“Touch them and I’ll deck you.”

The new guy from the Raising Hellfire motorcycle club held up his hands in mock surrender, but Briony Wilde was in no mood to be tested.

“I mean it. If one of you so much as sneezes in the direction of that new tray of glasses I’ll . . .” She searched for something that wouldn’t be patently ridiculous in the face of her five-foot-nothing verses his six feet of all muscle. “I’ll kneecap you.”

The guy snorted.

Kneecap him? Really? Because that’s as high as you can reach? Briony blew a strand of dark curly hair out of her face and arched an eyebrow. The guy backed away from the glasses but didn’t stop smirking. The hair fell back in her eyes and Briony sighed, turning back to restocking the fridge with beer. The view didn’t help her mood. The scratched and scuffed wooden floor under the box of beer was hardly a glorious view. If her sighs could have fixed something, polished the dented bar or maybe repapered the peeling walls, the bar at Wilde’s Hotel would have been a whole lot swankier—swankier, cleaner, less debt-ridden and more able to sway favor with the city liquor-licensing department. Maybe the bank would stop sending threatening letters with words like foreclosure in bold-freaking-type, too, as if it wasn’t obvious enough that they wanted nothing more than to see the place bulldozed. Damn developers and their deep, favor-filled pockets. She hit her head on the bar fridge to try and clear the funk but she couldn’t get the conversation with her neighbor out of her head. Everyone was going. Knight Industries had bought everything on the block and in a couple of months she was going to have the last building standing. But there was no way she was leaving without a hell of a lot more fight.

Quiet ran through the bar and Briony’s hackles poked sharp fingers through her skin. Quiet was never good.

“I think she said not to touch them,” came a stranger’s voice from the other end of the bar.

SMASH!

Head up, lips bared, Briony clenched her fists. Five-foot-nothing or not, she was not going to let some oaf add to her mounting pile of debt by breaking the last tray of unchipped glasses she had.

“Get out of here,” she snarled. “And wipe that smirk off your face. You might have a Hell’s patch but that doesn’t make you king of the world.” The new patch didn’t budge.

“You know who he is, right?” Briony pointed at Rocco, the head of the Raising Hellfire Gang.

The new guy shrugged. “Sure. He gets to order me around, but no one else does.” He leaned over the bar toward her.

Briony stood her ground. “When you guys are in my bar everyone takes orders from me.”

“That right?”

Briony could smell the beer on the guy’s breath as he leaned even closer. Beer, burger, and the hot swampy breath of anger that was just itching for a fight.

“Don’t think you heard the lady. Time to leave.” The stranger’s voice again. Briony looked to the right and couldn’t quite make out the face in the gloom of the bar. A tall, broad silhouette stood near the door. Knight in shining bike leather sticking up for you?

“Bunch of people have told you to go. Move it.” Rocco stepped up and turned Briony’s antagonist toward the door. The head of the Hell’s gang simply nodded at two others and the new patch ducked to avoid an arm around his shoulders that was less than light.

“The boys’ll tear him a new one for you,” said Rocco, nodding to Briony.

“Asshole.” Briony’s blood was still pumping hard and she’d hung out with enough bikers to know how to throw a punch when she needed to.

Rocco shrugged. “Exactly. He’s new. Doesn’t know shit about shit.”

“Don’t stick up for him.” She glared at Rocco. “He’s already broken a pool cue and pissed me off with his stupid you - know - you - want - it grin. He needs to learn how to behave.”

A glimmer of a smile pecked at the edge of Rocco’s mouth then quickly flattened. “Done. He won’t mess with you again.”

Uh-oh. Briony gulped. Turning fifty hadn’t mellowed Rocco any. Sure his hair had started to gray, but the scar across his left eye didn’t hide how sharp his gaze was and his muscles still packed out his leather jacket when he bothered to flex them. He’d replaced his piece for a knife and promised he was out of the deep dark stuff, whatever that meant, but Briony didn’t need anything else on her conscience at the moment. Staying afloat was taking all of her mental capacity as it was.

