Trouble (15 page)

“Then?”

He laughed. “I’m hoping by then you’ll be making enough of a splash with this business of yours that they won’t freak when I tell them I’m sticking with hockey.”

She shook her head at him. “I love you, little brother.”

 

 

 

 

A
fter lunch with Brett, Samair took her sketchbook and settled on the loveseat with a bag of microwave popcorn and a huge glass of soda. She wasn’t hungry, but the muse was, and Samair needed inspirational designs fast.

Sure enough, the combination of salt, sugar, and caffeine worked . . . and four hours later she had over a dozen rough sketches. Images of things she’d seen the night before, things she’d found on the Internet, things she liked, all blended into some of the wildest things she’d ever created, and some of the softest, too.

The best thing about all of the designs was she really only needed three basic patterns that she could build on. She had one corset design that she could easily alter to make different looks and accessorize to suit either a dominant or submissive look.

Thank God Tara was a bit of an exhibitionist; she was going to need a model willing to be almost naked for a couple of the outfits. Her imagination had really gotten into the erotic spirit of things with a cupless bondage bra and a net bodysuit.

Joey wasn’t exactly shy with her body either, so that gave her two models. Kelly was iffy, but that was okay because not every outfit required massive exposure. She needed to ask Joey if she’d found a few others willing to model for her. They’d have to meet next week to make sure everything fit, and go over the floor plan.

The floor plan. She needed to utilize the whole place to make sure that everyone there got a look at the products.

She got up and cleaned the breakfast dishes, keeping her hands busy so her mind could roam free. She pictured the club, and where and how she’d want the models to walk—or to dance?

Her cell phone rang and she wiped her hands dry on her jeans before flipping it open.

“Hey, babe. How are you today?” Val. The warmth in his voice brought a soft smile to her face.

“Doing good. Really good actually.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“Thanks for last night,” she said quietly. She picked up her pencil and started doodling on the blank page in front of her. She was a little unsure how to say what she’d been thinking. “About last night. At first I didn’t get why you weren’t sticking around . . . you know, to umm, to fuck me in the corset like you’d promised. But after you left, I got it.”

“You had other things on your mind last night. I’m a selfish man; I want you to be fully aware, and into anything that happens between us.” He laughed softly. “Besides, I expect you to wear that corset for me again sometime.”

Heat rushed to her sex. She swallowed and tried to speak naturally. “I had lunch with Brett today. My brother.”

“How did it go?”

“It was good. He’s still the same guy I grew up with. When I went there I’d planned to confront him, but I realized that it didn’t matter. He’s allowed to have a private life, too, and it’s none of my business. It’s not like I want him knowing—” She cut herself off.

“Knowing what?” His soft chuckle echoed over the phone line. “That you have an adventurous streak yourself?”

She relaxed. “Exactly.”

Talking to him was nice. He understood.

She looked at her doodling and realized she’d been drawing little hearts and filling them in. Shit.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to get her head back in the real world. “Are you at Risqué?”

“Heading in right now.”

“Think I could drop in and walk around while it’s still closed? To get a good mental idea of how I want to lay things out for the show.” Mental images of the club just weren’t doing it. Plus, getting him alone in his office sounded like a real good idea right about then. She could thank him properly for his care and concern.

“Sure, just use the doorbell at the back. Kelsey will be stocking the bar and she’ll let you in.”

They said their good-byes and she snapped the phone shut.

With anticipation fluttering in her stomach, she started for the closet. She knew just what she wanted to wear for this little visit.

 

 

T
he Hog rumbled beneath him and the wind whipped through his hair as Val made his way to the club. Soon the weather would turn and he’d have to put the bike away for the winter. He had an old Camaro stashed in Karl’s garage that was his winter car, but he’d keep driving the bike as long as he could.

Hopefully, he’d be able to make one last road trip before it was time to park it. Karl would certainly be up for it. He wondered what it would take to get Samair to go with them. Her attitude in dealing with Karl had been top notch. Val chuckled to himself. Women were too easy for Karl and he needed one to stand up to him and put him in his place every now and then.

