Читать книгу Secret Pleasure - Taryn Leigh Taylor - Страница 10

JEE-ZUS.

Aidan Beckett took a long swallow of his beer.

He didn’t know how the fuck it had happened, but he was half-hard for the leggy blonde with the tiny butterfly tattooed on her ribs who’d just seduced him in a room full of people.

He’d never seen a burlesque show before. It was different from strippers. The women had a spark to them. No dead eyes and rote movements. There was joy on the stage. Cheekiness. Playfulness that made you feel like you and the performer were sharing some sort of inside joke, even if you couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

He’d been scanning the bar, half cursing his PI for sending him here on a wild-goose chase, half following the dance moves of some redhead in sparkly lingerie shimmying around and mugging prettily about diamonds being a girl’s best friend.

Then the audience had erupted in appreciative cheers, and he’d glanced at his watch as the emcee of the evening introduced the next performer.

That’s when she’d appeared.

Lola Mariposa.

There’d been something...electric about her, something that transcended the mile-long legs. The way she danced. Hell, the way she’d looked at him. Before they’d made eye contact, he would have sworn she didn’t even care that she had an audience. She looked like she had a secret she wasn’t about to share.

She might be dancing, like the performers before her. She might be saucily removing most of her clothes, like the performers before her. But unlike like the performers before her, there was something aloof about her, a definite “you should be so lucky” vibe, and he’d liked it.

But then, Aidan had always liked a challenge.

When their eyes had locked, something had pulsed between them.

Attraction.

Desire.

She’d ensnared him and she knew it. Reveled in it. It was one of the sexiest damn things he’d ever seen.

The kick of lust had caught him off guard. He’d been in a dark place lately. Too dark a place to put the effort into seducing someone. So he’d been making do, tiring himself out at the gym and in the boxing ring, and rubbing one out when the need arose. But for the first time in a long time, his hand seemed like a poor substitution for a down-and-dirty fuck.

The burlesque dancer had made him realize how much he’d missed sex—the give and take, the heat and friction, that release. She’d unwrapped her body and his libido at the same time.

He pushed away from the rough beam at his back and set his half-empty beer bottle on the tray of a passing waitress.

If it was any other night, he might have sought Lola out. Explored that pulse of want that had crackled between them. But tonight, he had business to attend to.

He’d come to the club looking for someone, but the minute he’d pulled his bike into the parking lot, he’d known the intel was shit.

Little Kaylee Jayne Whitfield, apple of her mother’s watchful eye, wouldn’t set foot in a burlesque club on the edge of downtown LA. But the PI he’d hired to track her down was the best, and he said he’d seen her car here on Friday nights for the last month.

No silver Audis had graced the parking lot when Aidan had arrived tonight. But his curiosity had him walking inside for Booze and Burlesque Friday anyway. He’d dropped Kaylee’s name, and a fifty-dollar bill, but the bartender hadn’t heard of her. A quick survey of the patronage hadn’t panned out any better.

He needed to have a word with his intel guy.

Aidan pulled his phone out of his leather jacket and headed for the side door of the club. Ignoring the Emergency Exit Only warning stuck to the door in peeling red letters, he pushed through into the parking lot, wedging one of his riding gloves between the door and the jamb. He’d go back in and do a final sweep of the club before he called it a night.

“What’s up, Aidan?”

“That’s what I want to know. You’re sure this is where you saw the car? Because it’s not the kind of place a Whitfield would normally frequent.”

He remembered a young Kaylee, her dark, shiny hair twisted in a bun, her mother forever dragging her to ballet class or violin lessons. This place was definitely not her style. Too seedy for matriarch Sylvia, not fucking seedy enough for patriarch Charles. There’d been a time when he could have talked Max out of his country-club ways and into a night of debauched fun at a place like this—but that felt like a lifetime ago.

Aidan shook off the inconvenient memory and focused on the phone call.

“I told you predictive stuff wasn’t a hundred percent. But yeah, it was her car. She’s been showing up at that address on Friday nights like clockwork.”

Aidan raked his fingers through his shaggy hair, shoving it back from his forehead. “I’ll do one more lap, but if I can’t find her, we’re going to need a plan B.”