“I didn’t mean . . .” She looked at the door the men had gone through. “They’re only glasses. A lesson is one thing. Don’t . . . you know.”

“No one’s going to lose a hand over a tray of glasses if that’s what you mean, babe. Sorry is all. I know you look out for us more than you should.”

Briony let herself smile a little. “Damn right. I should ban all of you and turn this place into a wine bar.”

“Except that would suck the ever-lovin’ life out of your soul and you know it. This whole place is yours, and you do whatever you need to, but Wilde’s and Hell’s Boys is family. Always has been, always will be. Your pop might have been crap with money, but he knew that.”

A shiver ran down Briony’s spine as she looked around her bar. What a family she’d inherited. “Well, I better clean up that broken glass.”

“Leave it for a bit, babes. I’ll get one of the boys to do it. You got bigger fish coming. Dude’s asking to have his wallet lifted coming in here looking like that. Good of him to stick up for you, though. Good and stupid.”

The stranger. My knight. Briony followed Rocco’s gaze and found the man had moved up the bar and was now talking with two of the Hell’s Boys she counted as friends, Hade and Marnz. In better light she saw the back of a clipped black head of hair atop a set of wide, gray-suit-encased shoulders. Way more city than usually walked through her door. Definitely not a knight in leather. More . . . slick.

Even taller than Hade or Marnz, Slick’s long legs were set apart, firmly rooted on the filthy floor. For someone who was so obviously in the wrong place, the guy seemed frickin’ sure of himself.

“Oh no. He’s probably from the city planning department. Or the bank or, crap.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t nothing me. Planning department giving you shit?”

“I’ll figure it out.” Briony thought about rushing to save Slick from the chat he was having. But Rocco wasn’t finished and put a hand on her arm.

“I could help, you know. That’s what family does.”

Briony’s chuckle combined with a snort. Classy. “Nice. You’re going to ride up to the city planners and ask politely that they extend my liquor license so you can have a beer? Or roll into the bank and tell them you’ve got more cash than the developer trying to take this place down? How do you think that’s going to go?”

Rocco looked down at his worn black leather jacket, emblazoned with the Raising Hellfire slash of red flames and shrugged.

“Eggggactly. I think I’ll deal with it myself, thanks.”

“Sorry, babes. You know we would have done this place up for you if that last job hadn’t gone bad . . .”

Briony shook her head. “I don’t want to know about it. If anyone asks, I can say I’ve never even heard of bank robbery.”

Rocco chuckled. “You’re a good girl. So, who do I have to have a chat with to get the bank bully boys back in their box?”

“Frank Knight is who.” The blood started ramping up its course around her body at the thought of the developer who was about to rip down half of the area. Briony clenched her fists. “Bet he was a skinny pale weasel with mommy problems, trying to make good because the mean boys at school teased him about his lack of a moustache.” Knight Industries had decided they were going to own this part of town and suddenly the good grace she’d built up with the planners and the bank since her dad died didn’t mean shit. Frank Knight’s cash apparently meant more than her promises, especially when she’d missed a payment on the bar a couple months ago. Her bank manager had told her to sell like everyone else, and hell, the money was tempting enough, but the bar was her home. Hers and the Hell’s Boys. End of story. But the bank suddenly shutting off any chance she had of extending her loan was a shit sandwich she wasn’t sure how to get through.

She’d googled him, Mr. Knight, hoping for something to use against him, but all she found was a short paragraph and a photo of a man with a broad set of shoulders but sagging skin. He’d clearly seen better days. Guy looked like he needed to retire rather than take over half of L.A. Didn’t mean she needed to feel sorry for him though. “Bastard.”

Rocco threw back his head and laughed. “Bri, you’re just lucky you did come out a girl. A temper like that woulda made you more enemies than your five-foot-nothing frame could have handled.”

“Yeah, well, me being a boy would have made my pop happy for sure.”

“Come on now. You know he loved you.”

