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Kyra winked. “Then it's a good thing they aren't here.”

Okay, time to backtrack and laugh all this off. “I'm sure I'm misunderstanding you, but—”

“You aren't.”

So much for laughing. Hell, Bast could barely breathe and his pants were strangling his dick. “This can't happen, Kyra. Nothing can happen between us.”

“I notice none of your excuses for us remaining apart center on attraction.”

“What does that even mean?” But he knew.

“Are you attracted to me?”

“I'm not blind.” A complete fucking dumbass on the verge of doing something epically stupid, but not blind.

“Then we don't have a problem.” Her smile promised sex.

The sudden thumping in his dick suggested his lower half was totally on board with the idea. “Right, we have many problems. There's club policy, my personal code, the fury of everyone we know and the possibility of my impending death at your brother's hands.” He ticked off the list of cons, then searched his brain for more reasons to add.

“Go back.” Her eyes narrowed. “Personal code?”

Bast noticed the biggest “con” of all headed straight for the table at what felt like a hundred miles an hour. Thinking about Wade had conjured him up. In what looked like two steps, Wade was at the table, right at his sister's side.

He angled his shoulders so he stood just slightly in front of Kyra. “Is there a problem over here?”

Kyra jumped in without skipping a beat. “Mr. Jameson didn't know I was working here.”

Yeah about that
. “You okay with the arrangement?” Bast asked Wade.

“With douchebags staring at my baby sister's chest? No.” Wade kept his focus on Bast as he said it. He didn't look around or point to some of the more troublesome members.

Subtle
. “Okay then.”

Kyra waved the warning off. “Wade doesn't mean you.”

With that Kyra proved she wasn't picking up on the cues. That was fine because Bast surely was.

Wade shrugged. “I didn't actually exclude him.”

With a hand on his arm, Kyra motioned toward the other side of the room. “Wade, I believe you're wanted at the bar.”

Silence vibrated around the three of them. Wade finally shifted and broke the standoff. “Okay, but move this along.”

She nodded. “Sure.”

A few more beats of silence passed before Wade nodded and turned away. He stopped to talk to Kyra. “There are other customers and I'm sure Bast has work to do.”

Bast watched the other man leave and knew messing with this guy's sister would result in a trip to the emergency room. Yesterday, hell a half hour ago, Bast would have said no thanks to the risk. But Kyra stood there, being cryptic, but not really, and Bast's good intentions imploded.

“Do you?” she asked.

He had no idea what the question was, so he went with the one running in his head. “Want to die? No.”

“You haven't told me what I can do for you this evening.”

She had to know what she was doing to him. About how hard his dick was and how he couldn't stand up any time soon. “This isn't—”

“Right now I'm talking about the club, Mr. Jameson. Drinks, dinner, a private room. Some gambling. What do you need?”

The sexy smile and the way it lit up her face did him in. “Heart medicine.”

“I'll order your regular meal.” But she didn't leave. “But we still have the other issue to handle. The private one.”

“Okay,” he said because despite making a living at talking, he had no idea what else to say.

Her palm flattened against the table as she leaned in. Just for a second, but it was a definite lean combined with a deadly sexy voice. “Consider this my move.”

She couldn't mean . . . “What?”

“Now you know what I am willing to do to see more of you. I tracked you down, took this job and stated my case. And I am happy to do whatever you want within certain rules.”

He tried to say something but only a strangled sound came out.

She straightened. “The rest is up to you. You get to show me what, if anything, you plan to do to see more of me.”

“I don't think—”

“Yes, Sebastian. Stop thinking.” Then she was off, those sexy hips swishing as she went.

Kyra didn't know how she got through the rest of her shift after making her big play. Leaving Bast's table, her legs shook and her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Not that he even noticed the effect he had on her body. After their initial skirmish, he sat and ate and read paperwork for hours, hanging around until Jarrett came on the floor and joined him for a drink.

When Bast finally left the club, the trapped air rushed out of her lungs. Everything about him caused her insides to tighten and her mind to spin. She'd planned the moment—the confrontation—for weeks. Taking a job to chase after a man was not her usual style, but then no man had ever played duck-and-run with her quite like this one. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get him out of her head.

While walking up to the table and laying out her case, she could see him mentally draft a list of reasons why he needed to maintain a hands-off policy. He'd been doing that for a year, walking out of a room when she walked in, his gaze lingering just long enough to give her hope. But the panic in his eyes tonight, complete with that sexy low voice, convinced her to move in now instead of waiting for him to get a clue.

She might be young in his eyes but she knew what she wanted, and for more than six months the “what” was Sebastian Jameson.

He'd certainly kept her mind off the rest of the crowd at work all night. Evading the guy whose entire smooth-talking repertoire consisted of smarmy winks and wandering hands got old fast once Bast walked out. At one point the guy promised her a job where she could be on her back most of the day. She somehow saved the eye rolling for her trips to the kitchen, but just barely.

