After a Night with a Hot Nightclub Owner [Completed]

FIXED ON YOU

I FELT ALIVE.

The alternating flashes of dark and soft lights, the throbbing pulse from

an Ellie Goulding club mix, the movement of sweaty bodies dancing,

grinding, enjoying each other-The Sky Launch Nightclub got into my

blood and turned me on in a way that I hadn't let anyone or anything else do

in quite some time. When I was there-working the bar, assisting the wait

staff, attending to the DJs-I felt more free than at any other time of my

day. The club held magic.

And, for me, healing.

For all its vibrancy and life, the club was a safe haven for me. It was a

place I could attach myself without worry of going overboard. No one was

going to sue me for focusing too hard or long on my job. But rumor was

The Sky Launch, which had been up for sale for quite some time, was about

to be sold. A new owner could change everything.

"Laynie." Sasha, the waitress working the upper floor, pulled me from

my thoughts and back to my job. "I need a vodka tonic, a White Russian,

and two Butterballs."

"Got it." I pulled the vodka from the shelf behind me.

"I can't believe how busy we are for a Thursday," she said as I worked

on her order.

"It's the summer crowd. Give it a week, and the place will explode." I

couldn't wait. Summer at the club was a total blast.

"That's when things around here get fun." David Lindt, the general

manager of the club, joined our conversation, a sparkle showing in his eyes

as the bright white light that lit the bar illuminated his face.

"Real fun." I gave David a wide smile and winked while I placed the

drinks on Sasha's tray, my stomach tensing with a flicker of desire.

He answered my wink with one of his own, stirring the flicker in my

belly to a low flame.

David wasn't the love of my life-not even the love of the moment-

but his shared passion for the club sparked something in me. My interest in

learning more and moving up from bartending had seemed to interest him

as well. More than one late night of showing me the ropes had ended in

heavy make-out sessions. Though I hadn't been instantly attracted to him,

his small stature, curly blonde hair and blue eyes had grown on me. Also,

his keen business sense and exceptional management style were qualities I

required in a man. And, truthfully, the lack of effect he had on my emotions

provided half the draw. We had decent chemistry, but he didn't have me

freaking out all over him like I had over other guys. He was safe and solid

and that was my definition of the perfect man.

I rang up Sasha's order while David filled shot glasses-Todd's order, I

suspected, another waiter standing next to Sasha. David rarely stepped

behind the bar anymore, but we were short-staffed for the night and I

welcomed his help. Especially with the way we were picking up. A regular

and his friends had leaned against the bar waiting for my attention, and out

of the corner of my eye, I saw a suit taking a spot at the far end of the

counter.

I handed Sasha her ticket, but David stopped her before she could take

off. "Hold on. While there's at least a few of us here, I think we should toast

to Laynie." He passed around the shots he'd been filling. Tequila-my

liquor of choice.

I peered at him suspiciously. While it wasn't unusual to have a shot or

two while working a shift, it was always kept on the down-low, never in

front of our manager and certainly not at his encouragement.

"No worries," David said, bumping my shoulder with his. "It's a special

occasion."

With a shrug, I smiled and took the shot he offered me. "You're the

boss."

"We're too busy for a proper toast, so let's just say this is to Laynie.

We're proud of you, girl."

I blushed and clinked glasses as everyone around, including the regular

customer and his friends, shouted out "hear, hear" and "cheers."

"Woo hoo!" I screamed my own excitement. I'd worked hard to get my

degree. I was proud of myself too. I slammed the shot back, enjoying the

burn as it lined my throat and spread through my veins. "Goddamn, that's

nice!"

Aware that the crowd was getting antsy, Sasha took off with her order

while David filled Todd's. I turned my attention first to the regular, a guy

whose name deserted me. He leaned in to give me a hug, which I returned. I

might not remember him, but I knew how to earn my tips.

"Four of whatever's on tap," he said, raising his voice over the music

which seemed to have gotten louder in the last few minutes. "Where's

Liesl?"

I handed him his first two mugs and began work on the next two. "Since

she's covering all my shifts next week she has tonight off." That's right-

this was the guy that usually flirted with Liesl, another bartender.

