Club Saturday: Contemporary Menage Romance (Sarasota Sin Series Book 2) (27 page)

“Yes.”

“Sure you don’t want to work here?” Payton snatched a tortilla chip. “Don’t let seventy-five kids scare you off.”

“Though Avery accepted my relationship with Evan and Drake without too much of a fuss —"
 

“How could he argue after the hell you went through?”

“Still, there’s a strong possibility I might need a job soon.” Though she was on personal leave, Vania figured Avery would fire her the second he walked in and spotted his pregnant wife with spackling paste smeared across her face and shirt. “I wish both managers Julian hired would’ve worked out for you.”

“I’ll interview future applicants.” Payton dusted salt off her hands. “I can sniff out anyone who finds a greasy wrench or a dripping plunger a personal insult. I say there’s nothing wrong with rolling up your sleeves.”

“There’s one particular redhead who shouldn’t be rolling up her sleeves at all!”

Vania nearly dropped her lemonade when Dylan and Avery stormed to the table. The urge to duck hit her. “I couldn’t stop her, Mr. Easton, uh, and Mr. Easton.”
 

Avery took Payton’s lemonade. “I’m sure you couldn’t.”

“Relax, you two.” Payton huffed. “It was just a little drywall work. Took me fifteen minutes tops.”

Avery turned blue around the mouth. “I swear I’ll tie you —"

“Hand over that chip,” Dylan demanded while easing her into a chair. “The doctor said you were eating too much salt.”

“I need something with flavor,” Payton argued.

Avery unscrewed a bottle of water and crammed a wedge of lemon inside it. “Here’s your flavor.”

Payton sniffed it, and then hastily yanked the bottle from her nose. “Vania, would you pour me another glass of your delicious lemonade?”

“Oh, please, your husbands are my bosses.” She caught sight of Evan, Drake, and Julian stepping from an SUV.
 
“Do you really want to put me in this position?”

Payton snorted and pointed to the parking lot, her wedding rings catching the setting sun. “Even from here, I see how Drake and Evan look at you. Best get in good with your future sister-n-law.” She reached for another tortilla chip, but Dylan moved the basket. “I’ve learned invaluable tips on managing Easton men, which would grant you a significant learning curve.”

Dylan and Avery rolled their eyes.

Libby walked around the corner while rubbing her tummy. Surprisingly enough, Trey’s wife was showing. “Are we forming an alliance?”
 

“Not yet,” Payton said, “but she’ll come around.”
 

Trey placed his hand on Vania’s shoulder, about to say hello, when his eyes widened at the sight of Payton. “What the…” They bounced from each splatter and smear of spackling paste before settling back on Payton’s face. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“Yes.” Payton managed to snag a saltine cracker after Vania dumped a few sleeves in a stoneware bowl. “I want to thank Vania for preparing our homecoming dinner.”

“Here. Here!” Julian walked over and kissed Libby and Payton, and then slid his arm over Vania’s shoulders and gave her a peck on the temple. “Everything smells delicious. Thanks for including me. Miles, however, sends his regards but he can’t make it.”

Vania smiled up at Julian. “Maybe next time?”
 

“Hopefully.”

“Get your own,” Evan growled. He wrapped his forearm around Vania’s waist and eased her back to his chest.
 

Drake dipped his head and gave her a chaste kiss on the lips. “Yes, this one’s taken.”

“Go caveman another time.” Libby ladled a generous serving of chili in her bowl. “This is real food.”
 

Payton wrapped her fingers around a bottle of hot sauce. “None of those Easton Hotel prissy, foo-foo platters, we’re living large tonight.”

Drake smiled against Vania’s forehead and kept her cocooned between him and Evan. “How are you?”

“How do I look?” They went through this daily.
 

“Beautiful,” Evan said, “but that’s not what Drake means. You were dreaming last night and —"

“I’m fine.”
 

She moved to sit next to Libby, but both men pulled her back again. In the next second, Evan was dangling something glittery in front of her face before the distinctive weight of a diamond landed against her throat.
 

God only knew how much it cost. “That feels too big.”

“That’s what you said last night, and I told you to relax.”

Vania elbowed Evan in the stomach to hoots of laughter from the men and applause from Payton and Libby.

“Do you like it?” Drake appeared concerned. She hadn’t accepted any extravagant gifts from them prior to this one.
 
But she had to face facts. Unlike Vania, Drake and Evan didn’t shop at
Walmart
.

She tiptoed and kissed his jaw. “How could I not? Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She reached behind her, fisted Evan’s hair, and brought him down for a kiss. “I will treasure this. Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

“Will the owner of a soaking wet cat please step forward?” A gravel-sexy voice asked.

“A
wet
cat?” Vania gasped, and then frantically searched the Koi pond. “Shit! One is missing!”

“One?” Drake asked. “As in
fish
?”

“Yes, the orange and white one with the little black dot between his eyes.”

“Sounds familiar but there wasn’t much left of the fish for identification purposes,” that same voice replied.

As she turned towards the voice, Vania cupped her throat so hard that the doorknob-sized diamond slammed into her larynx. She wheezed, “You’re Noah Wyatt!”

Bemused, Noah held out a dripping Oscar, aiming him towards Vania. “I take it that Libby or Payton didn’t tell you I was coming?”

Libby started laughing. “And miss Vania’s reaction? No way.”

Noah gave Libby a look. “Gee, thanks.”

“I… I made chili.” Vania tried to step forward, but her arms and legs had turned into pipe cleaners. “You probably want something… else. Uh, w-what do rock stars eat?”

“This one eats chili.”

Evan reached for Oscar, whose legs were pin-wheeling to scratch anyone he could dig his claws into. “I’ll take this little bastard upstairs and towel him off…
 
Baby, are you okay?”

