Can he open her heart to more than a fleeting passion?

An ambitious daughter of a close-knit Louisiana clan, Kamaya Boudreaux is making a name for herself in the business world, pursuing lucrative opportunities across the country. But when her best-kept-secret venture—an exclusive male strip club—is threatened to be exposed, the all-work-no-play entrepreneur needs to do some serious damage control. Her plans don’t include giving in to temptation with sexy Southerner Wesley Walters, whose buff six-pack body was made for pleasure.

As franchise owner of the high-end New Orleans nightclub, Wes is on the climb to corporate success. He hates deceiving Kamaya—she has no idea that her lover was once the most popular performer at his establishment and guests are willing to pay top dollar for his return. With their passionate affair leading them into forever territory, Wes has to come clean. Or he risks losing the guarded beauty whose own intimate secrets could also jeopardize their future together...

“That was so much fun,” Kamaya said, breaking the blanket of silence that had descended over them.

“It was fun. And you surprised me. You have serious dance skills.”

“Five years of Latin dance lessons. You should see me rumba!”

Before Wesley could respond, a flash of white light burst in the sky above their heads. Kamaya grinned, clapping her hands together excitedly. She was giddy with excitement, her reaction almost childlike.

The lights continued to burst, fireworks snapping, crackling and popping with a vengeance. She shifted her body against his, the two of them settling comfortably against each other. Wesley draped an arm around her and pulled her close as she leaned her head against his shoulder. They both stared toward the darkened sky.

The fireworks exploded. The moment was enchanting, and Kamaya couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so carefree and relaxed.

Dear Reader,

Who hasn’t hid a secret from family and friends? Well, Kamaya Boudreaux has some big secrets! And I loved writing about every one of them. When the sexy Wesley Walters gets tangled in her web of lies and deceit, the two blend like fire and fire, igniting a blaze that will keep you hanging on to the edge of your seat until the very last word.

I really like this story! Breathing life into Kamaya’s and Wesley’s characters came with some challenges, but the research was all kinds of fun. From start to finish theirs was a connection that just felt right.

A Pleasing Temptation is all about the power of love. How deeply it cuts. How intensely it can pack a punch or soothe an ache.

Kamaya and Wesley epitomize love that manifests when it’s least expected. Love is all things joyous and happy and absolutely necessary!

Thank you so much for your continued support. I am humbled by all the love you keep showing me, my characters and our stories. I know that none of this would be possible without you.

Until the next time, please take care, and may God’s blessings be with you always.

With much love,

Deborah Fletcher Mello

www.DeborahMello.Blogspot.com

A Pleasing Temptation

Deborah Fletcher Mello

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Having been writing since forever, DEBORAH FLETCHER MELLO can’t imagine herself doing anything else. Her first novel, Take Me to Heart, earned her a 2004 Romance Slam Jam nomination for Best New Author. In 2008, Deborah won an RT Reviewers’ Choice award for Best Series Romance for Tame a Wild Stallion. Deborah was also named the 2016 Romance Slam Jam Author of the Year. She has received accolades from several publications, including Publishers Weekly, Library Journal, and RT Book Reviews. With each new book, Deborah continues to create unique story lines and memorable characters. Born and raised in Connecticut, Deborah now considers home to be wherever the moment moves her.

MILLS & BOON

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To my favorite Music Man, thank you for keeping that turntable spinning and that seductive beat burning. Dirty little secrets forever!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

“Finding a man has never been my problem,” Kamaya Boudreaux mumbled under her breath as she exchanged a look with her older sister, who grinned. “I can find a man. A very large, well-endowed man!” Her tone was low, the comment meant for her sister’s ears only. She winced when she realized her twin brother had happened to overhear.

“Ewww! Way too much information,” Kendrick Boudreaux muttered, a deep frown pulling his full lips downward.

Kamaya shot him a look as she rolled her eyes.

The private jet had barely taken off before Kamaya was being interrogated by her parents about her personal life. Or lack thereof, depending on how you chose to look at it. Her family had just left Arizona where her parents had married off their youngest daughter. Now, they were suddenly focused on Kamaya, the only one of their nine children still unmarried. Both had had way too much to say. Kamaya shook her head and rolled her eyes a second time.

“You work too hard, Kamaya,” Senior Boudreaux noted. “You can’t find a man when you’re always in that office by yourself!”

Kamaya took a deep breath. “I really don’t, Senior. But aren’t you the one who always told us to handle our business first? That all the rest could wait? That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

Obviously still giddy that her most pretentious child had gotten married in the most pragmatic manner, Katherine Boudreaux laughed. “She’s not alone all the time, Senior. That Paxton boy is always sniffing around. Just waiting for Kamaya to show him some attention. Isn’t that right, Kamaya?”

Laughter rang warmly through the space. Kamaya was beginning to wither under the parental assault, and her siblings seemed amused as she sank deeper into her leather seat. Beginning to look like a twelve-year-old under the scrutiny, it was clear she wasn’t entertained by their conversation. Without some sibling intervention she knew the plane’s landing would be her only saving grace from their old people’s impromptu relationship intervention.

“Paxton’s cool and all,” Kendrick interjected, referring to Kamaya’s friend and business partner, “but he’s not right for Kamaya. You know anyone she dates has to pass my approval first, right? Can’t have my twin with just anybody!”

“I know that’s right!” their brother Darryl interjected. “Only the best for our girls!”

Their oldest sister, Maitlyn Sayed laughed. “Yeah, right! You boys used to get a kick out of scaring our guys away more than anything else. Just ask Tarah!”

“Tarah’s glad we scared them off,” Kendrick countered. “If we hadn’t she wouldn’t be Mrs. Nicholas Stallion. Knowing how she used to pick ’em, she’d be married to that guy with the crossed eye.”

“I thought he had a squint eye,” Katherine teased.

Kendrick shrugged. “Crossed, squint, whatever. He wasn’t the right guy, either.”

Kamaya released a soft sigh. “Well, I really appreciate all this family love and support but, really, I don’t need any help right now. When I do, you all will be the first to know.”

Her brothers and sisters all laughed as one of them changed the subject, reminiscing about everything that had been good and right about the wedding. Then their mother shifted the conversation back to Kamaya.

“Kamaya, have you thought about where you’d like to be married? Do you want a big wedding or small wedding?”

“Weren’t you just pointing out that I needed to find a groom?” Kamaya said snidely. “Let’s not put the cart before the horse. Isn’t that one of your favorite mantras?” She paused. “You all really just need to leave me the hell alone!” she snapped.

Katherine cut an eye at Kamaya then, her stare noting her displeasure with Kamaya’s curt tone.

The entire space went quiet, everyone holding a collective breath. A cloud of tension suddenly hung low enough to touch. Gazes skated back and forth between Kamaya and their parents, waiting to see who would jump first. Only the hum of the plane’s engines sounded in the air.

