She's All In: Club 3, Book 1 (7 page)

“Oh my, wasn’t it though? My thermometer in the backyard read ninety-eight this afternoon. Did you drink enough water?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Mom, I down about a gallon on days like this. You know, from that insulated jug you got me.”

“Good. Well, I haven’t seen you for two weeks. I thought I’d fix barbecue this Saturday if you can come over.”

He groaned silently. “Ah, I have something going on Saturday, Mom. A date.”

Oh shit, why had he said that? Now his mother would want to meet her. And he wasn’t bringing Daisy anywhere near the Drama Queen.

“Oh.” She sounded equal parts disappointed and intrigued. “Well, how about Sunday?”

Trapped. “Ah…sure. Sunday’s good.”

“Oh, good. Frank will be here, and you can meet him.”

“Great,” he managed through gritted teeth. “Can’t wait. Bye, Mom.”

“Bye, son.”

Dack shoved his phone into his pocket and stalked into the cool, air-conditioned gym.

Yeah, he couldn’t wait to meet the guy who thought he could take his dad’s place. Well, he hoped the guy had a hearing aid he could turn down when she got rolling. Because she’d probably treat this Frank to the same bullshit she had his father
. “Where have you been? What have you been doing? Who were you doing it with? You missed supper again”
and on, and on.

He nodded briefly at Brian, the Asian-American kid they’d just hired to watch the Big Iron desk part-time, and headed on back to the weights. He needed to pump some major iron and get the endorphins flowing, shake off the tangle of resentment and exasperated affection he always experienced when he spoke to his mother.

He’d rather think about Daisy. Even if it did give him a major woody. He was wearing a cup and baggy shorts.

Man, he’d wanted that little blonde the minute she first ventured into Big Iron. Wanted to arrange her on one of the shiny machines, naked, and have his way with her while everyone else watched, lost in admiration. A twisted fantasy, but it was a damn hot one.

But he’d kept his distance, because he knew from bitter experience that his sexual desires scared the hell out of most women. Not only was he a big guy, he was a dom. That carried a heavy responsibility. One he was comfortable with and had been for years. But a lot of women weren’t.

Some women weren’t into guys who had an ugly scar on his face either. He’d taken a falling piece of rebar in the face a year ago and ended up in the ER for stitches. It had left a hell of a scar through his eyebrow and over his cheekbone. The doctors made a big deal out of how lucky he was to keep his eye and his vision. Yeah, he was thankful for that, but the woman he’d been dating at the time had been repulsed by the look of his black eye and the swollen red scar tissue and backed out of their date to the wedding and reception of mutual friends.

He’d gone to the wedding with some buddies, wearing a pair of new sunglasses with amber lenses to hide the mess, and danced with all her friends instead of her. Took one of them home afterward too. She’d told him he looked hot in his shades, like a movie spy, and let him do her on her balcony, so that had ended well.

After that, he’d just gotten in the habit of wearing shades pretty much all the time. On sunny days he wore darker lenses; on cloudy days and indoors he wore amber lenses. With the lightness of the new styles, he forgot he had them on half the time.

He wondered what Daisy would say if she saw his scar. It was white now, and Trace had told him he didn’t need the damn shades anymore, but what did he know? The dude had
GQ
good looks, the kind girls creamed for.

Dack made out fine himself, but he’d keep his shades on. Didn’t want to spoil his record now.

Chapter Five

Daisy stepped out of her car in the small parking lot hidden behind Big Iron Fitness. She slung her tiny purse over her shoulder and shut the car door. As she smoothed both hands nervously over her hips, her damp palms stuck to the buttery soft leather of her short skirt. She took a deep breath, and her breasts fought against the confines of her leather halter top.

She looked down at herself. She couldn’t quite believe she was really here, dressed in brief black leather from her halter to her platform sandals. The summer night was warm, and she wore a lot less to the beach, but this little ensemble screamed
I want to have sex
, and part of her wanted to dive back in her car and hide. But another part of her was so excited she wanted to jump up and down and squeal like a cheerleader. She was really here, at Dack’s club. For Leather Night, no less.