“Only because I know my way around a Harley better than most women know their way around a shoe store. I’m supposed to be out on dates, fraternizing with nice men, wearing dresses even. Not drinking beer and watching NASCAR with you guys every Friday night.”

“Tell me you don’t love it and I’ll push you out the door myself,” said Rocco.

Briony grinned. “You got me.” She knew all the things she was supposed to enjoy. And raising her by himself after her mother died giving birth, Pop had done best he could. The truth though, was that her pop must have slipped some engine oil into her bottle when she was a baby because given a choice between Miu Mius and anything with a motor, the roar of a well-tuned engine won every time. Only thing she ticked all the girly magazine boxes for was men. Briony liked men. A lot.

“I would have been better off liking shoes than bikes. A pair of stilettos might have helped at that last meeting with the bank.” She bit her lip. “What I really need is a credibility transplant. I’ve got great plans for this place. It could be an attraction instead of a dive if only they’d listen to what I want to do with it.” She sighed. “They might if I were someone else. Or maybe even if I had better shoes.” She kicked her worn Doc Martens at the bar.

“How long have you got?” Rocco asked.

She shrugged. “Less time than I’d like. Couple months before I have to start selling off your bikes to keep the doors open.” She grinned and Rocco scowled at her. “But the biggest issue right now is that the planning department doesn’t want to renew my liquor license.”

“When’s it up?”

“This month.”

“No beer?”

“No beer. And no beer means there’s definitely no money, and then I’m screwed.”

He nodded. “It’ll work out, babes. We’ll think of something before the month is done.” Rocco patted her on the shoulder. “Now go lift a few greenbacks out of that bastard’s pocket, flirt them out if you have to. And quick before Hade or Marnz get in first.”

“Crap.” She, Marnz, and Hade had known each other since they’d played hide-and-seek in the hotel as kids. Hade had calmed down a little since he’d found his girlfriend, Lee Delevigne and given up his claim to the Raising Hellfire Gang’s leadership, and Marnz . . . well, she and Marnz had history. Drunken, unsatisfying history that she mostly forgot about, but still, history. The two men were the closest thing she had to brothers, though. Brothers who liked to make sure she was okay. Loudly. Anyone say protective much? Briony rushed to stop Hade from pushing his tattooed hand any farther into Slick’s face.

“Can I help you?” She reached up to tap Slick on the shoulder.

Hade saw her first and nodded at her. “Guy here wants to know about the hotel. I told him he must be in the wrong place ’cause no one who comes here asks questions.”

Marnz added, “Not if they know what’s good for them.”

“I’ll take it from here. Maybe you could go and check no one’s trying to ask questions outside.” She jerked her head at the two bikers and they got the hint.

“Riiiight. Hope you have a nice evening. I’ll make sure no one parks their bike too close to your car,” said Marnz, giving Briony a look that said he’d rather do a lot more than that.

“Good luck with that. I broke down two blocks away.” The stranger turned to her as Hade and Marnz headed for the door. Briony had to stop herself from sucking all the air out of the room. In a voice that was two parts crushed gravel and one part honey mead, Slick continued, “Interesting place you got here. You always threaten to kneecap your customers?”

Shit, he’d heard everything. Briony’s heart sank into her DM boots. Oh well, might as well go down in flames if I’m going down. “Only ones who deserve it.”

“Touché. Still, you sure you could have taken him?”

“You angling for an arm wrestle?”

Slick laughed, a rich, full, delighted sound. “How about a drink instead?” Again, the gravel-honey-mead-drenched voice, capped off with the most violently green eyes Briony had ever seen. Violent as in bright, but also laced with enough dark backstory spark that Slick could have easily fit in at a Hell’s Boys stare down and come out damn near the top. Must be hiring a whole new type of guy for the planning department these days.