Kamaya suddenly tensed, her eyes widening. “I didn’t mean to say it like that,” she mumbled, contrition furrowing her brow. Her eyes skipped from one of her parents to the other. Her father had shifted forward in his seat and her mother’s jaw had locked tight as she sat with her arms folded over her chest. “I apologize. That was really rude of me.”

Katherine nodded. “It was downright disrespectful and I expect better than that from you. From all of you! That’s not how your daddy and I raised any of you kids.”

“Don’t let it happen again,” Senior said matter-of-factly. “You all know how to speak to your mother like you got some sense! I won’t tolerate any disrespect toward this woman and I don’t care if you are in your feelings!”

“Yes, sir,” Kamaya nodded. “I really am sorry.” She turned her eyes toward her twin brother, suddenly wishing she could find a hole to crawl into. Damn, how old am I? she pondered, feeling very small under the scrutiny of her parents.

Kendrick wrapped her in a bear hug, laughing heartily. “It’ll be all right, Yaya,” he said, calling her by the pet name he’d used since they were two years old. “We all know you didn’t mean it.”

Kamaya gave her siblings a look. Deep down she had meant it, and each of them knew it. Maitlyn winked at her.

Feigning exhaustion, Kamaya shook herself from her brother’s embrace. Rising from where she sat, she moved toward the rear of the luxury aircraft and claimed an empty window seat in the back corner. Waving a hand for the stewardess she asked for a blanket and a pillow. After covering herself from head to toe, she closed her eyes and pretended to fall asleep.

For another ten minutes her parents bemoaned her situation and then, just like that, the conversation stalled, everyone seeming to fall into their own thoughts. Kamaya welcomed the quiet, grateful that she was no longer the center of the unwanted attention. She was even more appreciative that no one had been able to read the emotion on her face as she, too, had suddenly wondered why there was no significant partner in her life.

A soft sigh eased past her lips as she snuggled deeper beneath the warmth of the blanket around her shoulders. Kamaya had never put much thought into her own happily-ever-after. She had always considered relationships that lasted longer than a minute to be an anomaly. For every one that seemed to be going well, she knew a dozen others that had imploded with a vengeance.

Kamaya had never imagined the perfect guy to grow old with, because she truly believed none existed. Even when her siblings had each fallen head over heels, one after the other, she’d waited with bated breath for the other shoe to fall on each of their relationships.

Her sister Katrina had been the first. She had been married, widowed, and left a single mother at a very young age. Her heartbreak had set the tone for what Kamaya never wanted to see in her own life. Then Katrina had been seduced by corporate attorney Matthew Stallion. One of four wealthy brothers out of Dallas, Texas, Matthew had swept Katrina off her feet. The two then married, and were now raising Katrina’s son Collin and their own child, Matthew Jacoby Junior.

Their eldest brother, billionaire Mason Boudreaux III had been next, finding forever with the only Stallion sister, Phaedra. The two were now building another successful empire with their two sons Cole and Fletcher, and their daughter Addison.

Following on Mason’s heels, their brother Guy had gotten a lifetime gig with filmmaker Dalia Morrow, their passionate premiere netting them five achievement awards: two sets of twins, Sydney and Cicely, and Zora and Langston, as well as their son Oscar. Their brother Darryl had been next. Truly his, Camryn Charles had designed their future from start to finish, their only daughter, Alexa, tossed into the mix.

Big sister Maitlyn, the second mother of the Boudreaux brood, had crashed and burned with her first marriage, but she’d actually tried it again, her heart afire for Zakaria Sayed, the very best friend of Kamaya’s twin, Kendrick. Maitlyn and Zakaria’s daughter, Rose-Lynn, son, Zayn, and a baby yet to be named, had the couple making up for much lost time.

Kendrick had never been interested in a long-term relationship, and was solely focused on his top-secret career. On the subject of marriage, the twins had seen eye to eye. Then Kendrick had gotten himself lost for twelve days of pleasure with a client. Vanessa Harrison had been his dream come true, and when he’d finally come up for air, he, too, had been ready to walk down the matrimonial aisle.

Even the most conservative of the Boudreaux siblings, the son everyone had sworn would be the last to marry with him being so committed to his career, had beaten Kamaya to the altar. Their brother Donovan had flown around the world to the Tuscan heat chasing his dream. Now he and renowned author Gianna Martelli were writing their own love story as they awaited the birth of their first child.

And now, with Tarah, the baby of the family, suddenly someone’s missus, Kamaya found herself on the hook, everyone anxious for her to catch and reel in her own happy ending. But, truth be told, despite all that happy everyone in her family claimed to be having, Kamaya just wasn’t willing to trust any man with her heart.

Maitlyn dropped into the seat beside her. “You good?” she asked, concern ringing in her loud whisper.

Kamaya nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She lifted her eye toward her parents who were huddled in conversation. “They still mad at me?”

“They weren’t mad. Mom’s just worried. You know how she is. And you snapping at her didn’t help. Now she’s even more concerned about you.”

“I didn’t mean for that to happen. It just slipped.”

“Yeah, you were being a little sensitive. Do you want to talk about it?”

Kamaya shrugged. “Not really. I’m just ready to get back to work. I need to focus on something other than bridal gowns and floral arrangements.”

Maitlyn giggled softly. “It really wasn’t that bad. And how beautiful was our little sister?”

“She was stunning. It’s so strange to see Tarah all grown-up and mature-like. Nicholas has been good for her.”

“She’s been good for Nicholas. And your turn is coming.”

Kamaya scoffed. “Did anyone ever think I might not want a turn?”

Maitlyn nodded. “I did. But your mother says differently, and you know Katherine Toutant Boudreaux is never wrong about anything!”

“You got that right!” their mother interjected. She had moved down the aisle and was suddenly standing beside them.

Kamaya smiled. “You still love me?”

Katherine waved a dismissive hand at her. “Don’t I always?”

The three women smiled brightly at each other. Their ensuing conversation was calm and easy, Kamaya falling back into balance with everyone.

The flight attendant interrupted the moment. “Ma’am, the pilot is preparing the plane for landing. We’ll need you to take a seat and put your seat belt on, please.”

Katherine nodded, hesitating for one minute longer. “Are you coming to the house after we land?” she asked, meeting Kamaya’s stare.

Kamaya shook her head. “I don’t think so. I really need to stop in at the office and check on things, and then I want to go home and catch up on some sleep.”

Her mother nodded. “Plan on lunch next week. I need to make sure you’re really okay.”

Kamaya smiled, exchanging a look with her sister. “Yes, ma’am.”

* * *

“Yes, ma’am. I will. Yes, ma’am.” Wesley Leroy Walters was nodding into his cell phone.

On the other end, his mother, Annie Walters was cataloging a lengthy list of must-dos and expectations. “And I want you to get to church sometime soon,” the older woman said.

