Flirt

by India Masters

  Flirt

  Copyright © June 2008, India Masters

  Cover art by Tuesday Dube © June 2008

  Amira Press

  Baltimore, MD 21216

  www.amirapress.com

  ISBN: 978-1-934475-77-5

  No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Amira Press.

  Dedication

  To Sherri Livingston, mentor, friend and all around sassy Southern Bell,

  and all the wonderful women at the Erotic Romance Crit Corner.

  Y’all rock my world!

  Chapter One

  Flirt was the trendiest new club in New Orleans and the brainchild of mystery man Noah Lazarus. The outside of the cinder block building was painted a dull, flat black, giving it a nondescript look during the day. The only thing setting it off was the glowing scroll of neon above the door. At night, rows of hidden black lights washed down over the facade, bringing the building to life. The blocks were randomly painted in a variety of neon colors that only showed up under the lights.

  Olivia Sheppard walked alongside Ian Lazarus, the club’s manager, while he showed her around what might be her new work environment. What prompted her to apply for the position, she couldn’t say. She’d read the advertisement, and it had simply felt right. Then there was the air of mystery that hung around the Lazarus brothers—more so around Noah than his brother Ian, who was currently chatting her up with all the enthusiasm the club’s name implied. Still, he was serious eye candy—tall with a head of light brown hair cut into the chunky spike style that was the trend for men these days—and if she didn’t get the job, at least she knew she wasn’t dead. She recognized a good-looking man when she saw one.

  “No expense has been spared on the inside. The interior consists of five distinct areas, if you count the bar, and each is soundproofed to prevent one from disturbing the ambience of the other.”

  He guided her through the door of a sixties inspired dance area, and opened a control panel hidden behind a framed Grateful Dead poster from the Fillmore days in San Francisco.

  The poster swung open on invisible hinges. “Clever,” she murmured.

  Ian flipped several switches, and the multi-colored dance floor lit up, the music throbbed to life, and strobe lights pulsed to the beat. There was a tall dais overlooking the dance floor where a disc jockey would do his thing.

  “Go-go cages?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

  Chuckling, he shrugged. “What can I say? It’s the sixties.” He flipped off the lights and music and led her down the next passageway. “The game room. Pretty much self-explanatory.”

  She nodded, taking in rows of pool tables, an area for darts, and several sitting areas where game boards sat open and ready for players.

  The next room was a salon, of sorts, filled with cozy seating areas, conversation pits, and laptop computers. “This is for the folks who just want to come in after work, have a drink, and some quiet conversation, or surf the Internet.”

  He stepped around her and led her through a connecting passageway. “The media room. We’re a licensed theater, too, so we’ll be showing everything from artsy foreign films to the latest action-adventure flicks.”

  “Very cool,” Olivia said with a nod.

  He turned and led her out the way they’d entered, and turned down a long, lushly carpeted hall. He cleared his throat. “This last room is for the more—ah, adventurous customer. It’s membership only, and fully licensed for the more exotic activities.”

  He opened the door and flipped a light switch to reveal a scene straight out of Arabian Nights. Gauzy silks in rich jewel tones draped from the ceiling in soft waves, making the large space cozy. Tall, thick pillars of candles rose up from the floor on elaborate iron wrought stands. “This week’s subject is The Seraglio. Members can participate in weekly themed activities of a more carnal nature. The membership fee is high in order to discourage the less discriminating client, and one of your duties will be to perform the extensive background checks required. Participation in the activities is not mandatory. Members so inclined will be allowed to observe any of the couples or groups who enjoy being watched.”

  “Wow,” Olivia said, checking out the exotic array of pillows, beds, and various objects scattered around the room. Several areas were curtained for a modicum of privacy. From the bright silks and gauzy drapes that hung ceiling to floor to the plush cushions on the floor and Moroccan lamps suspended by a polished silver chain above each lush lounging arrangement, it was everything she imagined a harem might look like.. It could have been a caricature straight out of Hollywood, yet it was so elegantly done, so realistic in style and theme that she could well understand a couple getting carried away with the atmosphere.

  Lazarus laughed and pulled the door shut. Olivia met his steady gaze while he gave her the once-over, probably gauging her reaction to all she’d seen. “So, shall we go back to the office and discuss the job description or are you feeling inclined to run screaming from the joint?”

  It was Olivia’s turn to laugh. “Oh, Mr. Lazarus, don’t let my girl-next-door looks confuse you. I did ten years with the military police. I know security like the back of my hand, and there hasn’t been a man born yet I can’t put on his ass if I’ve a mind to. Lead the way.” This job is mine. As soon as the office door closed behind them, the offer was made and accepted. She practically danced a jig on the way out.

  * * * *

  “Impressions?” Noah Lazarus asked.

