Lacey's Night of Sinn Page 2

  She cleared her throat loudly, focusing her energy on the angry woman. Far easier to deal with, for sure.

  “Helen. Good to see you again.”

  The woman scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “You're the worst liar I know.”

  “Oh, come now, Helen, I invite you every year.” Lacey placed a hand on the small of Helen’s back and led the woman further inside. Lacey glared back at the man, intent on dealing with him once she had settled her nerves and diffused the situation. “So much has changed since you’ve last attended. Let me show you around.” She pointed to their left. “Full bar, not just wine and beer. Optional speed dating there in the corner. The owner just brought in a brand-new exhibit. And of course, a live band.”

  The woman grumbled. “Yeah, the band is a really nice touch—”

  “Lacey!”

  Oh God , she thought, but plastered on a smile instead of rolling her eyes. “Willard. You made it!”

  “Yeah.” He laughed, pushing up his glasses. “Just like every year.” There was a silence that Lacey should have been filling with polite small talk, but her thoughts had ventured somewhere else.

  “So, who’s your friend?” Willard wanted to know.

  Lacey’s strained smile somehow pulled up further. “Helen. She owns the store next door.”

  “Pleasure to meet you.” Willard reached out a hand and Helen took it with a shy smile down to her thick soled shoes. Lacey rolled her eyes. Didn’t the woman ever learn? Willard was, for all intents and purposes, the same type as the last guy who had left a bitter taste in Helen’s mouth. He wasn’t a crook, though. “Don’t think I’ve seen you here before. Hey Lacey, do you mind if I give her the grand tour?”

  Lacey looked over at a blushing Helen. “If it’s okay with you, Helen.”

  Helen nodded and let the man pull her away from Lacey. Helen looked over her shoulder as she left and said, “You’ll deal with that biker guy, right?”

  Lacey gave a sure nod, but her insides moved in a jittery, unsettled way just at the mention of the man. “Of course. If he’s not on the list, I’ll personally have him removed.” She didn’t get it, watching Helen and Willard walking away together, but she was grateful for the unexpected resolution. She thought she might have to settle up with the woman using free drinks at the bar. That was plan “B”. Lacey always had a plan “B”, “C” and of course a “D” in her back pocket, just in case.

  She took a deep breath before turning to scan the crowd for her troublesome guest. She was, of course, using the term “guest” loosely.

  It wasn't difficult to spot him with his height and that midnight hair. She swiped her sweating palms down the stiff fabric of her skirt and squared her shoulders.

  “Oh, Lacey, thank God I found you.” Daria grabbed Lacey’s arm and pulled her in the opposite direction of her target. “Security just showed up and are being briefed. We had to hold the walk-in line outside because we’re close to capacity.”

  “We’re at capacity?”

  The woman nodded. “Nothing to worry about. We’ve got it under control.”

  “How many people here signed up ahead?” Lacey wanted to know, trying to get her head focused on what was happening in that moment.

  The other woman seemed to be processing the answer. “Maybe half?”

  Lacey nodded. That was good. Word of mouth must have been the reason for the increase.

  “And we’ve got someone here from the newspaper that wants to take a photo of you and a couple guests for a special segment they’re doing. I hand picked the guests to get diversity like you wanted for all the other marketing materials.”

  Lacey looked at her assistant and nodded. “A picture of me?”

  Daria squinted her eyes at Lacey. “Yes. They’re right over here.”

  Moments later Lacey was back on the hunt. Daria was very competent which was setting Lacey’s mind at ease about the event itself. Her cantankerous visitor, if he should even be called that, was another story. She scanned the crowd in search of the man, her intentions no longer clear even to herself.

  The man caught Lacey's eyes and didn't look away.

  Like a moth to a flame, she made her way to him, holding on to his steady gaze. She would have, later on, convinced herself the pull she felt wasn’t attraction , because he was on the complete opposite side of any scale she would use to weigh out someone she’d want to be with.

