Body Shots (24 page)

PROLOGUE

T
he loud music hit her the instant she stepped through the doors. Lydia loved it. Going to Charlie's, her favorite hangout, after work on Friday night always helped her forget about the lawyers she worked for. There were three of them and they were all exasperating. Working at a law firm sucked in ways that most people couldn't grasp. Her only escape from the stress came when she met up with her two best friends, Roni and Jeanette. They'd known each other since grade school. While everyone else had moved on and forgotten about their school pals, the three of them had stayed in touch. Sometimes she thought they were closer now than ever. Maturity maybe. Who knew the reason, all Lydia knew for sure was that she'd be lost without them.

As she moved through the crowded room, Lydia felt someone's hand on her ass. She turned and glared at the man sitting with a group of men, all grinning like idiots. The hateful look she tossed his way must have worked because he pulled his hand back and started to scope out his next victim. Lydia spotted her friends sitting at a high round table at the back of the bar. Roni waved her over. Lydia smiled and headed toward her.

As she reached them she noticed her favorite drink, a fuzzy navel, ready and waiting. Roni moved to another chair, giving her the one on the end. “Why is it men think it's cute to grab a woman's ass? Do they really think it's going to get them laid?” Lydia shouted in an attempt to be heard over the noise. She slid onto the chair and grabbed her drink, wondering if she'd look like an alcoholic if she downed half the glass in one gulp.

“I'll never understand why men do half the things they do,” Roni tossed back with an angry edge to her voice. “Trying to figure them out is a waste of time.”

Jeanette leaned close and said, “There is one particular guy I wouldn't mind grabbing my ass. The only problem is I don't think he even knows I exist.”

Lydia and Roni both moved closer, their attention rapt. Lydia spoke up first. “Are you still hot for that motorcycle dude coming into your café?”

Jeanette's gaze filled with unbridled lust. “If you saw him, you'd be drooling too. I'm telling you, he's the yummiest thing I've seen yet.”

“You've lusted after this guy for what, a year?” Roni asked.

Jeanette laughed. “It feels that way sometimes, but it's only been about six months.”

Lydia took a sip of her drink. Already she could feel herself relaxing, as if the last several days were a distant blur. She looked across the table at Roni and shook her head. She still couldn't picture her sharp-tongued friend as a psychologist. On a good day she was hard to get along with. On the other hand, Jeanette's job seemed to fit her to a T. Owning a quant little coffee shop seemed the perfect choice for her introverted friend.

“If you don't ask him out, someone else will,” Lydia taunted, hoping to push her friend into making a move.

Jeanette bit her lip. “I'm so damn shy around him. He comes in with this black leather jacket and tight, faded jeans and I just want to jump him. All that dark hair and those dark eyes.” She sighed. “Every time I see him I think, this is it. I'm going to ask him out. Or at least find out if he has a damned girlfriend. But I just get all tongue-tied. Like I'm in high school again.” She clenched her fist around the longneck bottle of light beer she'd ordered. “It's frustrating as hell.”

Roni piped up with her usual bit of sensitive logic. “He rides a motorcycle, he's gorgeous as hell and he comes to your shop every morning. Get a clue, girl; he wants to fuck you!”

Jeanette rolled her eyes. “What makes you think he wants me at all? He comes for the coffee, not the owner.”

“Bullshit. He comes because you're hot and he wants to lay you across the counter. He could get coffee anywhere. Hell, he probably doesn't even live near your shop.”

Lydia could see her friend's spirits perking up. “You really think so?” Jeanette asked.

Roni laughed and swallowed the last of her sex on the beach before waving the waitress over and ordering another. After the waitress had hurried off to fill their order, Roni said, “He's just watching you squirm a little. Enjoying the way you blush and stammer. It's a game. He's wondering how long you can hold out.”

Jeanette started to peel the label off the beer. “I've never asked a guy out before. Usually they ask me. I'm not shy exactly, but I am a little old fashioned, I guess.”

Lydia spoke up this time. “I think Roni's right. It's a new world these days. Men like it when a woman is sure of herself. You should definitely ask him out.”

Jeanette's eyes grew round. “This coming from the shyest one of all?”

