Total Temptation (7 page)

His arms closed around her, and she rested against his chest. She'd made quite a habit of this in the last few hours—tucking her head under his chin and feeling his heart slow down under her palm. Slowly, the real world intruded. The feel of tiles under her feet and the sprays of water against her shoulders and back.

“Good thing the hot water didn't run out,” she said.

“The club has an unlimited supply,” he said. “For obvious reasons.”

She ran her arms around his waist and hugged him. “So, is there anything you can't do?”

“I'm not much of a bowler.”

“What a relief. I was afraid you might be perfect.”

“I'm not the perfect man for you, princess. You deserve better,” he said.

She glanced up at him. He wore a wistful, almost sad expression, his gaze not focusing in the here and now. It was the first sign of vulnerability he'd given her. The first indication that he had more to him than good times and laughs.

“I can't imagine anyone better than you, Bobby,” she said.

“Sure you can,” he said. “You'll meet someone like that as soon as you let yourself. Lots of someones like that.”

“I don't think so.”

“Well, hey . . . looks like the post-sex glow got to me. Forget I said anything.”

“Okay.” She wouldn't, though. He meant more than a simple roll in the hay. Or several rolls in the hay, none of them simple.

“You know what I need?” he said.

She grinned up at him. “I bet it isn't more sex.”

“Not for the next few minutes,” he said. “Right now, I need food. Protein.”

“You just ate a full meal.” Some of it off very interesting places on her body.

“Yeah, but you made me work it off.”

“I forced you, huh?”

“Damned straight. You're”—he bent his lips to her ear—“insatiable.”

His breath tickled, and she giggled. She could do that a lot with this man. She could do many things with this man that didn't fit into her real life. Nothing here at Club Ecstasy was real, and yet this place mattered in ways the outside world didn't.

“Come on.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her out of the shower. “Let's get something to eat.”

Chapter Four

T
HEY ATE IN
a private room in Club Ecstasy's spa. Bobby had declared the place too “woo-woo” and suggested the main restaurant, but Cassandra insisted on the privacy. They ended up in a setting reminiscent of a rain forest with ferns growing under recessed lighting and a floor-to-ceiling waterfall spilling into a pool with ornamental carp.

Bobby scowled as he studied the menu. “This is all bird food.”

“How long have you worked at the club?” Cassandra asked.

“About three months.”

“And you've never eaten here?”

“Not food, if you get my drift,” he said.

She did. She'd been his appetizer about an hour ago up in their suite.

He tapped the end of her nose. “You're doing it again.”

“What?”

“Blushing. When your skin turns pink, it makes your blue eyes sparkle. But what I really like is the expression on your face when I sink my cock into you. Halfway between surprise and ‘fuck yeah!'”

“Don't talk that way.”

“Hey.” He shrugged. “We're alone. Besides, everyone who works here knows what goes on in the rooms.”

“They don't need to hear the details.”

“What are you afraid of, princess?” he asked. “Why the need for such total privacy?”

“I'd think that would be obvious.”

“One, the staff here are sworn to secrecy.” He raised one finger and then followed that with a second. “And two, the clients have to keep each other's secrets or they'd be exposed themselves. Unless . . .” He tipped his chair back onto two legs and studied her for a moment. “Unless you're using me to cheat on someone.”

“Scruples?” she said. “Is that allowed in your business?”

He tipped his chair back down with a thud. “I'm a professional. I do my job.”

“But some things get under your skin.”

“What a woman does with her own relationships is her business. I like to know who I'm dealing with.”

“My husband died,” she said.

For a moment, Bobby's expression turned serious. “I'm sorry.”

“Thank you.”

“You didn't seem the type to cheat.”

“Thank goodness for that,” she said. “I wish you could convince my stepsons.”

“Little kids don't understand cheating. Not that kind, anyway.”

Here it came. The moment she'd have to explain her life to him. She could simply tell him she didn't want to share personal information, but that would sound strange given all the very personal things they'd done with each other. Instead of saying anything, she studied the menu.

Their waiter appeared and spared her having to answer. Bobby glanced at the menu again and handed it to the man. “Never mind any of this foliage. Ask the kitchen to make me a T-bone steak—very rare—and some of those french fries.

“The
pommes frites
?” the waiter asked.

“Yeah, those.”

“I'll have the poached halibut with quinoa and a small green salad with vinaigrette on the side.” Cassandra handed her menu to the waiter a bit more gently than Bobby had.

When the waiter left, Bobby leaned toward her, his elbows on the table. “So tell me, what's so frightening about your stepsons?”

“Well, you see . . .” She might as well tell him everything. If the stepsons managed to take her to court, it would all come out in the press, anyway. “They aren't little kids. One of them is older than me.”

“How did that happen?”

“The usual way.” She waved her hand in what ought to be a casual gesture. “Children by a previous wife.”

“No, princess. How is it you married a man who already had kids when you were born?”

Put that way, her relationship with Howard sounded really ugly, as if he'd picked out a wife from the bassinette next to his son's in the hospital. The marriage hadn't felt that way on their wedding day, but the age difference had reared its ugly head later. And how.

“He was much older than me,” she said.

“I'd say.”

She glared at Bobby, or did her best to, anyway. “He was a friend of my family. Everyone agreed we'd make a good match.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You needn't disapprove,” she said. “It's not your business.”

“You got that right.” He leaned back and stared at the waterfall. Under the table, his foot was wagging.

He could pry all he wanted. Her life outside Club Ecstasy wasn't his business.

Their food arrived. The waiter put the plates down in front of them and left again. The halibut looked wonderful, garnished with tiny vegetables and sitting on top of a small serving of quinoa. Because this was spa cuisine, the sauce dotted around the plate was no doubt a vegetable puree and wouldn't ruin her diet.

