Chapter One

Brandon

“Why the fuck am I not balancing?” I look at the computer, and all I see are jumbled numbers in columns. I have just gotten the monthly spreadsheet back from my sister, November—well, my stepsister.

The cursor on the screen just sits there waiting for me to enter something, but I have no idea why I’m not balancing. Another month of not balancing in the books. The knock on the door makes my head snap up from the computer. I’ve been running Teasers, the only gentlemen’s club in town, for the past five years. Many people call it a strip club, but that isn’t what this is. I mean, the women do strip, and they are naked, but let’s give them the respect they deserve.

I inherited the club from my stepdad, Mike. My parents divorced when I was fourteen, and my mother moved back to her hometown and fell in love with her ex. I want to say I didn’t give my mother problems, but I can’t. I was that kid who pushed every single boundary she set until Mike stepped in and showed me what a real man does for his woman and love. He took me under his wing, guided me, and most of all, he loved me. So when I turned eighteen, I took his last name. Proudly. With Mike came his daughter, November, her husband, Asher, and their five kids, all girls. I swear I think my brother-in-law will jump off a bridge soon. But I am the best uncle you could ask for.

I pick up the phone and dial November, who answers on the first ring. “You saw the numbers,” she says, not even saying hello.

“Yeah. I just don’t get it,” I tell her as I look at the computer. “It’s been five months. Why can’t we figure out what’s going on?”

“No idea, brother,” she says. “I think we should show it to Dad to see if maybe he sees something.”

“Yeah. I think, if anything, he can find it. I just don’t get it.”

“Okay, I gotta go. It’s soccer practice for the girls. Are you coming for Sunday dinner?”

I rub my hand over my face. “It’s only Monday.”

“Yes, but I think Lilly wants to introduce you to someone.” I hear her giggle.

“No, fuck no,” I hiss out. “The last time she did that, she introduced me to a woman who wouldn’t eat vegetables picked from a tree because it was murder.” Now the giggle turns into a full-blown laugh. “Every single time I bit into a carrot, I think she called me a murderer.”

“Okay, fine. Either way, I hope to see you Sunday.” I don’t confirm, but then she starts in with, “The girls miss their favorite uncle ...”

“Fine,” I huff out, “but that was a low blow. See you Sunday.” I hang up the phone and toss it on my desk. Turning my eyes back to the screen, I have no choice but to go row by row now. A knock sounds on the door. “Come in!” I yell out and see that it is Rebecca. Rebecca has been working for me since last year.

“I brought you coffee,” Rebecca says, handing me a cup. Wearing a lace thong and the matching push-up bra, she has fake size D breasts that don’t even move. She bats her eyelashes at me while I give her a fake smile, a smile that I am just doing to be polite.

“You didn’t have to bring me coffee,” I tell her. She has been after me or, better yet, my cock since the day she started here. If it was up to her, she would have already moved into my house and had a five-carat ring sitting on her left hand. Little does she know that I will never shit where I eat. Which means I will never touch one hair on her head. I never touch any of my girls; it’s a line that Mike told me to draw in the sand, and I’ve stuck with it.

She walks around the desk and leans her hip against my desk. “I know I didn’t, silly. I wanted to.” She smiles at me, the smell of her perfume stinging my eyes.

“Well, thank you anyway.” I feel my white dress shirt strangle my neck with the feel of her heat next to me. I’m trying to think of something to get away from her when there is a knock on the door. “Come in.” It comes out louder than I thought it would. I get up from my chair and walk around the desk as my uncle Joe walks in. He spots Rebecca right away, walking to the door.

“See you later,” she says, bouncing out with a smile.

“That girl is like a fucking jellyfish; she latches on, and you can’t get rid of her till you pry that fucker off.” Joe looks back at the door while I smile. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good; just trying to get Mikki’s spot filled,” I say, thinking about Mikki, who was our number one girl. She brought in the high rollers, and she lapped it up each time. So much so, that she put herself through law school. They thought she was a bimbo who didn’t know anything, so the look on their faces when she told them she passed the bar was pure satisfaction.

“It’s going to be hard to fill, but I have no doubt you will,” he says, sitting in the chair right in front of my desk.

“Yeah, I’m not too sure about that.” I try thinking of ways to bring in new clientele.