  In the moment, however, she knew what it was, and as much as she fought it, she knew she couldn’t stop the blood from coursing through her veins, her breathing from deepening, the anticipation in her gut from stirring. The woman he was talking to looked over her shoulder, saw Lacey, raised a well-groomed eyebrow, and walked away.

  Lacey stood toe to toe with the man and crossed her arms, angling her face up to look him in the eyes. His gaze fell to her chest, and then his dark eyes met hers again, mischief swimming in them.

  “You don't look like the sort who would come to these types of things,” she stated.

  “Hmm. That so? Well, what sort do I look like then?” By the smirk plastered on his symmetrical face, she was certain he knew exactly the sort he looked like: trouble. The worst sort of trouble, because for reasons unknown to her, he was, unlike most, a real temptation.

  |4| A WOLF IN THE PASTURE |:|

  Someone cleared their throat behind him, breaking his glare-off with the angry woman in the pink flowing muumuu. He met big, disapproving, caramel-brown eyes set in a smooth honey-colored face. The woman was well-made, with a slim waist, generous hips and breasts hugged by a rather festive ensemble: a white bodysuit with a plaid skirt, obnoxious red, pink and white knee-high socks and fuchsia pumps. Her wavy light brown hair was pulled into a messy bun using red ribbons with pink hearts attached to them.

  Under the strange Valentine’s Day getup, Devlin was taken by the woman’s beauty. She stopped a few paces from them, glaring up at him, and he caught a whiff of her perfume. He swallowed the excess saliva that had started to form in his mouth. She was fucking sexy, and he’d have her.

  “Helen. Good to see you again,” she said, presenting a fake smile that probably looked genuine to the other woman.

  The chubby woman scoffed, crossing her arms over her ample chest. “You're the worst liar I know.”

  “Oh, come on, Helen, I invite you every year.” The pretty woman placed a hand on the small of Helen’s back and led the woman further inside. Before they could get too far, the pretty woman glared back at him with a promise that she wasn’t done with him yet. He was looking forward to whatever the woman had in store for him.

  “Hello, sir.” A round woman sitting behind a desk greeted him without much enthusiasm. “Are you on the list?”

  “Yes.”

  “Last name?”

  “Sinn.”

  She said more things that he wasn’t paying attention to. His eyes were on the pretty, overdressed woman who had to be in charge. “Who’s that?” he asked, cutting into the woman’s speech.

  She looked over her shoulder to where he was looking. “Oh, that’s Lacey, the hostess. She’s the ambitious type, throws one of these every year. Really starting to take off.” The woman babbled on while making him a name tag.

  “Thank you for coming, Mr. Sinn,” she said.

  He immediately tossed all the crap the woman handed him in the trash without looking at any of it. There’s no fucking way he was going to wear a name tag. He found a standing bistro table with a perfect view of the hostess. He watched her work her magic like some fucking ethereal fairy on the horribly dressed woman in the muumuu.

  She was fucking gorgeous, wasn’t she? She was smiling now, introducing the woman to some corny-looking guy in rimless glasses with dull brown hair and a slim build. No doubt a fucking paper-pushing weasel.

  Devlin grumbled, bringing his attention to the table, which was decorated with doilies and had paper and pencils scattered on it, probably for some kind of game or some shit.

  “Hi.”r />
  Devlin looked up to find two bright blue eyes gazing at him. He lifted his head to inspect the pretty brunette better. He hadn’t even been standing there for three minutes and there was already a moth ready to be scorched by the flame. “Hi,” he responded. Keep it fucking simple, right?

  “Macey.”

  “Devlin.”

  There was an awkward silence as she looked down at the table.

  “You come to these things often?” he asked.

  “Every year. This one’s my favorite. Lacey really does a good job…” She broke off when someone called her name. It was a pretty dark-skinned woman with red painted lips. “Oh shit. That’s my friend.” She grabbed a piece of paper off the table, dumping the heart-shaped confetti off of it before jotting her number down and sliding it toward him. “You should call me.”

  I just might . He thought, picking up the piece of paper. He raised an eyebrow, watching her hips sway as she walked away.

