Brothel Night - ISBN #1-4199-0370-5
Take one decades-long neglected brothel.
Add one no-nonsense woman from the historical preservation society.
Stir in one determined developer who wants nothing to do with said woman.
Flip time on its head, and Sheri Brooks finds she has become a cheeky, saucy prostitute with attitude named Star. As for Gage DeStefano, when Star calls him Tex and offers to take him on a ride he’ll never forget, he doesn’t so much as think of resisting. Those pistols on his hips aren’t the only loaded gun he’s packing.
In a red velvet room designed for sex, two modern people embrace an era when men were men and women were…well, women were only too happy to oblige-for a fee. Seduced by the magic in the room, Star and Tex give each other a night neither one will ever forget.
But come morning, they find out if the magic of one fantasy night can survive the reality of a new day.
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Excerpt
Gage DeStefano stared, blinked, stared again. Damn it, he’d been up here several times while deciding whether to buy the historic restaurant. When he’d seen the abandoned second-floor rooms, his mind had churned with the pros and cons of turning them into offices.
That was before.
The lady facing him literally and completely took his breath away. At the same time, it took all he had not to gape and guffaw, not necessarily in that order. Hot damn! She wore the floor-length gown as if it had been molded onto her. Not particularly tall even in the ridiculous-looking heels, she nevertheless had a “don’t mess with me” air about her. Either that or her considerable mammary glands were responsible for the message.
This isn’t happening. She is not here.
Logic didn’t change anything. Logic fled in the face of the opulent furnishings in what had been a bare room just a few days ago, and logic couldn’t be reconciled with heady smells of perfume and sex, muted lighting provided by three candles, the come-hither glint in the lady’s eyes. The unexpected but familiar twitch to his cock.
Screw doing battle with some insufferable broad from the historic commission. Screw getting his plans approved by the small tourist town’s planning commission, paying for an architect, lining up subs. Screw everything except her.
The thought of thrashing about on the garish bed with this broad, figuratively and nearly literally knocked him back on his heels.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded. At least he’d intended it as a demand. Unfortunately, he sounded too much like an adolescent desperate to shed himself of his virginity.
Her full lips twitched. She planted her hands on her equally full hips, thrust her pelvis in his direction, and gave him a more than thorough going-over, all at once. “I’m waiting for you, big boy.”
Two of us can play this game. “Are you? And who do you think this big boy is?”
“Name doesn’t matter although maybe I’ll call you Tex.” She fixed her gaze on the gap between his legs. “Yep, big covers it, all right. You come to see me, did you, Tex? Months on the trail got you hungry for a piece off ass?”
Tex? Trail? “Depends. Maybe I’ll get a shot of rotgut whiskey first.”
“Afterward, if you’re so inclined. But I don’t want no booze blunting your edge, if you know what I mean.”
“You got yourself a point, ma’am.”
She laughed, the sound low and earthy and capable of carving heat through him. “I ain’t no ma’am, Tex. And I ain’t no sad soiled dove either. What I do, I do because I’m good at it. Because I love wrapping my legs around a real man.”
He might have been intending to reach for his cell phone, something to bring him back to the here and now. But when he wound up hooking his thumbs over the low-slung, broad leather belt clinging to his hips, the weight of it felt right. Tex had been on the trail so long he probably had dust in his ears and definitely a need for a hell of a lot more than a bath. Through some stroke of luck or insanity, the solution for that need was standing in front of him, advertising her wares.
“You look like a Sadie to me. Maybe Rose. Possibly Star. What is it?”
“Star works, Tex. You gonna get rid of the hardware? I’m not bonking no cowpoke who’s still carrying.”
Hardware? Because she’d indicated his sides, he ran his hands in that direction. Shit, he was wearing pistols! Who had he become, Jesse James?
He fingered the smooth handles without taking his eyes off the lady. “How much is this bonking going to cost me, Star?”
“For you, Tex, a reduced rate. Most of my customers look like buzzard bait. You’re going to be a pleasure, a real pleasure.”
I could say the same thing about you. More than a little glad to be rid of the weapons he had scant idea how to use, he unhooked the holster and draped everything over the bed poster closest to him. Although this was absolutely insane, he rather liked thinking of himself as a gunman, maybe the Lone Ranger minus Tonto. After all, he’d always fought convention, much to his straight-laced parents’ discomfort. Fortunately his outside-the-box thinking had resulted in him taking financial risks that so far had paid off, handsomely. According to his accountant, all his life lacked to be perfect was a wife and two point something children.
She licked her lips and stepped closer but left too much tantalizing distance between them. “You aren’t wanted by the law, are you?”