More Than Fiends Read Online Free Page B

still see the smoke wafting out the window.
    Jasmine, a little winded but otherwise looking pretty self-satisfied, caught up with me. “There. You saw it for yourself.”
    I swiveled my head to glare at her. For the first time in my life, I was speechless. Probably safer that way. Shaking my head, I ran back up the driveway, ignored her wavering voice calling my name, slammed and locked the door, and tried to convince myself none of it had happened—the secret to my life: selective memory.
    I undressed as I ran and hit the bathroom already naked. In less than fifteen minutes, I was showered, shampooed and pawing through my closet for something not slutty.
    Finally settled on a sea green skirt with matching jacket and a white blouse. Simple. Plain. Boring. Laid out the outfit on the bed, dashed back to the bathroom and dried my short, dark blond hair—which needed highlights again—and slapped on some makeup. Then back to the bedroom, threw on the outfit and grimaced at my reflection. I have no problem with being a businesswoman. I just hate having to dress like one—but again, that pesky eating thing forces me to do a lot of things I’d rather pass on.
    I pulled one of my beloved purses down from the shelf—they were all in their protective cloth bags, naturally, but I, being a genius, had labeled them, so I knew exactly which one was which. This one was the green Fendi envelope bag. Perfect. Even took the sting out of wearing a skirt. Threw my keys and wallet and, what the hell, a lipstick inside, then headed downstairs in record time.
    Jasmine was nowhere to be seen. Had the boys in white coats already come by to scoop her up? God, I hoped so. So far, my birthday had really sucked. Having to deal with the crazy old woman who knew too much about me was just not something I was up for, you know? Anyway, I had bigger things to think about. Like impressing the hell out of Devlin Cole.
    By the time I made it downtown, it was five minutes to four. I hopped out of the car, smoothed my skirt and folded my fingers around the leather of my Fendi, just to ease my nerves.
    I stared up at Magic Nights, and it looked a lot different in daylight. White brick, so clean and brilliant it seemed to glow in the sun, the building took up nearly half the block. Windows glistened blankly, curtains closed tight across them. Neatly trimmed green hedges hugged the edges of the building, and a small, elegant brass plaque by the double front doors proclaimed in swirling script, Magic Nights
    If you didn’t know what it was, the building could pass for any upscale business place. I’d never been inside Magic Nights, but I had driven past it at night, all lit up by bright white lights and flashes of color. Music poured out the doors that were harder to get through than the gates at Buckingham Palace.
    I’d often wondered why Devlin Cole had chosen to bring his exclusive club to La Sombra. After all, he probably would have done even more business than he did, if the place were in Los Angeles or San Francisco. Maybe his clientele appreciated the smaller-town vibe.
    The place was supposed to be a private nightclub, catering to the rich and tacky. But it was pretty common knowledge that it was actually a sex club—where your every fantasy could come true—with the help of your American Express Platinum Card.
    And I was finally going to get a look at the inside. My hoo-hah tingled expectantly, but the reality was, the only fantasy of mine that would be satisfied would be snaring the cleaning contract.
    I knocked on the front door and waited, stroking my Fendi for luck. If I could get this contract and somehow keep Leo from suing me because of Wacko Granny, all might be almost okay with my little corner of the universe.
    When the door opened, I looked up, up, up into a pair of dark, nearly black eyes. The guy had to be six foot five, and next to my miserable five foot five, he looked like a giant. A really