  A woman in a white dress caught his eye and sauntered over, mirroring his lean on the table next to him. “You stand out.”

  “You too.” Lie. He’d forget her face as soon as she turned to walk away, but those legs? Those had a chance of staying in his memory.

  He caught honey-brown eyes across the room glaring into him over the woman’s shoulder. His gut clenched at the sight of his quarry.

  Once he found her, he wasn’t going to risk losing her again. As the pretty hostess made her way over to him, the other woman slid away back into the growing crowd. He didn’t like crowds. What he did like, however, was walking toward him, allowing him to focus on her alone while the crowd disappeared.

  Lacey took an even stance in front of him and crossed her arms, angling her face up to look him in the eyes. His gaze fell to her chest, pushed up by her arms. Her round breasts pressed together, an offering up to him. He met her eyes again and the sequence of events leading to him between her legs, feeling her come underneath him, started to unfold in his mind’s eye. It seemed so real, he was convinced it was a vision of the future.

  “You don't look like the sort who would come to these things,” she stated.

  “Hmm. That so? Well, what sort do I look like then?” He smirked. He knew exactly what he looked like and that’s what he wanted everyone to know. There was no sense in acting like he was anything else. He’d save false pretenses for the sorry spineless dicks who needed it.

  “The sort that hangs out in a biker bar.” She pushed her nose in the air, an arrogant, haughty move that made his cock jump.

  He smiled, imagining all the things he wanted to do to her to wipe that smug look off her face. “Not too far off.”

  “What are you doing here, Mr…?” She looked over his person, probably for the damn name tag.

  “Sinn.”

  She raised an eyebrow and glared into him. “Cute. What's your real name?”

  “Does it matter?”

  She frowned and adjusted her weight in her stilettos. “Of course. All guests have to sign in.”

  “I did.” He said, watching her bristle with frustration. She was trying to read him probably to see if he was lying or telling the truth.

  “If that were true, you’d have received a name tag.”

  “I did.”

  The pretty woman frowned. “Why aren’t you wearing it?”

  The corner of his mouth lifted. “If you really want to know my name, I’ll tell you.”

  She squinted her eyes at him as if he were trying to pull something over on her, which he kind of was. He wanted to get a better whiff of her perfume. “I’m waiting.”

  “You’ll have to come closer, it’s loud in here.”

  She eyed him, but took a couple of small steps toward him.

  “Closer.” He teased her, enjoying her flustered uncertainty. She took another couple of small steps. He crooked his pointer finger and she leaned in toward him. Her breath caught in her throat when he slid his hand around her waist and pulled her flush to him by the small of her back. A sensual gasp fell from her lips and she shivered in his arms.

  The corner of his mouth raised at her reaction. He inhaled catching her intoxicating scent again. “My name is Devlin Sinn,” he whispered in her ear, trailing a finger down her spine.

  She shivered again. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. He had rendered her ass speechless.

  He laughed inside. She had no idea who she was fucking around with, but he had a feeling she was going to find out.

  His eyes fell to her open mouth, poised in a way he could imagine he’d see when he slid his hard cock inside her. He was throbbing in his black pants just at the thought. There was no doubt, no question, that he wanted this woman writhing under him while he showed her what a fucking Happy Valentine’s Day was all about. “I’m going to fuck you,” he whispered in her ear, having every intention of making that proclamation come to fruition.

  She pulled away, meeting his eyes, her eyebrows knit in what looked like confusion. He hadn’t stuttered. He had been very clear about what he said, but he was sure no man had ever spoken to her in such a way, because they were all cowards.

  A sting across his cheek made him smile with some sort of unspoken delight. She pulled from his hold and walked away, her back stiff, steps deliberate. She was pissed off and that made him want her even more. Because if he hadn’t affected her, she wouldn’t have given him a care in the world. The fact that he had incited any emotion, even if it was anger, told him she would be his before the night ended.

  |5| A SECOND OPINION |:|

  “Make sure you're rotating the trays. Don't leave the dairy out too long,” Lacey said, stopping a server with a tray of hors d'oeuvres.