  “I like her,” Ian responded. “Is she the one you’ve been looking for? I didn’t see even a hint of red emanating from her. Too soon to say, I’d guess.”

  Noah nodded. The old seer had been specific when referring to his intended. She would surrounded with red. Ian’s assessment was true, but the scent of her hung in the air to tantalize him from room to room. That had never happened before. “Point taken, yet I can’t help but feel it’s her. Her fragrance . . . resonates. And she’s more than qualified for the position. Question is, how will she be able to handle the nuances of the job?”

  Ian rolled his eyes. “You mean how is she going to handle it when she finds out what you are?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Something tells me the lady can handle anything you throw at her.”

  “Including the Sentinel?”

  “Why not? They’re human, aren’t they?”

  Noah raised an eyebrow. “The jury is still out on that one, brother, but if she is the one, they’ll figure it out soon enough. If she’s not the one, we’ll still have to keep an eye on her until they see she isn’t a threat.” He stood and stretched. “What time will she be back?”

  “Nine o’clock.”

  He nodded. “Good. I need to feed. Then I’ll get dressed and meet your girl-next-door security expert.”

  * * * * *

  Olivia burst through the door and rushed to pick up the ringing phone. She dumped her purse and keys on the console table and checked the call screener. Allie, yay! She snatched up the phone. “I got it! I got the job at Flirt!”

  “Oh, my God!” her friend squealed. “How does if feel to beat out all those pumped-up amateurs?”

  “Just to the left of fanfuckintastic! And icing on the cake? Richard Bellows applied and got turned away as the manager was walking me out. He was so pissed his ears were red!”

  Allie’s laughter lit up the phone line. “Oh, that is too precious! Bet he thinks twice before calling you ‘chickie’ again. You know he didn’t pass the psych profile for the academy, right? So, when do you meet the mysterious Mr. Lazarus?”

  “Tonight at nine. I gotta run, sweetie. I need to shower and rummage through my closet
for something appropriate to wear.”

  “I’ll be waiting on your doorstep when you get back!”

  Thank God, she had plenty of time to prepare for the meeting with her new boss. While blow-drying her hair, Olivia realized she had never actually seen a photo of Noah Lazarus. He was a well-known entrepreneur, especially with the glitterati of Europe and New York. He owned nightclubs in Paris, Milan, London, and New York. He’d even opened casinos in Monaco and Vegas. Why the hell would he open a club in New Orleans? And why was he so publicity shy?

  Of course, she’d checked him out before applying for the job. She’d Googled him, and when she found no pictures of him, she’d called one of her contacts in the military police and asked him to run the man’s background. He’d checked out. No arrest record, no hint of scandal attached to him. Not even a traffic ticket.

  The phone rang—Richard Bellows. She grinned and picked up the phone. “Hello?” she practically sang..

  “I guess congratulations are in order,” Bellows said sullenly.

  “Thanks, Rich. Sorry you didn’t get the job.”

  Bellows snorted. “I’d say thanks if I thought you really meant it.”

  Olivia laughed. “Yeah, well, what can I say? I’m not really sorry you didn’t get the job, and I’m deliriously happy that I did.”

  “So, what’s he like? The enigmatic Mr. Lazarus?”

  “Dunno, he wasn’t there. I’m meeting with him tonight to get his approval, although Ian says it’s just a formality.” She dropped the towel she’d wrapped around her body and opened her closet door. What to wear? “Hey, I’d love to spend the next few minutes chatting about why I’m more qualified for the position, but I’m meeting the big guy in a little over an hour and I need to get ready. Bye now.” He was swearing on the other end of the line when she punched the Off button. She puckered her lips and blew the phone a kiss before stepping into her closet.

  Damn it! She hated it when she couldn’t make up her mind what to wear. Did she go with the clean-cut look, the club look, or the professional security expert look? Nah, she was done with conservative. A combination would do nicely. She needed to give the appearance of professionalism, yet still be a bit of eye candy for the patrons involved in the club scene. Maybe, just maybe, she’d meet someone to fill the emptiness left behind when her hitch with Uncle Sam had ended. It wasn’t like she needed the job. Her parents had left her quite well off when they’d passed., but something was missing in her life, and if she didn’t go back to work, she’d likely go stark-raving mad. Ah, well, time for the final interview with the mystery man himself.

  * * * *

  He didn’t know why, but Noah was nervous about meeting his newest employee face-to-face. Something about her scent aroused him. It was a new feeling for him, this pheromone-based arousal. He detected her presence in every room she’d toured, especially in the fantasy room. Had she been aroused by the idea of what would happen in that room on a weekly basis? And if so, what did that mean?

  He tented his fingers and gazed thoughtfully off into space. It had been so long since he’d had any kind of meaningful relationship with a woman. Even those that managed to last a few years invariably ended when the woman realized what living with a vampire meant—that she would continue to age while he was eternally thirty-seven years old.

