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Behavior inside a strip club if the bouncer within it
was broken…?
Not a chance.

They were on their way back to the club—so long as
Mecenna could keep the sleek vehicle going on a forward momentum, and not stalled
at every goddamn stop sign
!

“I can’t use my right hand. How the hell would I be
able to shift gears?” he informed.

Mecenna turned her eyes to his. She looked small on
the driver’s side of a man’s car, engulfed into the plush leather seat, and she
could barely reach the clutch pedal even with heels on.

“You could easily tell me when to shift,” she
reasoned.

This, he hadn’t thought about. It could work. But she
would actually have to listen to his directions, and so far, she’d made a
mockery of anything said from his mouth all night long.

“Pull over,” he rushed past his clenched jaw.

“Pull over? Christ! I can barely get this vehicle to
stop!”

“Pull this goddamn car over, Mecenna, or I’ll…”

Her eyes widened and hardened. “Or you’ll…
what
?”

He hadn’t planned an
‘or what’
as of yet. He
already threatened firing, and look how well that turned out for him. “I will
punish you beyond your wildest imagination,” he used instead, just winging it.

Mecenna drew in a deep breath, held it, then ground
his car into third gear.

Casey knew damn well he’d paled under his tan upon
that grinding. He’d felt the paling as if branded by fire. The car slowed, but
only because the second she pushed the clutch pedal to the floor he shoved the
stick into neutral and sent her a scathing look that clearly said he fucking
dared her to put it into fourth gear.

Mecenna yanked hard on the steering wheel. The
vehicle’s front tire hit the curb and created a strange, guttural sound out of
his mouth.

“Are you fucking crazy?” he quipped. “This is a one
hundred fifty-thousand dollar, perfectly tuned, custom specific, mint
condition…Jesus! It’s a one of a kind vehicle. You do not hit the curb with a
one hundred fifty-thousand dollar tire, on a one hundred fifty-thousand dollar
car!”

“Perhaps you should have paid one hundred thirty-five
thousand less for your precious baby, and a damn tire wouldn’t matter so much
to you,” she threw at his face, her tone baited with amusement.

Casey flared his nostrils. There was not a shred of
amusement in his being. Truth be told, if murder wouldn’t lose him everything
he’d gained thus far, he would more than give it a try. Blood pressure raised,
dry mouth, he clenched and unclenched his fists.

Mecenna merely shrugged her shoulders, waiting for
more to come her way, her cheeks sucked in.

The car at a full stop with the stick in neutral, he
one-handed opened the door, slid out, walked around the front of the vehicle,
yanked open the driver’s door, indelicately pulled the woman out of the
driver’s seat directly onto the street, climbed inside, shut the door, and
waited for Mecenna to get her ass into the passenger seat.

Casey was too angry to speak.

Mecenna stood on the street with mutiny in her eyes,
her arms crossed, her mouth clamped shut, drawing out more of his fury.

“Get in the fucking car, Mecenna,” he growled out.

She openly stared off into space.

“I said…,” he threatened.

She drew in a deep breath, looked as if weighing out
her options, then walked around the front of the vehicle to get inside the car.
Once settled in her seat, with belt locked, Casey stepped on the clutch. “When
I say
now
, I want you to put it into gear.”

“And if I don’t?”

He turned his large body, so fast Mecenna lurched
toward her door. “Then we fucking stay on the side of the fucking pavement for
the rest of your fucked-up life. And right now, Sweetheart, that won’t be very
long.” He could feel the steam venting from his ears, nose, and eyes as he
looked directly at the only woman who’d ever vexed him so badly that any
contemplation of murder seemed plausible.

“Ready?” he asked, taking no more of her sass for the
night, and settling into the driver’s seat with his foot on the clutch.

Casey cracked his neck side to side, hoping to
intimidate.

Mecenna turned her gaze away.

With lightning speed, his good hand grabbed her chin
and forced her eyes back to his; his temper an all-time high as his large
fingers dug into her flesh.

“I asked you…are you ready?”

“I was born ready, you sonofabitch,” she answered, as
her uncontrollable tremors announced she’d hit that fight out of flight mode.

“Then prove it to me,” he demanded, his smile tight.

“How would you like that proof, Mr. Griffen? Me…or you
on top?” she asked, sweetly sugarcoating her sudden fury at being manhandled.

Casey ignored her baiting question. Again, he put his
left foot on the clutch, and took a deep breath. “Now.”

Mecenna shoved the stick into first gear.

“Now.”

The gears ground into second.

“Now.”

She found third, but got another glare sent her way
for the first grind of metal against metal.

“Now.”

Fourth gear had been much harder for her to locate.
She’d almost put it into reverse.

By the fifth “Now” said, they’d worked out a system.

First and second gear was rewarded with a glare. Third
and fourth came with a groan. Fifth was followed with a near growl. Neutral
gained a full string of curses making the ears hurt.
Jesus A. Christ! The
woman put his car into neutral at nearly thirty-miles per hour.

How the bloody hell…!

She must have a death wish. This was the only
plausible explanation he could make for the smile on her face.

Twenty-minutes later, he wasn’t able to speak to her
at all. But at least they’d made it back to the bar without any further
accidents or acts of murder.

Mecenna went her way. Casey went his. When the club
closed three hours later, his employee had to swallow her pride and come into
the lion’s den to ask for her paycheck.

His sight rose to her sudden entrance into his life
and another growl slipped out of his throat, unchecked.

She looked almost too afraid to move inside his office
without some sort of protection.

“What now?” he barked. Any more of this woman tonight
and he would be working his way into an early ulcer.

