THOR (6 page)

The image of my scrawny math tutor facing off against six foot four of erupting fury. Not pretty.

My throat tightens. “I don’t remember.”

“You’re lying.”

“Let me go.”

“That’s wrong.” His lips twisted and I can hardly tear myself away from his expression. Something from behind his blue eyes shifts and he is scarily angry. I’m a little taken aback, maybe even worried, because he basically has me trapped beneath him. But, I love it. Luke’s shifting into some fierce caveman warrior before my eyes.

“Taking a girl to bed when she’s drunk is more than wrong. Wasted consent isn’t consent. A short, hot make out session with a girl that is drunk, maybe. Sex, never.”

Anger oozes from every pore and he stares down at me for a long minute.

“I got drunk so I could have sex, Luke. He didn’t take advantage of me. It was pre-medicated.”

I shake my head. “I mean pre…”

“Pre-meditated?” he offers.

“Yes,” I shove his shoulder and slowly he lifts, but I can see he still doesn’t really believe me.

“I planned on having sex for the first time, because I thought I wanted to know what all the fuss was about, but I got nervous. Like really nervous. So I had too much to drink. It was a bad experience. I don’t really want to date. Ever since I started at the club, I’ve sworn men off. I’ve seen them at their worst and none of them interest me. Seriously. None.”

He gets to his feet and pulls me to mine. The expression on his face is gentle. The warmth in his eyes melts something inside me but I can’t let him close. I have to keep blinders on.

“I think I’m sexaphobic.”

His lips quirk. “There’s no such thing.”

“You’re looking at the first known case.”

His lips curve into a grin. “And you’re looking at the only known cure.”

Luke

Olivia retreated to her room like a frightened rabbit.
Sexaphobic
. Fuck that. I’ll show her how good it can be between us.

I prowl the house, not sure what to do with myself. Go to her room to check on her? Ignore her? I want to hold her again and taste her lips. I’d also like to find the man who slept with her when she was drunk, and hurt him.

Clouds darken the sky and thunder rumbles, another wave of Texas thunderstorms.

I get a text from Nate telling me he won’t make it down this week, after all. My mind is so wrapped around Olivia, I’d forgotten he was coming. I’m glad he’s postponing because I want Olivia all to myself.

She hides from me all afternoon and I’m sure she’s eaten next to nothing. I have a few dishes I make that are pretty damned impressive if I do say so myself, and I know just how to lure her into the kitchen. Flat iron steaks with mashed potatoes.

I start with the meat, searing it quickly. The aroma fills the kitchen and I imagine her upstairs trying to work. The mushrooms sauté for all of three minutes and she’s in the doorway. This afternoon, she had the fragile look. Now, she looks mad. Perfect.

“Doing okay?” I stir the mushrooms and add the wine.

She comes to the stove like she’s being reeled in by the smell. “I kinda hate you.”

I hand her my wine glass and she takes a sip.

“You think I’m sharing this with you?” I ask.

“I think you are because you want to fatten me up.”

I return my attention to the pan and try to fend off the dirty thoughts that swarm my mind. She’s got a body meant for sin and I’d like to throw her over my shoulder and take her to bed. To hell with dinner.

Fatten her up? The idea takes hold and I imagine her sweet body filling out with a baby and I know that’s fucked up. I’ve never had that thought about another woman but there it is.

I force myself to think of something that’s a little more refined than getting Olivia knocked up. “I don’t know why you want to lose weight, you could stand to put on a little weight, if you ask me. I need to feed you so you can help me with my pushups. It felt like a butterfly landed on my back.”

“That’s nice of you to say.”

“Don’t sound so surprised. I can be nice. Want to watch a movie after dinner?”

“Okay…”

Her response is tentative and I give her an inquiring look.

“I’m not kissing you. That was a mistake this afternoon.”

I suppress a grin. Little Miss Big and Bad and going to make a cool mill or two is afraid of kissing. Like I’m going to pull a trick on her like that dickhead did. Talk about chickenshit.

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

She frowns and is about to say something more, but refrains.

The wine and mushroom reduces and I serve the steaks, along with mashed potatoes and asparagus. We eat at the kitchen table with candlelight. She’s nervous and talking about the different types of dogs she wants when she gets her new house. I notice she’s a total lightweight because after her second glass of wine, she accidentally snorts when she laughs. Her cheeks flush an adorable pink.

