Guarded Passion Read online

  Pace leaned over, and I thought he was about to slap me on the back. I glared at him, and he subsided into his seat in the booth.

  “She’s a little hottie, ain’t she?” he called over the music.

  I ignored him to continue watching the brunette winding herself around the pole and looking right at me. An illusion. She probably couldn’t see past the spotlight shining into her eyes. But for a few seconds, I swore something like a live wire sparked between us.

  My gut reaction was way beyond the pulse of heat a man gets from seeing a nearly naked woman. It wasn’t about the way she danced or her looks or anything else I could put my finger on. I’d seen prettier girls, bedded sexier women, and some of the other dancers were more talented, but something about the coltish long-legged brunette detonated an explosion of desire inside me.

  I dragged my gaze back to the less magnetic presence beside me. I was here to conduct business, not gawk at nude women. I wanted to sell a section of land to Sam Pace, and we’d chosen not to deal through lawyers. A strip club was Pace’s choice of venue to hammer out the details, not mine, but I hoped booze and sex might distract him from the negotiation.

  I was right. By the time we’d sat there for nearly an hour going back and forth over price and acreage, Sam seemed much more interested in his next drink and in watching the strippers than in continuing our business. Eventually, he signed off on forty acres at twice the amount I would’ve accepted.

  But that was after the awkward moment when he tried to buy me a lap dance.

  Being so close to the sexy woman I’d been ogling sent an even stronger rush of arousal through me. I desired her with a deep ache in my balls and someplace in the pit of my stomach. The powerful feeling hit me completely off guard, and I don’t like surprises. I shoved my libido down and snarled my disinterest at Pace, refusing to look at the girl again. Selena, Pace called her. I was so pissed at having my feathers ruffled, I railroaded Pace into that advantageous deal.

  Forty acres sold and the first step in my new business plan complete. I was on track to my goal, and if everything went as planned, I’d soon be out of the pot business and into a legal enterprise. After that thing up in Chicago with my brother Micah, I’d had a long ponder about my life and come up with a plan to move toward legitimacy.

  I shared one last drink with Pace when Selena came onstage again. The short skirt of her schoolgirl outfit enhanced the length of her amazing legs. Her petite breasts barely pushed out the front of the blouse, but when they were uncovered, they were perfectly shaped, rose-tipped, and lovely. With an intensity that made my entire body throb, I wanted to feel those nipples rolling over my tongue.

  I cursed myself and dragged my pervy gaze away. How often had I come to this club or others like it to conduct business and never been remotely interested in the action onstage? I was an expert at controlling my emotions, compartmentalizing them until I chose to allow them out. But tonight I felt like an impulsive teenager again. This woman attracted me beyond reason.

  As she peeled off a kneesock, I glanced again at her pale leg. School’s out forever. Then I looked away, gathering up paperwork while Pace bugged me to hang out with him for a while. I stayed for just one more shot.

  Not until I was in the parking lot and caught sight of the stripper’s jeans-clad butt in the air, her head under the hood, did I start to consider paying for her services. When I needed sexual relief, I rented a woman. No strings, no concern about hurt feelings, nothing but a business deal with a definite end. I didn’t need the kind of emotional mess girlfriends or wives left in their wake.

  If I screwed this Selena, maybe I could get her out of my system, eradicating my disconcerting hunger for her. A lot of these strippers set up “dates” for the end of the night. Maybe it was a common practice for her.

  I helped her get her car started, then worked up the courage to ask for what I wanted. I didn’t do it often enough to ever truly feel comfortable hiring a companion. Besides, I wasn’t certain Selena was up for it. She certainly seemed not to get my meaning at first.

  In her clear, bright eyes, I could almost see the moment when the light clicked on and she began to consider my request. She frowned, and I upped my offer. I can’t stand to lose. Once I lock in on achieving a goal, I won’t rest until I get it. This lithe-limbed girl had become an objective to win, and I played hardball until she agreed.