His father laughed, chiming in on their three-way conversation. “God knows your heart, son! Just do a drive by, wave at the pastor and get back to work. Jesus will excuse you.”

“Leon Walters! How are you going to tell our son some foolishness like that!” Annie exclaimed.

His father laughed and Wesley laughed with him. He could just imagine the look on his poor mother’s face. It made him smile as he thought about the only woman in the world who had his whole heart.

“It’s all good, Ma. I promise I’ll go to service this Sunday,” Wesley said. Behind him, the sound system suddenly blasted on, the throbbing techno bass of the 1983 club hit “White Horse” echoing throughout the room. It surprised him, his eyes widening as he slammed his palm against the mouthpiece of his cell phone.

“Wesley, what’s that noise?” his mother questioned, the sound carrying over the phone line.

“Sorry!” he exclaimed, as he shot a look at the sound man in the corner, gesturing for him to turn the music down. “I turned on my radio and didn’t realize the volume was so high,” he said, the little white lie spilling past his full lips.

His father chuckled. “Thought you all were having a party in that office of yours.”

“No. No. Nothing like that,” Wesley said as he shot an evil eye toward the other men in the room. “But I do have to run,” he said. “I need to get ready for a meeting. I’ll give you a call tomorrow, okay?”

“Of course, baby,” his mother answered.

“Handle your business, son!” his father added.

After telling them both that they were loved, Wesley disconnected the call. “What the hell?” he shouted over the music.

On the stage, Bryan Lackey was refining his dance routine. He gave Wesley a thumbs-up as he gyrated his hips from side to side.

Trey Jackson laughed. “You know he did that on purpose, right?”

Wesley shook his head. “I swear, if one of you outs me to my mother there’s going to be hell to pay!”

The other men in their group laughed heartily and Wesley couldn’t help but laugh along with them.

Bryan turned off the music and jumped down from the stage. “Sorry about that, big guy. I didn’t know it was your mother. I just knew you were lying to some stray you picked up here at the club.”

“When the hell have you known Mr. Straight-As-An-Arrow to pick up anyone from the club?” Trey asked.

Bryan shrugged. “There’s a first time for everything,” he said casually.

“You do know who you’re talking about right?”

The group laughed.

Wesley shook his head. Standing among his closest friends in the world, the men he’d known for too many years to count, he trusted them with his secrets. Knowing not one would ever purposely betray him, he also knew that any of them would take great pleasure at an opportunity to make him sweat.

Since his sophomore year at Grambling State, the men in that room had stood by him, offering a friendship that felt more like a family bond. He and Bryan had met first, college roommates. Biracial, Bryan had been the only blue-eyed blond with a porcelain complexion in their dorm. As much as he stood out, he’d fit in, and they’d become fast friends.

Trey Jackson had been their fraternity brother, pushing them both to pledge Kappa Alpha Psi. When the trio had bemoaned the stresses of financial aid or lack thereof, Victor Hudson had come with an answer to all their problems. Wesley remembered that defining moment as if it had just happened yesterday.

The party they’d been invited to had been a Who’s Who of Louisiana’s finest. A smorgasbord of beautiful, sexy, financially successful women looking for a night of entertainment. Before either Wesley or Trey could change their minds, someone had turned on the music, each had been given a stage name and the rest had been history. They had all started dancing to supplement their empty pockets. Now they each continued for a variety of reasons. Together, they were the hottest male exotic dance troupe to grace the state.

Bryan “The White Prince” Lackey, Trey “Hammer” Jackson, and Victor “Black Magic” Hudson were Wesley’s closest friends and they made up both the senior management team and talent at his newest venture: The Wet Bar. The newly purchased franchise was destined to be the hottest nightclub in New Orleans.

He turned toward his office. “Joke all you want. Being straight-as-an-arrow has kept me out of all sorts of trouble. You three should try it sometime.”

“Like that would be fun,” Victor quipped, and then turned the music back on.

* * *

Inside his office Wesley blew out a heavy breath as he dropped into his leather executive chair. Despite his joviality with his boys, he hated lying to his parents. Keeping secrets from them hurt his heart. It wasn’t how he’d been raised and it wasn’t at all indicative of the man he strove to be. But neither Leon nor Annie Walters would approve of his endeavors in the adult entertainment market. Although he knew his father would wink and make a joke about his situation, he also knew his mother would be mortified. And that’s why he had never bothered to tell them.

Dancing hadn’t been Wesley’s career of choice. It had been a means to an end, and with that goal just at his fingertips he could appreciate it for all it had been. He had preferred being called an exotic dancer, but in the adult entertainment industry stripping was what he had done. Stripping had helped pay for his bachelor’s degree in business management and his master’s in finance. And it was currently helping him purchase this franchise.

He aspired to be a corporate mogul, running his own multi-million-dollar business and The Wet Bar was just the beginning. He had danced to pay the bills and dancing had afforded him the opportunity to save and invest the money he’d made. The Wet Bar franchise was a viable business opportunity and he planned to transform and legitimize the business, making it the most talked-about venture in an industry some considered tawdry and decadent. Renovating the New Orleans location was just the beginning. He then hoped to purchase additional franchises and expand to multiple cities throughout the nation.

Despite his efforts to hide what he did from his family, there was no hiding that he knew the business like the back of his hand. He knew how to grow the client base and how to give them what they wanted. Stripping didn’t begin to define the entertainment business that would become the cornerstone of his empire.

The office door opened and the echo of Lady Gaga’s “Poker Face” vibrated through the entrance. Bryan poked his head into the room. “Hey, you busy?”

Wesley shook his head. “No. Just trying to figure out what comes next. Come on in,” he said, as he gestured for his friend to take a seat. “What’s up?”

“We got a call from the corporate office. A local television news show is doing a profile piece on the company and since our renovations are almost done, they’d like to film here.”

“Here?”

Bryan nodded, a wide grin spreading like spilled sugar across his face. “They said they’d like to spotlight you and your goals for the business. They thought it would be a good idea to showcase the grand reopening to help promote the place.”

“Wow! That’s...wow!”

Bryan laughed. “That’s what I said. They’re going to send some folks from their executive team to scout the place, talk to you and make sure it’s all a good fit for what they’re looking to accomplish.”

Wesley took a deep breath. “When?”

“They’ll be here tomorrow at noon.”

A loud expletive blew harshly out of his mouth. “I need to talk to the contractor. We have to be done on time. We can’t blow this.”

Bryan winked. “I grabbed him earlier and told him to come see you before he leaves.”

Wesley nodded his appreciation. “This is really happening.”

“Man! You’re about to blow up!”

Chapter 2

“You look like you just got off a plane,” Paxton Reid said, his gaze sweeping the length of Kamaya’s slim frame.

“So now you have jokes? You know I just got off an airplane.” She was wearing oversized sweatpants, a tank top and Converse sneakers. The look was too casual and very basic.