  His mind touched on the women he’d cared for in the past. Several had begged him to turn them, but that was one thing he refused to do. It was a serious business, turning a person, and one he didn’t take lightly. Others of his race did so without regard to the long-range consequences.

  Noah believed the act of turning required a lifetime commitment. He would only turn the woman meant for him—that mysterious woman surrounded by red. And then, only at her behest. Anything else was unacceptable. Jilted vampires often turned mean.

  Ian knocked on his office door and opened it, exchanging a look with him, then stepped aside so Olivia Sheppard could enter. Noah had seen her on the security screens, of course, but she was even lovelier in person. The power of her scent washed over him. She smelled of magnolias and languorous New Orleans moonlight.

  She had chosen a chic suit by his pal, Marc Jacobs, an ensemble of black, silk slacks paired with a long, wide lapelled black velvet vest, beneath which she was obviously braless. She had to be because the damn thing buttoned at the waist. Her breasts were high and firm, neither too big nor too small. He imagined taking them in his hands, molding them to his touch. The tantalizing line of bare skin between each perfect globe practically begged to be licked. His cock stirred while he studied her.

  “Good evening, Ms. Sheppard,” Noah said, standing while she walked gracefully across the room. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Likewise, Mr. Lazarus.”

  He accepted her proffered hand, then motioned her to a seat across from his desk. “Ian tells me you have quite the impressive resume. We’re lucky to have you, but tell me, why Flirt?”

  “Truthfully, it was an impulse. After ten years with the military police, I was ready for a change,” she said, smiling politely. “As you can imagine, the service doesn’t allow for much of a life outside the job, and the politics involved after September eleventh became unbearable. In short, I wanted a life.”

  Over tented fingers, Noah studied her. “Did Ian mention I might want you to provide personal security for me when I travel? Would that be something you would be open to doing?”

  She shifted in her seat, one eyebrow raised, clearly curious about what he was proposing. “I suppose that would depend on where you were traveling and how long you intended to be gone, sir. If I was unable to provide that service personally, I would certainly be able to find someone more than capable to do so.” She gave him a thoughtful look, glanced at Ian, and back to him again. “I was given to understand I would be head of security for Flirt. No mention was made of obligatory travel.”

  He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. He wanted her with him when he traveled. “Actually, Ms. Sheppard, it’s my intention to offer you the position of head of security for all my clubs. Naturally, that will require occasional travel. In fact, once Flirt is open and operating smoothly, I would like you to accompany me to the other locations and assess the security needs at each one. I will also need you to oversee any updates required and see to the hiring of any additional staff. Is that something you feel comfortable doing?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  She was a true professional. Her eyes didn’t even widen with his proposal, and she answered with a curve to her lips any man would want to see more of.

  “And you are comfortable with some of the more . . . atypical aspects of my establishments?”

  She laughed. Sweet Lord, it should be a crime for a woman to have a laugh like that, all deep and throaty, like she’d just done something incredibly naughty. “You would be surprised by some of the things I’ve seen in the line of duty, Mr. Lazarus.”

  “I very much doubt that, Ms. Sheppard.”

  “Then you know it’s impossible to be a shrinking violet in my line of work.”

  “Indeed. In fact, I’m counting on it. Oh, by the way, Ian discussed the confidentiality agreement with you?”

  * * * *

  The meeting lasted less than an hour, and Olivia headed home. Holy shit, the man was sex on a stick! How in God’s name would she ever manage to maintain her professionalism around him when all she wanted to do was lick him like Popsicle?

  True to her word, Allie was waiting on her doorstep.

  “So, what’s he like?” she asked excitedly.

  Olivia unlocked the door and ushered her friend inside. “I can’t tell you much because I had to sign a confidentiality agreement.”

  “Oh, pooh! I wanted details.” Her bottom lip stuck out in a pout.

  “Well, I can tell you this . . . he is babeilicious.”

  “I knew it! Give . . . what’s he look like?”

  Olivia went into the kitchen, Allie righ
t behind. “He’s very tall, probably six-four or five. Long, poker-straight, black hair, and pensive gray eyes with sinfully long lashes. Lips that make you want to suck on them.” She opened the refrigerator and grabbed a couple of beers, handing one to her friend. “Rather pale skinned, like he doesn’t get out in the sun much. Powerfully built.” She caught herself sighing, then laughed. “He’s the whole package, Allie. You know my rule about personal relationships in the workplace, but this guy, all I could think about was falling to my knees and sucking his cock. And his brother, Ian? Oh, my God! There should be a law against two men who look that hot being under the same roof.”

  “Married? Either one of them?”

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  “Involved?”

  “Again, not to my knowledge.”

  The other woman shuddered. “Gay?” When Olivia cracked up, Allie came to her own defense. “Well, it just seems like all the really good ones are either married or gay!”