Lydia shrugged. “I've been doing some thinking. It's time we livened up our lives a little, don't you think?”

Roni narrowed her gaze, as if suspicious all of a sudden. “In what way?”

“I don't know,” Lydia admitted as she looked down at her half-empty drink. “It's just that we come here every Friday and nothing is ever any different. We work all week, date boring men and then come here to bitch about it. I'm getting sick of it. I'm ready for a change.”

“
You
might date boring men, but that doesn't mean we all do.”

Lydia knew that tone. Roni always got her back up when someone pointed out that she wasn't perfect. “Oh, really? What about that guy you went out with last weekend? You said he took you to the opera and you wanted to sleep through the whole thing it was so boring.”

Roni slumped. “Men always think they're going to impress me by bringing me to some expensive restaurant or some fancy theater. Or they go the opposite route and attempt to please me by playing on my kinkier side. Just once I'd like to go out with a real man. Someone who isn't trying to impress.”

“See? That's exactly what I mean. We all have these secret desires, but we don't act on them.” Lydia looked at Jeanette, who'd remained silent throughout the exchange. “Just once wouldn't you like to toss caution to the wind and do something. . . wicked?”

Jeanette sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes, I would. I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to strip naked and just offer myself to Mr. Motorcycle Man. But how can I possibly do that when I don't know a thing about him? These days it pays to err on the side of caution.”

Lydia nodded. “I agree we should be cautious, but that doesn't mean we can't, just this once, do something completely out of character.” When Roni and Jeanette both started talking at once, Lydia held up her hand. “Hear me out. If you don't like my idea, then we'll forget I ever mentioned it. Agreed?” Both women looked at each other before giving her the floor. “Roni is ready to get down and dirty with an honest, blue-collar kind of guy. Jeanette, you're so hot for Motorcycle Man I can practically see steam coming off you. I have my own little fantasy in mind too. I say we make a bet to see who can make their fantasy come true first.”

Roni snorted. “Are you serious? We're going to bet to see who can get laid faster?”

“Not just laid, dork. The bet is to see who can make their fantasy become reality.”

Jeanette gasped. “I cannot believe you're suggesting this. I can see Roni suggesting something like this, she's half crazy, but you? I've never even seen you loosen the top button of your blouse, yet you're sitting there proposing we make our wildest fantasies come to life?”

Lydia's face heated. Jeanette was right. It was insane to think she could actually make her own fantasy a reality. If her friends had half a clue what she wanted to do, they'd commit her to a sanitarium. She was about to call the whole thing off when Roni spoke up

“What's the winner get?”

Jeanette's gaze swung to Roni. Lydia couldn't speak.

“You're actually considering this ludicrous bet?” Jeanette squeaked.

Roni grinned. “Why the hell not? It sounds like fun. And Lydia's right, our lives are boring as shit. While I admit I do have some pretty wild sex, there's still something missing. I want more, damn it.”

Lydia wished she could be more like Roni. She took life by the horns. All Lydia could ever control was her cat, Socrates. “I haven't thought that far. What
should
the winner get? While we're at it, what does the loser have to do?”

Jeanette held up her hand. “Wait, I'm already confused. How does one lose?”

“By not making your fantasy real,” Roni answered.

“So in order to win, I need to ask Mr. Motorcycle Man out?”

“Not just ask him out, but you have to do the very thing you've been dreaming of,” Lydia said, already wondering what she'd gotten herself into.

“I've had a lot of dreams about that man.”

“Make one of them happen and you're safe from losing,” Roni said as she finished off her second sex on the beach.

Lydia took a deep breath and went for broke. “So, back to the question. What does the winner get and what does the loser have to do?”

“The winner gets to have her fantasy come to life, obviously,” Roni chimed in. “The loser . . . buys the rest a round of drinks?”

“No, that's not incentive enough,” Jeanette said, as if she were beginning to warm up to the idea. “The loser has to . . . strip naked and walk down main street.”

Lydia shook her head. “Illegal. It can't be against the law.”

“Then the loser has to clean my car,” Roni tossed out.

Lydia and Jeanette both shuddered. “That's cruel and unusual punishment, Roni,” Lydia said. “Damn.”