Thing was, the rest of him was clean cut as a priest on Sunday. Short, clipped, black hair. Smooth-shaven, hard-as-a-spanner jaw. Well-cut suit. Bright white shirt and even a tie. Briony couldn’t remember the last time she saw anyone with a tie come to Wilde’s. Still, those eyes. Briony forced herself to exhale, but she couldn’t stop the spokes of overexcited Harley lust-wheels doing burnouts in her stomach. Guy’s said twenty words and you’re panting after him like a teenager? What the hell, girl?

“I like to know whose drink I’m pouring first. You gotta name?”

“Cole.”

Like his hair, black and rich and ready for her to run her fingers through it. Briony’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth and it took her three swallows before she managed to detach it. Suck it up, Wilde. “And what brings you here?”

Slick stroked his chin. “Like I said, car broke down. Didn’t feel like walking too far with bad weather coming.”

As if wanting to back him up, a roll of thunder sounded low and loud outside. A couple of Hell’s Boys cheered from a table by the window. Storms always brought the club good luck.

“You hand over my license and I’ll give you a round on the house,” said Briony, jutting out her jaw.

“License?”

Briony paused. “You’re not from the planning department?”

“Nope.”

“The bank?”

“Nope.”

She gave him a long look. “Your car really broke down?”

“Yep. We can check it out if that’ll make you pour me a drink, but this suit is Armani and I’m not sure you’re the wet T-shirt competition type. Although, you’d wipe the floor with any competition if you ever entered one.”

Briony looked down at the white T-shirt she had under her red leather vest, a vest that proudly bore the Raising Hellfire patch on the back. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Good.” Slick pulled out one of the bar stools that looked like a rat had made a meal out of the black leather. Despite the neat-as-a-pin suit, he didn’t even glance down as he sat.

Briony looked at the clock on the wall behind Slick’s head. It was 7:30. Could he really just be there to drink? “What can I get you?”

“Jack. Neat. Short glass.”

Briony raised an eyebrow and headed behind the bar. “Wouldn’t have picked you for a Jack Daniel’s man,” she said as she poured out the bourbon.

Slick knocked it back, put out his glass for another, and shrugged. “Old habit. You’ll have one?”

“Sure.” She poured herself a shot and downed it. If he wasn’t bank or planning department trouble, what sort of trouble was he? Who cares? Rocco had told her to flirt with the guy, so why the hell not? Wasn’t she just thinking she should be getting out there more? “You’re new in town?”

“Does it show?” When he grinned, his green eyes went from emerald to viper green, a brilliant sheen lighting their depths. Their reflection sent goose bumps over her skin to compete with the lust-burnouts in her stomach. She thought she might have to sit down. Guy’s making you hot and cold? At the same time? Confused much? Briony gave a weak smile and turned her back on Slick, ostensibly to put the bourbon back on the shelf. Hello? Forgot your big-girl undies?

He was flirting fine. If he was lying and he was from the planning department she might get some useful info if she played along. If he really wasn’t, then he was fair game. His wallet and his body. She turned and leaned over the bar, making sure he got a good glance at the peep of black lace she always wore under her red leather.

He glanced down and his mouth twitched. Good. He wasn’t an emerald viper all the way through then. Guy had hot blood just like anyone. So why is he turning you into mush? She straightened. “What street did you say you broke down on?”

“Florence Ave.”

Two blocks away, like he’d said. “And what sort of car do you drive? I can send one of the boys out to make sure you still have tires in the morning.”

“It’s a Corvette. Stingray. Black. But the tires’ll be fine. Anti-theft device on them.”

Briony raised an eyebrow again. “You left a Corvette Stingray on the side of the road and you expect she’ll still be there when you get back?”

“She?”

“You trying to tell me a car like that is anything other than a woman?”

“You trying to tell me you know a woman that goes that fast?” He waited but she wasn’t about to dignify that with an answer. “She’ll be fine.”

She snorted. “You better have another drink.”

He knocked back the bourbon.

“You’re awfully sure of yourself, ain’t you?” she said as he put his glass out for another refill.

“You calling me cocky?”

