Chapter Three
Lauren was drowning in paperwork, tattoo terms, and the many intricate details of running a business for the first time in her life. If Frank had made a ghostly visitation, she would have screamed at him for getting her into this mess.
Always helpful, Jasmina rubbed Lauren’s back and pointed at the computer screen in Frank’s office. “These codes are for the ink we order. The letters behind the numerals represent the various colors.” She moved her finger to different numbers. “These indicate the stuff we sell up front—T-shirts, belt buckles, posters… If something isn’t moving as it should, there’s a GRO behind it.”
“What’s that stand for?”
“Get rid of. You know, send it back to the vendor. You don’t have to worry about this. I’ll take care of it.”
“I should know how the place operates, especially the accounting.”
Jasmina hugged her. “You’re doing fine. No one expects you to know everything in one day.”
She’d already been at it for three days, and their system still mystified her. Although she was fairly competent at math and a whiz at spreadsheets, she found it hard to concentrate when endless personal bills were coming due and no money was coming in. “Where are the notes you made?”
Jasmina handed over several sheets.
“Thanks.” She paged through them. “Let me study this, and if I need help, I’ll call you, okay?”
“You’ll do fine.” Jasmina smiled. “You worry too much when you don’t have to. We’re all here for you.”
Lauren’s stomach churned. She’d never felt worse or lonelier, because she wasn’t going to be there for them.
…
The following day, she had the codes memorized, but Dante had added new, cryptic notes to several spreadsheets.
She hated to bother him for an explanation. Worse, she didn’t trust herself around him. He smelled too good and had a saint’s patience with her. No question she posed was too small for him to stop whatever he was doing and give her his full attention.
Like yesterday. She needed paper for the printer but couldn’t find where they stashed the supplies. Jasmina was busy talking a client into getting additional tats. Van Gogh was in the john, possibly contemplating the end of the world. Dante was busy, too, staring at some kind of report on his computer screen.
Reluctantly, she rapped on the jamb.
He glanced over and turned around in his chair. “What’s up?”
Her lust. It kicked in so hard, she was perspiring. “I hate to bother you.”
“You’re not.”
Her few dates hadn’t been so focused on her when she’d been with them. Warmth built between her legs. Foolishly, her soul yearned for him despite how idiotic that was. Even good guys like Dante weren’t around forever, especially with ordinary women like her who had no chance to snag a guy for a lifetime. “Can you tell me where the printer paper is? I used the last bundle. I couldn’t find any more. Do I need to order it?”
“Nope. We have a bunch. Follow me.”
“No.” She put out her hand. It shook. Quickly, she lowered it. “Just point the way.”
“I need to stretch my legs.” He led her to the back room. Instead of plates and dishes in the cabinets, there were office supplies. “Will two be enough?” He grabbed them. “Or would you like three?”
“Two are fine.”
He not only carried them to her office but filled the machine, checked the toner, and made certain everything was running smoothly. Then he gave her a warm smile that curled her toes and left.
He was killing her.
Maybe Jasmina could help with the unknown codes. Lauren called her on the intercom and explained the problem.
Loud male laughter poured from up front. “Sorry, that’s beyond what I do. It’s best you ask Dante.”
With no other choice, she called him back into the office.
He rapped lightly on the open door. “Hey.”
“Hi. I hate to bother you again…”
“You’re still not.” He grinned easily. “What did I do this time?”
Besides haunt her every waking moment? His easygoing smile and attitude made her long to know him better. And that scared the crap out of her. He chased away her worry about money and the future, if only for the few moments they were together, and she found herself craving that more and more. “I don’t understand your newest notes.” She pointed to the spreadsheet.
He gripped the back of her chair and leaned toward the computer.
His warmth enveloped her. Light-headed, she strained to breathe.
“This is about paperwork that needs to be filed with the State.” He highlighted the portion on the screen. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll take care of it. This one is for the Feds.” He put the cursor on that part.
“Did we get fined for doing something wrong?”
“Nope. This stuff comes up regularly.” He gave her a curious look. “Do you want me to explain it to you? I’d be happy to.”
“What about your customers?”