“But you look like you just flew on a commercial flight and not private. You should look way better.”

“You’re an ass,” Kamaya said, narrowing her gaze on the man. She and Paxton Reid had been best friends for years. They’d met in high school, lab partners who both hated science with a passion. For a brief moment they’d been a couple, but that hadn’t worked. Occasionally they were lovers, and that did work, even when it didn’t. Despite their obvious differences—he was white and a male—they genuinely cared about each other and most days that was more than enough.

Her eyes rolled as she took the short flight of stairs to the front entrance of her office space. The Michelle Initiatives, located on Lee Street, was welcoming and looked like they were in the business of selling cupcakes and lollipops. The old two-story home with its lime-colored paint, bright yellow shutters and red door belied what was really happening behind the wooden entrance.

Kamaya had named the business after herself. Michelle was her middle name. Her brother Mason had the monopoly on their last name, Boudreaux Enterprises being his claim to fame. Michelle had been personal enough, but not so much that it drew any unwanted attention from her family. Because The Michelle Initiative was all about adult entertainment.

Most of Kamaya’s businesses, either directly or indirectly, provided sex-related products and services to an adult clientele. On the titillating side there was Play Candy, her line of adult sex toys, Eye Candy, the adult publishing line that was home to erotic stories, and her newest acquisition, forty-three strip clubs across the country soon to be renamed “The Wet Bar” and revitalized to cater to an upscale female clientele. On the less sensationalistic side there were the upscale massage parlors, A Touch Above, and the vaginal rejuvenation centers, Secret Garden Clinics. But, when asked, all Kamaya ever talked about were the convenience stores and gas stations that had been the foundation of her expanding portfolio. In the corporate offices of The Michelle Initiative she employed a staff of thirty-six people who all operated out of the pretty, gingerbread-trimmed home.

Paxton bounded up the steps behind her. “I may be an ass but I’m an honest ass!” he said, his expression smug. “And you can always trust me to tell you the truth!”

Kamaya tossed him a look as she pushed her way inside. “So what have I missed?” she asked.

“The first Wet Bar franchise is opening soon. Renovations are almost done and we meet with the franchise owner tomorrow.”

“Is he on board for the feature?” she asked. “He understands that we want him to be the face of The Wet Bar?”

“Well, he will. I figured we’d break the news to him in person.”

Kamaya’s eyes widened. “You told me we weren’t going to have any problems. You know very well that you and I can’t be associated...”

“I told you. It’s not a problem. No one will ever connect your good family name with the business.”

Disaster suddenly flashed before Kamaya’s eyes as she imagined everything going straight to hell. She suddenly had visions of her parents disowning her and her siblings disavowing any knowledge of who she was. People discovering that she was hawking sex and not chips and beer could be potentially devastating. She slapped her palm against the desktop. “I knew this wasn’t a good idea. I don’t know why I let you talk me into doing this profile piece.”

“I’ve got this! And we need the exposure. If we’re going to sell these franchises and grow this brand you need to do this.”

Before Kamaya could respond, their secretary, Virginia Wade, called her name, purposely interrupting the conversation. The two were renowned for their no blows held back battles and a rise of ire was beginning to curdle like spoiled milk between them. “Kamaya, I left some checks on your desk to be signed, and the massage center called to confirm your appointment. You need to be there by eight tomorrow morning.” The woman smiled. “And welcome back.”

“Thank you, Virginia,” Kamaya said as she moved from the reception area into her office space. She pointed her index finger in Paxton’s direction. “I swear, if this blows up...”

“It won’t. Stop worrying, please. We’ve been doing this for how many years now? No one has discovered anything about your salacious endeavors and they never will.”

The two exchanged a look and then she closed the door behind her as Paxton stood on the other side.

* * *

There weren’t enough hours in a day to do everything Kamaya needed to do. She was past the point of exhaustion and she still had a grocery list of things that she needed. Work had moved from her office to the dining room in her Marengo Street home. She pushed the folders from in front of her to the other side of her table, shifting documents from point A to point B as she attempted to bring some organization to the mess.

She had bought the chain of strip clubs in spite of having some reservations, but the purchase price had been too good to pass up. Envisioning where she could take the down-and-out titty bars had been a no-brainer. Revamping their programs, revitalizing their interior designs and hiring all male dancers had been the easiest decision to make. There was a market eager to enjoy the adult entertainment men brought to the dance stage. Women loved watching beautiful, hard-bodied males and they were willing to pay well for the privilege.

Franchising the properties and the business formula had been Kamaya’s idea. Starting with the New Orleans’s property had been Paxton’s, the proximity of the location allowing them an up close and personal view of what would work and what would not. That, and his inside connection to the investor who’d easily come up with the required cash had been enough for her to trust her old friend with the reins. Now she was excited to see if he’d actually been able to pull off her vision.

She pushed herself from the table and stole a quick glance at the clock on the wall. It was just past midnight and although she knew she needed some rest, she was anxious, her entire body a ball of nerves. She needed release. Something heated and dirty, where sweat carried the fretfulness from her body. She needed her sure thing for just an hour, or maybe even two if it was really good. In the realm of Kamaya’s small world, men were toys, sex was a game and she knew how to play them both to her advantage.

As she moved toward the master bedroom she pulled her cell phone from her back pocket and pushed the speed-dial button. Paxton answered on the third ring.

“Why are you still up?” he asked, his voice low, as if he were whispering.

“I have a lot on my mind,” Kamaya noted. “Is this a bad time?”

There was a moment of hesitation before he answered. “Can we talk in the morning?”

A hint of surprised lifted her brow. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...”

“It’s no big deal,” he said cutting her off. “Laney just stopped by. She was upset and then she fell asleep...”

“Laney?”

He took a deep breath. “I was going to tell you tomorrow. Actually I was planning on telling you today but, well...” He took another inhale of air. “I asked Laney to marry me and she said yes. We’re getting married.”

Kamaya paused, his words seeming to go in one ear and explode someplace deep in her head. “You and Laney are getting married?”

“I really hope you’ll be happy for us, Kamaya. You’re my best friend, and it’s important to me that...”

She interrupted him. “Let’s talk tomorrow,” she said and then, just like that, she disconnected the call.

Seconds later the device rang, vibrating in the palm of her hand as an image of her and Paxton together flashed across the screen. She pushed the power button, and when the phone was off she tossed it to the floor of her walk-in closet and slammed the door shut.

Something like rage teased her spirit. She was surprised by Paxton’s news and she shouldn’t have been. Laney McDonald had been his Achilles’ heel for too many years to count. The woman had been blowing in and out of his life like a wayward wind, restless and wandering and never making any significant impact while there.