“Well, she’s pretty consistent with her time at the gym, but I’m leaning toward the coffee shop. Her regular haunt starts construction on Monday, and with a coffee habit like hers, I think she’ll find a new place for her caffeine fix. I’m running numbers on her most likely deviation now.”

Damn. This was getting too complicated.

That’s exactly why plan A was for him to “accidentally” run into Kaylee tonight, play the “old friends” card, and hope his ongoing feud with her brother wouldn’t deter her from accepting his offer to take her to dinner tomorrow. From there, installing the malware on her phone and downloading a copy of the app should be easy. According to his sources, she was one of five people that Max had trusted to test the prototype version of SecurePay, the digital cryptocurrency app that was poised to take Whitfield Industries to the next level.

Actually, plan A had been to buy the damn SecurePay app legally and have his guys pull it apart to find the string of code he needed to prove Max had violated the exclusivity clause in his contract with John Beckett. Unfortunately, thanks to a security breach, the launch of Whitfield Industries’ flagship tech had been scrapped at the last minute. So now if Aidan wanted to gain the rights to his father’s legacy, he’d have to improvise.

“Let me know what you come up with.”

“Will do.”

He hung up and glanced over at his bike, pulling a hand down his face.

Jesus, he hated this covert bullshit.

You have a problem with someone, you tell them to their fucking face.

Like you’re doing right now? his conscience asked.

Aidan frowned.

He had no choice. Right now was when the stars had aligned.

Charles Whitfield had been indicted for blackmailing a key member of the SecurePay team, Emma something-or-other, and Aidan was damn sure it wasn’t the first time. Because five years ago, the same day he’d died, Aidan’s dad had signed away all rights to the code that represented the pinnacle of his life’s work, a move so out of character that coercion was the only explanation that made any sense.

No way in hell was he going to let Max rule from on high, poised to make billions by commandeering tech that existed only because of John Beckett’s genius. Besides, he thought darkly, there was a certain poetic justice to using the only Whitfield who meant anything to Max—the shy, studious girl who’d stared at Aidan with hearts in her eyes, the intense, focused woman who currently served as her brother’s PR consigliere—to take him down.

Yes. Kaylee was the nuclear option—the quickest, most brutal way to ruin Whitfield Industries the way Whitfield Industries had ruined his father.

And Aidan wasn’t in the mood to wait.

“Damn it.”

Kaylee pulled her hand from her bag to find it covered in liquid foundation. Her jeans were coated in beige, her white T-shirt splotched with it. So much for a fast getaway. She’d been hoping to change and sneak out as quickly as possible. Fooling Aidan from a distance was one thing, but she didn’t want to tempt fate by running into him again.

She laughed at herself as she flipped the light switch in the tiny backstage bathroom with her elbow. As if Aidan would be looking for her at all. Unlike her, he’d spent the majority of their youth completely unaware of her status as a member of the opposite sex. She stuck her makeupy hands beneath the tap, washing the mess from her skin.

She remembered the first time she’d seen him. He’d stolen her breath, throwing her long-held beliefs that boys were gross and cooties were a fate worse than death right out the proverbial window. A golden boy with shaggy hair and a leather jacket. He’d been fifteen to her eleven, and she’d thought he was the coolest guy she’d ever met. So different than Max’s other friends. There was something rough about him, more dangerous than the country-club jerks she’d grown up with. But the best thing about Aidan was that he never ignored her. And sometimes, when Max was busy doing something for their parents, Aidan would talk to her, tell her stories full of adventure—races he’d won, fights he’d started, the trips he planned to take.

Her crush had only intensified with puberty, and by the time she was fourteen, she was counting down the days until Max and Aidan came home from university on break. By then, his boyish promise had been realized, and Aidan had grown into his cocky swagger. He didn’t just have the attitude anymore but a muscled body that could back it up. Kaylee had been mesmerized.

