Sheerly Irresistible. Kristin Gabriel
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Mitch Malone. I think you’re one of those old-fashioned romantics, the type I never see in this place anymore. You actually want more from a woman than her body.”
Mitch shook his head. “Donna, you’ve got me all wrong. I’m a connoisseur of the female body. The only reason I work here is because of the view.” He motioned to the scantily clad women on the dance floor. “I get a great show every night.”
Donna folded her arms across her chest. “Then why don’t you ever take one of them home?”
“I would, but my place is a mess.”
She laughed. “As if any woman in her right mind would care. You’re a romantic, Mitch, just admit it.”
“I plead the fifth.”
She shook her head. “You’re impossible.”
Time to go to work. “Hey, that’s better than desperate. Actually though, I hear this is the place to score some help in the romance department. Some of the guys I’ve talked to come here to pick up bootleg Viagra, hoping to boost their…vitality.”
Her eyes widened. “Really? Who?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t get any names.” Then he grinned. “Why, does you new husband need a boost?”
“Hardly,” she huffed, then smiled. “I have no complaints in that department.”
He nodded, then looked around the bar. He was walking a thin line, trying to gain information without arousing suspicion. “I may have to give the stuff a try sometime. See what happens.”
Her brows rose. “Couldn’t that be dangerous?”
“Exhausting, maybe. But not dangerous.”
“Still, it’s illegal. No silly drug is worth going to jail.” Then she turned and walked back to the bar.
Mitch mentally crossed Donna’s name off his list of suspects. She hadn’t taken the bait. He didn’t like deceiving her or the other employees of The Jungle. But if he wanted to succeed in his investigation, subterfuge was part of the job.
Still, he stuck to the real facts about his life as much as possible. He’d told people he’d grown up on the streets, raised by his grandmother after his parents abandoned him when he was nine years old. He admitted that he’d gotten into some trouble as a juvenile and received his Graduation Equivalency Diploma. What he left out, though, was the cop who had been his boxing coach, a man who had steered him into a career in law enforcement. But absolute truth was simply a luxury Mitch couldn’t afford right now.
The sound of a glass breaking broke his reverie. He looked toward the bar and saw a beer mug laying in pieces on the floor. A sudden stillness came over the room, though music still blared from the jukebox. The lights from the disco ball glittered over an empty dance floor. Most of the patrons were staring at the door. He followed their gazes and saw an eerily familiar woman standing just inside the room.
He stared at her and swallowed hard. His gaze took in everything at once. The long toffee-brown hair, the big brown eyes, and the modest curves that shouldn’t make a man stare—but they did. His eyes fell to the short, tight black skirt that revealed a pair of incredible legs. He blinked and looked again. The skirt was so sheer, he could damn well see through it! Heat kindled low and spread through his body like a brush-fire.
It was the woman from the back alley, though he couldn’t remember her name. Hell, he could barely remember his own name. But he knew what to call her as soon as she started walking toward him.
Trouble.
4
THE BLACK SKIRT CARESSED Claire’s thighs as she walked into The Jungle. She was intrigued by the odd sense of power it gave her. The way the silky fabric molded to her body. She loved the way it made her legs seem longer and her hips slimmer. But most of all, she loved the smolder of desire she saw in Mitch’s eyes. Eyes that looked even bluer than she remembered.
Unfortunately, he wore a shirt tonight. It was a black T-shirt, stretched a little taut at the shoulders, with the name of the nightclub emblazoned across it in white letters. And it was accompanied by a pair of snug black denim jeans. Mitch Malone didn’t need any magic clothes to make her smolder.
He watched her approach him, his gaze trickling down her body like warm syrup.
“Hello,” she said, holding out her hand. She’d better get used to approaching strange men if she wanted this study to be a success. “I’m Claire Dellafield.”
“Claire,” he echoed, in a way that told her he’d remember it this time. His hand swallowed hers whole and a delicious zing shot through her body. According to her initial observations, the skirt was definitely causing a chemical reaction.
So far, both Mitch and her cabdriver seemed to be affected. The cabdriver had even followed her into the nightclub.
“Hey, babe,” the man now called from the doorway in a thick Bronx accent. “Wait up.”
He was obviously making good on his pledge to follow her to the ends of the earth. But there was one place he couldn’t go.
She smiled up at Mitch. “Could you please direct me to the ladies’ room?”
He didn’t say anything, just hitched his thumb over her shoulder, pointing toward the corner of the nightclub.
“Thank you,” she murmured, circling around him and walking briskly in that direction. Claire quickened her pace as the cabdriver’s voice carried over the room. The man was certainly persistent. He’d screeched to a stop at the corner where her apartment stood, kicked out his irate passenger, then promised her a free ride.
She’d thought he meant in his taxicab.
But he’d made his intentions quite clear when he’d pulled up to The Jungle. She’d turned him down. Then he’d tried to sweeten the offer by promising to let her tie him up. The conversation had gone downhill from there. And now she was forced to hide in the bathroom. Maybe the skirt had some drawbacks after all.
Claire slipped into the empty ladies’ room, wondering how long she’d have to stay here before the cabbie finally gave up and went away.
But she underestimated him.
The cabbie barreled through the door, his narrow face lighting up when he saw her. “Are we playing hide-and-seek?”
Claire planted her hands on her hips. “I think you missed the sign on the door. It’s for women only.”
“Let’s continue the game at my place,” he offered, taking another step closer. “I’ll let you hide in my bed.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,’ she said firmly. “I don’t even know your name.”
His thin lips curved into a smile. “My girlfriends call me the Love Stallion.”
“Well, Mr. Stallion, I’m flattered by your interest, but I’m working at the moment.”
He gaze flicked over her body. “I’ll pay top dollar for a woman like you.”
She blinked. “Top dollar? You think I’m a prostitute?”
“I think you’re my greatest fantasy.” He took another step closer. “One I want to enjoy all night long.”
Claire slipped her hand inside her purse, curling her fingers around the pepper spray A.J. had given her in case of an emergency. “I’m going to count to three. If you’re not gone by the time I’m done, you’re going to regret it.”
“Why?” He grinned. “Are you going to spank me?”
“One.”
He licked his lips. “You are so hot.”
“Two.”
He