- -
- 100%
- +
“Besides, old money is nothing if not civil. It’s what is being said behind closed doors that really matters. Trust me. My grandmother is likely crying to everyone who’ll listen that her mother is rolling around in her grave—no—rolling around, keening in her grave at the very thought of me marrying a stripper. I love her dearly, but she does tend to be overly dramatic from time to time.” He laughed, shaking his head.
Kitty’s back stiffened. She wasn’t ashamed of her profession. It was the idea that someone thought it eliminated her from landing someone like Jaxon Landon. Just because he was the new “Prince of Wall Street” and was cloaked in money, power and respect didn’t mean that he was out of her league. It just meant that she would have to step up her game.
Jaxon noticed that Kitty’s playful smile had vanished. He lowered his gold pen and rose from his chair. Jaxon kept forgetting people—mainly women—tended to be thrown off by his bluntness. He smiled as he moved around the desk. When he placed his large hands on her small shoulders and started massaging, he could tell by her twinkling eyes that all had been forgiven. “Sorry, Kitty. But I warned you before you accepted the job not to take anything that happened personally. My family can be closed minded and cruel sometimes.”
She laughed, and then spoke before thinking. “It’s not your family you should be apologizing for.”
Jaxon’s hands stilled on her shoulders. “What do you mean?”
Kitty mentally kicked herself. “Nothing.” She gently shrugged off his hands and moved from the desk. “My check?”
Jaxon couldn’t let such a flippant comment go. “Are you saying you thought I was somehow being unreasonable?”
Kitty really didn’t want to get into it. After all, it was none of her business whatever drama went on between him and his family. Chances were that she would never see them again anyway. Plus, she didn’t want to piss off Jaxon to the point that he would stop coming to the Velvet Rope. The women that competed for his attention grew more fierce every time he showed up. As it was, she was already the envy of every dancer in the place. Mainly because she had the advantage of knowing that it took more than big breasts, a slim waist, onion booty and a pretty face to grab and hold his attention.
Jaxon was an unusual client when it came to his visits to the gentlemen’s clubs. He wasn’t there to zero in on certain body parts. No. He generally enjoyed the art. He was particularly fond of the burlesque style as opposed to straight grinding on a pole and booty poppin’ in a sequined string thong.
Smiling, Kitty leaned forward and let her expensive breasts press against his chest. “I would never suggest that you were ever unreasonable,” she assured, blowing her strawberry scented breath up at him. “You have to be the kindest, most generous man I know.” And she meant it. Jaxon Landon was known for many things: a son of a bitch when it came to business, dangerous when it came to those who crossed him and a heartbreaker when it came to women who had the misfortune of falling in love with him.
But the one thing very few people knew about him was that he genuinely had a heart of gold when it came to people he cared about. It was no accident that she was the one to land the ten-thousand-dollar job to pretend to be his fiancée for the weekend. Kitty knew that word had gotten around the club about her grandmother’s increasing medical bills.
Last week she was sobbing into her pillow, worried about where she was going to come up with an extra ten grand for her grandma’s surgery and then the next thing she knew, Jaxon was on her doorstep with a job for the exact amount of money she needed. That day she swore she could see a halo encircling the man’s head.
And now, she had just insulted him.
“Then what are you saying?” Jaxon asked, standing up straighter.
“Oh, you know,” she said, trying to stall.
Jaxon’s smile flatlined while he waited.
Cornered, Kitty licked her lips and tried to swallow the growing lump in her throat. Whenever Jaxon leveled his intense mahogany eyes on someone, it had all the potency of drinking a bottle of truth serum. “I just meant that you seemed more…tense when you’re around your grandparents,” she confessed. “Once or twice, you may have come off a little short.” She shrugged and then tried laughing. “But, hey, I’m the same way around my folks. I don’t understand them and they certainly don’t understand me.”
The office grew as silent as a tomb for two seconds. The longest two seconds of Kitty’s life. It wasn’t that she feared that Jaxon would suddenly erupt and fly off the handle. He would never do that. It wasn’t his style. It was all about his expressions and body language. A flicker of disappointment from him had the same effect as a parent scolding a child and whenever his beautiful eyes narrowed it was like a dagger piercing a heart. And if his rich baritone dipped to a rumbling bass, you knew your ass was in serious trouble.
