The Trouble With Temptation (Second Service Book 3)(6)

One look told her he wasn’t a man who slid through life. There was an edge to his smile that spoke of experience, the kind that made him appreciate the good things in life.

“You make a fine drink,” Morgan said. “But we can get swamped on a Friday night. I want to see how you deal with that before I make a firm offer.”

He propped his arms on the bar and leaned forward. “I look forward to proving myself.”

Rounded biceps pulled the sleeves of his shirt tight. Morgan cursed herself silently as she struggled to tear her gaze away.

It was one thing for the girls who walked through her doors to get pulled in by this guy’s charms. But she was his boss, she reminded herself.

His provisional boss.

“The doors open at nine,” she said, bringing herself back to business. “I’ll expect you here at eight. That will give you plenty of time to get to know the place and prepare for your shift.”

“Sounds good.” He picked up his jacket as he came around the bar. He stopped in front of her and extended his hand. “And thank you. I won’t let you down.”

Morgan had to tilt her head back to look into his eyes. His full lips were tilted up in a half-smile. She prayed that the lights were dim enough to hide the blush she could feel starting to creep into her cheeks. She cleared her throat.

“Then I’ll see you at eight, Mr. Daniels.”

She held out her hand. Ty slid his palm against hers. A little bolt of electricity ran up her arm and down her spine.

He nodded. “At eight.”

Morgan watched him walk outside.

Damn. For someone who ran a nightclub, she had to get out more often.





Chapter Three


Ty pulled around the corner and on to Fillmore Street, splitting the lane between two cars. The neon lights from the buildings mixed with the yellow glow from the streetlights, and reflected off the blacktop in a surrealistic blur of color. He pressed the throttle on his Ducati and sped in front of traffic.

On a Friday night, this part of town was packed. The lights shined like beacons to the masses, promising nights to remember. It was almost unrecognizable from the neighborhood he'd driven through this morning, when the sunlight had revealed nothing more than gray storefronts and the apartments above. But the city turned into a different creature at night.

He slowed down just enough to make the turn into the alleyway next to Kincaid’s and coasted the rest of the way. He pulled up between a green Subaru with a faded ‘My other car is a TARDIS’ sticker in the corner of the back window and a shiny black Audi. He kicked down the stand and stepped onto the pavement.

He had just walked around the older car when he saw Morgan standing on the other side of the doorway. Two black trash bags hung from her hands as she struggled with the iron security door. He ran up and held it open for her.

“Thanks,” she said, and stepped down the two small concrete steps.

“No problem,” he said, grabbing one of the heavy bags from her. She hadn’t changed from the grey T-shirt and jeans she’d been wearing that morning. The only difference was that at some point she’d pulled her bright fuchsia hair back into a simple ponytail.

“Don’t you pay people to do this for you?”

She laughed as she lugged the trash over to the dumpster. She lifted herself up on tiptoes as she propped open the lid. “I take it you’ve never run your own business. When something needs doing, you just do it.”

Ty tossed in his bag, and then grabbed hers. She let go of the plastic cover and it crashed down, echoing off the close walls of the alleyway.

Morgan let out a breath and wiped her hands against her pants. “Thanks again.”

He looked down at her for another half-second. “No problem.”

Ty found it hard to pull his gaze away from her face. He told himself it was because, even after their lively meeting this afternoon, he was still having a difficult time figuring her out. Maybe it was because she was so far from what he’d expected. The woman ran the hottest nightclub in the city. He’d imagined short skirts and black high heels, a hard, cutthroat gleam in her eye.

But that wasn’t the woman who was grinning at him with wide caramel-brown eyes. She wore purple canvas shoes and a Star Wars iron-on graphic on her shirt. She laughed easily. She smiled even easier.

Not that it meant anything. Ty had been doing this long enough to know not to put too much stock in first impressions. Gut instincts were fine, but hard evidence was better. And the evidence pointed to all kinds of illegal activity going on inside Kincaid’s.

Ty couldn’t imagine how an owner as engaged as Morgan could possibly be blind to it. No matter what his gut told him. Or how brightly her eyes sparkled in the streetlights.

“You ready?” she said, gesturing toward the door.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Then let’s get to it. The doors open in an hour.”

He followed her inside. She gave him the grand tour, showing him the stockroom, the liquor room, the break room, all the places that he needed to know. He met his co-workers and shook a few hands, including Morgan’s brother, Gregg. Then it was time to start.

The crowds poured in through the doors once they opened. Morgan hadn’t been stretching the truth. One second the club had been empty and the next it was packed. People pushed up against the bar, demanding attention.