“I don’t have one for ten minutes.” He pulled a chair over. Their knees touched.
The heat from his body registered clear to her scalp.
He looked at her expectantly. “Ready?”
Before she could speak, she had to clear her throat. “As much as I’ll ever be.”
“It’s easy.” He took her hand.
Her pulse sprinted. “Maybe for you. But I need you to start at the basics.”
“No prob. This is a computer screen.” He pointed her finger at it. “And this is the keyboard.” He moved their hands over it.
She laughed. “Duh.”
“Ah, you’re ready for the advanced explanation, huh?”
Her heart kept skipping at his teasing. Her hand tingled where he touched her. “Not if you’re going to take the laptop apart and show me its guts.”
“That’s your second lesson.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Your third will be a computer tech teaching both of us how to put it back together. It’s best we keep this simple for now. This is a desk…”
Laughing, she slapped his arm. “Be serious.”
“Sure you want that?”
Her insides went gooey, but she couldn’t succumb to her attraction. “If I want to learn the business, I better.”
“That settles it. No more fooling around, right?”
She nodded grudgingly.
He didn’t look too happy, either, but did go through each note he’d written and explained the paperwork to her. Something to do with local codes and regulations.
She didn’t catch much of what he said, too attuned to how near he was. His deep voice stirred something inside her. His playful manner made her want everything he had to give.
What seemed like mere seconds later, Jasmina rapped on the jamb. “Dante, your customer’s here.”
“Thanks.” He turned back to Lauren. “I hope that all made sense. Let me know if you have questions about anything else.”
She was certain she’d have more but was afraid to be near him again. He made her yearn for the impossible. He was becoming too much a part of her life when he shouldn’t. In no time at all, they’d be going their separate ways.
…
For the next two weeks, Lauren struggled through business matters alone and wished she were anywhere else but at Wicked Brand.
She propped her elbows on Frank’s desk, now hers, and buried her face in her hands. At last she understood the books and system and had gone through them endlessly, looking for stuff that wasn’t there. Mainly a fat profit she could borrow from to meet her most basic expenses, like food.
The business was barely surviving, which wouldn’t entice anyone to buy the damn thing. Not even a hedge fund manager who didn’t know what to do with his billions. Raising prices wasn’t an option. The market simply wouldn’t bear it in this crappy economy. People would pay more for a gallon of milk or gas, not a tat.
Cutting overhead was Lauren’s only choice if she expected this place to support her until she found real work. Not that reducing expenses was a viable alternative.
Jasmina was already making minimum wage when she deserved far more. Van Gogh’s salary wasn’t on par with his astonishing talent. They both deserved huge raises. Besides, Dante had warned her not to mess with Jasmina or Van Gogh’s pay, offering his own salary instead.
Lauren couldn’t take a penny from him. She wouldn’t.
Hell, he wasn’t making much more than Van Gogh, even though he handled the endless paperwork the State and Feds insisted upon. Matters that went beyond the regulatory nightmare a human resources professional had to deal with. She’d read up on what he did and was astounded at how complicated it was. He also negotiated with the building’s owner and vendors, his laid-back manner masking his iron will and tenacity.
From what she could tell during these few short weeks, the man always got what he wanted. Even getting her to give up her plan not to be near him again.
Several times, he had strong-armed her into having lunch with him and the crew, using his charm to get her to cave.
She kept begging off, not wanting him to waste his money on her.
Three days ago, he’d grabbed her hand and escorted her to the back room. “I’m not taking no for an answer. You didn’t bring your lunch. I know. I checked. There’s plenty to eat. Too much, in fact. Right now, I’m way past hungry to argue or wait.”
He stroked her thumb.
Every cell in her body came alive, making her light-headed and breathless. Even if she could have managed speech, saying no was the furthest thing from her mind.
Like a docile puppy, she sat next to him.
He scooped more beans and rice onto her plate than he had on his.
Funny thing, for the first time in her life, Lauren wasn’t hungry. “You have to quit doing this.”
He stopped chewing. “You mean eating?”
Feeding her was more like it. Driving her batty with desire that had nowhere to go was another problem. “Giving me your stuff.”
