Fiery Nights Read Free

deep voice,
as sexy as Alan Rickman’s but with the accent of someone who grew up on the
North Shore. Amazing how a sexy accent can affect your reaction to the opposite
sex.
    He bowed slightly to take my hand and kiss it. The tingle
that shot from his hand on mine, his lips on my skin, did something to me that
I still can’t logically explain.
    It really must have been too long since I’d been out and
interacting with the male species.
    “Mr. Stone is the new owner,” Byron explained. “He put a lot
of attention into rebuilding the club.”
    “And you’re leaving so soon?” he said, never breaking our
gaze. “What a shame. I hope it’s not that the club doesn’t live up to your
expectations.”
    Several seconds passed while my eyes traveled from his dark
ones down to stare at lips that I could kiss for days—”interface with,” as the
guys at work said when geeking out talking about girls. Suddenly aware that I
still hadn’t uttered a word, I said, “No, it’s not that, Mr. Stone. It looks
great. I don’t want to overdo it. Haven’t used these dancing legs in a long
time.”
    “Please call me Tristan. Come, Maya, I’m not convinced. Let
me show you around. Maybe get a drink. I’d love to get input from a former
regular to see if we’re missing any of the old charm.”
    He took my hand and warmth once again spread from where he
touched me all through my body. I controlled my racing pulse for a moment to
turn back and look at Byron. His mouth was half-open in shock, but then he
recovered in time to wag his finger in front of his face with a naughty grin.
    I shrugged back at Byron before Tristan reopened one of the
doors into the main club area leading us back into Dante’s Inferno as hinted at
by the sign. As Tristan led me into the loud music and pulsing energy in the
club, I thought, What am I getting into?
    He pointed out some of the new features of the club, the new
live stage and a newer bar. Polished black marble graced the top of a dark
mahogany carved-wood bar, with scenes of ancient rites of what looked like
naked witches dancing around a cauldron carved into the front panels. Stone
gargoyles still guarded the bar from perches on either end as well as from
various locations high above the walls.
    We walked over to the bar and he asked, “What would you like
to drink?”
    “I tried a Tempting Fateearlier and it was
smashing.” I tilted my head and peered up at him. “Anything else on the menu
you’d recommend?”
    He stepped back and looked at me. No, appraised me up and
down unabashed. If another guy looked at me that way, I’d rip him in a new one,
but when Tristan did it, it made me blush. Set me on fire.
    I didn’t blush often and I wondered why I was now. Luckily
it was dark in here.
    “I think you deserve a drink as delectable as you look. But
that might be hard to concoct. How about a Hotter Than Hell Bloody Mary . ”
    “Aren’t you a flatterer,” I said, aware that I was
fluttering my lashes like some flirt. “Do you use that line on all the females
here?”
    “Never before. Boy Scout honor.”
    I tilted my head. “Were you a Boy Scout?”
    “No. Does that matter?”
    I shrugged and took a sip of my drink. “Excellent choice,” I
said. I looked around the club. “I like what you’ve done with the place. The
little touches make it unique. And the new drinks are extraordinary. ”
    “Thank you.”
    “No, thank you for buying the club. Saving the place.” Seeing
all the people on the dance floor, I added, “You’ve made a lot of people
happy.”
    “I hope you’re one of them.” He looked at me so intensely
that I felt self-conscious.
    “I am. This is my favorite place for a night out.”
    “I’m very glad to hear that,” he said. “The live music is
what I think will really give this place a new life. We had an old punk band in
here last week. Wicked fun. You’ll have to come and judge for yourself one
night.”
    “I will,” I said. As if I needed another