“Sloane.” Emmy gives her a vehement shake of the head but Sloane carries on undeterred.
“I assume you must know the ex?” she checks, pursing her lips at the thought of Colin Warner.
“I do,” I confirm, wrinkling my nose in a mirror of her distaste.
“Well, it may come as no surprise to you that Emmy’s been a bit… neglected, shall we say.” Sloane gives a theatrical waggle of her eyebrows. Emmy flushes, a deep pink blooming over her cheeks. My jaw tightens as heat coils low in my gut. I grip the bar a little harder than I mean to, grounding myself in the cool wood as my head spins.
“That’s enough, Sloane,” she almost pleads. Sloane soldiers on, regardless.
“And Emmy here is looking for someone – or a few someones – to helptake care of her. Try a few things out.Get to know herself, you know?” She raises her eyebrows and grins at me.
Emmy covers her face with both hands and mutters something that sounds a lot like “I hate you” at Sloane.
“So, can you think of anyone that might fit the bill?” Sloane cocks her head, smile still firmly in place, as if she’s a tourist merely asking me for directions to Big Ben.
Christ. This woman. I’m hanging by a fucking thread as I swallow and clear my throat. I’m still holding a goddamn bar rag.
“I’ll give it some thought,” I reply evenly, returning my gaze to Emmy and flicking the rag into the sink in front of me. It’s not unusual for people to ask me to play matchmaker but I’m here to facilitate intimate connection, not play sexual snap with clients.
“Sloane!” a voice calls from across the bar, as two other regulars arrive through the door. They’re shimmying out of their coats as they wave her over.
“Shit, be right back!” she says, jumping down from her stool and zipping across the bar to greet her friends, leaving Emmy alone with me. She’s still covering her face and groaning.
I lean over to squeeze her shoulder. “You ok in there?” I ask and she mumbles something I can’t make out.
I lift my hands to her face and gently prise hers away from her cheeks. She finally looks at me with a mixture of embarrassment and something akin to sadness.
“Hey,” I say softly, invading her space. “Don’t hide from me, ok? I don’t know what I can do to help you yet but you never have to hide from me.”
She gives me another look I can’t quite read and a small smile.
“I can’t lie to you, Luke, I’m a tad shocked. And after hearing Sloane describe my, uh… situation, I’m feeling rather exposed.” She swallows and I track the movement of her throat. She sighs as I lean back slightly to grab a bottle of red from the back of the bar.
“I can’t believe you run a sex club, Luke,” she adds, with a soft laugh. “It’s so fucking cool. Always the quiet ones,” she muses as I pour her a large glass of malbec and set it down in front of her. She gives me a grateful smile.
“Wine’s your best bet tonight – two of my bartenders went down with norovirus and we’re short-staffed. I’m not normally allowed to make cocktails but desperate times.” I shrug and she grins.
“Well, I know from experience that you can pour a mean glass of red. Cheers,” she says, taking a sip. She turns and looks around the club, eyes returning to the Shibari demonstration that’s reaching its conclusion. I watch her, shamelessly, as she takes in the plush velvet booths, the shadowy alcoves, and the entry to the playrooms just off the bar.
Her throat works again and I resist the urge to touch her, to feel her pulse flickering against my fingertips.
“This place is beautiful, Luke.” She turns back to me, her expression soft, her cheeks once more flushed a delicate pink.
Her eyes are still on mine as she finishes her wine and slides off her stool. “Tell Sloane I caught a cab, ok?” I nod, watching as she pulls her coat on.
“Will you be ok getting home?” I ask.
“I’m not a kid anymore, I’ll be fine.”
Don’t I bloody know it. She hasn’t been a kid since she came home from university, all hips and curves and smart ideas.
“I know, Em.” We exchange another long look, something shifting in the air between us. I’m about to open my mouth to say something when she speaks.
“Be seeing you, Luke,” she says, and without a backwards glance, she strolls out of Salt and up into the night.
CHAPTER 15
Emmy
