“No, but please don’t worry.” It was hard not to smile at her. “I’m Mia O’Halloran. I’m here on behalf of MM Marketing to meet with Mr. Rykman?”
“Oooh, yes! He told me he was expecting a Ms. O’Halloran around nine.” She clapped her hands together, the sound muffled by the towel she was holding, and kicked the door of a small fridge shut. “Give me two seconds and I’ll fetch him for you.”
“Thank you.” I smiled again and perched on one of the seats.
The club looked vastly different during the daylight hours. There were no windows in the building, so the warm, yellow light that flooded the space was artificial, but somehow, it looked just like natural light. Sticky rings still sat on tables, and odd bits of trash still littered the floor, mostly beneath the tables. I guessed whoever was vacuuming would be in there next.
“He said, if you take a seat in the end booth, he’ll be right down. He made sure Sally—that’s the head cleaner—did that one already. The tables are biggest there. Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Tea?”
“A coffee would be great, thank you. Just regular, milk but no sugar.”
“No problem. I’m Vicky.”
“Mia. Obviously.” I laughed as I shook her hand over the bar. “Thank you.” I got up and headed for the booth she’d indicated. It was several down from the one we’d been in three weeks ago, and she was right. Also the only clean one.
I moved the ashtray to the edge of the table so I had more room and then tucked my purse on the seat next to me. Nerves danced in the pit of my stomach once again, but I managed to fight them long enough to open my file, remove the necessary notebook and pen, and thank Vicky for my coffee.
It smelled so good, and I sighed after taking the first red-hot sip. Yes—I was the freak who could drink coffee the second it was made. A trait I’d gotten from my father, and one I liked. I didn’t have to wait as long as everyone else to start the caffeine hit.
A deep, familiar voice rumbled through the air. “Ms. O’Halloran?”
My head snapped up and my gaze landed on the man the voice belonged to.
Dark hair.
Sharp jaw with a five-o’clock shadow.
Plump lips.
Bright. Blue. Eyes.
“Oh shit,” I whispered then clapped my hand over my mouth. Mia! You can’t swear in front of clients, even if you’ve fucked them! I forced myself to get my shit together and stood, holding my hand out. “Mr. Rykman, I presume?”
His lips curved into a dirty, sexy smirk, and his grip on my hand was firm. “You presume correctly, Ms. O’Halloran. And, if you don’t mind my saying so, you make this awful Monday morning a lot brighter.”
My cheeks flushed. Damn my blush reflex. “Thank you. Should we get started?”
He was still holding my hand.
Houston, we have a problem. A really fucking big one.
This was bad.
Apparently, my day was determined to really go to shit, because there I was, staring into the eyes of the stripper...who was also the owner. And who, three weeks ago, had fucked the ever-loving shit out of me. And had the most wonderful cock.
Oh god. Why was I thinking about his cock? I shouldn’t have been thinking about his cock. What was I thinking?
About his cock, obviously.
Damn it, no! Thinking about his cock was off-limits. Any kind of anything to do with his cock was off-limits.
Why was I thinking cock so much?
I had to stop thinking about his...dick.
There. That made a nice change. But I was still thinking about it.
“Are you all right? You look a little dizzy.”
I forced myself to stop thinking and focused on the way he was looking at me. With that smirk still firmly in place, there was no doubt it was amusement, pure and simple.
I snatched my hand away from his. “Let’s get started, shall we? Michelle didn’t tell me anything you’d discussed, as she needed to leave town, so I’m behind on your thoughts.”
He motioned for me to take my seat again and sat opposite me. “Actually, I’d like to hear yours.”
I swept my hand down my skirt and peered up at him. “I only started work on this yesterday. I don’t have very much at all.”
“Well, what do you have?”
Was that smirk painted on? Had to be. Either that or he had very resilient facial muscles.
I tightened my jaw but released it before I spoke. I had to keep my cool. Professionalism would be key to getting through this job.
“I think you need to rebrand,” I told him.
“As in…a new logo?”
“Maybe an entire new look, but certainly, a new logo. It’s not a secret that a new look is the first key to getting attention.”
“Is there something wrong with the one we have now?” He slowly raised an eyebrow, still amused.
“Nothing, but it’s always my first suggestion. Usually for slow businesses, not ones that are still booming. But, considering the budget I’ve been given, I’d try it.” I tapped my pen against the table. “The next is what you do inside. Have you thought about a theme night? A once-a-week show?”