Cocky. Gah. Briony couldn’t believe the blush she felt heating her neck. “We’re running low on ice. Be right back.” Stalking over to the other end of the bar, she delved into the freezer and shifted things around.

“Can’t decide whether to eat him or spit him out?” Briony jumped as Rocco’s voice came from behind her. She turned to the door and saw his smirk. “Reckon you should do both.”

“Depends who he is.”

“Well, ask him.”

“I did. Said his name’s Cole and he’s not from planning or the bank.”

“And?”

“And what? ‘Hey, Slick, are you a legit, lost, handsome stranger who is waiting for me to lure you into my bed, or are there hidden cameras I don’t know about?’”

“Maybe not in so many words.”

“Good one.”

“You asked him straight if he was from planning or the bank?”

“Yep.”

“Can’t do more than that. Get back there and get him paying for top-shelf stuff. Or better still, get him hammered and steal his wallet. We’ll find out who he is and lift a few notes at the same time. He’s not going to miss them.”

“I’m not stealing the guy’s wallet,” Briony said, waving Rocco off and straightening. But the moment she turned back toward Slick, Briony’s vision was fractured into dizzy splinters . . . green eyes, quizzical eyebrows, nutcracker jaw. Boom. Slick was starting right at her. Briony’s stomach let loose the lust-engines again and their rumbles threatened to fold her in two. What. The. What. A molten panties crush? On a stranger? Really?

Yes, really. One hundred percent proof, top shelf, full horsepower, really. There had been men in and out of Briony’s bed at Wilde’s Hotel, sure. But none of them usually had this sort of effect on her. Then again, Slick wasn’t usual. None of her usual connections a) looked like him, b) had been around since she was knee-high to a grasshopper and c) looked like him.

“Here, drink this.” Rocco pushed something at her and without looking, Briony knocked it back. Her mouth almost sucked itself inside out at the taste. “Jeeezus. What was that?”

“Love potion. Now get in there. You were the one complaining you were supposed to be dating.”

Briony shut her eyes a moment as whatever had been in Rocco’s glass made its battery-acid-way down toward her stomach. By the time she opened them, the taste had receded and she just had a burn somewhere below her heart. Her mantra, If you want it, take it, or fake it till you make it, echoed in her head. She stalked back to Slick.

“Didn’t find any ice?”

She looked at her empty hands and shrugged. The warmth was spreading around her torso now and heading south. Waaaay south. Must ask Rocco for the recipe for his love potion. Or was the burn from looking into Slick’s eyes?

“Interesting place you got here. Owner must have quite a time with you behind the bar.”

“You swear you’re just a lost, handsome stranger?”

Slick laughed. “Nice to know I’m handsome. Whoever it is you were expecting, I’m not him. Another drink?”

Briony let go of the breath she didn’t even know she’d been holding and grabbed the bottle. “Damn good idea.” She poured them both another shot of bourbon and knocked hers back. As the liquor hit the back of her throat, whatever Rocco had given her mixed with the bourbon and ratcheted up the effect of Slick’s lust-pheromone cologne.

A bunch of bikers chose that moment to burst into the bar, full of the smell of thunder clouds, big talk, and clumsy-ass fingers. Briony darted a protective look at the last tray of new glasses that Hade had put back up on the edge of the bar.

“Go,” said Slick. “You’ve got a bar to run. I’m not going anywhere for a while. I was hoping to stay the night.”

Was that glint in his eye meant for her?

“Bri-bird, sweet cheeks, pass me a beer.” One of the bikers who’d just walked in waved her over to their group.

“I’ll be right back,” she said to Slick and let her fingers stray to his hand.

He put his larger hand over hers for the briefest moment, but long enough that the engine in her stomach ratcheted from a low purr to a rumble again. “Good.”

