Double Down (2 page)

Leah took a healthy swallow of her red wine. “Nah, that’s a hot mess. You don’t wanna get mixed up in all that drama.”

For the privilege of holding those thighs, still wrapped in silk while he fucked her, Ryan would put up with a lot of drama. The last time he’d had an up-close encounter with a girl who liked fancy stockings had been in college with his ex-fiancée, Ashleigh.

Just look at how that had ended.

He shoved the past back where it belonged. “If anyone would know hot messes, Princess, it’d be you.”

“No way. That’s Tin Tin and his stream of women. All the way.”

“They’re not a stream.” Jon ran a hand over his dark hair, which was buzzed to a quarter inch like he were some Army grunt freak. “They’re a select assortment.”

Leah laughed. “That’s not what it looks like from here.”

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

“Right,” she replied with a look of disgust. “Just like I’d be jealous of the girls who make out with my brothers.”

Ryan let their patter fade into the background, knowing exactly how their sibling-style bickering would continue. Instead he watched the kitchen doors. A blur of reddish hair zipped past but didn’t return.

He tapped his fingers across the white tablecloth. It was way too long since he’d been with a woman who liked wearing rare bonuses like the stockings, because he certainly wasn’t about to ask for them. This was an opportunity too good to pass up.

He needed an in. Something that would give him an edge. Make a date with him a challenge. If it was also a way to snub her nose at that cocksucker, so much the better. Cassandra was way out of that guy’s league, and Ryan wasn’t above rubbing it in the other man’s nose.

He sat up straighter when she finally popped out the doors.

She plunked the credit-card holder down in front of Jon. “I’m sure you know the drill,” she said with laughter lurking in her voice. She turned to Ryan. “I hope you guys didn’t hear too much. Things have been strained around here lately.”

Leah knocked back the rest of her wine. “Why do you put up with that crap?”

She shrugged. Slight embarrassment flickered across her features, temporarily turning her lush mouth down. “It’s complicated.” She plastered a grin on. “Besides, the tips are great here. You have my permission to take that as a hint.”

Ryan laughed. “You’ve got more patience than the three of us combined.”

“That wouldn’t surprise me in the least.”

Jon and Leah slid out of the booth and headed toward the door. Knowing when to make an exit was only one of the things that made them such good friends.

Ryan dug his wallet out of his back pocket. “What time do you get off?”

She checked her watch. “About fifteen minutes, thank the sweet baby Jesus. You asking for a reason?” Her hip cocked saucily, that slim gray skirt clinging. Beneath it the black stockings made his palms itch with curiosity.

He pulled two fifty-dollar bills out of his leather wallet. “I tell you what. This is your tip, no matter what.”

Her lips parted on a quiet gasp. “That’s thirty percent.”

“You say the word and I’ll leave it on the table.”

“Or?”

He stood. Even in her slingback heels, she only came to his shoulder. Fuckin’ A, he liked that. He’d never been into the macho thing, but there was something about her that brought out his protective streak.

The fact that she was hot as hell in an apple-pie kind of way didn’t hurt at all.

“Or,” he echoed, dragging out the word. “You come with me and we’ll turn them into chips up on the Strip. Just to see what kind of trouble we can get into.”

Chapter Two

Cassandra Whitman did not fall for cheap lines. Or All-American smiles. Or biceps that strained against black cotton.

Nope. But being sainthood good for longer than she could remember made a girl greedy.

It didn’t help that she was still boiling mad at Tommy—make that General Manager Thomas Blakely. She deserved medals and commendations for not mouthing off even worse in front of Ryan and his friends. Choice remarks about Tommy’s allergy to foreplay and his Rogaine obsession had remained caged inside her seething brain.

She grinned at Ryan. “Your friend says you like a challenge. That true?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Oh, shoot. She went briefly weak in the knees. It wasn’t just the automatic “ma’am”, but how he made it earnest. A real Southern gentleman.

“Good,” she said. “Then here’s one for you.”

“I’m listening.”

He was. Completely. Dark eyes fixed on hers. He’d leaned closer. His intimate posture suggested confidences and sordid secrets. Crossed arms on another man might seem defensive, but Cass could only admire how his black button-down stretched smooth over the caps of his shoulders.