“I made chili,” Vania repeated dazedly.

Payton pointed to a chair. “She needs to sit down.”

Drake rolled his eyes and helped Vania find a seat. “Let’s get some food into you.”

Two hours later Julian wedged
his cellphone between his shoulder and ear. “Nothing is wrong, Drake.”
 

He checked his reflection in the elevator wall and scrubbed his hand over his dark blonde stubble. He should probably step into his office and shave before he buried his face between a woman’s legs.
 
Then again, most women didn’t mind roughness from him. And if he took someone waxed bare, Julian’s scruff would get her hotter faster.

This meant
he
could get off sooner and leave.

When did that thought creep up on him?

“No one tailed me from the firehouse, either. I went completely unnoticed; I assure you.” Or he wouldn't have risked coming straight to Level 69. His private sex club was well hidden beneath The Easton Hotel and catered to the specific needs of the affluent. Currently, he was the one with specific needs.

“I understand.” Julian couldn’t blame Drake for questioning him. Paparazzi were everywhere, chasing each Easton more than usual since Dylan was back in Sarasota with his new bride. Little did the vultures know that Avery was also Payton’s husband.

Nor would they find out.

Because if money could buy anything, there wasn’t anything that an Easton couldn’t have or anyone an Easton couldn't pay off.

“Listen, I’m in the elevator heading down. Yeah, later.” He slid his phone in his pocket and punched the six and then the nine, before leaning back and closing his eyes. He was so tired that he could probably sleep standing up, but he needed to deal with what he’d coined
carnal restlessness
.
 

So here he was again, about to have sex with a stranger or strangers, depending on who joined the Lovely he picked tonight. Either way, he didn’t care. None of them would be what he wanted, not since he’d set eyes on Cora wearing that dress at the fundraiser.

The fact that he was a decade older than Cora should deter him, but forbidden fruit was impossible not to taste when dangling in front of his mouth. So keeping his body sexually drained was the only way to make it through the workweek.

After the car stopped and Julian stepped through the secret door to his club, he breathed in illegal cigars and overpriced bourbon. The place was packed, netting him a small fortune as each minute ticked by, so why did he feel empty?

“Can I get you a drink, Sir?” A server walked up to Julian, trying to stay professional though her nipples were pebbling by the second.

“You’re new here?”

“Yes, Sir.”
 

Strands of black hair slid over her bare shoulders. He could see that it was bottle dyed, since it wouldn’t catch the light.
 
But the color was still black and Julian had an imagination that never let him down. “When is your shift over?”

“Whenever you need her.” Julian’s club manager stepped out and took the server’s tray. “This is Vicki.
 
Vicki, meet your boss Julian Easton.”

“My pleasure, Sir.”

It hit Julian then. He’d already set his mind on taking the woman without first knowing her name. An atrocity of which he’d accused Drake so many times that he lost count.
 

Vicki deserved better.

Julian deserved no less than a kick in the ass.
 

In the mood he was in, he needed to leave. Just get the fuck away from the club, disappear from the hotel grounds, and think about what he was doing.
 

He excused himself and left.
 

When the salty, Florida air finally reached him, he paused briefly outside Tower Amore and took a cleansing breath. He rounded the corner, lifted the phone to his ear, and spoke to his driver. Just as he ended the call, Julian caught sight of ebony hair gleaming under a gaslight. His breath hitched in his throat when he realized who she was.

“Cora,” he whispered, taking a step forward.

Then another.

And another.

Before he knew what he was about, Julian was standing next to her, reaching out to touch the satiny skin of her shoulder. “Cora? What are you doing at the hotel so late?”

Her eyes widened. “I’m here for dinner, Mr. Easton.” She gestured to the outdoor bistro, and then to a man Julian hadn’t spotted before his trek over.
 

“Mr. Easton, hello.” The stranger held out his hand, waiting for Julian to shake it.
 
“I’m Jeff Farren from the twelfth floor.”

What the hell? This man wasn’t Patrick. “Twelfth floor,” he repeated lamely and shook Jeff’s hand. “Accounting.” Julian finally remembered. “Great to meet you, Jeff.” He kept his eyes on Cora. “I hope you enjoy working for us.”

“I’ve been with the company for six years now,” Jeff replied, but not in the usual ass-kissing way of other, more eager employees. Jeff’s eyes kept flicking to Cora. And who could blame him for all the cleavage she was putting out there for the world to see.
 

“Did you want to join us for a drink?” Cora asked cordially though her eyes were anything but friendly. “We’re still waiting for our table.”

“I don’t want to interrupt.” Julian’s inner caveman screamed for him to throw Cora over his shoulder and beat his fists against his chest. “Another time.”

“I’ll grab some wine.” Jeff inclined his head to the outdoor bar. “Goodnight, Mr. Easton.”

“Goodnight.” When Julian turned to Cora, he said, “I’ll get your table for you now.” He raised a hand to call the host, but Cora pressed her fingertips against his arm.
 

“Don’t pressure the staff on my behalf,” she whispered, “but thanks anyway.”

“Just trying to help.”

Something struck Julian as he gazed down at this stunning woman, with the gaslight reflecting the curve of her cheek. All his adult life, he had treated women like queens, but he put them away gently when he finished playing. Now, he was on the other end of his game.
 
He drooled after one who was not only too young, but also cared nothing for him. At least,
now
she didn’t. Then again, how could she just drop her lust this quickly?

Hmm, maybe he should test the theory.

Monday started a new workweek, and Jeff the leering accountant wouldn’t be on the top floor to interfere.
 

Game on.

“Enjoy your night, Cora.”
 

“Goodnight, Sir.”

Chapter 30