“I don’t mind.”
He didn’t. What she didn’t know was why. Because she was broke? Because she was Frank’s kid? Because she veered closer to a meltdown each day and, being a decent guy, he didn’t want to witness her implosion so he plied her with rich food? Reluctant to ask and learn the horrible truth behind his charity, she’d kept her mouth shut.
To avoid running into him, she camped out in her office and fantasized, wishing he’d make demands on her physically, his carnal hunger insistent and unrelenting.
No matter how crazy or foolish her desires, she had the scenario worked out in her mind. He wouldn’t approach her during business hours but after the others had gone home for the night. He’d catch her in the back room where she’d just snatched another of Jasmina’s Dove Bars and gobbled it because she was so hungry, too poor to buy groceries.
Not that she’d confess such a thing to him. She had her pride.
And her wanton craving.
The scene played in her mind…
Holding the ice cream stick behind her, Lauren lifted her chin to Dante and pretended she hadn’t taken someone else’s stuff.
His scowl said he knew better. He focused on her mouth and the chocolate smears she figured were in the corners. Proof she’d been bad. With heat and danger in his eyes, he growled and pointed. “Come here.”
She didn’t. Not because she was particularly defiant. Her legs had turned to jelly, and it was an effort to remain standing. His chest was broader than she recalled, his biceps bulging, tats dancing, the thick ridge behind his fly the best present a woman could get. God, how she wanted to taste his mouth and everything else on him, then get really down and dirty, indulging in wicked acts she’d never shared with another man.
Dante seemed to know how depraved she was. He clasped her wrist. After bringing her to the table, he pushed magazines, plates, and empty soda cans off it. The items clattered and banged against the floor. Before the din had died down, he pressed his mouth to her ear. “Bend over.”
His demand was husky, his breath sinfully hot and sweetly scented.
The wooden stick fell and hit the tile with a brief tapping sound. She sank to the table, grateful for its support.
Dante ran his large hands over her ass, cupped her cheeks, and poured his incredible heat into her.
Someone moaned. Could have been her.
He made sounds that were aroused and pissed. “What did I tell you about losing the suit?”
What she wore today was the only clothes she had. She’d sold everything else to meet her car, condo, and student loan payments. “I don’t have anything else to wear.”
“You should have thought of that before now. When I tell you to do something, you’ll obey.”
He yanked down her skirt.
Her mouth fell open, and her breath caught.
The polyester fabric rustled and pooled around her ankles.
Dante stroked her garter-belt tat that Van Gogh had done for free because she hadn’t fired him. Lauren got inked because she didn’t have enough money to wash her underwear anymore, which meant she no longer wore stockings or panties. Naked from the waist down, she was fully accessible to Dante. Deliciously vulnerable to whatever the hell he wanted to do with her.
She prayed he wanted to do it all.
Delight rippled from her chest to her belly and settled between her legs, warming her. A cool breeze from the air conditioner licked her soft folds, already slick with desire.
Dante stroked the furrow between her cheeks. “Tell me you’ve been bad.”
She shivered. “I have. God, I really have.”
He circled her anus.
Pleasure burst through her, snatching her breath and weakening her further. To have his cock in her tightest channel made her burn with expectation.
She prayed he’d mount her.
He didn’t.
Maybe he was waiting for her to confess how she’d misbehaved. At this point, she’d do whatever it took. “I didn’t mean to take the ice cream. I was hungry.”
“You’ll eat before this night’s over.” His deep voice rumbled. He licked her earlobe. “We both will.”
He wasn’t talking about food.
She knew where this was heading. He’d stretch his large body over hers, his head bent to her cleft. His thick cock and pendulous balls would dangle above her mouth. She’d worship his weighty sac with her tongue. His musky, masculine scent would fill her. He’d lick her cleft and tongue her clit.
The room spun.
He brought his palm down hard on her ass, disciplining her.
She cried out.
The first sting faded into breathtaking warmth.
He followed it with another smack and another.
Rough voices poured down the hall.
Several bikers tramped in. Dante’s former clients. They lifted their chins in greeting.
He paddled her repeatedly.
