible. Coconut and berries. I fancy that.”
Her breath caught. “B-back off.”
He put some space between them. “Listen, I didn’t know that you worked here until two days ago when I reviewed your personnel file. The Jessie I knew before that moment was a sexy law student. Not a larger-than-life mixologist with her own show and a following from three states around.”
“But last night! Really?”
Visions of her silken skin made his lips curve. “What can I say? You’re irresistible.”
“Nice line. I’m out of here.” She stepped around him toward the door.
No way was he letting her walk away. “If you stay, I’ll make it worth your while.”
She shook her head. “Like you made it worth Mason Jacob’s while? You gave him nothing but a bad reputation and an insecure future.”
“He brought that on himself. You might want to reassess your loyalties, Jessie. Your uncle wouldn’t have had to sell this place if he wasn’t feeding heroin and Molly to every doper with enough tenners. The bastard’s lucky we gave him bank instead of a court date.”
“I plan to prove he was set up.” By you was her unsaid accusation.
You little piece of work. Someone pounded on the door. “Clear off!” he hollered, then turned back to Jessie. “We’re far from done here.” She raised an eyebrow. He brushed a hand through his hair. “Stay and I’ll raise your pay twenty-five percent. Then, for every year you work for me, I’ll pay a year of your tuition.”
Her lips parted and her eyebrows lifted for a moment before they slammed back into full-on glare-mode. He held his breath. The sassy little bugger was gonna say—
“No.” She put a hand on the door handle.
Nerves clenched in his gut like when he’d begged for food as a street urchin. He took one step toward her before he forced himself to stop. “Jessica, you’d be a fool to turn this down.”
She spun around. “You’re a bigger fool for trying to buy me.”
Losing her was not an option. “For every year you work for me, I’ll raise your pay twenty-five percent, pay a year of your tuition, and all of your grandparents’ expenses for the year so they can remain together.”
Her mouth dropped open, and his gut spasmed. He was treading uncharted waters here.
“What? How do you know about my grandparents?”
He pretended not to hear her curse him under her breath. “Keeping your grandparents together is on your bucket list. You told me last night.” The tender look on her face while she’d talked about them had made him wonder what it would be like to have someone love him that much.
“Why would you do that?” she whispered.
If I told you, you’d never believe me. “Because I can.”
She remained silent for a time, and he could almost hear his partners jeering at him.
How many excellent bartenders, DJs, and support staff had he successfully recruited and hired in the past six years? If he couldn’t keep Jessie, there’d be someone else.
But he’d never experienced these vibrant colors, nor tasted these exquisite flavors like he did when she was around. And quite frankly, he’d lie, cheat, and manipulate a bloody unicorn out of its magic horn before he gave those sensations up.
She took a deep breath and frowned all over again. “What’s the catch?”
He needed her in this club to attract the demons he was obligated to hunt. But she couldn’t know that. He looked into her beautiful blue eyes and knew this would be the best bad proposition he’d ever made.
“Sleep with me.”
Chapter 5
What. The. Hell?
Blood rushed to Jessie’s cheeks, the heat spreading down her neck into her chest. Here she was in a men’s bathroom with the sexiest guy she’d ever met who happened to be her boss. He’d given her the best orgasm of her life without even penetrating her, and he wanted to increase her pay and fund not one, but THE two biggest ticket items on her bucket list…but only if she slept with him? “I’m being punked, aren’t I?”
He shook his head with an inscrutable look in his eyes. No smile either. “Not in the slightest.”
Wow. A deep shiver rocked her body. No way should she be asking for details. This was wrong on so many levels. This was like...prostitution. She was studying to be a lawyer for crissakes. “One night?”
A muscle ticked in his cheek. It shouldn’t have made her want to run her fingers along his stubbled skin.
“No. One week, living with me in my new house. Basically, I want you to do anything I ask of you for the next seven days.”
Never, never, never in a million years would she have dreamt this kind of thing could ever—like freakin’ ever—happen to her. The serial killer thing floated through her mind again. What if he hacked her into a hundred pieces and buried her in a secret chamber in his house? He could totally get away with that because he was the type of man who seemed to get away with anything. Who would take care of her grandparents then? “Pay me up front what I need for the year.”
“Okay.”
Whoa. Not a sliver of hesitation. “What if I spend the money and then don’t follow through?”
His slow smile raised the hairs on her arms in a not-so-bad way. “I will find you.”
She believed him. Besides, where would she go? She’d never leave her grandparents. Sweet juicy peaches, he was sexy. The man sure knew how to use his hands. And mouth.
Ooo, that mouth.
