Trouble (2 page)

Okay, so the putting up with crappy sex hadn’t been part of her parents’ lectures, but having a steady relationship had been. And that meant putting up with mediocre sex.

Somehow after high school she’d done everything
proper
, and it had bitten her in the ass.

Well, she was done with it. It was time to do things her way, and she knew just the person to help her relearn what that was.

Just as Samair reached the far corner of the room she heard a piercing rebel yell and turned to see a striking redhead climb into one of the platform cages on the edge of the dance floor and start shaking her booty.

Despite the long, straight, brilliant red hair pulled back in two high pigtails, the neutral makeup, and the porcelain complexion, Joey Kent did not look innocent. Maybe it was the custom-made leather halter top, short shorts, and knee-high boots.

Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Joey was there, and she was a friend.

Samair chuckled and made her way in that direction. She ran her hand up Joey’s calf to her bare skin and tickled her behind the knee to get her attention. Joey swung around sharply, and saw Samair.

“Sammie!” The last vestiges of Samair’s anger and frustration slipped away at the pure welcome in Joey’s grin.

“Hey, baby!” Samair shouted.

“Get your butt up here, girl!”

Without thinking twice, Samair set her drink on the edge of the platform and tossed her worn leather backpack into the cage. She gripped the bars, hoisted herself up, and squeezed between the metal into the cramped space. And was instantly wrapped in her old friend’s arms.

Joey must’ve picked up on something in her hug, because when she pulled back, there was concern in her expression. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Samair shook her head and flashed a wicked grin. “Later,” she shouted. “For now I just want to have a good time!”

“Let’s do it!”

Joey reached for the buttons of Samair’s simple blouse and started to undo them while both girls moved to the music.

 

 

 

 

S
amair closed her eyes, listened to the music, and let herself go. Joey’s body rubbed against hers and the two girls danced as if they belonged together. As if it hadn’t been almost three years since the last time.

Heat began to build inside her, and Samair opened her eyes to scan the mass of bodies on the dance floor. “It’s a bit of a high, isn’t it?” Joey’s voice was husky as she moved closer.

Samair lost track of time as they danced with abandon, bumping and grinding against each other, lost in the flashing lights and loud music. The heat of many eyes landed on her, and she enjoyed every minute of it. Joey’s soft and feminine hands floated over her generous curves, and Samair shifted closer as one of those hands slid under the cover of her hair. Joey put her forehead against Samair’s, and the women gazed into each other’s eyes.

“It’s been a long time, Sammie.” Joey’s breath floated over her lips.

“It has,” she replied, trailing her own hands teasingly over Joey’s bare back as she writhed against her. “I’m sorry.”

Both of Joey’s hands cupped her head and she spoke clearly. “You never need to apologize to me. I’m just happy to see you.”

Then she kissed her. A hard kiss on the lips that lingered for just a second. When they pulled apart, it was to hoots of approval and raucous clapping.

“Welcome back, Trouble.”

They shifted apart, and Joey gave another piercing rebel yell. Samair’s grin was a mile wide as she slipped between the bars of the cage and dropped back to the carpeted floor that edged the dance floor. Her heart was pounding and her breath came in pants, but she couldn’t remember when she’d felt better.

Reaching between the bars, she grabbed her backpack from the floor of the cage and snagged the blouse she’d removed while dancing. After using it to pat her neck and upper chest dry, she reached for the drink she’d set aside earlier. The ice had melted but it quenched her thirst well enough.

A bead of sweat trickled between her breasts and she thought about reaching down to wipe there, but reconsidered when she felt intent eyes still on her. She might not be shy, but she wasn’t tacky either.

“You’d think they’d never seen a woman in a camisole before,” she said when Joey dropped down to the floor beside her.

“It’s not that. My God, look around you. Most of the time there’s more bare skin in Risqué than on the beach.” Joey laughed and threaded her arm around Samair’s. “It’s the fact that your camisole is this virginal white satin and lace thing that looks downright naughty at the same time. It’s one of yours, isn’t it?”

