Sex & The Single Girl. Joanne Rock

cue, the club’s head chef, Giselle Cesare, burst through the office door. A petite, dark-haired Italian-American, Giselle was a nonstop bundle of energy. She balanced a tray of exotic drinks topped with fortune cookies in one hand. “I thought the start of our new venture deserved a toast.” She lowered the tray of drinks on to the desk with a flourish. “Introducing the Good Fortune Potion, newest specialty of the house.”

      While Summer squealed, Brianne hurried to stuff a glass in Lainie’s hand. Lainie was having a difficult time getting over the fact that her husband had not only embezzled half her money, he’d also indulged in a quick affair with Giselle before he’d skipped town. What Lainie didn’t seem to understand was that the bastard had hurt Giselle nearly as much in the process, providing her with more guilt than a guileless twenty-five-year-old deserved. Giselle had had no idea that the man had been married.

      But even Lainie seemed to catch the momentary spirit of camaraderie and she sipped at her drink, too.

      “This is awesome.” Brianne raised her glass to the chef and temporary bartender. “But before we toast the grand opening, I wanted to suggest we open our doors a little earlier than we anticipated to try and minimize the crowds out front. There are already journalists swarming and I don’t want our guests getting hassled about the club’s old scandals.” Nor did she want to miss her stepfather’s nemesis, agent Aidan Maddock, if he tried to get in the disco tonight.

      Lainie and Summer were both shaking their heads before she finished. Lainie set her fortune cookie on a cocktail napkin atop Brianne’s shiny lacquered desk.

      “We want the press, Bri, even if it’s negative,” she argued. “And we definitely don’t want to lose the long line out front as that’s one of the main elements of cachet for a hot spot.”

      “Not to mention the moon is void of course until almost eleven tonight,” Summer added, clutching one of her crystal necklaces as if for good luck. “We agreed to open at eleven because by then the moon will be entering Aries and the stars will be in a favorable position for the new venture.”

      Brianne focused very hard on her fortune cookie to prevent herself from rolling her eyes. “But it’s difficult for the surveillance cameras to detect images with the bright lights of the television crew glaring into their lenses. I’d hate to have a security breach our first night because we failed to take a few simple precautions.”

      Brianne recognized the importance of security measures. Her last relationship before she’d left New York had been with a guy who couldn’t seem to take no for an answer. If not for her techno-gizmos and stepped-up security measures, she might have actually been concerned for her personal safety. Did it hurt to be a little careful?

      “I could send some of my erotic pastries out to the TV group,” Giselle offered, tapping one short, efficient fingernail on her glass. “That might distract them a little longer until we’re ready to open the doors.”

      “Send some of the Kama Sutra cookies,” Summer urged, “those pretzel positions ought to keep the crew intrigued for at least another hour.”

      Lainie shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to waste her most delicate work on the media.” She sniffed in distaste at the word. But then, all of the members of Club Paradise’s new ownership had been scrutinized in the news over the past few weeks. “I think most of the reporters are male, so I bet a box of the doughnuts with cherry nipples ought to be distraction enough. Good thinking.”

      Brianne exchanged surprised glances with Summer. The compliment was the most civil exchange Giselle and Lainie had managed all month.

      “Is that okay with you, Bri?” Lainie asked.

      “It ought to work. Heaven knows I wouldn’t want to disrupt our moon timing.”

      “We all want tonight to be a success, don’t we?” Summer asked, unoffended. “A little help from a favorable celestial alignment couldn’t hurt.”

      “Neither could a toast,” Brianne agreed, lifting her Good Fortune Potion high in the air. “To the success of Club Paradise.”

      “To a feast for the senses,” added Giselle, clinking her glass in time with her words.

      Lainie rose to her feet. “To a fat bottom line and sweet, financial revenge.”

      Summer sidled over to the group. “And for crying out loud, girlfriends, let’s have a little fun while we’re at it. May we all enjoy the single life at its absolute, delicious best.”

      Their collective clank of glasses sent Good Fortune Potion spilling down their arms and to the floor as they christened their partnership and began a friendship.

      1

      THE PROMISED FORECAST of raining men had turned into an outright downpour. Too bad Brianne couldn’t seem to enjoy all that testosterone right now.

      She slipped away from the sizzling salsa beat and raucous voices in the disco’s Moulin Rouge Lounge to seek the privacy of her office. Not only because she’d never been that much of a party girl, but also because she took tonight’s job seriously.

      After the Rat Pack embezzlement and the difficulties the new ownership had faced getting Club Paradise back on track, Brianne wasn’t about to risk any security breaches to land them in tomorrow’s newspapers. From the safety of her high-tech office haven, Brianne could survey lovers’ quarrels on the dance floor or cat-fights near the ladies room—anything with the potential to attach more scandal to the club’s name.

      She’d be damn sure nothing happened on her watch. Not with her entire life savings wrapped up in the club now.

      Her finger settled over the mouse on her computer to click through the security monitors in the unused portion of the hotel. There shouldn’t be any activity in the resort rooms tonight, just empty scaffolding and paint cans that were part of Summer’s massive decorating overhaul.

      She clicked on autopilot, zipping through the views of the former Sweethearts Suite, the Lovebirds Nest and the excessively gilded Honeymoon Heaven. She was about to flip screens back to the lounge when a movement in Honeymoon Heaven caught her eye.

      Instantly alert, Brianne pressed a few more buttons to tell the camera to zoom in on a shadowy figure crouched beside the bed. Nerves tense, she waited as the lens refocused and lightened the picture at her command.

      Lo and behold, the dark shadow slowly rose from the floor and turned into a huge bear of a man. Standing at a good six-foot-four, he dwarfed the delicate white, heart-shaped bed. His dark hair reached his collar, a bit overgrown and as tousled as if he’d just crawled out of bed with an overenthusiastic woman. A short Fu Manchu beard-mustache combo gave him the trendy-scruffy look of South Beach.

      He wore a Harley T-shirt with jeans that had seen better days. Reflective sunglasses perched in his hair even though it was well past midnight.

      And for the second time in her life, Brianne thought he was the most unusual-looking FBI agent she’d ever seen.

      After ten years, Aidan Maddock hadn’t changed a bit.

      Her heart jumped a bit out of rhythm as she stared at the object of her eighteen-year-old fantasies. She’d half expected to see him tonight, given his unrelenting pursuit of her ex-stepfather’s criminal activities. Did Aidan really think she’d be hiding her crooked old man under the bed in the Honeymoon Heaven?

      She needed to get him out of the club. And she would go confront him. Soon.

      For now, she couldn’t resist another minute or two to just look her fill. She’d wondered during her years working in the film industry in New York if she’d imagined how intriguing-looking Aidan had been.

      She hadn’t.

      Perhaps it was merely the producer-director in her that so enjoyed watching the way his big body moved, the way he dominated his environment at every turn. But her accelerated breathing led her to think her reaction had very little to do with her work as a director.

      And