  The young woman nodded and continued on her way. Lacey tried to stay focused on her hosting duties, but her hired event coordinator was actually doing her job. This left her searching for the devilish man.

  She hated the desire that wound its way through her body. When his words found understanding, she had slapped him across the face, turned and walked away. That’s what he deserved. That was the only attention he should get.

  She grumbled to herself. No, hitting him, no matter how much he might have deserved it, was wrong.

  She should have kicked his ass out the moment she saw him standing in the doorway arguing with Helen.

  She retied a ribbon on the back of a chair, fixed a server's bow tie, and rearranged doily coasters on six tables. Her mind was not on the tasks at hand, but her hands were busy. Yes, she needed to keep her hands busy.

  “Is there a Devlin Sinn on the list, Connie?” Lacey was at the front now.

  “Uh, just a minute.” The other woman finished a transaction with three handsome, well-dressed men before pulling up the guest list. “Oh, yep, right here.”

  Lacey grunted.

  “What? Is there something wrong?” Connie wanted to know, pushing her glasses up on her nose.

  “No, no. Everything is fine.”

  Just flipping fine .

  How dare he toss the rock in the pond. Coming right out and stating his intentions? It was insulting. Who did Devlin Sinn think he was? What were the odds of his name being the freaking king of everything bad and wicked and—

  She paused in mid-stride. Who the hell did he think she was? Some easy, slutty little skank?

  She finally found who she thought would be the perfect ally sitting at the bar, no doubt overspending at Lacey’s expense.

  “Rita, so glad I found you.”

  “Hey, boo! Everything looks amazing. The turnout is crazy.” The woman giggled.

  “Yeah, I know. Really crazy.” Lacey grabbed a few glasses off the counter, wiped the moisture they left behind with a few napkins, then walked behind the bar and tossed the trash.

  Rita’s concerned face met Lacey’s. “What is it?”

  She shook her head, debating what to tell her friend. She rinsed the glasses and loaded them in the dishwasher.

  “Spill, Diaz.”

  Lacey sighed,
finding her friend’s steady gaze. “This guy—”

  “Ooooh, which one?” Rita’s eyes lit up and she started turning in her bar stool.

  “Stop! Don’t look.” Panic settled in the back of Lacey’s throat.

  “Why not? I want to see!” Rita had nothing but mischief and intrigue in the depths of her dark eyes.

  Lacey glanced over her shoulder where she had last left Devlin, and there he was in all his tall, dark, tempting glory.

  Rita followed Lacey’s extended gaze. “Ooooh, yes, girl. Please tell me it’s that tall one with the dark hair.”

  “The one who all the women seem to be flocking to? Yep. That’d be him.” Lacey said through clenched teeth. She wiped the counter with the towel she’d just squeezed.

  Rita giggled then did a little dance in her chair. “Mhm, what about him? I’m listening.”

  Lacey leaned in and whispered through tight teeth. “He— he said that he was going to eff me! Like straight to my face! It’s one thing for a guy to think it, but to say it, point blank?”

  Rita frowned. “Eff you? Oh, you mean fuck you.” The other woman laughed when Lacey shushed her.

  Rita laughed even harder, making Lacey scramble to calm her down. The woman took a sip of her drink and her eyes rolled back in her head. “I should just marry this bartender. Every year he just steals my heart.”

  Lacey wasn’t sure why she thought her best friend would say something Lacey wanted to hear. Rita sipped her drink again.

  Lacey leaned toward her friend over the counter. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

  “Girl, did you see his back? I am on your side. It’s obvious to your bestie that you need to loosen up.” She rotated her slender shoulders. “Go ahead, girl. I give you permission to let him loosen you up.” Rita laughed at Lacey’s scrunched-up face. She froze when she locked eyes with the man. He smirked and pushed away from the table.

  She started losing all control of her insides when she saw that he was making his way toward her.

  “Lacey—” Rita broke off when she looked over her shoulder and saw the pending promise of doom or bliss, Lacey couldn’t tell which at the moment, approaching them.