Derry watched as Sophia found a man to target, barely registered Gillian’s delivery of a new drink, scarcely noticed his own insistent stare as a cloud of want, need, desperation, and grounded truth enveloped him. Every hair on his body stood on end, every muscle began to twitch and turn, every tendon tensed as he became aligned with a singular realization:
He knew exactly what would meet his need.
And at that same moment, she looked up and caught his eye.
Her.
Chapter 3
The Platinum Club took Jess’s breath away.
Movie stars. Senators. Football players, musicians, models. She recognized one of her former professors from night school, then was flattered when the woman remembered her—and admitted she’d worked at the Plat herself, long ago.
“Enjoy yourself,” she told Jess, holding up her bourbon in a toast. Then, as she brought the drink to her lips, added, “Not too much, of course.”
“Don’t worry.” Her nerves calming, Jess thanked her and hurried back to the bar to refill her tray. No money changed hands, no tabs needed to be tracked. Every member had already paid more than enough in their dues to cover all the amenities. They came to the Platinum to relax, network, play—not pull out their wallets. Eva told Jess to be invisible but present, quiet but friendly, unhurried but very, very fast. No member should ever look around in annoyance, wondering where the server was or why their drink hadn’t arrived yet.
“You’re a natural,” Carl, the bartender, told her. Young and friendly, almost certainly gender fluid and maybe pansexual, he’d had her back all night. “Must run in the family.”
“Without tracing the tab, it’s easy.”
“You make it look easy. You haven’t served the wrong drink yet.” He handed her a tray with two pint glasses of a local ale, a whiskey smash, and a dirty martini. “That’s a first. Even Lilah screwed up a few drinks on her first night.”
Jess smiled wickedly. “She did?”
“Served a Bloody Mary to a vegan.” He shook his head in mock horror. “It was quite the scandal.”
She laughed. “You’re teasing me.”
“Never.” He put one more drink on the tray. “Get back to work. Show them how it’s done, sunshine.”
Still smiling, she lifted the tray and pivoted in her ruby slippers, which were as comfortable after two hours on her feet as they’d been the moment she’d put them on. And although she was the only woman server wearing pants, she had noticed a few appreciative glances from the men in the club. Nothing requiring a stick, but enough to make her feel beautiful, sexy, and confident.
She strode through her area, serving the drinks, noticing two good-looking guys in suits were giving her a few of those appreciative glances at that very moment.
What a perfect gig for her. It was understood she couldn’t get involved romantically without losing her position, so she could turn them down without any of the awkwardness she struggled with in her daily life. She could be beautiful and sexy without getting into unwanted trouble. She could have fun.
“So nice to see the new girl enjoying herself,” a low voice rumbled in her ear.
Electric pleasure shot through her, starting at the base of her scalp, spreading out to the tips of her toes and fingers, then back into a hot, deep pool between her legs.
Him.
Heart racing, she glanced in his direction without turning her head. “Can I get you anything, Mr. Stanton?”
He didn’t reply, each moment of his silence loaded with innuendo. Finally he said, “What do you have?”
She could have fun, she reminded herself. He was going to be family. He was a member of the club. Nothing could happen.
She turned and met his gaze. “What would you like?”
A grin spread from one ear to the other. “Such a wonderful question. Small, but loaded with potential.” His gaze dropped, hiding his eyes beneath thick, dark lashes. “Like a delicious morsel.”
What precisely was he staring at? Her mouth? Her breasts? She wondered—she couldn’t help but wonder—what he liked. “A morsel, Mr. Stanton? Perhaps I should get you something from the restaurant. There’s a wonderful sea bass and pumpkin curry tonight.”
“I had a different kind of morsel in mind.” He licked his lips. “But you knew that, Jess, didn’t you? You may not play, but you certainly know the game.”
Her face heated, which annoyed her because he’d be able to see that he’d unbalanced her. “I know that I need to get back to work.” With unsteady fingers, she lifted the whiskey smash and looked around for the person who’d ordered it, suddenly going blank on who it had been. The cable news anchor? No, she was drinking vodka shots. One of the men at the congressman’s table? No, no, they were sharing a bottle of some expensive French wine, and Carl had warned her to make time to get more in the cellar.
“I believe you’re looking for the actor,” Derry said in her ear, his low voice making her shiver.
Without thanking him, she hurried over to the man sitting by himself at a small table, reading on his phone. If he was annoyed by the delay, he didn’t show it. Relieved, she returned to the bar.
Where Derry was leaning, long legs stretched out, now waiting for her.
“Not your type, then, if you could forget him so easily.” Derry put an enormous hand over his heart. “I’m gratified beyond words.”
She reached for her water bottle behind the bar and gulped down a long, soothing drink. She’d been wrong to think she’d be able to have fun with him. Very wrong. He wrecked her concentration. He could wreck everything.
“Jess, we need you to get another bottle of that cabernet now,” Carl said, gesturing to someone behind her. “Gillian will show you how to get to the cellar. I’ll get you another double, Mr. Stanton.”
Jess met Carl’s gaze, seeing from his expression that he was implementing a rescue mission. “Right away,” Jess said.
Gillian appeared, cocked an eyebrow at Derry, and led Jess away with her long, bare arm entwined in hers. She was the type of woman Jess had expected to see at an elite club—tall, blonde, gravity-defying breasts.
“You’re not ready for that one, darling,” Gillian said, shaking her head. “If he bothers you, give me a signal. And he will bother you. It’s in his DNA. Can’t help it, poor little thing.”
Jess snorted. They’d reached the service elevator behind the bar. “Him? Little?”
Gillian laughed, not entirely with pleasure, and punched the elevator button. “Inside he is little. A spoiled little boy with too many toys.”
“You mean women.”
“Yes, I mean women,” Gillian said. “Not that he doesn’t take care of his toys. Never that. It was a pleasure to be played with.” A soft, girlish giggle escaped her.
They got onto the elevator, where Gillian showed her an unmarked button that would take them below the lobby to the wine cellar. Lilah had mentioned something about being careful down here but wouldn’t explain what she’d meant. After the car sank down the dozen or so floors and the doors opened, Jess thought she understood. It was dark, and the ancient cobblestone floor was uneven. In the stilettos the other servers were wearing, this place would be hazardous. Unsteadily she stepped into a dark hallway that looked like the entrance to a medieval dungeon in a Hollywood movie. Unfinished stone walls with black iron sconces casting uneven light.