Barely Breathing(10)

“Sorry, boss.” His voice was a rich baritone. He glanced back and forth between me and Kane.

“Rosie, that’s Viv. Viv, John Rose. But everyone calls him Rosie.”

“Sorry for interrupting, Viv,” Rosie said, turning his attention back to Kane. “It’s ten o’clock.”

Kane nodded. “Can’t Jeff open it?”

“He’s off tonight.”

“That’s right. Lazy bastard. I’ll be right down.”

Kane stood and met my eyes as Rosie nodded and left the room, barely fitting through the doorway.

“I have to go open the vault for the deposit,” he said in a low tone. “I’m the only one who can do it.”

My heart raced as I looked up at him. I had no more excuses to come back here, and I didn’t want this to be it. I was more intrigued by Kane than I’d been by a man in a long time.

“Thanks for dinner,” I said, standing.

He turned for the door, looking at me over his shoulder. “Thanks for the bartending help.”

“Can we go out sometime?” I blurted, my cheeks warming.

Kane turned around and looked at me, his lips parted with surprise. Several seconds passed. I’d apparently stunned this brawny, hard-edged man into total silence.





Kane

IT TOOK ME A FEW seconds to recover from the shock of what Viv had just said. “Uh . . . you’re saying you wanna go out . . . with me?”

Her cheeks, already a sexy shade of pink, darkened further. “Right. Yes.”

I was thirty-four years old and had never gone out on a date. The women in my world didn’t expect to be wined and dined. Their desires were much more . . . primal.

“But . . .” I wrapped my hand around the back of my neck and exhaled deeply. I didn’t know what else to say. Had she seen me? Did I really look like the kind of guy who rang women’s doorbells with a bouquet in hand?

“You’re already seeing someone.” She looked at the floor like she wanted to sink into it.

Fuck. I hated doing this to her. She was a strong, beautiful woman. Not to mention smart and sexy as hell. How could I tell her it wasn’t her, but me, who was the problem?

“No,” I said, more adamantly than I meant to. She looked up and met my gaze, hope glistening in her big, hazel eyes.

Another few awkward seconds passed.

“It’s fine,” she said, reaching for her bag. “Honestly. Don’t worry about it.”

I couldn’t do this to her. Viv was a woman who deserved better than to put herself out there and feel rejected in any way.

“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, we can definitely go out.”

Her eyes found mine again. And damn, did she have pretty eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Very sure.” I pulled my cell phone from my pocket. “Can I have your number?”

Her shoulders sank with an exhale of relief. How in the hell had I managed to draw the interest of a woman like this? She was stunning. I’d watched guys checking her out at the bar. And how could they not? She was tall, with curves in all the right places, gorgeous eyes, dark waves begging to be pulled just hard enough and a smile that lit the whole goddamned room.

She recited her number and I typed it into my phone.

“I’ll call you,” I said. “Is next weekend okay?”

She nodded, looking like she was trying to hold back a smile. Damn, was I in deep shit. A woman like her deserved a real date, and I didn’t have a f*cking clue how to plan one. I had some recon to do.

Another thing I had no idea how to do was say goodbye to her. I ended up nodding and giving her a half wave before leaving the room.

Smooth, Kane. Really f*cking smooth.

I went downstairs, looking out over the full house on the first floor on my way. I’d been concerned that the novelty of this place would wear off after a few months. Jeff said it wouldn’t, and he’d been right so far.

The strength of this business had to hold up. We were making great money and I was saving and reinvesting, but this was all I had. A guy with a past like mine wasn’t gonna get hired at a regular job.

I opened the vault for the deposit and then locked it back up. I was overdue for rounds of all the areas of the club, so that was up next.

I was about to head back to the kitchen when I saw Rosie. He was standing off to the side of the main floor, just watching.

“What’s goin’ on in here tonight, Rosie?” I asked, standing against the wall next to him.

“Pretty quiet, boss.”

I nodded. Rosie was often a man of few words. It was one of the reasons we got along so well.

“So, uh . . .” I cleared my throat and considered how to approach my question. “I’ve got a customer asking about a good spot to take a woman on a date, and you know I don’t know shit about that stuff. What should I tell him?”

Rosie pressed his lips together as he thought about it. “That steakhouse on the Upper West side’s supposed to be good. It’s on 70th, I think. Or I know of some good French places.”

I scowled. “I don’t think this guy’s into French food. And the steakhouse . . . he could wear regular clothes there, right?”

“If he’s goin’ on a date, dude needs to at least wear a shirt with a collar and nice pants.”