A Night With Knox (8 page)

But I can’t abide dishonesty, not even from a one-night stand.
Like I said: there are standards.

“Your date’s not doing it for you?” I say, nodding
at Grey Suit who’s now standing by the door where people are
starting to exit. It must be after two a.m. by now and a weeknight,
which means most of these people are six hours away from clocking in
at the office tomorrow. Thrill seekers by night, executive decision
makers by day, that’s a lot of our audience, and even though
I’ve never been able to tolerate living that kind of rigid,
conventional lifestyle for myself, their money’s just as good
as anyone else’s. They may even have a greater appreciation for
the brawls, since bare-knuckles fighting is a far cry from whatever
uptight Fortune 500 company or corporate law firm they work at.

She glances at Grey Suit, then turns back to me. “He’s
okay,” she says. That pretty mouth of hers widens. Despite the
darkness of the warehouse, her teeth gleam like white stones. “But
you’re Ryder Cole.” She runs her hand lightly over my
arm. “And I’m willing.”

My bicep belies my intention to be behave, contracting instinctively
as her fingers linger on my suit sleeve. “To do what?”

“Anything you want.”

I lean close to her. “I want you to go home with the guy that
brought you and fuck his brains out like a good girl,” I say.
“But you can think about me while you’re doing it.”

I cross to where Tyler waits by the door. Security will close up.
We’ve got business to attend to.

What happens next? Discover the rest of the story in
HARD
.

Available now
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Read on for a sneak peek at Eve Jagger’s
Cash–Available now
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Cash

There are two things in life that need
to be handled with care: cocktails and women. Push a woman too far
and you’ll end up stuck outside in nothing but your boxers—take
my word for it, it’s not pretty. Shake a cocktail too hard and
you kill the flavor. But when it all comes together, it’s magic
in my very capable hands.

Altitude is packed, but it’s been
this way since we opened. The long bar spreads out before me and the
crowd gathers, ready for a show. I fell into tending bar as a way to
put myself through school and even after four years of grade-A
education, I’d still rather shake, stir, and muddle my way
through life.

The bottles fit easily in my hands as I
measure out rum and lime juice. The woman across from me wears a blue
dress that she might have had painted on, and the gold chain around
her neck leads the eye straight to her
assets
.
I give her a winning smile that’s been proven to melt more than
one heart.

To all the men in the bar: I’m
not sorry, but her attention’s on me.

She twirls a piece of a hair around her
finger and I can imagine what it’d look like spread out on my
bed. Straining the cocktail into a glass, I reach for the garnish but
Blue Dress Beauty is already reaching for her drink. I grab her
wrist. Under my fingers her pulse jumps and I meet her eyes. This one
is definitely ready to play. She gives me a wink.

“Not done yet,” I say,
releasing her.

“I don’t
know if I can wait.”

“Oh, I think you can. You’re
gonna enjoy this,” I tell her, my voice low and deep. I grab a
fresh sprig of mint and tear off some leaves, keeping eye contact the
whole time.

“What did that mint ever do to
you?” she asks, flirty.

“It’s been very bad.”

She arches an eyebrow at me. “It’s
not the only thing being bad tonight.”

I smack the leaves. “A quick
spank and it releases all the flavor.” I wink, drop the mint
into the drink and present it to her. “Taste it now.”

She tries the drink. Nothing like a
beautiful woman enjoying a perfect cocktail—except perhaps a
woman after sex. I lean in so I can whisper in her ear. “You
see? Better things come to those who wait.”

“And if I’m in a hurry—?”

I’m just about to tell her
exactly what’ll happen if she’s in a hurry when a
masculine voice interrupts my train of thought.

“Traci?”

A guy strolls over. He drapes an arm
around her shoulders, and she rolls her eyes at me and tries to play
him off.

“Nice of you to show up. I was
just getting a drink.” She gives me another wink. A girl like
her could send that man packing in two seconds flat, and I might as
well help her along. My MO doesn’t include backing down from
douchebags like this guy.

The man takes the drink from her and
gulps, “Not bad,” he shrugs. “I’ll have the
same as my girlfriend.” That remark is pointed at me. Hint
taken. I make another drink, and slide it across the bar.

