Deadly Desire (Riley Jenson Guardian 7)

"Much better," he said, voice low and throaty, sending a ripple of delight through me. He pressed a button on his desk, opening the door to his right. "He's in his office."

"Thanks, Golden."

"Definitely my pleasure," he said, then laughed as I worked the hips just a little bit more. "If you ever get tired of the old man, you know where to come and play next."

My grin grew, but I didn't answer as I walked through the coffee room and into the hallway beyond. Ben looked up as I entered his office, then leaned back in his chair and gave me an insolent grin. "Well, well, look what the dog dragged in."

I sat on the corner of his desk and tried to ignore all the beautiful black skin his tank top exposed. "I bought wine."

"What type?"

"Wolf Blass." It was his favorite, not mine. I was more a Brown Brothers gal.

"I guess I'd better forgive you, then." He rose, giving me a fuller view of his long, strong body. My nostrils flared as I sucked in the delicious scent of him, and my ever-dizzy hormones sizzled.

"I had to rescue a street kid from a zombie," I said, concentrating on opening the bottle rather than on the delicious-looking man walking back from the liquor cabinet. That way lay trouble, and I had enough of that on my plate already-no matter what my hormones might think.

Ben raised a dark eyebrow as he held out the glasses. "Street kids and zombies? The Directorate has branched out."

I snorted softly. "You have no idea." I poured the wine, then put the bottle on the table and accepted one of the glasses. "Here's to a quick capture of zombie masters and vampire killers."

"Now what the hell kind of toast is that?" he said, his grin flashing brightly. "Here's to pretty redheads. May they find their way to my bed sooner rather than later."

I laughed and touched my glass to his. "Your bed is the last place I need to be right now."

"Hey, I'm versatile. I can do desks, walls, floors, whatever."

"Heard that about you." I took a sip of the tart wine, then said, "Tell me about Man Hard."

His sigh was dramatic, but the effect was spoiled by the twinkle in his bright eyes. "There's no such place as Man Hard. There is, however, a Meinhardt's. Different pronunciation, emphasis on the front half of the word."

"If they wanted it pronounced properly, they should have gone for an easier name."

"True." He walked around the desk and sat back down. "It's only been around for about six months, but it's doing reasonable business, from what I hear."

"So who runs it?"

"Are you sure I can't seduce you?"

"Positive. But I will treat you to a very nice dinner later in the week to make up for my no-show tonight."

"Excellent." The twinkle in his bright eyes became one of anticipation. Meaning the seduction attempts would continue full force during that dinner. And while I didn't have any immediate intention of giving into the desire that swirled between us, part of me wondered how wise it was to keep throwing temptation in my path like this. He took a sip of wine, then added, "A guy named Brad Herrott manages the place on a day-to-day basis."

"But he's not the owner?"

"No. Two women apparently own the place, but I can't tell you a whole lot about them."

"Why not? Surely there has to be some scuttlebutt about them. Everyone gossips in the sex industry, don't they?"

He laughed. "Not as much as people think. It's an industry that does need to keep its secrets."

"So you've never seen the owners?"

"No."

"What about the club itself?"

He raised an eyebrow. "What about it?"