resting, maybe passed out.
Nothing about this said "learning how to catch a man" to her. On the other hand, what did she know about it? Next to nothing, that's what.
After the meeting, she'd spent the rest of the day working on her new line of products for the European market. Other than pulling her hair back into a quick ponytail, she hadn't had time to change. In her vintage Christian Dior blouse and navy skirt she stuck out almost as much as the limo did.
A shiver ran up her back. Stop being silly , she told herself. There was nothing to worry about. She was in Brooklyn, for goodness sake. This close to Flushing, how bad could it be? Her fears were just a reaction to learning something new. Part of the process. New school jitters.
Ryan had been right before and he was probably right about this, too. She had to trust him.
She checked the text from him, again, and then eyed the beat-up building. She had the correct address, but no explanation as to why she was supposed to meet him here. Her tension coiled tighter. She really didn't feel comfortable here.
Trust only went so far. CK turned to get back in the limo.
Headlights flashed behind her and then washed over the Jag. A car purred up to the curb across the street and glided to a stop. A burgundy Porsche. Ryan's car.
He stepped out, a cocky grin on his face and a Wa Jeal take-out bag in his hand. Tousled and charming in jeans and a Rolling Stones T-shirt, he shut the car door, beeped it locked, and then jogged across the street to her. He looked quite pleased with himself.
CK narrowed her eyes at him, annoyance kicking away her worry. "Why are we here?"
"Observation." He tapped on the passenger window at the front of the limo. The glass slid down and Ryan leaned over and handed in the bag of Chinese food. "Keep an eye on the Porsche, would you Tim?"
"Sure thing, Mr. Anderson," her driver said, cheerfully.
Ryan turned and headed for the bar. CK grabbed his arm and glanced warily up and down the street. "And we're here, why, exactly?"
"A lot of lonely men come here. These women are experienced. You'll learn a lot from watching how they work."
Her eyes widened with understanding. "You brought me here to learn from hookers?"
"Not hookers, hostesses. And you put me in charge, remember?"
"But..."
"You can call it quits, any time."
And lose Kazners? Her back stiffened. He was right. She couldn't let her fears of the unknown get the better of her. If Ryan thought she could learn something here, then she would give it her best shot.
Lifting her chin, she marched past him and pushed open the door.
The stink of stale beer, sweat and desperation burned her nose and washed down her throat. CK coughed and several pairs of eyes turned to study her through the smoky gloom.
Nervousness rose into her throat and she thought about her nice, safe limo waiting outside to take her home. This late in the middle of the week, that's where she should be. Home.
Ryan stepped up beside her, his energy radiating across her back in a strangely comforting way. "Stick close."
"This is not what I had in mind," she said under her breath, her gaze jumping from one scary person to the next. The low-ceilinged bar wasn't exactly packed, but crowded enough to tell her the owner did a fairly brisk business—of some kind.
"If you want to learn to hunt, don't be squeamish about the territory." he whispered back.
"I didn't say I was afraid." She wiped her sweaty palms on her thighs. "I'm saying my sights are a little higher than this." She eyed a scraggly guy slumped over a glass of whisky. "A lot higher."
"Don't be a snob." Ryan nodded toward a booth in the back corner "Go sit down. I'll get us something to drink."
A bald guy sitting on a stool at the end of the bar glanced at Ryan, and then shifted his attention to CK. His predatory gaze moved over her body, the dragon tattoo covering his scalp shifting in the dim light like a living shadow.
Her stomach knotted
Nothing about this said "learning how to catch a man" to her. On the other hand, what did she know about it? Next to nothing, that's what.
After the meeting, she'd spent the rest of the day working on her new line of products for the European market. Other than pulling her hair back into a quick ponytail, she hadn't had time to change. In her vintage Christian Dior blouse and navy skirt she stuck out almost as much as the limo did.
A shiver ran up her back. Stop being silly , she told herself. There was nothing to worry about. She was in Brooklyn, for goodness sake. This close to Flushing, how bad could it be? Her fears were just a reaction to learning something new. Part of the process. New school jitters.
Ryan had been right before and he was probably right about this, too. She had to trust him.
She checked the text from him, again, and then eyed the beat-up building. She had the correct address, but no explanation as to why she was supposed to meet him here. Her tension coiled tighter. She really didn't feel comfortable here.
Trust only went so far. CK turned to get back in the limo.
Headlights flashed behind her and then washed over the Jag. A car purred up to the curb across the street and glided to a stop. A burgundy Porsche. Ryan's car.
He stepped out, a cocky grin on his face and a Wa Jeal take-out bag in his hand. Tousled and charming in jeans and a Rolling Stones T-shirt, he shut the car door, beeped it locked, and then jogged across the street to her. He looked quite pleased with himself.
CK narrowed her eyes at him, annoyance kicking away her worry. "Why are we here?"
"Observation." He tapped on the passenger window at the front of the limo. The glass slid down and Ryan leaned over and handed in the bag of Chinese food. "Keep an eye on the Porsche, would you Tim?"
"Sure thing, Mr. Anderson," her driver said, cheerfully.
Ryan turned and headed for the bar. CK grabbed his arm and glanced warily up and down the street. "And we're here, why, exactly?"
"A lot of lonely men come here. These women are experienced. You'll learn a lot from watching how they work."
Her eyes widened with understanding. "You brought me here to learn from hookers?"
"Not hookers, hostesses. And you put me in charge, remember?"
"But..."
"You can call it quits, any time."
And lose Kazners? Her back stiffened. He was right. She couldn't let her fears of the unknown get the better of her. If Ryan thought she could learn something here, then she would give it her best shot.
Lifting her chin, she marched past him and pushed open the door.
The stink of stale beer, sweat and desperation burned her nose and washed down her throat. CK coughed and several pairs of eyes turned to study her through the smoky gloom.
Nervousness rose into her throat and she thought about her nice, safe limo waiting outside to take her home. This late in the middle of the week, that's where she should be. Home.
Ryan stepped up beside her, his energy radiating across her back in a strangely comforting way. "Stick close."
"This is not what I had in mind," she said under her breath, her gaze jumping from one scary person to the next. The low-ceilinged bar wasn't exactly packed, but crowded enough to tell her the owner did a fairly brisk business—of some kind.
"If you want to learn to hunt, don't be squeamish about the territory." he whispered back.
"I didn't say I was afraid." She wiped her sweaty palms on her thighs. "I'm saying my sights are a little higher than this." She eyed a scraggly guy slumped over a glass of whisky. "A lot higher."
"Don't be a snob." Ryan nodded toward a booth in the back corner "Go sit down. I'll get us something to drink."
A bald guy sitting on a stool at the end of the bar glanced at Ryan, and then shifted his attention to CK. His predatory gaze moved over her body, the dragon tattoo covering his scalp shifting in the dim light like a living shadow.
Her stomach knotted
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