“And you’re an awful client. You’re supposed to be ogling and leering.”
Is this what happened to her every night? Did some ape—did multiple apes—ogle her? Paw at her luscious curves, tell her to move closer, grind harder, get wet for them? Anger the likes of which he had never experienced racked his body to near-paralysis. She lifted her ass from his lap and arched back so her perfect breasts jutted forward.
An urge to alternately protect and plunder her tight, f*ck
able body battled in his chest. The more honorable instinct won out. Barely. He stood, sending her tumbling, but he caught her before she fell on that hot little ass of hers and hauled her upright.
“I need to see you alone.”
“Nice work, mate,” Nigel the Limey Idiot said.
Brody pulled Emma toward him and encircled her waist possessively. She gasped, maybe at his display of dominance, more likely at his pulsing cock against her belly. No one in this place would lay a finger on her as long as he had breath in his body and multiple zeros on his bank balance.
“Now. Alone.”
“The private rooms cost a lot of money.” At his eyebrow lift of I’ve got this, she added, “And they have cameras.”
“Audio recording?”
“Usually, but one of them has been in need of repair for a while. We can see if it’s free.” She looked over his shoulder to the bar. He turned and found a hulk brooding his way. The big kahuna, Brody supposed. “You have to pay first,” Emma whispered, her bottom lip quivering.
Black Amex. Check. He threw it on his seat. He’d pay whatever it took to get her alone. To get her out of here.
“Lead the way. Chardonnay.”
Evidently torn between wanting to return a snarky comment and remove them both from this tricky situation, she chose the latter. Good call. Taking his hand, she led him to a corridor and eventually to a room near the end. She pulled him inside.
He slammed the door behind them and pushed her against it, that dangerous brew of lust and anger in maximum concentration now that they were alone.
“Now, how about you explain to me what the hell is going on here?”
Chapter Five
Mr. Kane was pissed. Understandably so; she had blindsided him, after all. She’d never seen him angry before, and it was…hot. She needed no more reasons to be attracted to him, yet here he was serving up more of the sexy.
His hair dipped over those sex-nerd glasses that always made her weak-kneed. His mouth was set in a straight line, no humor, no give, yet she suspected a kiss might soften it. And make him hard elsewhere.
Or harder.
She’d felt his arousal against her dampening sex as she’d writhed all over him out in the VIP lounge. A purely biological reaction, of course, just bodies rubbing against bodies, because there was nothing sexy about what had occurred. Yet faced with the most humiliating situation of her life, she had still managed to get turned on.
Because that’s your default setting, Ems. A bad girl who just needs the right set of circumstances to revert to no good.
“We have to make this look like a regular customer/client interaction.”
“I’ve paid for your time. I can spend it any way I want.”
“Three songs cost $150.” The music was pumped into the rooms, the same as heard out in the club. Brody probably wiped his ass with hundred-dollar bills, but no way did she want to be in debt to him. The situation was already a complete mess.
“Have a seat,” she said, motioning to the small red velvet sofa.
“Or what? You’ll get fired? Sounds like a great plan to me.” Anger carved his features into hard planes and increased her attraction to him by a factor of oh, a million.
“Then you may as well leave now.”
Evidently exasperated, he sat down. “You, too. Make it look good, right?” He patted his lap.
There was no need to go that far. Lots of dancers sat and talked to the clients, stroking their egos instead of stroking their dicks. She sat on the other half of the love seat, her feet curled under her, leaning in so it looked like she was flirting with the customer for the camera, but not so much that her breasts were saying howdy. A tricky balancing act.
“I’d like to hear an explanation for why one of my employees is here. In a strip club.”
That last part was ground out from a mouth now hard with disapproval. Irritation at his holier-than-thou ’tude flared. “Well, maybe we should talk about why you’re a customer. Men like you keep places like this running. You’re creating a need.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but it’s called pulling out all the stops to nail down the deal. Your oodles of ooolio—” He waved a hand, reaching for the word.
“Oolong,” she supplied helpfully.
“Your oolong tea and crumpets didn’t cut it. Our dickhead of a client is only interested in the crumpet.”
“Do you think he’s going to come through with what we need?”