All by herself. Carlie had waffled and then confessed she wasn’t ready to dress in sexy leather. “I’d look like a piglet in a sack,” she’d wailed miserably. Daisy wished her friend would get over her insecurities, because she was voluptuous, not fat, and because Daisy could really use some moral support. She hadn’t even had the courage to ask Sara to come with her, afraid the no-nonsense teacher would lecture her. Or hand her a pile of books about BDSM and demand she read them before they met again.

And speaking of paperwork, where was the signed release form? She dug in her tiny black purse and felt the reassuring crackle of paper. She felt like a kid going on a field trip—did she have a permission form signed by one of her parents? Ooh, thinking about parents, not good right now. They would so not approve of this excursion.
 

Dana might think it was okay. Maybe someday if this worked out Daisy would share with her.

Slowly, taking calming breaths, she walked across the parking lot toward her destination. The big old house loomed among the trees planted around it, a pocket of mysterious quiet illuminated only by the old-fashioned globe streetlamps. They rimmed the parking lot and lined the walk up to the broad veranda of the Craftsman-style home. Which was now home to fantasy.

The only indication that she was in the right place was the large brass number three to the left of the entry door. Daisy pushed on the old-fashioned door, half expecting it to be locked, but the handle moved smoothly under her hand, and she pushed the door open.

She stepped into a foyer lined in dark gleaming wood and burgundy paint. A pretty brunette wearing a leather bustier, miniskirt and choker smiled at Daisy over a concierge desk. “Good evening. May I help you?”

Daisy curved her own lips up, hoping her smile didn’t look as false as it felt. “Hi…I’m Daisy. Dack, um, invited me.”

“Welcome, Daisy. Dack said you’d be coming in. I’m Rochelle. I have some paperwork for you to sign before I take you in.”

Daisy held up the paper. “Already read it online and signed it.”

“Okay. Wow, you’re the first to do that. New website.” Rochelle took the paper from Daisy, perused it quickly and then set it on the desk, smoothing it out with her hand. “In that case, I just have to inform you that we have a new tradition at Club 3. The keys. If you—”

The door opened behind Daisy, and the receptionist glanced past her. Oh geez, that’s right, there were going to be other people here tonight, strangers. Doing things, and watching. This was real—no more imagining.

Rochelle stared at the newcomers, her mouth open, frozen in midspeech.

“Hey, Rochelle.”

Daisy looked over her shoulder. A tall, handsome man with coffee-hued skin and short black hair crossed the foyer, his arm around a buxom redhead. He wore black leather pants and a vest, while the woman wore a red leather minidress and a choker much like Rochelle’s, only the redhead’s had an old-fashioned key hanging from it.

The redhead eyed Daisy and the receptionist with narrowed eyes, but the man smiled and winked at both Daisy and Rochelle, his white teeth flashing. He paused to tap a few numbers into an electronic pad beside a beautiful carved wood door. The door swung silently open, and the couple passed on.

Daisy’s tummy jumped with excitement. In a few moments, she was going to walk through that door, and her night would begin.

She turned back to the receptionist, only to frown in dismay. Rochelle’s café-au-lait face had gone pale, her lipsticked mouth quivering. “Hey, are you okay?”

The girl nodded quickly. “I’m—I’m fine,” she quavered. She stared down at the desk as if she’d forgotten Daisy was there. Something about the other couple had disturbed the receptionist. Ex-boyfriend, Daisy would bet. Only maybe Rochelle hadn’t known he was ex, quite yet.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Daisy asked gently.

Rochelle gathered herself with an obvious effort. “Yeah. Um—you can go in, if you’re ready. Dack should be here soon. The bar is—is in the main room. Margaritas tonight.”

She pushed a button under the desk, and the big wooden door opened again.

“Enjoy y-your night,” the receptionist said with a shaky smile.

“Thanks. I hope yours gets better.”

