Taking the Score (7 page)

She stood, intending the gesture as an end to the cozy chat. “I don’t have to go back to the club until tomorrow, so it’ll give me time to figure some things out.” Like how to get Katerina to teach her some moves that might make her money. Now that she’d taken the plunge, the next time wouldn’t be so hard.
The lies we tell ourselves.
“I’d assumed I was out on my ear, which is why I’m not dressed appropriately.”

That drew his gaze in a heated rake over her body, and memories of last night flooded the space between them. She felt as if she’d been touched in an intimate way and enjoyed it far too much.

“Take the morning off. Come back in this afternoon.”

She was already moving toward the door. “I don’t need to do that. I can be back by the start of the workday at nine.”

“Emma, this isn’t over.”

She froze, her heart following suit. “What isn’t?”

“You know.” He gave her his back, terminating the conversation before she could dare question what exactly he meant by that.

Chapter Eight

Brody stormed into Flynn’s office and slammed the door so hard the window overlooking the Chicago River rattled. Flynn looked up from his phone, evidently recognized that Brody was more pissed than average, and said, “Gotta bounce,” to whoever was on the end of the line.

“To what do I owe the pleasure,
Mr. Kane
?”

“I should cut off your balls and make you a steer, Cross.”

Flynn frowned. “Now, that’s not very nice.”

“You gave me that strip club card. And every month that bullshit with the condom—”

“So you used the card, then?” He was clearly trying not to laugh. “Or maybe the condom?”

No condom necessary, not when all rational thought flees your brain and your cock is running the bases.

“How long have you known about Emma?”

Flynn’s eyebrow scooted up. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you call her by her first name. I guess it takes seeing someone in a brand-new environment to recognize possibilities you might not have considered before.”

“
How. Long
.”

“A couple of weeks. I was there with the guys from the Tokyo group, and I’ll tell ya, those kickers know how to party. Now that Hunter’s an old married man and I can’t rely on you because you’ve got a telegraph pole up your ass, it was left to me to entertain the clients at Club Girl.” He shook his head. “That name is fucking perfect, isn’t it? Straight to the point with the sleaze.”

At Brody’s step forward with fists clenched, he rushed on. “
So
, there I was in the VIP lounge and who should I see slingin’ cocktails but our own Emma. At least she wasn’t on the pole, but hell, things must be bad if she needs to moonlight there. Isn’t the compensation package at Score Property good enough?”

“She’s paying off some debts.”

“So, you talked to her.”

Brody took a seat and propped his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands. So Emma had been telling the truth about it being her first night as a stripper.
Her last night
, if Brody had any say in this.

Flynn made a noise of disgust. “Shit, you didn’t fire her, did you? Because I’m pretty sure that’s not going to fly with the Human Resources department.”

Meaning their HR department of one with Emma Strickland, sole employee. They’d entrusted her with all the admin hiring because she was so damn good.

“No, I didn’t fire her.” He just punished her by impaling her to the wall with his cock. The one now hardening in memory. “She insists on continuing to work there. She won’t let me help.”

Flynn snorted. “That’s a change.”

Brody shrugged his agreement. He was used to money-grubbing women, so when Emma didn’t jump at the chance for him to wipe out her debt, it surprised him. That stubborn, independent streak was as much a turn-on as her ruthless efficiency and unflappability. Not to mention those gorgeous legs and beautiful breasts and hot, tight— Fuck, his mind needed to take a permanent vacation from those illicit thoughts, yet he couldn’t
not
do something about her situation.

Flynn eyed him, looking like he had something smug at the ready. “Couldn’t help but notice that she’s got a great pair of legs. Shame she hides it under those acres of material.”

“You ever hear that expression ‘don’t eat where you sleep,’ Cross?”

“I would think sleeping would be the last thing on your mind while you’re eating,” Flynn shot back with a dirty grin.

Her mouth had tasted so damn sweet that Brody couldn’t help the raft of X-rated images that consumed his brain in an inferno. Licking, sucking, eating out that sweet, pliant flesh between her insanely gorgeous thighs. Now he’d had an appetizer, he was ready to indulge in multiple courses.

Looking up, he found Flynn grinning like he knew all Brody’s secrets. Not so far from the truth, since his friend had lived with Brody’s family after his dad kicked him out at fifteen.

“Not gonna blab, then, Mr. Kane?”

