Past Midnight (12 page)

But how far did he expect her to take it? She tipped her wrist to look at her watch. Eight thirty. She surveyed the room, her eyes finally landing on a single man seated at a small round table tucked in the back by the piano. Black suit, white shirt, red tie. Dominic. When had he put on the suit? She wondered how long he’d been observing her and why she hadn’t noticed him.

Picking up his glass, he rose, wended through the tables, and took a seat at the bar, leaving one empty chair between them. “Your glass is almost empty. Can I buy you another?”

The bartender watched her from the middle of the counter as he poured two highball glasses. She studied the dregs of her ice wine. “I don’t let men I don’t know buy me drinks.” She eyed Dominic. “But I’ll pay for my own, and you can move over to this stool.” She patted the stool right beside her.

“Why thank you, ma’am.” And Dominic moved in.

She signaled the bartender.

She felt good, powerful, alive. The heat on the inside was all for the game Dominic was making her play.

 

 

HE’D WATCHED HER FOR HALF AN HOUR, SITTING BACK AS SHE ATTRACTED men like a Venus flytrap, gathering them to her, making them salivate for her in that black skirt with the amazing slit up her thigh and a formfitting top that outlined the sweetness of her nipples. She smiled and made her admirers hard. She leaned forward, and they drooled.

They’d driven separately to work, always had. Erin liked the quiet before everyone else arrived. He’d nipped home in the afternoon to fetch his rarely used suit—he figured it would add a nice touch to the evening—then changed after she left for the day. He’d gotten to Rudolpho’s before she did so he could choose an out-of-the-way table. Cheesy as it sounded, he’d held up an appetizer menu to cover his face when she’d first taken a seat at the bar. He’d gotten hard watching her antics, flirting with the bartender, crossing her legs to show off her thighs.

The bartender brought her a fresh glass of wine, pushed it across the bar with two fingertips on its base. He watched her with dark, assessing eyes, his glance flashing to Dominic, then back. “Shall I run you a tab?” he asked.

“That would be wonderful.” She graced him with a slow, sultry smile. “Thank you.”

The guy backed off when a man four seats down tapped the counter to get his attention.

“Are you waiting for someone?” Dominic asked.

Her gaze followed the bartender’s backside. He was older, reminded Dominic of Winter, maybe it was the approximate age, the sprinkling of gray, or simply the way he looked at Erin.

“I’m waiting for him,” she said, indicating the bartender with a jut of her chin.

“Your boyfriend?”

She shook her head, smiling.

“Your brother?”

She laughed, and Christ, he hadn’t felt her laugh quite that way for years, visceral. The first time he’d heard her laugh, he’d wanted her. And he’d never stopped.

“He’ll be less busy in an hour,” she said of the bartender and shrugged. “I guess he wants to talk to me some more.”

Dominic had outlined a list of things for her; how to dress, where to go, and when to arrive. But there was only one rule that mattered; she was to pretend she didn’t know him.

His job was to hit on her. Not that he’d told her.

There’d never been anything about what the outcome was supposed to be. So she’d upped the stakes, pitting him against the bartender.

“Did you let him buy your first drink?”

“No. I paid for my own wine.”

“Well, that makes me feel better.” He moved his knee so that it brushed her thigh. “What’s a beautiful woman like you doing out all by herself?” He glanced at her finger. She hadn’t removed the wedding ring.

“Christmas shopping,” she said, sipping her wine. Her lipstick was a deep plum. It wasn’t her usual shade.

“What did you buy?”

“A bustier, garters, stockings.”

His heart skipped a beat imagining her in the getup, but he played out the moment. “Who’d you buy it for?” After all, she’d said she’d been Christmas shopping.

She put her fingers to the swell of her breasts above the lowcut neckline, drawing his gaze, drawing the bartender’s. “My husband.”

“Your husband wears women’s lingerie?”

She shot him a cheeky smile. “I’m going to model it for him. That’s the present.” She fluttered her eyelashes. “The next present is what he’ll get
after
I model.”

“And that is?”

“S-E-X,” she spelled for him.

The bartender read her lips, too, drifting closer to grab a couple of glasses off a shelf, absorbing every word.

“That’s an extremely nice Christmas present,” Dominic said.

“It’s the appetizer. His
real
present is much better.”

Dominic quirked one eyebrow, urging her on.

She laid a hand on his knee, raised her voice just enough to include the bartender. “I’m going to give him his biggest fantasy.”

His biggest fantasy was right here; his wife’s hand on his thigh, that sexy skirt and fuck-me heels, and letting the bartender think she was flirting with a complete stranger. “Are you going to make me ask or just tell me?” he drawled.

“Ask.” She puckered her lips at him.

The bartender took extra time mixing a Bloody Mary and a cocktail with too much bourbon. “I’m dying to hear what your husband’s biggest fantasy is.”

“A threesome,” she said with barely a sound, but exaggerated pronunciation that left neither him nor the bartender in doubt.

Christ, she was maniacal. He loved it. “Isn’t that every man’s fantasy? Two gorgeous women to fulfill his desires.”

She playfully slapped his hand and shook her head. “Don’t be silly. Two men to fulfill all
my
desires.”

The bartender sloshed tomato juice down the glass.

“I’ve always wanted two men,” she said sweetly. “And as my husband says, my biggest fantasy is his biggest wish.” She gave him a tinkling laugh, not her real laugh, but he felt it in his belly just the same.

A flash of heat surged through his body. Christ. His wife was amazing. He came up with a plan. She did him one better, one hundred, even one million better. The bartender couldn’t have moved if someone pulled out a gun and said, “Stick ’em up.” Erin had him in thrall.

“So that’s what I’m really shopping for tonight.”

