The Club, Part 2 Read online

  The Club, Part 2

  By Clare James

  Copyright © 2013 Clare James

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without express permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

  This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Cover design by Stephanie Higgins. Cover image used under license from shutterstock.com.

  Edited by Madison Seidler.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Also Available from Clare James

  Chapter 1

  “Ms. Sinclair?”

  I wake to a woman’s voice and a light tapping on the door. Rolling around in my luxuriously comfortable bed, I’m unwilling to get up.

  “Mmm,” I grunt, hoping the noise will go away.

  “Ms. Sinclair?”

  I open my eyes, and the room slowly comes into focus. The hotel room. I feel a small pang of despair when I remember why I’m here—my current homeless and boyfriendless status.

  “Ms. Sinclair, Ms. Sinclair,” Free Bird chirps.

  At least I’m not petless.

  The sheet I put over Free’s cage slipped a little in the night, and he’s wide-awake, pacing back and forth. Poor guy is just as confused as I am.

  “Shhh,” I tell him as I get up and fix the sheet.

  I hope I did the right thing bringing him with me when I left Max. My ex. Nope, I don’t like the sound of that one bit. I can’t believe I didn’t see it coming. I can’t believe one day we’re buying groceries together—the man bought my tampons for fuck’s sake—and the next, I’m finding condoms for his secret escapades with a whore in Cincinnati. And they were the fancy kind with extra lube, no less. Yes, I looked.

  But even though I don’t have a home, and I’m currently using the last of my hotel points for this roof over our heads, Free Bird is better off with me. Plus, I wouldn’t want him to pick up the man-whore lifestyle: bringing random lady birds to his cage at all hours, slicking his feathers back with cheap gel, talking in cheesy one-liners. No, not my sweet boy.

  “Coming,” I call out to the woman behind the door, searching for my robe. I’m still naked from last night’s festivities—and my time with Gabe. Now, that memory has exactly the opposite effect as the Max situation.

  When I finally make it to the door, I open to a beautiful assault of the senses.

  “I have your breakfast, Ms. Sinclair,” a young woman with deep red hair and bright green eyes tells me with a smile—like she’s in on some secret.

  Strange, how does she know my name?

  My stomach growls in approval, but I didn’t order this, nor can I afford it.

  “Sorry,” I say, wiping the drool from my mouth. “I didn’t order breakfast.”

  “I know.” She winks. “But someone did for you.”

  Gabe.

  And just like that, my hunger turns into a different sort as my mind once again goes back to last night—by far the most erotic night of my life. Almost the best night of my life, if I’m being honest. What I wouldn’t do to hear the low purr of his sexy voice right now.

  “Enjoy,” the woman says before quietly closing the door. I hardly notice.

  On the cart, covered in white linen, is a feast. And not your typical hotel food either. A fragrant bouquet of brightly colored flowers sits in the middle of the table full of baskets, bowls, and covered plates. The croissants look like they came from a French bakery, the assortment of fruit from a farmer’s market, and the frittata from a European café. And then, thank the heavens, there’s a cappuccino, topped off with a frothy, floating heart. I can’t help it when mine flips inside my chest.

  How long did it take him to put this together?

  I shove half of the croissant in my mouth, take a long sip of the creamy cappuccino, and search for my phone. It’s buried under the covers because I didn’t have the strength to put it away after my little experiment with Gabe—to be more specific, phone sex for the win.

  Round two, anyone?

  I slide my robe off and slink into the covers—oh yeah, I slink now. Searching my contacts, I pull up the number he called me on last night and start round two without him. His sexy hello is all I need.

  With my eyes closed, I reach in between my legs and repeat the movements from last night.

  One ring.

  I imagine his icy eyes burning into me after I take my clothes off.

  Two rings.

  I can hear the low growl of his voice, ordering me what to do.

  Three rings—damn, voicemail. Click.

  That’s okay. I can do this without him; I have an incredibly active imagination after all. I take a deep breath and concentrate working my hands like Gabe had me do. Okay, yes, this is nice. I picture him here with me, his hands on me. Right there, Gabe. Right—

  “Beep, beep, beep,” Free calls from under his cage, mimicking the sound of our alarm clock at home. “Beep, beep, beep.”

  Fuck!

  This is so not the way to get my sexy back. Still, I can’t be mad at Free. I take the sheet off the cage and let the boy fly around the room for a bit while I attack the smorgasbord. It’s not as good as what I had in mind with Gabe, but it is a close second.

  Then a new thought runs through my mind—maybe this breakfast is just Gabe’s classy parting gift. It was probably just a one-time thing—both of us caught up in the moment. Ugh, the pit in my stomach is back … that is until New Me takes over.

  New Me doesn’t worry about what others are thinking; New Me only worries about taking care of herself and talking in the third person, apparently. And right now, the only thing New Me needs to do is eat every last thing on this amazing spread.

  ***

  “How are you feeling, Stevie?” my boss, Daniel, asks when I get to the shop.

