“I’m Rhett,” he told her.
Of course he was. Shawn squeezed her mouth shut so he wouldn’t see her desperately trying not to laugh. She imagined using a fake name was what you did in a place like this, but seriously? Rhett?
“Well, then I guess that makes me Scarlett,” she told him.
RHETT Ford saw the dark blonde the minute he came around the corner. She was smiling at her friends, and she looked relaxed, casual, dressed simply in jeans and a purple sweater that had fallen off one shoulder. Her friends were dressed similarly, and given that he’d never seen her at The Wet Spot before, he suspected she was someone just like him—curious and turned on by kink, but not sure where to start.
Aside from the fact that he was immediately attracted to her, she also didn’t appear to be the type that he’d always gone for, and which had always resulted in total disaster. He had a firm habit of choosing the shy, unassuming girls, like the blond twin currently standing next to the woman who had caught his eye, and invariably he scared the shit out of every single one of them. They all ran, terrified. Like his latest mess of a relationship with Lexi.
So this was a conscious choice, to be approaching a woman who looked confident and amused by her surroundings. He didn’t even mind that she thought he was giving her a fake name. Though God knew, if he had a choice of names, he never would have picked Rhett. It had been the bane of his existence almost since birth. If he went for an assumed identity, he probably would pick Bill or Dave. No one could poke fun at a Dave.
Leading the woman by the hand to the back bar where there was a dance floor, Rhett glanced back at her. She was checking out his ass. Now that was promising. He had never actually hooked up with anyone he had met here, since for the most part, he had just been observing and working out his own personal sexual interests, but he was definitely intrigued by this so-called Scarlett. When they got to the small dark room, where only half a dozen people were moving to the baby-making music, he pulled her into his arms and studied her face.
She met his gaze steadily, her hands snaking up to wrap around his neck. He was tall, but so was she, and while he had to bend down to make eye contact, it wasn’t significant. Her eyes were an amber color, and they were shining with amusement and, if he wasn’t mistaken, attraction. As they swayed, his hands lightly on her trim waist, he gave her a slow smile.
“So what brings you here?” he asked her.
Her response wasn’t flirtatious, nor was it cryptic. It was just matter-of-fact. “Information.”
“Are you a reporter? A blogger?”
“No. We’re four women who like to be right. This is my friends’ attempt to prove me wrong.”
Interesting. Bored housewives? He couldn’t check her ring finger to see if she was married, but then again, if she was looking for a good time, she would take her ring off anyway. If she was, he would be disappointed. Married women weren’t his thing. He was loyal and committed to a single woman at a time, and he had no desire to serve as an itch scratcher for a restless spouse.
“How so?”
“I didn’t think people came to places like this. Apparently they do.” She gave him a wry smile. “So why are you here?”
He had no problem being honest. Another lesson hard learned. He needed to be up-front about his desires. “I’m looking for the right woman for me. One who likes to be led in bed.”
She gave a little laugh. “Oh, really?”
“Really.”
“Uh-huh.”
Rhett wasn’t sure if he should be offended or not. He did know he was turned on. There was something very compelling about the way she never broke eye contact. What could be hotter than a woman submitting to his desires but doing so out of titillation, boldly? Nothing, as far as he was concerned. But he was getting ahead of himself. Which was evidenced by her dropping her arms to halt his creeping progress lower and lower on her back. He was at the curve of her ass when she reprimanded him, gripping his hand to stop it.
“Hey now, sport, watch the sticky fingers.”
Rhett grinned. “Don’t you mean wandering hands? I’m not trying to steal your wallet.”
“Whatever,” she said dismissively. “You know what I mean.”
“I do.” He kept his hands far above the erogenous zone, wanting to respect her limits. “So give me your number.” The song was almost over, and who knew what would be played next. She might use a booty-grinding song as an opportunity to leave the floor and return to her girlfriends. He didn’t want to waste time.
Her eyebrows shot up. “That’s a little presumptuous, don’t you think?”
“You never get what you want if you don’t ask.”
“How old are you?” she asked suddenly, putting more space between them as they swayed to the bass pumping R&B.
So that was it. She was older than him. “Old enough to know what I want.”
“You’re younger than me.” It wasn’t a question. She seemed certain of it.
“Frankly, Scarlett, I don’t give a damn.” Might as well make his stupid name work for him.
She gave a short laugh, smiling at him. “Nice. Corny, but effective. What’s your real name, by the way? I only give my number to Clark Kent, not Superman.”
He liked the sound of that. She was going to cough up her phone number, and he was suddenly glad she’d shifted away slightly because he was getting hard. There was something about her that he found seriously arousing, and she didn’t seem intimidated by what he’d told her, which further turned him on. “It really is Rhett.”
A flicker of annoyance crossed her face.
But before he could pull out his driver’s license and prove it, her friend approached them. “Shawn!” she said, urgently.
So her name was Shawn. It suited her. Unusual, unique. The tomboy who grew up to be a sexy woman. Or so he would guess, given the muscle tone of her waist and arms, and the perky lift of her backside. This girl liked sports, or at least the gym.
“Sorry to interrupt, but we need to leave. Emergency. Let’s go, now.”
Shawn stopped moving to the music entirely and dropped her hands to her sides. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. We just have to go. Come on.” The blonde wouldn’t look at him at all, and when there was a hesitation on Shawn’s part, she actually took her friend’s hand and pulled her away.
“Wait,” Rhett said. “I still want your number.”
But to his disappointment, Shawn just gave him an apologetic smile and a wave. “Nice to meet you,” she said, as she was dragged away.
Rhett was left standing on the dance floor having a whole hell of a lot of sympathy for Prince Charming when he’d been ditched. But unlike Cinderella, Shawn didn’t leave any clues behind.
“WHAT is going on?” Shawn asked Charity, fighting the urge to glance back at the hot hunk of man flesh she’d left on the dance floor. Despite ticking her off a little with his refusal to give a real name, she had to admit, her interest was peaked. Along with her nipples.
“We have to go because of that guy you were talking to.”
“What? Why? And where are Eve and Harley? And stop yanking on me. You’re going to pull my arm out of the socket.” Shawn followed Charity out the front door, the cold February air hitting her with a smack as she pulled on her coat that Charity shoved at her.
Eve was pacing to the left of the door, looking anxious. She darted her eyes behind Shawn. “He didn’t follow you, did he?”
“No. Why would he follow me? And what is the big deal about that guy?” Had Eve seen him on America’s Most Wanted? Was he a Gone with the Wind–inspired serial killer? First he dressed you in drapes, then he threw you down the stairs?