Delicious

Why now? Why this woman?



She moved in, parted her lips. Luc widened his stance, bracing himself for the first electric lick, his whole system jacked up on lust and need to possess. Then Alyssa exhaled on the sensitive head of his dick, and he shivered. Sensation rioted, and he held his breath. Trembled.



Her tongue peeked out. It was the most fucking erotic thing he’d ever seen. Closer, closer . . .



“Hello?” a woman called from the dining room. “Anyone here?”



Her heels clicking across the hardwood floors, toward the kitchen, finally registered in Luc’s lust-saturated brain. Shit!



Alyssa rocked back on her heels, then stood. She cast a regretful glance down at his cock, then brushed a soft hand across his face.



Even her hand on his cheek sent sparks colliding inside him, and he cursed and pulled away, tucking himself back into his pants and righting his shirt.



As painful as this was, maybe he should be grateful for the reprieve. Whoever had arrived had just saved him from making a terrible mistake. Because no way would he have stopped at a blow job.



Regret softened Alyssa’s face. “Luc—”



“See who it is,” he barked.



She sighed and made her way out of the kitchen to intercept the new arrival. Luc stood behind a counter, panting, willing his cock to stand down. He couldn’t be meeting his brigade for the week with an erection like this.



Why did Alyssa drive him to reckless acts he knew weren’t good for him? Why did he let her?



Moments later, she returned with one of the sous chefs, Misa. He remembered her résumé, and she seemed both competent and excited for the job. A little starstruck, which always made Luc shake his head. Despite having a lot of bestselling cookbooks and a solid reputation in the culinary world, he found the whole “fame” thing odd. Thankfully, the petite Hispanic woman got over it quickly and took direction well.



The rest of the staff appeared in the next few minutes, and Luc talked them through the process. He assigned duties, and they cooked a few of the specials as a team to ensure that everyone knew what to do and they worked out any kinks before opening their doors. Tomorrow would be their mock service night, so they’d be open only to people Alyssa had invited, who had agreed to provide feedback.



She excused herself a moment later to confer with the waitstaff gathered in the dining room. As the smells of the kitchen wafted around Luc, and he looked around at the smart, proficient team of chefs Alyssa had assembled—without his help—he was impressed all over again. She was a damn smart woman.



And admiring her was only going to screw with his head more. Already, he wanted her so badly he could barely concentrate. Liking more than her body would only be a double dose of stupid. But he feared it was already too late. What would happen after her evening at the club, when they went to her little house—and they were alone?



MEETINGS concluded, Alyssa climbed into the SUV beside Luc in Bonheur’s parking lot. The heavy silence between them jangled her nerves. He’d definitely put off the vibe that he didn’t want to continue what Misa had interrupted. But his erection had risen again the minute they were alone, unmistakable and unflagging.



She tapped her toe, thinking. Everything inside her wanted to throw her arms around him and entice him again. The other half . . . Well, the off-putting vibe was strong, and she wasn’t dumb. He was close to the breaking point. After she got him into bed, she hoped he’d relax and conversation would follow. Until then, all she could do was continue to tease him and deny her own needs.



She reached out, touched his shoulder. “The meetings went well. The staff seems very excited. Thank you for staying this week.”



Luc jolted at her touch, then relaxed. “I needed to live up to our bargain. You had every right to call me on it.”



“Actually, I’m sorry about that. I feel strongly about not forcing people to be where they don’t want to.” The truth, but it made her wince. Pray to God he didn’t ask her why. “If I hadn’t advertised the fact you’d be here opening week and had so much of my savings into the place, I would have let you walk.”



He turned to her with a puzzled scowl. “After the way I—After that night, I don’t deserve your compassion. I know I was hard on you.”



“Luc, I’m not a hothouse flower.”



“No,” he agreed immediately. “You’re far stronger than I suspected. But that doesn’t erase the fact I wasn’t gentle with you. I’m not proud of that night. I’m . . . sorry.”



“I liked it. I’m not sorry at all.” Her words came out in a passionate rush. “Don’t you dare be sorry, either.”



He didn’t comment. Instead, he seemed to mull her answer over. “What if Deke had stayed that night? Would you have regretted that?”



Where was that question coming from? Luc was fishing for something. How much should she reveal?



Finally, she shook her head. “I still would have been with you.”



Luc’s jaw dropped. Then he closed his mouth, shaking his head as he sped down the road. “You barely knew me. We’d met . . . what, twice before that night?”



Three times, actually. But the first time, she’d been working—taking off her clothes. They hadn’t been formally introduced. The other times had been casual gatherings. “I suspected right away we’d be good together. I was right.”



Pasting on a smile, Alyssa turned away. Hopefully, Luc wouldn’t dig any further into that topic. She’d have to keep playing it casual. He wasn’t ready to hear that he’d rocked her to her core the night they’d spent together, that she’d loved his toe-curlingly intimate conversation.



No woman has ever given me such pleasure. I could drown in you forever. Touch me, sugar. Yeeessss . . .



As they approached the club, Alyssa filed the memory away. In silence, Luc stopped the car and shoved it into park. She reached for the door handle, and he grabbed her wrist, staying her.



“We’re good together sexually, God knows. But that’s it.”



A dozen comebacks ran through her head, most on the theme that he couldn’t truly know his statement to be fact because they hadn’t tried anything beyond sex. But contradicting him would only make him more resistant. And that was counterproductive. She had to keep playing her trump card.



“I never said I was talking about anything but sex.”



Before he could respond, she jerked from his grasp and exited the SUV. She burst into the club through the back door, Luc at her heels.



“Why do I get the feeling you’re not being completely honest?”