She rubbed her arms, feeling like a ninth grade wallflower who’d just been asked to dance by the hottest guy in school. This was beyond awkward, and here she was, developing quite an unhealthy hatred-cum-fascination for him. But wasn’t her future and that of her grandparents worth it?
It’s only seven days.
He was standing so still he seemed hewn from stone—the old, rugged kind like you find in musty catacombs. “Why do you want this so bad?” she asked.
“You mean, want you so bad?”
She tried to swallow, but her mouth was so dry it was hard to speak. “I guess.”
He waited several moments like he was weighing whether or not to tell her the truth. “You liked me before you knew who I was.”
His unvarnished honesty—because that’s what it felt like—completely disarmed her. And banished the
last fragments of JBlaze. “But I don’t really know you at all,” she said, quietly.
He tilted his head, a boyish innocence in his eyes. “You’ll have seven days.”
Would it be enough, though? How much would he let her see? Would she get the proof she needed to clear Uncle Mason’s name? She’d be sleeping with the enemy. It sounded like a movie slogan—dangerous and sexy. She should turn him down just to thwart him. Clearly, it didn’t happen to him often enough. If ever. But then, she’d be back to square one, trying to support herself, pay for school, and figure out how to keep her grandparents together. Besides, how else would she get close enough to dig up dirt to help Mason?
She could find empty justifications for either of her actions, but wasn’t that always the case for anything? Human beings could rationalize any behavior to clear their conscience. The reality was, she had bills to pay, an uncle to avenge, and this guy was offering multiple solutions on a big, bad, seductive platter.
Nate ran a finger across her lips, his eyes darkening as her jaw parted slightly from the pressure. “Jessie, as much as I hope you’ll accept, I’m not going to stand here all afternoon waiting for your answer.”
It was, without a doubt, the most indecent proposal she’d ever received. But she’d always wonder if she said no. Right?
Gut churning, she looked into his eyes. “I want a notarized contract.”
She said yes. Nate inhaled heavily to bring some oxygen to his brain. “You won’t regret it.”
Jessie put a hand on her hip. “…said the fox to the Gingerbread Girl.”
He rubbed his chest where his heart pounded in giddy victory. “Where did all this cynicism come from? Every conversation we’ve ever had you’ve been nothing but a glass-half-full type of woman.”
“That was before I learned that you lie and manipulate as easily as you charm,” she snapped.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
She threw her hands up. “I can’t believe I thought you were actually—” She stopped abruptly and shook her head.
When she moved to go around him, he gently grasped her wrist. “Thought I was actually what?” He held his breath once again, which was absurd because he’d never cared before what people thought about him.
“Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”
That might have concerned him if it didn’t make him mad first. He dropped hold of her arm. “Look, until you know someone’s background and the motivations for their actions, you’d do well to delay judgment. Isn’t that what you wanted me to do? Withhold judgment?”
“Yeah, but—”
“It goes both ways, Jessica. My so-called manipulations generally come back to benefit both parties. You’ll see what I mean within moments of my signature drying on our contract.”
“The contract is going to specify that I am your companion for the week. Or maybe we should make it interior design consultant, or something,” she said.
“You are welcome to use any terminology you prefer when you draw it up, but you and I both know what the stipulations are. Do we not?”
“I can’t become a lawyer if I have prostitution on my record, Nate.”
“You shall have no worries on that account. In fact, why don’t you write up the contract as my companion, and I’ll increase your compensation commensurate with the extra tax load when you report your income as rendered personal services. At that point, you’ll be running a legitimate business, no?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Think you’re pretty smart, do you?”
Pretty desperate was more like it. He couldn’t ever remember working so hard to convince anyone of anything. “You can’t operate a successful business,” or survive a hundred years fighting demons and your own depravity, “if you don’t have some wits.”
She stared at one of the mens’ room hand dryers like it was an object of endless mystery. When she finally looked up at him her eyebrows were fierce. “No monkey business here at work.”
He smiled. “You mean fucking?”
Her eyes narrowed. “You have a nasty mouth. And you’re delusional if you think I’ll be dropping my panties in the beer locker.”
“Now there’s a provocative idea. I can’t wait to hear what other ideas you dream up.” He watched her quiver. The contradiction between her heated gaze and blushing cheeks sent lust arrowing through him, though he kept his distance because he sensed her readiness to bolt. “I’ll curb my language if it bothers you so. Over-thinking leads to paranoia. When you’re done here, put your schooling to work and go draw up that contract. Katherine can notarize it.”
