by Sasha White
“With you always in detention and mouthing off to the parentals they don’t pay attention to my being half an hour late for curfew,” he’d said once with a laugh.
Hockey scholarships had paid for his education and he was already making a great name for himself in the junior leagues. He was expected to go pro as soon as he graduated from University the next year.
And he was apparently into a bit of pain.
When four o’clock came and went Samair realized Joey wasn’t going to make it home, and she wasn’t going to be able to concentrate on the design ideas she’d come up with at the Dungeon until she talked to Brett. She took a couple of aspirin and crawled back into the empty bed and lay there, hugging the pillow and cursing herself for letting Val walk away.
23
The sound of Joey’s off-key singing woke her up a mere three hours later. She rolled over with a groan and buried her face into the pillow. Then she lifted it and sniffed the air.
“Bacon?” she called out hopefully.
“And pancakes,” Joey called back.
She dragged her ass out of bed and stumbled to the breakfast bar. Joey, angel that she was, already had a glass of ice cold Diet Coke waiting for her.
Samair sipped her cold caffeine and watched Joey flip a pancake. A minute later she turned from the stove with a huge stupid ass grin and set a plate full of food in front of Samair. “We didn’t have sex.”
Samair bit into a piece of bacon and waited.
“I went home with Mike after work last night, and he made us coffee and we talked all night. Well, not all night since we didn’t get done at the bar until after three, and he had to get ready for work at seven. He has a day job, and he lives with his brother, but his brother is out of town right now so we had the place to ourselves. You know I don’t normally drink coffee, I prefer tea, and I never drink coffee at three in the morning, but Sammie, he told me straight up that he wasn’t interested in just fucking me. He said he wanted more. More than one night. More than just a lay. It was incredible.” She gave a dreamy sigh, then straightened up and looked Samair in the eye. “Now don’t think I’ve totally lost it. I mean, he’s just a guy. And guys play games. But he was so sweet and sexy at the same time.”
Samair watched her friend in amazement. Energetic, sassy, and slightly raunchy Joey Kent had a new soft edge to her. Like a schoolgirl in love. It looked good on her, too. “Sweet and sexy. It’s a good combination.”
She grabbed another piece of bacon to munch on.
Joey quieted down and fiddled with her fork, not meeting Samair’s eyes. “Do you think maybe he’s scamming me?”
Samair’s heart clenched. She looked so happy…and so scared. Kevin had been a “nice guy” and look what had happened with him. Her brother was a “nice guy” who got off on a little pain-pleasure stimuli. Yet, she looked at Joey, so hopeful, and she couldn’t bring herself to vent all her thoughts on fake people.
Besides, she’d never exchanged more than two words with the bouncer. Who was she to judge? “What do your instincts say?”
“I don’t know,” Joey shrugged. “I think he’s for real. I really do. But what guy says no to sex so that he can have more than one night? I mean, that’s the way girls think, not guys.”
“That’s a true, but very narrow point of view.” She frowned at Joey. “Aren’t you the same person who has always encouraged me to stop doing what was expected, and do what I wanted to do?”
“Yeah.”
“It seems to me that maybe Mike is doing what he wants, going after what he wants—that would be you—instead of what people think he should do—which would be jumping at the easy sex.”
Joey’s mouth gaped, then she snapped her jaw shut and color flooded her cheeks. “You’re right.”
“I know.” Samair grinned and dug into her pancakes.
Their eyes met and they both laughed. “So how was the Dungeon?”
Samair thought about it for a minute. “Educational.”
Joey snorted.
“Educational? Okay, I get that you might’ve seen some things, maybe even done some things,” she raised her eyebrows at that. “But that’s a weird way to describe a night at a sex club with a stud like Valentine Ward.”
Samair needed to tread carefully. She didn’t want to talk about Brett and that whole can of worms until she’d had a chance to talk to him.
“I went there to look at the outfits, remember?”
“Yes. And I remember who you were going there with.” Joey stuffed a forkful of pancake in her mouth and stared at her expectantly.
“Have you ever been on a Harley?”
“Oh yeah. Baby, those give good vibrations, don’t they?”
And just like that the conversation moved on.
* * *
Brett was already at their favorite sushi restaurant when Samair arrived. She’d called him right after Joey had floated out of the apartment on her way to work, and asked him to meet her for an early lunch.
She was five minutes late, and he was already seated at a table near the window. She tapped on it, and waved on her way past, laughing when he jumped.
Ignoring the stares, Samair swept past the hostess and plopped down in the chair across from him with a tight smile. She still hadn’t figured out how to broach the subject foremost on her mind.
“So, little brother, how’s life?”
Brett grinned, his blue eyes bright. “Pretty good, pretty good. You’re looking pretty cheerful for an unemployed and homeless bum.”
She grimaced. “Is that what Cherish is calling me, or Mom?”
He laughed. “C’mon, they wouldn’t say something like that. You know they prefer to speak in euphemisms. ‘Samair is just planning her career right now. She’s between boyfriends at the moment.’”