A few men sank into chairs. Others leaned against Van Gogh’s murals.
Dante pulled her to a standing position and tore off the rest of her clothes, leaving her nude, defenseless, and panting.
The bikers whistled.
Dante lifted her to the table.
She gasped.
He positioned her spread-eagle, her breasts and pussy shamelessly exposed.
The seated bikers leaned up for a better view. Those who’d been against the walls strode closer. One handed Dante a melting Dove Bar. He dripped its chocolate and vanilla onto Lauren’s nipples, navel, and the delicate curls between her legs. She shivered at the cool liquid and lost her breath at Dante’s hot, wet mouth. He licked her nipples, making them ache, and dipped his tongue into her navel to lap it clean.
Once it was, he scooted down to her slit. His hot breath skimmed her folds drenched from indecent lust and her need to have his cock tunneled deep within her.
Lauren lifted her ass and delivered herself to him.
A biker clomped across the room and pumped his fist. “Do her now.”
Another joined him. “Good and hard.”
The others whooped.
Lauren trembled at Dante’s mouth on her clit, his tongue rasping it. He kept her thighs apart, her sex open to him. Ruthlessly, he teased her nub.
Too many feelings tore through her. Need. Hunger. Passion. Delight.
She lost control and shattered, her release hitting her with cyclone force.
The men stamped their feet and whistled.
Dante lifted her legs, spread her widely, and rested her feet and ass on the table edge.
He gestured three men over. “Hold her. Make sure she can’t move.”
One clasped her right ankle in his meaty hand. His chest sported a tat that showed her naked and bound. The guy on the other side gripped her left ankle. His tat displayed Dante mounting her. The biker behind Lauren held her wrists. She didn’t bother to look at him.
Dante commanded her full attention. He’d shoved his jeans and underwear to his thighs. His cock sprang out, rigid, thick, and proud. Its alluring scent filled the room. Playfully, he ran his crown over her plump folds, bathing it in her moisture.
Fevered and wanting, she had to have him now. “Fuck me.”
He did. Oh damn, he did.
But only in her stupid fantasy where their carnal play would always remain.
Lauren rubbed her temples. Too bad Dante couldn’t massage her bruised emotions and heart.
Calling herself a fool, she forced herself to get back to work. For the last several hours, she’d rewritten her resume more times than she cared to count to make it perfect for today’s applications. Her email inbox was filled with “don’t call us, we’ll never call you” responses for other jobs she hadn’t snagged. Many weren’t even in her field. She was now courting entry-level gigs offering minimum pay and still couldn’t get anything.
She had to. No way could she take part of Dante’s salary, no matter what he’d said.
He was either the kindest man she had ever known or the craziest. Maybe he came from wealth. He surely didn’t covet it. Not only was he intelligent and educated, but highly so. When he spoke to vendors and city officials, his words and phrasing were far different from how he conversed with the guys who came here. Most were arrested adolescents who were proudly into broads, booze, and tattoos. She couldn’t imagine what had led Dante to Wicked Brand. Not that he seemed to mind working here.
His deep voice drifted down the hall. Women’s throaty laughter followed.
Lauren’s headache got worse. Although each inking station was in a room with a door, Van Gogh and Dante never closed theirs. She’d discovered that earlier in the week and asked Jasmina why they didn’t opt for more privacy.
“They can’t.” Jasmina lifted her eyebrows. “If women are shut in there with them, especially Dante, they could accuse him of all kinds of stuff, despite the security camera. He does have to touch them in intimate places, you know. They could sue and get the business.”
More problems Lauren didn’t need.
His clients cooed and laughed.
Although the cameras fed into a monitor in here, Lauren refused to spy on him or them. She hadn’t done so when he’d been alone in there and wouldn’t now.
She folded her arms on her desk and rested her head on them.
“Hey.” Jasmina rapped on the jamb. “You okay?” She rushed into the office and rubbed Lauren’s shoulder. “Working too hard?”
She wasn’t working period, at least at a real job. That was the problem. Too bad Jasmina’s boyfriend hadn’t already gotten his franchise. Lauren would have hit him up for a position. She straightened and patted Jasmina’s hand. “I’m good.”