Then out of the blue, Jaxon’s smile was back. His perfect pearly white teeth and full, luscious lips had a way of making her feel like Cupid’s bow had pierced her heart. It was crazy how easily Jaxon could turn her on. It was like flicking on a light switch. More than anything, she wished that she meant more to him than just a plaything.
“You’re right,” Jaxon admitted, chuckling. “I do tend to get…worked up around Carlton.” He pivoted and returned to his chair to finish writing her check.
“May I ask you something?” she ventured.
“Of course you can.”
“Why do you call your grandfather Carlton?”
“It’s his name, isn’t it?” He finished his signature with a flurry and then pulled the single check from its leather-bound book. “Here you go, m’dear. Ten thousand dollars. Not bad for two days of putting up with my unreasonable, short temper.” There, he got in his jab.
Just then, Jaxon’s secretary, Janine, buzzed in over the intercom. “Mr. Landon, Richard Myers is here to see you.”
What in hell could he possibly want? Jaxon rolled his eyes. “Send him in.”
Kitty reached over and accepted the check. “Thank you.” She folded it several times and then stuffed it in between her huge tits. “It’s been a pleasure. Call me again whenever you’re in need of a fiancée.” She gave him another quick smile and then headed toward the door. “So when will I see you again?”
“Just when you begin to miss me,” he teased.
“I’ll miss you as soon as I walk out of the door,” she volleyed back at him.
“Then I guess I’ll see you at the Velvet Rope tonight,” he said.
Kitty’s heart skipped a beat. “Is that a promise?”
Jaxon winked. “Absolutely.”
She turned, opened the door and nearly smacked into Richard Myers.
“Well, hello there, Kitty,” Richard greeted coolly. “I didn’t know you did house calls.”
Kitty smiled at Jaxon’s number-one rival—in everything from looks, women and business. The man took competition to a whole new level and didn’t care who knew it. Kitty didn’t mind it so much, since it meant twice the haters and two rich, gorgeous men lavishing her with money and gifts.
“Really, Richard. You should get your mind out of the gutter,” she teased playfully. “I’ll see you tonight, Jaxon,” she said, tossing him a final wink. The comment was for Richard as well as Jaxon and if her calculations were correct, she would be seeing Richard tonight at the club, too. “G’bye, you two.” She gave them a dainty wave and practically floated out of the office.
Richard stood at the door and watched Kitty’s rear view until she disappeared from the office lobby. Then he turned his sly smile toward Jaxon. “She’s quite a woman, isn’t she?”
Instead of answering, Jaxon relaxed behind his desk. “So what brings you here, Dick?”
Richard’s smile only stretched wider as he closed Jaxon’s office door and casually strolled over to the bar. “Oh, I was in the neighborhood and thought that I would come by and congratulate you on the Culberson deal. It must have been an awfully reliable bird that told you that they were in talks with Microsoft.”
Jaxon kept his face neutral while he mentally patted himself on the back for putting the pieces of a very large puzzle together on his own. “Oh, I don’t know. I’d say it was just a lucky guess.”
A smile slithered across Richard’s face while he poured himself some of Jaxon’s good brandy. “Let you tell it, you’re the luckiest sonofbitch in New York.”
“Maybe I am,” he said, holding his straight face.
A muscle twitched just below Richard’s right eye. A telltale sign of what the man was really thinking and feeling—which was also the reason Jaxon always beat the man at poker.
Some things were too easy.
“You want to know what I think?” Richard asked, taking his glass and making his way over to the empty chair in front of Jaxon’s desk.
“The better question is, ‘Do I care?’”
“I think,” Richard went on, “that you have an inside track on what’s going on.”
Jaxon glared. “That’s one helluva accusation.”
Richard’s devious smile stretched almost from ear to ear. “Come now. I’m not accusing you of anything…yet.” He sipped his drink. “Then again. It could be just like you said.” He met Jaxon’s stony gaze. “You’re lucky.”
The room thickened with a deadly tension, but the ever cool Jaxon waited out his adversary.
“Anyway, congratulations are in order.” Richard drained the rest of his brandy and got back to his feet. “We all can’t make ninety million in a day.” He purposely set his empty glass on Jaxon’s desk and headed back toward the door. “See you around, Jax.”
“Sure thing, Dick.”
Richard only chuckled as he made his grand exit.
Jaxon waited until the door slammed closed before muttering under his breath. “I really hate that asshole.”