"That's cool. So what are you doing on your vacation?" With Liesl not

around, Regular turned his charm on me. His eyes travelled to my breasts

that were admittedly hard to miss. Especially with my low-cut neckline. I

had some nice girls, who could blame me for showing them off?

"Absolutely nothing." I hoped my delivery sounded like I was looking

forward to my vacation. Truth was I'd taken the time off so I could go home

and spend time with my older brother. But only that morning, Brian had

called the trip off, saying that he was too swamped with work. He wouldn't

even be able to make it to my graduation.

I swallowed the emotions that threatened to show on my face. On top of

being disappointed, I was terrified. Me with nothing to occupy my time was

not an attractive me. I'd almost told David several times to go ahead and

put me on the schedule, but every time I started, I felt like a total loser.

Maybe a week off would be good for me. I could handle it. Right?

Now wasn't the time to fret about the week to come. I finished the

transaction with Regular and slid down the bar to take care of the suit at the

end of the counter.

"Now what can I get...you...?" My words trailed off as my eyes met

the suit's, the air leaving my lungs, suddenly sucked out by the sight that

met me. The man...he was...gorgeous.

Incredibly gorgeous.

I couldn't look away, his appearance magnetizing. Which meant he was

exactly the type of man I should avoid.

After the numerous heartaches that had dotted my past, I'd discovered

that I could divide the men I was attracted to into two categories. The first

category could be described as fuck and forget. These were the men that got

me going in the bedroom, but were easy to leave behind if necessary. It was

the only group I bothered with anymore.

They were the safe ones. David

fell into this category.

Then there were the men that were anything but safe. They weren't fuck

and forget-they were, "Oh, fuck!" They drew me to them so intensely that

I became consumed by them, absolutely focused on everything they did,

said and were. I ran from these men, far and fast.

Two seconds after locking eyes with this man, I knew I should be

running.

He seemed familiar-he must have been in the club before. But if he

had been, I couldn't imagine that I'd have forgotten. He was the most

breathtaking man on the planet-his chiseled cheekbones and strong jaw sat

beneath perfectly floppy brown hair and the most intense gray eyes I'd ever

seen. His five o'clock shadow made my skin itch, yearning to feel the burn

of it against my face-against my inner thighs. From what I could see, his

expensive three-piece navy suit was fitted and of excellent taste. And his

smell-a distinct fragrance of unscented soap and aftershave and pure male

goodness-nearly had me sniffing at the air in front of him like a dog in

heat.

But it wasn't just his incomparable beauty and exquisite display of male

sex that had me burning between my legs and searching for the nearest exit.

It was how he looked at me, in a way that no man had ever looked at me, a

hungry possessiveness present in his stare as if he not only had undressed

me in his mind, but had claimed me to be sated by no one ever again except

him.

I wanted him instantly, a prickle of fixation taking root in my belly-an

old familiar feeling. But that I desired him didn't matter. The expression on

his face said that he would have me whether I wanted it or not, that it was

as inevitable as if it had already happened.

It scared the hell out of me. The hair on my skin stood up as witness to

my fear.

Or perhaps it rose in delight.

Oh, fuck.

"Single-malt Scotch. Neat, please."

I'd almost forgotten I was supposed to be serving him. And the idea of

serving him seemed so sexy, that when he reminded me of my job, I nearly

fell over myself to get his drink. "I have a 12-year-old Macallan."

"Fine." It was all he said, but the delivery in his low thick voice had my

pulse fluttering.

As I handed him his Scotch, his fingers brushed mine and I shivered.

Visibly. His eyebrows rose ever so slightly at my reaction, as if he were

pleased.

I jerked my hand back, tucking it against the bodice of my sheath dress

as if the fabric could erase the warmth that had already traveled from where

he'd touched me to the needy core between my legs.

I never brushed fingers with customers-why had I done that?

Because I couldn't not touch him. I was so drawn to him, so eager for

something I couldn't name that I'd take whatever contact I could get.

Not this again. Not now.

Not ever.

I moved away from him. Far and fast. Well, as far as I could get, curling

into the opposite corner of the bar. David could serve the guy if he wanted

anything else. I needed to be nowhere near him.

And then, as if on cue in the bad luck life I led, Sasha returned. "David,

that group in Bubble Five is harassing the waitress again."

"On it." He turned to me. "You can handle it for a minute?"

