There was something wrong with the world when the subject of a man’s stamina was more important than a supposed friend’s near murder.
When this operation was over, it might be time to find a new haunt. These clubs were just getting on Morganna’s nerves. Hell, they had been getting on her nerves before Cindy was killed. Morganna loved the dance, but she hated the feeling of being hunted, a slab of meat on the table of sensuality. She sighed at the thought.
“It’s nice to know my near demise blipped your radar, Jenna,” she laughed. “Why don’t you go play? I need to chill out for a while. It’s been a killer week.”
As Morganna watched the crowd, she was aware of Jenna’s probing look.
“You’re looking for a new Dom,” Jenna piped up. “You’ve dropped Craig then?”
“Craig never had me; he was just in the running. That’s all.”
“Who else was in the running?”
Morganna turned back to her, aware that the “mouth of the South” title hadn’t been given to Jenna without reason. Her lips quirked. “At the moment, no one. Go play, girlfriend, and let me finish my drink.”
Jenna giggled, a sound that really didn’t suit the thirty-something legal secretary. She hopped off her bar stool, though, and with a little wiggle of her hips headed back into the throng.
Morganna’s gaze slid back to Clint and his little redheaded sub. He was currently caressing her arm absently, running his fingers up and down the slender limb as she clearly telegraphed her arousal, her readiness to fuck.
The perfect little sub. There wasn’t a chance she was going to convince a dealer she had to be drugged to accept Clint.
Morganna sighed. There was no way she could sit there so passively beneath his touch. She watched the girl’s body language, the obvious sense of waiting, of anticipation. It was completely opposite Clint’s. He looked almost bored as he glanced around.
His gaze roved over the dance floor, the crowd, then lifted to the bar. Morganna knew the moment he saw her. His hand paused on the other woman’s arm, his eyes narrowing as his jaw clenched.
Morganna lifted her drink mockingly in recognition of his awareness of her and tilted her head in acknowledgment before she turned away from him again. As luck would have it, her gaze locked on a shadowy corner and the couple there.
The guy was big, tall, and broad; his companion, what you could see of her, was short, full-bodied. Her head was thrown back in pleasure as the man bent to her breasts. Morganna could see very little, but she saw enough to know what was going on.
She swirled the liquor in her glass as she watched with open curiosity. Could she do that? It was damned arousing to watch, to see the sexual act playing out, the way the male lifted the woman, aligning his hips with hers, and moved.
The long skirt of the woman’s dress hid anything from view, but it was more than obvious what he was doing. For a moment, just a moment, Morganna felt Clint’s touch again, his lips at her nipple, his tongue lashing it. His hips between hers, the thick length of his erection grinding against her. The image was broken as someone moved in front of her, then stopped.
She lifted her eyes slowly, amused curiosity filling her as she met the frowning, disapproving gaze of the club’s owner.
He was nearly as tall as Reno, classically lean, but there was muscle beneath that white silk shirt and black European trousers. His black hair was pulled back from an aristocratic face, tied at his nape, and fell below his shoulder blades. Green eyes, as dark as moss, were cool, cynical, as they watched her.
He rarely came out. She had expected to hear from him tonight, but not in person, not like this. He was making a statement; she just wished she knew what that statement was.
“Ms. Chavez. Could we talk? Privately.” The thick Cajun flavor of his voice was dark rather than sensual, almost deadly.
She almost shivered in trepidation, aware of the gazes locked on them. Swallowing tight, she slid from the bar stool, her gaze searching out Craig’s as she followed Masters through a crowd that parted automatically for him.
Craig’s eyes tracked them, obviously concerned. She didn’t dare look for Clint.
“This way, please.” Masters stopped at the entrance to the private hall before stepping aside and extending his hand before him. “My office is just down the hall.”
What the hell had she done? Morganna thought frantically to try to come up with a reason for his sudden notice. Hell, she was one of the lower-key members of his clubs. She came to dance, drink a little, and meet with friends, supposedly. Drage only barred the real troublemakers from his clubs, not little nobodies like her. Unless he wanted something else?
“Here we are, cher.” He unlocked the door with the electronic card before ushering her in. “I was surprised to see you here tonight. I was making plans to head to your residence when my doorman informed me you had arrived.”
“You were?” That one was shocking.
It was all she could do to contain her nervousness as she stepped into the dimly lit, surprisingly old-fashioned office.
“Of course. I had the report you were nearly murdered in my parking lot. I wanted to be certain you were well.”
She stood aside as he moved around her and headed for the desk. A bank of monitors were lit beside the desk, more than a dozen showing varied views of the club. Another set below them were blank.
“Please, sit down.” He gestured to the comfortable leather chairs in front of the wide, dark cherry office desk as he sat down himself and stared back at her through those deep green eyes.
Morganna took a seat, leaning back with false confidence as she crossed one leg over a knee and allowed her foot to swish back and forth as she stared back at him.
“Very cool,” he commented with a slight quirk of full, sensual lips. “You act as though being invited to my office were commonplace. Most women would at least be curious.”
“I’m very curious.” She shrugged her shoulders, all too aware now of the brevity of the half corset and the way the leather cupped her breasts. “But I’ve done nothing wrong, so I can’t exactly be in trouble.”
He leaned back in his chair, steepling his hands in front of him. “I’ve been asked to revoke your membership for a time.” The announcement was delivered with an edge of amusement as she stiffened in response. “I was curious why.”
Her lips opened as she breathed in roughly, then licked over her dry lips as she fought to keep her temper under control.