Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 58142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
The cars parked in the lot probably belong to workers preparing for the night, maybe bartenders and servers, or deejays. Who knows what kind of staff the club has beyond the strippers themselves. And I still haven’t figured out why they might be in need of baked goods. I consider that someone on the staff might be celebrating a birthday, but the box doesn’t feel heavy enough to contain a cake. Shifting it, I decide it feels like there are cookies inside.
I make my way to the door of the club and pull open the handle, a wave of relief washing over me when I find myself in a quiet and fairly plain-looking well-lit lobby. There’s no stage or even a bar in sight, only a small seating area and three halls leading off in various directions.
There’s a reception desk along one wall, but no one is behind it. There’s no one in sight at all, and I debate about leaving the box on the counter since no payment is due, but decide that I should hand it off to a person who can vouch for its receipt.
“Hello?” I call out after clearing my throat.
The returning voice is masculine and deep. “Be there in a minute.”
When the owner of the voice appears less than thirty seconds later, my breath catches in my chest. The man is dressed in jeans and a basic black t-shirt, but those items of clothing have never looked as good on a body as they do on his.
His arms catch my attention first — dark hair covering muscular forearms, past thick biceps, up to strong shoulders. The same dark brown hair shades his strong jaw and accentuates thick, soft-looking lips that I’ll bet are endlessly kissable.
I’ve read books that described people’s eyes as chocolate, and I’ve always thought that sounded silly, but his warm brown eyes are so inviting and mesmerizing that there needs to be some kind of special word applied to them.
His hair is trimmed close to his head at the sides but is thick and wavy at the top, and looks slightly messy, like he’s just run his hands through it.
Simply put, he’s perfection, and he’s giving me a great smile with those lips. I think I have a decent face and nice hair, but I’m a larger woman with well-padded curves, and I often feel overlooked by men. This man is looking at me like he really sees me.
“Are you here to deliver something?” he asks, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t completely forgotten my reason for being here.
Looking down, I realize I’m still holding the bakery box. “Oh … yes,” I say, feeling a blush rise on my cheeks.
I look back up just in time to see another man appear from the same hallway, and I must be in the twilight zone, or in some alternate reality where my ideal man has just been replicated, because, aside from a different color shirt, the second man is a clone of the first.
3
Extra pheromones
“Like what you see?” the clone asks, a cocky grin on his gorgeous face.
“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry.” Oops. I was staring.
“It’s okay,” the first man says. “We’re used to it. People have been staring at us for as long as we can remember, thinking they’re seeing double. I’m Dodge, by the way.”
He holds out his hand to shake mine, and it occurs to me for the first time that he must be a stripper. And no wonder the parking lot is so crowded at night. His grip is warm and gently firm, and I’m sad the moment he lets go.
“And this is my brother, Diesel.”
His twin shakes my hand, and his touch is as fairy-tale magical as Dodge’s. Warmth rushes up my arm from where they’ve touched me.
“What’s your name?” Diesel asks after what I realize too late has been several seconds of awkward silence.
“I’m Jade, and I’m delivering from the bakery.” I lift the box a couple of inches, illustrating my statement.
Diesel directs a yell down the hall from where he appeared. “Chase, are you expecting baked goods?”
Moments later, a third man appears. He’s not identical to the first two, but his features bear enough similarity that I suspect he’s related.
Chase is taller and broader, and has a leaner face, with his facial hair trimmed so close that it’s merely a shadow. His eyes are even more penetrating than Dodge’s and Diesel’s, and I’d have not thought that was possible.
He appears distracted when he first enters the lobby, as if his head is elsewhere, but as soon as he spots me, his brown eyes go into laser focus mode.
“Who do we have here?” he says to no one in particular, his gaze traveling down my body before returning to my face.
“This is Jade,” Dodge says, and I appreciate him answering the question, because I have momentarily forgotten my own name.