“Actually, I have some big news on the career front, but I don’t really want you to share it with the family. Think you can keep a secret?”
“Hey, I never told Cherish that it was you who plastered that photo of her and Chris Salter all over the school locker rooms.”
“True, and I appreciate that.”
The waitress arrived and took their order, practically ignoring Samair and flirting with Brett shamelessly. When she walked away, Samair watched Brett check out the girl’s swinging hips and bit her tongue.
“So, what’s the news?” He lifted his coffee mug and grinned at her. “You submit an application to be on Project Runway and get accepted?”
Samair laughed. “God no!”
Brett could always make her laugh. Somehow, he always managed to cut through the bullshit and make her smile. If it hadn’t been for him, she’d have run away from home by the time she was fifteen.
“Better. I got asked to host a fashion show, featuring my own line of lingerie, at a private party at Club Risqué.”
His eyes widened. “That’s huge, sis!”
Brett lifted his mug to her and she clinked it with her glass. He really was a great brother. Always there for her.
He stared at her a moment, eyebrows slowly drawing down into a frown.
“What?”
“Why don’t you want the family to know? This would be the perfect thing to get them to lay off and let you go for it.”
“The theme for the show is Fetish and Fantasy. Not exactly the type of show I think Mom and Dad would enjoy.”
“No shit.”
She stirred the ice in her glass with the straw, watching him from under her lashes. “Do you think they’d freak?”
“I think they wouldn’t understand.” He sat back to let the waitress refill his coffee, but he didn’t even look at her, so she walked away when she was done. “Mom and Dad, and even Cherish, they’re not bad people—”
“I know that.” She did. She knew her family loved her, they just didn’t understand anything, or anyone who didn’t want the same things they wanted.
Ding, ding, ding.
Brett knew what she knew. That their family wasn’t as perf
ect as everyone liked to believe, and that some things, some dreams, some desires, were better kept to oneself.
He wasn’t lying about whom he was or pretending to be someone he wasn’t. He was just keeping his own business to himself. She could understand that. She didn’t want to tell the whole world she was working her way through an imaginary list of fantasies with an older man she barely knew.
A weight lifted from her shoulders and she relaxed back in her seat. Brett was barely twenty-six years old. Old enough to make his own choices and be his own person. She could respect that.
“Are they still harping on your hockey?” she asked with a wry smile.
“Yeah. Dad keeps trying to set me up on interviews. The I’m-not-done-school-yet argument is only going to work for another few months.”
“Then?”
He laughed. “I’m hoping by then you’ll be making enough of a splash with this business of yours that they won’t freak when I tell them I’m sticking with hockey.”
She shook her head at him. “I love you, brother.”
24
After lunch with Brett, Samair took her sketchpad and settled in on the loveseat with a bag of microwave popcorn and a huge glass of pop. She wasn’t hungry, but the muse was, and Samair needed inspirational designs fast.
Sure enough, the combination of salt, sugar and caffeine worked…and four hours later she had over a dozen rough sketches. Images of things she’s seen the night before, things she’d found on the Internet, things she liked, all blended into some of the wildest things she’d ever done, and some of the softest, too.
The best thing about all of the designs was that she really only needed three basic patterns that she could build on. She had one corset design that she could alter easily to make into different looks and accessorize to suit either a dominant or submissive look.
Thank God Tara was a bit of an exhibitionist, she was going to need a model willing to be almost naked for a couple of the outfits. Her imagination had really gotten into the erotic spirit of things with a cup-less bondage bra and a net bodysuit.
Joey wasn’t exactly shy with her body either, so that gave her two models. Kelly was iffy, but that was okay because not every outfit was massive exposure. She needed to ask Joey if she’d found a couple of others willing to model for her. They’d have to meet next week to make sure everything fit, and go over the floor plan.
The floor plan. She needed to utilize the whole place. To make sure that everyone there got a look at the products.
She got up and did the breakfast dishes, keeping her hands busy so her mind could roam free. She pictured the club, and where and how she’d want the models to walk, to dance?
Her cell phone rang and she wiped her hands dry on her jeans before flipping it open.
“Hey, babe. How are you today?” Val. The warmth in his voice brought a soft smile to her face.
“Doing good. Really good actually.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“Thanks for last night,” she said quietly. She picked up her pencil and started doodling on the blank page in front of her. She was a little unsure how to say what she’d been thinking. “About last night. At first I didn’t get why you weren’t sticking around…you know, to uhmm, to fuck me in the corset like you’d promised. But after you left, I got it.”
“You had other things on your mind last night. I’m a selfish man, I want you to be fully aware, and into anything that happens between us.” He laughed softly. “Besides, I expect you to wear that corset for me again sometime.”
Heat rushed to her sex. She swallowed and tried to speak naturally. “I had lunch with Brett today. My brother.”
“How did it go?”
“It was good. He’s still the same guy I grew up with. When I went there I’d planned to confront him, but I realized that it didn’t matter. He’s allowed to have a private life, too, and it’s none of my business. It’s not like I want him knowing—” she cut herself off.