By that point, Max was a cool, distant stranger, but Aidan still made time to greet her, tell her a story, flirt a little. At least she’d thought it was flirting, until one fateful evening when she’d come home from studying at the library to find Max was having a get-together. Kaylee had witnessed firsthand what real flirting was like when she’d covertly watched Aidan and their neighbor Natasha wrapped in each other’s arms, indulging in the kind of kissing that Kaylee had only seen in movies. She’d fled from the passionate scene with a heavy heart, made heavier when she’d heard that Aidan had gone on to seduce the pretty blonde right out of her bikini. Or at least that was the story as Natasha had told it later that summer.

Her hero worship of her brother’s best friend had taken a big hit after that, and to punish Aidan for the transgression of not waiting for her, Kaylee had done her teenage best to treat him with polite disdain. Trouble was, he hadn’t even noticed.

And she’d realized for the first time that her crush had been one-sided. It had broken her infatuated little heart.

By the time she was sixteen, they were nothing more than polite acquaintances, discussing things no deeper than how school was going and summer plans. But he was still the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

Tonight, though. Tonight, Aidan had looked at her like he’d looked at Natasha all those years ago. With heat. With lust.

And it had felt incredibly good to inspire something other than pleasantness in him. Even if he had no idea she was the one doing it. She knew it, and she would let the rush of it wash over her for a long time.

After shutting off the taps, she dried her hands with some paper towels and headed back to the dressing area. One of the other girls loaned her a simple black jersey skirt, and she donned it before stuffing herself back into her corset.

She’d sneak out the side door and wait outside until her Uber arrived to take her home. Of all the nights not to drive herself. But last Friday, one of the other performers had let her know some creep had been checking out her Audi, and Kaylee had decided it might be safer to get a ride this week. A woman couldn’t be too careful.

She skirted along the billiards area, glad that most of the attention remained on the stage, and Ginger Merlot’s performance, where it belonged.

She was almost at the side door, almost all the way to freedom, but she couldn’t resist a final backward glance at the man who’d made tonight one to remember. The pillar would probably block most of him, but she tried to discern the sleeve of his jacket from the post anyway. The creaky metal door to her right swung open and the sound stole her attention a split second before she slammed into someone. Someone big and solid. Someone wearing a leather jacket. Someone whose strong hands steadied her, warm against her arms.

She recognized the scent of him on a primal level.

His proximity did funny things to her pulse.

She couldn’t look away.

Neither of them said anything.

It took her a moment to realize he was still holding her, that she should pull back. But as she looked up at the man who’d starred in many of her girlish fantasies, she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. Because the rush of hormones and lust, the thrill of being so close to him and having him looking at her that way—like he felt some of the maelstrom of desire churning in her belly—was heady...like a wet dream come true.

And suddenly she wanted that dream. Wanted it desperately.

The seductive siren song of rebellion wound its way through her bloodstream.

What would it hurt?

He obviously hadn’t connected her alter ego with her real self. And there was no reason he should.

It was a great wig. She had her contacts in.

Why shouldn’t they both have what they wanted?

And he wanted her. She could feel it in the flex of his hands on her skin the second before he let go of her. Could see it in the flare of his eyes, the tightening of his jaw.

And she definitely wanted him. Always had. But there was nothing girlish about it anymore. It was a triple-X, adult-content-warning kind of want.

Kaylee was high on the rush of a live performance, of their public flirtation, so why shouldn’t it be Aidan instead of her detachable showerhead that made her come tonight?

She licked her lips, and his eyes dropped to her mouth.

Slowly, he dragged them back up her face. And the wicked, dangerous gleam she saw there made her wet. She didn’t want propriety or duty or sweetness from him.

She wanted passion.

She wanted him to want her.

The air grew thick and heavy between them. She could feel her pulse everywhere, as though her skin was beating with it. She didn’t see him reach for her hand, didn’t remember reaching for his, but suddenly there was skin to skin contact as their palms slid together, and the warm roughness of his hand around hers sent an arrow of lust right through her core. The next thing she knew, he’d turned and was tugging her along in his wake. She had to run to keep up with his long strides. Aidan spared a quick look around the bar before he pushed through a door marked Employees Only, and she followed him inside.

Because in that moment, Kaylee would have followed him anywhere.