  “Better,” I tell him, the guilt settling in my gut as I work my way around all the story boards on the easels scattered throughout the room. Right, we have that big presentation on Friday—one of the biggest accounts our design firm has ever gone after. It’s an account we should have. Our team kicks ass. But as a small shop, we could be seen as a risk.

  “Thank Christ,” Daniel says, looking quite disheveled as he pulls me into the conference room. Normally impeccably dressed, my boss now strides ahead of me wearing wrinkled pants, a t-shirt with a coffee stain on the front, and at least four days of scruff. It’s worse than I thought.

  “We need you to work your magic on a few of these concepts,” Daniel says as he chews his thumbnail while staring at one of the boards. “We need you bad, girl.”

  “Calm down,” I tell him. “I’m here, and I won’t stop until these are perfect. I promise you.”

  Though I may not have my sexy, I do have my mojo fully in place at work. It took me several jobs before I found this firm, but I was made for this place. I love the variety of work, the creative people, and our funky loft space. It’s perfect for me.

  I settle in at one of the long tables in the conference room and power up my Macs. Then I get to work on the social media design concept we have for the fitness company’s blog, Facebook, and Twitter accounts. The mock-up is almost there; it just needs a few tweaks to really make it special.

  Lost in a sea of colors and fonts, the mornin
g flies by, and I almost miss the call coming in on my cell.

  “Sinclair,” I answer, not moving my eyes from the two Mac screens I’m working on.

  “Damn, you’re sexy in work mode, Sinclair.”

  Oh shit, it’s Gabe.

  I instantly blush, and my focus blurs, going back to my hotel room last night. My body hums in utter delight.

  “Good morning,” I say with the biggest smile in my voice. “I tried to call you earlier to thank you for that amazing breakfast.”

  “I know,” he says in that rich voice of his. “I wasn’t happy I missed your call, but I was stuck in a meeting with vendors early this morning. Did you enjoy your meal?”

  “Understatement,” I say.

  “Well, I had to do something to thank you for last night,” he says, pushing my body past the humming stage toward downright throbbing.

  “I think it should be the other way around, mister,” I say, squeezing my legs together. If only I had him on the phone this morning. Grrr.

  “I disagree. In fact, free room service isn’t sufficient for what you gave me last night.”

  Oh boy, I need to shut this down before I reach the point of no return. How does he do this to me with just his voice?

  I clear my throat. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Lunch. Millennium Park. One o’clock.”

  It’s not a question. Damn, I love when he’s all bossy.

  “Okay,” I say.

  “So, the adventure continues,” he adds before hanging up.

  I drop the phone.

  Chapter 2

  I get so much done this morning that Boss Man doesn’t even blink when I tell him I’m going out for lunch. Once I get to the park, I have no trouble spotting Gabe—he looks like a picture. Business casual in grey pants and a pale blue button-down, sprawled across a plaid blanket with a picnic basket at his feet. His eyes are closed and his arms are folded behind his head.

  I want to make a meal out of him.

  Slowly, I move toward him, not wanting to disturb this image. I just want to savor him for a few more minutes.

  A warm smile stretches across his face. Busted.

  “You like what you see?” he asks, eyes still closed.

  I play it cool and take a seat next to him on the blanket, fighting the incredible urge to mount him.

  “The picnic?” I ask, refusing to feed his ego. “Yes, it looks fab.”

  He opens his eyes and they look even brighter against his shirt. “So, that’s how you’re going to play it, huh?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I smirk. How am I supposed to be sexy around this guy? He catches my every move. “I’m just very excited for our picnic.”

  “Well, I’m very excited to see you,” he says, before yanking me down on top of him.

  I giggle and try to squirm out of his hold like I’m in junior high and Gabe’s my first crush. But after we lie there for a moment, there is nothing remotely funny. Gabe’s eyes fix on mine and my libido squeals in delight. I’m sure the people in the park can see the sparks flying off us.

  My body sinks into his, like it’s made to be there. I can feel his heartbeat, his pulse, each breath. And holy buckets, it feels like my panties are going to combust at any minute.

  “I’ve been thinking about you all day,” Gabe whispers in my ear. “But since all you’ve been thinking about is the picnic, I best get on with it.”

  In a blink, he flips me over and plants a chaste kiss on my nose before getting to work on our lunch. That’s what I get for trying to play it cool.

  My libido growls and flips me off for being so lame.

  Gabe pulls out a bottle of white wine, cheese, fruit, asparagus spears wrapped in prosciutto, and a baguette.

  “Man, I could get used to you feeding me,” I tell him, stealing a grape.

  “So could I.” He hands me a glass of wine. “So, tell me about your day?”

  “Really?” I ask, feeling strange he wants to get to know me.

  “Really. Why wouldn’t I want to know about your day?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I thought we’d keep this thing strictly business—you know, of the sexual adventure variety.”

  “We can, if that’s what you want. But I like you Stevie. And no matter what happens when we’re done here, I hope we can be friends.”

  “Me too,” I say, as much to him as to myself.

  “Okay,” I give in. “It’s been a good morning. Busy. I’m a designer at a graphic arts firm.”

