Page 4 of Sweet Deception

Resigned to my fate, I drop my hand and step away from the door when the sound of gravel crunching pulls my attention to my left.

A black SUV comes to a stop in front of the club next door—the club Ms. Wesley revealed as the meeting location for Sweet Connections clients. Not that it means this person is here for that, but the vehicle reeks of enough wealth that it's possible.

Instead of moving to cross the street, I continue to linger, hoping for a chance to see who emerges from the car. They don't make me wait long as the front passenger door opens and my eyes widen at the man who steps out.

He's enormous—well over six feet and muscular, if the bulging suit is any indication. With his cropped dark hair, trimmed beard and mirrored sunglasses, I peg him as security when he turns to open the back passenger door.

The driver draws my attention next. I would've considered him large if I hadn't just seen the first guy. However, instead of cropped hair, his is long enough to be tucked behind his ears. He's also wearing mirrored sunglasses and yet, it's easy to tell he's scanning his surroundings as he walks around the back of the car.

When he reaches our side, he slides his glasses to the top of his head right when he looks in my direction. We make brief eye contact before he turns to the person still in the back seat.

I can't help but admire the picture they make and I'm not the only one. Two women exit the shop on the other side of the club, and they don't hide their appreciative gaze as they walk past the men.

I smile in greeting as they pass me next, only to have the one closest to me wiggle her eyebrows and wink. I duck my head and stifle a giggle.

Who could blame her? Both men are gorgeous. If only I could be so lucky as to have one of them for mysugar daddy.

I puff out a breath at the wishful thinking. Even if whoever is in the back seat is a client, he hasn't stepped out of the car yet, and if I had to guess, he's an old, out of shape rich guy who's most likely married.

It takes a second before this new thought registers, but when it does, I go still. How have I not once considered the possibility of being contracted with a married man? Is that something they have to disclose? Surely, I can just deny the contract if he's married. The guilt would eat me alive if I'm the reason a man cheats on his wife.

Bothered by this new revelation, I turn my attention back to the road, desperately wanting to forget all about the man in the car. However, as I'm waiting for an opening to cross the street, the indistinct murmur of men talking reaches my ears. I'm too curious not to at least take a peek and the timing proves to be perfect since he finally emerges from the back seat.

At first, I only glimpse dark hair, but then he turns to face the two men next to him.

I was wrong.

Verywrong.

He's not old, nor out of shape. What little I see gives promise to a man as equally hot as the other two.

My attention is so completely focused on him, I don't even realize I'm leaning in his direction until he moves past his security and locks his gaze on mine.

Startled, I jerk back and gasp as my hand flies to my throat. Completely taken off guard by the impact he has on me.

If I thought the other two were gorgeous, this guy was off the charts.

The man is tall, but leaner than the others and has a more clean-cut appearance. He's outfitted in a dark blue suit, which makes him look every inch the businessman.

He has his dark, almost black hair neatly styled, except for one errant lock curling at his temple. But what captivates me the most are his eyes. It's not so much the color—a dark brown if I had to guess from this distance—but the intensity in them. The power emanating from the man's eyes is unlike anythingI've ever experienced. As silly as it may seem, it's like he's daring me to come to him while everything in me is warning me to stay away.

I'm frozen in place, though I know I should walk away. As if he can read my mind, he cocks his head and gives me a wicked smile. And holy moly, that's when I notice another feature.

Dimples.

The man has dimples.

It should have given him a boyish quality, but they appear more sinful than anything else.

He is pure sex, and he knows it.

The blaring of a horn behind me jolts me back to reality. In a panic, I turn to jog across the street, realizing too late that I didn't check both ways first. I'm lucky traffic has slowed.

I shake my head at myself. It's as if the man took away whatever common sense I have left.

When I reach my car, the hair at the back of my neck stands up, telling me his eyes are following my every move. In my desperation to escape, I quickly unlock my car and throw myself into the driver's seat. My hands are shaking, and it takes several attempts before I can insert the key into the ignition.

Boy, what I wouldn't give for a newer car with one of those start buttons instead.

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