One Night of Trouble Page 5

  “Ah. I see. What about your other brother?”

  “Jordan?” She couldn’t help but laugh. “Poor guy can’t even draw a straight line—seriously, he has no artistic talent whatsoever. He’s a mechanic.” She squared her shoulders. “And even if Jordan was in the business, I’d be a way better manager than him. Except…well, my track record isn’t really helping my cause.” Her posture drooped. “My dad thinks I can’t handle the responsibility.”

  “What happens if you don’t manage the shop? Will your father do it?”

  “No, he’s really keen on retiring. He’d have to hire an outsider.” Frustration jammed in her throat. “But I know he’d rather keep the business in the family, and I know I can manage that shop. I’d be really good at it.”

  “Of course you would.”

  The conviction in his tone startled her. AJ barely knew her, yet he sounded more confident of her abilities than all her brothers combined.

  “Dad gave me six months to prove I’m mature enough to run the business, and my time is almost up. He’s supposed to give me an answer at the end of the month.” A stab of misery twisted her stomach. “I was finally starting to convince them I’m not the party girl I used to be. That’s why I told Rob we’re dating. If he knew I brought a stranger home for the night, he’d totally tell my dad.”

  “Seriously? He’d do that?”

  “Oh yeah,” she said grimly. “There are no secrets in my family. And they all hated the last guy I was seeing. Troy was the least reliable person on the planet, and the two of us brought out the worst in each other. My family already thinks I have terrible taste in men—the last thing I need is them finding out that I had a one-night stand.”

  “I get it.” AJ’s tone grew oddly strained. “I know all about family expectations.”

  “You do?”

  He nodded, but rather than offer any details, he suddenly flashed that boyish smile she was growing accustomed to. “All right. Ask me.”

  She knit her brows. “Ask you what?”

  “To be your pretend boyfriend. Isn’t that what this heart-to-heart has been leading to?”

  Brett faltered. “Actually, I was only going to invite you to the barbecue. I figured a few days after that, I can just tell them I dumped you.”

  Those green eyes sparkled. “Bullshit. They’d never believe it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m fucking awesome, Brett. You’d never dump me.”

  “Gee, it’s good to know you don’t suffer from any confidence deficiencies.”

  “Seriously, it would look too suspicious if you announce out of the blue that we broke up. Besides…” The twinkle in his eye turned to smoky promise. “We have the perfect opportunity here, and I’m not about to pass it up.”

  “What opportunity?” she said slowly.

  “To turn this one-night stand into a several-nights stand.” AJ smiled again, and a dimple she hadn’t noticed before appeared in his chin. Sweet Lord, the guy was unbelievably cute.

  No, he wasn’t cute. He was sexy. And she’d be lying through her teeth if she said the idea of sleeping with him again wasn’t incredibly appealing.

  As if he’d read her mind, his voice grew low and husky. “You still want me as much as I want you.”

  “Oh, do I?” she mocked.

  “Don’t play games, angel. We both know it’s true.” He paused. “Your dad is giving you an answer at the end of the month, right?”

  She nodded warily.

  “That gives us three and a half weeks to keep doing what we’re doing.” There was no mistaking the reckless glint in his eyes.

  “And what exactly are we doing?”

  “Having fun. Making each other come.”

  She ignored the hot shiver that traveled up her spine. “And then what?”

  “Then your dad gives you the manager job, you tell your family we broke up, and we go our separate ways.”

  Biting her lip, Brett mulled over what was beginning to sound like a solid plan—especially the sex part. Three more weeks of super-sexy naked time with this man? Sign her up.

  But the idea held more than just sexual merit. If she said yes, then she’d be “dating” a guy that screamed wholesome and responsible, which was a surefire way to show her family she’d changed.

  “It’s not a bad idea,” she admitted.

  AJ looked smug. “Told ya.”

