When the set ended, I headed straight for the bar, but was waylaid by one of the men, who flashed a hundred dollar bill, then tucked it in the band of the G-string I wore. "I'm looking for a little quiet conversation, sweet thing," he said as I took a step back, suddenly feeling very naked and wanting a bit of distance from the panting way he was looking at me. "Why don't you come with me to the back?"
I was running through my options for saying no, when Tyler approached, then plucked out the bill. He handed it to the man. "Sorry to disappoint, but this lovely lady has a private engagement in the VIP room."
I almost sagged in relief. "Sorry, sugar," I said. "Maybe next time."
"There won't be a next time," Tyler said when we were out of earshot. "You dance on the stage. Nowhere else. Not unless you're dancing for me."
I feigned shock. "But what about the man waiting for me in the VIP room?"
"Change of venue," Tyler said as we entered the employee section. "He'll see you in my office."
He had me inside and pressed up hard against the wall as soon as the door closed behind us. I gasped, breathless from his long, deep kiss, as he slipped a finger inside me, even while easing down to take my breast in his mouth.
He suckled me, making me feel wild--making me feel aware. So that I seemed to know every hair, every nerve ending, every tiny burst of sensation in my body.
"You're so ready for me," he murmured.
"I was ready the first moment I saw you. That night at the party, when I saw you walking toward me, I wanted you so desperately it was almost painful." I turned my head away, not wanting him to see my eyes, suddenly afraid that I'd revealed too much.
He cupped my cheek and eased my head back so that there was no escaping his gaze. "Yes," he said, and that simple word seemed to hold a world of meaning.
I sighed. "You do something to me, Tyler. I look at you and ..."
"And what?"
"And I want."
His smile was slow and painfully sexy. "What do you want, Sloane?"
You. "Exactly what you're doing," I said instead.
"I can't get enough of you," he said. "You're like oxygen. I crave you, I need you, I can't live without you."
"Oxygen's explosive," I teased.
"It most definitely is," he said as he lifted me. I hooked my legs around him, and he carried me to his desk. "Lay back," he ordered, and I complied without argument.
"Oh, yes," he said, his voice filled with heat and appreciation. "I like the way you look. Stretched out, naked and flush, like an offering to a god."
"Would that be you?"
He chuckled. "It might be."
"What are you going to do?" I couldn't help my whisper, or the hint of anticipation that stole into my voice.
"I could just stand here and look at you. Your skin is so pale that I see every subtle change, every flush when you become aroused. I like knowing how much you want me. How much you like me looking at you. Me wanting you."
He slowly stroked his hands up my legs. "And this is the rest. Touching you. Feeling the way your muscles tremble. Hearing how you draw breath when my fingers graze ever so gently over your skin." As if in illustration, he drew a lazy fingertip over my thigh. "Turn over now," he said.
I turned, lying flat on the desktop, my legs together, my head turned to one side.
"No," he said, "Ease down. Feet on the floor. Legs spread. Bend over and hold on."
I moved as he spoke, then realized I was biting my lip, a reflection of both nerves and excitement.
Slowly, he stroked his hand over my back, tracing the curve of my spine, the swell of my rear. "Yes," he said, in a voice heavy with lust and heat. "You're perfect, Sloane, so fucking perfect."
I said nothing. I wasn't perfect--not by a long shot. But in that moment, I felt like I was.
He leaned over, his clothes brushing my naked flesh in a way that made me shiver almost as much as his words. "I'm going to fuck you, Sloane. Fast and hard. I'm going to lose myself inside you, and I'm going to hold tight as I feel you explode."
I couldn't speak. I couldn't move. I could only wait in breathless anticipation as he took off his jacket, then folded it and gently placed it between my belly and the edge of the desk.
I drew in a breath--Tyler's hands, his touch, his words all made me wet with longing. But that one tiny courtesy had me close to crumpling with desire and respect and something that, in another place and time, just might be love.
He touched me, using his fingers to open me wide, make me even more aroused, so that I was whimpering with need by the time I heard the distinctive sound of his zipper.
