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Just then, I see a flash of blonde hair headed toward the exit of the club. Destiny.
I run after her, totally ignoring Chase calling after me. I don’t give a fuck what he’s saying right now. I need to catch Destiny before she leaves.
I reach her just as she starts to walk outside. Stretching out my hand, I clasp my fingers around her wrist.
“Destiny!”
She gasps and whirls around, her blue eyes wide, her hair floating around her face like some kind of halo. Like a fucking angel. A very naughty angel.
“Oh, hi,” she says, her voice coming out in a low whisper. “It’s you.”
She tries to pull her hand away, but I tighten my grip. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?” I tease.
She doesn’t say anything, just gives me a look that I don’t quite understand.
With the hand not holding on to her, I pull my phone from my pocket and unlock it. “What’s your number, baby? I can’t let you just walk out of here with no way to find you again.”
Destiny glances around the club like she’s looking for something, then tilts her head toward the open doorway. I follow her out, never releasing my grip on her soft wrist.
Once we’re outside, she still doesn’t look any less uncomfortable. She’s looking all around as if she thinks we’re being filmed, which of course, we probably are.
“Look, Destiny,” I say, moving in close to her, feeling an urge to pull her up against me and take that look of discomfort away from her. What the fuck is that about? “Now that your bit in the show is over and your work for ABN is done, I’d really like to get to know you.”
She lifts her head and searches my eyes. “What do you mean?”
I give her a slow smile. I mean all kinds of things. But I start with something simple. “Just that I really enjoyed my time with you tonight and I’d like to know more about you, separate from Head Hunter.”
She looks all around again and licks her lips nervously. I’m not quite sure what she’s thinking, but as long as she’s willing to not walk out of my life forever right now, I’m good with whatever it is.
Looking back at me, I can’t get any kind of read on her. Her face is blank, her eyes are like a mask, and I can’t tell if she’s even slightly interested. When she shrugs casually, I wonder if I totally misread what went on in the private room because I sure as hell got the impression that I wasn’t just some client.
“Fine,” she says quickly, grabbing my phone from me and typing in her number, and then hands it back to me, and starts to turn away.
“Hang on,” I say, holding the phone up to snap a picture of her. “For your contact,” I say when she arches a brow. Or for my spank bank. But she doesn’t need to know that.
She doesn’t say anything again, just gives me a look like she’s wondering if we’re through here yet. What the fuck? It’s like she’s totally not interested. Well, at least I got her number. She may not care right now, but I’m not about to let this be the end of whatever we started back in the private room.
I give her a sexy grin, the one that normally has women dropping their panties in a heartbeat. “Until next time, Destiny.”
She simply gives me one last indecipherable look, then spins on her heels and walks away.
Ashley
“Oh my god, Ashley, look at this one,” my friend Michelle squeals, pulling out a sexy little black dress and holding it out to me. This is the ultimate retail therapy.
Michelle and I go to Bergdorf Goodman for a little shopping on the regular, and today I need this girl time even more than usual. I’m about to go out of my mind waiting for Carter to call.
I take the dress and hold it up to myself, imagining what Carter might think when he sees me in it. Wondering if it’s sexy enough to make him want to see me out of it.
I bite my lip. “I don’t know, Michelle, is it hot and slutty enough?”
Michelle laughs. “Seriously? That dress screams do me now.”
I nod, not entirely convinced. “I just want to make sure it’s perfect. I know he’s going to call and ask me out.”
The way he looked
at me last night outside the strip club was fucking intense. I didn’t expect that from him at all. I had no idea how to handle it either. All the reasons I wanted to send Lorraine in for me in the first place were front and center in my head all night. I was hired to do a job, but I’m not feeling the least bit professional about it. Yeah, I want to fuck Carter—and that’s what I’m getting paid to do—but I can’t seem to compartmentalize my job from my feelings this time around. And I have no idea why.
