Dani leaned against the bar of the Danny Mann Pub and swirled her drink, surveying the crowd. Jimmy wasn’t here, but she hadn’t expected him to be. More to the point, however, according to Mary the bartender, he’d not been in the place for longer than a quick beer in months.
Just like every other bar she’d canvassed over the past couple of days, trying to find out by indirect means exactly what was going on with her baby brother.
It wasn’t like she didn’t have the time. By unspoken accord, as she and Rand had parted the morning after their interlude at Darke, neither one of them had made any promises about the next time they’d get together—and he’d been quiet since, giving her two full days of respite. This wasn’t a problem on her end, not at all. He’d already given her the cash. If he didn’t want to get the full value of his money, that was totally his call. Thirty days was thirty days no matter how you sliced it.
And she wasn’t going to lie: With a single request, Rand had blown her control completely to shreds, forcing her to invoke her hard no, leaving her feeling completely out of her depth on a level she hadn’t experienced since she was a teenager. All of her bravado, all of her toughness, all of her confidence had completely disappeared when she’d seen those cuffs…and she should have been expecting to see them! Rand had likely tried every sexual position and situation modern man had ever devised, and if she was willing and able, of course he’d want to try a few with her. The fact that he’d done so when her guard was down because she knew sex was off the table might have been a masterstroke on his part, but it wasn’t a masterstroke he’d intentionally made.
The look on his face when she’d freaked out…
Dani shifted against the bar. She’d let a little more than her dress slip away the other night. She’d lost the delicate advantage she’d held since she’d first laid eyes on Silver Spoon weeks ago. Now she felt vulnerable, jumping every time her cell phone buzzed, craving Rand’s voice, his touch, with a fervor matched only by her hope that she’d never speak to the man again.
That wasn’t likely, she knew. No matter how busy the guy had gotten, he wasn’t going to drop her cold. Not with so much time left on their contract.
Right?
“You gonna actually drink that before I grow old and die?”
Dani turned to Mary, lifting her glass in salute. “Just savoring the magic of bourbon.”
“Well, you hang out here much longer, I’m going to put you to work behind the bar. I told you, Jimmy’s not gonna show. I haven’t seen him much at all since he knocked up his old lady and made that beautiful little girl, and even that night it was just right after work, and then he was off to home or another job.” Mary smiled broadly. “He owes me pictures is what he owes me, not cash.”
Dani nodded. This was the fourth bar of the evening, and the story remained the same. No, Jimmy hadn’t been in. No, they hadn’t heard about any trouble her foster brother had cooked up for himself—nobody was complaining about being stiffed or crowing about some big debt made good. Dani herself hadn’t heard from Jimmy since she’d handed off the money, and given her recent reprieve from Rand, she’d started doing a little digging on her own. But whomever Jimmy was paying off, they weren’t at any of the usual haunts. Or if they were, they weren’t talking.
“You’ll let me know if he comes in?” Dani asked, and the bartender just shook her head.
“Girl, I got you on speed dial when it comes to that kid, you know that. You’re not the only one who’s watched him grow up.” Mary laughed as Dani offered her a rueful smile, then she glanced over to a commotion at the doorway. Her grin flattened into a thin line. “Well, looks like Asshole and Dickless are reporting for duty. So at least my night’s complete.”
“Who?” Dani swiveled around to follow her line of sight, narrowing her gaze on two guys who’d just swaggered into the Danny Mann, definitely part of the after-work crowd. Unlike most of the places she’d canvassed already, this place drew a more eclectic selection of corporate doobs and hipsters, along with the usual group of regulars. It was an Irish pub that had expanded to include a room with darts and a couple of pool tables, with TVs throughout tuned to soccer as well as whatever American sport was currently cycling through. Dani bartended here on football Sundays and during the summer, when the pub was pretty overrun, but tonight’s crew was about average for a blustery February. Still, with the addition of the two lotharios even now heading their way, it already seemed too crowded. “What’s their story?”
“The usual.” Mary shrugged. “Guys with more money than sense walking around with their dicks in their hands, looking to hustle pool mostly, but secretly hoping they’ll get laid. Which hasn’t happened yet, so far as I can tell.”
“Yeah?” Dani squinted to the left, where the pub’s gleaming billiard tables beckoned. She could give a shit about whether or not they thought they’d get lucky, but if there was some extra cash to be made…“They any good at pool?”
“Good enough,” Mary said. “Long as they’re not bothering me, I don’t pay much attention. But they win as often as not, from what I can tell.”
“Excellent,” Dani said. “Give me a few minutes, then send them over, okay? I’m in the mood for a score.”
