Delicious (10 page)

mock service night, so they‟d be open only to people Alyssa had invited,

who had agreed to provide feedback.

She excused herself a moment later to confer with the waitstaff

gathered in the dining room. As the smells of the kitchen wafted around

Luc, and he looked around at the smart, proficient team of chefs Alyssa

had assembled—without his help—he was impressed all over again. She

was a damn smart woman.

And admiring her was only going to screw with his head more.

Already, he wanted her so badly he could barely concentrate. Liking more

than her body would only be a double dose of stupid. But he feared it was

already too late. What would happen after her evening at the club, when

they went to her little house—and they were alone?

MEETINGS concluded, Alyssa climbed into the SUV beside Luc in

Bonheur‟s parking lot. The heavy silence between them jangled her nerves.

He‟d definitely put off the vibe that he didn‟t want to continue what Misa had

interrupted. But his erection had risen again the minute they were alone,

unmistakable and unflagging.

She tapped her toe, thinking. Everything inside her wanted to throw

her arms around him and entice him again. The other half . . . Well, the offputting vibe was strong, and she wasn‟t dumb. He was close to the

breaking point. After she got him into bed, she hoped he‟d relax and

conversation would follow. Until then, all she could do was continue to

tease him and deny her own needs.

She reached out, touched his shoulder. “The meetings went well. The

staff seems very excited. Thank you for staying this week.”

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Luc jolted at her touch, then relaxed. “I needed to live up to our

bargain. You had every right to call me on it.”

“Actually, I‟m sorry about that. I feel strongly about not forcing people

to be where they don‟t want to.” The truth, but it made her wince. Pray to

God he didn‟t ask her why. “If I hadn‟t advertised the fact you‟d be here

opening week and had so much of my savings into the place, I would have

let you walk.”

He turned to her with a puzzled scowl. “After the way I—After that

night, I don‟t deserve your compassion. I know I was hard on you.”

“Luc, I‟m not a hothouse flower.”

“No,” he agreed immediately. “You‟re far stronger than I suspected.

But that doesn‟t erase the fact I wasn‟t gentle with you. I‟m not proud of that

night. I‟m . . . sorry.”

“I liked it. I‟m not sorry at all.” Her words came out in a passionate

rush. “Don‟t you dare be sorry, either.”

He didn‟t comment. Instead, he seemed to mull her answer over.

“What if Deke had stayed that night? Would you have regretted that?”

Where was that question coming from? Luc was fishing for something.

How much should she reveal?

Finally, she shook her head. “I still would have been with you.”

Luc‟s jaw dropped. Then he closed his mouth, shaking his head as he

sped down the road. “You barely knew me. We‟d met . . . what, twice

before that night?”

Three times, actually. But the first time, she‟d been working—taking off

her clothes. They hadn‟t been formally introduced. The other times had

been casual gatherings. “I suspected right away we‟d be good together. I

was right.”

Pasting on a smile, Alyssa turned away. Hopefully, Luc wouldn‟t dig

any further into that topic. She‟d have to keep playing it casual. He wasn‟t

ready to hear that he‟d rocked her to her core the night they‟d spent

together, that she‟d loved his toe-curlingly intimate conversation.

No woman has ever given me such pleasure. I could drown in you

forever. Touch me, sugar. Yeeessss . . .

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As they approached the club, Alyssa filed the memory away. In

silence, Luc stopped the car and shoved it into park. She reached for the

door handle, and he grabbed her wrist, staying her.

“We‟re good together sexually, God knows. But that‟s it.”

A dozen comebacks ran through her head, most on the theme that he

couldn‟t truly know his statement to be fact because they hadn‟t tried

anything beyond sex. But contradicting him would only make him more

resistant. And that was counterproductive. She had to keep playing her

trump card.

“I never said I was talking about anything but sex.”

Before he could respond, she jerked from his grasp and exited the

SUV. She burst into the club through the back door, Luc at her heels.

“Why do I get the feeling you‟re not being completely honest?”

Refusing to allow herself to be rattled, she kept walking. “I can‟t

answer that. Nor do I have time to try. I have a business to run. If you‟d like

to go back to the house, I‟ll have Tyler give me a ride home when the club

is closed.”

Just then, her bouncer approached, wearing two days‟ growth of

beard, a khaki shirt with Bettie Page in a bikini and fishnet stockings, and a

mischievous smile. He stepped up beside her, slung his arm around her

waist, hand caressing her hip. Then he buried his face in her neck and

inhaled.

“Mmm. I‟ll be more than happy to give you a ride, baby.”

Alyssa raised a brow at Tyler. But this shit was par for his course.

Luc gritted his teeth. “I‟ll wait for you and take you home.”

Since showing annoyance at Tyler‟s display would not deter him, she

simply smiled. “Great. I need to make sure everyone‟s got the right

costumes and props. Last night was a mess. Thank God most everyone

was too drunk to notice.”

Tyler wrapped his arm around her again. “Wait. I came back here to

tell you that your least favorite asshole is outside with his friends.”

“Primpton? Awwww . . .” She sighed. “What does he want now?

