Sex & The Single Girl

He leaned back in his chair as if utterly at ease with the notion, then laced his fingers over his reclining chest. “Melvin pissed off a lot of people with this latest stunt, Brianne. You know he took off because we were ready to nail him with racketeering charges?”

No, she hadn’t known. Didn’t want to know. She’d said goodbye to Melvin and all her mother’s other shady—but well-providing—boyfriends and ex-husbands ten years ago. Brianne was well into a new chapter of her life now.

Thoughts of Jimmy the guitar player niggled in the back of her mind. Had she somehow started her own parade of shady boyfriends?

“That doesn’t have anything to do with me or with Club Paradise.” She stood, eager to walk away from the implied intimacy of the darkened room and the proximity of their seating arrangement. She flipped on all the overhead lights, determined to chase away all traces of shadiness in her life. Starting now.

“Whatever business Mel was running out here, it’s not going on anymore. The women I’m partners with have so much collective fury at the Rat Pack that we could probably take down all of them if they were ever stupid enough to set foot in South Beach again. But they’re not. Mel is gone and he’s going to stay gone.”

Aidan blinked against the sudden deluge of high wattage filling the room. “And you think you can make it so by the sheer force of your will? Mel has connections all over town and a strong racketeering operation in place. He’s not going to walk away from that income forever.”

Why had her mother ever married such a loser?

Bad enough Pauline Wolcott-Baxter-Menendez-Simmons unabashedly married the men for money. Did she have to be so unconcerned with how they made it?

Brianne leaned against the master control board, strung tight and wishing she could appear half as at-ease as the agent lounging in her office chair. She set the remote control on the panel beside her. “He knows better than to contact me.”

“I disagree. And since I’m running this investigation, that means I’m going to hang out at the club, watch the surveillance cameras with you, and generally be your best friend for the next few weeks.”

Like hell. “I don’t think so, Aidan. One of our owners is an attorney, you know. If there’s a way to legally keep you out of here, Lainie will find it.”

He rose, unfolding his six-foot-four frame from his slouchy position in the chair.

To Brianne the subtle physical message couldn’t have been more obvious. He was no longer talking to her as an old friend. He was issuing FBI-guy orders in no uncertain terms.

“I don’t think Lainie is going to find an easy opponent in the justice system, Bri, but good luck. In the meantime, I’ll be here tomorrow night before you open.” He drifted closer, his shuffling walk landing him a scant foot from Brianne.

She had to look up at him to meet his gaze. One perk of her height was that she usually got to meet men eye-to-eye. She could have gained a couple of inches if she’d pried herself off the soundboard perch, but that would have put her much too close to Aidan.

“I’m not showing you my videotapes without a search warrant.” By God, she was going to lay down some rules here, too. If Aidan thought he could blithely walk through her door and charm her into doing whatever he wanted, he was dead wrong. She’d learned the hard way not to put her trust in this man.

“Why? So I can’t see the drunken three a.m. crowd pissing on the sidewalk on their way out of the club? Or so I can’t see the floor show for free? If Melvin’s not going to contact you, what do you care if I sit here and watch your tapes with you?”

That was the whole damn point. She didn’t care what he saw, she cared that he’d be sitting two feet away from her all night, every night. Besides, she needed to show him he couldn’t waltz back into her life and expect he could manipulate her like some infatuated teenager.

“Bring a warrant or you don’t see a damn thing.” She’d hold her ground on this one.

“Fine.” Nodding, he conceded her point. “But I’m going to be all the more demanding about what you have to show me if I go to the trouble of getting the paperwork.”

She scavenged up a few remnants of her New York attitude, the facade she’d needed to make it in the city’s competitive film industry. She leaned close enough to whisper, her chest hovering inches from his.

“Demand all you want, Aidan. I don’t think you’ll be able to obtain a warrant for what you really want to see.”

If there were any justice in the world, the fact that Aidan chose that moment to lick his lips would mean Brianne had the power to make his mouth go dry.

An idea that pleased her to no end.

