It had been a long time since Jack had a woman he could tease. Most read his "go" signal and they were off. Specifically, their clothes. In no time whatsoever.

Solana was unique.

"Who's this then?" Draven sneered at Solana, who trudged over to their table, Jack following, appreciating the view.

He'd convinced Draven to return to The Peppermint Stick again tonight. Convince might be too strong a word as the man had been high most of the day and as long as there were women displaying more skin than clothing and plenty of alcohol, preferably both at the same time, Jack was sure Draven would've gone to a back alley in a thunderstorm.

But Jack wanted to come back, a desire he hadn't felt in a long time itched inside him. All to do with the woman who tried to spill drinks on him. The woman who stepped away from him without a care. The woman with the hazel eyes laced in fire.

"Solana will be looking after all our needs tonight." Jack gestured to the woman he hadn't taken to his room last night.

That other woman, red dress aside, had been great packaging, but not much of a package. Sure, she was pliable, willing, only his restraint had stopped them from giving the elevator cameras an exclusive. There was no objection to forgoing the bed in his room and taking her as soon as he withdrew a condom from his pocket in the entryway to his suite. They'd begun with a bang. The problem was he couldn't get to the bang finish.

Face pressed against the wall, she uttered baby this and baby that in a high-pitched voice until he'd stuck his fingers in her mouth to shut her up. Far too fast, he could sense her tightening around his cock, her release coming and his body, although erect and ready, nowhere near that stage. She'd have to wait. His wants were what counted here.

The rare times Jack found himself in a similar situation, he could achieve the desired result by using his imagination. He buried his head in her long black hair and pretended the girl in the red dress was his ex-wife. He ignored the nose full of cheap chemical smelling shampoo and recalled the many occasions he'd been in this same position with Ali. Pictured in his mind her smooth skin grazing against his, her blue eyes twinkling with desire, lips expanding as he spilt into her.

Except, unlike the other times, the vision failed. He couldn't get there, find the surrender he desired. Frustrated, he pushed further and further into the woman, insisting on satisfaction. His body demanded to unleash the tension of the day, the needless wait at the airport for his plane to taxi to the gate, the negotiations on the deal Blackhorne Incorporated required to distribute their newest must have drug that were taking too long to conclude. He needed to feel again, if only for a fleeting moment, freedom. The bliss of the other realm where he was simply a man, not the head of a multi-faceted corporation depending on him to make and take more.

Desperate, Jack tried other memories. Ali on her knees at her parent's golf club with the tantalizing threat of being caught looming on the other side of the door, the backseat of the limo where he knew George could hear her satisfied screams, even in their bed. Nothing worked. He hauled up the memory of the woman he was deep in when Ali walked into his office, the expression of shock on his ex's face. Nada. The maid he'd ravaged in the closet at the Stinson Manor as Ali lingered in the hallway, mere feet away. Nothing moved him over the goal line.

He was about to admit defeat when his mind dredged up the vision of hazel eyes burning as they glared at him. The memory of the server earlier that evening, the woman who spilled her tray of drinks over her crisp white shirt, revealing the thin line of lace cupping her right breast. How he'd like to run his tongue along the red stained line, suck on the alert nipple, offering itself to him.

Little Jack throbbed; the rush of adrenaline hit his veins. Then spiked as his world turned red. With a groan, sweet release exploded from him and Jack found oblivion. He shoved aside the substitute woman and fell into the nearest chair, head logging back, legs splayed, relishing the relief, the freedom, the satisfaction.

The real version of the woman he'd needed last night now stood before him, hand on her hip. Jack couldn't help dropping his gaze to the flimsy shirt Solana had on today. Here in the dark of the club the material managed to hide the secrets beneath, but back in the stairwell, with its fluorescent lighting, he'd seen enough to know her bra was light pink, not white and there was a tear in the lace where it met the thin strap.

Her breasts were smaller than he was used to, but beautifully formed, perky and he imagined they would have a good bounce when giggled. He wanted to sample them, take them for a test run to determine if his theory was right. His gaze ran along her curves, taking in her petite form, small waist, toned legs, down to her plain, flat shoes. Back in the stairwell, she'd had to climb up two steps to meet his eye. He'd enjoy finding the perfect pair of strappy spiked shoes to slip those toes into, have her parade around his suite in nothing but the stilettos and her birthday suit. Or better yet, truss her up in lacey lingerie from Coco De Mer or a strapless gown. He'd hire Richard Alton to design a custom dress, one that accentuated her round ass and gave him unfettered access.

Solana tapped her tray, dragging his attention back to her face. "All your alcoholic needs." Her ice-cold tone belied the heated glare she bestowed on Jack as she reminded him of their bargain. A delicate hand reached over and plucked the empty bottle of Veuve out of the ice bucket. "Another one of these?"