Chapter 2
“Hell, no,” Zora said, and then proceeded to laugh in Melanie’s face. “What did you do, fall and bump your head?”
Melanie laughed, as well. “I know it may sound crazy…”
Zora cocked a brow. “It may?”
Melanie tried again. “Okay. It is crazy. But come on. Humor me. I’ve got a feeling about this.”
“Oh. One of your feelings.” Zora made air quotes and a look that said Melanie had lost her damn mind. “No offense, Mel. But I’m not sure I even get what it is that you do. Rich men pay you to find them women. Isn’t there another word for that? Starts and ends with a P?”
“You’re not funny,” Melanie said. “Why are you giving me grief about this? It’s not like you’re dating someone.” She frowned. “Are you?”
“If I said yes, would you drop this ridiculous idea?”
“Probably after I ran a background check on the guy.”
Zora laughed as she reached for her wineglass. “That would be funny if it weren’t probably true.”
“We’ll never know since you never date.”
Stunned, Zora set her glass back down. “What are you talking about? I date.”
“Yeah. Every full moon.” Melanie shook her head at such a waste. “And I don’t get it. Everywhere you go men are asking you out, but you never accept.”
Indignant, Zora sputtered, “That’s not true.”
“Excuse me, ladies,” their waiter interrupted as he returned to their table with a new bottle of wine. He showed Zora the label.
“What’s that? We didn’t order more wine,” Zora said.
The waiter smiled. “Yes, ma’am. The bottle is compliments of the gentleman over at the bar.” He popped the cork.
Melanie’s and Zora’s gazes followed the direction their waiter indicated with the tilt of his head to where a tall, handsome brotha lifted his glass and winked. The women smiled their thanks and then glanced at one another.
“See?” Melanie said.
“Whoa. We don’t know if the bottle was for me, you or both of us,” Zora reasoned.
The waiter cut in. “Mr. Blackburn asked that I also give you this, Ms. Campbell.” He held out the gold-embossed business card. “And to tell you that he enjoys your work.”
Zora accepted the card while Melanie sat back with an I-told-you-so expression. “That doesn’t count,” Zora said. “Fans do things like that all the time. It’s flattering but—” she shrugged “—they’re more in love with an image. You know. You’ve been there.”
Melanie had indeed been there. In her early twenties, she, too, had been on the fast track in the high-fashion world of modeling. In fact, she and Zora met and were roommates in a Manhattan apartment building that housed young models back in the day. Within minutes of meeting, the two women fell into an easy friendship that lasted over the years.
“Then in that case,” Melanie continued, “you should trust me to find you someone that won’t be intimidated by your money or fame.”
“I don’t know. This whole thing still has a pimpish feel to it.”
Melanie rolled her eyes. This isn’t gonna be easy.
The waiter poured the ladies two new glasses of wine and instructed them to “Enjoy.”
They both flashed him a brief butterfly smile and then fell silent as Zora read and then reread the business card. Either she was contemplating calling the brotha or tossing the card like she normally did.
“Soooo.” Melanie picked up her fork and stabbed a few vegetables in her salad. “Are you going to call him?”
“Yes,” Zora decided, but then countered. “Maybe.” She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“See?” Melanie dropped her fork and shook her head. “Why do you do that? You always shut the door on opportunity.”
“Please don’t lecture. I didn’t bring my bottle of Excedrin.”
Melanie kept charging ahead. “A career is great, Zora. But it won’t warm your bed at night.”
Zora laughed. “You’re a fine one to talk.” She reached across the table and grabbed Melanie’s right hand. “I don’t see a ring on your finger, Ms. Millionaire Matchmaker. Don’t you think you’re being just a little hypocritical?”
“We’re not talking about me,” Melanie said, a bit more testily than she liked.
“Maybe we should talk about you.” Zora wasn’t going to relent now that she had an opening to get her dear, but nosy and pushy, friend off her back. “I mean…shouldn’t you lead by example?”
“Hold up. That’s not fair. I’m a widow,” Melanie countered. “Or have you forgotten that?”
“Of course I haven’t forgotten.” Zora released her hand, but then chose her next words carefully and softly. “But Steven has been gone for quite a while.”
Melanie reached for her wine. “It doesn’t feel like it was all that long ago.”