His by-the-book, straight-laced partner would certainly scorn any involvement in what she’d consider a sordid arrangement. But everyone had an Achilles heel, even Katherine. And she would know he’d use hers—which happened to be a tall, swashbuckling Viking she had loved and loathed in equal measure for decades—to his advantage if she tried to cock-block this agreement.
Unable to keep his distance from Jessie any longer, Nate eased closer, backing her up against the bathroom wall once more. He bent down, bringing his mouth an inch from her neck. “Once I sign it, you’re mine for the next one hundred sixty-eight hours—whether that’s here, the beer locker, or anywhere else.”
Her head listed sideways, a soft sigh escaping. His teeth latched onto her earlobe while his hands slid down her sides, cupping her bottom to bring her tight against him. “I want you at my place tonight, Jessie.”
“Too fast. C-can’t we start after Halloween?”
“Tonight or no deal.” His voice was gruff. Would she call his bluff? She could probably call all the shots at this point, his brain so foggy with wanting her he couldn’t see straight. Don’t let her think either. He kept one hand on her full, sweet ass—damn, she was fit—and brought his other hand to her jaw so he could hold her in place. His mouth needed to mark her, the kiss lighting him up from the inside. Reds, oranges, and hot pinks flared in his peripheral vision as he pressed against her body. A sigh shuddered down her frame. His left hand snuck under her sweatshirt to palm her. It took every last ounce of self control not to peel those tight jeans down her legs, hoist her up, and—
Pound, pound, POUND.
One look at her glazed eyes had him licking the seam of her lips again.
“Nate.” She tried pushing him away. Then he noticed it again. The pounding wasn’t his hips against hers. It was…
“The door! Someone’s at the door!” Jessie hissed.
Nate spun around, shielding her as the door crashed inward, heralding another Unholy Inc partner, Spencer Jameson. Nate glowered at his fellow Englishman, trying to keep Jessie behind him because he was pretty sure her clothes were askew. And if Spencer saw Jessie’s naked breasts Nate would have to maim the knave.
Spencer straightened his sport coat lapels like he hadn’t just gone all ninja warrior on the door, then raised an eyebrow behind the Versace eye glasses that he didn’t even need, the GQ punter. Sans the color aspect, Guardians had perfectly sharp vision.
“I do so detest behaving in such an uncouth manner. However, Katherine intimated there might be a row on the premises, and that I should have a look into it. I’ve looked. Now, can we please dispense with the eau de coitus, and get on with the day? In case you’ve forgotten, your establishment opens in six days, Nathaniel.”
Bastard. Spencer knew the full use of Nate’s name made him crazy, though not why. Only Nate’s mother—who’d originally put him on the streets to pinch food and pockets—had ever called him that.
Spencer patted Nate’s cheek, then turned and sauntered out like the cavalier English-aristocrat-turned-celebrated-naval-officer he’d been in Queen Elizabeth the First’s campaign against the Spanish Armada.
In 1588.
One would think the arrogance would’ve worn off by now.
“Nathaniel?” Jessie was trying not to laugh.
“Think that’s funny, do you?”
“Things that make us uncomfortable are always f
unny.” She shrugged, but her smile faded. “I was laughing because of your reaction. I’ve been called a lot of names I’m not fond of either. Nathaniel isn’t bad.”
People rarely came to his defense. But when they did, it was always motivated by self-interest. He looked at her cautiously.
“Does he always talk like that?” she asked.
“Spencer’s one of a kind.” Nate wondered what quirks and idiosyncrasies he’d accumulate over four centuries if he survived being a Guardian that long.
“In addition to the Masterpiece Theater style of speaking, he has an English accent like yours, though his is much more pronounced. Were you born there?”
He blinked at her for a moment. “Are we talking about Spencer or me?”
Her lips quirked. “Men should really try harder to use both sides of their brain at once.”
“There’s no cause to be mean, Jessica.”
“But you make it so easy. Plus I feel like I have to go on the offense when I’m with you.”
His lips curled. “I’m all for offensive women.” He spread his arms wide. “Have at me.”
She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “You still haven’t told me where you’re from.”
She was like a hound on the trail of a juicy steak. “I was born in London’s East End, but it’s been a long time since I left. I’ve no desire to return.”
“Why?”
The memories torment my sleep. “I fancy my life here. Especially lately.” He reached out and ran his fingers along the side of her arm. She shifted and moved away slowly.
“Why did Spencer call TERRA your club if he’s one of Unholy Inc’s partners?”
Nate’s shoulders relaxed. “All the partners in our world-wide network have a stake in all the clubs, but each of us has claimed a specific location. TERRA’s mine. Now come. The booze distributor will be here in a few minutes. You can help me pick the poison if you allow me take you out to supper at Murray’s later.”