Laney McDonald was why she and Paxton had never been able to take their relationship past the point of friendship with occasional benefits. His obsession with the green-eyed redhead was like a fungus that had taken hold and refused to be eradicated. Laney would always find the most inopportune moments to suddenly come calling, teary eyed and emotional over something that had gone wrong and fallen apart in her life. She was a damsel in perpetual distress, and Kamaya’s buddy and pal Paxton felt obligated to save her.

Each time Laney needed to be handled, Paxton went running. Each time Kamaya’s feelings had been hurt for a split second. Deep down she knew that there would never be anything more between them and that she and Paxton would forever be friends.

Even their sexual connection had been a fluke of sorts, a night of too much rum and not enough cola spinning them into bed together. It would never have happened again if Paxton’s skills between the sheets hadn’t been so mind-blowing, but her friend was damn good in bed!

After that Kamaya had used him to scratch that itch when she didn’t want to be bothered with someone else. Because the someone else was always wanting more from her than she was willing to give. Paxton had been convenient and since she didn’t want permanent, it had worked for them both. And now he was planning to marry Laney. Kamaya couldn’t help but wonder what Laney’s husband had to say about it all.

For too many years Paxton had gone after the very married, very wealthy socialite like a rat chasing cheese. Sometimes he had stooped to a new low that had her questioning his sanity. But through it all Kamaya had known the two were a disaster waiting to happen. She was just glad she would be far from the mix when they exploded.

Stripping out of her clothes she moved from her bedroom into the bathroom. She reached for the faucet and turned on the water. She needed a shower. And she needed it ice cold.

* * *

It was close to two in the morning when Wesley locked the doors to the club and headed to his house on Camp Street. The custom home was centered in a prime location near Audubon Park. Wesley had been drawn to the home’s warm and charming simplicity. He’d first seen it when the market was down, homes lingering for months in the For Sale directory. He had considered it a blessing when he discovered the house was still on the market when he’d finally had the money to buy it outright.

Inside, he paused as he took in the herringbone brick floors and the wide planked pine that ran through the foyer and living room. During the daylight hours there was lots of natural light and everything about the space felt welcoming. The decor was extremely sparse; a futon and some pillows sat off to the side in the living room and there were a small table and two chairs in the kitchen. In the master bedroom, a king-sized mattress and box spring sat on the floor. It wasn’t much, but it was his and his chest swelled with pride each time he stepped through the door.

For a brief moment Wesley thought about making dinner, but he found the prospect of having to cook something daunting. Standing in front of the refrigerator he marveled that, for the first time in a long time, there was absolutely no leftovers inside. Deciding he wasn’t that hungry, he grabbed a Budweiser and the last of a bag of Cheetos from the counter and headed up to his bedroom.

He was excited about the future and he knew he was just hours from another turning point that would take him toward his goals. He’d been working hard to insure that The Wet Bar set the standard for those that would come after. He planned on owning as many of them as he could.

Lying across his bed he knew that he wouldn’t be able to keep what he did from his parents for much longer. But if all went according to plan, by the time they discovered the truth it wouldn’t make a difference. He’d be running an empire, making them proud of his success and accomplishments. Wesley had big dreams.

He suddenly realized how quiet his home was. Nothing creaked or leaked or gave him any reason to pause. It was disconcerting, and for the first time in a long time he felt very alone. He blew a soft sigh as he swallowed the last cheesy snack and then sat up to toss the crumpled wrapper into the trash. After chugging back the last of his bottled beer he threw his body back across the mattress.

For a brief moment he pondered the women he could invite to come spend some time with him. The list of late-night booty calls he could make at that hour was probably lengthy, but that kind of company really wasn’t what he wanted. As he thought about his future he knew he didn’t want to do casual with any woman. That time in his life had come and gone. He wanted more and he would only have the best. He prayed that God knew his needs and would bless him abundantly.

Rising, he moved himself from his bedroom into the shower. He came out of his clothes along the way, leaving a trail behind him. Stepping into the enclosure, he dashed his head beneath the hot water and allowed the spray to pelt his back. The heated moisture was soothing as it massaged him gently. He thought again about the women who were in his life. Or, more honestly, the women who weren’t.

Wesley couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone on a second or a third date. But he’d had more than his fair share of first and last dates. He was used to women throwing themselves at him. More times than he cared to count, women who had seen him perform or who knew what he used to do saw him as little more than a slab of beef, good for a late night between the sheets.

Brenda-Joy Taylor had been the closest thing to a serious relationship that he’d ever had. She’d been a church-going girl and someone his mother had liked. They had grown up together, and both their families had assumed the two would end up married with kids.

But Brenda-Joy hadn’t wanted the same life he had yearned for. She’d been happy with average and regular and hadn’t aspired to do anything extraordinary. The day she’d told him his dreams were too big had been the beginning of the end for them. He dreamed too big and she didn’t dream at all.

The last he’d heard, Brenda-Joy had married Quadell Baker. Quadell was an aspiring rapper, unemployed and sometimes known to stand on street corners, asking for handouts to help support her and their five kids. Apparently Quadell didn’t do much dreaming, either. But Wesley aspired to greatness and he couldn’t fathom a life of anything less.

* * *

The exterior of The Wet Bar was basic, at best; nothing about it raised any red flags. Despite its proximity to Bourbon Street and the French Quarter, there was nothing about the building or parking lot that drew anyone’s attention as to what might be happening behind its doors. It was exactly what Kamaya wanted; the neon lights and abrasive signs that had been there just months ago were long gone. The women who would frequent the club weren’t interested in everyone knowing their business. Discretion was key and Kamaya had insisted on everything that would make the clientele comfortable.

She nodded approvingly as she sat in the club’s parking lot waiting for Paxton to arrive. The two hadn’t spoken since he’d delivered the news that he was tying the knot. If canceling had been an option, she would have, knowing that at some point her friend would want to talk about his marriage plans and she wasn’t interested in having that conversation with him.

She still couldn’t fathom what all the fuss was about. In her humble opinion marriage was an antiquated concept pushed by bible-thumping radicals, the Hallmark greeting-card industry, bridal bloggers and her parents. Intelligent, educated women didn’t need a ring and a license to legitimize their most intimate relationships. They could build empires, mother babies and still enjoy the love of a good man. Oprah was doing it with Stedman, Coco Chanel had enjoyed the Duke of Westminster, Sheryl Crow had her lengthy list of talented, wealthy, successful male companions. Even Simone de Beauvoir and the existentialist philosopher Sartre had made love work without marriage. Marriage worked for some but Kamaya couldn’t ever see herself doing it.

Her thoughts shifted as she watched a car pull into an empty parking space right at the door. This one caught her attention and held it because the vehicle was neither flashy nor pretentious. It was a drastic contrast to the other vehicles sitting in the lot. She’d been watching as one dancer after another in some high-priced, high-end vehicle, wearing low-slung jeans or sweats and looking like they’d just graduated from a semester of thugs-are-us paraded into the club. They’d been hard bodied and buff and some very entertaining eye candy.