  “As long as we’re both clear that this won’t be a real relationship,” she said quickly. “I’m not looking to get seriously involved with anyone right now, and once I have my own tattoo parlor to run, I won’t have time for a relationship at all.” She chewed on her lip, still deep in thought. “But I probably don’t have to worry about this being anything more than a fling, right? I mean, I know where I stand, and you…well, I’m pretty sure I’m not your type, anyway…so…”

  “Trust me, I don’t have time for a relationship, either.” His face took on a shuttered expression. “It’ll be a pretend relationship.”

  That he didn’t correct her assumption about not being his type kind of stung. It shouldn’t, though. Of course he wouldn’t view her as girlfriend material. She was scrawny and covered in tattoos and the furthest thing from meek. A man like AJ belonged with some sweet, docile thing who’d bake him cookies and rub his feet, not an ex-bad-girl tattoo artist with a chip on her shoulder.

  “The sex, though…that won’t be pretend at all.” AJ’s voice became downright sensual. “Because there’s no way I can spend three weeks with you and not put my hands all over that sexy-ass body.”

  The saliva in her mouth turned to sawdust. “I’d kill you if you didn’t put your hands on me.”

  “Threatening me with murder, huh? And last night you threatened to lock me in your closet.” He arched a brow. “For such a teeny little thing, you’ve got some pretty violent tendencies.”

  “Like I said, I’m tougher than I look.” She pursed her lips. “So it’s official then? You’ll be my pretend boyfriend?”

  “Yup.” He grinned. “Provided I’m well compensated.”

  “I already said I’d sleep with you again,” she grumbled. “And you didn’t even have to twist my arm.”

  “That’s not all I want.”

  Brett’s guard shot up, especially when she saw the intensity hardening his chiseled features. “What else, then?”

  “I want you to show me a wild time.”

  The demand triggered a jolt of uneasiness. “I told you, I don’t party anymore,” she said firmly.

  “I don’t want to party. I just want to have some fun.” Something she couldn’t decipher flickered through his expression. “All I ever do is follow the rules.” He shrugged. “I’m in the mood to break some.”

  Hunger, she realized. It was hunger flashing in his eyes. And seeing it only heightened her reluctance. “I’m not sure I can help you with that.”

  His hand was on her cheek again, but not gentle this time. Rough fingertips did a seductive sweep over her skin, grazing her bottom lip. “I’m not asking you to snort coke or streak through Boston Common with me. I just want… Hell, I just want to be the man I was last night. The man I was with you.”

  Some of her caginess dissipated. “You mean, the man who bossed me around and gave me the best orgasms of my life?” A tiny smile broke free. “If that’s all you want, then I think I can get on board with that.”

  With a pleased nod, he grasped her chin and brought her mouth to his.

  The kiss was deep and forceful. Dominating. And just like last night, she was instantly sucked into his seductive spell, losing herself in the firmness of his lips and the greedy strokes of his tongue. Everything about this man drove her wild, from his heady masculine scent, to the scrape of his stubble on her cheek. She was addicted. Goddamn addicted.

  Somehow, she managed to wrench her lips away, breathing hard as she recovered from that toe-curling kiss. “I have to get to work,” she told him. “I can’t be late.”

  AJ swi
ftly rose to his feet, pulling her up with him. “What time are you done?”

  As he spoke, he lightly caressed her cheek again, as if he couldn’t go a single second without touching her. Brett had zero complaints about that. Every time those big, warm hands connected with her skin, it felt like her entire body was engulfed by flames.

  “We close at nine. But if it’s dead, I’m usually out of there by eight.”

  “Come to the club when you’re finished.”

  It wasn’t a question. It was a command. But she wasn’t complaining about that, either. She was discovering that his dominance was as addictive as his touch.

  “Use the staff door in the back of the building,” he added. “Hit the intercom and tell the security guy you’re there for me. I’ll make sure he knows I’m expecting you.”

  His smoldering look told her precisely what he planned on doing to her when she got there.

  She gulped. “Okay. I’ll be there.”

  “Good.” AJ dropped a quick kiss on her lips before heading for the door, but when he reached the threshold, he stopped and glanced over his shoulder. “And Brett?”