“No way. You sound tired. Take a break. Have one of my Dove Bars.”
Lauren’s X-rated fantasy with that treat and Dante returned with a vengeance. She slumped in her chair.
Dante laughed deeper this time. The sound a man makes when he’s seriously turned on. His clients offered husky chuckles in return.
Lauren clenched her teeth.
Jasmina massaged her shoulders. “The noise bothering you?”
“Nope.”
“Why don’t you just ask him out?”
Lauren’s stomach twisted. “Huh? Who?”
Jasmina wagged her finger. She closed the office door and spoke softly. “You like Dante. Why don’t you ask him out?”
Because he’d say no. Because he wouldn’t laugh even though he should. He was too decent to make fun of her. He’d act honored by her invitation and would gently turn her down. Exactly like the countless companies that hadn’t hired her. “I don’t think I can take much more rejection at this point.”
Jasmina sank down and sat on her heels. “Job search going bad?”
She shouldn’t have told Jasmina her personal problems. One afternoon they’d been in the back room alone, and Lauren couldn’t shut up about these last miserable months. Despite her youth, Jasmina had listened with a shrink or bartender’s endurance.
Lauren rolled her shoulders but couldn’t relax. “I’ve started to seriously stretch the truth on my resume. So yeah, it’s not going well.”
“It’ll get better.” She patted Lauren’s knee. “How do you know Dante would say no? He likes you.”
Lauren wasn’t certain whether to laugh or cry. “He likes everyone.”
“Well, yeah, that’s true.”
She folded her arms on the desk and lowered her head.
“Oh hey, wait. That’s not what I meant. You’re a beautiful woman. He’d be lucky to go out with you.”
“In some alternate universe maybe.”
Jasmina stood. “Want me to ask him for you?”
“God no.” She grabbed Jasmina’s arm before she could leave or say anything to him. “We didn’t have this conversation, all right? Dante’s not into me. I’m not into him. Understand?”
Jasmina smiled. “You’ve got it bad.”
Lauren gripped harder. If she bruised her, too freaking bad. “Please don’t say anything to him.”
“No way.” She crossed her heart and pried Lauren’s fingers off her arm. “It’s our secret.” Jasmina stopped at the door and turned back. “That doesn’t mean I agree. If you don’t make a play for Dante, you might lose out. Those other women will be in there with him, enjoying themselves, while you’re in here listening and maybe watching them on the security camera. Something to think about.”
On that cheery note, she took off and left the door open.
Dante’s clients giggled worse than preteens.
His rumbling voice glided down the hall.
Lauren hurried from the office on a Dove Bar mission. Only chocolate could help now.
She slowed and stopped at Dante’s station.
Two young women relaxed inside.
One lounged on a regular chair and held up photos of boob tats, comparing them.
Lauren had seen several in Van Gogh’s repertoire. She should have asked to see Dante’s binder.
The young woman’s friend was partially nude from the waist down, clad only in a lacy red thong, and bent over the convertible chair. The furniture was flat as a bed, her ass offered to Dante for inking.
Good sense urged Lauren to run. But she couldn’t move or breathe.
Dante messed with his tattoo equipment.
His client wiggled her butt. “Hope you have a steady hand today, sweetie.”
“I always do. You won’t feel much.”
“That’s no fun.”
Dante smiled easily. “You’d be surprised. Now keep still. Wouldn’t want to mess up your design.”
“You won’t. I hear you’re the best.”
The young woman had no idea…or maybe she would if she was Dante’s type, and he asked her on a date, then showed her his real talents with a woman, wooing and wowing her between the sheets.
Lauren stepped back.
Dante glanced up and caught her watching him in the mirror.
He gave her a surprisingly warm look and winked as he might to a woman he considered special.
Her legs felt weird, like they might not be able to support her weight for long. She ached to melt in his arms, which was pure lunacy. He was far too popular with women to notice her on a longtime basis. Say for more than a few seconds. He probably banged a new babe each night. With his killer looks, he’d have plenty of options.