But this car and its owner were in a class all to themselves. The hooptie had seen better days, rust and Bondo holding it together. After shutting down the engine the driver continued to sit, seeming to look for something that had fallen between the seats. As he finally stepped out of the vehicle and locked the car door with the key, she eyed him curiously.

The tailored suit he wore looked like silk. The classic styling fit him to perfection, and unlike his car, his clothes looked expensive. The suit was a charcoal gray and he’d paired it with a white dress shirt, a somber gray and black print necktie and black dress shoes that were polished to a high gloss. He looked very corporate and very boring. Had she dressed him, he would have worn a hint of color, maybe a lavender shirt, something that hinted at a semblance of personality. Assuming he had a personality.

For a brief moment he looked toward her car, but she knew he couldn’t see inside the darkly tinted windows. Which was a good thing, because as his curious gaze skated in her direction, Kamaya felt a wave of heat course through her body and tinge her cheeks a deep shade of red.

Whoever he was, he was quite good-looking. Exceptionally good-looking! His complexion was a deep, warm vat of smooth, melted chocolate. His chiseled features were a testament to good genes, and even with the barest hint of a smile pulling at his full lips there was no missing the deep wells that dimpled his cheeks. He had facial hair, his beard and mustache meticulously edged and trimmed. He was better than good-looking and Kamaya was suddenly wanting to know more about the tall, dark and handsome stranger.

Just as he turned, moving through the front door of the building, Paxton pulled into the space beside her, his toothy grin wide, his blond locks stylishly unkempt. He stole a glance toward his wristwatch as he jumped from his car.

“Hey!” he exclaimed as he pulled her car door open. “Sorry. I had to get Laney situated before I could leave. Good morning!”

Kamaya gave him one of her infamous looks, her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, her jaw tight, her teeth clenched. There was no missing that she had no intentions of talking about his problems or his girlfriend. “We’re still early,” she said matter-of-factly. “Who are we meeting again?” She headed toward the building’s front door, Paxton hurrying after her.

“His name is Walters. Wesley Walters. As well as this night club, he has optioned the next ten franchises based on our guaranteeing support and backing as defined in our initial contract. With a few exceptions.”

“What few exceptions?”

“Nothing major. He’d like some concessions and control with how the business will evolve as a whole. It’s not much more than what we’ve already talked about.”

“And the things we haven’t talked about?”

“They’re things he’s willing to back with a cash investment, if necessary.”

“You mean, if he wants them badly enough.”

Paxton nodded. “Yes.”

Kamaya paused, her hand on the doorknob. She cut her eyes in Paxton’s direction. “And you agreed to those things?”

“I agreed to discuss it with the both of you in order to come to a mutually beneficial agreement. The contracts I had drawn up detail what I think is in our best interest under the circumstances. He may ask for more. I don’t know.”

“How do you know this man again?”

“We met in graduate school. He’s an upstanding guy. He’s going to do big things with or without us.”

Kamaya eyed Paxton a split second longer before finally giving him a quick nod, then she turned and moved into the club’s inner sanctum.

Chapter 3

Wesley was standing in the center of the elevated stage pointing at the lights overhead. Lighting was key to every performance and he wasn’t happy with the current luminosity. He was certain a change in the bulbs would solve the issue and he wanted to make it happen before the corporate franchisor showed up. The contractor was adjusting the last unit when Wesley spied Kamaya and Paxton entering the space.

His eyes widened as the stunning young woman moved in his direction. She was long and lean, with legs that seemed to go on for days. She wore black suede boots that stopped thigh high and a black leather skirt that stopped at her knees and zipped up the front. The zipper was open just high enough to allow a hint of thigh to show. Her sweater was black and long sleeved with a scooped neckline that showed off a hint of cleavage. With her hair loose, falling to her shoulders in soft, wavy curls and the barest hint of makeup on her face, she was gorgeous.

The fluidity of her movements was stealth-like, her eyes darted back and forth like a cheetah assessing prey. She’d gauged the space, the staff and him in one easy sweep around the room. From the expression on her face he sensed that she wasn’t unhappy; just the barest hint of a smile pulled at her mouth and teased the gleam in her eyes. Everything about the woman was commanding, drawing the attention of every man in the room.

Stepping off the platform Wesley extended his hand in greeting. “Hello! I’m Wesley Walters.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Walters. I’m Kamaya Boudreaux,” she said, as she noted the warmth of his hand, the slightly calloused palm and the firmness of his grip. He met the look she was giving him with one of his own, his eyes skating across her face, and as their gazes connected heat erupted from deep in her abdomen. She took a step back, her eyes shifting far from his as her partner stepped up to greet the man.

Paxton shook Wesley’s hand, the two men bumping shoulders in a gesture of familiarity. “It’s good to see you again, Wes!”

“Paxton, how’ve you been?”

“I’m very good. And we’re very excited to be working with you.”

Wesley nodded, shooting Kamaya another look. “So, Ms. Boudreaux, how long have you owned...”

“I don’t,” she said, interrupting the question she felt coming. “We just represent the owner’s interests. We work for The Michelle Initiative,” she said, the little white lie spilling easily past her lips as her stare gestured toward Paxton.

“Oh, my apologies. I misunderstood.” Wesley nodded. “Well, why don’t we take this conversation to my office,” he said.

“Why don’t you give us a tour and update us with the status of your renovations,” Kamaya ordered. Her tone was brusque and all business. She turned and moved toward the bar area, her gaze still dancing from pillar to post.

The two men cut their eyes at each other. Paxton shrugged “I report to her,” he muttered under his breath.

Wesley nodded in understanding as he turned to follow the beautiful woman. “Structurally, we’re done with the renovations. There are some minor issues with the tile in the women’s restrooms that need to be addressed and I’m assured that they’ll be resolved before end of business today. We are on schedule for our last inspection tomorrow and I anticipate we’ll have our certificate of occupancy immediately after.

“Tables and chairs will be delivered later this week and the bar will be in place this weekend. The sound system and kitchen are all up and ready, and the interior designer will be here on Monday to add the final decorative touches to all of our guest spaces. We have a team of sixteen dancers who are ready to go at a moment’s notice and our waitstaff will have three days of orientation training early next week. We are on schedule to open doors next month to a by-invitation-only crowd, and I’m confident that we will open to much success.” He took a breath and then he continued.

“All the plans are detailed with respect to the decor and staffing if you’d like to review them. I’ve also printed out the budget and my preliminary forecasts. The numbers are good. They’re even better than what I projected in my initial business plan.”

Kamaya gave him a slight nod of her head. “It sounds like you have everything under control, Mr. Walters.”

“Please, call me Wesley or Wes. Mr. Walters is my father.”

Kamaya smiled. His thick Southern accent was deep and rich, only lacking the soundtrack to make his words as sultry as country crooner Chris Young’s love songs.