Mary’s smoky laughter followed her into the next room, where she barely had enough time to select her pool stick and chalk before her marks joined her. True to Mary’s word, the men looked like money—not Rand’s kind of money, of course…
Don’t go there. Today’s sudden barhopping expedition had only partially been motivated by her desire to find out more about her little brother. The other half had been to get Richie Rich out of her brain, where he’d been firmly lodged since their little escapade at Darke. Just the memory of that damned St. Andrew’s Cross sent a spurt of adrenaline through her, taking her back to the scene immediately, despite her resolute smile as she studied her pool stick as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. But her eyes didn’t see the brightly polished wood—they saw metal and leather, handholds and cuffs. They saw the intense, naked desire on Rand’s face. They saw her own hands, clutching the blindfold after Rand had made his first request, shaking hard enough to fall off her body.
There were parts of that scene that she’d enjoyed—and parts that had already given her nightmares. Only now, both parts were all jumbled up in her head, and she didn’t know how to tease out the good from the bad, or even if she could. Especially since some of the bad had felt so good…
“So, you’re the local pool shark?” Guy number one said finally, and Dani swung around, blinking at him with what she hoped was credible surprise. “Bartender told us to watch out for you.”
“Oh, gosh, is that what she said? I just like to play, and she told me I could probably strike up a game if I just came in here and racked some balls.”
“That sounds dangerous,” Guy number two said, leaning on the table with a wide grin. There was no point in naming these idiots anything she’d need to remember, Dani decided immediately. They were interchangeable with most of her marks when she ran the pool hustle. Same slightly smug expressions, same roving eyes, same dismissive leer when she blushed. And it had been just long enough since she’d played this game at the Danny Mann that they didn’t know about her. Even Mary “tipping them off” was part of her schtick, and it drew in the suckers every time.
“Well, if you guys are worried, maybe I should take you two on one?”
“We were hoping you’d say that.” Guy number one was already at the sticks, picking one out for him and another one for his buddy. “Nothing we like more than doubling up.”
Dani’s smile was all promise and heat. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, letting her voice go a little softer around the words. She felt the old energy returning to her stride as she strolled around the billiards table, deliberately fumbling with the chalk on the edge of the cue stick and not missing the look of glee the two stooges exchanged. “So what are the stakes here, anyway?”
“You lose, you pay up,” Guy number one said. “Only you gotta pay us both.”
She flashed him a startled glance that she hoped was mostly naïve. “How much are we talking? I only have a couple hundred on me in cash.”
“That works,” Guy number two said quickly. “And if you win, we’ll both pay you two hundred dollars.”
“Both!” Dani’s eyes rounded, and she was also glad she could still get excited about fleecing a couple of guys out of four hundred dollars, even in the wake of a fifty-grand payday. Of course, she’d already given away Rand’s money, whereas this four hundred dollars was hers to blow with abandon.
She had to win it from Tweedledee and Tweedledum first, of course, but that wasn’t going to be a problem.
Despite her slipup the other night at Darke, Dani wasn’t built to lose. And this little ruse was just what the doctor ordered to get her back on her game.
Rand stepped past the velvet rope, his eyes scanning the crowd. He’d not been to this particular club in far too long, judging by the new faces. Then again the ebb and flow of Boston’s young and beautiful was in constant flux. He traveled enough that he was treated to a bevy of unique distractions every time he did venture out.
This night was no different. He lingered on a long, cool blonde who felt his stare but did her best to ignore him until her friend, whose face he did vaguely recognize, nudged her. He wasn’t the only member of the trust-fund set who was out tonight, apparently. Something he should probably keep in mind, given William’s campaign.
He considered whether or not he gave a shit. Nope.
Tonight was about creating a reset. Though they’d spent the rest of the evening after their experience at Darke in enjoyably mindless sex—in his foyer, his living room, even his kitchen—Rand had left Dani at her brownstone the next morning without any clear plans to reconnect, a decision he even now borderline regretted. But at the time he’d still not trusted his own reactions to the panic he’d seen in her eyes at Darke, to how near she’d clearly been to some sort of breakthrough—or breakdown. He’d taken her just up to the edge of that, but he’d hesitated.
And he never hesitated.
Then, when she finally had broken, he’d been the one to experience the total sweep of physical and emotional need, like he simply never had before.
Something about Dani that night had reached out and laid claim to him in a way that he couldn’t quite understand. He’d known it then, subconsciously, and he’d known it every goddamned moment since then, with the woman preying on his brain like she was the hunter and he the victim. Which, for those keeping score, was exactly the opposite of the way this was supposed to go. He’d wanted to call her a hundred times—demand that she give him the time he’d paid for. But in the end, he hadn’t been able to do it. He was getting too close, wanting to give more than he took. And that simply wouldn’t do.
“Mr. Winston! Welcome back.”