And then--oh, thank god--I felt the thick head of his cock push against me, gentle at first, teasing me, and then with one solid thrust he buried himself inside me, and I cried out as the warmth of his body pressed up against my ass, trapping me between him and the desk.
I leaned forward more, stretching my arms so that I could clutch the far side of the desktop. "Hard," I said. "I've wanted you inside me since that damn dressing room. Fuck me hard, Tyler, please."
He didn't answer in words, but his hands tightened on my hips and the pounding rhythmic thrusts were all the answer I needed. Again and again he entered me, burying himself deep inside me until I was swirling outside myself, lost in the sweet heat of it all.
I heard myself crying out in pleasure. Heard the slap of his body against mine. And then, when he slipped his hand between our bodies to stroke my clit and bring me even higher, I lost everything except the brilliant, burning glow of the orgasm, building and building until it threatened to send me shooting off into some other plane of existence, where only Tyler could find me.
He came after me, his cry of release so wild and masculine and loud, I was certain that everyone still in the club knew exactly what we were doing. Right then, I really didn't care.
"Sweetheart," he murmured, then curled me into his arms and laid me gently on the desktop.
I smiled lazily at him. "That was seriously awesome," I said.
His answering grin was smug and very male. "Oh, yes," he said. "I do like our arrangement."
"Mmm," I murmured in agreement as I stretched like a cat, as if this desk was as comfortable as the most plush of beds. "Right now, I'm a very satisfied customer."
The jacket had fallen to the floor, and Tyler bent to pick it up. Then handed it to me. I slipped it on, breathing in the scent of him that clung to the material.
I was starting to button it when the door burst open.
"Goddammit," Tyler began, but he stopped when he saw Cole, his expression a mixture of anger and fear.
Cole's eyes darted to me, then focused on Tyler.
"Lizzy" was all he said.
Chapter Twenty
Tyler caught the attention of the first nurse we came across as he, Cole, and I barreled into the ER at Cook County Medical. "Elizabeth Rodriguez," he said. "Car accident. Where?"
"Just one moment and I'll find out for you." Her words were calm and her manner efficient, and it was clear that she was used to handling crises. She crossed to a work station and typed something into the computer. "Exam room A. Down the corridor and then to the left."
Neither man ran, but I still had to in order to keep up with their long strides. I'd changed in a hurry, and when I couldn't find my shoes, I'd snatched a pair of flip-flops that someone had left in the break room. The flip-flops were a size too big, and slapped at the polished tile floor as I ran.
I still didn't know exactly what had happened other than that their former employee, Lizzy, had been in a nasty car accident that afternoon. She'd been unconscious for over an hour, which had worried the doctors, but had otherwise gotten away with only severe bruises and lacerations.
The car, apparently, had been completely totaled.
When she'd regained consciousness, she'd asked that the nurse contact the owners of Destiny.
She was asleep when we came in, and in the dim light of the various machines, the mottled purple an
d red bruises and welts on her face stood out gruesomely.
I hung back as Cole and Tyler approached the bed, and I saw the way their shoulders straightened, saw their posture go rigid with anger over this offense to the human body.
And then--though I hadn't seen it coming--I saw Cole lash out and smash his fist through the thin, pressboard wall.
I jumped in surprise, but beside him, Tyler didn't even blink. "Calm down or take it outside, man. She doesn't need to see you breaking shit."
"Fuck." Cole rubbed his hands over his shaved head, and as he turned back toward Lizzy, I caught a glimpse of a dragon tattoo on the back of his neck, the bulk hidden beneath his conservative suit jacket. "Jesus, fuck, just look at her."
He took a step closer to the hospital bed, then took Lizzy's hand. I edged farther into the room, then moved down toward the foot so that I could see everyone, but still be out of the way.
Even with two black eyes and a nasty bruise rising on her cheek, I could tell she was pretty. Her blond hair was matted now, but I could tell she wore it in the same style as Amy, shoulder-length with bangs. Her arm was in a cast, and I had no idea about the state of her legs.
At the bedside, Cole gently stroked the fingers of her healthy hand while Tyler ran a gentle hand over her hair.