The two were suddenly interrupted as Bryan Lackey moved between them. “Hey there, sorry to interrupt,” he said, his grin canyon wide, “but the guys are ready when you are, boss man.”

Wesley smiled. “Kamaya Boudreaux, Bryan Lackey. Bryan, Ms. Boudreaux is a member of the franchise team. She’s here checking that we’re ready to go next month.”

Bryan nodded. “It’s a pleasure. And I think we’re definitely good to go. I’d love to show you our best.”

“Bryan is our lead choreographer as well as my club manager.”

Kamaya cut her eyes back and forth between the two men. “Then I’d love to see your best,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Bryan looked to Wesley for his approval, and then, with a nod of his head, he moved toward the stage, gesturing for the dance team to follow.

“Would you like a seat?” Wesley asked. “I can have a chair brought out from my office for you.”

Kamaya shook her head as she shifted her weight from one hip to the other. “That’s not necessary. But I appreciate the offer.”

Wesley stared at her for a brief moment and then he gestured, pointing an index finger toward the stage.

Music suddenly echoed from every corner of the room. The acoustics were great, clearly demonstrating that some serious attention had been given to the sound system. Kamaya nodded her approval as she suddenly felt her whole body begin to sway with the beat. She didn’t know the song but it had a lush, sexy vibe and she knew a female audience would instantly be engaged. And then the dance team strutted onto the stage.

Kamaya felt her heart skip a beat and then two. She took a step forward as if moving closer would give her a better view when she had the best line of sight in the house, nothing obscuring the stage. The next ten minutes, with three song changes, left Kamaya sweating, perspiration puddling in her creases and crevices as if someone had turned on an inner water faucet and left the water running.

There were twelve men on stage, each one a sight to behold. They all had bodies that were solid steel beneath baby smooth skin, six-pack abs and male model looks. They were a rainbow of hues from the darkest chocolate to the warmest vanilla. They were Black, Caucasian, Latino, Asian and a multitude of mixed races that had them looking like a United Nation’s contingent.

When they were all standing in matching blue and green Speedos, hips and legs moving in near perfect sync as they gyrated to the deep, ravishing beat of the Black Eyed Peas’ “Boom Boom Pow,” an actual smile appeared on Kamaya’s face.

Paxton leaned over her shoulder and whispered in her ear. “Down, girl!”

“Boy, bye!” Kamaya chuckled. She shot Wesley a look, the man still staring at her. “Very impressive. You should all be very proud.”

Wesley grinned. “Thank you. We are. Would you like to see an individual routine? Any of the guys would be willing to perform.”

“That’s not necessary,” she said, shaking herself out of the reverie she’d fallen into. “I would like to know how you plan to keep things from becoming too raunchy, in order to establish an upscale image. We do want to maintain a semblance of decorum.”

“None of the dancers will ever expose himself. They will go down to an approved G-string and some penis socks on the main stage, but definitely no full nudity. The costumes are top-notch, well made and artistically engineered. We also have procedures in place for any women who might get out of hand and want to get a little too touchy-feely.”

Kamaya nodded her approval.

Wesley gestured for her to follow as he led them past the stage into the employees-only area. The men were all gathered, waiting to hear from him how well they’d done and if they’d made the powers in charge happy. As she passed, she paused for a split second, giving them all a thumbs-up and a wink. He tossed his friends a look but his attention was focused on Kamaya. He ushered her past the dressing area down a short hallway to another area of the building. Past the closed door was a row of tastefully decorated rooms, each with an oversized recliner, a settee, a coffee table and a pole.

“This was here with the original business,” Wesley said. “There’s another more private entrance at the opposite end of the hallway where we came in. It’s now our VIP area for private dances for women wanting something more up close and personal. Women who are willing to pay for that discretion.”

“We are not promoting prostitution!” Kamaya exclaimed, her incredulous expression moving him to smile. “There will be no happy ending rooms for you and your staff! That’s not happening!”

He shook his head. “No, we are definitely not promoting prostitution and every dancer knows that they will be automatically dismissed if they ever engage in any kind of sexual activity on club premises in exchange for payment. Although what they do after they’re off the clock is not our business and we can’t control it. But there are women willing to pay well for some one-on-one attention. It’s usually that uptight business executive who has to maintain an image even when she’s here, but relishes an opportunity to get buck wild when no one is looking. You know the type. Women much like yourself.”

Paxton laughed out loud at the comment. Kamaya gave him and Wesley a narrowed gaze.

Wesley smiled. “I apologize. That was out of order, but I was only teasing. Trying to lighten the mood.”

There was a hint of amusement in Kamaya’s eyes as her gaze danced with his. She blinked it away, shifting back to serious. “Do not get us shut down by the police’s vice department because your men can’t keep their dicks in their pants. And I mean it. If that ever happens, you may come up short in more ways than one. We are building a brand and an image, and I will not see that tarnished. I don’t think you have a clue what’s at stake.”

Wesley’s stance tensed, his shoulders pulling back as he seemed to grow taller where he stood. He took a step forward, meeting her toe to toe. He stared down into her eyes. “Don’t get it twisted, Ms. Boudreaux, I am fully invested in the success of The Wet Bar. Now, I understand that the franchisor dictates the framework, the basics, but past that, I’m in charge. I’m managing and growing this business. I hire. I fire. I’ll figure out what works and what doesn’t. And I’ll dictate how to market and promote every one of my locations. I’m wagering everything I have on making this model work for every franchise that comes after this one. Since I know that you and your bosses want to see me succeed, it will be a win–win situation for all. The happy ending rooms for our female clientele will stay.”

The moment was suddenly tense, the air fraught with energy. The two stood, staring each other in the eye, falling headfirst into the look the other was giving. Each could have easily gotten lost in the other’s gaze. Kamaya suddenly realized that she was panting slightly, the air thick and warm between them. She took a step back, wishing for a cool breeze to blow her out of the reverie she’d somehow managed to trip into. She decided to change the subject, ignoring his last comment.

“We’re putting a significant amount of money into your marketing program over the next six weeks to support your grand opening. I reviewed your advertising campaign and it’s been approved but...” She paused as she gestured for Paxton to pass her a manila folder from his briefcase. “It’s my understanding that you may have worked with a dancer we think should be invited to help motivate the customers and help bring in a crowd. I’m told he was extremely popular and had quite a following. His stage name was Deuce or Deuces, but we haven’t been able to find out anything else about him.”

“Deuce?” Wesley’s face suddenly went blank, his expression unreadable.

She nodded. “He had quite a reputation,” she said, as she flipped through a number of newspaper articles. “But we haven’t been able to find any photos or videos. Seems like he peaked prior to everything being captured on the internet, but the women are still talking about him. If he’s dancing, maybe hire him to be a featured guest performer. If not, maybe he can MC or something. Either way, we think it’ll be good for business.”

