Delicious (7 page)

ALYSSA was still furious six hours later as she pounded on the punching bag hanging from the ceiling in her spare bedroom. With a grunt, she kicked it once, twice, then followed with a mean right hook.

What was Luc thinking? She’d offered herself to him—something she never did for any man—and he’d self-pleasured in the shower. Of course he thought she offered herself to anyone with a Y chromosome and didn’t understand that she’d invited him alone because he was special, because she thought . . . maybe there was something more between them than fabulous sex.

Stupid.

Another kick, another punch. Sweat rolled down her body. It wasn’t relieving her tension.

Before she’d guilted Luc into staying, he’d mentioned that he was dating someone else. The thought of him with another woman made her stomach tighten. Insecurity blindsided her. Was Luc sleeping with this woman? Did he want his new girlfriend more than he wanted her? Was he, God forbid, in
love
with her?

She had to know. Throwing herself at a man whose heart belonged to someone else was both pointless and embarrassing. For a while, she’d been sure Kimber was it for him, but then Deke had married her. Then Alyssa had heard through the grapevine that Luc’s involvement with the couple was over, and she’d had fresh hope. Now . . . she didn’t know what to think.

Lying on the table against the window, her cell phone rang shrilly. With one last punch of the bag, she stepped across the room, tore off a glove, then grabbed it. The display told her it was Tyler.

“Hey, I was just thinking about you.”

“Yeah?” He sounded really happy about that.

“Punching the hell out of my bag and pretending it’s your head,” she teased.

“Funny,” he intoned. “Look, I know it’s early, but you should come to the club.”

Alyssa froze. “What happened?”

Tyler hesitated—something he never did. That man was as straight up as they came. She trusted him with her life, so when he hedged, it couldn’t be good.

“Just come to the club,” he said finally.

Something was absolutely wrong. “Shit. Give me an hour?”

“The sooner, the better.”

She hung up, cursing as she made her way out of her exercise room and into the hall. She ran smack into Luc.

“Sorry.” She backed away from him. It was either that or jump on him. She hadn’t had the pleasure of “the morning after” last time, and Alyssa took one look at him, hair softly rumpled, eyes slumberous, and realized she’d missed something spectacular.

Her blood heated all over again.

“Good morning.”

The words were polite . . . but lacked the passion she wanted to hear when he said those words, his head on the pillow beside her, just before he kissed her thoroughly and they welcomed the day together with pleasure.

Wasn’t happening. Grimly, she remembered last night. Rather than depress herself again, she shook the thought away.

“Yeah. I have to run, grab a shower.” She held up her phone. “Tyler called. I told him I’d be there in an hour. If you need more time to get ready, I’ll have him pick me up.”

“I’ll take you.”

“It’s no problem for him to—”

“I said, I’ll take you,” he snapped, his stare roaming her flushed face and sweat-damp T-shirt.

Was he still pissed about last night or was this about Tyler?

“Fine. I’ll meet you in the kitchen in thirty.”

She spun away, wanting the sanctuary of her bedroom, the privacy of a shut door so she didn’t have to shut away the pain of his rejection.

Luc grabbed her arm and held her back. “About last night . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spy on you. The open door was—”

“Not an invitation,” she lied. The truth would just get his back up. “Just like the guest bathroom door not locking properly, my bedroom door doesn’t shut all the way. It’s an old house. But I appreciate the apology. I’m sorry, too, for barging in during your shower. I only meant to make sure you had a towel and . . .”

He grimaced. “Look, I’m not going to lie. We share amazing chemistry. You turn me on more than anyone ever has.”

Luc didn’t look at all happy about that fact.

“But you’re not into
me
, just my body. Got it.” And it hurt like hell.

His grip on her arm tightened. “That’s not it. Yesterday, I discovered great qualities I didn’t know you possessed.” He sighed, raked a hand through his long hair. “It’s that . . . what I want isn’t what I need. So if I’m cranky and irritable this week, it’s because you have me tied up in a thousand sexual knots, and I’m trying to do the right thing.”

The right thing being not having sex with her.

Did Luc think it was impossible to have an emotional attachment to someone who owned a club where women took off their clothes? Whatever. She still wanted him. Wanted him to want her. Burn for her. Because everything inside her yearned for Luc, his sultry smile, his talent, the way he’d made her feel more special in one night than any man ever had. She wasn’t willing to give up.

“Does this have something to do with the woman you’re seeing?”

“Yes.”

Damn, how could one word hurt so much?

“If you picked her, I’m sure she’s a great girl.” She tugged her arm free. “I’d better get ready.”

As she darted down the hall, Luc gave chase and pushed her against the shadowed wall. “She is. And that’s not a reflection on you. You’re just different.”

In other words, she’s not a stripper
.

“Sure. Fine. See you downstairs in thirty minutes.” She eased out from between the wall and his hard body, all but running to her bedroom, and slammed the door.

Once inside the bathroom, she shut that door—locked it—then leaned against it. And closed her eyes as tears spilled. She swiped them away with an angry fist.

Fucking hopeless. She sucked at relationships. No, strike that. She’d never really had one. From age fifteen on, her life had been a struggle to make ends meet, put food in her belly and a roof over her head. She’d learned how to read people over the years, but not in a romantic capacity. As far as she could tell, Luc was being honest with her. There was someone else he thought was better for him.

How the hell did she compete with that? Should she even try? Probably not, but something inside her kept screaming that she needed him.

Luc admitted to wanting her more than anyone. It was a start. Maybe they had more than great chemistry, and this was his body’s way of saying so. It was possible this other woman was “better” for him because Luc
knew
her. With just one hot night between them, Alyssa realized he wasn’t familiar with her as a person.