Obviously attention. What‟s his cause du jour?”

“The usual. Shutting you down in the name of morality.”

“This is the city councilman?” Luc asked. “He protests your business?”

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“With revolting regularity.” She leaned against the wall and shut her

eyes. As if she didn‟t have enough to worry about. The restaurant‟s mock

service was tomorrow. Luc was surprisingly edgy. She had to be at the top

of her game to get his attention. What she didn‟t need today was Primpton

giving her shit.

“What do you want to do, baby?” Tyler asked softly.

He knew this crap bothered her. He‟d caught her alone and crying

once after Primpton had publicly called her some really ugly names.

“Ignore him and hope he‟ll go away or risk him swaying the public to

boycott Bonheur?”

“That‟s the big question.” Tyler smiled grimly.

“What exactly does he do?” Luc asked.

“He‟s just an ass.” The last thing she wanted was for Luc to see an

elected official calling her a whore. It would cement that as truth in his

mind.

“It‟s worse today,” Tyler admitted grimly. “He brought the local press

with him.”

Damn it!
Fate had it in for her. “He‟s trying to scare people away from

the restaurant‟s opening.”

“That would be my guess.”

“He hasn‟t had any luck in shutting down the club yet,” Luc pointed out.

“Maybe no one is listening to him.”

“He‟s got his followers, and he‟s gaining power. Every time Primpton

stages one of these protests, it hits me in the bank account. The married,

over-thirty crowd is one of the most lucrative, and I‟m guessing that men

who‟ve gotten an earful from their wives stay away, at least for a while. I

recover eventually, but I worry the restaurant could be different. I‟d been

hoping for crossover business, but now . . .”

“You mean from men who might take their wives to Bonheur, hoping to

see you?”

Luc caught on quick.

“Me or some of the other girls. Several of the dancers have elected to

give up the stage and wait tables.”

“Isn‟t that a pay cut?”

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“Absolutely. But some of them are smart enough to know they can‟t

dance around a pole for the rest of their lives, so they‟re waiting tables to

make ends meet and going to school during their off-hours.” She shrugged.

“It‟s tough, but doable. If I did it, anyone can.”

Surprise crossed Luc‟s face. “You went to college while . . . dancing?”

God, did he think she had no other aspiration than to take off her

clothes? She lifted her chin. “Double major. Business admin and

communications. Last year, I finished an MBA. I‟m not just a pole dancer,

Mr. Traverson; I‟m a business owner. It behooves me to know what the hell

I‟m doing. Now, I‟m off to discourage Primpton.”

Alyssa turned toward the stairs, bristling. She shouldn‟t be surprised

that Luc didn‟t see beyond her sexy façade. The first time they‟d met, she‟d

been wearing a G-string and pasties. She‟d had little opportunity to improve

her image with him since.

“Isn‟t the city councilman outside?” Luc looked confused.

“Yes, but do you think I‟m going to meet the man vilifying me in a mini

and garters?”

LUC watched Alyssa, fixated, the front of his jeans expanding, as she

disappeared to the private upper level of Sexy Sirens. His head was

spinning.

A double major?
And
a master‟s degree? To say he‟d had no idea

would be a colossal understatement. He‟d suspected that behind the

woman‟s sharp blue eyes was a lot of intelligence. The ambition surprised

him. Business owner or not, that was a lot of education for a stripper.

But now she was also a restaurant owner.

Was Bonheur part of some life change/self-improvement plan? And

what about her waitstaff?

Though it chafed him, Luc turned to Tyler. The bouncer stared at the

empty stairs, his tongue virtually hanging out of his mouth. Luc knew the

bouncer wanted her. Hell, despite Alyssa‟s protests, he wouldn‟t be

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surprised if they were lovers. But Tyler‟s expression said he admired

Alyssa, had feelings for her. Was it mutual?

A sudden pang of jealousy smacked Luc right between his pectorals.

He fisted his hands. Could she actually love the mouthy slab of beef?

It didn‟t matter. He had questions . . . and Tyler had answers. Whether

Tyler and Alyssa were burning up the sheets or having an affair of the heart

was none of his concern—even if it bugged the hell out of him.

“Where did Alyssa go to school?”

“Why the fuck do you care?”

Luc shrugged, playing casual. “Curious.”

“LSU, Lafayette campus. She graduated with honors, too. She‟s smart

in a way that‟s so fucking sexy. It‟s hard not to think with your dick when

she‟s around.” Tyler pierced him with a laser stare. “Isn‟t that right?”

All too true . . . “And the waitstaff at Bonheur? Are they all in school

and elected to wait tables?”

“Most. Every few months, Alyssa gathers the girls to talk about life

after the pole. If they want to get an education, she helps them find tuition

assistance and apply for scholarships. She encourages them to make more

of themselves. A couple of the girls just want to keep better hours so they

have more time with their kids.”

Wow
. He hadn‟t seen the caring side of Alyssa. This news surely

brought her into a whole new dimension. “Couldn‟t these women make

more money stripping and . . . taking customers on the side?”

“Turning tricks?” Tyler raised a brow. “You‟re damn lucky Alyssa didn‟t