"Hey, Lizzy girl," Tyler said. "You in there?"
When there was no answer, he glanced toward Cole. Their eyes met, and I saw so much pity and concern between the two of them that I wanted to cry.
"She worked for you?"
"Used to dance at Destiny," Tyler said. "Earned her GED a few months ago, and just got her first office job. She's one of ours," he added, with a quick glance to me.
I nodded, understanding that she'd been pulled out of the trafficking ring. Poor girl had been through more than anyone should have to endure.
At her bedside, Tyler shook his head as if to clear it. "I'll need to call Franklin. Get a temp to fill her slot."
Her chart hung at the foot of the bed, and I flipped through it. I'm no expert, but when you work homicide, vice, or sex crimes long enough, you see the inside of a lot of hospitals and have the occasion to look at more than a few charts. As far as I could tell, Lizzy looked like a woman who had gotten supremely lucky. She'd be in some serious pain for a while, but in the end, bruises would fade and broken bones would heal.
I told them so, not sure if my words would give any comfort or not. To my surprise, it was Cole who turned to look at me. He nodded, one quick motion. "Thanks."
"You're welcome."
I'm not sure what compelled me, but I moved from the end of the bed to Tyler's side. "Do you want me to get you guys anything? Some coffee, maybe, while we wait."
"No," Cole said. "I'm good. Appreciate it."
"Stay," Tyler said, and as he spoke, he reached for my hand.
I took it without thinking, and as Lizzy stirred, Tyler's fingers tightened around mine.
"Lizzy. It's Cole. Wake up, sweetheart."
At first, she didn't react, and I feared that she'd fallen back into a deep sleep. Then her eyes fluttered. The left one blinked open, the swollen right one remained glued shut.
"Hey there, kid," Tyler said, softly. "You're going to be just fine."
"Tyler?" I could barely hear her thin, fragile voice.
"Cole's here, too. Evan's on his way."
Cole clutched her hand. "What happened?"
She licked her lips. "Water?"
While Tyler found the water for her, Cole fiddled with the bed. "Do you want to sit up?" he asked, then raised the bed in response to her affirmative nod.
She scanned the room, her eyes stopping on me.
"I'm Sloane," I said. "I'm a friend of Amy's."
"Sloane's with me," Tyler said. "Go on. Do you feel up to telling us what happened?"
"My fault--ran a red light." A tear trickled down her cheek. "The guy I hit?"
"Fine," Cole assured her. "I asked when I got the first call. Treated at the scene. You didn't hurt him."
She nodded, then winced, as she reached again for the water.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have--" Her eyes drooped. "Medicine. I'm sorry. So sleepy."
"Go back to sleep. You don't have anything to be sorry about," Tyler said. "It was an accident. And I'll get a temp to cover for you. Just take your time, and you can go back to work when you're well."
"No." Her eyes fluttered open. "Franklin ... please ... shoulda taken ... pop job ... I don't ..." Her eyes drifted closed, and sleep took her.
Cole tilted his head up to meet Tyler's eyes.
"Poor kid," Tyler said.
Cole glanced at me. "You two take my car. You go on to the benefit. I'm going to stay with Lizzy for a while."
"You sure?"
"Hell, yes."
Tyler hesitated, then pressed a kiss to Lizzy's forehead before leading me out.
"It's horrible," I said. "She's lucky, though. It could have been worse."
Tyler nodded, his expression pensive.
"Did you arrange that job for her?"
"Got her in with Eli Franklin. Solid job for her. Second assistant to Franklin himself. He's into real estate, and damned successful, too. We were lucky to add him to our client list. Lizzy's the first placement with him."
"You mentioned helping the girls at the house find jobs, too," I said.
He nodded. "I own a placement agency. Knight & Day staffing. I bought the company for a song, and still probably paid too much."
"I think I remember reading that you owned an agency." I grinned wryly. "You own so many things it got lost in the list."
"You could say it's a pet project. The entire organization was a mess, but I changed the name and put in a hell of a lot of man-hours. In the end it was worth my time, and my investment. It's turned out to be profitable. And worthwhile."
