One Dance (The Club, #7)

One Dance

The Club

By Lexi Buchanan

One Dance Copyright © 2015 Lexi Buchanan

All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author.

Published by HFCA Publishing House

http://www.lexibuchanan.net

Editor: Sirena Van Schaik

Editor: Nadine Winningham

BETA Readers: Emma Clifton, Sonya Covert & Radka Höllmüller

This book is a written act of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

ISBN-13: 978-0-9933238-1-2

Title Page

Copyright Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue ~ 5 Years Later

M
averick was exhausted as he weaved and danced around the bag in front of him. The punches he kept throwing made hard thumping sounds that filled the room. He felt his body move without thought and his muscles groaned as he threw another round of strikes...one, two, three...jab, jab, cross, uppercut...repeat. He wanted to be so worn-out that his body and mind were exhausted and he could sleep without being plagued by his loneliness.

At thirty-eight, he had no one. He had a couple of close friends, all of them were married with children, and they considered him family, but who did he have to wake up to every morning—no one.

He was emotionally tired. So very tired. He wanted that one person to come home to everyday. He wanted that same person to snuggle down beside him every night and wake in his arms in the morning. In the past, he didn’t think it would be anything that he’d want, partially because he loved his own space, but recently he’d started to crave the companionship. It was so out of character for him that, at first, he’d been running scared. Now, he couldn’t get the idea out of his head.

His fist sliced through the air, connecting with the bag with a shuddering smack that sent it reeling around in its moorings. His gloved hand slid around the heavy bag to steady it before his body collapsed in exhaustion against it. He drew in deep breaths to slow his racing heart as he breathed in the scent of the leather. His arms felt as though they were weighed down with lead. He was slick with sweat and even his balls were coated as sweat ran down his groin. Grabbing a towel, he ran it over his face to wipe the sweat from his eyes so he could see his way to the lockers before his legs finally gave way and he ended up as a heap on the floor.

The workout tonight had been hard and fast. He was no lightweight, but he’d pushed himself beyond what he’d done before and he was tired...so damn tired.

He was ready to move on. He’d been ready for a month now, but something had held him here in Karim, Texas.

One of his friends had asked him when he was going to Montana because that was Maverick’s dream. Good parents on a small ranch in rural Montana had raised him, and although the ranch was no longer in his family, he’d always intended on going back to settle down.

The fact that he was single, and always had been, meant that he had minimal expenses, so he’d saved a good chunk of his wages over the past twenty years giving him a large savings account for when he was ready.

Unfortunately, whenever he thought about making that final move, his gut would tell him to hold off. It was as though it knew something was about to happen. But what?

Karim was an up and coming town now that new developments had sprung up and renovations had been done to the older buildings. They were using the French Quarter of New Orleans during its prime as a picture of what they wanted for the town’s future. He couldn’t complain because he had to admit that he loved walking through the older part of town, which had been completed some time ago. It gave him peace. Then why was he so unsettled?

Because he was lonely
.

He was a sorry ass.

He needed to be more approachable. But it was hard and had been for many years—ever since he’d gotten the ugly looking scar that practically covered one side of his face. He’d been on a mission with his unit that had gone badly. The jagged-edged knife used on him made a mess of his cheek. He hated it. He was still self-conscious about it. Though, sometimes he did use it to his advantage, especially when he was pissed and needed his word followed. But he had a habit of turning away when a beautiful woman tried to talk to him, unless he was really in the mood for a good fuck, then he could charm the panties off a nun.

Perhaps he needed to get laid, and that was why he felt so unsettled. It had been a hell of a long time since he’d been between the thighs of a woman.

He stepped out of the showers, wrapped a towel around his waist and shook his head. His heart didn’t want a one-night stand. He wanted something more permanent.

Drying himself off, he dressed in slacks, button down and blazer. The deep red tie he fastened around his neck felt like a noose. He hated ties. And if he was truthful, he’d started to get tired of his job at The Club. It paid well, and the bosses were damn good to their employees and their members, but there again, he felt something was missing.

Some of the guys he worked with carried around a permanent erection while they were on shift. One of the bar staff even admitted that he dashed home every night and woke his wife up to burn off the energy from work.

Working in an exclusive BDSM club may not be ideal for everyone, but he’d served twelve years in the Marines so he was used to controlling his body’s reaction to certain situations. At The Club however, he hadn’t even tried to control himself and still didn’t react the way a lot of the guys did while working their shifts.