Brody was tempted to tell him that the first rule about strip club was no one talks about strip club. He’d never been the kind of guy who bragged about his conquests, and his shame at his loss of control beat out the male satisfaction at bringing Emma off like a rocket. He also suspected that Emma would not appreciate being the subject of office gossip.

“She’s off-limits. Always has been, always will be. But I need to fix it so she doesn’t work at that club anymore.”

“My experience is that women don’t enjoy being told where they can and cannot work.” Flynn leaned back in his chair and twiddled a pen. “You know what we do when we want something badly enough?”

A kernel of an idea unfurled in his brain. “Outbid, outflank, or outsmart.”

Flynn smiled. “Knew there was a reason why you’ve got all that extra gray matter.”

As Brody left, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Seeing the caller ID piqued his curiosity. Listening to the voice on the other end of the line had him surprised. By the time the practically one-sided conversation had come to a close, Brody’s plan for Emma Strickland had taken a leave of absence from his brain.

…

Brody lived on the sixtieth floor of the same building as Score Property’s offices, and as the luxury-bound elevator rocketed Emma to the top, her pulse shot skyward with it. She checked her phone again:

The penthouse. Now.

That’s all his text said. She’d been on her way back from a coffee run for the girls—
nothing for me, I can only afford the aroma, thanks
—when the abrupt message came in.

Security on the residential side of the building had known to expect her. The elevator came to a smooth, moneyed stop, and the doors split apart to reveal a roomy foyer. Her senses were tantalized by fresh-cut flowers, the cost of which probably could have fed Emma and her cat for a month. Beautifully appointed furniture and an Oriental rug solidified the impression of understated, yet undeniable luxury. And that was what was going on
outside
the penthouse.

Faced with such surreal opulence, a dizzy spell came over her. Somehow, she had managed to cling to her day job, this one constant, while everything else crashed around her ears. What if Brody had changed his mind? Found some loophole that would have her out on her shiny-shorts-covered ass before the day was through?

What if she never saw him again?

Inward mental shake
. How ludicrous. She was thrift-store Dumpster diving; he was designer-label personal shopping. What had happened between them was a product of proximity and her inner bad girl trumping the woman she was trying to become. So what if the man could yield orgasms with a steely-eyed look through those sex-nerd glasses. Orgasms were a dime a dozen. Well-paying, respectable jobs were thinner on the ground.

She knocked on the door with a quick rap. Not too soft. Not too hard. Goldilocks would have given her a freakin’ medal.

The door opened quickly and there he stood, looking so handsome her eggs shrieked in pleasure. He’d lost the battle with his tie-as-a-noose and pulled open the top two buttons of his shirt. His glasses sat slightly askew. Her fingers itched to straighten them, but then he did it himself and squinted. As if he needed to ensure he could see her properly.

“Come in,” he said, his tone clipped.

“Is everything okay?”

He walked into the—
holy chalk, that’s a lot of white
—living room with the clear expectation that she would follow. She tracked the direction of his raised arm, now pointing to a spot on a pristine, ivory wool hearthrug.

Home to a tiny turd.

“Recognize it?”

From her vantage point, it had no visible markings and looked like well, shit. She took a few steps forward, then thought better of it.

“Do I recognize the piece of shit lying on your rug?”

“You should, as it belongs to a friend of yours.”

Oh, turd.
“He’s—he’s here? Where? Is he scared?”

“No, he’s not scared. He’s using my home as a toilet.” Furious, he rubbed his forehead. “Could you explain to me why there is a shitting cat, a suitcase full of clothes, and what looks like a makeshift bed in a storeroom at Score Property?”

Emma had heard that in moments like this your life flashes before your eyes, and while that may be true, she would have hoped the recap would be more pleasant. She definitely could have done without the memory of her father being hauled away by the cops for the fifth or tenth time, or the moment she found Daisy unconscious on the bathroom floor with a needle dangling from her arm. And the more recent memory of coming home from work two days ago to find her locks had been changed by her douche bag of a landlord could die and go to hell.

Staying in an unused storeroom below Score Property’s offices with broken printers, ancient shredders, and fifties-era metal fans while she was “between” apartments had never been part of her life plan, but sometimes you had to make do. Ray’s constant demands had tapped out her savings, and as the months had worn on, and her earnings at the club hadn’t materialized to Ray’s satisfaction, she’d given more and more of her regular salary over. The result was a slip further into debt until she couldn’t make rent.