Thinking about the lame line and the way she pretended not to hear it—both times the douche said it—had her smiling as she walked out of the club and headed for the small employee parking lot next door. A shadow fell in front of her right as she cleared the brick wall and turned the corner. Tension pounded her but quickly evaporated. She'd know that scent anywhere. Something smoky with a touch of citrus.

Bast frowned down at her. “What are you doing?”

At six-one, he managed to tower over her. Her spiky high heels brought her close to his height but she'd exchanged them and her stockings for flats and now the five-inch difference had her backbone straightening. So did his attitude. “Walking.”

“Wade lets you dance around out here at night without an escort?”

That seemed like a little much. “Dance?”

“Fill in whatever word you want then answer the question.”

Never mind that she stood inside a high-walled fence and locked well-lit pathway that ran directly from the side of the club to employee parking, or that even now Becca watched over them from her office and the bank of monitors she installed to ensure the staff's safety. “I'm a grown woman, Bast. I tried to explain that to you earlier.”

“When you made your offer.”

Despite the late hour, or early hour to be technically correct, car horns honked and tires screeched in the distance as DC nightlife roared with life only a few streets away. But all of the noise and mumbling faded as she stared into those intelligent green eyes. The Ivy League buttoned-up type never did it for her before Bast. With him, the clean-cut, wire-rimmed-glasses look had her wanting to strip his tie off and drill down to the naughty center underneath.

His light brown hair, all trim and perfect, begged for her fingers. And if the rumors around town were to be believed, this man knew his way around a woman and what to do to get one naked. Man, she hoped that part was true.

Not that she only wanted a turn in his bed, a quick in and out. No, when she looked at Bast the longing kicked in until her breath stammered in her chest. He made her wish she were someone else, someone like him with his stable upbringing and fancy job. Since all the degrees and polish in the world couldn't clean up her past, she'd settle for making a move and taking what she could get.

But first they had to scale whatever defensive walls he planned to throw up between them. “How did you slip inside the gate?”

Bast waved the comment off. “Jarrett gave me the code.”

Not a surprise. They were as close as brothers and Bast practically spent every evening at the club. The idea of him enjoying some member benefits others didn't wasn't a surprise.

Still . . . “That really doesn't explain your presence right now. At the club. On the property.” Waiting for her long after he slipped out of the building.

In the universe of good signs, she figured this had to be one, but bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. Bast stood there, all commanding and sure, but she sensed inside he ran scared. She recognized twitchy panic when she saw it and he had a heaping dose of it.

“I'm parked at the far end,” he said.

She had no idea how that was relevant to anything, so she circled back to her point. “You left the club more than an hour ago but you didn't actually leave the parking lot.”

“I wanted to talk with you.”

Fighting for calm and ignoring her jumping pulse, she leaned back until her shoulders hit the brick wall. Much more of this and she'd chew through her cheek.

Thinking this might take some time, she dropped her gym bag on the ground. “About?”

His frown moved into full-on scowl territory. “Are you kidding?”

But he moved in closer. One palm smacked against the wall by her head and his face hovered just inches from hers.

They were so close, with the darkness curling around them and his body cast in shadows from the security lights, but she could see that face. Make out every expression. She wanted to wrap her fingers in that crisp white shirt and pull him in and against her, but she waited. Knowing him, the commonsense lawyer side of him could take over at any time and mess this forward progress up.

She balled her hands into fists by her sides . . . and waited. “If this is the point where you mention my age and talk about my brother and how afraid you are of him—”

“Okay, that's enough of that. I am not afraid.”

“—then let me stop you.” She rushed on, pretending she hadn't stomped all over Bast's ego by accident. “Wade is not out here and I assure you I am of legal age.”

“I know.”

Well now . . .
She dropped her head down. “For anything.”

The words whispered across his cheek and he visibly swallowed. Even in the darkness the bobble of his Adam's apple stuck out. “I've done the calculations.”

This guy had a thing for math. “Interesting.”

“I'm not sure that's how I view the eleven-year difference.”

She almost wished he couldn't add. “I make my own decisions. I go after what I want. What I want right now is you.”

“For?”

“Oh, come on.” She treated him to a “don't be an idiot” eye roll to keep from saying the words. “Now who's kidding?”

His second hand slapped against the wall, trapping and surrounding her. “Everything about this is wrong.”

There, in the cocoon of his body, with his suit jacket hanging open and the heat pounding off his body into hers, everything felt pretty damn right to her. “I disagree.”

“Are you looking for a threesome? Is that what this is about, you trying something new? Wanting some big thrill with the guy who has a reputation for liking sex with more than one woman at a time?”

The words crashed over her in an icy wave, washing away every sexy thought and replacing them with fury. “No.”

“Maybe you want to try some toys or new positions. We could set up a camera . . .”

This time she did touch him. She put both hands against his chest and shoved. “What is wrong with you?”

He didn't move. “Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. People like to gossip about how dirty I am in the sack. Women volunteer to join me just to get a taste. I'm guessing that's what this is. You want your turn.”

“You're jumping to conclusions.”

