His gaze returned to the loveseat but he didn’t see Marcia. He saw Kelly as she’d looked an hour ago, her tawny hair curved around her high cheekbones, flirting with her whiskey-colored eyes. Her mouth had looked soft and raw, as if she’d licked off all her lipstick. Though she didn’t dress as suggestively as his continually on-the-make sister, her shirt had been a bit too tight around her breasts.
Perfect handful breasts. Breasts he could imagine biting and sucking until she wrapped those long, long legs around his hips and drew his cock deep inside her pussy.
Marcia let out a short laugh. “Any woman who keeps a running tally of men she wants to sleep with probably isn’t long-term material, Spence. Your standards aren’t always particularly high but even you don’t stoop that low. Though you stoop low enough.”
“I’m really not in the mood for your lectures on morality.” He shuffled through folders but didn’t open any, hoping she’d take the hint and split. Calling her into his office to question her had been a colossal waste of time. She either didn’t know anything or she refused to clue him in, which amounted to the same thing.
“No? What are you in the mood for then, boss? Thought you’d be in better spirits to know how utterly fuckable you are.”
Spencer stuffed the files in the top drawer of his desk, deliberately covering the small purple PDA that had turned his afternoon to shit. Then he slammed the drawer shut and rose, grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair. If Marcia wouldn’t leave, he would. And he knew just where to go.
He limited his trips to the club because he knew greater exposure meant more chances he’d run into someone he knew. Last thing he wanted to do was to advertise his need to watch people getting off. A need Kelly had unintentionally fed. But if he didn’t let off some steam soon, he was going to implode.
“I’ll see you later.” He shut the door behind him before Marcia could so much as sputter.
He had a hell of a lot of energy to burn off, some physical, a lot sexual. He’d put in a couple hours on the machines at the gym, see if any of the guys were up for a game of racquetball. Then he’d head to Kink and get the rest of his kinks out.
Best of all, Kelly Crossman wouldn’t be anywhere in sight.
* * * * *
“You’re not really wearing that, are you?”
Kelly glanced down at her black skintight capris and equally snug hot-pink baby tee. She wiped the back of her neck, already dripping with sweat. It was past 9 p.m. and the heat index had yet to dip below eighty. Welcome to May in Ely, Maryland. The A/C in her apartment was unreliable at best, so she’d probably be up all night long, tossing and turning in her sweaty sheets. And this time it wouldn’t just be from sexual frustration aimed at her boss, Mr. Tall, Blond and Buttoned-Up.
She had a bigger problem. A gigantic, wished-the-earth-would-swallow-her-up dilemma.
Her PDA was missing.
She’d discovered it just before Alana stopped by. She’d checked her pockets and every nook and cranny of her purse, even knowing a PDA couldn’t shrink to the size of a paperclip. But she’d needed to be sure. Then she’d dug through her car. Still nothing. A phone call to work and a couple vague questions also hadn’t done any good.
The damn thing had disappeared.
Alana didn’t seem to get why Kelly was so freaked out, though she knew all about the list. According to Alana, no one would look through her files and even if she’d lost it at work as she feared, someone would return it in no time.
But Kelly knew the truth. All her best friend cared about was getting to the frigging club.
“Uh, yeah. I’m wearing this.” Kelly crossed her arms over her chest. “Why?”
With a harrumph, Alana turned back to Kelly’s closet and started shoving aside hangers.
“What are you doing?”
“Finding you Kink clothes. Jesus, Kel, you’re not going to grab a bite at the Double Burger. You’re going to a club.”
She looked down at herself again. “I’ve gone clubbing in stuff like this before. I’m going to keep you company, not to score. And wait a second. Did you say Kink clothes?”
“Yeah. Kink’s the club we’re going to.” Alana shook back her ink-black curls and tipped her head to examine the dress she’d unearthed. “Now this works.”
Kelly propped her hands on her hips. She’d only worn the simple gold halter-top once because it was a size too small, particularly up top. But the one and only time she’d worn it, she’d gotten really lucky with the fifth guy on her list, so she’d kept it for old times’ sake. “Kink’s a sex club, isn’t it?”
“It’s whatever you want it to be, really. It’s sectioned into three parts—vanilla, Neapolitan and chocolate cherry with nuts. The flavor you choose is up to you.”
“I’ve heard stories but I’ve never been.” Kelly frowned. “Leave it to you to show up in town a couple weeks a year and hit that place up first thing.”
“Honey, you play at being bad and I’m the real deal.” Alana gave her a wolfish grin. “I’m a Neapolitan girl, by the way.”