I lean back in my chair when a knock on the door makes us look back. We see Sebastien, the doorman, poke his head in.

“Hey, boss, I thought you would like to know that someone is here for a job.”

My uncle Joe smiles. “See, told you.”

“Well,” Sebastien starts, “the thing is she doesn’t come off as a dancer.”

“What do you mean?” I ask him, standing up to walk around the desk and sliding my hands in my pockets.

He just puts his hand up to stop me from asking questions and goes to the door to open it. He nods his head, and the woman walks in. “Gentlemen, this is Aurora.”

My heart stops, the feeling of fullness fills me. My stomach clenches just by looking at her. My breathing soft and slow. She walks in smiling at Joe first and then at me when she sees me.

If I thought I was a goner just by looking at her, the minute her eyes meet mine … I see it. I feel it. Mine. I don’t know how I know, but fuck, I’veheard my family all discuss the boom. Every single one of them succumbing to this boom. At first, I didn’t think I would get it, but now? Now, I fucking see it.

Her golden hair, cascading to her waist, makes me want to bury my hands in it to pull, hold, soothe. Her soft gray eyes hold a sadness in them, the light gone. Her nose is sprinkled with little freckles. Her lips are perfect, so fucking perfect and full. She looks down, tucking her hair behind her ear. Wearing a pair of black ripped jeans, she stands there, and I think she must be at least five-foot-eleven, maybe even six-foot.

“Aurora.” I let the name roll off my tongue. “Please come in.” I motion for her to take a seat while Joe gets up and heads to the door.

“I should be going,” he says. “Aurora, good luck, but from the looks of it, I don’t think you are going to need it.”

“Thank you,” she whispers as she sits down in the chair and wraps her purse strap around her hands.

I turn, walking around the desk to sit down and look at her as she fidgets nervously with trembling hands.

“Here is my resume.” She hands me a file that I don’t open.

“I’m Brandon.” I smile at her as she looks at me, almost like she’s scared. “So, Aurora, tell me, how old are you?” Totally not even part of the interview process, and it goes against everything I’ve been taught.

“What?” she asks, her eyebrows going up. “I’m over twenty-one if that is what you are worried about.”

“Do you have any experience?” My blood boils as I think of other men seeing her dance.

“No.” She looks down at her hands. “I’ve never done this.” She looks back up at me. “But I can learn. I only have one deal breaker.”

“And what is that?” My thumb starts drumming on the desk.

Her voice comes out soft. “I just can’t work nights.”

“Why not?” I ask, needing to know if she has a man back home. I don’t think I breathe till she answers my question.

“I take care of my sister at night,” she says, and my heart continues to pound. “I can’t leave her alone.”

“What hours are you available?” I ask her, and I’m not really sure if it even matters. At this point, I don’t give a shit if she can be here for only twenty minutes a day; I’m going to make it work.

“I can be here from eight to five. I need to be home by five-thirty.”

“You start tomorrow,” I tell her, and the light fills her eyes. The defeat that was there is almost gone. “Be here at eight. I will be waiting for you.”

She nods her head and smiles, and my whole chest fills with something I can’t explain. “See you then.” She stands up, holding her hand out to shake mine. When her hand slides into mine, my heart stops. It’s stupid—I know this—but she fits me perfectly.

After she leaves, I’m watching the doorway when Joe knocks and comes back in.

“So is she going to work?” he asks me, sitting in the same chair that she just left in front of my desk.

“Yup. She starts tomorrow at eight a.m. until five p.m.,” I tell him, drumming my thumb on the desk.

“Care to explain how you are going to be here at eight when you stay till closing? And while you’re explaining that, do you want to explain what the fuck she is going to do till four, when we actually open?” He puts his hands together as he stares at me, hiding his smirk.

“She can do office work,” I tell him. “I need help.”

“Since when?” He stands now, coming at me, knowing he has me, and I have no answers. None. “That’s what I thought.” He laughs, walking out of my office. I stand here not sure I want to move in case her citrus scent goes away. I don’t know how long I stand here, and I don’t know how I finish off the night, but tonight, when I walk into my house at almost four a.m., I know I’m going to be dragging my ass in the morning. Yet I can’t wait to see her again.