  “Mmm.” Gabe nods. “I can see that.”

  “You can?”

  “You have a flair,” he says, accessing my platforms and knee socks before fingering my ladybug necklace. “You’re a little on the funky side, Ms. Sinclair.”

  I nod. “Yeah, Max had to tell me to tone it down on more than one occasion.”

  “No,” Gabe says, shaking his head. “Don’t ever tone it down. It suits you. And I like it.”

  “So what about you?” I ask him before taking a sip of my wine.

  “You know what I do,” he says, plating our lunch. “How’s the wine?”

  “Delicious. What kind is it?”

  “An Italian Soave,” he says, accenting each syllable, so-ah-ve.

  Mmmm.

  “I love it. I need to try Italian wines more often.”

  “I have a penchant for all things Italian.” He smirks.

  “You know, being a manager of a corporate hotel really doesn’t suit you,” I blurt.

  He laughs at my candor, at least that what I hope he’s laughing at. “Why not?” he asks. “What’s wrong with managing a hotel?”

  “Nothing … I don’t know. You don’t seem like a cog in a wheel to me. You seem like the whole damn machine. I picture you as an entrepreneur or something.”

  Damn foot in my mouth again. Why does this man take away my filter? “I’m sorry. Not that your job isn’t cool or whatever. I have a knack for saying the dumbest things.”

  “Or the most perceptive.” Gabe runs his hand down my arm. I turn to mush, wishing we were back at that corporate hotel right now.

  “I’m opening my own hotel,” he says.

  “What? When?”

  “About a year. It’s still under construction—a little boutique place. I’ll have to wrap up my work at the Marriott soon because the new place needs my attention full time.”

  “Hotels, that’s your thing?”

  “Hotels, restaurants, bars, boutiques. You name it. I dabble in a lot.”

  “So, why are you working at the Marriott then?”

  “Research. It’s been the best schooling for me. I also know the GM and approached him. He was short on help, and I needed some inside information for my place.”

  “Wow. I’m impressed.”

  “Don’t be, Stevie. It’s just work. It was a great trade off. And that way, I didn’t have to keep anything a secret. Plus, we’re catering to a different clientele. There’s really no competition. And speaking of the hotel …” He tips his head down. “Though I will allow feathered friends in my hotel, the place you are currently staying at does not. So try to keep that little noise-maker’s singing to a minimum. You’re going to be staying a while, and I don’t want the other guests to wonder what kind of place I’m running.”

  “How did you know?” I totally had him hidden in the closet, and Free is awesome in stealth-mode.

  “I heard him last night.”

  “Why didn’t you call me out then?”

  “Stevie, you could’ve had an entire zoo in your room last night and I wouldn’t have cared. I had one thing on my mind.”

  “Well, don’t worry. I only have a few more days left in my stay.”

  “Try ten,” Gabe says with a smile.

  “What?”

  “I found some more points for you to stay another week.”

  Oh, that sounds so much better than hitting up my sister or trying to negotiate with Max so soon. Still, I can’t take advantage of h
im like that.

  “I can’t accept, Gabe.”

  “You can and you will,” he says with a sideways glance that looks more than a little dangerous. And completely hot.

  “You need more time for your little adventure, and if I’m going to help, it’d be completely irresponsible on my part if I let you go without getting the full experience. Now, let’s finish eating so you can get back to work. I wouldn’t want you to be late for our … plans … tonight.”

  Chapter 3

  “It’d really help if you told me where we’re going. I’m not sure if my outfit is appropriate,” I say to Gabe on the phone.

  “What are you wearing?” he asks in an exaggerated sexy voice. It still works on him.

  “A blue strapless dress and sling-backs.”

  “Perfect,” he answers.

  “Are you sure? You haven’t even seen it.”

  “I’m positive. Now stop with the nerves and get your tight little ass down here. I know it’s not the gentlemanly thing to have you meet me in the garage. It’s actually quite seedy, but it would look suspicious if I went up to your room to pick you up.”

  “It’s fine,” I tell him. “I’ll meet you in the garage in ten.”

  I give myself one last look in the mirror. Smokey eyes, nude lips, hair piled high in a messy bun. It’s pretty good, I have to admit. Still, something’s missing. I pull the clip from my hair and let the wild waves spill down to my shoulders—just fucked hair.

  Somehow it seems completely appropriate.

  I put my lips up to Free’s cage. He moves in and gives me a tiny peck with his beak. Then he yells, “Max, Maaaaxxxx.” It breaks my heart a little.

  “No, Free,” I tell him. “No Max. Tonight I’m going out with Gorgeous Gabe.”

  He paces back and forth. “Max, Max, Max.”

  “Gorgeous Gabe,” I repeat, secretly hoping Free will latch on and then let it spill the next time he sees Max. It’ll serve him right.

  When I get down to the garage, an elegant black limo idles just outside the elevator. I immediately feel light-headed. I know Gabe is in there. And if I had any doubt, it dissipates when the window slides down and a hand reaches out, crooking a finger to beckon me inside.