Laila's Lies Read online

  Laila’s Lies

  Jennifer Kacey

  Members Only, Book Seven

  Laila Harris was a fake, a phony, a fraud.

  Being sent to dig up proof that The Library was actually a private BDSM club was her ticket to a promotion.

  Simple. Easy.

  But it wasn’t.

  Not when she would have to betray the three men who captured her heart from the very first heated stare. Not when she would have to turn her back on the women who saw who she’d kept hidden from everyone. A submissive.

  Choosing between her past and future will rock the foundation of everything she holds true. Until she understands the power she holds when she’s on her knees.

  A Romantica® ménage erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

  Laila’s Lies

  Jennifer Kacey

  Dedication

  To the person whom I share a tattoo with. You are the best and brightest I’ve ever had the privilege of working with. The world trembled the day we met.

  Acknowledgments

  To each of my friends who thought they couldn’t do it. You can.

  Chapter One

  Laila Harris sat on a stool at CJ’s Bar and Grill, nursing a beer. She tried not to feel self-conscious about being there alone—on her fifty-first birthday no less—but she failed miserably.

  Her discomfort had nothing to do with the ambiance, which was upbeat and made her want to get up and dance, and everything to do with the reason she sat there in the first place.

  She was waiting for someone. Several someones, actually.

  Past several tables, the door to her left opened and she held her breath, waiting to see who it was. A couple in their twenties walked in hand in hand and Laila deflated.

  “You must really have a hot date tonight.”

  Laila turned back and nearly gasped, trapping the sound in her throat at the last second.

  One of the bartenders, definitely not the one who had served her first longneck, stood behind the bar directly across from her. After throwing a towel over his shoulder, he planted his hands on the wood as he leaned in. His brown eyes sparkled as he looked at her with mischief and a fair amount of wickedness.

  “Umm…sorry, what did you say?” My brain blanked out because you spoke to me. And your voice? Now all of my moisture is rushing between my thighs in case it’s needed.

  She barely kept her eyes from rolling. It had been so long since she’d had sex that she wondered if she could still remember how.

  His lips pulled upward, curling as he gave her his full smile. “Hot date? You keep looking at the door like you’re ready to bolt. Just can’t figure out if it’s going to be toward someone who walks in or out the back.”

  To say he was good-looking would be like calling Niagara Falls “a bit of a water fountain”.

  The neon signs above the bar behind him glowed off his completely bald head. Her fingers twitched to run her hand over his scalp to see if it was as smooth as it looked.

  The black T-shirt he wore had the CJ’s logo over his left pec and stretched across a wide muscular chest. His biceps bulged slightly every time he gripped the bar.

  Thankfully the wood beneath his large hands cut off her southbound perusal because she didn’t think she could handle seeing any more of his—

  He cleared his throat and her gaze shot back up to his face, where his smile widened.

  Thankfully it was nighttime, so he couldn’t see exactly how badly she was embarrassed at being caught looking at his…assets.

  “Friends. Only,” she finally got out when she remembered that he’d asked her a question.

  Twice.

  Why she tacked on the last part she didn’t know, since she had no intention of getting attached to anyone in Arcadia, Kansas. She was there to do her job. Getting the information and footage she needed to get back to New York quickly was her only goal. Finally snagging the promotion she’d been passed up for once already couldn’t have been a better reward.

  She stared at the man across from her, having a hard time recalling the pep talk she’d just had with herself.

  “Good to know.” He eyed her gray and purple cashmere sweater. Her nipples beaded despite the fact that it was warm inside the bar with so many bodies.

  She had a tiny bit of cleavage showing and she wondered if her new push-up bra should have remained wrapped in tissue paper in the drawer at her hotel room.

  “Douglas,” he said by way of introduction. He held out a hand in her direction.

  She wondered if it would be warm against her palm.

  Earlier she had pulled her straight blonde hair into a ponytail before she’d left her room. Nervously, she grabbed the stalk the ponytail holder created and tugged it over one shoulder. It covered just enough of one boob that she didn’t feel quite so naked beneath her clothes.

  She slid her hand along his palm and sexual awareness bloomed beneath her skin. “Laila,” she managed to say and was proud it didn’t come out all breathy and nervous.

  He held on to her hand, rubbing the back of it with his rough thumb. A working man’s hands. What could be sexier than that?

  “Intriguing to meet you, Laila.”

  Intriguing?

  He finally relinquished their connection. She grabbed her beer and took a healthy swig to moisten her parched throat. “Likewise,” she squeaked out, shattering her illusion of cool, calm and totally not horny enough to jump over the bar and sit on his face.

  “So…friends, huh? Of the ‘with benefits’ variety?” He flashed another killer smile her way as he filled a drink for a customer a few seats down. He glanced up at her when she didn’t answer right away.

  Seriously, he probably thought she was either stupid or drunk. She’d never wanted to be intoxicated more in her life. At least then she’d have a halfway decent answer for acting so ridiculous.

  “No, just friends. Not of the horizontal variety.” She was clueless as to why she even answered his questions. It wasn’t any of his business.