  As we shook hands on the deal, I felt a little hitch in my chest at her frayed cotton gloves and cheap shiny coat. She was poor and seemed so young, I had to ask her age. Her promise that she was a very legal twenty-one didn’t do much to ease my discomfort. I was only seven years older but felt ancient. Selena, or whatever her real name was, seemed too innocent to be sucked into my sordid plans.

  My momentary guilt didn’t stop me from leading the way to the motel, checking in my rearview now and then to see if she was still following.

  I checked in at the desk while Selena waited in the lobby. With a key card in hand, I led the way to our room. I had to keep reminding myself I’d done this before. A brief and satisfying coupling and fare-thee-well, not a big deal. But past companions had seemed hardened by life, unbothered by questions of morality or illegality, as eager as I was to complete the transaction and move on.

  This felt different.

  It felt wrong.

  I held the door and heard Selena’s quick intake of breath before she entered the room, as if she were gearing up to face a firing squad.

  I followed her in and went straight to the window to close the drapes. I glanced over to see her standing in the center of the room, unzipping the front of her coat, then zipping it up again. Up, down, up, as she stared at the bed.

  I wished there was a minibar. I could use another shot to push me the next step forward. I didn’t do this often enough to feel comfortable about it.

  Selena still wore her fuzzy gloves. One finger poked through a hole in the tip as she pulled the zipper tab up and down. The sight of that tiny bit of skin unleashed a bolt of lust more powerful than when I’d seen her nearly naked on stage. I wanted her with a fervor that had my body quivering. A thick lock of brown hair had escaped from the knitted cap she wore and hung over her right eye. I wanted to tuck it behind her ear, and then I wanted to cup her chin and lean in to kiss her soft, full lips. I could almost feel what the pressure of my mouth on hers would be like. But I stood there, frozen, unable to move.

  She looked toward me but over my shoulder as if she couldn’t bear to meet my gaze. “So, I guess we should start, huh?”

  I grunted, unable to form words.

  She took off her hat, and her hair crackled with electricity as it tumbled around her face. When she combed her fingers through it, she only mussed it up more, and damn, that tousled, fresh-out-of-bed look sent another toe-curling jolt of heat through me. She unzipped her coat and shrugged it off her shoulders.

  I did the same, tossing my coat over a chair and taking a breath to get a grip on myself before turning to face her.

  Her too-small sweater ended well above her jeans, revealing an enticing slice of bare stomach. The powder-blue sweater fastened in front with a row of daisy-shaped buttons. The low scooped neckline and the nipples pressing against lightweight acrylic suggested she wore no tank top or bra. Selena toyed with the top button. My gaze was transfixed, heart pounding. I needed to see each button slowly released from its hole, revealing bit after bit of her.

  I folded my arms to contain myself from reaching out and ripping the thing open. I tried to appear nonchalant, as if I was actually the one in charge here. After all, I’d paid for this experience. But the truth was Selena had all the control. I was a pulsing muscle of dumb need.

  Much to my disappointment, she stopped toying with the button and crossed her arms. She ran her palms up and down her bare arms under the short-capped sleeves.

  “Are you cold? I can turn up the heat?”

  She shook her head.

  “Do you want another drink?” I grew
more nervous by the second, and more gun-shy about taking the next step. Why? I’d never hesitated to seize what I wanted before.

  “Are you trying to get me drunk?” she asked, then shook her head again. “No. I have a kid to get home to after this. I’m not going to give myself a hangover in the morning.”

  A kid. She looked too young to take care of a puppy, let alone a child.

  “How old?” I blurted.

  She narrowed her eyes and bit her lower lip, maybe wishing to take back that bit of personal information. “Not to be rude, but it’s not your business.”

  I knew better. You don’t ask a hooker personal questions. Sharing details about her life wasn’t part of the deal. In fact, it was the reason for the arrangement—no need to act interested in her beyond how her body and mine fit together.

  That was what I’d wanted, right? Now here she was, all for me. All I had to do was reach out and take her.

  I regained control of myself, suppressing any shred of concern over what faux-Selena might be thinking or feeling. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she fulfilled her end of our bargain.

