"Aren't you even going to ask what the game is? What I want. What I expect." He bent over, then whispered in my ear. "Don't you want me to tell you exactly how I intend to touch you?"
Yes, yes, I wanted to scream. I wanted to know. Wanted to be prepared. But that wasn't part of the game--of that much I was certain. So I stood my ground and slowly shook my head. "I already told you--I want you. That's it. That's all I need to know."
"I'm very glad to hear it." He reached out for a lock of my hair and twisted it casually around his finger. "That way I don't need to waste precious time telling you how I intend to strip you naked. How I plan to stretch you out, and then taste every delicious inch of you."
I shivered. "No," I murmured. "You don't need to. But if you want to tell me, you just go right ahead."
He laughed, warm and full of life. "Tempting. But no." He took my hand and started to draw me across the room. "Let's get out of here, shall we?"
I hesitated, suddenly unsure in the face of reality.
He came to a stop, his eyes on my face. "Change of heart?"
"I--no," I said, too quickly if the smug expression on his face was any indication. "I was just--nervous," I admitted.
There was a sharpness in his eyes as he moved closer to me, his proximity both calming and rattling me. "Some say that nerves add to a moment's excitement."
I managed a wry grin. "Not possible," I said. "My excitement quotient is all maxed out."
"Sweetheart, there's always more." He took my arm. "With me. Now," he said, and continued toward the exit.
"Tyler!" The deep voice boomed out from somewhere behind us. "Hold up a minute, man."
Tyler pulled me to a stop, and I found myself standing hand in hand with him while Cole August closed the distance between us in three long strides.
"What's up?"
"Just checking. We're still on for tomorrow?"
"Absolutely," Tyler said. He glanced at me. "Sloane, meet one of my business partners. Cole August."
I held out my hand, and it disappeared into Cole's huge one. Despite the man's size, his touch was surprisingly gentle. "I won't keep you. I'm sure Tyler has plans for you."
His expression remained perfectly pleasant, but his tone held something dark, and as he released my hand, I couldn't shake the sense of trepidation.
Instinctively, I stepped closer to Tyler, relieved when his arm eased around me.
"Catch you later," Cole said, his attention shifting back to Tyler. "You're good?" he asked as his eyes flicked quickly to me.
"Five by five. We'll talk tomorrow."
"I'll pull Evan into the loop." He turned to me, and though his smile was brilliant, his eyes revealed nothing. "Nice to meet you, Sloane," he said, then turned away, leaving me feeling strangely confused. As if I was missing the subtext.
But then Tyler took my hand and raised it to his lips. He pressed a kiss to my palm, and despite the gentleness of the touch, it set off a riot of sensation inside me.
"Come on," he said, then drew me toward the exit, stopping only long enough to retrieve my purse from the check stand. Once out of the Palm Court, he led me through the lobby. It was a beautiful area. Ornate without being pretentious. Well-appointed. Comfortable yet elegant.
I barely saw the damn place.
He steered me to the right and down the stairs to the entrance. We stepped through the doors, and he signaled to the valet. A moment later, a sleek black Lexus pulled up, and the valet opened the door.
Tyler gestured for me to get in, and once I did, he rested his hand on the hood, then bent down. He slid his hand around the back of my head, his fingers twining in my hair. He drew me close, then closed his mouth over mine, the force of the kiss rumbling through me, making my body clench and my pulse quicken.
"Tyler," I murmured when he pulled gently away.
His eyes were warm as he nodded to the driver. "Give Red your address and your phone number. Tomorrow," he said. "Be ready for me."
I gaped at him. If he'd tossed a bucket of cold water all over me, I couldn't have been more surprised. "Are you fucking kidding me?"
"Anticipation, sweetheart," he said smoothly. "It's the most potent of aphrodisiacs."
"Yeah?" I said, and then flipped him the bird. "Anticipate this."
He laughed, which really wasn't what I was going for, and his smile was just a little too smug. "Oh, yeah," he said, in a voice that burned like slow, smooth whiskey. "I'm going to like fucking you."
Oh, holy mother of god. My body practically vibrated with a combination of desire and frustration. But dammit, I kept my cool. "You would have," I agreed silkily, "but you damn well missed your chance."
And then, before either Tyler or the valet could make a move, I grabbed the handle and pulled the damn door shut.
Chapter Six
What the fuck? I mean, seriously. What the goddamn fuck just happened?
I leaned back, frustrated, against the soft black leather and glared daggers at the back of the head of the man who drove me.
Red. Tyler had said the guy's name was Red, which presumably meant he was on Tyler's payroll and not a random car company driver.
I considered letting Red do exactly what Tyler had instructed--take me home. But then I'd just have to get a taxi back to the Drake in the morning, since my car was still with the hotel valet.
More than that, though, I didn't want to go home. I was antsy and edgy and even though I knew damn well that I was feeling the effects of Tyler tossing cold water all over my raging libido, I told myself that my frustration stemmed from the fact that he had completely fucked up my plan: Get in, get close, get the story on Amy.
I drew in a deep breath, the kind that was intended to remind myself why I'd come to this party in the first place. Not because I wanted in Tyler's bed--although that was most definitely a significant perk--but because of Amy.
Just because Tyler slammed the door on me didn't mean I had to slam the door on my goal.
I had a Plan B--and, although it was risky, in the grand scheme of things it wasn't any more risky than getting naked with a man who the entire law enforcement community of the Midwest believed was a criminal. With a little luck, it might even work.
We were on Lake Shore Drive, so I leaned forward and told Red to circle back to Michigan Avenue. "I'm in the mood to walk," I said. "You can just let me off anywhere."
He looked dubious, but he didn't argue, and I told myself that was a good sign. He dropped me off in front of Water Tower Place and I made a show of entering the mall. It wasn't quite nine on a Saturday, so the center was still open and busy, and I loitered for a good ten minutes before exiting and returning to the street. I held out my hand and got lucky hailing a taxi.
And then I went to Destiny.
I'd been twice before, of course. The first time to scope the place out. To get a feel for it and, I'd hoped, to chat up the girls. But the staff hadn't been open to gossiping about former employees, and I'd been just as unsuccessful when I'd tried to strike up a conversation in the parking lot.
The second time, I'd gone in and applied for a job. If the girls wouldn't talk to strangers, they might talk to one of their own. That plan, however, had crashed and burned.
Now, though, I could play the Tyler card. And the beauty of it was that even if the whole thing backfired, I was still covered--all because Tyler left me high and dry in front of The Drake.
Still, my plan didn't entirely still my nerves, and my heart was pounding when I paid the driver and exited the cab in front of Destiny's unassuming entrance. I went inside, learned that women had no cover on Saturdays, and continued through the door that separated the alcove from the actual club.
I paused just inside the door to look around, pretending to be checking something on my phone. Since I'd been here before, I knew what to expect--the tables, each with a large, raised stage in the center. The girls dancing with poles. The men watching and drinking and tipping. And then tipping some more when the girls slid closer, givi
ng them an up-close and personal view of either tits or ass, all in exchange for a few extra bills.
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."