“But not so intense.” He ran his finger down her warm cleavage, slid it under the silky fabric, and touched her nipple. “Right?”
She’d gasped, so there was no point in trying to pretend. “You probably shouldn’t do that if you have to see someone in a few minutes.”
He smiled and his voice dropped a husky octave. “We could have him come out to the car. How do you feel about exhibitionist sex?”
“The same way you feel about engagement rings.”
He laughed, a teasing light in his eyes. “Then you’ll have to wait. Practice a little patience.” He brushed her jaw with a light sweep of his thumb. “I’ve heard it builds character.”
“Or I could find someone at the club to help me out,” she purred, because he was looking way too smug.
“Somehow I’m thinking no on that,” he said with a quick lift of his brows. “Any guy so much as looks at you, no guarantees.”
“Jeez, now your baddest-dude-in-town jealousy is turning me on.”
“Everything turns you on, pussycat.” He smiled faintly. “It’s one of your many charms.”
“Just everything about you,” she said, fighting the impulse to say more because he’d heard it all a thousand times before. She gave him a lavish grin instead. “Should I apologize?”
“No, I’m flattered.” It wasn’t as though women hadn’t flattered him his entire adult life. But that Nicole did mattered; she gave him joy. Curious word that. Not that he was going to overanalyze his feelings. Therein lay danger.
“At least tell me we don’t have to stay long.”
He pulled her into his arms. “We don’t. I just need to find out why Ganz came in a week early.” He kissed the top of her head. “And you’re not allowed to leave my side. I will require an affirmative on that,” he said gruffly.
She lifted her face to him and whispered, “Yes, sir, whatever you say, sir.”
He groaned. “We’re going to have to make this a supershort visit.”
But his partner, Tomi Nureki, was waiting outside when the car pulled up to the entrance of the private club.
“What the fuck,” Rafe muttered.
“Trouble?”
“I hope not, but Ganz is a total cokehead. We’ll know in a minute.” He was out of the car before Simon came to a complete stop and motioning Tomi over before he turned to help Nicole out.
A moment later, Rafe said, “Tomi, Nicole Parrish, Nicole, Tomi Nureki. Is he crashing?”
“Getting there. Hi, pleased to meet you.” The tall, handsome Eurasian man, dressed in jeans and a blue button-down shirt, smiled at Nicole. “Come on in. Ganz is in one of the banquettes in the back room.” His brows flickered. “Entertaining everyone with his favorite topic. The corruption of civilization.”
Rafe sighed. “Great.”
“Yeah, no shit.” Tomi waved them toward twin bronze doors. “If this wasn’t a private club I’d worry one of his numerous enemies would take him out.”
“We all have enemies,” Rafe murmured.
“Some more than others. Ganz has a way of pissing off people.”
The men were walking side by side and speaking softly.
“Our security is—”
“Ramped up,” Tomi murmured. “At least while he’s in town.”
Rafe turned back to Nicole and smiled. “Sorry, business.”
“I understand. That’s why you’re here.” But she’d heard the word enemies, so understood it wasn’t about something benign. With an uncle like Dominic, who traveled with a security detail and who had additional security teams for his family, she was aware of the dangers in great wealth.
Two huge doormen/bouncers in black T-shirts and slacks guarded the entrance, although other less visible protection was on duty as well.
“Evening, Rafe,” they said in unison and swept the doors open.
“Hi, guys. Busy night?”
“Every night, boss. The rich and famous like to party.”
Which was the reason Rafe and Tomi had opened the private club. No tourists, no wannabes, no oligarchs who traveled with muscle, no strangers. Mostly no strangers.
The three made their way past a welcoming committee of five female concierges seated behind desks in the large entrance hall—a virtual UN array of stunning beauty dressed in matching Chanel Pop Art summer dresses.
Rafe greeted the ladies with a smile as they passed through the large rosewood-paneled chamber, drawing Nicole by the hand past five gazes that turned icy when they focused on her.
“Have you slept with all of them?” she whispered, once they cleared the gauntlet of unhappy women and moved toward an imposing set of trompe l’oeil doors offering a view of the sea. “I’m getting frostbite from their looks.”