The night before certainly hadn’t turned out the way he’d thought it would. He was still hard-pressed to pick a part of the night that was his favorite. Especially now that he’d talked to Samair and found out she was doing okay. If she’d been hurt by his taking her there, he’d have felt like shit.

The ride to the Dungeon, with Samair’s legs hugging him and her body pressing against his, had been great. It had felt almost . . . right. Like she belonged there, on the bike with him.

He’d never been able to coax Vera onto the Harley; she’d been way too concerned about who would see her to care how it would feel, or how it would make him feel.

The wonderment on Samair’s face when she’d climbed off the bike had told him that he probably wouldn’t have to beg to get her on it again. The expression had remained as they walked through the underground club, and it made him want to show her the world. It wasn’t like she was innocent—a woman that played his body the way she did was no virgin—but she was ingenuous. Her pleasure and enthusiasm were pure and honest.

She didn’t play head games, and he liked that.

When Val pulled up at the back door to Risqué he was feeling damn good. He entered the club through the back door and started down the small corridor. The door to the walk-in cooler was open so he stopped in the doorway to talk to his head bartender. “Everything go all right last night, Kelsey?”

“Smooth as a baby’s butt, boss.” The petite brunette hefted a case of Bud onto the trolley she had set up, then planted her hands on her hips. “How was your night?”

Val smiled. Kelsey had worked for him since he’d opened the place. They weren’t friends, but she was a sweetheart, and she was valuable to him. “Not as smooth as yours, but still good. I like the new color, it suits you better than the purple.”

“Yeah?” She fingered a lock of hair. “I wasn’t so sure. It was between orange or blue, and I’ve done blue before . . . so orange it is.”

“It’s perfect. Halloween is coming soon, so you’ll be considered enthusiastic.”

“Shit! I didn’t even think of Halloween. Oh no, the orange has to go. Maybe green,” she muttered as she hefted another case of beer.

He’d knew that would get her.

Val used to offer to help her with the beer, or bring one of the guys in early for the lifting, but Kelsey was nothing if not stubborn, and he’d learned to let her do it her way.

“Hey, boss,” she called out as he turned away.

“Yeah?”

“Your ex is at the bar, and she’s pissy because I wouldn’t let her into your office to wait for you.”

Great. “Thanks.”

Dread settled on his shoulders. It was never good news when Vera came by the club. He shoved the swinging door open and strode inside. “What do you want, Vera?”

“Is that any way to greet a friend?” She smiled from her perch by the main bar.

His steps didn’t falter as he crossed the floor to the stairs. “You’re not a friend.”

“Tsk, tsk, Val. I was much more than a friend at one point.”

Val didn’t respond. He wasn’t going to get into a discussion about the past with her.

She followed him up the stairs and into his office. Ignoring her, he took off his jacket and hung it on the rack, then sat behind his desk and booted up the computer.

“You’re looking good, Valentine.” Vera seated herself on the sofa, crossing her legs and smiling at him seductively.

“Thank you. I’m feeling good.” Or he had been until he saw her.

“Feeling better than when we were together?”

His gaze snapped to her. “Why do you care?”

“You live in a crappy apartment, you sold your Camaro, and you’re struggling to make your bank payments. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

His impatience reared and he put down the pencil he’d picked up before he snapped it in two. His tolerance for Vera’s games had ended the night he’d left her, but he really didn’t want her to know how easily she could get under his skin. “I don’t have time for this. What do you want, Vera?”

She stood up and prowled toward him. She came close and perched on the corner of his desk. This time, when she crossed her legs, her foot brushed against his leg in a deliberate caress. “I want to invest in Risqué.”

He pushed his chair back and stood, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not looking for investors.”

“Oh? Have you paid off the bank loan then?”

“You know I haven’t.”

“Then why not let me invest? I can certainly afford it.”