“To those who wait,” the
woman raises her glass. She gives me a suggestive lick of her lips,
the kind of gesture designed to make me think about that mouth
wrapped around my cock.

But it’s too late. Never gonna
happen now, lady. There are enough single women in this bar, and I
don’t go for someone who’s already taken. I get back to
work, until I hear a chuckle.

Jackson is behind the bar, grabbing
some beers.

“Hey, back off, this is my turf,”
I joke. “You build the bars, I serve the booze.”

“Yeah, yeah. Maybe if you weren’t
so busy flirting, I wouldn’t have to get them myself.”

“I can multi-task just fine,”
I shoot back. “But anytime you need lessons with the ladies,
I’ll be happy to help you out. Start with the basics, you know,
save my advanced skills course for later.” I spot a couple of
hot blondes arrive, arm in arm and looking for a good time. “Speaking
of which, double trouble 101, over in the corner.”

Jackson snorts. “Someday, I’ll
enjoy watching someone tie you down.”

“Never gonna happen,” I
say, saluting him with my beer. I take a drink and set it aside. It’s
back into the trenches, and there is nothing like working my way
through a room.

Jackson tosses me another beer and I
grab it, juggling the other two in a move that’s more flash
than technical. The patrons cheer. This is the life. Some guys can be
happy with just one woman, but I figure, why deny the rest of them
the pleasure?

I move through the line of the bar,
mixing drinks and taking names. A brunette with a come-and-fuck-me
smile looks from me to the menu.

“What you want is not on that
menu,” I say, plucking it out of her grasp and easily tossing
it over my shoulder.

“And how do you know that?”

“Because,” I say, grabbing
a bottle of liquor and pouring a steady stream into a shaker full of
ice, “you want to try something new. Something that will help
you let go. And that is why I’m here.”

“To catch me when I fall or help
me let go.” She’s teasing. I’m game.

“Both.”

A quick shake and she watches my arms.
Straining her drink, I slide it across the bar as she scribbles
something on a napkin and slides it across to me. Her number.

“Call me sometime?” she
says, casual.

“Bet on it.” I pocket it
and leave her with her drink and a smile—a smile that says
there’s so much more to come. But later, for now, I’ve
got more thirsty customers to deal with. I serve fast, until a
piercing whistle cuts through the din.

“Oh, barkeep,” a sugary
voice calls. “I’m just about dying of thirst over here.”

I laugh. I know that voice, and trust
me, this girl is more spice than sugar.

“Savannah, baby,” I greet
her with a grin. “What can I do you for tonight?”

She smiles back. “Aren’t
you supposed to tell me? Or are your special powers slipping?”
There’s a note of amusement in her voice. And a challenge.

“Oh, ye of little faith.” I
look her up and down, which is never much of a chore, especially
tonight. She’s wearing a tight navy dress that hugs her curves
and begs to be peeled away slowly – or shoved up fast. Which
means there’s a hot date on the horizon – lucky bastard.
“I know exactly what you need.”

“Funny,” she smirks,
“That’s what all the guys tell me, but somehow, they all
come up short.”

“Not me, sweetheart.” I
tell her, setting down a tumbler and reaching for the whiskey –
the good shit. “When I make you a promise, I always deliver.”

I set the glass in front of her with a
flourish. She gives me a slow clap.

“No thanks needed for the drink,”
I tell her.

“Oh no, that was for the number
burning a hole in your pocket.” She flashes a smirk.

“Savy, as always, your charms are
much appreciated.”

Savannah leans over the drink and then
looks up at me with a critical gaze. “What, no mint? Don’t
tell me I haven’t been a bad girl. But really, does that line
actually work?”

“I’ll have you know that
smacking the mint before adding it to a drink helps to release its
aromatics.”

“That’s a very big word for
you. However do your patrons keep up?” Savannah sips her drink,
and I have to pull my eyes away from the gentle suction of her lush
lips at the rim of the glass. I’ve been warned enough times by
our mutual friends: Savannah is off limits. Nothing wrong with a
little harmless flirting though.

“So who’s the lucky guy
tonight?” I ask. “Better than the last one, I hope?”