  “Yeah?”

  A darkly wicked note entered his voice. “Don’t wear any panties.”

  Chapter Six

  Thanks to AJ’s parting words, Brett had a bitch of a time concentrating at work. Which probably wasn’t something her clients would be thrilled to know, seeing as tattooing required patience and infinite concentration. One blunder could affect a person’s entire life, whether it was a slip of the hand or one misspelled word. And sure, laser tattoo removal was commonplace nowadays, but Brett refused to put any of her clients through the process because of a careless mistake on her part.

  So although her brain was in full-blown AJ mode, she’d forced herself to focus on making art and not think about how badly she wanted to have sex with him again.

  By the time eight o’clock rolled around, the shop had emptied out, much to her delight. Once she’d finished touching up a back piece for her last client, she left her station and settled behind the front counter in the main room, doodling on a sketch pad as she waited for walk-ins. The monotonous buzzing behind the curtain of Rob’s workspace served as a soundtrack for her sketching. She loved everything about working at the studio. The people, the smell of ink, the soothing sound of the tattoo gun.

  But she’d love it even more if she were the one in charge, and not just another employee for her big brother to order around.

  She lifted her head and glanced at the computer screensaver, which displayed a bright blue bubble flashing the current time. Eight ten. Argh. She couldn’t take off until Rob gave her the okay, but she was dying to leap out of her chair and drive straight to Sin. She squirmed in her chair as she watched the minutes tick by, all the while keeping a constant vigil on the door and praying that nobody walked in demanding a last-minute consultation. The rule of thumb at Conlon Ink was to never turn a client away. Even if someone showed up five minutes to closing, Brett was expected to stay as late as necessary in order to tend to the customer.

  Eight twelve. God, why was time dragging on so slowly? She was tempted to manually change the computer settings to nine o’clock and tell Rob her shift was over, but the new and improved Brett didn’t pull stunts like that. Besides, Rob was too smart to buy such a dumb ploy.

  Ding.

  Brett smothered a groan when the bell over the door chimed loudly. She pasted on a smile, ready to greet the unwanted customer. When the door swung open, her unhappiness dissolved into relief.

  “Hey, princess,” her father said cheerfully. His heavy black boots thudded on the tiled floor as he strode to the counter. “C’mere and give your old man a hug.”

  Brett leaped out of the chair and walked into her dad’s outstretched arms, returning the big hug he gave her. “Hey! What are you doing here?”

  “Just came by to see my favorite daughter.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m your only daughter.”

  “Says who?” Jimmy Conlon flashed a sly smile. “Maybe I have a secret attic family I never told you about.”

  “Ha. Mom would’ve ripped your throat out with her bare hands if you pulled that crap on her.”

  “Never,” he declared. “Your mother was a pacifist.”

  Hardly. Brett didn’t have as many memories of her mom as she liked, but from what she did remember, Norah Conlon had been a total spitfire. Headstrong and outspoken, Brett’s mom hadn’t taken crap from anyone, and Brett knew she’d inherited her temper from her spirited mother.

  As for her father, she might not have inherited his huge frame or tangle of red hair, but she’d definitely gotten her wild streak from him. She’d heard countless stories over the years about all the trouble he’d caused in the neighborhood growing up, thanks to his act-first-and-think-later nature. Once he’d married and had kids, he’d stopped solving problems with his fists, but he could still drink any of his sons under the table, and his boisterous personality charmed every person who sat in his tattoo chair.

  Brett adored her father, but he could be so damn obstinate sometimes. It was probably due to his Irish blood, but man, his stubbornness was infuriating. He still viewed her as his little “princess,” acted like she couldn’t even brush her own teeth without his help. Granted, her past behavior had contributed to his inability to see her as a grown-up, but she wished he could at least acknowledge she was trying to change.

  “Anyway, Rob told me you have a new boyfriend.”

