She pulled a keychain from her pocket and unlocked her office door. He hadn’t been inside Mavis’s office in a few months, but the over-crowded, cluttered space had been gutted and sanitized. It no longer stank of the cigarettes Mavis chain-smoked, despite club rules. The stacks of old magazines and faded newspapers had been cleared. Gone was the putrid yellow sofa with so many cigarette burns he couldn’t believe the joint hadn’t gone up in flames.
The clunky metal desk once covered in debris, and the rickety, unstable chair he was convinced would crack under Mavis’s weight, had been replaced with a sleek glass desk and a mesh chair. The sticky slate flooring had been cleaned and polished, removing the layer of god-knows-what that crunched beneath his feet.
The office haduptightwritten all over it in invisible ink.
Flanking the desk and positioned like interrogation lights stood two steel floor lamps with octopus arms sticking out in haphazard directions.
A fresh coat of paint covered the once peeling walls. Was that taupe? No, more like a muted gray.That’s upbeat.
With a titty jiggle that lit his insides on fire, she sauntered over to the credenza that was once piled high with Mavis’s crap and tapped a keyboard. The six monitors mounted on the back wall went dark…the ones that displayed live surveillance video from inside and outside the club. He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and groan.Whatever happened to a little damn privacy?
She sat behind the desk and, suddenly, this hard-assed woman looked uncomfortable, like the slick digs didn’t jibe. Would Mavis’s mess have been more to her liking? With her jaw set in a hard line, she looked like she was about to hold court.
Cementing his gaze on hers, he sipped the ice-cold sparkling water, then sat on the sofa arm. Instant mistake. The thin, metal sunk into his ass crack like quicksand, so he moved to the ultra-modern chair across from her desk. This one felt like a slab of cement.My poor ass.
But it afforded him the perfect view. Maybe a glass desk was the way to go. He had an unobstructed view of everything from her toned thighs down to her shiny black toenail polish. In the five seconds he stole to check her out, he gained a whole new appreciation for ultra-modern furniture. He fucking loved it.
With less than ten minutes to get his ass back to that room, he pinned her with an ardent stare. “You got a name?”
Her gaze floated across his face, lingered on his chest and torso, then meandered back to his eyes. “Providence.”
This time, he couldn’t hide his smile. “Like, Rhode Island?”
“Providence means divine guidance and care.” She leaned back and crossed her arms. Besides hoisting her phenomenal breasts onto a makeshift platter, her body language screamed closed-off. He’d have her spread eagle and loving every submissive minute before he was done with her.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve trashing my name when you’re named after a state.” He couldn’t miss the gleam in her eyes. She liked messing with him.
“Touché.” He steeled his spine. Enough small talk. “What’s the problem?”
She leaned forward and dammit if he didn’t look at her cleavage. Fuck his dick. He couldn’t control himself. And it was worth the eye scolding he was getting.
“Besides having a key to the building, that I’m going to confiscate, you and your idiot friends owe this club a cool million. You want to explain yourself, Mr. Luck.”
“I’d be happy to.” He took a mouthful of water and swallowed it down. “When the club traded hands and the current owner bought it, I negotiated a deal that provided me andmyidiotfriendswith lifetime L3 memberships at no cost.”
She pushed out of her chair and sashayed around the desk, sandwiching herself between it and him. Holding out her hand, she said, “May I?” Before he could figure out what she wanted, she took the drink and tossed back a mouthful. And then she placed the glass against her chest. His gaze hung hungrily where that lowball rested. She was doing an incredible job of teasing him. And he was loving every damn minute of her mind fuck.
When she removed it, beads of condensation rolled between her breasts and vanished where he wanted to place his dick.
He started to harden and he crossed his legs to hide his burgeoning bulge.
She’d eaten up seven minutes and all he’d gotten out of their conversation was a fantasy to jerk off to. This Providence chick was starting to get on his nerves.
“I don’t care about your negotiations,” she said. “As the new GM, I’m all about the bottom line. You and your poker pals arenotgetting a free pass.” She shrugged. “If you don’t like my rules, take your games and your kink elsewhere.”
Her office door flew open. With lightning speed, Dakota grabbed the Glock strapped to his ankle and stood, taking aim at the intruder.
“You fucking shoot me and I’ll be so damn pissed,” Stryker said.
On an exhale, Dakota returned the weapon to its holster. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”
Stryker Truman laughed. “Yeah, man,thatI know. And you’re fucking crazy to pull a gun on me at my own club.” His dark brown hair touched his shoulders. Ten days ago, Stryker was clean-shaven. Tonight, he had a scruffy beard. The men stood almost eye-to-eye.
“You look good, bro,” Dakota said. “If you’re trying to look like Sasquatch, mission accomplished.”
Chuckling, Stryker slapped Dakota on the back before kissing Providence’s forehead. The fire in her eyes and the hardness around her mouth vanished. Her smile, though brief, halted Dakota’s breath. She had the ability to stop a locomotive with that smile. This hard-ass gatekeeper was fucking beautiful.
“You’ve been giving my boys a hard time?” Stryker asked.