Samair nodded and felt a sting of pride. She’d made the top herself. Since the age of sixteen, her passion for sewing, combined with her curvy and slightly disproportionate body, had inspired her to create clothes for herself that fit
and
looked good—including lingerie.

“You don’t think it might be because you stripped me of my blouse and then kissed me?”

“Ya think?” Joey giggled and steered her to a booth along the back wall where there was small group of people. “What can I say? I’m happy to see you.”

While they walked Samair felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise and glanced around. Someone was watching her again. Closely.

“Everyone, this is Samair. Sammie, this is . . . everyone.” She laughed and waved a hand at the five others sitting in the booth.

“I’m Rob.” The guy closest to her held out his hand. After shaking her hand, he pointed to each of the others as he rattled off their names. “That’s Tara, Kelly, Jason, and Savannah.”

Each was dressed to the nines, with a unique individual style that bared a lot of skin and cleavage. Samair figured they were some of Joey’s dancer friends. The waitress arrived at the table and Joey ordered two tequilas and water. Samair added her order of two as well.

“One of those was for you,” Joey said as they sat down.

“I know, but I want two, and you’re going to keep up with me.” She met her friend’s raised eyebrows with a grin.

“Not a problem, little girl,” Joey replied smartly. “So tell me what’s new. I haven’t talked to you in almost two months, and I haven’t seen you in—Geez! In what—almost three years?”

“Something like that.” Samair glanced around the table of strangers. Even though none of them appeared to be listening, she didn’t want to talk about how her day had gone.

Hell, she didn’t want to think about how her
life
had gone. She just wanted to be with someone who knew
her
and have a good time. “Can I tell you about it tomorrow?”

“Am I going to see you tomorrow?”

“Sure, I’m staying at your place for a while.”

When Joey grinned and nodded, Samair relaxed and let out the breath she hadn’t even been aware she was holding.

Joey had been the one who’d tried to keep them in contact. Samair had been too busy to go to the bar with her or even call her back half the time. It was her fault they’d lost contact, and she was thankful Joey wasn’t the type of friend who would hold it against her.

“Excuse me.” The waitress leaned over Samair’s shoulder and she shifted in her seat so the girl could reach the table. She pulled some cash out of her pocket and the waitress shook her head. “The drinks are on the house.”

Samair’s eyebrows jumped in surprise. “Really?” she asked the pretty waitress. “Why?”

“Val said so, and what he says goes.”

The waitress walked away before Samair could even tip her. She glanced at Joey. “Who’s Val?”

“Valentine Ward.” Joey raised her glass and nodded at the far corner. “He owns the club.”

Samair’s head swiveled and she searched the corner Joey had indicated, and collided with the super-intense gaze of the man there.

Even dressed in crisp pressed trousers and a tailored dress shirt, and with his strong masculine features softened by a small smile, he had a lean, lethal look about him. As if he were a barely tamed wild animal. Before she could get a really good look at him he stepped back, deeper into the shadows, but she could still feel the heat of his gaze on her.

A shiver danced down her spine.

“He doesn’t mind you drinking while you work?”

He was the one who had been watching her; she knew it without a doubt.

“Not as long as we don’t get smashed. You’re fired if you get drunk, and he
always
knows when someone does.”

 

 

J
oey watched as Sammie laughed at one of Rob’s ridiculous jokes. She’d never met the dancers Joey worked with before, but you’d never know it to see the way they all laughed and joked together.

It had always been like that. Sammie could walk into a room full of strangers and fifteen minutes later everyone was in love with her. There was just something about her that made people want to be with her.

Everyone wanted to be with Sammie, but only the guys wanted to be with Joey. For whatever reason, most women didn’t like Joey. They especially didn’t like Joey around their boyfriends, which was stupid because she’d never fool around with a guy who was taken.

