Heated
Page 12
I bit back a smile, remembering how well Candy did on a good night back in her dancing days. Exhausting, but in the right club, dancing could be downright lucrative.
Right then, though, I wasn’t interested in the dancers, the men, or what was going on in the dark, secluded corners. Instead, all I wanted was to get to Tyler’s office.
I saw a door with a single window on the far side of the cavernous room, just to the right of the bar. It had a plaque on it, and though I couldn’t read it from where I stood, I guessed that it announced that what was beyond that door was limited to employees only.
I headed that way, put my hand on the knob, and pushed.
As I expected, the bartender called out to me. “Ladies’ room is over there,” he said, pointing back the direction from which I’d come.
“Thanks,” I said sweetly. “But I don’t need it. I’m just going to go wait for Tyler in his office.”
“Is that a fact?”
“Mmm-hmm,” I said, running my fingertips lightly over my collar bone. I hoped I looked just a little bit drunk and very sexed up. I hoped I looked like someone Tyler would take to the back room.
The bartender hesitated long enough to make me worry, and so I soldiered on. “I just left him at The Drake. He had to finish something up with Cole, but he told me to meet him here.” I upped the wattage on my smile. “He gave me pretty explicit instructions on where he wanted me to wait for him—and how he wanted me, um, dressed,” I added. Then I shrugged. “Call him if you want, but he should be here in thirty minutes at the latest.”
And then, with my heart pounding, I pushed through the door and into the hall.
I was guessing that the bartender wouldn’t call to confirm—at least not for another thirty minutes. By that time, I’d have already had the chance to search Destiny’s employee files. I hoped the files were in Tyler’s private office—I was assuming he had one—but if not I figured the main business office was down this hall, too.
I’d get in the files, see what information—notes, address, forwarding information—that Destiny had on Amy, and then escape through the back entrance. I’d undoubtedly have to deal with the fallout tomorrow, but at least I’d have the information.
Best case, I got outside clean and clear, then snagged a taxi at the nearby convenience store.
Worst case, the bartender called the cops on me, and I waited until they had me in the patrol car to tell them who I really was and beg them to give me a break for professional courtesy.
Frankly, I could live with either result. And the truth? I was looking forward to doing a little off-the-books snooping around. I wasn’t on the job, and the Fourth Amendment be damned. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the moment or because my blood was still humming with the memory of Tyler’s touch. All I knew was that I hadn’t been this revved in a long time.
I liked it.
Tyler’s office was on the left, and I breathed a sigh of relief when I found it unlocked. I entered, then turned the lock behind me. Just in case.
It was decorated simply. A wall of filing cabinets. A large, serviceable desk. Two guest chairs. And a small, but comfortable-looking sofa. One wall was dominated by a dry erase board covered with what looked like a rough schedule of employee shift times.
The rest of the walls were decorated with framed photos of buildings. Odd angles. Interesting arches. Skyscrapers straining towards the sky. They were all done in black-and-white, and each seemed to focus on some different architectural element. They were lovely, and though I never would have expected artwork like that in a place like Destiny, having met Tyler, I couldn’t deny that the photos seemed to fit.
Honestly, I would have liked to have spent some time looking at them. But duty called, and I headed to the filing cabinets. They were vertical metal cabinets, each with four drawers, so that each unit was almost as tall as me. The drawers were labeled simply with alphabetical notations, and I said a silent prayer that these were for Destiny and not his personal files.
I tugged on the drawer for D-F, figuring that it was my best bet since Amy could be filed under D for Dawson or E for employee.
The drawer, however, didn’t budge, and I noticed the locking mechanism near the top.
Damn.
I hurried back to the desk, and had just started to search for the key or something to pick the lock with when I heard the doorknob rattle.
I glanced at the clock—not even five minutes had passed—then shoved the desk drawer shut and ran around the desk, moving on my tip toes so that my heels wouldn’t click on the wooden floor. I heard the rattle of a key, then saw the deadbolt turn. The door started to move inward just as I leaped onto the desk, leaning back a bit to accentuate my breasts and then plastering on a smile that I hoped would convince the bartender I’d come here only to get down and dirty with Tyler.
