“So, how do I look?” I ask, turning away from my bedroom mirror to face Hannah. Instead of the bright red, tonight, I’m opting for something darker. I don’t want to admit that I’m dressing up for Jake again, but as soon as I got home from work, I couldn’t imagine going back to Club Jasmine wearing what I wore for work.

So I found this, and I’ll admit it feels even more like coming back to who I am. Dark makeup and a dark dress help slim my frame, while I’ve got on four-inch open-toe heels that make my legs and ass look good. “I can’t believe I’m going back there,” I admit to Hannah, who’s sitting on my bed and giving me an critiquing look. “I mean, after what happened, I figured Club Jasmine would be one step from the seventh circle of hell in terms of places I didn’t want to visit.”

“So why are you doing it again?” Hannah asks, and I turn, adjusting the gold chain belt that I have around my waist.

“I feel guilty for leaving him there,” I lie. Well, I do, sort of, but I’m also obviously attracted to him. “So how do I look?”

“Like a five-hundred-per-hour hooker,” Hannah jokes. “Maybe a thousand if you do something about that damn hair.”

I scowl. “Not funny.”

Ignoring Hannah, I turn to address the only furry critic in the room. “You think I look good, don’t you, Mr. Felix?”

Felix, perched on the chair next to my makeup table, stares as if he gives zero fucks with his grumpy face. “Rowr.”

I stick my tongue out at him. “Fine, forget you. I’ll remember that come feeding time.”

Mr. Felix still doesn’t give a fuck, giving a yawn and resuming his mean face.

“Really, you look beautiful,” Hannah says, dropping her humor. But she pauses, a serious expression coming over face. “Still, though, I wonder . . .”

I turn to appraise her. “Wonder what?”

She swings her leg over the side of my bed and gets up, shaking her head slowly. “Do you think you should be seeing him outside of work?”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“It was all fun and games before, and if it were anyone else, I still would tell you to go for it. But Jake is your boss now. And considering how you tried to screw his brains out on your first meeting, I’d say y’all aren’t starting on the right foot professionally.” She takes a deep breath. “I just don’t think this is a good look.”

I place my hands on my hips, trying to think of every damn excuse I can to justify going. “Just because he’s now my boss doesn’t mean I can’t go meet with him. Which he guilt tripped me into doing, I might add. Plus, I still have to give him his wallet.”

“Yeah, I know that but—” Hannah starts, but I hold up a hand.

“And who’s saying I’m going to sleep with him?”

At least not tonight.

Hannah opens her mouth to speak and then sees the look on my face. I’ve seen it before. It’s one I’ve inherited from my mother and my sister, the one that says Proceed with caution. Your ass is on thin ice. She takes another deep breath and lowers her voice. “Look, all I’m trying to say is that it’s different when you work with someone. Especially someone who’s your boss. If this is going to be friendly cordial, keep it friendly cordial. I just don’t think you should let it go beyond that, even if that’s how this all started. You don’t want people saying shit around the office.”

I want to deny Hannah’s words, but I have to admit that the same thoughts occurred to me as soon as Jake asked. But I’ve tried to ignore them. I just want an ending to our first night, dammit! I’m hungry for it. I want to know what lies behind those gorgeous eyes and that sun-bright smile. And yeah, part of me feels guilty and wants to make it up to him for leaving him like that in the club. That was a dick move on my part.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” I finally say. “You’re right. It won’t be good if this turns into something else. So I’ll keep it all business. Strictly professional.” I almost sound like I’ve convinced myself. “I’ll go there, give him his wallet back, let him know I’m truly sorry for everything, and leave it at that.”

Hannah lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Don’t be mad at me. I just want what’s best for you.”

“I know,” I say. “Come here.” I hold my arms out to her and we embrace. “You’re not Mindy, but you make a decent placeholder.”

Hannah laughs. “Oh, shut up.”

Mr. Felix just rawrs.

* * *

On the way over to the club, Hannah and I talk very little. My mind is filled with what I’m going to say to Jake. The first night I met him, my mind was overrun with hormones and I couldn’t even focus on what he was saying. All I could see were those eyes that could command me to do anything. But now . . .

We pull up to the club. Surprisingly, there’s a lot of cars for a Monday night. This is a nightclub, not a sports bar showing Monday Night Football.

“Remember,” Hannah says as I get out, “keep it business.”