Draven's head bobbed, either in agreement or in a stupor, probably both. Jack waved him off. He couldn't make the evening that easy on her. A bottle of champagne took a few glasses to drain, leaving his new toy with nothing to do, which meant not paying attention to him. No, he needed to keep her hopping. Keep the flame in her stare stoked.

"Shots."

The single word stole Draven's attention from whatever he'd been focusing on or not focusing on. "Yes. Let's do Patron before Fisher and Travis get here."

Jack settled into the black leather couch and smirked up at Solana. "Can you manage that?"

"I'll bring a bottle."

"No, no. We might want something different next." He would keep her on her toes, at his beck and call, where she should be. Until his interest waned. "Just the two shots, three if you'd like to join us."

"I don't drink when I'm working." Solana gripped her tray, the tips of her fingers turning white.

"Such a shame. A little alcohol might loosen the stick stuck up your—"

Despite her rude attitude, as she strode over to the bar, Jack admired the sway of Solana's hips. They went well with her ass. He'd had a fine time staring at her rounded rear in those tight black pants as they climbed the stairs to her manager's office. Memories filed away for later use.

"Spot someone." Draven drooled beside him, following his gaze. Jack turned to his glassy eyed friend. They'd met in boarding school, randomly paired to live together out of the batch of boys leaving home for the first time. Unlike Jack's parents, Draven's were alive. They just didn't care. Remarried to new spouses and living on different continents, neither was interested in the only son from their union and rarely called, never mind visited. Unlike Jack's guardian and uncle, who enjoyed popping by his old alma mater and showing the boys a good time.

"Feeling like a brunette tonight. You?" A slight slur in Draven's words.

Across the bar, Solana ran her fingers through her closely cropped ash almost white hair as she laughed with the bartender. "Might try blonde for a change."

"You hate blondes. Say they aren't a challenge." His companion's lips spread revealing straight white pearly teeth Jack knew were capped, the originals crooked. "Which is exactly why I love' em."

"Have to sample one now and again to ensure I'm not wrong."

Draven picked up his glass and drained the dregs of the champagne circling the bottom. "Thought you were never wrong."

"You know me so well."

They followed the ounces of tequila with a round of Alabama Slammers and those with two turns of Peppermint Twists, a house specialty. Fisher and Travis arrived, called for two more bottles of champagne, and got in on the game of who could order the best shot. The newcomers all but ignored Solana, neither paying attention to the server whose job it was to wait on them hand and foot. Fisher insisted on a round of Flaming Blue as a jab at Jack.

"Bastard." Jack spat, the inside joke a reference to his ex-wife. "Solana, I need payback. What do you recommend?"

Through each round, Solana stood off to the side, leaning against the wall, refusing to engage with the men. Fisher had asked her to take a seat, offering his lap, and Jack enjoyed the expressions of disbelief and disgust filtering across her face before landing on disinterest as she attempted to be professional. He chuckled to himself at her lack of poker face before making a show of defending her honour in front of the boys. Jack could put on quite a performance when he desired. Even played a convincing good boy when needs must.

Solana had rebuked his gallant attempt. Now, she pushed herself off the wall and moved in front of the low table separating the rest of the bar from the leather couches the four men sat on. "I'd suggest a Redheaded Slut, but I think this dude's had a few too many already." Draven and Travis let out low whistles, and Jack internally congratulated her on the dig. "How about a Prairie Fire?"

Fisher squinted at her. "What's that?"

Solana placed her fingers on her thighs as she bent over, her shirt gaping with gravity, hinting at the sun kissed skin below. "Tequila with a dash or two of Tabasco. If you can handle the heat."

"Oh, I can handle heat sweet—"

"A round of those." Jack cut Fisher off before he could call her sweetheart. They all used the name for any female they interacted with. Why bother to learn their names when they'd be a distant memory the next day. Still, he didn't want Fisher to set Solana off by using the name. He wanted the privilege all for himself. Biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to slip the name in and watch the world implode before him. Sure she'd make her reaction worth the wait.

Solana straightened and addressed Jack. "As you wish, sir." Her remark sweet, her manner bitter.

Little Jack twitched. Maybe this place had a coat room? Or he could slip the manager Alfonzo another couple hundred for use of his office for an hour. "Aw, why so formal? Call me Jack." Yes, he definitely wanted to hear her scream his name.

"Won't need to know your name in—" she looked at the cheap watch around her wrist "—two more hours."

"Darling, you hurt my feelings. I usually make a lasting impression."

"Nothing a little bleach can't remove, I'm sure."

Draven hooted and slapped the table. "Man, she's got you pegged, Jackie boy."