Perhaps there was something wrong with him.

He chuckled to himself as he dropped his ass to the bench and leaned over to fasten his shoes. There wasn’t anything wrong with him, his dick worked just fine when he rubbed one off. That had been awhile as well.

He sighed deeply. His shift at The Club started in an hour and he knew that tonight would be his last. He’d lose money for not working out his notice, but he’d had enough.

Regardless of his gut telling him to stay, he was going to hand in his notice at the end of his shift that night. Within a few days, he’d be in Montana.

He’d held off on following his dream, but no more. He wanted a different life and he was about to get one.

“P
lease don’t go,” Chloe, Emma’s five-year-old sister, begged as she wrapped her arms around Emma’s legs.

Emma held back her tears as she turned and hugged her sister. “I don’t have a choice, baby girl.” She smoothed her hand down Chloe’s blonde locks hating the situation that she’d been put in.

“I know,” Chloe moaned. “At least Janie will be here to look after me. She’s fun.” Chloe bounced away from Emma, probably already forgotten that she didn’t want Emma to leave for the evening
.

Emma really didn’t want to go out with her boss, Jeffrey Dahlin, tonight, but with the way he’d phrased the invite, it left no room for refusal. He’d made it clear that if she refused she didn’t have to bother showing up for work on Monday.

With Emma being left the soul guardian of her sister after their parents’ untimely death, money was tight. There were also medical bills for Chloe piling up due to her asthma.

But apart from
him,
Emma loved her job at Dahlin, Dahlin & Associates Law Firm in the town of Karim, Texas. Most days, Mr. Dahlin was too busy to take a personal interest in her, but for the past week he’d been too attentative. He made her feel very uneasy, and although she’d been ready for his invitation yesterday, she hadn’t wanted it.

Jeffrey Dahlin was in his fifties. When she’d first met him, she’d liked him in a way that one liked a boss. He was efficient and known for being a hell of a lawyer. He had a distinguished air about him. He was tall to Emma’s five foot six, and he had the onset of grey around his temples. His suits and shirts were always pressed, not a wrinkle in sight, and she was sure that he thought he was a catch. And maybe to some women he was, but she’d seen nothing but an older man who was respected in his field. Now, he made her stomach turn, which started the moment he began showering her with attention.

She liked to think that her working relationship with her boss was a good one, which is why she couldn’t decide just when he’d started to show an interest in her. She’s never done anything to cause a change in his attitude, and she certainly hadn’t dressed any differently.

Marie, Mr. Peter Dahlin’s personal assistant, had told Emma that Jeffrey Dahlin liked his women young, but that Emma should be all right considering he loved blonde hair. Emma had dark brown hair that touched her bottom when she wore it loose. How wrong was Marie? If it weren’t for Chloe, she would have told him what to do with his offer. It had been on the tip of her tongue, but she’d caught herself at the last minute.

Because of her situation, she’d said yes just as Mr. Dahlin had known she would. The
bastard
. And that was why she had spent the best part of an hour worrying about it while she tried to make one of her outfits work.

It had been so long since she’d gone out with a man, and while she was getting herself ready, she told herself that she shouldn’t make such an effort.

In the end, she hated herself for the fancy underwear she’d chosen. There was no way he would get a chance to see it, but it made Emma feel better knowing that, although her dress was drab, she was sexy underneath.

Tonight wasn’t a date; it was work. She needed to remember that little fact and she’d be good. It was a work
date
with her boss, who would never see what was under her clothes.

As she inhaled and exhaled a few times she finally felt settled. She needed to keep a façade of a prickly young woman in place in an effort to send Dahlin packing without him firing her. Emma could hope that he would get fed-up and want to end the evening early.

Holding a hand on her stomach to calm the butterflies flying around inside her belly, she glanced at the clock on her bedroom wall.

She had ten minutes before he arrived.

She fluffed her dark curls with her fingers before fastening her locks in a secure manner to the top of her head. She let some loose strands settle around her face before she applied pink lip-gloss.

Hearing running feet down the hallway, Emma turned just in time to watch her sister—who came flying into her bedroom at full speed—land on the bed. Luckily, the clothes that Emma had all over the bed earlier had been put away so there wasn’t much of a mess for Chloe to make.