Roni rubbed her hands together. “But it's legal and it's incentive enough to get you two busy.”

“What makes you so sure you're going to win?” Jeanette shot right back, her back stiffening in pride.

Roni winked. “Because I never lose, honey.”

Lydia sucked down the last of her fuzzy navel, then ordered another. “Okay, now for the next part of this wager. We each have to reveal our fantasy.”

Jeanette shrugged. “Mine's already been revealed. I want to have wild and crazy sex with Mr. Motorcycle Man.”

Roni frowned. “I want a man who wants me for me. A man who isn't out to impress.”

Both women looked at Lydia. “I want to have sex with a stranger, no strings, no names, just sex.”
Or maybe with two
, she thought, but she wasn't ready to admit that.

Jeanette's jaw dropped and Roni's eyes filled with awe. “Damn, I've never admired you more than I do right now,” Roni mused.

Jeanette laughed and soon they were all cracking up. Deep down Lydia shook like a teenager on prom night.
What the hell did I just get myself into?

1

“G
ood morning, Mr. Gentry,” Lydia said as Dane Gentry of the Gentry, Anderson & Dailey Law Firm strode through the door, a scowl marring his handsome face.

A grunt seemed to sum up what he thought of her chipper greeting. One thing Lydia had learned over the two years since coming to work for Dane, the man hated mornings. “Coffee's on your desk and here's your schedule for the day.” She handed him the printout. If it were possible, his frown deepened as he looked her over.

“What time did you get here?”

She pushed her glasses higher on her nose and said, “Uh, five, Mr. Gentry. I had a few things to catch up on.”

He rubbed his jaw. “Do I pay you overtime?”

Lydia was so confused by his question she just sat there, staring at him as if he'd lost his mind.

“Lydia, answer the question. It wasn't that hard.”

“No, sir, you don't. I'm salary.”

“Then it makes no sense to work overtime, now does it?”

“I suppose not, but I needed to finish up some research.”

Dane shook his head. “You work too much.”

Lydia was beginning to feel a spark of anger. She liked her job, but there were days when working for three lawyers really was a joke. “Are you complaining about my performance, Mr. Gentry?”

He frowned. “Of course not, but you put in way too many hours.”

“Someone had to finish the research. I don't have a magic wand here . . . sir,” she said, allowing a hint of sarcasm to seep into her voice.

Her boss leaned across the desk, coming way too close for comfort, and whispered, “You have a very smart mouth, Lydia. One of these days it'll get you into trouble.”

Lydia tamped down the urge to move her chair closer, to inhale his clean masculine scent. She'd always had a weakness for Dane. He was so tall and broad shouldered. His messy dark hair with the little curl at the collar always made her want to reach out and play with it. Deep brown eyes watched her with an intensity that had her feeling as if someone had jacked up the temperature. It was no wonder he had so many female clients. She thought of his statement and answered, “There are times when I find my quick wit to be rather helpful, Mr. Gentry.”

“Dane,” he gritted out. “Will you ever call me Dane?”

“I see no reason to, no.” This was an old argument between them. She stood on formalities and it drove him crazy, which was partly why she did it, of course.

“I can make it mandatory.”

She laughed. “That can't be legal.”

“Who gives a damn if it's legal or not?”

She was about to remind him that he was a lawyer when another voice intruded. “Is he giving you a hard way to go, sugar?”

Dane straightened and turned around. Lydia peered around Dane's massive body to see Mac Anderson striding through the door, a bagel in one hand and his briefcase in the other. Lydia went back to work mode. “Good morning, Mr. Anderson. Your schedule,” she explained as she handed it over. “Don't forget you said you'd have lunch with your mom today at one.”

Mac grinned and looked at Dane. “Think she'll ever call us by our first name?”

Dane snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. “Unlikely.”

Mac was Dane's polar opposite. He walked around with a perpetual grin and everyone was a friend. In fact, she wasn't sure she'd ever seen the man grumpy. With his sandy blond hair and pale blue eyes, he looked more like a laidback surfer than a lawyer. His easy charm was merely a veneer though. He was every bit as sharp as Dane and just as cunning in the courtroom.