“My paycheck, please?”

Casey’s eyes drifted to pile of those already made
out. Hers was yet cast in stone. “Do you deserve one?” His pen was still in
hand as his eyes took a leisure roam of the woman, head to toe.

****

Sara’s brain stalled upon
No more than you deserve
a good whack side the head,
but her mouth kept these thoughts tucked safely
inside; with any hope to keep as much harm from her body as was possible.

“Yes,” she told him, her voice losing power.

“Oh, really?” Casey pushed back his chair and dragged
his sight over her body again—his insolence drew the shivers from her spine.

Sara had on her bartender’s uniform: tight black
leather mini-skirt and even tighter white tank top, no bra. If she did the
pole, it would be far less. Required outfit for the pole was thong only. This
was only to make certain the men closest to the stage didn’t get any ideas of
dropping their zippers, grabbing the dancer, then causing an uproar by slamming
his dick into the dancer.

Yet, Sara’s bartending attire was certainly
less
enough
to most.

And Casey’s dangerously blue eyes were glued to her
ample breasts.

Not immune to what that blue gaze was telling her, she
knew he was more than angry with her over something she’d not done, as was
always the case between them. Therefore, only to rehash an unending argument or
put more effort toward her being right and him wrong, her thoughts ran to
let
the games begin
.

“Yes, really,” she quibbled, with as much force as she
could muster.

“And if I say otherwise?” This was a mistake made on
his part. Only a fool tested shark-infested waters when that shark was an
incredibly pissed-off female.

“Then I say you can go to Hell, Mr. Griffen…and take
this shitty job with you. But you owe me two weeks full pay, plus four hours
overtime, thanks to your recent jaunt to an ER—and I have more than ample proof
you do owe me, so I will see you court.”

“Overtime?” he chuckled, daring her fury to rise.

“Yes. Overtime,” Sara rushed back. “Time and a half
for having driven your miserable toy to a fucking hospital dressed like this.”
She made a full, exaggerated sweep of her body with only her hand.

“My toy?”

“Yes. Your toy.”

Casey’s grin grew even more pronounced. “What would
you prefer to drive, Mecenna? Something bigger, or do you prefer it being much
harder?”

Sara regrettably felt the heat creep to her face,
causing the wrong reaction in her boss.

“Perhaps my huge dick instead? No one would ever know
if we went at it right now,” he dared add.

Her red face must have paled because she felt its loss
of color as if her cheek slapped.

She would know!
And she was the only person who mattered.

“Christ, Mecenna! It was only a joke. Here.” He held
the paycheck out to her. He’d already made it out and had put it at the bottom
of the pile.

Sara yanked her paycheck from his fingers, forcing
another smile out of him. All of a sudden, she could take no more of his
bullshit—his
in your face
arrogance was simply too deep to wade through.

“What the hell do you want from me?” she asked.

“Want?” He seemed confused by her swift change of
attitude.

“Yes. Want?”

Casey slowly rose from behind his desk, moved to the
front of it, leaned his firm ass onto it, and crossed his arms over his massive
berth.

Sara had to step back from the desk to give him ample
room.

“I don’t want a goddamn thing from you. And I have
told you this, only last night.”

Sara openly snorted, right in his face, the memory too
fresh and real. “Then why are you doing this to me now?”

A single brow arched high. “What is it that I’m doing,
Mecenna?”

Argh!

“Why do you constantly have to play this cat and mouse
game with me? You don’t do this to Lace, or with any of your other girls.” He
was toying with her and this made Sara see red.

Casey’s cocked brow and total arrogance returned.
“Would you prefer I never did it to you?”

“Of course.”

His smile increased—tenfold. “That is the biggest
fucking lie ever told out of your devilishly sweet mouth, and you know it. You
love this. You can’t get enough of this. In fact, the sudden twinkle in your
eye is from you getting your comeuppance. It’s been there for weeks, Mecenna.”

He then pushed from the desk before Sara could fully
react. A half-second later, she found his lips settled against hers, and
somehow he was kissing her into pliable submission.

At least Sara felt stuck in a submissive state. Her
legs went weak. Her heart raced. Her palms turned sweaty. Her spine had shivers
going down the length of it. No man had ever made her palms sweaty or her spine
tingle. Not even…

No. No. No!
She
couldn’t go near pain like that again. Boyd McCarlye was dead and buried to
her, same as her unborn.

Casey stepped back, severing the connection of their
bodies. “See?”

Sara shook her head, adjusting to the loss.
See
what?
She couldn’t
see
a damn thing. Her eyeballs had steamed.

He added more. “You’re covered head to toe in goose
bumps by a mere kiss.”

“So?”

“So…you can’t lie to me, Mecenna—ever. I do believe
I’ve said this before.”

It to have been smart on her part to leave the man’s
office before things got out of her control, Sara was never known for her
smarts. Her cunning nature? Sure. Her more than hot body? Of course—she’d been
told this millions of times. But her ability to see the fire through all the
smoke? Hell, no! Therefore, she was unprepared for the chuckle coming out of
him, and the complete brush off within a matter of seconds as he rounded his
desk and sat back down in his chair. He returned to making out the paychecks as
if nothing amiss.

Sara’s eyes widened as Casey physically shut off her
presence like tap water from a faucet. Her brain screamed itself hoarse from
the depths of thick fog inside her head.
Used again!
Two very damaging
words, that gave her fuel to throw on the growing fire rising between them.

“Tomorrow I work pole,” she announced abruptly, making
it sound so completely natural out of her mouth.