  He rolled it around in his head for a second or two and then dropped his head back, barking out a laugh which was probably heard two blocks away. She couldn’t help but smile with him.

  “Can I get you another drink? That one’s looking a bit dry.” He gestured toward her bottle, which she had in a death grip.

  The smart thing to do would have been to slightly tip the bottle away from her but did her last two functioning brain cells get together to make that simple action happen?

  Hell no.

  She peered into the opening at the top as if she were a damn pirate and needed to look through her magnifying glass to traverse the seven seas.

  Life’s mysteries were not buried in the bottom of the bottle but apparently her ability to flirt—right along with her intelligence and pride—had found a new home. She drained the contents, handing over the empty glass.

  “A tiny bit of liquid courage never hurt anyone, right?” She wiped her mouth with one of the little square napkins her beer sat on earlier.

  He tossed the glass in the recycle bin underneath the counter and rolled his eyes. “I’m a bartender. I plead the fifth on that one.” His mischievous grin said it all. “You want the same or some other kind, perhaps? If you want a shot, I’m sure I’ve got something to mix up for you.”

  “A Shiner, I think. Darker the better.”

  He stared at her, cocking his head to the side. “Didn’t have you pegged for a Shiner girl. Definitely intriguing.” He grabbed a beer from one of the refrigerated cases and popped the top off.

  She reached for it but he pulled it out of her reach. “Nuhnuhnuh—not so fast.”

  Her eyebrows rose and then she thought maybe he wanted the money up front.

  Sure.

  W
hatever.

  She grabbed it out of her purse, scooting it across the bar along with a tip.

  She waited for him to hand over the bottle but instead he ordered, “Let’s see some ID.”

  “Huh? You’ve got to be joking. The other bartender didn’t ask to see it the first time.” She emphasized the word ask, hoping he’d get the hint that his tone bordered on rude.

  “Even more reason I need to see it now.”

  Did he not see the few strands of gray in her hair? Or the tiny wrinkles at the corners of her eyes? She drew her eyebrows into a V, knowing scowling for sure wasn’t going to help the wrinkles.

  What game was he playing? She knew exactly how old she looked in the mirror and it was a hell of a lot older than twenty-one.

  He held out his hand and waited. Humor lit his eyes but his face was a mask of dominant expectation.

  “Yeah, yeah, don’t get your panties in a twist.” She yanked open her wallet, extricated her license and handed it over with a slight huff.

  Douglas sat her untouched beer out of reach on the back counter and really focused on her little plastic card.

  He studied it for a second then looked back up at her in surprise. “Hey, it’s your birthday? Shit. You should have a cake and balloons and all that. How old are you?” He put his head back down to figure it out but she snatched it out of his hand before he could finish putting all the candles needed on her imaginary birthday cake. He grinned and finally handed her the beer.

  “Thirty-nine with twelve years of added experience, thank you very much.” She wasn’t exactly ashamed of her age. She tucked her ID back into her wallet.

  “Huh, then that makes you…” He counted on his fingers, then ran his palm over his bald head. He finally stopped, stared right at her and leaned close—sending shards of pleasure straight to her pussy. “Perfect.”

  Time stood still. She couldn’t glance away. Couldn’t make a glib comment and brush the tension away as if it were a crumb on a table.

  When he looked into her eyes she felt seen for the first time in a long time. Maybe the first time ever, which made her breath catch in her throat.

  A waitress slid a tray on the bar next to her, calling an order out to Douglas. “Boss, I need two Bud Lights, a glass of white zinfandel and a Screaming Orgasm.”

  Laila blinked, staring over at the waitress, who surveyed her tables on the other side of the dance floor. She was completely oblivious to the tension and Laila thanked her lucky stars. She took a drink of her beer, trying not to notice Douglas still hadn’t looked away from her.

  He finally went about filling the drink orders and she sucked in a lungful of air.

  Being beneath him—his gaze, she meant—his intense stare was enough to rattle anyone. She didn’t want to imagine being beneath him in any other way.

  A thought of being on her stomach, him buried inside her, pushing in deep with a hand on her throat and his growl in her ear.

  Damn.

  Her overactive imagination nearly had her sliding off her stool.

  She crossed her thighs a bit tighter beneath her skirt, which sent a shot of pure lust straight to her clit.

  He sat the beverages on the waitress’ tray. She lifted it high above her head, calling thanks over her shoulder.

  “Would you like a Screaming Orgasm?” he asked and laughed when her eyes got big. “It’s a shot made with vodka, Baileys and Kahlua. I’ve heard it’s good. You should give it a try.”

  “Don’t you know how it tastes?”

  On her last word he looked at her mouth and ran his tongue along his bottom lip. “I’m quite familiar with that particular flavor. The ingredients notwithstanding.”

  He snared her with his pretty brown eyes and she was positive they weren’t talking about the drink any longer.

  “So what brings you to our fine city of Arcadia? Work or pleasure?”

  “Work,” she answered automatically, though pleasure was coming in a close second.

  “What do you do?” he asked as he filled more drink orders.

