Read Online Full Mortality by Sasscer Hill - Free Book Online

cheap. Maybe the confidence and intelligence radiating from those brown eyes stopped disparaging thoughts cold.
    But here I sat in a shiny Jaguar, feeling pretty and rolling into the big night out. Definitely cool. The Jag’s engine purred as we motored downtown, city night lights reflecting off its silver hood. We pulled up to a ruby-colored awning with the words Coca Mocha lettered on the side in fancy gold script. A man dressed in white shirt and pants opened the car doors for Carla and me. A valet took the Jag and we went inside.
    The room held a spicy, exotic scent and glowed with low, warm lighting. Club music blasted, and a dance floor pulsed with male dancers in tight pants and women in eye-catching cleavage. Louis conferred with the maitre d’ and we were led away, past tables draped in ruby cloths, with candles burning in glittering red-and-gold jars. A woman in an astonishingly short skirt leaned over one table, using a miniature flame-thrower to light a man’s cigar. I hoped she didn’t lean over any further — I might embarrass myself by gawking. We rounded a corner and there, ensconced in a booth, lounged Clay Reed.
    I’d forgotten how good he looked. Tonight he’d dressed in black, dynamite with his blond hair, and those blue eyes lit with pleasure when he saw me. My stomach lurched and my tongue tied up, not that it mattered with the loud music. We settled into the booth, and I sat, thigh to thigh, with a guy that probably broke hearts on a regular basis.
    Clay ordered drinks, and the waiter returned with frosted glasses filled with pink foam, amber liquid and floating umbrellas. These things looked dangerous. I took a sip. Smooth and sweet, went down like honey. Definitely dangerous.
    The music broke, and a bald man in a white silk jacket approached our table. His eyes bulged slightly over a nose as large as a horse’s, only not as pretty. “Carla, sweetheart. Louis, a pleasure to see you.”
    Carla introduced him as Enrique, the Coca Mocha manager, and his gaze swept over us and came to rest on Carla with a look of adoration. Her blond hair tangled with the leopard print that stretched like skin over her chest and shoulders.
    “Darling, you always look so fabulous.” He turned to Clay and me. “This woman keeps our diners hungry for more. Her steaks and chops . . .” He rolled his protruding eyes toward the ceiling. “And her breasts. Carla, your breasts are so delicious.”
    “And for you, Enrique, they always will be,” Carla said, with a slow smile.
    I managed not to spit my drink out, but my eyes watered furiously. Carla glanced at me and burst out laughing.
    “Chicken breasts, Nikki. We’re talking about chicken breasts.”
    Yeah, right.
    Clay grinned. “Such an innocent,” he said. Come on, dance with me.”
    Since nobody has more aerobic stamina than a jockey, I wowed them on the dance floor. Besides, I’d acquired some good moves following my mom when she used to boogie around the rowhouse, where she weaned me on Little Feat and The Rolling Stones.
    Later, sated with drink, laughter, and dancing, I figured I’d never had a better time. Clay had been funny, sweet, and attentive, and had never once looked down the front of my dress. But he moved closer now, caught my eye, and slid one arm around my shoulders, fingers lightly grazing my skin. An electric connection jolted me.
    “You fascinated me the day I met you,” he said close to my ear. “Beauty and bravery is a hard combination to resist.”
    My tongue refused to make words. I think I smiled.
    “I’d like to talk to you, but this music. . . .,” he made a frustrated gesture with his hand. “There’s a place near here. You want to go?”
    Like wild horses could keep me away. “Sounds good.”
    Clay said something to Louis, who sent me a vague wave. I wanted to say goodbye to Carla, but she’d gone to powder her nose and Clay’s hand on my wrist was insistent. Outside a line to get into the dance club snaked