“My last date was fine, thank
you,” Savannah says primly.

I grin. “Really? Because from
what I heard, Mr. Slobber could use some pointers.”

“Who told you about—”
Realization dawns, her blue eyes narrowing like a hunter on the
prowl. “Cassie is so dead.”

“Before you murder my friend’s
girl, please explain Picky Eater. I liked that story, too.”

She shoots me a glare and slams back
the rest of her whiskey with a grimace that I can’t help but
find sexy as hell. Most girls who toddle in here on their stilettos
go for wine or a fruity cocktail, but there’s nothing sexier
than a woman who can appreciate her whiskey.

“How much is left in that
bottle?” she asks.

I hold it up. “At least a few
bad decisions, I’d say.”

“Hit me.”

“This isn’t poker, baby,
but if you’re willing to play hold ‘em, I’d be
happy to help you up the ante.”

“And what’s the buy in?”

“Just a night of your time.”
I tease. “It’ll be fantastic. I can guarantee you’ll
be seeing stars by the end.”

Savannah rolls her eyes and nudges the
empty glass toward me across the bar. “Your manwhore tactics
should not be pointed in my direction.”

I lean over the bar and hold her gaze,
“Savy, if I ever try my tactics on you, you’ll beg for it
and say please and thank you when it’s
done.”

She stiffens, her back going beanpole
straight. I’ve gotten under that picture perfect exterior. The
girl can shoot straight whiskey and make a trucker blush with her
language. I lean back. Savannah’s blue eyes are dark and her
lips parted as if she’s searching for a response.

“The word you’re looking
for is: please.”

“Cash?” she asks coyly,
rolling her shoulders slightly to draw attention to her breasts. I
look because if she’s going to put it on display, it would be a
pity to see it wasted.

“Yes.”

“Please...”

“Please what? Use your words,
what do you want?”

“Please refill my glass.”
She pushes her glass toward me.

“We’re going to have to
work on your begging skills,” I laugh.

As I refill her glass I spot a guy who
just walked in: dress shirt, suit, slicked back hair, and loafers.
He’s looking around at the controlled chaos in the bar with a
slight sneer. Attitude for days. He spots Savannah, and starts to
make his way towards us.

That girl has no taste. “You need
to work on your selection skills,” I sigh, nodding to the new
arrival. Savannah waves at him. “What is he, an accountant?”

“Banker,” she corrects me.

I snort. “Sounds stimulating.”

“How would you know? He could be
more than just a pretty face, Cash. Because unlike some people, I’d
actually like to find something…more. Like Cassie and Ryder,”
she adds with a wistful sigh.

Our friends are currently snuggled in
the corner booth, too caught up in each other to notice the world
around them. Ryder cracks himself up in the middle of some story he’s
telling, and Cassie places a hand on his chest, throwing her head
back in an unselfconscious giggle that more than a few men around
them notice. They’re happy together. Really happy.

“Sickening,” I say
cheerfully. “But hey, if Ryder wants to take himself off the
market, I’m more than happy to pick up the slack.”

“Ass.” Savannah gives me a
playful shove and hops down from her stool. “Well, how do I
look?”

“Bun,”
I say, pointing to her head. She pulls out the few pins holding up
her blonde curls and gives them a good fluff, looking like she just
rolled out of bed after a night of great sex.

She takes a final sip of her drink and
pushes it toward me. “Thanks for the liquid courage, but I
think you need it more.”

I’m thrown. “Me? Why?”

“You need to lose this fuck ’n
run attitude. Settle down, find a girl to annoy fulltime. Who knows,
you might like it.”

I roll my eyes. “Sure.
And that banker over there’s going to turn out to be the best
screw of your life. I don’t think so.”

“At
least I’m trying,” Savannah shrugs, and goes to meet him.

The crowd parts for her. Her date
immediately goes for the kiss—wrong move, dude. Savannah turns
at the last second and gives him her cheek. She meets my eyes, and I
can read her so well by now that I catch the meaning behind her gaze
right away: it’s going to be a long night.

I head for the pass, ready to step
in—no reason she needs to keep up with the bottom feeder for
the next few hours. But Ryder steps in front of me when I try to get
out.