“Knowing what?” his soft chuckle echoed over the phone line. “That you have an adventurous streak yourself?”
She relaxed. “Exactly.”
Talking to him was nice. He understood.
She looked at her doodling and realized she’d been drawing little hearts and filling them in. Shit.
Taking a deep breath she tried to get her head back in the real world. “Are you at Risqué?”
“Heading in for the night right now.”
“Think I could drop in while it’s still closed, and walk around? To get a good mental idea of how I want to lay things out for the show.” Mental images of the club just weren’t doing it. Plus, getting him alone in his office sounded like a real good idea right about then. She could thank him properly for his care and concern.
“Sure, just use the doorbell at the back. Kelsey will be stocking the bar and she’ll let you in.”
They said their good-byes and she snapped the phone shut.
Anticipation fluttering in her stomach, she started for the closet. She knew just what she wanted to wear for this little visit.
* * *
The hog rumbled beneath him and the wind whipped through his hair as Val made his way to the club. Soon the weather would turn and he’d have to put the bike away for the winter. He had an old Camaro stashed in Karl’s garage that was his winter car, but he’d keep driving the bike as long as he could.
Hopefully, he’d be able to make one last road trip before it was time to park it. Karl would certainly be up for it. He wondered what it would take to get Samair to go with them. Her attitude in dealing with Karl had been top notch. Val chuckled to himself. Women were too easy for Karl and he needed one to stand up to him and put him in his place every now and then.
The night before certainly hadn’t turned out the way he’d thought it would. He was still hard pressed to pick a part of the night that was his favorite. Especially now that he’d talked to Samair and found out she was doing okay. If she’d been hurt by him taking her there, he’d have felt like shit.
The ride to the Dungeon, with Samair’s legs hugging him and her body pressing against his had been great. It had felt almost…right. Like she belonged there, on the bike with him.
He’d never been able to coach Vera onto the Harley. She’d been way too concerned about who would see her to care how it would feel, or make him feel.
The open wonderment on Samair’s face when she’d climbed off the bike had told him that he probably wouldn’t have to beg to get her on it again. The expression had remained as they walked through the underground club, and it had him wanting to show her the world. It wasn’t like she was innocent—a woman that played his body the way she did was no virgin—but she was ingenuous. Her pleasure and enthusiasm were pure and honest.
She didn’t play head games, and he liked that.
When Val pulled up at the back door to Risqué he was feeling damn good. He entered the club through the back door and started down the small corridor. The door to the walk in cooler was open so he stopped in the doorway to talk to his head bartender. “Everything go all right last night, Kelsey?”
“Smooth as a baby’s butt, boss.” The petite brunette hefted a case of Bud onto the trolley she had set up, then planted her hand s on her hips. “How was your night?”
Val smiled. Kelsey had worked for him since he’d opened the place. They weren’t friends, but she was a sweetheart, and she was valuable to him. “Not as smooth as yours, but still good. I like the new color, it suits you better than the purple.”
“Yeah?” She fingered a lock of hair. “I wasn’t so sure. It was between orange or blue, and I’ve done blue before…so orange it is.”
“It’s perfect. Halloween is coming soon, so you’ll be considered…enthusiastic.”
“Shit! I didn’t even think of Halloween. Oh no, the orange has to go. Maybe green,” she muttered as she hefted another case of beer.
He bit back a chuckle. He’d known that would get her.
Val used
to offer to help her with the beer, or bring in one of the guys early for the lifting, but Kelsey was nothing if not stubborn, and he’d learned to let her do it her way.
“Hey, boss,” she called out as he turned away.
“Yeah?”
“Your ex is at the bar, and she’s pissy because I wouldn’t let her into your office to wait for you.”
Great. “Thanks.”
Dread settled on his shoulders. It was never good news when Vera came by the club. He shoved the swinging door open and strode into the club. “What do you want, Vera?”
“Is that any way to greet a friend?” She smiled from her perch by the main bar.
His steps didn’t falter as he crossed the floor to the stairs. “You’re not a friend.”
“Tsk, tsk, Val. I was much more than a friend at one point.”
Val didn’t respond. He wasn’t going to get into a discussion about the past with her.
She followed him up the stairs and into his office. Ignoring her, he took off his jacket and hung it on the rack, then sat behind his desk and booted up the computer.
“You’re looking good, Valentine.” Vera seated herself on the sofa, crossing her legs and smiling at him seductively.
“Thank you. I’m feeling good.” Or he was until he saw her.
“Feeling better than when we were together?”
His gaze snapped to her. “Why do you care?”
“You live in a crappy apartment, you sold your Camaro, and you’re struggling to make your bank payments. I want to make sure you’re okay.”
Impatience reared and he put down the pencil he’d picked up before he snapped it in two. His tolerance for Vera’s games had ended the night he’d left her, but he really didn’t want her to know how easily she could get under his skin. She thought she new everything. But she didn’t, he rminded himself.
“I don’t have time for this. What do you want, Vera?”