  I unbuttoned my shirt and took it off, aware of her gaze raking over my arms displayed by a sleeveless undershirt. Heat like coals in the pit of my stomach made my skin feel feverish and added fire to my erection. I reached for the fly of my jeans but fumbled with the top button when Selena began taking off that sexy sweater.

  One flowered button after another slipped through its hole. As the front of the sweater parted, the fragile wings of her collarbones and then her pert rose-tipped breasts were revealed. She tossed the sweater beside her coat and stood, arms held loosely at her sides so I could study her naked torso.

  Elegant, I thought as I took off my shoes and shed my jeans. And delicate, although there was nothing to suggest her body was anything but tough and sturdy. Maybe it was because she was so slender, the ladder of her ribs faintly visible beneath her flesh, that I thought of her that way. Her waist curved in and then flared in, hips visible above her low-slung jeans. Beautiful. More beautiful simply standing there than she’d been winding around a pole on stage.

  As she stared back at me, her eyes told me a secret. Selena was aroused, her pupils wide and so dark she looked like an anime character.

  Seeing her attraction helped erase the rest of my inhibitions, and I moved toward her like a stalking lion on a gazelle. Soon I’d have her pinned under me and devour her flesh in a way that would please both of us. Just because this was a business transaction was no reason we couldn’t come out of it mutually satisfied.

  I slid my hands around the curve of her waist and stroked them up her smooth back, the warmth of her flesh baking into my palms. My hips crowded up against hers, the bulge of my erection pressing into the front of her jeans. I ground against her a little, and she made a small noise in her throat.

  I stared at her mouth, then angled my face and latched on to it with mine. Her lips parted, and I swept my tongue between them, tasting a faint trace of cherry lip balm. Her mouth molded to mine, so sweet and yielding, I craved more. I kissed her deeper, and her hands hooked over my shoulders, clinging to me.

  That small gesture and the way her body wrapped so willingly around mine made me feel powerful, strong, dominating. A primitive urge to possess this woman’s body and soul swept through me. I lifted her off her feet and set her up on that low dresser, moving between her spread legs. Those jeans had to come off.

  For a few moments, it was like we were fused together. Her legs locked around me, holding me to her. She rocked when I rocked, moving in unison to relieve our growing arousal. And best of all, she kissed me back, longing, hungering kisses and soft, mewing moans in her throat. Oh God, this was good, amazing, wonderful, and then—

  Abruptly, Selena stopped gripping my shoulders and pushed her hands against my chest. She dragged her mouth away from mine and inhaled, and she unlocked her legs from behind me.

  I opened my eyes to look down at her flushed, wide-eyed face. “No. Wait. No. I can’t do this. Please stop.”

  Her tone wasn’t merely nervous or upset, but anguished. I felt as if I’d tried to rape her or something as I quickly let go and stepped back, leaving her sitting on the chest of drawers.

  Her hand went to her mouth, covering it, touching her lips as if she could still feel my bruising kiss, and she shook her head. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was muffled by her hand. “I just can’t. This was a terrible idea.”

  She hopped off the counter and reached behind her to feel for her sweater. She didn’t turn her back on me, as though afraid I’d attack her while she wasn’t looking.

  My cock deflated like it had been punctured. I’d terrified her without even meaning to.

  “You don’t want to do this,” I murmured under my breath, stating the obvious and wishing I had my clothes back on to cover my humiliation.

  Selena gave me a hard look. “How many of the women you hire do you think want to have sex? Of course I don’t want to be here. I just didn’t know it would be so…”

  She left her sweater unbuttoned and pushed her arms into her parka, zipping it up and then grabbing her purse. “I know we made an agreement, but I just can’t follow through on it. It’s not who I am.”

  My erection was gone. Suddenly I didn’t want to be there either. I wished I’d never approached this woman in the parking lot. I should’ve followed my instinct and headed straight home, locking down my lust until I could hire an actual professional to slake it.

  Selena hurried toward the door. I was undressed, so I couldn’t even go after her, offer to walk her down to her car or something, make it up to her in some small way.