The only bill she couldn’t surrender was her phone. She needed it to stay in touch with Daisy, and it was the one thing Brody would be suspicious of if she no longer had it. He liked to check in when he had things he needed her to pick up on the way to work.

Brody was speaking, no doubt asking very legitimate questions about how it had come to pass that a hobo camp had been set up in his backyard, but she was no longer paying attention to him. Moving around, she hunkered down and peered under the furniture. Fear placed her on the defensive.

“You’d better not have frightened him. Kevin is very highly strung.”

“Your cat’s called Kevin?”

Ignoring him, she crept along the edges of the sofa on her knees, searching for her frightened kitty. “Kevin, where are you?” A pair of demonic eyes stared out at her from beneath a white Barcalounger.

“There you are! Here, baby, come to Mama.”

Kevin hissed. Emma sensed another bowel movement in his immediate future.

“Please, Kev. I’m here now. I’m sorry I left you for so long.” Over her shoulder, she found Brody riveted to her hitched-high ass.

“Really?”

“Yet again, you’re shoving your ass in my general direction and questioning my reaction.”

Okay, she’d give him that.

Kevin chose her moment of distraction to make a dash for it and whizzed by her. With surprising reflexes, Brody caught Kevin and bundled him in his arms. Her terrified kitty struggled and scratched.

“God, I hate cats,” Brody said absently, but he held a firm grip. Not overly tight, but solidly enough to calm Kevin’s squirming little body.

“He doesn’t do well around strangers. Especially when they profess hatred for his species.”

“So you keep him locked up in a storeroom with a suitcase for company? It seems you have more revelations to amaze me with, Emma, and you’d better start now.”

Instead of coming clean, she sidestepped like the pro she was. “How did you find him?”

“One of the security guys heard something and when he investigated, the cat went a little nuts.”

“How nuts?” She stared at Kevin, dreading what she was going to hear.

“To hear Security’s take on it, he aimed for the jugular like the Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog.”

“The what?”

That adorable crimp she wanted to smooth with her tongue appeared between Brody’s eyes. “
Monty Python and the Holy Grail
. There’s this scene where an innocent-looking bunny attacks King Arthur and his knights…” He trailed off with a cough. “Your cat attacked and when Security finally got him under control, they discovered a suitcase with your name on the label and assorted shredded clothing.”

Oh, Kevin.

“He also pissed all over them.”

“Kev, I was about to come visit you with—” The full force of Brody’s words struck her. “Did you say he pissed all over my clothes? After he
shredded
them?”

“I
so
hate to be nosy, Emma, but maybe you could tell me how your insane feline and ripped-up, cat-piss-stained clothing came to be hanging tight with a bunch of obsolete office equipment in your place of work?”

“It’s complicated.”

No shit,
his expression said before he added a brusque, “Explain.”

“I live in a garden apartment and it flooded a week ago.”

“There’s been no rain.”

“The exterminator said it would be two days.”

Through his sexy specs, he looked down his nose at her. “I can stand here all day.”

She bit down on her lip, realizing that she had nothing left to lose. Her dignity was in shreds along with her clothes. Her sister was in rehab and she owed sixteen thousand dollars to an asshole. She had ground her ass on her boss in a strip club, then invited him to screw her stupid. Her misery index was at an all-time low.

She walked over and with great care, extracted Kevin from Brody’s arms. Their fingers brushed, and while any other day that would have fired every neuron of her body in appreciation, right this minute, she felt the opposite of sexy.

Emma, you have redefined the meaning of loser.

Sitting down on an immaculate leather sofa in an immaculately furnished penthouse, facing an immaculately dressed billionaire, she pondered how best to phrase her fall.

“I lost my lease two days ago so I’ve been staying in that storeroom until I can find a new place.”

He sat in an armchair, concern bracketing his mouth. “Emma, how did this happen?”

“I’ve run into some money trouble and it just crept up on me. I promise I will be out of there today.” She held Kevin tighter.
Do not cry, girl.
“A friend has offered to let me stay with her for a while. I was planning to get my stuff together and move in by tonight.”

“And why didn’t you turn to this friend sooner?”

Heat flamed her cheeks. She had. Katerina was in the process of breaking up with her live-in shithead boyfriend so that safe haven was on hold.