By the time dinner is over and we’ve shoved the dishes in the dishwasher, I’m one step away from turning into some sort of Viking and carrying her off.

“I think it’s nice you want to watch a movie with me,” she says, pouring the last of the wine.

I give her a smile that’s pure Boy Scout and usher her into the den. She sits at the furthest corner of the couch because that’s going to keep her safe from me.

“Princess Bride, Avatar, The Notebook, porn?”

She frowns at me. Before she’d told me about her first and only time, I might have made a shitty comment like,
could we download something with her in it
? Her frown was her preparation for what I might say, but I know better now.

I don’t want to insult her anymore. Not at all. In fact, the wounded look that flashed in her eyes has me wishing I could take back that last word,
porn
.

“All these movies are kid movies because I haven’t lived here in years.”

“I haven’t seen Princess Bride or Avatar,” she says. “You pick.”

Being a complete gentleman, I pop in Princess Bride and sit down on the sofa. I don’t maul her like I’d like, but I pull her feet onto my lap. The foot rub I give her for most of the movie earns me a lot of oohs and moans, along with a lot of sexual frustration.

The movie ends before nine and she hurries away, claiming she needs to get up early and run errands. Deprived of her company, I try to read the paper. This girl is going to make me crazy and she’s not even trying.

Olivia

The next morning, I run past the dealership to get my car’s oil changed and chat with the owner. Three months ago, he and my roommate Ashley got married and they’re already expecting. Danny’s a wonderful man and all about spoiling Ashley.

I never thought I’d see the day when Ashley would find such a great guy. She used to be a loser-magnet. Last year, she was seeing the old manager of The Cabaret, Trey. One day, I walked into our apartment and found him sitting on her chest, choking her. I grabbed the nearest thing, which, I’m sorry to say, was a baseball bat. I’m not a huge fan of sports, but something about seeing your friend gasping for breath and turning blue while she’s being strangled, well, it turns a girl into an MVP.

I didn’t hurt him nearly as badly as I could have. I just swung as hard as I could a few times, but the story has made the rounds and resulted in a sort of hero status in some people’s eyes. Especially Danny. He sold me my little Volkswagen bug for five grand under the list price and won’t let me pay for any tune-ups or oil changes.

Danny and I are talking about Ashley’s pregnancy as the mechanic brings my car to the front of the dealership. The guy hands me my keys.

“Where’s the bill?” I ask Danny, but he just grins and shrugs.

“I can’t keep free-loading, Danny,” I say, as I hand him my credit card.

He waves it off. “I want to hear about what’s happening with the sale of the club. Ashley said the deal is done.”

“It is. Three billion.”

His eyes widen and I feel the blood drain from my face. Numbers, words, so many things get jumbled in my mind and either I think one thing and say another or, even worse, I go completely blank.

He smiles. “If that’s the case, you’re taking me and Ash to Paris.”

I rub my forehead. “I am so stupid.”

“Don’t say that. I knew what you meant. It just took me a second.”

Danny knows all about how wires get crossed in my brain. One night, I was having dinner with him and Ashley and I told him all about how my brain doesn’t always work. How I got held back in second grade and how teachers wanted to hold me back every year for the next five years. I’ve only told a few people how I mess up things. Ashley knew because we’d taken GED classes together.

He gives me a sheepish grin and a playful nudge on the shoulder. “Frickin’ billionaire,” he grumbles.

I let out a pained sigh. “So three
million
, not three
billion,
but I’m keeping five percent ownership. Like a silent partnership sort of deal. They couldn’t believe it. I guess they thought I’d snap up whatever they put in front of me.”

He gives an approving smile. “That’s a good idea, keeping a percentage. Pretty smart.”

“They’re going to be killing it next year when the golf course opens. I don’t want to leave money on the table.”

He smiles and the skin around his eyes crinkles. “Something tells me you won’t.”

“I have so much riding on this, it’s not funny. My grandparents emptied their savings to help me buy the club. I only found that out after, but I need to pay them back. I have images of them living under a bridge because I couldn’t close the deal.”

Danny grins. “You’re going to do great, kid. Going to show us how it’s done.”