Except it wasn’t the bartender.
It was Tyler himself.
“Well,” he said, stepping into the office, then locking the door behind him. “Isn’t this interesting?”
I crossed my legs, trying to ignore the cold wash of panic that had settled over me.
I reminded myself to be calm. That this scenario was covered by one of my contingency plans. But plans never felt quite the same in reality, and I was having to work hard to control my breathing.
“You pissed me off,” I said, with a husky edge to my voice. “I thought I’d come here and try to change your mind.”
“Did you?”
I cocked my head. “Greg called you, didn’t he? Told you I was here.”
“No.”
“No,” I repeated thoughtfully. Greg may have called, but that wasn’t why Tyler was at Destiny. No way he could have made the drive in barely five minutes. “No,” I said again. “You followed me.”
He took two steps closer, and my pulse increased exponentially. “I told you, Sloane,” he said. “I intend to find out what you want. Why you came after me. Why you told me that you want to play.”
“I told you that already,” I said. “Is it so hard to believe that I want you? That you pissed me off? And so I came here to make sure I would have you?”
He smiled easily. “As stories go, it has some heart. But I’m not buying it.” There were only a few feet between us now, and he closed the distance easily until he was standing right in front of where I sat on the edge of his desk. He reached out and uncrossed my legs, then gently spread them.
He stepped between my knees, then cupped the back of my head, easing me toward him even as he leaned in and kissed me hard, biting my lower lip before pulling away.
“Try again,” he said. His voice was light, but he was watching me intently, and I used the short span of time before I answered to remind myself that Tyler Sharp was a brilliant man who hadn’t gotten where he was—in either legitimate or illegitimate enterprises—by being foolish or blind or reckless. On the contrary, he was clever and careful and ruthless. And that meant that I had to be even more so.
“Did you know I applied at Destiny?” I asked him. “Got turned down flat.”
“Did you?”
“I thought it was strange, because I’ve done waitressing before.”
“There’s not a lot of turnover at Destiny,” he said. “Our employees are very loyal. But I’m beginning to understand.” He eased my dress up until his fingers found bare thigh.
Right then, though, I wasn’t interested in the dancers, the men, or what was going on in the dark, secluded corners. Instead, all I wanted was to get to Tyler’s office.
I saw a door with a single window on the far side of the cavernous room, just to the right of the bar. It had a plaque on it, and though I couldn’t read it from where I stood, I guessed that it announced that what was beyond that door was limited to employees only.
I headed that way, put my hand on the knob, and pushed.
As I expected, the bartender called out to me. “Ladies’ room is over there,” he said, pointing back the direction from which I’d come.
“Thanks,” I said sweetly. “But I don’t need it. I’m just going to go wait for Tyler in his office.”
“Is that a fact?”
“Mmm-hmm,” I said, running my fingertips lightly over my collar bone. I hoped I looked just a little bit drunk and very sexed up. I hoped I looked like someone Tyler would take to the back room.
The bartender hesitated long enough to make me worry, and so I soldiered on. “I just left him at The Drake. He had to finish something up with Cole, but he told me to meet him here.” I upped the wattage on my smile. “He gave me pretty explicit instructions on where he wanted me to wait for him—and how he wanted me, um, dressed,” I added. Then I shrugged. “Call him if you want, but he should be here in thirty minutes at the latest.”
And then, with my heart pounding, I pushed through the door and into the hall.
I was guessing that the bartender wouldn’t call to confirm—at least not for another thirty minutes. By that time, I’d have already had the chance to search Destiny’s employee files. I hoped the files were in Tyler’s private office—I was assuming he had one—but if not I figured the main business office was down this hall, too.
I’d get in the files, see what information—notes, address, forwarding information—that Destiny had on Amy, and then escape through the back entrance. I’d undoubtedly have to deal with the fallout tomorrow, but at least I’d have the information.
Best case, I got outside clean and clear, then snagged a taxi at the nearby convenience store.
Worst case, the bartender called the cops on me, and I waited until they had me in the patrol car to tell them who I really was and beg them to give me a break for professional courtesy.