He took care of himself. She wanted him to take care of her.

A night out. It was about time.

“Tommy,” she said. “My manager.”

“And ex?”

“Definitely ex.” She matched his intimate posture, just the angle of her hips. “He never liked public displays of affection.”

“Guys who can’t perform generally don’t. Too many witnesses.” His voice was huskier now, going from good to wet-undies sexy.

Cass licked her bottom lip and smiled when he noticed. “But I don’t want to get fired. Can you meet me in about ten minutes?” She gestured back to the swinging doors that led to the kitchen. “Through there, take a right, and you’ll find the employee locker room.”

Something about this guy Ryan had her thinking words beginning with B. Brazen. Bold. Balls. If anyone had the balls to stride into the kitchen and kiss her in front of Tommy, it might be Ryan. If they both managed to go through with it…

Well, then the night had turned golden.

“How do I know this isn’t a plot to get rid of me? Ten minutes is a long time. Slip out the back door. I’d never see you again.”

He made that sound like a tragedy. Cass definitely approved.

“Consider it a show of faith. Just like I’ll assume you aren’t some weirdo murderer maniac.”

Oh, he had a great smile. She loved guys who smiled. Tall, built,
interested
guys who smiled were like big-time Vegas jackpots. You heard about them, but you never imagined seeing one in person.

Some sex demon took possession of her hand. That studly arm was too tempting. She ran the tip of her finger down the firm curve of muscle. The breath Ryan quietly sucked in was almost as exciting as his body.

“I’ll be there,” she said. “And I’ll clean up. I hate smelling like I’ve been hauling steak for six hours.”

Before he could reply, before she lost her nerve, Cass turned and walked toward the kitchen. When she reached the door, she couldn’t help but look back over her shoulder. Ryan stood in the same spot. Arms still crossed. Expression still intense. He was staring at her, but not at a guy’s usual T&A choices. Cass glanced down at her calves, half thinking she’d find a splatter or stain. Wouldn’t have been surprising at all. After six hours on the floor, she felt like a filthy dishrag.

She only found her stockings, the seamed ones she wore when she wanted to feel like a woman, not an overworked waitress and gallery lackey.

Ryan met her eyes. His frank sexual interest was one thing. The naughty grin sent a shiver up her spine.

She barged into the kitchen. The doors clanged against the inside wall. She laughed to herself when the staff looked up from their preparation tables and sizzling grills. Pulsing excitement made her giddy, even reckless.

After shutting the locker-room door, she stripped out of her disgusting uniform. The only thing she had to change into was the spare set she kept for emergencies—yet another gray pencil skirt and white shirt. Her plans for the evening had involved staggering home exhausted, with a shower and pajamas optional as she collapsed. Now she had the energy of a nuclear reactor.

Gillian Flores, an MFA candidate who studied sculpture, shut her locker. “You outta here?”

“Yup. You just getting here?” Cass ran hot water in the sink.

“Tommy’s gonna give me shit for being late again.”

“I wouldn’t worry about him tonight.”

Gilly doubled a rubber band around her thick black ponytail. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I got him covered.”

“Now I’m intrigued. You plan on giving him the kicking he deserves?”

After running a washcloth over her skin, Cass toweled off. “Just don’t be out on the floor in about four minutes. I’ve found someone intriguing.”

She wiggled into her spare uniform. The skirt wasn’t the flashiest in the world, but she appreciated how it fit. Like the stockings, it made her feel curvy and feminine. She undid her hair and combed it with water, then braided two pigtails that trailed over her shoulders. Splash of perfume. Powder and clear lip gloss. She didn’t have time for anything else.

Cass had just slipped back into her heels—her tired feet protesting like whoa damn—when she heard the commotion in the kitchen. Perhaps the sound of a certain customer venturing where he didn’t belong? A glance at the wall clock made her smile.

Tall. Built. And punctual.

She’d almost been second-guessing herself. He was right in saying ten minutes was a long time—not for getting ready, but for letting the doubts creep in.

“So show me the money, missy.” Gilly, wearing the world’s most fantastic shit-eating grin, pulled opened the locker-room door with a flourish.

Ryan was right there, standing in the doorway. His hand was poised to knock. Backlit by the much brighter lights of the kitchen, he filled the space. Owned it. “There you are, Cassandra.”