  And then she was gone, and I was left alone in the motel room, feeling like a fool and aching at the loss of something that I’d had no business reaching for.

  Chapter Three

  Rianna

  I’ll put this behind me and never think of it again. It will be as if it never happened, I reassured myself as I fled down the stairs, too impatient and charged with adrenaline to stand around waiting for an elevator.

  Out in the parking lot, I sucked in deep draughts of cold, clean air. If my lips didn’t tingle so and my heart wasn’t galloping and my underpants weren’t damp from desire, I could almost convince myself it hadn’t happened, that I hadn’t been seconds away from selling sex for cash.

  I climbed into my car, which started without a hitch for a change, and drove away, still kicking myself for being a fool. The worst part was I’d wanted to do it. Kissing Wyatt and being held in those strong arms, pressed against a muscled body, I’d lost control of myself. It had been like being sucked away from shore and all that was solid and familiar by a giant undertow.

  I had no doubt sex with Wyatt would have been fantastic. But the aftermath would have eaten away at me for maybe the rest of my life. Thank God for the kernel of sense that had clicked on inside me and illuminated exactly what I was doing. Travis and I had been in more desperate financial straits before. This was no time to sacrifice my self-respect for an easier way out.

  It’s over. No harm, no foul, I reminded myself again and focused on driving instead of replaying the evening and the feeling of Wyatt’s mouth pressed against mine. I drove up into the hills on hairpin switchback roads that wound higher and higher. There was a light dusting of snow near the top. Pavement gave way to dirt roads that grew increasingly slick as I neared home. It would be hell up here in winter. I wished I could live in the valley, closer to my work and to town. But the trailer park perched on the side of the hill was the only place I could afford. At least I had a good neighbor here to watch Travis while I worked. I didn’t know what I’d do without Carol Ann living nearby.

  I pulled into the park, which boasted only about a dozen mobile homes, all equally run-down and with tacked-on lean-tos and extensions to allow more living space. Dogs barked, announcing my return to our little community. I pulled up in front of my trailer, dirty white with teal trim that would
’ve been considered snazzy when it was brand-new back in the ’80s, and got out.

  The windows glowed, and smoke rose from the chimney of the woodstove that helped take the edge off my heating bills. Small but cozy. I’d lived in worse places, like that horrible apartment above a bar—Travis with colic and loud noise from below not giving him or me any rest. That had been my and Clay’s last hurrah, his last promise to get it together and my last time believing him. Nothing had changed, and living a stone’s throw from booze was the worst possible choice. Clay was down there every night until close, while I struggled to take care of our baby.

  It only took one time of Clay getting violent to send me packing. He didn’t come after us or show any interest in connecting with his son. He was glad to have our relationship over with and so was I. I didn’t bug him about child support, and made do on my own. Two years since then, and I was still struggling to keep my head above water, but I was surviving. And more important, Travis was thriving.

  I unlocked the door of the trailer and let myself in. Our neighborhood was friendly enough, but I always kept the door locked. I entered straight into the living room area. Carol Ann lay sound asleep on the couch, curled beneath a fuzzy blanket, the light from the almost mute TV playing over her face.

  I didn’t wake her but tiptoed through the kitchen and down the short hall to my son’s room. I crossed the small room in three steps and leaned over to press my hand against his forehead. He always burned like a little engine, but it felt a little hotter than normal to me, and his breathing was definitely congested. Poor little dude. I wanted to kiss his head still covered in baby soft curls, but I didn’t want to wake him. From what Carol Ann had said, he’d had a hard-won sleep tonight.

  The nightlight shone over Travis’s pudgy cheeks and coppery hair, and he looked like a cherub. A swell of emotion even stronger than the undertow that had knocked my legs out from under me in the motel room rushed through me. Travis was perfect and beautiful and all mine. I would do anything—check that, almost anything—to keep him safe, warm, and fed. I vowed he’d always know he had my unconditional love, no strings or stipulations like my grandma had placed on her feelings for me.