Wow, just like that, she was in. She’d expected more of a spiel somehow. Maybe Dack would give her that. Dack—was he inside?

Daisy walked through the door, her heart thumping in tune with the music pulsing through the room beyond. She was in a large, shadowed room, the main reception area of the old house. At the back of the room, a staircase slanted up across the wall. The middle of the room had been turned into a dance floor, with several couples moving to the beat of a dance number. A DJ hovered over a small station with colored lights pulsing. Small tables ringed the dance floor, while a long, art deco bar straight from the 1920s lined the wall on the left.

There were two bartenders, a man and a woman, both attired in brief leather vests and white collars with little bow ties attached. Two couples perched on stools at the bar, while three single men leaned against it, one of them flirting with a barmaid. Daisy blinked and looked again. The barmaid wore only a bustier and a thong. Her ass was bare. It was a toned, tanned and really small ass, but it was bare nonetheless.

One of the men at the bar, a handsome blond in jeans and a leather vest, started across the room in front of Daisy, then veered toward her, a smile dawning on his face as he looked her over.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he said. “Here by yourself?”

She nodded, enjoying his admiration, especially as she had a lot more clothing on than the barmaid. “I am.”

“Great.” He dug in his jeans pocket and produced a key. But not just any key, it was large and curved at the top with a long narrow shank. Old-fashioned, as if it had been used to open this house when it was a home. He held it out to her on the palm of his hand. “I’m Kevin.”

Daisy looked at it. What was she supposed to do? Admire it? The receptionist had mentioned something about keys, but she hadn’t finished.

“Go ahead,” he urged, stepping closer. “Take it.”

With a shrug, Daisy took the key. “Um, thanks. I’m Daisy.”

“No, thank you, Daisy,” he said, his grin widening. “Listen, don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”

He strode past her toward the right side of the room. She tracked him. Oh, right. Bathrooms were in that corner.

She strolled on toward the bar. She had to walk around a large bowl on an illuminated stand. The crystal bowl was partially full of small cellophane packages. At first glance Daisy thought the jewel-toned contents were candy. Then she blinked as she realized that the bowl contained condoms. She bit back a snicker. Okay…that was good, considering why they were all here.

Another of the single men, an extremely fit guy with his head shaved, walked toward her. Strutted was more like it. He was attractive, and he knew it, but it was the twinkle in his eyes that made her smile back. That, and his dark goatee. It suited him perfectly.

“I’m Mason,” he said in a gravelly voice. He sounded like a rock star after a concert.

“Hi, I’m Daisy.”

“You are the most beautiful thing to walk through those doors tonight,” he told her, his eyes still on her face. “How about I buy you a drink?”

She started to nod. She liked this man, liked the fun dancing in his gaze and the way he was focused on her face and not her boobs. She wouldn’t mind having a drink with him until Dack showed up. Then she remembered the blond guy, who was going to be coming back, expecting to have a drink with her.

She opened her mouth. Mason lifted his hand and laid one forefinger over her lips. It was warm and calloused against her skin. She stared at him over it, shocked. He was certainly the bossy type. Was he a dom?

“You like margaritas?” he asked. “It’s margarita night.”

Daisy nodded slowly. He took his finger from her lips. “Good. Have a seat over there, and I’ll bring you one.”

Daisy looked in the direction he pointed. The lights in the room were mainly discreet wall mounts over the bar and colored lights pulsing around the DJ. The back of the room was wreathed in shadows, but Daisy could make out a sitting area with big leather sofas and chairs.

“Here.” Looking back at Mason, she found him holding a key out to her. It was black.

A petite, curvy blonde in a tight blue leather dress was walking toward them. She paused, looking from Daisy to Mason to his key. Her full mouth sliding into a disappointed pout, she turned and walked away.

The key thing again. Daisy took it with a shrug, since he didn’t seem to want her to talk, and he winked at her. “Go on. I’ll be right over.”

Daisy put Mason’s key in her small purse and skirted the dance floor, looking for Dack. He wasn’t on the dance floor or among the people seated at the small tables beside it.