reappeared.
“Alright little dudes, stay fuzzy. I’ll catch you later.” Wyatt waved goodbye to the dogs, shut the door behind him, and walked to the bank of elevators that would take him down to the club.
Time for work. The smile he’d shown the dogs slowly faded from his face, his jaw hardened, and every aspect of his bearing shifted.
Once a SEAL, always a SEAL.
Tonight, he had a job to do.
* * *
J inx walked the perimeter of the club, surveying her domain one last time before the crowds really started streaming in. The club was already writhing with activity. In another hour it would be standing room only—it always was on performance nights.
The performance she’d be presenting tonight, a sexy bondage demonstration with a local fetish model, was sure to draw very large crowds. Wyatt didn’t know about it. She should have told him over dinner, prepared him for the security complication that such an event might create for him tonight. But she hadn’t been ready to face him yet, couldn’t sit across from him at her kitchen counter and serve him spaghetti like they were…. Well it was just too domestic .
So instead of dinner, she’d copped out, left him a sandwich, and headed into the club early. A few hours spent away from him would give her space to calm her nerves and get her head ready for tonight’s performance. God knew she needed it. Earlier, in the bedroom, she’d nearly let him pull her onto his lap, nearly let him—
“What’s up sexy?” Wyatt’s voice rose above the pounding music and sent a shiver up her spine.
Jinx turned, her shoulders thrown back, one hand on her hip, and all the attitude she could muster directed at that cocky tone.
Shit.
He looked amazing. Biceps bulging in a tight black t-shirt. Her gaze shifted down. Everything on this man bulged actually. Jeez. She racked her brain for a pithy response.
“Do you own any shirts that are designed to fit a man of your age?”
“This?” Wyatt stepped closer, crowding her against the padded edge of the Club’s west side bar. “It’s my lucky shirt. Had it since I was eight. What? You don’t like it?”
Jinx scrunched her nose and turned her head away, pretending to watch the crowds.
“You get all sorted with the security crew?” She asked.
“Yes, I did. Thanks for asking. Great group of guys you have, actually.”
“I know it.”
“No love for Damon, and they seem alright with me taking over.”
“Well that fat bonus Jack approved helped a bit I’m sure.”
“It did, and you were smart to suggest it to him. Thank you.”
“That’s my job,” she said, glancing up at him.
“Yeah, and this is interesting, because I had to find this out from the guys and not from you, which would have been better, but apparently it’s also your job to put on live sex shows? Like say the one tonight? In about an hour?”
Jinx turned and poked a finger into his chest. “It’s not a live sex show,” she said. “Just a rope demonstration with a willing volunteer. Nobody has sex with anybody.”
Wyatt tilted his head and arched a brow.
“What?” Jinx said.
Wyatt arched both eyebrows and blinked at her, slowly.
“It’s art, you Neanderthal!” Placing her palm flat on his pecs she pushed him away from her and frowned when she saw that a massive effort on her part barely budged him an inch. “Ugh,” she groaned. “You’re like a fucking wall built of muscle and bad jokes. Jesus, get out of my way.” Jinx leaned in, threw her shoulder into it, and tried to bodily move the looming mountain of irritation out of her path. She had a fucking club to run and a fucking performance to get ready for, and she didn’t need his stupid blue squinty eyes distracting her.
They scuffled for a moment, Jinx with her weight against his, her feet slipping out from under her as she pushed. Suddenly, the mountain gave way, and Jinx went flying straight toward a cocktail waitress with a tray of drinks.
A hand caught her around the
“Alright little dudes, stay fuzzy. I’ll catch you later.” Wyatt waved goodbye to the dogs, shut the door behind him, and walked to the bank of elevators that would take him down to the club.
Time for work. The smile he’d shown the dogs slowly faded from his face, his jaw hardened, and every aspect of his bearing shifted.
Once a SEAL, always a SEAL.
Tonight, he had a job to do.
* * *
J inx walked the perimeter of the club, surveying her domain one last time before the crowds really started streaming in. The club was already writhing with activity. In another hour it would be standing room only—it always was on performance nights.
The performance she’d be presenting tonight, a sexy bondage demonstration with a local fetish model, was sure to draw very large crowds. Wyatt didn’t know about it. She should have told him over dinner, prepared him for the security complication that such an event might create for him tonight. But she hadn’t been ready to face him yet, couldn’t sit across from him at her kitchen counter and serve him spaghetti like they were…. Well it was just too domestic .
So instead of dinner, she’d copped out, left him a sandwich, and headed into the club early. A few hours spent away from him would give her space to calm her nerves and get her head ready for tonight’s performance. God knew she needed it. Earlier, in the bedroom, she’d nearly let him pull her onto his lap, nearly let him—
“What’s up sexy?” Wyatt’s voice rose above the pounding music and sent a shiver up her spine.
Jinx turned, her shoulders thrown back, one hand on her hip, and all the attitude she could muster directed at that cocky tone.
Shit.
He looked amazing. Biceps bulging in a tight black t-shirt. Her gaze shifted down. Everything on this man bulged actually. Jeez. She racked her brain for a pithy response.
“Do you own any shirts that are designed to fit a man of your age?”
“This?” Wyatt stepped closer, crowding her against the padded edge of the Club’s west side bar. “It’s my lucky shirt. Had it since I was eight. What? You don’t like it?”
Jinx scrunched her nose and turned her head away, pretending to watch the crowds.
“You get all sorted with the security crew?” She asked.
“Yes, I did. Thanks for asking. Great group of guys you have, actually.”
“I know it.”
“No love for Damon, and they seem alright with me taking over.”
“Well that fat bonus Jack approved helped a bit I’m sure.”
“It did, and you were smart to suggest it to him. Thank you.”
“That’s my job,” she said, glancing up at him.
“Yeah, and this is interesting, because I had to find this out from the guys and not from you, which would have been better, but apparently it’s also your job to put on live sex shows? Like say the one tonight? In about an hour?”
Jinx turned and poked a finger into his chest. “It’s not a live sex show,” she said. “Just a rope demonstration with a willing volunteer. Nobody has sex with anybody.”
Wyatt tilted his head and arched a brow.
“What?” Jinx said.
Wyatt arched both eyebrows and blinked at her, slowly.
“It’s art, you Neanderthal!” Placing her palm flat on his pecs she pushed him away from her and frowned when she saw that a massive effort on her part barely budged him an inch. “Ugh,” she groaned. “You’re like a fucking wall built of muscle and bad jokes. Jesus, get out of my way.” Jinx leaned in, threw her shoulder into it, and tried to bodily move the looming mountain of irritation out of her path. She had a fucking club to run and a fucking performance to get ready for, and she didn’t need his stupid blue squinty eyes distracting her.
They scuffled for a moment, Jinx with her weight against his, her feet slipping out from under her as she pushed. Suddenly, the mountain gave way, and Jinx went flying straight toward a cocktail waitress with a tray of drinks.
A hand caught her around the
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