Getting Dirty. Rachael Stewart
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laughs. ‘You don’t need to care—not for sex. You ought to try it some time…a bit of no-strings fun. Celibacy doesn’t suit you.’
‘Really?’ My brow lifts. Never mind him punching me, I’m going to swing for him across the bar, to hell with the doormen flanking the place.
He laughs harder as he pours clear liquid into both shot glasses and slides one across to me. ‘Your mistake was letting one get under your skin.’
‘One?’
‘You know who I mean—Jess.’
I throw back the shot and wince. The harsh hit douses the burn of her—my ex, the woman who left the second my family lost it all. ‘Yeah, well, I’d take a woman out of my local over one from here any day.’
‘That’s not what your face was telling me a few seconds ago.’
I glower at him—but, hell, he’s right.
I drag my mind back to the job, to what I should be focusing on.
Coco is clearly at home here, her open affection with the other girl and the show they’re putting on for the guy across from them makes that obvious. Nothing in my research suggested she swung that way, but Philip Lauren—my client, her half-brother—had suspected it.
‘I’m not sure I’m her type.’
Jackson grinned. ‘Everyone’s her type if they can deliver in the bedroom.’
Heat unfurls deep within my gut. I can’t pinpoint the cause. Desire, envy, anger… She’s just like my ex, I try to tell myself. Only, Jess’s vice was money. Coco’s is sex. Just as her brother had said.
‘How often does she come in here?’
‘Depends. You asking for you, or for work?’
‘Does it matter?’
It really didn’t. It wasn’t like I’d put his livelihood at stake. It was the reason her brother was giving me shit. He expected me to have uncovered something by now, and the one thing I’d uncovered was the one thing I couldn’t divulge.
‘I’ve promised I’m taking your secrets to the grave regardless.’
‘Glad to hear it.’
He’s talking to me but his eyes are on her, just as mine were. His expression is thoughtful, almost concerned. And I’m listening, my ears attuned to whatever has him looking so intent.
‘It used to be once a fortnight, occasionally once a week, but lately it’s been more.’
‘More?’
‘Yeah.’ He looks back to me. ‘She’s probably been here twice this past week alone.’
‘And that bothers you?’
‘Not so much bothers me, but you know… This place serves a purpose, and whatever that is for her seems to me she’s needing it more and more.’
‘It’s sex, Jackson. Perhaps she’s just on heat.’
I’m purposefully harsh, flippant, but I don’t want his concern. It doesn’t pay for me to care, to soften towards her, but I can feel it happening. As each day goes by, each new discovery only adds to the appealing enigma that is Coco Lauren.
‘It’s more than that for people like her.’
Jackson’s like a dog with a bone. He’s not letting this go. Maybe she’s ensnared him too. Not that I’m ensnared—unable to douse the attraction more like.
‘They come here to get away from it all, and if she’s upping her visits, something’s bothering her.’
‘You sound like you care.’
‘She’s nice, that’s all.’ He gives a shrug and his eyes drift back in her direction. I let mine do the same, watching as she walks in the direction of the ladies’ room, her hips swaying provocatively. I feel the telltale ripple of heat through my groin and clench my jaw.
‘You could be good for her, you know.’
Jackson’s tone has a sincere ring to it that makes my blood run cold, as effective as a cold shower ever would be. Never would I go back to a woman like that. They have a knack for taking you to your knees and I’ve no interest in risking that again.
‘If you haven’t forgotten how to do it, that is?’
‘Shut it, Jackson, or regardless of your bouncers I’ll take you down right now.’
I shake my head and neck the minuscule drink. He’s hit a nerve and he knows it. Hell, maybe that’s why Lady Legs is having such an undesirable effect on my libido.
Who are you kidding? The reason you haven’t had sex in an age is because you can’t find anyone who does it for you. That is, you couldn’t until you started this job, until her…
I look to the closed lavatory door and beat back the thought.
You’re here on business, not for sex. And if you were looking for sex it wouldn’t be with one of these hoity-toity bitches who remind you so much of Jess.
I’m wired and it’s driving me crazy.
Usually I can lose myself in this place. Forget the trappings of my life on the outside and have fun. It takes the edge off—just enough to go back to it and do it all again. Smile, perform, play the part to perfection.
But not now. Not with Granny so sick.
She’s the closest thing to a mother I’ve ever known, and since losing my father two years ago she’s been my world.
Nothing can bury the pain. I aim for distraction, pure and simple. But not even distraction is enough tonight.
Caitlin murmurs something in my ear, her dainty tongue tracing its delicate ridge, and I watch as the eyes of the up-and-coming footballer opposite—what was his name? Ryan? Reece? Ricky? I don’t know, he’s new—turn to saucers. He’s out of luck, though. I’m not in the mood, and no amount of Cait’s expert attentions are going to do it for me. Not tonight.
I push out of my seat to rise. I take pity on him and give him a view as I lean in to make my excuses to her and kiss her full on the mouth. She tastes of strawberry, the remnants of the daiquiri she’s been sipping, and I linger a second longer, urging my body to obey, to want, to overtake this pain with the numbing heat of desire. But…nothing.
With a smothered sigh, I head to the bathroom, triggering a text to my driver to collect me in ten. I’ll hit the hard stuff when I get home, knock myself out in my own private domain. I’m not even fearing the hangover that’s bound to ensue. Anything to beat off the impending pain of loss that’s hanging over me.
A quick pit stop, a sweep of red across the lips and I re-enter the room. Caitlin’s chatting to Jackson at the bar and the footballer’s long gone. The fact that I’m not struck with the slightest hint of disappointment tells me I’ve done the right thing.
The sigh comes full force now and I move off—just as a wall appears in front of me and I smack right into it. A wall of hard, lean muscle that smells oceanic and male, all fresh and inviting, not like the expensive cloying cologne most guys here favour. No this is more natural, more… Just more…
My eyes trail upwards from where our bodies are still pressed up against one another. A black shirt, open at the collar, an honest hint of hair… How unusual. A square-set jaw, ample stubble… Nice. A full mouth, firm yet sensual, very nice. A strong nose, not too big, not too small. And eyes—
Oh, my God.
I start to lower my lashes, but I’ve never stood down