Joey cringed inside. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. Normally she was positive and enthusiastic about everything, but lately . . . It was probably just hormones. She’d been feeling a little lonely, so Sammie’s timing was perfect.

It would be nice to have someone around to talk to. Someone who saw beyond the flirtatious cage dancer persona that felt all too real lately.

 

 

 

 

A
short time later, Samair came out of the ladies’ room in time to see Valentine Ward climbing the stairs to the second floor. Unable to deny the impulse, she followed him. It was getting late, close to the end of the night, and the stairs were empty. Almost everyone was either on the dance stairs were empty. Almost everyone was either on the dance floor or cozying up to another warm body in a dark corner. She was on the bottom step just as he reached the top, and she got a quick view of fine cotton tightening over the perfect shape of his butt. How could a man’s ass look that good in dress pants? Normally only tight denim or bare naked looked so yummy to her.

Sure, her blood had been running hot all night, but that sight made her breath catch and her fingers itch.

She climbed the stairs, her eyes tracking him as he crossed the floor. He waved at a blond guy with tattoos who sat at the bar in the small VIP section, but didn’t slow his pace. He nodded at the bouncer watching over the sectioned-off space, then turn left and disappeared down a corridor she hadn’t noticed earlier.

Throwing her shoulders back, she sauntered behind him, flashing the bouncer a small smile. When she entered the corridor, there was an open door at the end of it.

“Enjoying yourself tonight?” he asked when she entered the room.

He stood behind a large wooden desk, his head bent as he slid something into a drawer. She’d been silent, but he’d known she was there. Impressive.

“Yes, I am,” Samair replied, stepping more fully into the office and looking around. “Are you?”

The room was very clean and modern, though not large. An overstuffed leather couch along one wall, some bookshelves, a closed door to the right of her and a floor-to-ceiling wall of windows on her left. It looked normal, yet the air in the room seemed to vibrate with an extraordinary energy. When the drawer of his desk snapped closed, she stopped fighting it and let her gaze focus on him.

Midnight-dark hair slicked back in a small ponytail only emphasized the strength of his features. Dark eyebrows over even darker eyes, and shadows of stubble along his jaw gave him an edgy, dangerous look. His stark handsomeness was completely masculine, except for the softness of full, sensuous lips that lifted at the corner before he spoke. “I’m about to enjoy it more.”

He looked like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and the gleam in his eye told her she was the lamb he wanted.

 

 

 

 

E
rotic heat surged through her and she realized that this was what she needed to forget the day from hell she’d had.

God, she wanted to wipe the past several years from her memory.

She’d all but lost herself in the tedious day-to-day existence of trying to be someone her parents would be proud of. Someone she wasn’t. She knew forgetting it all was a tall order and would take both time and effort, but she was willing to start with just that day for now.

More than willing, she was
eager
.

“I wanted to thank you for the drinks you sent earlier. It was very nice of you.” She moved around the room, running a finger along the books on the shelves but not seeing the titles.

“You’re welcome.” His deep voice sent a seductive shiver sizzling down her spine. He tilted his head, watching with a speculative stare as she prowled the room. “What is it you’re looking for, Samair?”

That he knew her name should’ve surprised her. Yet it didn’t. She doubted much got past this man, especially in his own club.

More times than she could count during her partying college years, Samair would walk by a hot guy in a club, smile at him flirtatiously, and have him grin back. Then he’d shake his head regretfully and say, “Oh man, you are trouble,” before walking away.

There were different variations on the sentence, but for some reason, the refrence to
trouble
was always there. Valentine gave the impression of a man familiar with all sorts of trouble.

Just what she needed.

“Right now?” She shrugged. “Nothing. Today I figured out I wasn’t doing what I really wanted to do, so I quit my job.”

Why’d she tell him that? It’s not like he’d care.

Sure enough, he skipped over her answer and went right to the heart of the matter. His full lips tilted up at one corner, and the temperature in the room inched higher. “What is it you
want
then?”