“I’m sorry,” Zora said contritely. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
Melanie drew a deep breath and tried to force the memories back where they belonged—in the past. She needed to focus on the matter at hand and that was pulling off the miracle of getting Zora Campbell and Jaxon Landon together. For now she would have to chalk this day up as a loss. She had lost control of the conversation and she would have to approach the subject another time and in another way. But no worries. Melanie wasn’t the type to give up so easily.
“So I hear you’re getting married,” Dale Forrester yelled above the Velvet Rope’s pulsing hip-hop bass before he invited himself to plop down at Jaxon’s private booth with his usual double Scotch sloshing in his left hand. “When I heard, I couldn’t fuckin’ believe it so I figured that I would come and get it straight from the horse’s mouth.”
Relaxed and dressed head to toe in casual, black Valentino, Jaxon favored his old friend and mentor with a lopsided grin. “Do you come bearing gifts?”
“Hell, no,” he half slurred. “I came to beat some sense into you.” Lately Dale’s face seemed to be permanently flushed a deep burgundy. Either it was way too much booze or rising cholesterol. Jaxon didn’t know which, so he constantly hounded his friend about both.
Each time, Dale just waved off any and all health concerns. He didn’t like being preached to and only mildly tolerated it from Jaxon.
“Please tell me that it’s nothing but a nasty rumor and then maybe I can get back to living my life vicariously through you—such as it was.” He turned up his drink and drained the contents in one long gulp.
Amused, Jaxon took a swig of his own whiskey sour and cast a lazy glance toward the exotic dancer working the pole. She wore a bit too much makeup, but he could tell that she at least had some formal dance training.
“So what’s the story?” Dale asked, pulling Jaxon’s attention back from the stage. “Are you walking the single’s man plank or what?”
Jaxon considered toying with the man, but there was such a desperate hope twinkling in his eyes that he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. “Chill, old man. I’m not engaged.”
A broad, goofy grin broke across Dale’s face. “Sweetheart,” he yelled out to a passing waitress and held up his empty glass. “Another round. Happy days are here again.”
Jaxon laughed. It was what he did whenever he and Dale partied together. For all the man’s talk of idolizing Jaxon and his Midas touch when it came to business, Jaxon knew it was more because Dale remembered a time when he was hailed as the Prince of Wall Street. Unfortunately, his reign was shorter than he’d liked and it all ended with him serving some jail time. For the most part, the friends avoided both subjects. However, Jaxon was determined to learn from his friend’s mistakes and he made sure that all his dealings were aboveboard.
Given all the temptations of Wall Street, it was harder than it sounded.
“I shoulda known to have more faith in you.” Dale winked, plopping a fat ice cube into his mouth and then chomping away as if he was munching on a handful of M&M’s. “Take it from me, marriage is highly overrated and expensive to boot.”
“Better not let Mrs. Forrester hear you talking like that.”
“Trust me. I’m not telling you nothing she doesn’t know or hear from me on a regular basis. Destiny married me for my money and she’ll divorce me for my money one of these days. That or she’ll kill me for it.”
“You poor, miserable soul.” Jaxon chuckled, and then cast another fleeting glance toward the stage in time to see Gemini do a classic V swing, stand, drop it real low and back her luscious behind toward the crowd of panting customers. Benjamins rained down onto the stage and Gemini continued working her hips like the rent was due in the morning.
“God bless her,” Dale muttered under his breath and then wiped the side of his mouth for a drool check. “I swear that girl makes me want to put her momma on my Christmas list.”
Jaxon suppressed a grin with another gulp of whiskey. He smiled when he finally felt his afternoon buzz kick in. In fact, all that was missing was a fat Cuban cigar and busty temptress to end another trying day.
“Your drinks, gentlemen.” Honey flashed them each a radiant smile and then set their new drinks on the table before them.
Jaxon and Dale took the opportunity to appreciate their favorite waitress’s large glitter-dusted breasts and caramel-capped nipples.
“Can I get you two anything else?” she asked, centering her twinkling gaze on Jaxon. “Anything at all?”
The corners of Jaxon’s lips curved upward. “I think we’re good.”
“Speak for yourself,” Dale countered gruffly and then smacked a crisp hundred-dollar bill on top of the table. “Junior and I are in the mood for a lap dance.”