“Right. All business,” I say as we hug briefly. “I’ll be back by ten. Jake said he’ll give me a ride home, but I’ll be home by eleven at the latest, okay?”

“Okay,” Hannah says, giving me a look in the eyes. “Ten would be better.”

“Okay, Mom,” I half tease, patting her on the cheek. “You know he said you could come too.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he would like that,” Hannah teases, giving me a wiseass grin.

The line isn’t out the door like it was Saturday night, but still, the place is fairly busy as I go inside. The music is good, more low-key than it was over the weekend. Thankfully, Jake is expecting me. I doubt I’d get in right now otherwise. “Hi,” I tell the doorman. “Mr. Stone is expecting me. Roxy Price?”

The doorman, still one of the MIB crew, checks his tablet before nodding. “Just a moment, Miss Price.”

He turns and talks quietly into his earpiece before nodding. “Is there a problem?”

“Not at all,” the doorman says as another of the MIB come over. “John, here, will take you to see Mr. Stone.”

“Right this way,” John, who looks like he should be in the Secret Service instead of working nightclub security, says with a slight bow of his head. As we make our way through the club, I see that my first impression was wrong. This place is nearly packed.

I think the difference is the clientele. Over the weekend, most of the clubbers were younger, twenty- and thirty-somethings. This group is at least a decade older, and the music reflects it. I’m hearing some stuff that hasn’t been in heavy rotation since the turn of the millennium. Then again, Will Smith is pretty smooth on Switch.

As John walks with me past the bar, I feel a moment of rising anxiety as I look around for the creepy bastard who tried to drug me, but I don’t see him. John notices and gives me a reassuring smile. “All clear tonight, Miss Price. Come, Mr. Stone is waiting for you upstairs.”

I look up and see Jake leaning on the railing of the VIP section, giving me a little wave. I wave back, and John leads me up, giving me the same little nod before he peels off to watch the steps to the VIP level. I’m surprised when I see that Jake’s alone up here. We have the whole level to ourselves.

“You’re looking dapper,” I comment as he comes over. He’s changed from the suit he wore to work into a slightly tighter fitting, brighter gray suit that just barely gleams in the club lights. “How many suits do you own, anyway?”

“Enough,” he says easily, and as he steps closer, I’m just staggered again by his magnetism. He has this confident ease about him that isn’t cocky. It’s more like he’s saying Yes, I have the looks, but I’m more than that. “Come on, I have a booth for us.”

He leads me over to a nice booth, all done in black velvet with a low ebony table in the middle. “Let me get you a drink,” he says, signaling the waitress. “A Little Mermaid,” he says, “and a Highlander.”

I give him a raised eyebrow, and he chuckles. “You’ll like it, relax. You look amazing, by the way. Love what you did with your eyes. It totally changes your expression from work.”

His eyes roam over my face, causing my skin to feel like I’ve got a low grade sunburn. I feel sexy, and when I do a switch on my legs, crossing my right over my left, his eyes watch every movement. I love the way he makes me feel. It’s like we never left off. “Are you saying I looked bad at work?” I ask playfully. “Less feminine?”

Jake licks his lips and laughs. “Hardly. But you looked scared out of your mind. Not like you do now. You look at home.”

I shrug, reaching into my purse. “Here’s your wallet. Uh, just to let you know, I robbed you blind.”

He chuckles and takes it from my hand. “I doubt that.”

Without even opening it, he takes the wallet and slides it into his jacket pocket. I stare at him for a moment, shocked. “You’re not going to count the money?”

“I trust you,” he says confidently. “You look more like an angel than a thief.”

I blush, then I laugh. “Okay, just don’t get mad when you get the credit card bill for that trip to Hawaii I booked, complete with matching Louis Vuitton luggage.”

Jake laughs again. “You’re not the type for LV luggage.”

The waitress comes back with our drinks. His Highlander looks interesting, almost like root beer, of all things. “What the hell is that?”

“Two ounces Japanese sake, two ounces of Scotch whisky, and the rest is Coke over crushed ice,” he says, lifting the clear beer mug. “Basically a Duncan Macleod, but we use real Highland scotch, so we renamed it.”

I nod and take a sip of mine. It’s fruity, with bright highlights, and I can already tell I’m going to have to go easy on it. I’ve got work in the morning, and I’m not supposed to be going home with Jake. “Damn, this is good.”

“Thank you. I had a hand in making it,” Jake says, sipping his mug.

