All Tied Up

Either a naughty side lurked beneath Nicole Ward’s conservative exterior, or she’d been burned badly when she’d learned of her ex’s habits and gone into withdrawal. Constantine’s gut said she had a well-concealed kinky side. And his gut had never steered him wrong before.

If ever he’d seen a woman in need of some loving, it was this one. She was wound tight and ready for release. He could tell by the way she crossed those gorgeous legs and let her shoe dangle from her foot. He bet that her toenails were painted red, not some soft pink-and-cream color. Red for seductress. A seductress who hadn’t come out to play in a very long time.

An innocent game of flirtation would get him past her defenses. Too bad he’d have to stop at a bit of wordplay. Even at that, if Nicole was, indeed, innocent of wrong-doing, she’d be mad as hell when she met him again—as her new witness. When she calmed down, she’d understand. She had to. He’d acted out of necessity, faced with what might be a decision of life or death…his.

Constantine shoved off his bar stool, and started walking toward his target. A long time ago, he’d learned to never look back.

Tonight, he would play the game, consequences be damned.

***

“I SHOULDN’T BE HERE,” Nicole said, raising her voice to be heard over the familiar pop tune the DJ played. “I have a trial starting in less than a week.”

Brenda sipped from her straw. “This night is big for me, so you will just have to deal with it. Besides,” she added, “it’s about time you had fun.” She waved two fingers at an all-American-looking, football type across the bar. “Oooh, he’s cute.”

“Enjoy him, now,” Nicole said, wishing Brenda would take a different path. She’d been trying to convince her to rethink her plans for months. “Going to work for Daddy means you have no life.”

Brenda snorted. “Unlike you, I’m not giving up sex. I don’t need a relationship, but, honey, I need a good man and I need one often.”

“Right,” Nicole said with disbelief. Brenda really didn’t get how their father’s world would consume her. How it could destroy her individuality and steal her life. “You’ll be so buried in work, you won’t remember what goes where. Sex will be a distant memory.”

“You and Mike seemed to find time for sex. I seem to remember a laundry list of places you ‘did it.’ The storage room, the elevat—”

“Enough!” Nicole said, hating that subject. Even after three years, thinking about what she’d allowed herself to become still bothered her. “Don’t remind me about Mike.”

“Don’t avoid the subject,” Brenda retorted. “You and Mike might not have talked, but you had lots of sex, despite working at Daddy’s firm. You found time and so will I. Admit it. You know it’s true.”

Nicole took another long sip from her straw, suddenly needing a drink. Yes, she’d had lots of sex with her ex. Too much. It had controlled her, just as money had. “Life is not about sex. That’s my point.” Silently she added, Or money, as Daddy would have you believe.

“Aha,” Brenda said, crossing her arms in front of her chest and nodding as though in mock cross-examination of a witness. Her baby-blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “So you were having lots of sex.”

“That’s all I had with Mike,” Nicole replied dryly.

“I see.” Brenda pursed her lips as she reached for her Tequila Sunrise. “He was one of those. I figured as much.”

Nicole’s brows inched upward. “One of those?”

“You know,” Brenda said. “The ‘fuck you and roll over’ types.”

Running a finger over the rim of her glass, Nicole pondered her response, seeing no reason to hold back at that point. “Actually, he was the ‘fuck me three times and roll over’ kind of guy.”

They shared a laugh and suddenly, having spoken the painfully true words out loud, Nicole felt better.

With a new, more relaxed mood, Nicole enjoyed a playful conversation with Brenda, even finding humor in her sister’s ongoing flirtation with the jock guy.

Finally, when Brenda had teased the man enough, he sauntered over to the table. When the jock asked Brenda to dance, she accepted, and then cut Nicole a look. “I’ll be back.” She pinched the straw in Nicole’s Tequila Sunrise and leaned close to her ear. “S-e-x. I need it and so do you. Find you some, honey.”

Nicole cast a wry glance at the ceiling as Brenda scurried off to the dance floor, her hand in the jock’s. A second later, as if he’d been beckoned by Brenda’s naughty intentions on her sister’s behalf, a stranger appeared.

And what a stranger he was. The man could heat an iceberg.

Shoulder-length raven hair, with a slight wave, framed a square jaw and high cheekbones. Chocolate-brown skin and a dark goatee spoke of a Hispanic heritage; the indentation in his chin and the small scar above his full top lip, of a renegade.