"I so got this." I so didn't have it. Not with Mr. Draw-Laynie-To-MeWhatever-The-Cost-To-Her-Sanity sitting at the end of the bar.

But my declaration was convincing. David slipped out from behind the

counter, leaving me alone with the suit. Even Regular and his friends had

joined a group of giggly girls at a nearby table. I scanned the dance floor

hoping I could attract customers by glaring at the sea of faces. I needed

drink orders. Otherwise, Suit might think I was avoiding him by hiding in

my corner, which, of course, I was. But, honestly, the distance between us

did nothing to dim the tight ball of desire rolling around in my stomach. It

was pointless avoidance.

I sighed and wiped down the counter in front of me, though it didn't

seem to need it, just to keep myself occupied. When I braved a glance over

at the hottie who had invaded my space, I noticed his Scotch was nearing

empty.

I also noticed his eyes pinned on me. His penetrating gaze felt more

than the typical stare of a customer trying to attract the bartender, but

knowing I had a tendency to exaggerate the meanings of other people's

actions, I dismissed the idea. Summoning my courage, I forced myself over

to check on him.

Who am I kidding? No forcing was necessary. I glided to him as if he

were pulling me with an invisible rope. "Another?"

"No, I'm good." He handed me a hundred. Of course. I'd been hoping

he'd give me a credit card so I could glean his name.

No, no, I was not hoping for that. I did not care for his name. Nor did I

notice that his left hand was absent of any ring. Or that he was still

watching my every move as I took the cash he'd given me and rung his

order into the register.

"Special occasion?" he asked.

I furrowed my brow then remembered he'd seen our toast. "Uh, yeah.

My graduation. I walk tomorrow for my MBA."

His face lit up in honest admiration. "Congratulations. Here's to your

every success." He raised his drink toward me and downed the final

swallow.

"Thank you." I was transfixed on his mouth, his tongue darting out to

clean the last drop of liquid off his lips. Yum.

When he set his glass down, I reached out my hand to give him his

change, bracing myself for the thrill of contact that would inevitably happen

when he took it from me.

But the contact never came. "Keep it."

"I can't." He'd given me a hundred. For one glass of Scotch. I couldn't

take that.

"You can and you will." His commanding tone should have rankled me,

but instead it got my juices flowing. "Consider it a graduation gift."

"Okay." His demeanor took away my will to argue. "Thanks." I turned

to stuff the money into my tip jar on the back counter, pissed at myself for

the effect this stranger had on me.

"Is this also a goodbye party?" His voice called from behind me,

drawing me back to face him. "I don't imagine you'll be using your MBA

to continue bartending."

Of course that's what a suit would assume. He was probably some

business type that shared the opinion of my brother-there were jobs worth

having and jobs for other people. Bartending was the latter.

But I loved bartending. More, I loved the club. I'd only started my

graduate work because I needed more to do. Something to keep me

"occupied" was what Brian had said when he offered to pay for my

expenses beyond what my scholarship and financial aid covered.

It was a good decision-the right decision since it essentially stopped

my life from spiraling out of control. For the past three years I'd thrown my

life into school and the nightclub. Problem was that graduation took most of

my preoccupation away. And now bogged down with student loans, I had to

figure out how to make ends meet without having to leave The Sky Launch.

But I had a plan. I wanted a promotion. I'd been helping with

supervisory duties for the last year, but had been unable to get an official

title since managers had to work full-time. Now that school was over, I was

available for more hours. David had been grooming me for the position.

The only wrinkle in my trajectory could be a new owner. But I wasn't going

to worry about that. Yet.

Explaining my intent to strangers was never easy, though. How wise

was it to use an MBA from Stern for a career in nightclub management?

Probably not wise at all. So I swallowed before answering the suit.

"Actually, I'd like to move up here. I love the nightclub scene."

To my surprise, he nodded, his eyes shimmering as he sat forward into

the bright white light of the bar. "It makes you alive."

"Exactly." I couldn't keep back my smile. How had he known?

"It shows."

Hot, rich, and in tune with me. He was precisely the kind of man that I

could obsess over, and not in the healthy way.

"Laynie!" The shout of the Regular from earlier drew me away from the

intense gray eyes of the stranger. "I'm out of here. Wanted to say congrats

again and good luck. And, hey, here's my number. Give me a call

sometime. I can help you occupy your week off."