As she poured countless glasses of beer and shots of bourbon, Briony kept sneaking looks at Slick. True to his word, he didn’t leave. In fact, he seemed to be chatting almost amiably with a couple of the Hell’s Boys. In side profile he was every inch a Dark Knight. All he was missing was a cape. Holy hormones, Batman. Whatever had been in Rocco’s potion was hella powerful. Happily, her bartender, the night’s solitary staff member, clocked in at 7:30, so Briony was able to sidle down the bar and leave the other woman to pouring beer.

“You came back. Thought you might run off there for a second.” Crushed-gravel-honey-mead. Sheesh.

“Why would I run away?”

He shrugged and his eyes darkened. “It’s happened before.”

Someone ran out on him? Seriously? Her face must have betrayed her disbelief. He smiled and the viper came back into his eyes.

“Okay,” she said, the liquor, potion, and pheromones loosening her tongue. “You can stop it now. If you’re trying to play the wounded hero card, you’ve come to the wrong place. These guys have more wounds than I know what to do with and I’m one of the only women who puts up with it. If you’re looking for a room discount, you’re out of luck too. You’re also wearing the wrong type of jacket. Now if you’re looking to offer me a pile of money, maybe buy me a few more drinks, take me to dinner, then perhaps we could work something out.”

He laughed, throwing his head back. His posture changed and his shoulders, as if they’d been held back, relaxed and broadened. “It’s a quiet night, surely it doesn’t take two of you to run this bar? How about we start with a full tour. Your girl there looks like she’s got things covered.”

A full tour? Of her bedroom? Anyone say jumping the gun? “A tour?”

“This is a hotel, isn’t it? I think I mentioned my car broke down . . .”

“Right. Sure.” Briony checked and the bar seemed reasonably calm. She could duck out for a bit and trust that there would be at least some unbroken glasses when she got back. Rocco caught her eye and made a pushing motion with his hands. All right already.

“One sec.” She grabbed the half tray of glasses and put them on the shelf behind the bar before she turned back to Slick. “This way.” Briony grabbed the quarter-full bottle of bourbon, stepped out from behind the bar, and headed through the doors into the hotel’s main reception area, past the curved staircase that led up to the bedrooms above the bar, mindful of the tall dark stranger towering behind her as she went. If he’d had a shadow, it would have completely covered her body. Enveloped it. Enfolded it. Briony’s skin goosed again and she turned, but Slick was still a few steps behind. She could have sworn he’d touched her. Her bare arm still tingled from his fingertips and she cursed Rocco. Love potion? Knock-out potion, more like.

She shook her head to try and clear it and then there he was, his hand on the door, pushing it open and ushering her through. As his hand touched her back for real, the goose bumps blossomed again, and this time also there was no mistaking the thrum of heat that started up under her jeans as she took a big breath of his fresh, minty scent. Maybe she wouldn’t lift his wallet, but she was going to encourage that suit jacket off his shoulders. And those pants. And that tie. If her body could respond so willingly to the smallest of touches, a night with Slick promised to be a whole lot more interesting than standing behind the bar with men she’d known her whole life. Especially considering she’d sworn she wouldn’t date another biker if her life depended on it. What’s more, Slick hadn’t balked when she’d told him to shower her with money.

The door closed behind them and the quiet almost echoed after the ruckus of the bar. No one was behind the desk; in fact, no one was in the hotel area, period. No guests, no staff, no one. She’d had to let her last housekeeper go the week before and already she could see dust settling on the skirting boards. If she ever got to remodel the place like she wanted, it would be a whole lot more modern. She’d keep some of the details that gave it charm, but get rid of the fussy cornicing detail that was currently crumbling with age. She looked up to the airy ceiling, high above where the staircase reached the other floor and saw the cobwebs ringing the walls and when she pulled her gaze away, the booking register lay open on the empty desk, an accusingly blank expanse of white, lined paper. Anyone sensible would be taking the Knight Industries’ money and running. This place was a crumbling money pit. But it was her money pit. And the place she’d called home her whole life.

“Not exactly bustling.”