Refusing to allow herself to be rattled, she kept walking. “I can’t answer that. Nor do I have time to try. I have a business to run. If you’d like to go back to the house, I’ll have Tyler give me a ride home when the club is closed.”



Just then, her bouncer approached, wearing two days’ growth of beard, a khaki shirt with Bettie Page in a bikini and fishnet stockings, and a mischievous smile. He stepped up beside her, slung his arm around her waist, hand caressing her hip. Then he buried his face in her neck and inhaled.



“Mmm. I’ll be more than happy to give you a ride, baby.”



Alyssa raised a brow at Tyler. But this shit was par for his course.



Luc gritted his teeth. “I’ll wait for you and take you home.”



Since showing annoyance at Tyler’s display would not deter him, she simply smiled. “Great. I need to make sure everyone’s got the right costumes and props. Last night was a mess. Thank God most everyone was too drunk to notice.”



Tyler wrapped his arm around her again. “Wait. I came back here to tell you that your least favorite asshole is outside with his friends.”



“Primpton? Awwww . . .” She sighed. “What does he want now? Obviously attention. What’s his cause du jour?”



“The usual. Shutting you down in the name of morality.”



“This is the city councilman?” Luc asked. “He protests your business?”



“With revolting regularity.” She leaned against the wall and shut her eyes. As if she didn’t have enough to worry about. The restaurant’s mock service was tomorrow. Luc was surprisingly edgy. She had to be at the top of her game to get his attention. What she didn’t need today was Primpton giving her shit.



“What do you want to do, baby?” Tyler asked softly.



He knew this crap bothered her. He’d caught her alone and crying once after Primpton had publicly called her some really ugly names.



“Ignore him and hope he’ll go away or risk him swaying the public to boycott Bonheur?”



“That’s the big question.” Tyler smiled grimly.



“What exactly does he do?” Luc asked.



“He’s just an ass.” The last thing she wanted was for Luc to see an elected official calling her a whore. It would cement that as truth in his mind.



“It’s worse today,” Tyler admitted grimly. “He brought the local press with him.”



Damn it! Fate had it in for her. “He’s trying to scare people away from the restaurant’s opening.”



“That would be my guess.”



“He hasn’t had any luck in shutting down the club yet,” Luc pointed out. “Maybe no one is listening to him.”



“He’s got his followers, and he’s gaining power. Every time Primpton stages one of these protests, it hits me in the bank account. The married, over-thirty crowd is one of the most lucrative, and I’m guessing that men who’ve gotten an earful from their wives stay away, at least for a while. I recover eventually, but I worry the restaurant could be different. I’d been hoping for crossover business, but now . . .”



“You mean from men who might take their wives to Bonheur, hoping to see you?”



Luc caught on quick.



“Me or some of the other girls. Several of the dancers have elected to give up the stage and wait tables.”



“Isn’t that a pay cut?”



“Absolutely. But some of them are smart enough to know they can’t dance around a pole for the rest of their lives, so they’re waiting tables to make ends meet and going to school during their off-hours.” She shrugged. “It’s tough, but doable. If I did it, anyone can.”



Surprise crossed Luc’s face. “You went to college while . . . dancing?”



God, did he think she had no other aspiration than to take off her clothes? She lifted her chin. “Double major. Business admin and communications. Last year, I finished an MBA. I’m not just a pole dancer, Mr. Traverson; I’m a business owner. It behooves me to know what the hell I’m doing. Now, I’m off to discourage Primpton.”



Alyssa turned toward the stairs, bristling. She shouldn’t be surprised that Luc didn’t see beyond her sexy façade. The first time they’d met, she’d been wearing a G-string and pasties. She’d had little opportunity to improve her image with him since.



“Isn’t the city councilman outside?” Luc looked confused.



“Yes, but do you think I’m going to meet the man vilifying me in a mini and garters?”



LUC watched Alyssa, fixated, the front of his jeans expanding, as she disappeared to the private upper level of Sexy Sirens. His head was spinning.



A double major? And a master’s degree? To say he’d had no idea would be a colossal understatement. He’d suspected that behind the woman’s sharp blue eyes was a lot of intelligence. The ambition surprised him. Business owner or not, that was a lot of education for a stripper.



But now she was also a restaurant owner.



Was Bonheur part of some life change/self-improvement plan? And what about her waitstaff?



Though it chafed him, Luc turned to Tyler. The bouncer stared at the empty stairs, his tongue virtually hanging out of his mouth. Luc knew the bouncer wanted her. Hell, despite Alyssa’s protests, he wouldn’t be surprised if they were lovers. But Tyler’s expression said he admired Alyssa, had feelings for her. Was it mutual?



A sudden pang of jealousy smacked Luc right between his pectorals. He fisted his hands. Could she actually love the mouthy slab of beef?



It didn’t matter. He had questions . . . and Tyler had answers. Whether Tyler and Alyssa were burning up the sheets or having an affair of the heart was none of his concern—even if it bugged the hell out of him.



“Where did Alyssa go to school?”



“Why the fuck do you care?”



Luc shrugged, playing casual. “Curious.”



“LSU, Lafayette campus. She graduated with honors, too. She’s smart in a way that’s so fucking sexy. It’s hard not to think with your dick when she’s around.” Tyler pierced him with a laser stare. “Isn’t that right?”



All too true . . . “And the waitstaff at Bonheur? Are they all in school and elected to wait tables?”



“Most. Every few months, Alyssa gathers the girls to talk about life after the pole. If they want to get an education, she helps them find tuition assistance and apply for scholarships. She encourages them to make more of themselves. A couple of the girls just want to keep better hours so they have more time with their kids.”