"Thanks, uh," I read the name he'd written on the napkin he'd handed

me, "Matt." I waited until he'd walked away before tossing it in the trash

under the counter, catching the suit's eye as I did so.

"Do you do that with every number you receive?"

I paused. It wasn't like I hadn't hooked up with customers before, but

never with regulars. That was a rule. I didn't want to see them again. Too

much temptation to go crazy over them.

But I had no interest in having that conversation with the suit. And with

his eyes constantly on me, I finally believed that my attraction to him

wasn't one-sided. Not when he'd tipped me so generously. "Are you trying

to figure out if I'd throw away your number?"

He laughed. "Maybe."

His reaction made me smile and made the moisture between my thighs

thicken. He was fun to flirt with. Too bad I had to end it. I placed my hands

on the counter and leaned toward him so he could hear me better over the

music, trying not to delight in the searing look he gave my bosom as I did

so. "I wouldn't throw yours away. I wouldn't take yours at all."

His eyes narrowed, but the laughter from earlier still danced in them.

"Not your type?"

"Not necessarily." Pretending I wasn't attracted to him was futile. He

had to be aware of my reaction to him.

"Why then?"

"Because you're looking for something temporary. Something fun to

play with." I leaned even closer to deliver my punch line-the one that

would deter even the horniest of men. "And I get attached." I stood back up

to my full height so I could take in his reaction. "Now doesn't that just scare

you shitless?"

I'd expected to see panic flash through his face. Instead, I saw a flicker

of amusement. "You, Alayna Withers, do anything but scare me." But

despite his words, he stood, buttoning his suit coat as he did.

"Congratulations again. Quite an accomplishment."

I watched him for far too long as he walked away, more crestfallen

about his abrupt departure than I wanted to admit.

It took me a good five minutes after he left to realize I'd never given

him my name.

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER TWO

"HAVE you met the new owner yet?"

I glanced up from my clipboard at Liesl's backside as she studied the

contents of the small fridge behind the bar, her cascading purple hair

dancing with her movements. My brow furrowed. I hadn't forgotten about

the new owner but had tried not to think about him, knowing I'd obsess.

Irritation at being reminded of him now filled my response. "When

would I have met him?" I hadn't been at the nightclub since my graduation

more than a week before.

Liesl closed the door to the fridge and shrugged. "I don't know. You

could have stopped by or something."

She knew me too well. I'd stopped myself several times that past week

from wandering over. It had been a battle, but I'd stayed away. "Nope.

Actually, I spent most of the week at a spa near Poughkeepsie."

"Well, la de da!" Liesl raised a studded eyebrow. "Did you win the lotto

when I wasn't looking?"

"Hardly. It was a gift from Brian." He hadn't bothered with a card, just

an envelope containing the train ticket and voucher for the resort delivered

to me by my doorman the morning of my graduation. It was thoughtful.

And so very unlike my brother. Maybe it had been his wife's idea.

"How...nice." Liesl detested Brian and never bothered to hide it. One of

the few people in my life who knew my history, she was fiercely loyal and

always on my side. My brother, not so much. That automatically put them

at odds.

"Don't sound so shitty. It was nice. I did a bunch of crap I'd never done

before-horseback riding, rock climbing. Tons of spa treatments-feel my

skin!" I held out my hand for her to feel. "My hands have never been this

soft."

"You're not kidding. Baby smooth."

"It was good for me. Really. Exactly what I needed. Relaxing but still

kept me preoccupied."

"Wow. Score one for Brian. Maybe he's finally growing up." Her voice

lightened. "And how was your time not at the spa?"

Miserable. The five days at the spa had been perfect, but after the trip

was over, I had to return to my real life, which meant an empty apartment

and a mind that refused to stop working. "I'm glad to be back, if that's what

you're asking. And I may have four or five files of new ideas for the club."

She laughed. "Hey, at least that's healthy obsessing."

I smiled sheepishly. "Healthyish." I searched for the Skyy Vodka that

my report said should be on the shelf and marked its presence on my paper

when I found it. There were benefits to an active mind. I always had perfect

inventories and flawless presentations. It was in relating with people-men,

to be precise-that obsessing had its disadvantage.