"Doesn't really seem sexy enough for one of Chicago's leading businessmen," I teased as we exited the hospital and headed for the emergency parking area where Cole had parked his Range Rover.
"The press is interested in sexy. All I care about is profit and functionality. In this case, I was looking at function. But because I'm a goddamn miracle worker, we're also turning a tidy profit now."
"What kind of function? I mean, job placement, obviously, but ..."
"The girls," he said. "The ones you met, of course, but the other staff at Destiny. Waitresses, dancers. A lot of women turn to exotic dancing because they don't have the money for school. Because they ended up with a kid but no husband. They don't have the education to make more than minimum wage. K&D helps them out. Placement, tuition assistance, job training." He lifted a shoulder. "It's working."
"K&D helps them out," I repeated. "You mean you help them out."
"I do what I can." We'd arrived at the car.
"Why?"
"Because they deserve better," Tyler said, opening the door for me. "And if they're willing to work for it, then I'm willing to help."
Good pay, good benefits, good policy regarding customer interaction with the girls. A semi-charitable boarding house. And a protective attitude toward those women that melted my heart. It wasn't the kind of thing I expected a criminal mastermind with a swindler's heart to say. It wasn't what I'd expected when I'd made the drive into Chicago.
But I was looking at Tyler with my own eyes. And not the eyes of a woman who'd been soundly and thoroughly seduced. I was seeing the man with eyes trained to see evidence and nuance. And I had to admit that I liked what I was uncovering.
This Tyler was a man who'd raced to the bedside of a girl he employed. A man who had not only rescued women, but had built up an entire support system for them.
Maybe he did have some seedy side businesses, but at his heart, the Tyler I'd seen and touched and fucked was a different breed of man than the one Kevin sought.
Assuming, of course, that I was really seeing the man. Nobody is what they seem.
The possibility that he was showing me only what I wanted to
see gnawed at me, but I pushed it away. Both my instincts and the evidence said that I'd seen the real Tyler.
And when you got right down to it, what else was there to look at?
"You're a good man, Tyler Sharp," I said softly, once he was seated in the car beside me.
"No, I'm not." He drew in a long, tired breath. "But I have my moments."
Chapter Twenty-One
"I don't think I've ever dined with the fishes," I said, as Tyler took my arm and led me to one of the cash bars set up under the watchful eye of a sleek, Bonnethead shark.
The event was in the Shedd Aquarium's Caribbean Reef rotunda. During the day, clusters of schoolchildren and tourists wandered this room. But now it was filled with over two hundred men and women gathered in small groups, chatting and drinking and watching the underwater world float by in the giant tank that sat like a centerpiece in the middle of the stunning room.
"I feel a little like Ariel," I said, referring to The Little Mermaid.
"Does that make me your Prince Charming?"
I grinned up at him. "Maybe. It depends on if you find me wine."
"A quest," he said, "for the fair maiden Ariel. Come, my princess, let us be off."
I laughed. "Okay. I take it back."
"I'll admit I'm no prince," he said, "but you are as beautiful tonight as any princess ever was." He hooked a finger under my chin and tilted my head up so that he could press a gentle kiss to my lips.
I sighed, feeling soft and girly and romantic, and when I took his arm, I realized I was smiling.
"What are you thinking?"
"That this feels like a date," I said. "Considering how we've spent our time together so far, that makes the night a standout."
He lifted my hand, then kissed my fingertips. "Disappointed?"
"No," I said softly. "Not even a little bit."
We continued on to the bar, where he got a Scotch and I got a glass of white wine. "I prefer red," I said as we moved back into the throng. "But I don't usually get this dressed up, and I'm currently suffering from the rather overwhelming fear that I'd get red wine all over my gown."
"Then I'd just have to strip it off you," he said, with a cocky, sexy grin.
I rolled my eyes. "Down boy. Fancy dress function, remember? Best behavior."
We were continuing the circuit around the coral reef tank, and arrived at a series of tables topped with a variety of baskets, each with a clipboard and paper. "So what exactly is the purpose of this function?"