Jaxon didn’t correct him because everyone—or rather all the regulars—knew Dale referred to his small dick as Junior. There was never any shame to his game, either. He laughed at small dick jokes and would crack a few himself. If there was any time that Jaxon grew uncomfortable with his friend’s self-deprecating humor, it was when Dale kept talking about his dick as if it was a separate entity. Dale was always going with, “Junior was looking for a nice warm place to sleep for the night” or “Junior was just standing up to say hello” or “Junior and I was talking last night.”
Jaxon used to find Dale and Junior’s stories hilarious. Now, since a night didn’t pass without Junior being mentioned, Jaxon worried whether Dale and Junior were getting a little too close. (If that made any sense.)
Despite the fact that Honey was supposed to be waitressing, she set her small tray down and instantly started rocking and swinging her hips in perfect time to Beyoncé’s latest jam. One of Dale’s silly grins slid into place as he watched the up close and personal action prance in front of him, tempting and seducing him to reach for his wallet again.
Jaxon split his attention between Gemini and Honey and realized that he held their attention, as well. Gemini took a deep bend at the waist, wiggled her gorgeous brown behind and tossed Jaxon a smile. To his right, Honey shimmied her gravity-defying tits in Dale’s face while giving Jaxon the anytime-anyplace look.
Jaxon smoothly gave both women an appreciative smile that neither encouraged nor discouraged their pursuit. It was a gift. His mother used to brag endlessly about him being a born charmer. He couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t love or more importantly when women didn’t love him. In his adolescent days he played doctor so much it was assumed that he would become one.
He didn’t, but he still played one from time to time.
“Well, if it isn’t my lovable fiancé,” Kitty cooed as she sauntered over to the small table. For Honey’s benefit, she lazily but very dramatically draped an arm around Jaxon’s shoulders. “Glad to see that you could make it.”
“Of course.” Jaxon smiled. “You know I always keep my promises.”
Kitty’s smile broadened as she eased down onto his lap. “In that case, what do you say to you and me hooking up after the show?”
“I’d say I love to,” he admitted, running a finger beneath her chin.
Kitty lit up like a Christmas tree.
“But—I can’t. I’m flying out of the city tonight right after I watch your set.”
Caught between disappointment and flattery, Kitty’s smile faltered. There wouldn’t be any point in complaining or pouting. That would be the fastest way to chase Jaxon Landon away. She had been playing her cards right all this time, she wasn’t about to screw it up now.
“Well, I’m glad you made it tonight.” She caught sight of Bishop nodding his head, signaling for her to get ready for her number. The only problem was that she was all too comfortable leaning against Jaxon’s firm muscled chest. Not only did he feel good, but he smelled divine.
Jaxon glanced at his Rolex. “Showtime.”
Reluctantly, Kitty climbed out of his lap but then caught sight of Richard Myers coming in the door. The man was as predictable as the seasons. “Well, it looks like I have another fan tonight.”
Jaxon followed Kitty’s line of vision and felt his general good mood take a nosedive.
“Oh, cheer up. You could do with a little competition,” Kitty said and sashayed her way backstage.
“Yeah. You could do with a little competition.” Dale chuckled under his breath as he slid one last Benjamin between Honey’s string thong at the end of her dance.
“Thank you, baby.” She blew him an air kiss, but tossed a wink over her shoulder at Jaxon.
Dale caught the sly move and sighed. “Fifteen hundred dollars down the tube.”
Jaxon grinned. “I don’t know. It seems like you were enjoying it to me.”
“My dick is hard if that’s what you mean.” Dale smirked. “But it doesn’t mean that I’m going to get any tonight.”
“I don’t know.” Jaxon shrugged. “You could always go home and screw your wife for once.”
Dale laughed. “I might have a pocket full of Viagra, but that doesn’t mean that I’m that desperate.”
Jaxon’s head rocked back with a rumbling laugh. “You’re a complicated man, Dale. No doubt about that.”
“Speaking of complicated, when the hell are you going to fill me in on this vicious rumor circulating around town?”
Jaxon’s smile ballooned. “It’s a long story.”
“You’re in luck. I like bedtime stories.”
Jaxon shrugged and leaned forward. “Let’s just say it’s a little joke at my grandfather’s expense. I took Kitty up to my grandparents’ place this weekend. Figured I’d try to get them off my back about settling down by bringing a woman they would never approve of as my fiancée. I never knew a man could turn so many different shades of purple.”