“Good thing I don’t need the court’s permission for that particular show.” He picked up the remote control and pressed play, starting the footage of their meeting in Honeymoon Heaven. “Why don’t you sit down and watch the sparks fly between us on camera and then try to tell me we’re not going to end up seeing a whole lot more of each other before this investigation is through?”

He shoved the remote into her hands and headed toward the door.

And despite the staggering number of New York film producers she’d mouthed off to in her day, she couldn’t think of a single comeback to Aidan’s preposterous suggestion.

He turned at the door to shoot her a parting grin. “See you tomorrow, Bri.” He lifted one eyebrow in signature Aidan style. “But only as much as you are ready to show me, of course.”

Damnation.

As he disappeared into the hallway, Brianne wondered how she’d survive the next go-round.

Somehow she’d dropped a sexual gauntlet tonight and Aidan Maddock hadn’t wasted any time picking it up. If she was going to maintain her sanity over the next few weeks, she needed to get her mind off those mouthwatering muscles of his and back on her job.

Because Brianne had already revealed too much of herself to Aidan ten years ago, and she didn’t have any intention of making herself vulnerable to him again.

3

BRIANNE SLID FARTHER into the gurgling outdoor hot tub, allowing the bubbles to tickle her nose as she held her glass out to Giselle for more champagne.

To celebrate their first night in business, Club Paradise’s new owners had agreed to meet after closing for a soak under the stars in one of the many oversize tubs surrounding the main pool. Amid wafting steam and the thrum of the bubble jets, the four of them were sharing stories from trenches. Summer had lost one of the dancers’ outfits and the woman had trotted out topless, Giselle had gotten into an argument with a drunken patron who insisted she didn’t know how to make a proper Sex on the Beach, and Lainie had a run-in with the cigarette girl over leaving her station in the middle of the evening.

The last part came as no surprise to Brianne, of course.

Brianne raised her glass for a third toast, wishing she didn’t have to share her bad news with the happy celebrants. She smoothed a slick finger over the painted ceramic tiles on the rim of the hot tub, pausing on the image of a towering pagan god in the Atlantis-themed picture. The golden god’s knowing expression reminded her too much of a certain cocky Fed. She covered the picture with her beach towel, obliterating the pagan with Egyptian cotton, and decided she couldn’t keep her news a secret any longer.

Shoving a damp curl out of her eyes, she cleared her throat. “On a less happy note, we received a visit from the FBI tonight.”

Giselle choked on a sip of champagne while Summer nearly spurted hers across the pool.

Barely managing to swallow her beverage, Summer slammed her glass down on the ceramic tiles. “You’re kidding.”

“Unfortunately, I’m not. Remember the guy I told you about who’s been chasing down Mel forever?”

“Aidan Maddock.” Lainie sat up straighter, tense and wary. “He questioned me after Robert disappeared.”

“Me, too,” Giselle added, casting an apologetic look at Lainie. “And I’m used to huge, intimidating males with those brothers of mine, but I thought Maddock was totally scary. What did he want?”

“He pretty much told me he’s going to become a regular fixture at the club until he uncovers a lead to the Rat Pack. Mainly Mel.”

“Oh great.” Summer saluted the idea with a nearly empty glass. “We’ll attract lots of business with a Fed at the front door. Did you at least inform him our bouncers don’t wear three-piece suits?”

Lainie held out one manicured hand for attention, sort of Barbara Streisand style. “Maybe it’s not such a bad thing. I mean, pardon me for sounding like a bitter divorcée, but wouldn’t we all rejoice just a little if every one of the sleazeball Rat Packers got carted off to federal prison?”

Summer and Giselle, both of who had been dating former part owners of the business, looked ready to agree.

“But at what cost to the resort?” Brianne retorted, staring up at the stars as if there might be some answer contained in the limitless indigo sky.

And, a little voice inside her asked, at what cost to herself?

“We didn’t even know he was here tonight,” Lainie replied, plucking up her glass again as if the matter was settled. “As long as he sticks to the shadows, he’s not going to be chasing away business. Sure, we’re inconvenienced now, but in the long run, if this Agent Maddock catches the cheating bastards who ran Club Paradise into the ground, so much the better.”