“Do you blame me? That was a pretty heavy pass and you've never shown any interest before.”

The man was clueless and right on the border of being an ass. “Clearly you haven't been paying attention.”

If he heard her, he didn't let it show. His words tripped over each other as he talked right past her. “I can only guess you want a wild ride and are looking to me to get you there. Strip you naked, maybe call in a friend to make the night extra special. That's the expectation, right?”

Something in his voice broke through her flashing anger. His eyes had turned as dark as his mood, but a note lingered. An emotion tripping around the edges that sounded oddly like pain.

The realization sucked the anger, and some of the life, right out of her. “You're not even close.”

“You have to know about my past.”

It took three swallows for her to kick out a word. “Yes.”

One of her hands dropped to her side and the other trailed down his firm chest, sliding along his tie, until he caught it in his. She noticed he didn't let go. Instead, his fingers slipped through hers.

“Exactly my point.” The heat had left his voice but the husky vibration remained.

“Everyone knows. Your ex-wife wrote a book.” Kyra almost hated to point out that fact, but it sat between them, so why not deal with it.

“Two.” He trailed his thumb along the back of her hand.

Once, twice . . . all the blood left her head. “What?”

“My ex wrote a handbook on living a threesome lifestyle and then she wrote a novel where the couple happened to be in a threesome.” He held up two fingers. “Two books. One that ended nasty and rough.”

Kyra could barely hear him over the thumping of her heartbeat echoing in her brain. “Right.”

“The latter is fiction. Most people miss that small but very important fact.”

“The husband in the novel is a dick.” Kyra regretted the comment as soon as it was out.

“That is the general consensus, yes,” Bast said as he lifted their joined hands.

She knew from Jarrett this qualified as a sore subject for Bast, and the last five minutes highlighted that point. Jarrett insisted Bast treated his ex well and she crapped all over him, though the language Jarrett used was much more colorful.

Her fingertips brushed along Bast's chin. “The man described in the novel isn't you.”

Somehow she got the comment out. Through the rush in her ears and the thundering in her chest, she found the right words. That guy, the one people whispered about, the one who shoved his wife around and made sexual demands that scared her wasn't real and couldn't be Bast.

Kyra didn't trust many people, but for some reason she trusted Bast to be decent. Maybe it stemmed from his friendship with Jarrett and Wade, or how he acted in the club. She didn't analyze her certainty. She just knew she wanted to show him not all women operated like his ex.

“Lena makes it clear in the acknowledgments the book is fiction and not a memoir, but I'm thinking readers skip those, at least that's what my emails and disappointed calls from my father suggest.”

Father, yeah, there was a subject sure to suck any sexuality out of the moment. And that is not what Kyra had planned for the next few minutes.

Despite the detour, she needed to stop and make Bast understand one simple thing. “I didn't.”

His eyes narrowed. “What?”

“Skip the acknowledgments.”

His expression went blank. All emotion wiped clean and he stared at her with flat lips and dull eyes. “So, you really did read the whole book?”

There was no use dodging now, and she was determined they would be honest with each other, no matter how much moments like these hurt. “Yes.”

“Right.” He pushed off from the wall and stepped back. Two feet of warm summer heat pulsed between them. “Everyone else in town did, so why not you.”

The shuttered expression, the emotional distance, dropping her hand. He was shutting down and she didn't know how to get them back to where they were a minute ago. “I know the difference between fact and fiction.”

He shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “Did you read the handbook, too?”

“No.” And that was the truth. She had zero interest in reading a manual about his sex life with his ex. About his sex life with anyone but her. “I assume that part, whatever is in the handbook, is real.”

He shrugged. “In a sense.”

She had no idea what that meant. “Then I was right not to read it.”

He stopped putting more space between them. At her comment, he shifted, moving in closer as he leaned. “I'm not following you.”

“I wanted to get to know you and not the version of who you were when you were married.” Despite what he thought, she wasn't looking for a good time or to reenact one of the more descriptive chapters. She wanted him, with her, alone and uncontrolled until neither of them could walk.

Voices grew louder as a group of young males headed into the cul-de-sac. With every stumbling step they took, she held her breath, sure being interrupted would be just the excuse Bast needed to run. When the guys broke into drunken laughter and a chorus of some song that sounded vaguely familiar, she stiffened and waited.

Tripping and wailing, they hit the first driveway and looked around. Then the shoving started. One after the other shouted about the “right address” but when the security light of the first building on the street popped on, the guys turned and took off.

And Bast wondered why she wasn't interested in guys her age.

At least the light meant crisis averted. Now she had to figure out how to keep Bast engaged. She feared losing him now could mean losing any forward momentum.

But he didn't step back. “Maybe the guy in the marriage and the guy in the novel are the same guy.”

No way did she believe that. He grumbled about the rumors of his sex life, but clearly missed the ones about him getting sick of a life he never wanted and getting out of the marriage rather than continuing with the fun. Kyra held on to those and hoped those strayed closer to the truth.