She needed to keep enticing him; that was a given. Using her advantage was critical. But she also needed to let him really know her. Not easy for her, letting down her walls. Trust in general was an expensive luxury—and a foolish one. But unless she wanted to lose Luc to this better-than-her bitch, Alyssa must figure out how to let him deep inside more than just her body.

THE silence in the SUV was choking. Alyssa kept biting her lower lip. Her sunglasses protected against the morning glare—and prevented Luc from reading her expression.

Whatever she was thinking shouldn’t matter. But it did. Though she’d betrayed almost no emotion when he’d mentioned his relationship with Emily, he suspected that the words hurt. And he felt like shit. He wanted to say something . . . but why? He was leaving in six days and would probably never see Alyssa Devereaux again. It was better this way.

Except . . . she’d worn another short skirt—white with some curlicue pattern on it—and black garters. Her sheer black hose with a sexy seam down the back nearly made him swallow his tongue. The red shoes were pure fuck-me, as was the matching tank top that hugged her generous breasts and trim waist.

Right now he couldn’t even remember what Emily looked like. And he was pretty sure that in the face of someone stabbing “whore” into her driver’s seat, she would scream hysterically and cry.

Luc swore under his breath.

“With your job, you must have traveled all over the world,” Alyssa offered.

As he cruised to a red light and stopped, he looked her way. She’d pondered a long time before asking him
that
question. Where was this going? “Yes.”

“What’s your favorite place?”

“You’re seriously asking me about travel?”
Not our chat in the hallway?

She bristled, eased back in her seat, looked away. “Just making conversation.”

But why? She wasn’t a talk-for-talk’s-sake sort of woman.

“And you really want my thoughts on travel? Nothing else?”

“Never mind.” Alyssa turned her head to look out the passenger window.

He winced. Maybe she’d extended an olive branch to show that she had no hard feelings. If so, he’d just squashed her offering without thought. He couldn’t afford to be sexual with her—but he didn’t have to be unkind.

“Barbados. I like warm weather. Their beaches are gorgeous. Swimming with the turtles is mind-blowing.”

No reply.

“I went to culinary school in Paris. It’s a great city. Winters are a bit too cold for me. But there’s nothing like the street corner cafés and the culture.”

She sent him a tight smile. “I’ll take your word for it.”

When she turned away again, he frowned. What did that mean? Travel conversation was suddenly boring . . . or that she hadn’t been to Paris. The truth hit, and he sent her a lingering stare before traffic forced his attention again. How often did strippers travel overseas, especially ones who owned their own clubs? And now she had her savings tied up in Bonheur.

So why had she started this conversation? He didn’t think it had anything to do with travel, really. Was she trying to get to know him?

After the way he had fucked her blind, left her, apologized with impersonal flowers, and distanced himself from her again just minutes ago, she could have been a raving bitch. Most women would have. Alyssa had simply asked a question.

Now he found himself intensely curious about the sexpot on his right.

“Tell me something about you,” he demanded softly.

She shrugged, straight platinum hair sliding across her small shoulders. “You know the pertinent facts. I’m twenty-nine and opening a restaurant.”

“You’re a bit deeper than that. Did you grow up in Louisiana?”

Her gaze whipped to her lap suddenly. She bit her lip, looking pensive. “No. You grow up in Texas?”

He shook his head. “Clearwater Beach, Florida. You didn’t say where you were from.”

“I didn’t,” she agreed.

Luc wanted to pry more, but they’d arrived at the club. And he knew a closed subject when he heard one. Why the hell didn’t she want to talk about her hometown?

As soon as he put the car in park, Alyssa jumped, race-walking for the club’s back door. The late-morning sun glared on the chipped black surface, framing Tyler. The bouncer looked tense. He glared when he caught sight of Luc.

“What’s going on?” she asked him as she approached and tried to brush past him.

Tyler grabbed her arms and pulled her against his body. Then he cupped her face in his hand, his mouth hovering a breath above hers.

Everything inside Luc railed at the sight. His mind screamed an order for Tyler to take his hands off Alyssa. Two facts hit him: First, she wasn’t Luc’s, so he had no say in who touched her. Second, she wasn’t fighting Tyler in the least.

He whispered something Luc couldn’t hear. In return, she nodded anxiously. Tyler hesitated, kissed her forehead, then took hold of her hand and reached for the door.

“What’s going on?” he asked the bouncer.

Tyler glared at him over his shoulder. “I’m responsible for her safety, and I take it very seriously. Go back to your fryalator.”

If he’d had any less control over his temper, Luc would have charged the bastard, despite the fact Tyler outweighed him by thirty pounds of muscle. Luc was sure he would have gotten in at least a few good swipes. But why give the asshole what he wanted?

“You give up your stand-up routine because you sucked?”

Alyssa jumped in between them, anger tightening her face. “Could you two stop it? Luc, someone broke into the club between last night’s close and Tyler’s arrival at ten this morning.”

Luc went dead cold inside. Pure coincidence that someone had stabbed her seat with a knife, then her club had been broken into mere hours—or minutes—later? He’d spent enough time with Jack and Cousin Deke. Coincidences made them uncomfortable, and Luc agreed.

“They barged in through an upstairs window. Remy and the boys came over, but so far it doesn’t look like anything was taken. Tyler is trying to figure out how someone bypassed the security system. I’ll have to call Jack and have him figure it out.”

“Deke told me that Jack and Morgan are visiting her mother in California,” Luc supplied.