Dirty Business - Excerpt
Chloe sat in a darkened hotel bar. After work she had returned home, where she fed, walked, and spent some time playing with Baxter before leaving him in the care of her sister and his favorite doggy cousin, Spike. Her plan now was to slowly drink herself into a fine stupor before stumbling into the room she’d had the good sense to reserve. The thought of how pathetic it was to drink alone briefly crossed her mind, but it was quickly washed away with vodka. Sweet, sweet vodka.
She leaned back against the high leather backing of the booth and replayed the conversation she’d overheard, until it skipped like an overused CD in her head. She had almost convinced herself she had imagined the entire thing. That maybe the conversation had nothing to do with business. But as much as she wished it to be a fantasy, she wasn’t an idiot. She knew there was something wrong. Ryan Dorset had something up his sleeve, and she was going to find out just what it was.
After signaling to the bartender for another cosmo, she stared glumly out the window overlooking the area of Denver known as Lower Downtown, or LoDo.
She shifted her gaze to stare down into her glass as if it were a crystal ball and the answer to her dilemma would magically appear.
“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”
She opened her mouth to say, Take a hike, bozo. Or that had been her intention until she turned to see who was standing next to her table. When she did, she almost swallowed her tongue. She knew those lips. That chin. It was the man from her dream!
She shook her head. It couldn’t be. Fantasies did not come to life. Still, the thought set her heart to racing and tingles to her alert clit.
Whoever he was, he was fine. George Clooney fine, complete with prematurely gray hair and a smile that would make every woman within a twelve-mile radius cream her panties. She couldn’t see his eyes, but somehow she knew they were green. Crystalline. Like the man in her dream.
She gauged his height to be somewhere around six feet two. He was dressed conservatively, but she knew enough about fashion to know his clothes were straight off Savile Row in London. The suit jacket fit snug over his broad shoulders. It was unbuttoned, so she could see his flat stomach. Her fingers itched to touch him.
He looked down at her with a half smile that revealed a deep dimple in his cheek.
She stared at him for an embarrassing period of time before she realized he had his head cocked to the side as he waited for her answer.
She shook her head. “N-no. Please, have a seat.”
He flashed another smile, revealing two rows of white, straight teeth. Her heart started to pound, and her nipples hardened in response to that smile. Horrified, she quickly crossed her arms over her chest.
“Thank you for allowing me to join you.” His voice was husky yet smooth. It washed over her like a slow sip of really good whiskey.
“Um, you’re welcome.” What else was there to say?
“I apologize if I’m making you nervous. Am I?”
She tightened her arms across her chest. “A little bit, yeah.”
“I can leave, if you’d rather be alone. I just figured that since you seemed to be alone and so am I, there’s no reason not to start up a conversation. There’s nothing more depressing than being out of town and sitting by yourself in a hotel bar.”
She didn’t bother to correct his assumption. Besides, she loved his voice; it was warm and smooth. The sound sent shivers across her body. Maybe it was the liquor, the man himself, or a combination of both, but her pussy became moist and tingly, a sensation she hadn’t felt in a while. At least not with a man she wanted to lick like an ice-cream cone sitting across from her.
She allowed her arms to drift back down to her sides. An idea popped into her head. He might just be the thing she needed to take her mind off her troubles.
“No, please stay. I’d actually enjoy the company. You’d be doing me a favor, because if you left, I’d just go back to brooding. It’s a pastime better suited to artists and poets, of which I’m neither.”
“Hard day?” he asked.
She smiled ruefully. “You have no idea. It’s a Fiji day.”
His brow knit. “A Fiji day?”
“One of those days when I seriously contemplate chucking it all and moving to Fiji to live among the natives and dance topless in front of a bonfire.”
She almost groaned. That seemed like a little, TMI. Dancing topless? Sheesh.
He didn’t seem to mind and laughed, a low, rumbling sound from deep in his chest. Chloe’s thighs clenched. “Do they do that in Fiji?”
“What’s that?”
“Dance topless in front of bonfires.”
“I have no idea. I’ve never been. But if they don’t, I fully plan on implementing the practice.”
It had to be the alcohol that was making her tongue so loose.
“Personally, I think if you’re going to go, go big. I say you lose all the clothes and do the ‘full monty’ thing.”
“Eww. So not happening. I mean, just think about all the burning flesh. Weenie roasts would be ruined for me forever.”
Oh shit, she thought when he simply stared blankly at her. Damn all this alcohol. It had the odd effect of making her put her foot in her mouth. It was definitely time for bed.