More importantly, he was smart and a genuinely nice guy, offering his salary to save Jasmina and Van Gogh from losing theirs. Lauren figured Dante had also wanted to help because of Frank. She suspected they’d been close, but she couldn’t understand why. Frank had probably come off way different here than he had in her life. Sort of like Ted Bundy, the serial killer, becoming friends with noted crime writer Ann Rule when they’d worked phones at a suicide crisis center. Work relationships never delved deeply into someone’s rotten soul. In any event, Dante’s generosity certainly had nothing to do with any sexual or romantic feelings he had for her, which were nonexistent.
She fled to her office, closed the door, and sagged against it.
The air conditioning shut off. Sounds seeped in, some so low she strained to identify them.
She hung her head, unable to endure much more desire for him. She had to do something other than hide in here or break down and watch the security feed, which would only upset her further.
…
“Be right back.” Dante turned off his ink gun and rushed into the hall.
Empty. Lauren’s door closed.
If he lived to a hundred, he’d never forget her heightened color. It had nothing to do with the partially nude woman in his station. He’d caused Lauren’s reaction. He’d also put fire in her eyes.
They needed to talk, touch, kiss, and a whole lot more rather than dance around each other as they had been. He’d sported a hard-on for days and suffered fatigue from tension and waiting for something to happen between them. He might have made his move before now, suggesting dinner to get things started, but she hadn’t given him a chance. She begged off from too much help, insisting she was bothering him. Or she refused to stay still long enough for them to have a decent conversation.
Ready for anything and everything, he strode to her office.
His customer shouted, “Hey, Dante, what gives? Why’d you leave?”
He ground to a stop.
The other young woman leaned out the door. “Something wrong?”
Him behaving like an idiot came to mind. “Nope. I thought I heard someone up front I needed to talk to.” He returned to his station. “False alarm.”
He’d have to catch up with Lauren later.
Hours passed like sludge on a sub-zero day. Concentrating on work was a bitch. Every noise set Dante on edge.
None came from Lauren.
Exhausted, he finished up with a biker. “Follow the instructions I gave you religiously. Book your follow-up visit with Jasmina.”
The guy grinned, showing several gold-rimmed teeth. “Seeing her is the best part of this. Later.”
He stalked to the front counter.
Dante cleaned his station and trudged into the hall.
Lauren stopped.
A spirited tune played. Raucous laughter and conversation poured from the front.
Dante tried to smile but couldn’t get his face to work. His skin burned. Cock blossomed. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
Whistles and applause broke out in front.
Thankfully, it wasn’t for his and Lauren’s awkward behavior around each other.
She rubbed her neck. “I was going to get a Dove Bar. Jasmina said it’s okay to take one. I should go.”
He wanted her to stay. “Sure.”
She edged to the right to go around him.
He’d gone in the same direction.
They danced back and forth, still in each other’s way.
Dante laughed, breaking the tension. “Stop, please.” He rested his hands lightly on her shoulders. “You go to your right, and I’ll go to mine. Sound like a plan?”
“Uh-huh.” She leaned closer.
Her fragrance and heat surrounded him, making him hunger for more. “A Dove Bar sounds good. Think Jasmina would mind if I had one, too?”
Lauren laughed softly. “We don’t have to tell her.”
“No, we don’t.”
“Dante, hey!”
Hallie, a busty redhead and regular customer, wiggled her fingers. “You ready for me?”
“He’d better be.” Jasmina pointed at him. “Back to work.”
Lauren pivoted, the Dove Bar forgotten, and ducked into her office.
…
Running into Dante was more than Lauren could manage. Talking to him, being close, and experiencing his touch unglued her.
No telling what eating a Dove Bar with him would have done.
Wasn’t going to happen. He had the gorgeous redhead to deal with.
The woman laughed heartily.
He said something low in return. Possibly seductive.
Silence followed, except for a sad Spanish ranchera flowing from the sound system.
His client squealed.
He couldn’t be tickling her. She sure as hell had better not tickle him.
They fell silent.
That was the absolute worst. Lauren hoped they weren’t kissing. What happened to threats from lawsuits? And what about the security camera?
She kept her back to the monitor.
He had three more female clients tonight before the parlor closed. This day would never end.