I shake my head. “Fingers crossed. I have a ten o’clock hair appointment and then I’m shopping for a power suit. Gotta keep moving.”

He gives me a quick hug good-bye and a moment later I’m flying down the highway with the top down. The first few months after we opened, I wasn’t sure the club was going to make it. I thought I’d have to confess to my grandparents that their retirement funds might be gone. The club brought in a lot of money but we had so many bills. The back offices needed to be rewired. The security system was a dud and I had to sign an expensive contract with a new company. Two of my dancers had a feud going… it got so bad, I fired them both.

The club changed a lot after I took over. I treated the people who worked for me with as much respect at I did my customers, so I didn’t have a lot of turnover. The talent we attracted was the prettiest girls in town.

Another thing that I changed was the name. I changed it from
The Cabaret
, which was musty and old-fashioned, to
Strut
, which was edgy and unapologetic. The name change caused some buzz and a few weeks later, I had investors show up with an offer, not the current offer, but an offer. I huff a sigh that’s part relief and part overwhelmed. I just need to close. That’s all.

Last night after the movie, I got myself an apple from the kitchen and when I headed upstairs to go to bed, he was sprawled on the couch, reading the paper. He wore a pair of reading glasses. The sight of him all rumpled and sexy and reading the New York Times made me stumble over my own feet. I almost did a faceplant right there in the den. He snorted. Asked me if I was light-headed again and did I want to be carried to bed.

I’ve known him for a matter of
days
and I’ve had three x-rated dreams about him.

I don’t know why. He’s not my type. I don’t like arrogant men, the type that think everyone around them should do their bidding just because they were born into a wealthy family. My father was that way, or that’s how I imagine. When he found out my mother was pregnant, he paid her to go away. He abandoned her, four months pregnant, and went back to his wife.

My phone rings as I park my car at the salon. The image that flashes steals my breath. It’s a shot of a man’s chest, glistening with sweat or maybe from a shower but it sends a wicked jolt of lust down my spine. Luke, that dick, got a hold of my phone and took a picture of himself. The name “dick” is even added as if I would mistake him for someone else.

“You
are
a dick,” I say, skipping preliminaries.

“You took long enough to answer. Were you ogling my chest? You seem to have a little trouble keeping eye-contact when I’m shirtless.”

I shake my head trying to summon some outrage. He’s right though. His chest looks like it’s been sculpted from marble, and his voice is sleep-roughened, sexy as hell. I imagine him lying in his bed, the bed he put me in when I fainted. I imagine him half-covered with a sheet and I’m going to have that image in my head all day.

I can’t help but smile. “What can I do for you?” I make my voice soft. “Are you missing me?”

A deep rumble of laughter makes me close my eyes and lean my head against the headrest.

“I am. In fact, I was going to see if you wanted pancakes for breakfast but you were already gone. Your room was empty.”

Pancakes…my stomach rumbles and a small moan escapes my lips.

“I had breakfast already.”

“What? Like half a stalk of celery?”

I wish. I’d hurried out of the house this morning and grabbed a coffee at a gas station. So it wasn’t even a good coffee, and it was black, and I followed it with some mints. Even celery would be an improvement over stale coffee and Altoids. My empty stomach complains again.

He goes on. “I want to talk to you about the nightie I found on your bed. Do you wear stuff like that every night?”

“You should stay out of my room but, yes. I do. I love the feel of lace.”

He groans. The sound goes straight to my breasts and they tighten with arousal.

“That’s sexy as fuck, Olivia. You’re all conservative and cool on the outside and underneath you’re wearing that stuff?”

No one would ever accuse me of being a tease, but the idea that I’m tormenting
this
man pleases me.

“I took that nightie from your room. You’ll have to come to my room and ask for it back.”

“I’m not having this conversation with you, Luke. I have to get my hair done so I look decent for the closing.”

“Mm…I see that you are at a salon right now.”

A shiver of heated awareness rushes through me. Luke’s watching out for me. Usually it’s me in the driver’s seat making things happen. I run interference for my dancers, protect them from assholes, help my bouncers get bail for their kid brothers. Always something. But now, Luke is watching out for me, and I like it.

Luke. Something about the deep rumble of his voice makes me imagine that if I fall again, he’ll catch me.

“I’m late for my appointment. Goodbye Luke.”