  Brett’s head swiveled in the direction of Rob’s curtained-off station. Seriously? Already? She’d been working with her brother all day, and she certainly hadn’t seen or heard him talking to their dad. Clearly he’d found a way to sneak in a phone call without her knowledge.

  And people accused women of being gossips.

  “Yeah, kind of,” Brett answered, keeping her tone vague. “It’s still very new.”

  “Well, I don’t need to meet the guy to know I approve.” Her father looked beyond thrilled. “The Ten Grand Touchdown! Fuckin’-A! I can’t believe he’s coming to the house tomorrow. I’m making steak and garlic shrimp in his honor.”

  His enthusiasm would have made her laugh if she didn’t feel so damn guilty. She hated deceiving her father, even more than she hated disappointing him.

  She’d always been nothing but honest with her family, though her open-book mentality was probably one of the reasons she was forever on their shit lists. If she’d been a better—or more willing—liar, she wouldn’t be in the boat she was currently in. Her family would be blissfully ignorant to all the immature things she’d done in the past. Her brothers wouldn’t be on her case all the time.

  Her father wouldn’t have had to bail her out of jail last year…

  The incident brought a clench of shame, along with a rush of anger, because she truly hadn’t done anything wrong that night. Troy was the one who’d gotten plastered and picked a fight at the bar. Brett hadn’t consumed a drop of alcohol, but when the brawl had escalated, the cops had carted her off with Troy and tossed her in the drunk tank right along with him.

  God, the disapproving stare she’d received from her dad when he’d picked her up that night was still burned in her brain like a cattle brand. And she still remembered the sting of tears when he’d proceeded to blame himself for not “raising her right.”

  But he was so fucking wrong. After Brett’s mother had died of cancer when Brett was seven, Jimmy Conlon had stepped up to the plate to raise their children. Dealing with the boys had been easy, but Brett knew he’d had a tough time relating to his only daughter. Her father was a man’s man to the core, yet he’d done everything in his power to shower Brett with the love and attention she’d craved. And all those girlie-girl activities she’d demanded they do together? God. He’d indulged her every whim, just so she wouldn’t miss out on what the other girls her age were doing.

  “Aw, what’s this about?”

  She jerked when she felt her dad’s
finger on her face. He gently brushed away the sheen of tears she hadn’t even realized were there.

  “Why are you crying, princess?” His brown eyes narrowed. “Did your new man do something to hurt you? Because if he did, I will break every bone in his body and—”

  “No, of course not,” she assured him, swallowing the lump of emotion obstructing her windpipe. “I was just thinking about all that girly stuff you used to do with me when I was a kid. You know, the tea parties, and playing dress up, and…” Her throat closed up again.

  “Don’t forget the Barbies,” he said gruffly. “I sure haven’t.”

  “You were such a good dad.” She blinked away her tears. “You still are, you know.”

  Embarrassment colored his cheeks. “Where’s this coming from, princess?”

  “I don’t know. The memories just popped into my head.” She wiped her cheeks with the sleeve of her shirt, then shot a discreet look at the computer screen. Eight twenty-five. Damn.

  “Got somewhere else to be?” her dad teased.

  She was the one blushing now. “Kinda. I’m meeting AJ soon. He owns a nightclub downtown and I promised I’d stop by to visit him.”

  “Wide receiver and business owner? Shi-it. I like him even more now.”

  “Just a business owner. His football days are behind him,” she said, then peeked at the clock again.

  Her father chuckled. “Oh, get out of here already. You’ve got one foot out the door as it is.”

  Brett answered in her most professional voice. “We don’t close until nine, Dad. The job is my first priority.”

  “We won’t go bankrupt if you cut out twenty minutes early. Besides, you’ve already been here ten hours.” He ruffled her hair. “Go. I’ll close up with your brother.”

  “Are you sure?” She didn’t want to give him another reason to find fault in her, but he didn’t seem bothered in the slightest.

  “I’m sure. Go have fun.”

  With a burst of excitement, Brett grabbed her purse from the counter and made a dash to the door. “Thanks, Dad. I’ll see you tomorrow.”