  “I’m a columnist for a magazine.”

  “What do you write?”

  “Little of this, little of that.” She had no intention of telling him anything else about it, so she changed the subject. “Do you own this place or do you just moonlight as a bartender to harass the customers?”

  He laughed, not at all put off by her question. “I’m one of the owners. Me and a couple of friends bought it last year from some friends of mine. Twin brothers.”

  “The twin brothers are your friends you bought this place with or from?”

  He glanced up at her with what she thought was a gleam of admiration. “Chris and Jared are the twins we bought this place from. I’ve been friends with them for years.”

  Laila surveyed the very busy bar. To say it was hopping couldn’t have been more of an understatement. “I’d say you were smart for buying or they were stupid to sell. You’ve got a very nice place here.” And she’d visited quite a few in her several years at her current job. Gums definitely did some flapping once they’d been loosened up with a fair bit of liquor.

  When Douglas didn’t offer any more information she pried a bit further. “So why did they sell? Was this place bombing out before and you came in and saved it?”

  He shook his head. “No, it was doing great when they sold it. They have another business and a new woman they wanted to focus on. Can’t say that we blamed them, and it worked out perfect for us. The three of us retired early from the same financial analyst firm and wanted to go into something together.”

  Woman…

  Not women, but woman.

  She couldn’t get her head around the lack of a plural there, so she tried to focus on something less prone to make her hump her barstool. “And who do you own this place with? Silent partners?”

  “Nah, we’re all pretty hands-on.” He raised an eye brow at her and chuckled when her mouth popped open.

  She took another sip of her beer, trying to cool off.

  “Patrick and Hector won’t get in for a little while. If you’re still here, I’ll make sure they introduce themselves.”

  The door to the outside opened again and Laila looked over at it. It still wasn’t the women she was waiting on. “No need, I won’t be in town long enough to get to know them.”

  “One night’s all it takes sometimes.” He looked her up and down again. “And sometimes it’s not nearly enough.”

  The need to flee from his too-observant stare kept her rear rooted to her seat.

  “Hey, Douglas, can we get some drinks?” A few guys at the other end of the bar waved him over.

  “I’ll be back, birthday girl.”

  She couldn’t help but watch him walk away. He was damn easy on the eyes and taste buds and several other girly parts that clenched off and on to make sure she still knew they were there.

  She’d been married before. To one of those I-am-the-master-of-all kind of guys—AKA a dickhead. Thankfully, she had divorced him before they had children. She hadn’t judged the rest of the people with the XY chromosomes too harshly because he was an ass.

  After a decade of finally being rid of him and single, she knew how to hold her own against people of the opposite sex. At least, she thought so before sparring with Douglas.

  He was sexy and flirty but more than that, he was driven and successful.

  All qualities she wanted in a lover. Too bad she wasn’t going to be there long enough to even think about taking him up on his not-so-veiled offer of a good time.

  The reason she was even there, in town and in CJ’s that night, made her insides twist. Being an honest person to her core made lying, even by omission, hard for her to stomach.

  What she was looking into, researching…snooping around wasn’t illegal, per se. But it was scandalous and it was her job to ferret out whether it was pure rumor, partially real or a full-fledged scandal.

  The promotion she was up for would make it all worthwhile.
/>   At least that’s what she kept telling herself.

  A group of laughing women drew her attention off to the right. She looked over at them, making sure the group of four women she was supposed to meet hadn’t snuck in when she was drooling over the bartender.

  The table was surrounded by barely legal females, tittering away about whatever girls that young talked about. Thankfully that wasn’t who she was waiting for. She cringed at another high-pitched squeal barely below the threshold that only dogs could hear.

  The four women who had asked her to meet with them each owned a business directly across state lines in Missouri. Kinky businesses no less. The Nice and Knotty Boutique sold their own brand of naughty novelties, custom clothing, BDSM toys and much more.

  Kinky Pinky was their brand of clothing, produced by one of the owners, and Laila had befriended the entrepreneurial females who spearheaded the strip mall of adult fun. They also had a photography studio, Inktastic, and a tattoo shop, Inkfluence. Rumor had it an art gallery was going in as well.

  She must have spoken to the four of them more than a dozen times. She was there to dig up dirt on a rumored BDSM club called The Library. At first her research was all for her investigative reporting piece on sex clubs in America but after meeting them, it changed. Where her loyalties lay became a bit muddled in her head. She had even ordered a custom-made corset from Jenna and bought a few toys to experiment with from Cyn.

  She kept asking herself, “Why not?”

  It was the twenty-first century and if she wanted to buy a dildo, then she should be able to. Just because it came wrapped in a nondescript brown paper bag as if it were alcohol meant nothing.

  Certainly not.

  Heat filled her cheeks as Douglas walked back over to her side of the bar, as if he could tell what thoughts filled her head.

  “Care to share what has those cheeks rosy all of a sudden?” He smiled the same grin she was sure made many a pair of panties fall at his feet.

  “Do you guys have a library?” The question was out of her mouth before she thought better of it.