can’t have you going in there looking like that.”
“What do you mean? How do I look?” She took
the wig, grimacing at the texture of the synthetic hair.
“You look like the woman we’re trying to
find. If she really does work there, everyone is going to think
you’re Ginger and our plan will backfire.”
His suggestion made total sense, yet she was
still riled. Everything was always about Ginger. It had always been
about Ginger, her entire life. Her twin had always overshadowed
her.
She loved her sister but constantly
competing with her since a young age had made her more than a
little bitter.
With a sigh, Janelle dug into her purse,
withdrawing a band to twist her hair into a ponytail. She tugged
the wig on, pulling down the visor so she could check herself in
the tiny lighted mirror.
The wig was terribly made and she had so
much hair, it was tough to get it all tucked beneath it. “This
sucks,” she couldn’t help but mutter as she shoved an errant strand
under the fake, straight black hair.
“Here.” Blunt warm fingers grazed her cheek
as he tucked another stray piece of hair beneath the wig. “That’s
better.”
She sucked in a breath at his touch, her
heart racing. Her gaze met his in the dim light. Her body was on
fire and he’d touched her cheek. The idea of those long fingers
searching her body made her want to burst into flames.
God, she was in over her head. And she
wasn’t doing anything to stop it. Just looking at the man made her
think of sweaty bodies tangled together. Not that she’d have sex
with this guy, a policeman. Would she?
You’d get hurt. You always do. Who needs
that?
Not her.
“Ready?”
His deep voice snapped her from her
thoughts. Janelle nodded and they exited the car, heading toward
the dark building that stood at the far end of the lot.
Another couple walked ahead of them, the man
clad entirely in leather and the woman in a frothy concoction of
white lace. Janelle couldn’t help but stare.
What kind of club was this anyway?
“Is this a private club?” she asked.
“No, but they don’t advertise. They don’t
bother with a sign either. They’re very discreet. From what I
understand, they get enough customers.”
“Does this place have a name?” She struggled
to keep up with his long strides, her feet hindered yet again
trying to dodge puddles in too-high heels. At least it stopped
raining.
“Temptations.”
He kept walking, didn’t bother waiting for
her, and she silently cursed him.
“Can’t you slow down?” She puffed out an
irritated breath.
“Sorry, guess I’m eager to get in
there.”
“Awfully eager to get to my sister, aren’t
you?”
“I really want the man she works for,” he
muttered.
“Why are you so intent on bringing down
Billy Diaz? What did he ever do to you?”
He glanced at her, his eyes flaring with
anger. “I can’t talk about it right now,” he said, his voice low.
“Let’s get inside before it starts raining again.”
Looping his arm through hers, Nate slowed
his pace as they walked up the steps that led to the double doors
of the building. Her entire body tensed at having him so close and
she released a slow breath, trying to calm her rapidly beating
heart.
She didn’t know how she was going to survive
the night being with him. His tangy, masculine scent lingered in
the air, on his skin, making her dizzy. His devastating good looks
were hard not to notice. He’d probably turn a nun’s head.
Right about now, she wished she was a nun,
locked in a convent far away from temptation. Sin. She had a
feeling indulging in sinful activities with Nate would feel oh, so
good.
A giant man held one of the double doors
open for them, his eyes shielded by dark sunglasses. “New
here?”
Nate nodded, his face a blank mask. “Trent
told me about this place.”
“Good deal.” The man smiled at Janelle,
revealing blinding white teeth. “Enjoy your evening.”
Sweet smelling smoke from an invisible fog
machine