“You’ve never had an interest in the club. No reason for you to start now.”

“Oh, but there is a reason.” She leaned forward, resting her hand on his arm. “I want to fix things between us, to make it all up to you.”

“Let it go, Vera. You don’t want to make it up to me. You hate that I was the one to call our marriage off. It pisses you off that a lowly club owner—a
thug
, I believe you called me—would have the nerve to walk away from you.” He gave a derisive snort. “You want to control me, and it’s not going to happen.”

She slid off his desk and smiled viciously. “You’re going to lose this club, and then you’re going to regret being so stubborn with me. It’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind, and I might not want you or the club anymore.”

Val bit his tongue to keep from reminding her that he knew from experience just how fickle she was. Instead, he watched her slim hips swing from side to side as she walked out of his office.

He sat down, pulled out a legal pad, and grabbed his pencil. He couldn’t let Vera get to him. Samair was coming down to talk about the fashion show and he had several ideas to run by her.

Pencil poised over paper, and all he could see was Vera’s vicious smile. He leaned back against his chair, closed his eyes, and counted to ten.

And when he opened his eyes, he straightened up and glanced through the wall of windows . . . and saw Vera talking to Samair.

 

 

 

 

S
amair recognized the brunette heading toward her right away. They locked stares when Samair hit the top of the steps on her way to Val’s office, and Samair was shocked when the woman smiled at her.

Then again, it wasn’t exactly a friendly smile.

“I don’t think Valentine wants any visitors right now. He’s in a bit of a mood,” she said when they were only a couple of feet apart.

Both women stopped, and Samair gave a small smile. “Really? He was in a great mood when I spoke to him a short time ago.”

“I have that effect on him.” The woman laughed and held out her hand. “I’m Vera Duggin, Valentine’s ex-wife. I don’t think I’ve met you before.”

“Samair Jones. Val’s friend.” Oh, how tempting it was to say
lover
, but—oh, hell. “And lover.”

Vera’s smile softened, her tongue darted out to smooth across her lips and her hand held Samair’s for a moment longer. “I’m not surprised. You’re a very beautiful woman.”

A tingle of awareness ran through Samair. “Thank you.”

“Not many women embrace their curves anymore, and it’s a shame. A lush figure like yours just brings all sorts of possibilities to mind.”

A telling silence fell as they gazed at each other. Vera’s gaze darkened and she shifted closer.

“I thought you were done here, Vera.”

Samair started at Val’s voice. For a minute there she’d been completely absorbed by the tension between herself and Vera.

He stepped around Vera and put a hand on Samair’s back. As if he thought she needed protection.

“We were just chatting, Valentine.” Vera smirked and stepped back. “I’m surprised you allow your lovers to visit you here. You have changed.”

Val’s lips tightened and his body stiffened. Samair leaned into his side comfortingly as she spoke. “I’m here on business, actually. Risqué is hosting a fashion show for my new design label and there are some things we needed to go over.”

“You’re a fashion designer?”

“Yes, mostly lingerie and costumes. You seem like a woman who loves sexy lingerie. You should be sure to come to the show . . . spend some money.” She flashed her a cheeky grin.

Vera chuckled and slid a glance at Val. “I do love sexy things. Thank you for the invitation. I’ll make it a point to attend. For now, I’ll leave you two to your work.” She stepped around them. “Bye for now, lovers.”

Neither of them moved until Vera was out of earshot, then Samair turned to Val. He was stiff and still, with the same completely blank yet somehow furious expression that he’d had the last time she’d seen Vera walking away from him.

Her chest tightened. He’d been married. And he was still in contact with his ex. There was so much about him that she didn’t know, but there was one thing she did know: she didn’t want to see him like that.

So, she stood on tiptoe, braced her hands on Val’s stiff shoulders, and pressed her lips to his. When she pulled back, the frost had eased from his features. Decision made, she took his hand in hers, turned, and led the way into his office where she pushed him gently onto the leather sofa.