4

“And did he expect you to blow him after your shift?”

“No. I thought that was what he was about, but…” What had he

wanted? He’d seemed so into me, or had I imagined that, swayed by my

own intense desire for him? “I don’t know. He left without trying anything.”

I’d meant to scare him off, but that hadn’t seemed to be the reason he left.

“It was…odd.”

“Midnight masturbation material?”

“I’ll never tell.”

“Your face says it all.”

Over the past week, he had entered my thoughts, wearing decidedly less

than he had when I’d seen him at the bar. And while sexual fantasies were

innocent enough for most people, thinking too much about any guy was

never good for me and Liesl knew it. But I didn’t need her lecture. As long

as I didn’t see him again—and chances were slim that I would—I’d be fine.

I moved to straightening things on the counter that didn’t need to be

straightened and changed the subject. “So the new owner…you’ve met

him? What’s he like?”

Liesl shrugged. “He’s all right. Younger than you’d imagine. Like,

twenty-seven or twenty-eight. Fucking rich. He’s insane about clean-up,

though. We’ve been calling him the Bar Nazi. He inspects everything,

wiping his finger on the counters to make sure they’re clean, like he’s got

OCD or something. Oh, and talk about masturbation material, he’s

psychotically hot.”

Liesl thought any guy with a fat wallet who still had his hair was hot, so

her statement didn’t say much. But the Bar Nazi remark made me smile.

The staff had been lax on cleaning standards for some time and could do

with some tough love. At least, that’s what I’d say if I were a manager. It

gave me hope that the new owner and I might get along just fine.

I wondered about the man who finally ponied up the unreasonable

asking price for the club. Not that The Sky Launch couldn’t be worth it, but

it needed some serious overhaul to stand out in the sea of New York City

clubs. Would the new owner see the place’s potential? How hands-on would

he be? Would he leave the business under David’s control?

“You’ll meet him tonight.” Liesl ran her barbell across her lower lip. “I

guess he’s a big deal in the business world. You’ve probably heard of him—

Houston Piers or something like that.”

My jaw dropped. “Do you mean Hudson Pierce?” I waited while she

nodded. “Liesl, Hudson Pierce is only the most successful business man

under thirty in America. He’s like a god in that world.” Hudson had been

born into wealth with modern day Rockefellers for parents. The eldest son,

he’d expanded the Pierce wealth tenfold. As a business student I’d been

intrigued with a number of his dealings.

“You know I’m not into all that Who’s Who bullshit.” Liesl straightened

to her full five-foot-ten plus three-inch heels height. “Though I wouldn’t be

surprised if he’s on the Top Ten of, like, every Hottest-slash-Sexiest-slashMost-Beautiful list in the world.”

I bit my lip trying to conjure up an image of him in my head. I’d

probably seen a picture of him somewhere, but I couldn’t for the life of me

remember what he looked like. I generally didn’t pay attention to those

things. But something tugged at the edges of my brain, something I couldn’t

quite grasp. A connection my mind was failing to make.

“Anyway,” Liesl said, leaning back against the counter, “I think he’s

around. I saw him go into the offices earlier when you were grabbing

napkins from storage.”

I nodded, not sure if I was thrilled to meet Hudson Pierce or not. Part of

me wanted to fan girl all over one or two of his more famous corporate

decisions. And bouncing ideas off of him could be thrilling.

Or terrifying. What if I had nothing to suggest that he hadn’t already

thought of? Hudson Pierce didn’t need my lame ideas to help him make the

club thrive.

Unless he wasn’t planning to be involved with the business.

But why would he buy the club if he didn’t intend on being involved? In

which case…

Crap. Before my visions of the future I desired went poof in my

overactive imagination, I needed to meet Pierce and feel him out, whether I

was intimidated or not.

I took several inconspicuous calming breaths then returned my focus to

stocking the bar. Concentrating on my task, I pulsed absentmindedly to the

techno strains that streamed over the sound system and let go of all my

worries.

The music wasn’t on normal business volume—we could talk

comfortably without raising our voices—but it was loud enough that I

didn’t hear the office door open to the left of the bar. That’s why I didn’t

notice Hudson at first. My back was to him and my gaze fixed above me as

I reached for the Tequila Gold on the upper bar shelf. Even after I’d

retrieved the bottle and turned around, my eyes first found David’s. He

scanned me from head to toe and I smiled, pleased that my tightly fitted

corset hadn’t gone unnoticed. He was the reason I’d worn the damn thing. I

could barely breathe under its vice-like grip. But for the searing look he

gave me, it was worth it, heating me to low simmer in the arousal

department.

Then I met Hudson’s stare and two things happened simultaneously.

First, my arousal went full boil. Second, my brain finally made the

connection it had missed before. Hudson Pierce was the suit.

Without meaning to, I scanned his body. The full view of him was even

hotter, especially in the better lighting. Again he wore a suit, two-piece this

time, a light gray that I’d almost call silver. It fit his lean body in such a

sexual way that it felt obscene to look at him.

When my eyes made it to his face—his strong jaw, even more

pronounced than I’d remembered, begging to be licked and kissed and

nibbled—I found he was checking me out as well. The knowledge of this

made my already warm face flush deeper. Though his gaze wasn’t as

intense as it had been when I’d first met him, his pull was just as strong,

and I knew—absolutely unequivocally knew—that he desired me as much

as I desired him.

David spoke first, his words coming at me through a haze, barely

registering. “This is Laynie.” I suspected his eyes hadn’t left my bosom.

“Um, Alayna Withers, I mean.” Normally I’d be ecstatic that I had him so

mixed-up and that his pants were visibly straining, but I was thrown by the

new owner. More precisely, by how insanely he affected me.

“Hudson Pierce.” Hudson’s smooth, low murmur had me clenching my

thighs together, my panties pooling with moisture. And if I thought he’d

claimed me with his eyes the night we’d met, the surge that ran through me

as he shook my hand deepened his possession. Almost like an invisible

handcuff reaching out to bind me to him permanently. “Good to meet you

properly, Ms. Withers.”

“Alayna,” I corrected, surprised at the low ache in my voice. “Or

Laynie.”

He dropped my hand, but his touch lingered on my skin, in my veins.