Shivers that were becoming more familiar by the second climbed up Cass’s back. He said her name like the low harmony of a song, making love to each syllable.

She gulped back the last of her nerves and met him in the doorway. He offered his arm like the Southern gentleman she’d imagined. His forearm was solid beneath her fingertips.

Fluorescent lighting generally did no one any favors. Not so with Ryan. Now she could see the exact sun-tea shade of his short, neat hair. His skin was smooth and lightly tanned, with only the slightest hint of scruff. His eyes weren’t as dark as when the dining room’s tasteful low-watt atmosphere had obscured their color. In truth they were a perfect blend of brown and green, a true hazel, full of mischief and blatant, panty-dropping desire.

Cass snuggled deeper, with her palm curled flat around that miraculous biceps.

“You ready?” he asked.

She looked around the kitchen. Tommy was nowhere to be found. A flicker of disappointment seemed ridiculous considering the man she stood next to.

It seemed the fates and the gods and the whole damn universe were on her side that night. Tommy walked through the swinging doors. He stopped dead. Pinched eyes swerved from Ryan to Cass, then back to Ryan again. If a man could bristle, Tommy did.

“Can I help you?”

“No, sir.” Ryan glanced down at Cass, his humor like an aphrodisiac. “I’m good.”

“You can’t be in here.”

Lordy, how had she put up with that for six months? Being sensible wasn’t worth that level of compromise. What did it say about Tommy that his customer was the one who used “sir” while he mislaid that courtesy?

“Don’t worry,” Ryan said. “We were just leaving.”

Tommy smoothed a hand down his suit, that telltale nervous habit of his. “Cass, you said you’d close tonight.”

Shoot. She had.

“That was probably because you thought I was a no-show,” Gilly said. She stood against the notice wall where schedules and time cards were the only decoration. All the finery in Blakely’s was saved for the dining room. “I’m here now. I’ll close.”

Cass mouthed a silent
thank you
to her friend. Knowing Gilly, she’d want to be repaid in details. Maybe for once Cass would have a few to share.

“I can’t believe you,” Tommy said.

The flush was high on his cheeks. He was handsome. He really was, no matter his squint and his lanky thinness. Yet he could look downright rodentlike when he turned mean. Cass suppressed a shiver of a different kind. Their last argument—the Big One, as she’d dubbed it—had revealed his true colors. Being called desert trash wasn’t something she’d ever forgive, let alone how he’d wet his wiener between Cynthia’s rail-thin thighs.

“You’re just going to go with this guy? This guy you met an hour ago?”

“Now hold up there.” Ryan’s voice sounded gruff and confrontational, but Cass caught the teasing glint in his eyes. “I was a
customer
an hour ago. We only met about, what, fifteen minutes ago?”

“Maybe twenty,” Cass said. “Not long.”

“Yeah, not long.”

She’d been expecting a grand, passionate grope—the kind that would roast the innards of any still-clingy, still-possessive ex. That didn’t seem to be Ryan’s style. He leaned down, taking his time, inviting the tiny world of Blakely’s kitchen to watch. He nudged one pigtail aside with his nose. His kiss, when it came, was the gentlest touch of skin to skin. Warm lips pressed against the hollow behind her jaw, just below her earlobe.

Much
better. She forced herself to hold still, to soak in his deliberate restraint. Let ’em wonder what went on behind closed doors. They’d get no wild mauling from this gentleman.

Only his exhalation gave him away, hot against her cheek. Too fast. Too erratic.
Good
. She liked the idea that he was raring to go, no matter this slow pantomime.

Ryan straightened to his full height. He nodded once to Tommy, then to Gillian. “Sir, ma’am, have a good evening.”

Cass helped make their in-your-face exit perfect by guiding him back through the kitchen toward the door to the employee parking lot. Her knees were mush. Her feet felt a hundred yards away. Every time she thought her strength would fail—out of sheer, unbelievable excitement—she gripped his rock-solid arm.

The air outside was no relief. Vegas in April may as well be a cool day in hell, and it wasn’t even summer yet. The exit door closed behind them. Compared to the din in the kitchen and the throb in Cass’s head, the city noises were almost peaceful.

Ryan chuckled. “Hot damn, that was fun.”