Briony bristled. “It’s a quiet night. Tuesdays always are.” This was her problem right here. People used to come to Wilde’s to mingle with the Hell’s crew. It was just dirty and dangerous enough that the tourist dollar made it through the door, instead of being stolen out of tourist pockets. The gang’s leadership had made a pact with her father that nothing really dark would ever come through the doors at Wilde’s and they’d stuck to it. Or at least tried to. A little bike leather made the place exciting and even a little glamorous rather than dangerous. A few years back, though, there had been some trouble. The gang had fallen on hard times and harder members. There were fights. Every day. Every night. When word got around that Wilde’s was actually wild, things started to quiet down till they dried up altogether. But she was going to change that. She had to.

“I imagine it was beautiful. In its day.”

Briony checked that Slick wasn’t poking fun but his face was serious. “It was.” She looked up at the red expressionist painting behind the reception desk and wondered, as she always did, what her mom would have made of her as a grown woman. “My mom was a painter, did all the designs and detail herself, but she died, so, there you go.” She took a breath to steady herself. “But it was. Beautiful. And it will be again.”

He was silent. A silent lost stranger after a room for a night. What the heck? Briony let her planned renovation of the hotel swim in front of her as she’d envisaged it so many times already. “We’re going to redo that wall in red. There’s a guy Rocco knows who does custom wallpaper. We’re going to use the Hell’s logo, the red flames but stylized. And upstairs we’ve got different designs for all the rooms. It’ll be like booking your own holiday suite. There’s no point trying to hide that we’re a biker hotel; we have to celebrate it, like we used to. But the boys’ll have to stay out of upstairs and the new bistro. They can visit the bar, and the tourists can get their titillation from having a beer with the Raising Hellfire Boys, but that’s where it ends.” Although it wasn’t going to get started if she couldn’t hold on to the place let alone raise more money to restore it.

“Impressive.”

“Thanks.”

“I mean it. I wouldn’t have picked pimping out the biker in biker hotel as a business proposition, but you’re right. People do like a taste of danger. It’s sexy.”

Briony turned to the dark stranger and let his viper eyes strip her bare. She shuddered at the raw lust in his gaze. “Sexy?”

He nodded. “A bit like two strangers meeting in the night.” He took a step closer. “And sharing a drink.” Another step. The two of them locked eyes. “Were you going to show me the rest of the place?”

“I was.” The love potion and bourbon thickened her voice, making it sultry, a match for his gravelly tone. She cleared her throat. “There are fifteen rooms upstairs and another ten in the other wing. The bar you’ve seen, there’s a restaurant and kitchen in the other wing, too. In the summer the pool gets a lot of use.” Slick stripped down to his briefs. Cool water pearling down his naked chest. Must. Get. Naked. Now.

Briony shook her head a little to clear it. She needed to take charge. Her life was falling apart around her in every direction, but this she could control. As long as she didn’t let the man in front of her take over. An idea looped through her mind with gray silk fingers. She reached up and slowly, deliberately, undid his gray silk tie. “You’re not on duty, whatever it is that you do? Although now that we’ve established you’re not about to report this place to the planning department or the bank it doesn’t really matter what you do in the day. Night’s here and it’s dark and wet out.” She put a finger to his lips. “You want to see where the night takes us?”

His eyes flashed green. “No one from out there is going to mind?” He jerked his thumb at the door to the bar they’d just come through.

She arched an eyebrow at him.

“If that’s a no, then I’m all yours.” A smirk appeared on Slick’s face as his eyes flashed viper green.

“That’s all I need to know. Better clear your diary, you’re going to be tied up for a while.” Briony handed him the bottle and watched his throat as he took a slug of the liquor, wishing he’d spill a little so she could her lick it off. Patience, lady. Dragging her eyes away from him, she started toward her lockup where privacy was guaranteed and she could forget all about the worries of the hotel.

Skin buzzing, nerves clanging like brass bells, Briony threw his tie over her shoulder as casually as she could, but adrenaline pumped through her at the thought of taking control of him. She glanced behind her at his clenched fists and her goose bumps deepened.