Frankly, I could live with either result. And the truth? I was looking forward to doing a little off-the-books snooping around. I wasn’t on the job, and the Fourth Amendment be damned. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the moment or because my blood was still humming with the memory of Tyler’s touch. All I knew was that I hadn’t been this revved in a long time.
I liked it.
Tyler’s office was on the left, and I breathed a sigh of relief when I found it unlocked. I entered, then turned the lock behind me. Just in case.
It was decorated simply. A wall of filing cabinets. A large, serviceable desk. Two guest chairs. And a small, but comfortable-looking sofa. One wall was dominated by a dry erase board covered with what looked like a rough schedule of employee shift times.
The rest of the walls were decorated with framed photos of buildings. Odd angles. Interesting arches. Skyscrapers straining towards the sky. They were all done in black-and-white, and each seemed to focus on some different architectural element. They were lovely, and though I never would have expected artwork like that in a place like Destiny, having met Tyler, I couldn’t deny that the photos seemed to fit.
Honestly, I would have liked to have spent some time looking at them. But duty called, and I headed to the filing cabinets. They were vertical metal cabinets, each with four drawers, so that each unit was almost as tall as me. The drawers were labeled simply with alphabetical notations, and I said a silent prayer that these were for Destiny and not his personal files.
I tugged on the drawer for D-F, figuring that it was my best bet since Amy could be filed under D for Dawson or E for employee.
The drawer, however, didn’t budge, and I noticed the locking mechanism near the top.
Damn.
I hurried back to the desk, and had just started to search for the key or something to pick the lock with when I heard the doorknob rattle.
I glanced at the clock—not even five minutes had passed—then shoved the desk drawer shut and ran around the desk, moving on my tip toes so that my heels wouldn’t click on the wooden floor. I heard the rattle of a key, then saw the deadbolt turn. The door started to move inward just as I leaped onto the desk, leaning back a bit to accentuate my breasts and then plastering on a smile that I hoped would convince the bartender I’d come here only to get down and dirty with Tyler.
Except it wasn’t the bartender.
It was Tyler himself.
“Well,” he said, stepping into the office, then locking the door behind him. “Isn’t this interesting?”
I crossed my legs, trying to ignore the cold wash of panic that had settled over me.
I reminded myself to be calm. That this scenario was covered by one of my contingency plans. But plans never felt quite the same in reality, and I was having to work hard to control my breathing.
“You pissed me off,” I said, with a husky edge to my voice. “I thought I’d come here and try to change your mind.”
“Did you?”
I cocked my head. “Greg called you, didn’t he? Told you I was here.”
“No.”
“No,” I repeated thoughtfully. Greg may have called, but that wasn’t why Tyler was at Destiny. No way he could have made the drive in barely five minutes. “No,” I said again. “You followed me.”
He took two steps closer, and my pulse increased exponentially. “I told you, Sloane,” he said. “I intend to find out what you want. Why you came after me. Why you told me that you want to play.”
“I told you that already,” I said. “Is it so hard to believe that I want you? That you pissed me off? And so I came here to make sure I would have you?”
He smiled easily. “As stories go, it has some heart. But I’m not buying it.” There were only a few feet between us now, and he closed the distance easily until he was standing right in front of where I sat on the edge of his desk. He reached out and uncrossed my legs, then gently spread them.
He stepped between my knees, then cupped the back of my head, easing me toward him even as he leaned in and kissed me hard, biting my lower lip before pulling away.
“Try again,” he said. His voice was light, but he was watching me intently, and I used the short span of time before I answered to remind myself that Tyler Sharp was a brilliant man who hadn’t gotten where he was—in either legitimate or illegitimate enterprises—by being foolish or blind or reckless. On the contrary, he was clever and careful and ruthless. And that meant that I had to be even more so.
“Did you know I applied at Destiny?” I asked him. “Got turned down flat.”
“Did you?”
“I thought it was strange, because I’ve done waitressing before.”
“There’s not a lot of turnover at Destiny,” he said. “Our employees are very loyal. But I’m beginning to understand.” He eased my dress up until his fingers found bare thigh.