“This subject has been beaten into the ground,” she replied as she pretended an interest in the e-mail she'd been going through. “You both might as well get used to the fact that I'm never going to call you by your first names. It's not professional and that's the end of it.”

“Mouthy, isn't she?” Mac noted.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Dane frown, again. “Someone needs to teach
Ms. Burke
a lesson, if you ask me.”

“Someone has a meeting in half an hour and shouldn't be wasting time chatting.”

“She has a point,” another voice chimed in. They all three looked at the door to the office just as Trent Dailey marched through it, his movements precise, his expression serious. Lydia straightened in her chair. Trent had a way of making people check themselves. He wasn't exactly a drill sergeant, but she secretly thought he would have made an exemplary one if he ever chose to change professions. Ever the serious one, with his amber eyes, neatly trimmed black hair and powerful build, Trent rarely cracked a smile, and he always did everything with efficiency. She often felt like a slacker around him, and for a workaholic like her, that was saying something.

“If you two can find it in you to break away from the charming Ms. Burke, I have something I need to discuss with you.”

Mac looked back at her and winked. “He's at it already. Look out, sugar, you could be next.”

Dane didn't say another word, just growled something about coffee and stomped into his office, Trent and Mac hot on his heels.

The phone rang and she had the feeling her day was about to turn chaotic. “I just love Mondays,” she mumbled, before picking it up.

 

Lydia had started the day with a smile, but that was well before Dane turned her world upside down. There wasn't a moment's peace. The minute she finished one task, she'd end up having fifty more dumped on her desk. And it was only noon!

“Lydia, I need you to get Gordon Michelson on the phone,” Dane said. “I want to set up a meeting right away concerning his personal injury case.”

“Yes, Mr. Gentry,” she replied, barely containing a groan. As she closed the document she'd been working on for Mac and searched through her list of contacts for Michelson's phone number, Dane popped his head out of his office once more. “Lydia, did you do that research for the Wilson case?”

“It's not quite finished. I'll have it to you by the end of the day, sir.”

“That's fine. By the way, don't forget to interview that potential client, Sam MacKenzie.”

Lydia had finally reached the end of her rope. “Okay, you know what? This is too much for one person. I get a few things done and you drop a hundred more on me. I'm not a robot!”

She grabbed her purse and started for the door, aware she'd attracted the attention of her fellow coworkers. Dane was quick to intercept her. She tried to move around him, but he only grabbed her arm, halting her forward progress.

“Where are you going?”

“I need a break,” she gritted out.

“I'm sorry. Don't quit, please.”

She put her hand on her hip and glared up at him. “Well, of course I'm not quitting! But I am taking the rest of the afternoon off. You can get along without me that long, can't you?”

Dane leaned down and whispered into her ear, “If you don't come back tomorrow I'll come looking for you, sweetheart. I won't let you get away from me so easily.”

Lydia shuddered at the sensual tone. All the time she'd worked for Dane, he'd never used that dark, mysterious tone on her. Or endearments for that matter. He wasn't like Mac, where every woman he met was either sugar or darlin', an influence of his Texas upbringing. Dane had just crossed a line, and despite warning bells going off inside her head, his wicked threat tantalized her.

As he released her arm and stepped to the side to let her pass, Lydia watched his lips tilt to one side. He was flirting with her and she was woefully unequipped to handle a man like Dane Gentry.

Lydia forced her feet to move, her entire body suddenly too warm for comfort. As she left the office building, she could swear all three men stared at her, and she had a sneaking suspicion it wasn't professional concern they had on their minds.

 

As soon as the office door closed, Dane let out a breath. Jesus, that was close. He'd been a heartbeat away from kissing her. That would be the wrong thing to do. Way wrong. But if that was the case, then why did he feel as if he'd lost a golden opportunity? What would she have done if he'd closed that little distance? Damn, Lydia Burke had been a fire in his blood for too long already. If he didn't do something about his fascination with her, he was going to lose it.

As he'd watched her get all authoritative and demanding, he'd been tempted to push her to her knees and force her to submit. There was a chemistry between them. Hell, there'd always been a spark. Though he had a feeling she liked to pretend it wasn't there, Dane knew the truth. Lust, craving, obsession; whatever the label it didn't matter. It wasn't going away, not until they did something about it.