“Maybe one of the other guys knows who he is?” Paxton interjected.

“Who?” Bryan questioned, having entered the room behind them. He looked from one to the other. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt but the contractor needs you to take a look at the tile in the ladies’ room.” He tossed Wesley a nod. “So, who is it you want to know about?”

“A dancer by the name of Deuce,” Paxton said. “Unfortunately, we don’t have his government name.”

“Deuce?” A slow smile pulled at the man’s thin lips. “I know Deuce. I know him really well. In fact, he’s a very good friend...”

“Well then,” Wesley interrupted. “We know who he is. I’ll reach out and see if I can’t get him to perform.”

“We need an answer by Wednesday,” Kamaya noted. “There are ads that will need to be revised before they go to press. So if you need me to speak with him, I can.”

He shook his head. “I can handle it, but if he’s not interested I’m not going to push.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll be interested.” Bryan grinned.

Wesley shot his friend a look, the gesture flying over Kamaya’s head.

“Then I think we’re finished here,” she said, doing an about-face. She stole a quick glance down at her wristwatch. “I have another meeting to get to. Paxton, if you’ll please get any paperwork Wesley has for us, I’d appreciate it. I’d like to review those numbers he put together.”

Paxton dropped a tentative hand against her forearm. His voice dropped to a low whisper. “Do you have time for us to talk?”

Kamaya stepped out of his reach, pulling her arm from his grasp. “Maybe later,” she said. There was no missing the friction that shifted between them. Wesley eyed them both curiously, not missing the annoyance that had furrowed Kamaya’s brow.

She turned and extended her hand to shake his. “Congratulations, Wesley! You’ve done a great job,” she said as her palm glided like silk against his.

There was just a split second of something that Wesley was sure neither of them could explain or define. It passed like a strike of lightning between them. It was a wealth of heat and emotion that startled them both. She snatched her hand from his as he clutched his into a tight fist.

He smiled, the bend of his lush lips showcasing picture-perfect teeth. “Thank you.”

Kamaya smiled back. “How do you feel about being the public face of The Wet Bar?”

Wesley’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“Our executive board would like to personalize the image somewhat, and we believe that your enthusiasm about the business and your knowledge about the industry make you a good fit. Obviously we would compensate you accordingly, but it would mean that most marketing queries would roll through your office. Obviously The Michelle Initiative would support you as needed, but we’re willing to let this be your baby, if you agree.”

His gaze narrowed slightly. “Why?”

“This is a very public foray into the adult entertainment business. For personal reasons, the owners would like to distance themselves somewhat. This would allow them that.”

“I’d like to think about it and get back to you, if that’s okay?”

She nodded. “That’s not a problem at all. And if it will help in your decision, know that the compensation would be quite handsome.”

Paxton interjected. “For obvious reasons we would need to know before the opening.”

Wesley nodded. “I understand.”

Kamaya took a deep breath. “Paxton will give you all the details about the interview and the film crew that will be here next week, but if you have any other questions or concerns, please give me a call,” she said, as she flipped a business card through her fingers and slid it across his palm.

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

And with that, Kamaya turned, almost racing from the room.

“Wow!” Bryan exclaimed. “Damn! That woman is gorgeous! Did you see those hips and whips?” he asked, gesturing with both hands across his chest and then his butt.

Paxton gave him a look, something protective seeming to sweep over his broad shoulders. “She’s out of your league. Besides, she’s taken.”

Bryan shrugged. “The good ones always are.”

Wesley bit down on his bottom lip, his best friend’s words echoing in his head. The good ones always are!

* * *

“Sounds like you’re going to be coming out of retirement,” Bryan teased, when the two men were finally alone. Paxton was long gone after detailing the rest of the business they needed to address, and Bryan and Wesley were now winding down for the night.

Wesley lifted his eyes to stare at his friend. “Excuse you?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Deuce!”

Wesley shook his head, a slight smirk pulling at his mouth. “That is not going to happen.”

“It will if Miss Boudreaux has something to say about it.”

“Well, she doesn’t.”

“And what if she asks to speak with him herself?”

“Then I’m giving her your telephone number, and you’re going to tell her that you’re out of the country and a trip back isn’t viable.”

Bryan laughed. “You expect me to lie?”

Wesley laughed. “Damn right!”

“Maybe you should just tell her the truth and let her know you’ve retired and are out of business.”

“I don’t make a point of telling anyone about my dancing days. How long has it been now? Hell, I don’t even know if I can dance anymore! I’m still trying to figure out how she got my stage name.”

“Clearly, the woman did her research. You know better than most that we are a small community nationwide. Ask the right woman and she can tell you who the top dancers are at Chocolate City in Atlanta, Chippendales in Vegas, Thunder Down Under, and Black Diamond in New York. And by next month, they’ll add their favorites from The Wet Bar to the list.”

“But I haven’t danced in years!”

“You were one of the best in the business. I learned my best moves from you. Hell, the best of the best learned their moves from you! Your reputation is legendary. Ask any of the guys about Deuce and they will tell you how they aspire to your notoriety.”

Wesley sat back in his seat, his hands folded together as if he were in prayer. His mind wandered as he thought about what his friend had said about his former career and his reputation in the industry.

It used to be a running joke that they called him Deuce because of what was in his pants. He was well endowed, and there had been women who’d mused he was packing at least two good feet of solid meat between his thighs. Of course, two feet was a good foot and an inch on the side of ridiculous, but he had run with it and it had paid off. On a good night Wesley had easily pulled over a thousand dollars in tips. A bad night netted him four or five hundred dollars. Had he been able, he would have danced seven nights a week. But since he couldn’t, he’d danced Thursday, Friday and Saturday, and for more private parties than he could count. He’d shaken his goods at brides celebrating their last hurrah, divorcees getting their feet re-wet and women who simply enjoyed a good time.

He had purposely avoided the more salacious aspects of the business. He had never had sex with a client or with anyone when he was working. He’d maintained a certain etiquette when performing, never, ever exposing his bare package. Over the years he had seen some things from other dancers that made his head spin and that wasn’t how he had wanted to be remembered.

But dancing had served him well. It put him through school, bought and paid for his first home and had enabled him to buy the business he was now building. He had few regrets and much appreciation for how the business had treated him. But he wasn’t interested in making a comeback. The past was best left in the past. He blew hot air past his lips, the weight of the situation bearing down on his spirit.

He suddenly thought about Kamaya Boudreaux. The woman had excited him. He had done a good job of containing his interest, and even in those few moments that had gotten tense between them, he had still found her thoroughly engaging. But he recognized that she could be a force to be reckoned with and he instinctively knew that telling her no wouldn’t be as easy as he hoped. Yet he had every intention of telling the woman no. The dancer known as Deuce would not be making an appearance at the grand opening of The Wet Bar.

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