King's Passion

“Guilty. Quentin D. Hinton at your service.” He looked her over again. “Have you ever thought about a career as a dancer?”

“What the hell is wrong with you two?”

Eamon popped up from his chair. “Q, would you mind finishing up the auditions? Ms.…” He looked down at the paperwork. “Gregory?”

She smiled. “You’re still impressing me with those reading skills.”

He frowned at her constant sarcasm. “Ms. Gregory and I will be in the office if you need anything. There are just a few more girls. I’m sure you’re more than qualified to handle it.”

Quentin saluted. “Yes, sir. It’s a hard job, but someone has to do it.” He shifted his gaze back to Ms. Gregory. “When you finish your meeting you know where to find me.”

She simply stared at the handsome playboy like she had never met or even seen anyone like him before.

“This way, Ms. Gregory.” He swept his arm in the direction of the back office.

She hesitated for just a moment, but then finally pulled her purse strap over her shoulder and then marched off toward the back.

Quentin cocked his head to check out her walk.

Eamon socked him on the arm. “Ow. What?”

“Just…handle the auditions. Geez.” He fell in line behind Ms. Gregory. But after a few strides, his head slowly started to tilt to the side as well while he twisted his face at the sight of that wonderful jiggle this woman had.

She reached the door first and turned.

Eamon fixed his face and pasted on a smile just a nanosecond before she busted him.

However, her hard green eyes narrowed like she had eyes in the back of her head.

Playing it straight, he just opened the door. “After you.”

She hesitated again.

“Don’t worry. I don’t bite,” he assured her.

“Too bad,” she volleyed without missing a beat. “I do.”

Eamon’s brows jumped up at the response as she turned and crossed the threshold. “I’ll definitely keep that in mind,” he said and then fought like hell to keep his eyes trained on the back of her head. It didn’t work. He snuck another peek.

“Let me guess,” Hayley said from his assistant’s desk. “Another new hire?”

Ms. Gregory started to settle her hands on her hips again when Eamon jumped in. “No. Ms. Gregory and I have business to discuss in my office.” He opened his door.

“Aaah. Business.” Hayley winked. “I gotcha.”

Eamon shook his head. This was not one of those times to toss sexual innuendos around. He tried to convey that by casting a hard look at Hayley, but she gave him the same clueless expression as Quentin. “What?”

Sighing and rolling his eyes, Eamon finally entered his office and closed the door. “All right, Ms. Gregory. What’s this lawsuit all about?” He walked around his desk and plopped into his chair.

“The fact that my name is still Ms. Gregory,” she seethed.

Of course that answer only confused him more. He frowned and wrinkled his forehead.

She squinted and leaned forward. “Does your forehead say boy toy?”

Eamon coughed and then tried to bring the subject back to this lawsuit. “You want to explain what you mean?”

“It does,” she persisted. “Why do you have boy toy written on your head?”

Propping one elbow on the desk, Eamon tilted his head and then slapped his hand across his forehead. “Can we stick to the subject here? The lawsuit?”

“It’s all right there. The Dollhouse also runs a sideline company called Bachelor Adventures, right?”

“Yes. And?” He dropped his hand and then leaned back in his chair. Clearly getting information out of her was going to be like squeezing water out of a rock.

“Well, Mr. King. You and your establishment hosted my fiancé’s—my ex-fiancé’s—bachelor party a week ago. And instead of him showing up the next day to marry me in front of my family and most of New York’s elite society, just imagine how all warm and fuzzy I felt when Marcus called me and told me that instead of marrying me he’d married a lovely booty-popper named Delicious.”

Eamon’s mouth stretched open while his gaze stroked her curves again. “Marcus Henderson was your fiancé?”

“Ah. I finally dusted off a few cobwebs in that small brain of yours.”

His brows jumped, but his chest finally started to rumble with laughter. “You gotta be kidding me. You’re suing me for fifty million dollars because you were left at the altar? That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it? You lure men here for some wild fantasy night, pump them full of liquor and God knows what else while an army of naked women swing around on poles and seduce them into having a quickie marriage at a drive-thru chapel that you guys seem to have on every street corner around here.”

Eamon heard the words but he couldn’t believe that someone would be crazy enough to say them, let alone believe them. Not to mention he still couldn’t square the circle on just how Marcus Henderson managed to land a vixen like her. He rolled the riddle around in his head while he stared at her.

She started fidgeting. “Well? Aren’t you going to say something?”

“What would you like for me to say?” He rose from his chair with a smirk on his face. “Clearly, you’re insane or at the very least bitter.”

SLAP!

Eamon blinked while the sting of her hand lingered. “Feel better?”

Her hand whipped around again, but before it could make contact, Eamon stopped it in midair and then pinned it to the wall behind her. There was something about the way her electric green eyes widened in surprise or the way she smelled like jasmine and white roses. No. Who in the hell was he kidding? It was the way her mesmerizing breasts heaved up and down against his firm chest that proved to be one temptation too many. So he did the very thing that he’d been thinking about since she walked into the club: he kissed her.

Chapter 5

Victoria didn’t know what happened. One minute she was so angry that she was breathing fire and then in the next she was a dripping pool of wax from the heat of this stranger’s kiss. Not only that, there must be something wrong with her brain because she could swear that she heard her sensors crackling and popping. Yet she didn’t want him to stop.

He tasted like those wonderful bits of chocolate with the heady filling of cognac. His tongue probed inside her mouth and she had the embarrassing response of moaning as if he’d found an oral G-spot. While he kept her one hand pinned to the wall, the free hand took full liberty to slide up the back of her thigh and then cupped the back of her right butt cheek and squeezed.

She moaned again, but he swallowed it up while kneeing her legs apart. This must be what it felt like to be ravished. The way the heroes always did in those old black-and-white films. The ones she never understood in which the women were always willing to drop everything they ever knew and all that they’d ever wanted to be just so that they could ride off into the sunset with some man. In this one weird moment she understood those women perfectly.

Just when oxygen was becoming a distant memory, King tore his mouth away from hers and started setting little fires along the column of her neck and then was well on his way toward her cleavage when the door bolted open.

“Victoria, are—oh!”