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Authors: Julie Kenner
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small antique desk just inside the doors. “Ms. Hart and Mr. Kline are prospective members.”
“Thank you, Mr. Daley,” she says, standing. She projects competence and efficiency, and matches those attributes with a welcoming smile. “I’ll take good care of them.”
Our escort inclines his head, and then leaves the way we came in. I’m sorry to see him go, because now we are here, and I’m still not entirely sure where “here” is. And I’m certainly not sure why I’ve been invited.
“I’m Tanya,” the girl says. “Why don’t I show you around?”
“I’ll take care of that, Tanya.”
The voice comes from behind, but I know that it is him before I even turn around. The man from the bar. Not the one with tattoos, but the other one. The familiar one. I know because of the way my skin prickles. Because of the heat that seems to buzz in the air.
And when I do turn around to face him—when I see that it is not Tanya who has his attention but me—I know that I am not the only one who feels the explosion that is building between us.
“Of course, Mr. Greer.” Tanya smiles at him, then nods to Brayden and me before returning to her desk. And in that moment, the spell breaks, and when Mr. Greer turns his attention to Brayden and holds out his hand, I am starting to doubt that I’d felt anything odd at all.
“I’m Malcolm Greer,” he says, shaking Brayden’s hand as he smiles at both of us. “I’m one of the owners of Dark Pleasures.”
Malcolm . That name again, just as it had whispered through my mind at the theater. And those eyes—oh, Christ, he has the storm gray eyes of the man from my dream.
“Thank you for the invitation,” Brayden is saying.
I say nothing—instead, I am staring at Malcolm Greer, wondering who he is and why I seem to feel him so strongly. Why I know his name. His eyes.
Thinking that we should never have come here tonight, because he is a man I could fall for, and I don’t want to fall for any man. Worrying that something is happening here that I don’t understand, something that I should know, but somehow can’t remember.
And I’m suddenly cold and just a little afraid, because I am my mother’s daughter, and I don’t want to be like her, living in a world of fantasies and conspiracies and shadows, always afraid that—
“Ms. Hart?” I hear the concern in Malcolm’s voice, and snap back to myself.
“Yes,” I blurt. “Sorry.”
I take a deep breath and will myself to breathe slowly. To calm down. I’m being absurd, and I know it. The man is familiar; so what? He’s so damn good looking he probably reminds me of a celebrity. And as for that name—well, that is obviously just a coincidence. It’s not that unusual a name, after all.
“Jay? Are you okay?”
“Of course,” I say. “Just light headed.” I turn my attention back to Malcolm. “And I also want to thank you for the invitation. Although I suppose I owe Brayden thanks, too. I mean, when you get right down to it, he’s the real reason I’m here.” I realize as soon as I’ve spoken that it’s a stupid thing to say. Typical, though, as I babble when I get nervous. And Malcolm Greer makes me very nervous.
Right now, he’s looking at me with such an odd expression, that I feel even more foolish.
“Ms. Hart,” he says, with a strange little smile. “I believe you have it backwards. Mr. Kline is here because of you.”
Chapter 8
‡
“M e?” I laugh, then glance at Brayden. Like me, he looks as if he’s expecting a punch line.
“You,” Malcolm says. His voice is flat, but I see what I think is humor in his eyes. “Is that so hard to believe?”
“Honestly? Yes.” I look around the room, now even more edgy than I’d been before. He must be teasing me—lord knows there’s no reason that I would be on the radar of an exclusive private club. But all that does is underscore the strange sensation that I know this man from somewhere. And since I’m drawing a blank, my
“Thank you, Mr. Daley,” she says, standing. She projects competence and efficiency, and matches those attributes with a welcoming smile. “I’ll take good care of them.”
Our escort inclines his head, and then leaves the way we came in. I’m sorry to see him go, because now we are here, and I’m still not entirely sure where “here” is. And I’m certainly not sure why I’ve been invited.
“I’m Tanya,” the girl says. “Why don’t I show you around?”
“I’ll take care of that, Tanya.”
The voice comes from behind, but I know that it is him before I even turn around. The man from the bar. Not the one with tattoos, but the other one. The familiar one. I know because of the way my skin prickles. Because of the heat that seems to buzz in the air.
And when I do turn around to face him—when I see that it is not Tanya who has his attention but me—I know that I am not the only one who feels the explosion that is building between us.
“Of course, Mr. Greer.” Tanya smiles at him, then nods to Brayden and me before returning to her desk. And in that moment, the spell breaks, and when Mr. Greer turns his attention to Brayden and holds out his hand, I am starting to doubt that I’d felt anything odd at all.
“I’m Malcolm Greer,” he says, shaking Brayden’s hand as he smiles at both of us. “I’m one of the owners of Dark Pleasures.”
Malcolm . That name again, just as it had whispered through my mind at the theater. And those eyes—oh, Christ, he has the storm gray eyes of the man from my dream.
“Thank you for the invitation,” Brayden is saying.
I say nothing—instead, I am staring at Malcolm Greer, wondering who he is and why I seem to feel him so strongly. Why I know his name. His eyes.
Thinking that we should never have come here tonight, because he is a man I could fall for, and I don’t want to fall for any man. Worrying that something is happening here that I don’t understand, something that I should know, but somehow can’t remember.
And I’m suddenly cold and just a little afraid, because I am my mother’s daughter, and I don’t want to be like her, living in a world of fantasies and conspiracies and shadows, always afraid that—
“Ms. Hart?” I hear the concern in Malcolm’s voice, and snap back to myself.
“Yes,” I blurt. “Sorry.”
I take a deep breath and will myself to breathe slowly. To calm down. I’m being absurd, and I know it. The man is familiar; so what? He’s so damn good looking he probably reminds me of a celebrity. And as for that name—well, that is obviously just a coincidence. It’s not that unusual a name, after all.
“Jay? Are you okay?”
“Of course,” I say. “Just light headed.” I turn my attention back to Malcolm. “And I also want to thank you for the invitation. Although I suppose I owe Brayden thanks, too. I mean, when you get right down to it, he’s the real reason I’m here.” I realize as soon as I’ve spoken that it’s a stupid thing to say. Typical, though, as I babble when I get nervous. And Malcolm Greer makes me very nervous.
Right now, he’s looking at me with such an odd expression, that I feel even more foolish.
“Ms. Hart,” he says, with a strange little smile. “I believe you have it backwards. Mr. Kline is here because of you.”
Chapter 8
‡
“M e?” I laugh, then glance at Brayden. Like me, he looks as if he’s expecting a punch line.
“You,” Malcolm says. His voice is flat, but I see what I think is humor in his eyes. “Is that so hard to believe?”
“Honestly? Yes.” I look around the room, now even more edgy than I’d been before. He must be teasing me—lord knows there’s no reason that I would be on the radar of an exclusive private club. But all that does is underscore the strange sensation that I know this man from somewhere. And since I’m drawing a blank, my
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