Rand lifted his brows as a woman glided toward him, one of the club’s managers. Marilyn Wren was older than the nubile group of microdresses and platform boots that were parading in front of him like menu items, but she had the benefit of being a familiar, welcome face in the sea of strangers. She reached out a hand to him and he took it, drawing her closer than he knew she expected. She came willingly enough, however, any surprise quickly masked as he kissed her lips, which softened and parted beneath his.
Allowing her to draw away, Rand noted the rise of color in her cheeks, the darkening of her eyes. Clearly, she could sense his intensity. Sense it and imagine how this evening could play out—as evenings had played out so many times between them before.
“You’re looking lovely as always, Marilyn,” he said. He tried to make his words convey a deeper layer of meaning, a promise that any other night he’d be more than willing to keep. It seemed to work, as Marilyn’s smile deepened.
“And you flatter me, when you’re drawing stares all around.”
“You have a problem with being watched?”
Her gaze connected with his again, and he waited for it. The zing of anticipation, the increasing heat of the moment, the tightening of his body as it prepared for a night of sexual abandon. It didn’t happen.
At least not for him.
Marilyn felt that zing, clearly, as her laughter bubbled forth like expensive champagne. She turned back toward the club, drawing him deeper into her domain, and Rand felt the firm pressure of her breast as it brushed against his arm. Marilyn’s body was fuller than Dani’s, though still aristocratic, with just a hint of lushness in the curve of her hips and thighs. Still, Rand appreciated lushness. Or he had until very recently.
“How can we entertain you this evening?” Marilyn asked, her smile guileless but her eyes shrewd, almost artful. The fact that she let him see her calculation was not a choice on her part, Rand knew. Dani would never have shown her hand so quickly.
Stop thinking about her. He forced himself not to scowl, and when Marilyn lifted her gaze to his and stared at him with open invitation, he waited again for the hard kick of desire, which he’d felt easily a dozen times with this experienced, lovely woman.
Still nothing.
Shit.
He needed to put things back in perspective. He’d slept with more women than he could count—had deliberately stopped counting, actually, a long time ago. Since his early teens, he’d been an irresistible lure for most women he’d encountered, his looks hooking those that his money hadn’t already ensnared, and his money keeping everyone around for as long as they could manage it. They’d come at him from all directions, as interchangeable as music on a playlist, and he seldom felt the need to enjoy the same song twice. His lifestyle was dangerous, but the risks had always been manageable. No one touched him very deeply, and that was the way he preferred it. These last few months had been particularly stressful, with his brother imploding from the campaign stress and his sister trying to dive-bomb his schedule, so that alone could explain his unusual desire for Dani. She was beautiful as well—he’d have to be an idiot not to savor the exotic fierceness of her, the live wire of her sensibilities, the feeling that she was an explosion held at bay only by a short and fraying fuse.
But he was also the one who was supposed to be controlling that fuse. So how come he couldn’t get her out of his mind?
He smiled determinedly at Marilyn, allowing her to move with him into the crowd, no doubt heading to one of the VIP alcoves that she would have set aside for extra-special guests. At this club, VIP didn’t mean a room closed off from the world in the back, but merely a plush seating area with food, drink, and gracious service. But the club was only steps away from some of the most expensive hotels in Boston, which definitely would have rooms available for the night, if needed.
They passed through the alternating bright lights and shadows of the club, Marilyn weaving her way slowly, her body a study in fluid grace in her clingy silver dress. With her graceful sweep of auburn hair, porcelain skin, wide, easy smile, and large green eyes, she was as different from Dani as Rand could hope to get. Gentle where Dani was harsh, sunny where Dani was fierce, accommodating where Dani fought him—fought herself—every step of the way. With this woman, there would be no pushback, no furious glare as the battle between need and self-preservation was waged behind dark, smoky eyes. There would be no hard nos.
There would only be an easy yes.
And yet…
“Rand! I’d no idea you would be here tonight. Where have you been hiding yourself?”
Rand looked up sharply at the strong, masculine voice carrying over the club’s thrumming bass. Relief flooded through him so sharply he didn’t have to fake the genuine good cheer in his voice as he clapped his hand on the shoulder of one of the least annoying—and not coincidentally, youngest—members of his family’s social set.
“Bill! It’s been too long.”
Rand offered Marilyn an apologetic smile, but she laughed as well, too good at her job to truly care whether he bedded her or not this night—and having no idea that her not inconsiderable assets had left him cold.
Then he allowed Bill to draw him into his crowd of rich and beautiful friends, a crowd he should feel a part of—had felt a part of often enough, at least before the night he’d walked into that blasted Boylston Street art gallery.
Drinks were poured all around, and Rand raised his glass high. This was good. This was right. He needed to get his head clear of Dani, and then he’d summon her again on his own terms.
And the next time he had her in his arms, her soul about to break, he wouldn’t hesitate.