“Did you? And did you have a hand in the drink the first night too?” I ask, and Jake shakes his head.

“No, wish I could say I did. The name alone is nice, though, don’t you think?”

I laugh as I take another sip of my drink. “It certainly makes memories. And the club?”

“Nathan and I had an architect help with the details, but we chose most of the layout. I wanted something different from the average club.”

“It’s one of the nicest I’ve ever been in,” I say honestly. “Nothing like Trixie’s.”

Jake takes a slow sip of his Highlander and sets it down, raising an eyebrow. “Trixie’s?”

I nod. “The club I used to sing at.” And shake my ass like nobody’s business. “It was my favorite place back home.”

“You’re a singer?” he says with some surprise. “You’re just full of little talents, aren’t you? What kind of music?”

“Nothing anymore,” I say, feeling the pain in my chest that comes with talking about it. Those days are gone. Despite Mindy’s encouragement, I haven’t given much thought to singing. But looking over the railing of the VIP lounge at the stage, I feel that same longing and admit to myself that there’s a void where singing used to be in my heart. I force myself to look away, feeling a lump form in my throat. “I stopped when I went back to college.”

“Why?” Jake asks, leaning forward. “I can see in your eyes that you practically want to run down there right now and grab a mic.”

“Yeah, well,” I say softly, shaking my head, “I didn’t think it was right that I wasn’t really making any money doing it and instead was mooching off my mom and stepfather. I thought it was time to move on, support myself.”

Jake nods, but he doesn’t look convinced. “Let me ask you, which makes you happier, singing or working at Franklin?”

“Singing,” I answer without even pausing for breath. “I don’t care what. Rock, pop, just about anything but country. But . . . like I said, I’m done living off someone else, Jake.”

Jake hums, then finishes the rest of his drink. “Mind singing something for me? Call it . . . call it your penance for accidentally stealing my wallet.”

“I don’t think so,” I say. “I haven’t sung in so long, I’m pretty sure my voice would crack. I don’t want to burst your eardrums. I thought I killed you once as it is.”

Jake chuckles. He looks like he wants to press the issue but doesn’t. Instead, he leans back, crossing his hands over his left knee. “Point taken. For now, but I’m not giving up just yet.”

I’m almost tempted to say that I could maybe sing a little tonight, but before I can, Nathan comes up the stairs, cursing and yelling into the air. “I told you to check the fucking hidden costs, didn’t I? In fact, I remember specifically telling you, ‘No way in hell should you sink your money in this, Titus. It’s a golden turd.’ Now you’re calling me to bitch that you’re losing money? Get the fuck outta’ here!”

“You guys been friends long?” I ask as Nathan heads off to the other end of the VIP section, where I see a laptop on one of the tables there.

“Since childhood,” he says. “He moved into the neighborhood when he was nine, and we’ve been friends ever since.”

“He certainly has a way with words.”

Jake chuckles. “That he does. Not always to his benefit.”

I nod, smirking. “I think his first few words to me were sleazy broad, and I’m sure fuck was in the first sentence.”

Jake swallows, looking embarrassed. “Was it? I’ll have to talk to him.”

I shake my head, waving him off. “I was running out of that back room. He had no idea who the hell I was.”

Nathan comes over, his eyes twinkling in curiosity like he’s waiting to be introduced.

Jake gives him a head nod. “Nathan, this is Roxy. She brought back my wallet. Not bad for a sleazy broad, huh?”

Nathan looks abashed, but he laughs. “You’re right. Roxy, I apologize. My mouth gets the better of me sometimes. I looked at the video, and I promise you, if that asshole who tried to drug you comes in, he’s gonna find out I haven’t forgotten the old ways from the neighborhood.”

I offer my hand, and Nathan shakes it, then kisses my knuckles. “I like this side of you a lot more than the first impression,” I say.

“Of course. You know—” Nathan says when suddenly, there’s a crash down below. A drunken woman decided that Club Jasmine’s chairs were just perfect for her recreation of The Pussycat Dolls’ Buttons dancing, and she’s knocked a table, a waitress, and a bunch of other stuff onto the floor. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Excuse me.”

Nathan heads for the stairs, talking loudly in a juicy Bronx accent that I’m sure has plenty of people quivering in fear even as I try to hold in my laughter. “You know who he reminds me of?”

“Who?” Jake asks, and I laugh again. “No, really, who?”

