Page 4 of Daddies' Little Troublemaker

With a concerned expression on his face, he says, “I just turned forty last week.”

“Happy belated.” I lift my soda and clink it against his glass.

He scowls. “That doesn’t scare you off?”

“That you’re forty? Nah. I’m here to make different choices than I’d normally make.” Shit, I shouldn’t have said that out loud.

“Look,” he says, his brown eyes twinkling as if he knows my secrets. “No pressure. Obviously. Maybe it’s too much. But if you’re interested, my friend is a member here. He has a room.”

“A room…?” I look around. Is this place some kind of secret hotel?

“Look upstairs.” He points upward.

Okay, the travel blog did not mention the second level. It’s cloaked in shadows, but there’s a fairly obvious staircase off to the side of the bar, past the entrance. I can see windows, but they’re tinted. The strobe lights from this floor barely touch them.

“I’m going to go up there,” he says. “I’ll relax. Watch the people dancing, have a drink in a quieter place. I’d love for you to join me, Trouble.”

He’s leaving it entirely up to me. I’ve gotten into San Esteban’s most exclusive club, danced my heart out, and met a handsome stranger. Do I want to push my luck further?

The Evelyn of a month ago never would have dared.

But I’m no longer the Evelyn of a month ago. I’m the Evelyn of tonight.

Slowly, I set down my drink. I lean forward, giving him a glimpse of my cleavage. Then I look deeply into his beautiful eyes. To his credit, his gaze only flicks briefly to my tits before returning to my face.

He leans forward, too. He’s so close, he could kiss me. But there’s no kiss. He says, “So, Trouble? What’s it going to be?”

“Yes,” I say.

The smile on his face is predatory, but it doesn’t scare me. Instead it sends the most delicious of thrills up my legs, where that thrill pulses insistently at my clit.

Standing up, he holds out his arm in an old-fashioned sort of way so I can link my arm with his. With a guy my age, this would feel pretentious or ironic. With this man? It feels right.

We walk partway up the stairs to where a woman wearing black slacks and a black collared shirt stands.

The guy with me—I still haven’t gotten his name—says to her, “We’re with Caleb.”

The bouncer nods like she’s been expecting him. “Can I see some ID?”

He takes his wallet from his pocket, flashes his card in front of the bouncer. She nods again and steps to the side. “Go on up. Room Two.”

Up we go. When we reach a door with a small Two emblazoned on the wall next to it, the guy holds up his hand to knock.

Just before his knuckles make contact, a second man opens the door.

Holy. Freaking. Heck.

He’s just as gorgeous as the man next to me, and looks to be close to him in years. Graying blond hair. Light eyes, probably blue, but maybe green. Faint wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth. A medium-stubble beard graces his face, giving him slightly longer whiskers than the guy at my side has.

A part of me wonders if Troy’s betrayal has put me off guys my age, because why else would I be so attracted to these men? They’re in their early forties—a decade and a half older than me.

“Hey there,” the new man says to me. Caleb, I’m assuming. Then to the guy next to me, he says, “I’m heading down to get some champagne. Be back soon. Don’t start without me.”

Start without him? Start what? I open my mouth to ask, but he’s walking past us and the first guy is leading me into a richly decorated room. It’s done mostly in black, with ivory accents. At the rear of the room is another door with an all-gender restroom sign. In the middle, there are three black leather love seats situated around a square coffee table. Beyond that, large windows open to a balcony overlooking the dance floor.

“This is…fancy,” I say.

He’s still holding my hand. Giving me a little tug, he brings me closer to him. “Yeah. Can I kiss you?”

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