She wasn’t certain she’d survive it.
…
Twice more that evening Dante ran into Lauren unexpectedly. Both times, she’d barely met his gaze, her manner aroused yet uncomfortable. The way a woman might behave if she wanted to say something but didn’t know how to begin.
He would have helped her along, sensing this was more personal than business, but she kept giving him a panicked glance and rushing off, showing him her back.
What a back it was, along with everything else about her.
She’d finally taken his advice and relaxed, somewhat. Snug jeans hugged her succulent figure. She’d paired the denim with an embellished blue tee. The sparkles across its neckline and her boobs glittered nearly as bright as her eyes. The heat in them had been more than amazing; it smoldered.
She was losing control.
Dante couldn’t have been happier. With his last customer gone, he stopped in the hall and glanced behind him.
Jasmina approached, smartphone to her ear, listening to whatever the person on the other end said.
He’d hoped to see Lauren.
Jasmina reached his side and spoke into her phone. “Baby, hold on. Gotta talk to Dante.” She pressed the device to her chest. “I’m taking off. See you tomorrow.”
“Wait.”
Van Gogh shouldered past them and sighed loudly. “Night.”
“Yeah.” Dante waved the kid on his way. “Have a good one.”
Van Gogh muttered something else and left.
Dante exchanged a glance with Jasmina. “He have a bad shift? More than usual, I mean.”
“Kinda sorta.” She turned her hand back and forth. “One of the bikers tipped him ten bucks. He was hoping for twenty.”
Dante kept his voice low. “You see Lauren around?”
Jasmina regarded him closely and brought her phone to her ear. “Hey, you still there?” She listened and smiled. “I’m taking off in a few secs, okay? Hang tight. I’ll be there.” She ended the call and eyed Dante with anticipation. “Why do you want to know?”
He hadn’t expected her question or seeming interest. “Just wondering where she might be.”
“Uh-huh.”
He hadn’t a clue what that was supposed to mean. Knowing women talked, he went for broke. “Do you have any idea what’s going on with her?”
“In what way?”
She would ask for particulars. “Her mood. If she’s happy or sad or anything.”
“I swear I don’t know.” Jasmina crossed her heart, winked, and grinned as someone might who knew every-fucking-thing. “Lauren’s in her office. Have a very nice night.”
Dante made a face.
Jasmina trotted past him to the front entrance and out into the night.
Lauren’s office door was closed.
Dante locked down the parlor but left on the music. A romantic instrumental with Spanish guitars. Edgy from anticipation and desire, he strode to her office and grabbed the knob but didn’t turn it. If she was in her corporate mood, she might not appreciate his intrusion.
Being a good boy, for the moment, he knocked.
She didn’t respond.
He pounded harder.
Nothing.
He hoped she wasn’t asleep in there because she’d lost her home, wherever it was, and had camped out here. He backed away and then advanced, worry nagging him. If she got pissed at him for barging in because he was concerned about her, too fucking bad. He was a big boy and could take her annoyance.
He opened the door.
The room was empty. Even her perfume had faded.
He couldn’t believe she’d left before the others had.
His anticipation fizzled. His rod grew harder, wanting its due. A warm, snug home within her. Not this evening, though.
Maybe not anytime in the future, either.
What in the hell was the matter with Lauren, taking off without saying good night? It was the team’s fucking routine. Even Van Gogh managed a grunt or two, no matter his crappy mood or day. She’d been here long enough to know protocol.
Frowning, Dante closed the door, turned, and flinched.
Lauren blinked.
“Christ, you surprised me.” He tried to slow his galloping heart. “I thought you were in the office.”
She glanced at it. “Uh-uh.”
Tell him something he didn’t know.
Her attention drifted to the front door. “You locked up?”
“Yeah.”
She lifted her face to the ceiling. Romantic strains from guitars flowed from the speakers. Lauren swayed to the sounds and stopped. Dismay flooded her face.
Because she’d enjoyed something for a change?
She pointed upward. “The music’s still on.”
The sparkles on her tee reflected the overhead light and drizzled faint blue color onto her neck. The bluish tint matched the delicate veins on her throat, causing her skin to seem even paler, more fragile. It wouldn’t take much for a kiss to leave a stain there and for a man to mark her with his passion.