“Joe Pesci. Like, how he looked in Goodfellas. Like Nathan would totally be at ease carrying a baseball bat right now.”

“Oh, don’t give him any ideas,” Jake says, chuckling. “Nathan’s a genius when it comes to making money, but there’s a reason he’s not working for a firm. He tried working for Goldman Sachs right out of college and ended up getting fired.”

“Why?” I ask, and Jake laughs.

“One of the Vice Presidents had a proposal, and Nathan told him in his typical manner that he disagreed with it. When the VP decided to defend himself by saying that one of the Seven Dwarves shouldn’t be worrying about what real men said, Nathan decided to get even. By the time Nathan was done, the VP was crying. I still don’t know how he didn’t get arrested for that one.”

“Damn, and you’re business partners with him?”

Jake laughs. “Don’t let his foul mouth fool you. He's sharp as a blade when it comes to running a business.”

I nod, intrigued. “Well, maybe I underestimated him then.”

“So, how long have you been working at Franklin Consolidated?” he asks me, changing subjects. “I decided not to pry.”

“For almost a year. I recently got a promotion, so I’m moving up some,” I say with a touch of pride. “Apparently, I’m decent at something, too.”

“That’s nice,” Jake says. “But no offense, you just don’t strike me as the corporate monkey type.”

“I didn’t think I was either. Before going back to school, I was . . . I was more free-spirited.”

Jake hums in appreciation. “You know, I think I saw a hint of that the other night. Unless you’re in a habit of being that . . . free-spirited.”

At the mention of my behavior on Saturday, I feel myself blush all the way to the roots of my hair, and I scratch at my chin. “Yeah . . . about that. I’m embarrassed about that. I’m normally not that hard up,” I say bluntly, feeling my confidence rising. “I’m usually a straight shooter, but I’m not that forward.” I take a deep breath and blurt it out brutally. “It’s been a while—let’s just leave it at that.”

He watches me intently, like he’s studying me. “I believe you.”

I’m tempted by the look in his eyes. He’s so handsome, so confident and assured, that I almost want to slide across the seat and kiss him. I want him to take me in the back and to finish what we started Saturday night, but Hannah’s right. All business, all business, I think to myself. In desperation, I try to think of something else to say. “So . . . how’d you get to where you are at your age? I mean, you’re not that much older than I am, are you?”

“Probably not,” Jake agrees. “I had a fire lit under my ass after I become caretaker for my sister.”

“Your sister?” I ask, surprised. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“Yes, she lives with me. Has ever since our parents passed,” Jake says. He leans forward, and looking at him, I feel like I’m seeing a side of him that few people do, and it’s a side that I want even more than what I saw on Saturday. “I had to grow up quickly.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I say honestly, reaching out and patting his hand. “You must care for her very much.”

The conversation flows, the two of us growing closer as we find so much in common. Besides the surface things like similar tastes in music, we both see the world as a place to stand on your own, to make your own mark somehow. I order another Mermaid, but Jake stops me after my second, and it’s with a shock that I realize it’s near midnight. “Oh, wow,” I say, not slurring very much. “I guess it’s time to go home.”

“Come on, I’ll drive you like I said,” Jake says, helping me to my feet. He’s so close, I can’t help it as I press myself against him, looking in his eyes, and his hand falls to my lower back. He lowers his lips, kissing me softly, and I kiss him back, not with the fiery passion of Saturday night but with something truer.

“Jake . . .” I whisper when I step back, biting my lip in torn desire. “This is the hardest thing I’ve ever said in my life because I want you so fucking badly right now, but I need you to call me a cab. You’re my boss, and we can’t finish what this starts. We need to keep this strictly business.”

Jake swallows, and I feel his hand pull me even tighter, but he stops and lets me go. With a shuddering breath, he nods. “Okay. I’ll have the staff call you a cab.”

I nod and reach down, grabbing my purse. “Thank you. Jake . . . this is like the best club I’ve ever seen, but I don’t think I should come back here. I think you know why.”

Jake swallows and nods. “I do.”

He calls John the security guy over, giving him instructions. John nods, and Jake turns back to me. “You’re all set. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I am, and yes,” I say, giving Jake a smile. “Goodnight.”

John escorts me downstairs and out to the already waiting cab, closing the door for me. Just as the cab gets ready to pull away, I see the door to Club Jasmine open again, and Jake steps out, giving me a wave. As the cab pulls away and I give him a wave back, there’s something inside me that says this is just the beginning.