“Shit, that was close,” Mac groaned. “I thought she was leaving you for good this time.”

“She won't leave,” Dane stated. “She knows I'd find her and bring her back.”

“We've got another problem,” Trent grumbled as he motioned them into his office. After he closed the door, he said, “Clyde just put in his two weeks' notice and we need to replace him.”

As Dane glanced at Trent across the room, the throbbing in Dane's head gained momentum. Trent referred to the manager at Kinks, the bondage and submission club they owned. “Damn, he was the best we had so far. No one stepped out of line as long as Clyde was around,” Mac said.

Dane moved toward Trent's desk and sat on the edge. “What happened?”

Trent pushed his fingers through his hair in agitation. “Hell, he always did say it wouldn't be a permanent thing for him,” Trent explained. “He's getting married and his fiancée wants him to concentrate full time on the landscaping business they've set up. Being our manager wasn't really part of his five-year plan.”

Dane crossed his legs at the ankles. “I met the fiancée once. She's such a damned prude, I'm surprised Clyde lasted this long.”

Trent's eyes widened. “She came into Kinks?”

“No, she picked him up at the door one night; his car was in the shop. She took one look at me and went pale as a damn sheet.” His lips twitched. “I think it was my leather dom hood that did it.”

Mac laughed. “It's wrong for us to find amusement in that.”

Dane laughed, though it felt hollow. The rest of his day would be shit because Lydia wasn't there. He never quite understood his fascination with her, which was one reason he'd kept his distance. He didn't like going into a relationship blind.

“Back to the problem at hand,” Trent insisted. “We need to replace Clyde. I asked him if he knew anyone he could recommend. Of course, he didn't; that would've been too fucking easy. I thought maybe we could bump Ralph up. He's been there the longest and knows the ropes. We put him on as manager and replace his spot on the floor. It's bound to be easier to find someone to replace him, rather than taking the time to train someone new to take Clyde's position, agreed?”

Dane and Mac both nodded. Dane was the first to speak. “Fine by me.”

Trent moved toward his office. “Done then. We can take care of it tonight.”

Dane suddenly felt exhausted. “Did either of you think it'd be this much work to run that damned club?”

Mac arched a brow at him. “Having second thoughts?”

Dane shrugged and sat back. They'd taken over the running of the club a little over a year ago, after the previous owner had found out he had cancer. They'd grown close to Leo, so when he confided in them that he wanted the club to go to someone he knew and trusted, someone who would take care of it, they'd stepped in and made it happen. The place now made them a hefty profit. It was never about the money though, not for any of them. It was their home away from home. The only place they could truly be free to explore the darker nature of their souls. The three of them had gone to college together. It had been there that they'd discovered they shared a common passion for the kinkier side of sex. When the club had practically been dropped into their laps, it'd seemed perfect. But Dane hadn't counted on how much work was involved. Trent liked having a club to run, Mac just plain enjoyed sex, but he'd been drawn to the dom role. Still, being a club dom was fast losing its appeal.

“I don't know. I think I'm getting worn down from burning the candle at both ends.”

Trent moved toward Lydia's chair and sat down. “I've been feeling the same way, but now that it's turning a profit we can start thinking of hiring more help.”

Mac's usual grin was replaced by a scowl. “That could be tricky as hell, considering what we do during the day. We have to protect our interests.”

“That's why we have the employees sign a confidentiality agreement and it's also why we never go out to the floor without our hoods.” Trent reminded him.

The members of the club thought they wore the hoods for effect; never allowing anyone to see their faces lent to the dark mystery. The truth wasn't nearly as enticing. Dane knew the legal end was secure, but society didn't always care about laws and regulations. In the end, the general population would still view the club as a place that catered to sexual deviants. “Can you imagine if someone found out we run a BDSM club? We'd be finished as lawyers.”

“It's not illegal, Dane,” Trent growled. “You make it sound like we're drug lords or pimps.”

“Our clients wouldn't give a damn about legalities, Trent, and you know it. They'd find a new law firm quicker than any of us could blink.”

“You're forgetting one important factor here, buddy,” Mac said, a mischievous gleam lighting his eyes.