If the guys at the club knew I’d taken a woman to dinner and left after a goodnight kiss, I’d never hear the end of it. I’d just have to make sure they never found out. Even though I’d met Viv at the club, I felt like a different man when I was with her than I did when I was at work.
She didn’t know about my past and she wasn’t trying to get anything from me. Everyone at the club wanted a piece of me, even though most of them knew better than to fuck with me. If they didn’t know, they learned.
Most people had wariness in their eyes when they looked at me. Only Jeff, Rosie and Len didn’t. Even Rosie and Len regarded me with a healthy amount of respect.
But Viv’s eyes were open when they met mine. Bright blue and wide open like an endless ocean. And I wanted more. Needed it, actually. I’d endure as many fittings with the tailor and evenings in fancy restaurants as she’d allow me.
I wanted more of that look from her. More of her soft inhale as she ran her palm up my chest. More of her wide smile that made my heart jump. More of the body I’d lusted after as I followed her up the stairs to her brownstone and kissed her.
After I lifted weights and took a shower, I took off so Joe could clean my place without me underfoot. I dragged my ass back to the tailor and ordered more clothes and another pair of shoes. Then I stopped by the club and got the bag with the American Girl stuff in it and took it to the fancy women’s boutique in the same block as the club.
“Kane.” The owner of the boutique, Vicki, gave me a kiss on each cheek as soon as I walked in. Then she reached around and squeezed my ass. “How are you, darling?”
“Uh . . . good.”
I avoided eye contact. Vicki was a cougar and she’d pounce if I gave her a chance to. She was in her late fifties and had been trying to get me in bed since the first time we met.
“Another . . . package for me?” She licked her lips as she said the word package and I thought about walking back out the door.
But I couldn’t handle this myself. I put the bag between us to fend off her advance.
“Yeah. Just like last time. Wrap it all . . . pink or whatever. And ship it to the same address.”
“Sure thing. Will you come in for some coffee?”
“Can’t, I’ve got an appointment. Just invoice me at the club.”
A grin spread across her face. “No charge, sweetie. You can just owe me one.”
I shook my head. “Bill me.”
“Fine.” She tucked her platinum blond hair behind her ear and looked me over from head to toe. “Come see me anytime, Kane.”
“Thanks, Vicki.”
I left the boutique and caught a cab back home, the lemony smell of Joe’s work greeting me as soon as I opened the steel door that led from an alley into my small home. After another hour of sleep, I showered, dressed and headed into work.
A buzz of energy circulated through the staff as they gathered for our pre-open meeting. There were no down nights here, even during the week. In New York City, every night was cause for a party to someone.
My gaze skimmed across staff uniforms, the freshly mopped sealed stone floor and the polished dark wood of the round bar in the center of the club’s main level.
“Looks good, guys,” I said. “We’ve got a full house upstairs tonight, so I need you sharp and fast.”
“Did you fire Lizette?” a female voice in the back of the group called.
“Since when do I discuss something like that at a floor meeting?” I barked at the hidden speaker.
The low murmur of chatter stopped cold and a couple people turned her way with disdainful expressions.
“Anyone who thinks they’re being left out of shit that’s their business at this club knows where my office is,” I said. “Now get moving.”
Everyone scattered to finish last-minute work before open. Cash drawers would be opened and salt and pepper shakers topped off. In about an hour our early after-work crowd would start flowing in.