OGs:Deep Down(9)

By: Elle Aycart

He scanned her from head to toe and then back up, and shook his head. “No, nothing I want here.” Then he addressed Red. “Sinful in?”

Kyra’s chest clenched. The pain was so sudden and fierce and unexpected that she gasped.

“Yes. She’s back there. You can—”

“There you are, handsome. Waiting for me?”

At those words he shifted, and Kyra ducked to see a stunning blonde coming at him, her smile blinding.

“Hi, Sinful.” She couldn’t see, but she heard the smile in Mike’s voice. Nothing like the tone he used with Kyra.

The blonde looked toward the counter, at the half-eaten piece of cake, and smirked. “Emergency this early in the evening?”

Red nodded. “You betcha.”

Sinful chuckled, her locks softly swaying, her green eyes sparkling. God, she was a knockout. From the top of her platinum professionally styled hair to the tips of her cute, manicured bloodred toenails.

Kyra hated her on the spot with an intensity that staggered her.

“Follow me, handsome,” she said, glancing at Mike and crooking her finger. Long, sexy, deep-red nails. Perfect for marking Mike’s back the way he liked. “Let’s find some privacy and get down to business.”

Kyra felt like she had been dealt a blow. She gritted her teeth and fought not to lose her composure along with her breakfast.

Not even running into Mike with beautiful, quiet, homey Melanie, the model of an ideal wife Kyra had seen him with several times the first week after her arrival, had been that painful.

“Right behind you.” He walked away, following that voluptuous, swaying ass without looking back even once.

Except for that heated exchange after her foster dad’s funeral over six years ago, he hadn’t spoken to her since they broke up. It figured that once he did, disdain would ooze from his words. As if he was the wronged party. Asshole.

She wanted to run out of there, but she was afraid her legs would buckle the second she stood.

She forced her gaze away from him and realized every female in the place had her eyes glued to his ass. Red, Angie, the pair of cocktail waitresses. Hell, even the stripper had seemed to slow down to check him out.

She stared into her lap. No need to ogle him. She’d done enough of that while sitting in front of him for three straight hours, both in their underwear, with nothing else to do. His body had been tense, but his expression had been completely blank. His eyes looked through her, as if she wasn’t there at all. She, on the other hand, had had trouble controlling her breathing and pretending it didn’t faze her that they were so close to each other.

Why did he have to be so unbelievably gorgeous? Why couldn’t he have grown a beer belly, a second chin, and lost all his hair? Nope, Mike looked even better than seven years ago. At twenty-five he had been a drool-worthy guy. The man he’d become was out of this world, all hard-edged and intense. And full of tattoos. His arms, his pecs. Even his lower abdomen, the V of his hips damn sexy framed with intricate tribal ink. He’d had a few before, but now his body was… Well, his body was a work of art. And not only because of the tattoos. All his muscles were ridged, not an ounce of fat anywhere. He was just frigging perfect.

Red fanned herself with a napkin. “I have a cardinal rule—I don’t hook up with clients, never. Anyone crossing that front door is completely off-limits; the fiasco of my second marriage taught me that, but if that panty creamer would give me the smallest hint he’s interested, I would so be all over him. Half the girls are crazy about him, coming on to him like there’s no tomorrow, but he turns them down. He’s been here several times this past week. Always goes to the back with Sinful. Not sure what’s the deal there.”

Kyra stiffened. She was pretty sure what the deal was. Lap dances were always in the back.

And why that was such a big deal to her, she didn’t know.

“You know each other?” Red asked, looking at Kyra. “There was so much tension in the air I could hardly breathe.”

Kyra tried to relax her tense shoulders. Mike wasn’t her man. He hadn’t been for seven years. It was not her business if he frequented a titty bar and was regularly giving it to a stripper named Sinful. “Long story. Not important.”

“Not important?” Angie sounded incredulous. “You dated him forever, Kyra. All through high school and college. He asked you to marry him.”

Red’s eyes opened wide. “That sex god asked you to marry him?”

“Yes, but I turned him down and signed up with a luxury cruise ship as a dancer.” Then she pinned Angie with her stare. “And you know as well as I do that wasn’t a marriage proposal. For all intents and purposes that was blackmail at its finest.” Which, much as it pained her to admit, had worked. She’d come back to Mike not even a month later, ready to give up her dreams and strike any deal he wanted, to find out he had moved on. That wasn’t all. It hadn’t been enough to sink in the dagger; he’d had to twist it a couple of times.