“A third?”

She blinked a yes, then pointedly looked at the bartender. “I just haven’t made up my mind who.” She smiled, glancing between the two of them. “Convince me it should be you.”

Holy hell. He’d created a monster. But what a way to go.

SHE WAS A COCK TEASE. MEAN AND CRUEL. THE POOR BARTENDER. But God, it was fun.

The bartender cleared his throat, then spoke, his voice cracking like a teenage boy. “Maybe you should consider bringing home two men and letting your husband watch.”

Dominic narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you have a drink to serve? The waitress is snapping her fingers at you.”

“Don’t be rude,” Erin said, liking that the bartender was trying to find a compromise that worked for all three of them. “What’s your name?” she asked.

“Shane.”

She liked his brown eyes, but she loved the hot gleam in Dominic’s. “Nice to meet you, Shane. I’m”—she allowed herself only the slightest hesitation—“Laura.” Because
Laura
from the 1940s was one of her favorite movies, and the title character was elegant and sophisticated and all the men were in love with her. She tipped her head at Dominic. “What’s your name?”

Dominic smiled. It was a game. She didn’t know him so she didn’t know his name. “Nick.”

She traced his wedding ring, wondering if Shane noticed the match to the one on her finger. “Does your wife call you Nickie?”

Dominic’s grin threaded through his voice. “At the right moment, yeah.”

“Then I’ll call you Nickie, too.”

“Shane,” the waitress hissed. She’d moved down the bar, her face tarnished by tense lines, her hair a darker, unenhanced shade of blond. “I need drinks here.”

Shane shot Dominic with a finger pistol. “Don’t take advantage while I’m gone.”

Dominic merely snorted.

“He’s very protective,” she explained after Shane strolled to the other end of the bar.

“Proprietary is more like it. You must come here often.”

She shook her head, her hair feeling like silk as it caressed her bare nape. “My first time. How about you?”

He swirled the contents of his glass. He hadn’t drunk much of it. “I’ve entertained clients here.”

“Are you a lawyer or something?”

He shook his head. “An engineer.”

“Interesting.”

He propped an elbow on the bar, leaning his temple on his fist as he faced her, giving her his total concentration. “What about you? What’s your line of work?”

She thought of all the exotic careers she could pretend she had. And decided she was happy with what she was. “COO of a manufacturing company.” Chief operating officer. Dominic was president. The titles were meaningless, but they sounded good. “So, no more sex talk after our audience has walked away?”

It was a strange sensation talking to him as if she knew nothing about him, as if they were brand-new to each other. Even his aftershave smelled different, more tantalizing. Or maybe it had just been so long since she’d taken the time to notice. Her body reacted as if this weren’t a role-play, heating, getting wet and ready for the conquest of a new male. The way he smiled was like a caress, setting a tingle loose along her skin. She actually felt breathless.

“Oh yeah,” he drawled, “we’re going to have more sex talk. I just wanted to know more about who I’m talking to. How long have you been married?”

“Fifteen years.”

“You’ve got one very understanding husband.”

“He’s got one very understanding wife.”

“Touché. Not many men would be so lucky.” He didn’t touch her, but his look, his voice, everything about him was almost physical. “Can you test out the goods before the big date?”

“Of course. What if I found out my choice wasn’t properly equipped?” She winked. “Or didn’t know how to utilize his equipment effectively.”

“That could be disastrous,” he agreed, unbuttoning his suit jacket so she could assess his package through his pants.

She glanced down. “On the face of it, you don’t seem to have any equipment problems.” Obviously hard beneath the material, she didn’t have to touch to gauge how big he was.

Shane made his way back down to them. “What did I miss?”

Dominic tipped his head without moving his fist from his temple. “Equipment assessment. I passed.”

Shane guffawed, glancing over his shoulder when he realized he’d attracted attention. The piano player played louder—unless that was her imagination—and the only man still paying attention after that was the one who’d tried to buy her a drink. Shane stepped back then, legs slightly spread, hands at his hips, pelvis jutted.

“Oh my,” she murmured.

He beamed, shooting Dominic a triumphant smile.

“But size isn’t everything,” she said.

Dominic and Shane snorted simultaneously.

“Men.” She sneered gently. “It’s not the size; it’s what you do with it. And not just
it
.” She arched one brow. “But all the other stuff that goes along with
it
.”

Shane leaned in to brace both hands on the bar and dropped his voice. “I think she’s talking about foreplay.”

She leaned closer, too. “The term was invented by men. As if it’s be
fore
the real play. To a woman, it can be everything.”

Shane regarded her a moment, then looked pointedly at Dominic. “Well, Nick, I do believe we have to convince Laura here that she needs to make her husband watch, because it sure sounds like the man’s got a lot to learn.”

Erin felt her smile stretch. “Yes, Nickie, what do you think of that? Does my husband need some lessons?”

His mouth quirked. “Oh, I think you have a lot to teach your husband. I bet there’s stuff you’ve never told him.”

She enticed them both with a low, husky voice that didn’t sound like her at all, yet felt so right. “Maybe it’s time for him to find out.”

“What do you want us to show him how to do?” Shane kept his voice low. His body vibrated with sexual tension, but his eyes danced with humor.

Her skin was flush, her heart racing, and her nipples peaked against the Lycra. This was new and exciting and the slightest bit frightening. But God, she loved the banter. “This is still only hypothetical, remember,” she warned.

“Of course,” they recited in unison.

She thought about what would make them crazy. Oh, for sure, this was going to be fun. “So do you want my fantasy. Or do you want my husband’s?”

SHANE ROLLED HIS EYES. “YOURS. WHO CARES ABOUT HIS?”

“I want yours, too,” Dominic agreed.