Dante inhaled deeply. Lauren’s scent swirled around him, the fragrance pronounced in the narrow hall. His pulse throbbed.
For once, she held his gaze. Longing, and something else, played across her sweet features.
His shaft stiffened, and his balls hurt from frustrated need.
She didn’t say anything.
Dante wasn’t certain he should. She might shut down and take off as she had earlier. Unfortunately, that was a chance he had to take. “What?”
Lauren sucked her lower lip.
Delectable didn’t begin to describe her. Her hesitation said she was going to ask him out. That had to be what Jasmina alluded to when she’d acted so weird about him having a very nice night. He smiled inwardly.
Lauren cleared her throat. “I…”
He leaned in and waited for more.
She didn’t give it.
Poor baby was experiencing what guys did when they had to approach a girl and risk rejection. No damn way would she get that from him. He smiled softly to put her at ease. “You what?”
She mumbled, then waved her hands. “I don’t know how to say this.”
Something shifted within him, her uncertainty touching him deeply. He had an overwhelming urge to protect her, to hold her close and tell her everything would be all right. Hell, he was onboard with whatever she wanted. Not that his sentimental feelings made him less mischievous. “Want me to help?”
She gave him an odd look.
He hadn’t expected that. As a rule, he was damn good at reading women. Not tonight. He coaxed, “Just tell me what you want to say. I’ll listen.”
She looked doubtful.
He gave her his best smile.
Color stained her cheeks and throat.
“Come on… Say what you have to. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” Lauren blew out a breath. “I don’t want you dating our customers.”
Dante’s grin felt stupid. He killed it. “Excuse me?”
She backed up, then stepped forward, on the offense again. “I hate to have to say this, but you’re getting too friendly with the clients. The female ones. There’s too much horsing around. All that laughing and those giggles.” She made a pained sound. “None of them are dressed, or at least fully dressed as they should be. You have to understand. This isn’t a brothel. It’s a legitimate business.”
Her delicate nostrils flared from her harsh breathing. Her hair looked blonder against her reddened cheeks. She parted her lips.
“Go on.”
His mild tone lingered between them.
Lauren hesitated. Then she squared her shoulders.
He doubted she realized how that thrust out her chest. If her nipples got any harder, they’d poke through her stretchy top and might possibly kill him with desire.
“I don’t want a lawsuit.” She threw up her hands. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but your female clients have to stay dressed.”
“While I ink them through their clothes?”
“Of course not.” She made a face. “You uncover the part, and only the part, that you need to ink.”
“What if that’s their entire body? Want me to use a blindfold? On me, not them.”
She grew cool. “You know what I mean. No one’s come in here yet wanting a full-body tat. If a guy does, you can ink him from the top of his head to the tips of his toes with my blessing.”
“Lucky me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I own the place now, so I have to do what’s right for it.”
“And that would be?”
“What I’ve already said.” She crossed her arms and tightened them. “You can’t have naked women in your station. You can’t date them. Ever.”
“Uh-huh.” Call him crazy, but she sounded unbelievably jealous. Encouraged, Dante edged closer.
Lauren froze, then stepped back.
He followed.
Surprise passed over her face and mingled with irrepressible yearning. Her ass and shoulders hit the wall. She glanced at it and back to him.
Dante planted his hand next to her head. He leaned close enough to smell her perfume and the shampoo she’d used, a light peach scent that warmed him better than the sun ever had. “What you’re saying is that you don’t want me screwing any of the customers after hours. Am I right?”
She stared at his mouth. “It’s the new policy.”
“I see.” He inched nearer, driven to kiss her beauty mark and run his tongue over her lips. His pulse pounded with desire. He tensed from need. “Then who exactly would you like me to fuck?”
Lauren’s mouth opened and closed. She glanced to the side, her face pensive, the way a person looks when determining what to say or do.
Dante didn’t move. Hell, he didn’t even breathe.
Lauren regarded him.
He waited.
On a longing sigh, she reached out, ran her fingers through his hair, and brought his mouth down to hers.