Chapter One
Luke Dexter handed his keys over to the red-corseted valet driver, his gaze skimming the generous globes peeking above the open buttons of her white shirt. The Sybarite Club definitely offers the Dallas area generous access to every pleasure. He slipped a membership card from his leather wallet and displayed it to the doorman. A tall, lanky figure dressed in topcoat and tails, the man exuded a sense of elegance that the club’s exclusive clientele enjoyed.
Examining the card, he scanned it with a small device before handing it back to him. Luke admired the caginess of the action. A pen scanner would be out of place with the old world atmosphere encouraged by the man’s uniform. “Good evening, Mr. Dexter. Welcome to the Sybarite Club.”
He passed through the opening double wide doors. Their gothic style was dark cherry, aged like a fine wine and decorated with wood cut carvings of a man and woman engaged in cunnilingus and fellatio. The subtle joining left each crying out in pleasure when the door opened, only to be reunited when the doors closed.
Amused by the art, he smiled before plunging into the velvet darkness of the club’s jazz-infused atmosphere. Every night featured a different style of music, but Fridays were reserved for jazz. Old world, cool, smooth music with smoky voices, haunting guitars and lonely horns played to the soul. The doors barely closed behind him when his phone buzzed.
Pulling it out, he thumbed it on. A new message from Madame Evangeline of the 1Night Stand dating service populated the screen. She’s dressed in green silk and sitting at the bar. Remember, Luke, life doesn’t always offer a second chance….
Clicking the screen off, he walked down the four red-carpeted steps into the lounge proper. He’d only agreed to the dating service in a show of solidarity with the men in his unit. Many of his men struggled with reintegration and forming new relationships. He couldn’t excuse himself from that same issue or the expected invitation to the Sybarite Club. His gaze roamed the room, coming to a halt and fastening on a pair of to-die-for tan legs at the bar. The sweet length of them, one crossed over the other and ended in black heels with crystals glittering around dainty feet.
A green skirt skimmed her knees. He studied the line of her back, curious about the rest of her. His gaze slid higher to the pile of unruly auburn hair fighting to escape a pair of crystal hair combs.
As though sensing his appraisal, the mystery woman turned on the bar stool and his heart tripped.
Rebecca….
***
Eleven years earlier….
She raced across the field, the sunrise illuminating auburn hair streaming behind her. Luke paused, football helmet in hand. His heart squeezed every time he saw her. He’d known her since kindergarten, dated her since the day she’d turned sixteen and now in the autumn of their senior year, he couldn’t believe she still showed up two hours early for school every morning just to watch him practice and eat breakfast with him.
The guys razzed him about being whipped, but he ignored their ribbing. After all, he had Rebecca. He opened his arms and braced himself for the crushing hug as she wrapped her arms and legs around him. He adored her enthusiastic greetings. He’d adore them more if he weren’t battered, bruised and battened down in football pads.
“Good morning!” She kissed him, simple, sweet and sensational.
“G’morning, sunshine.” He chuckled, nuzzling the corner of her mouth and the scrape of sugar that alerted him to powdered donuts for breakfast. His heart squeezed again. Powdered donuts were his favorite, but he had a strict diet during the season, a diet that she managed to add at least one powdered donut meal to per week.
Two of the new guys catcalled, but his co-captain, Brent, shoved the whistlers onward to follow the rest of the team. After a year of her openly affectionate displays, the team was used to Lowell High’s lovebirds.
She waved to Brent and leaned back, tilting her head toward Luke. “You didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”
“History paper,” he sighed. “Really couldn’t give a damn about the Archduke Franz Ferdinand, but Mr. Paulette didn’t ask for my opinion.”
“Only the facts, Mr. Dexter, or take a seat and zip it.” She dropped her voice an octave, mimicking their world history teacher. Her perfect white teeth bit her lower lip. “Want me to read it over while you practice?”
“Yes, I’m not too proud to admit it, either. It’s in my backpack.” Setting her down, he carefully avoided giving her rump a good squeeze. As affectionate as she was, she had boundaries. Explicit boundaries he respected. No sex in private or carnal petting in public. Of course, that didn’t stop him from looking at her perfect heart-shaped rear. She always complained about her weight and wanted to lose ten pounds.