LITMIR.BIZ

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mean, where’s the…”

      The sudden whirr of a blender at the minibar drowned out the rest. Jackson leaned forward, more than a little curious to know what the woman with the world’s most perfect lips had to say about her personal turn-ons. But by the time the blender switched off, the redhead spoke.

      “…then again, Aidan is pretty much a case study in originality.”

      The name caught his attention and made a few mental wheels turn. Jackson’s friend and former college roommate, federal agent Aidan Maddock had just got engaged to one of the new part owners of Club Paradise.

      Could it be the same woman?

      While he puzzled that out, the blonde yanked her friend by the arm. “Come on. You’ve got to come see my latest little pleasure palace. You’re going to love it.”

      Pleasure palace?

      Jackson could have used another drink—or two—as he contemplated what exactly these gorgeous females had in mind. Obviously women were discussing things a hell of a lot more interesting than the status of the NASDAQ and baseball box scores when they hit the bars.

      Determined to keep those lips in his sights, he followed the pair as they leaned close to one another, whispering and laughing as they edged through the crowd.

      Damn.

      Picking up speed, he tracked them out the back doors of the club leading to the exclusive resort connected to the Moulin Rouge Lounge and followed them past the semierotic paintings gracing the spacious corridors.

      Careful to stay well behind the women, Jackson watched the blonde flounce down the hallway, a definite swing to her hips.

      “It has tons of erotic potential,” the bedroom goddess confided to her friend as she straightened some kind of see-through red shawl flung around her shoulders. “Not that I’ll ever be able to make use of it, but I’m sure other people will benefit from my ingenuity.”

      “No whips and chains, I hope?” The tall redhead checked the oversize watch on her wrist while Jackson gulped.

      “Now Brianne, you know we only allow velvet shackles. But this is much more refined. Very hot, very red. The room practically oozes sex.”

      They rounded a corner and Jackson couldn’t possibly turn back. More than ever, he wanted to taste the lips of a woman who saw erotic potential and oozing sex in something so mundane as a room. How much pleasure might a woman like that find in a man?

      The prospect effectively drowned out ninety percent of the other concerns that had been dogging his heels for the last month. Tonight he would pursue what he wanted instead of what everyone else expected from him.

      While he wasn’t exactly Mr. Uptight, he’d never been a player, either. He’d always dated women from the right social circles with ambitions similar to his own. Ordinarily, he never played games.

      And he’d never sought a woman purely for the sake of sex.

      But the blonde had him curious. He just needed to find a way to meet her that was…what had she said she wanted?…original. And not too forward.

      Hell, his ambitious clan had raised him to be politically correct in every facet of his life, how hard could it be to come up with something that wasn’t too forward?

      Ducking behind a vending machine as the women turned down yet another hallway, Jackson peered out just enough to see his prey shove a tall housekeeping supply cart into the doorway of a guest room and then slip inside.

      Pretty damned convenient she’d left the door propped open.

      Growing more certain that he’d found the right woman, Jackson strategized the best approach.

      What would it hurt if—just this once—he applied all that smooth-talking charm that made the Taggarts famous for something besides courtroom closing arguments or speeches in the latest election race?

      If he had his way, he’d be sweet-talking the blonde into helping him forget the nonstop disaster his life had become. At least for the next few hours, but even better, the next few days. With any luck, he’d find the wild bedroom goddess of his dreams.

      He stepped lightly down the hallway toward the open guest-room door. Peering around the housekeeping cart piled high with guest towels, soaps and tissue boxes to get another glimpse of the unusual beauty, he discovered what she’d meant by a pleasure palace.

      Damned if she hadn’t walked into the silky red luxury of a modern-day bordello.

      SUMMER FARNSWORTH turned up the lights in the Bad Girl Bordello and looked around at her latest creation.

      “Oh my God, Summer, it’s amazing.” Club Paradise’s security expert Brianne Wolcott sank into the room, her feet drawn to the red quilted settee outlined in cherrywood. “A visual feast.”

      “It still gives me shivers to walk in here.” Preening openly, Summer soaked up her friend’s praise. As part owner and a self-described ambiance coordinator for the club, she took her job seriously. She’d worked as an activities director for the club during the previous ownership. The gig had been awarded to her by a snake-in-the-grass ex-boyfriend who’d absconded with all the resort’s profits.

      Club Paradise had done a booming business as a couples resort for years before the major shareholders had embezzled the company’s money. Since then, the women who’d been left behind by the crooks—an ex-wife, two ex-girlfriends and, in Brianne’s case, a step-daughter—had formed a new holding company. Admittedly cynical about love in the aftermath of the Rat Pack’s defection, the new owners had converted the former couples haven into a hedonistic playground for singles.

      Of course, Brianne wasn’t so cynical about love anymore. She and hottie Aidan Maddock had found happiness—and, it seemed, plenty of sexual contentment—over the last two months. Her friend’s fulfillment left Summer feeling all the more restless recently.

      “Just be careful,” Summer warned as Brianne ran her fingers over the fresh varnish. “The finish is still tacky in some places. The fumes aren’t quite as bad since the afternoon, but it helps to leave the door open anyway for some fresh air.”

      Glancing toward the propped door, Summer stared into the empty hallway behind her, unable to shake the feeling that someone had been there. Watching.

      Normally, she possessed a finely tuned sixth sense. She knew when her parents were in trouble with whatever cult of the month they happened to have joined. She could tell when she was being lied to. And she could usually feel eyes on her from fifty paces, but apparently that particular skill was on the fritz tonight.

      Although her skin prickled along the back of her neck and her heart skipped along at a nervous rate, no sexy stranger lurked in the doorway waiting to pounce.

      Too bad.

      Tearing her eyes from the hallway, she wondered if the last year’s worth of stifled sexual impulses could account for her hallucinating a stranger on her tail. Or maybe she could attribute the fanciful thoughts to being in the Bad Girl Bordello.

      “This room is definitely naughty.” Brianne’s voice called her back to the present. She trailed appreciative fingers over the lush shirred velvet lining two of the walls. “Total fantasy.”

      The deep burgundy color of the fabric was repeated in the bed and on an old-fashioned settee. Red satin trimmed with black lace skirted the bed and decorated pillows. Beaded antique lampshades rested over delicate brass light fixtures, while small crystal chandeliers twinkled in the soft light overhead.

      “Told you it was a pleasure palace.” Summer reached to tweak one of the dangling prisms in the chandelier near the entry.

      As in several other rooms throughout the hotel, the bordello featured erotic statues and framed lithographs of a couple in various positions described in the Kama Sutra. Even so, the room had taken on a mood and ambiance uniquely its own.

      “Yes, but will you christen

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