Bobby tore into his steak as if he hadn't eaten in days. He didn't speak as he cut off hunks of rare beef, stuffed them into his mouth, and chewed. After a bit, he put down his fork and knife and wiped his lips with his napkin. “So, client, what would you like to do next?”

“You don't have to get pissy.”

“I'm not. I don't get paid to get pissy.” He picked up a french fry and held it up toward her mouth. She took it and set it on her plate.

“All right. I thought marrying Howard was good idea, too. What did I know about anything? I was a virgin.”

“So, they married you off,” he said. “I didn't think we did that in the twenty-first century.”

“It wasn't as bad as it sounds. Howard was a good husband. He did his best.”

“But he never rocked your world, did he, princess?” He reached over and stroked the side of her face.

“I had orgasms.” That wasn't a lie. Her marriage hadn't failed utterly in the bedroom.

“Like the ones I give you?”

She glanced downward. “No.”

“Then he never rocked your world.”

“Do we have to talk about this?” She pushed her plate away, the food nearly untouched.

“I want to understand what makes you the way you are.” The glint returned to his eyes. “All the better to serve you.”

“No, I want to know about you,” she said. “Besides East Fourteenth Street. There must be more to you than that.”

“Nope. Deep down, I'm really a shallow guy.”

She glared at him for a long moment. Either that or calling bullshit.

“Okay,” he said. “What do you want to know?”

“Family. Brothers and sisters. That sort of thing.”

He drummed his fingers on the table. “Just my mom and me. My father took off before I was born.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

“I didn't mean it that way.”

“Yeah, I know.” He got up and paced across to the artificial waterfall. “She worked three jobs to take care of me, and I spent most of my time raising hell.”

“Is that why you told me I'd find a better man than you?” He'd said lots of better men.

His head snapped around. “I said that?”

“In the shower.”

“Post-fuck vulnerability. It'll get you every time.” He went back to staring at the water as it cascaded over the rocks at the bottom of the falls. “I'm making it up to her, though.”

“Your mom?”

“With the money I make here, I'm putting her through college. She always wanted that.”

“That's great,” Cassandra said. “What's she studying?”

“Paleontology. What the hell's she going to do with that?” he said. “Makes her happy, though.”

With college costs what they were today, he probably didn't have much left to live on himself. She couldn't help but remember all the money that had shown up regularly in her checking account as long as she'd kept her grades up.

“Maybe when she's finished, I'll go, too,” he said.

“I can see that.”

He turned to her and smiled, the self-assured Bobby back in place. “Well, visualize that all you want, but let's get out of this place. If I stay here any longer, someone will have me eating twigs.”

She laughed. “I doubt that.”

“You never know with woo-woo types. They read auras and delve into past lives and other crap like that.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“How about the gym?” Again he took her hand and tugged her off to somewhere new. And again she allowed him to do it.

B
OBBY EMPTIED THE
gym of the rest of the men using it before he brought her inside. She peeked around a corner as they passed. All of them were amazing specimens in exercise shorts, some wearing tank tops and others bare-chested. Different races, heights, and hair colors, but each with a perfectly sculpted body. To think, a woman could have any one of them at the right price.

She wouldn't have any of them, though. She already had her perfect partner. After a few minutes, Bobby appeared in the hallway. “All clear. Come on inside.”

The place fairly oozed male hormones. There was nothing woo-woo or frou-frou about the equipment. Though state of the art, the machines came in a utilitarian design. They had their own beauty, perhaps, but only insofar as the symmetry served a purpose: namely to beef people up and slim them down. Body sculpture.

Bobby selected a pair of barbells and sat on a bench to do biceps curls. “So, tell me about the stepsons.”

He probably assumed she didn't know her way around a gym. Wrong. She worked out at least three days a week. Usually five or six. “I don't suppose there's anything here a woman can wear to exercise.”

“Suppose. Try looking over there.” He nodded toward a nearby counter with drawers beneath. “You can change in the women's locker room just in case one of the guys comes in by mistake.”

“Do the clients use this gym?”

“The ones who aren't afraid of their own shadows do,” he said.

She'd object, but she couldn't deny the fact that Bobby had had to chase the men out of their gym so one skittish woman could use it.

“The clients and the men come in here to work out together.” He continued lifting the huge barbells, causing his biceps to bulge. “Makes for some interesting activities in the showers.”

She was hardly one to talk about doing the nasty in a shower. She selected a pair of shorts and tank top from one of the drawers and headed toward the locker room. Once inside, she checked around carefully for people who might have been left behind. When she found no one, she changed quickly and rejoined Bobby.

He scanned her head to toe. “You almost look like you know what you're doing.”

“I do.” She got onto one of the treadmills and set it for her favorite routine. After the workout Bobby had given her, she ought to feel exhausted. Instead, she was full of energy, almost vibrating with it.

Could this feeling be nothing more than happiness? Really? She'd had an ideal childhood with loving parents and every advantage. She'd had the perfect wedding, a dream of a honeymoon, and a marriage with everything a woman could want. Well, almost everything. She'd been happy her entire life, hadn't she?

The treadmill picked up speed and tipped upward as she climbed the first artificial hill. Her body took over, falling into the rhythm of strides and breathing. The exertion always shut down the bothersome voices in her mind—everything from the trivial to-do lists to memories of Howard's death to hostile legal documents from the stepsons' lawyers. She could so easily run full-out, rejoicing in the movement, but she'd pace herself instead, so she could enjoy the entire cycle.

Bobby set down his barbell and walked over to the front of the treadmill. For a moment, he watched her, his arms crossed over his chest. Then a grin spread slowly over his face. “That's pretty fast running, princess.”