was stroking a finger over Julian’s fleshy lips and the hotelier was nibbling lasciviously at the pad of her thumb. Even as they watched, Sir Julian took it into his mouth and sucked it suggestively.
Rafiq compressed his lips into a tight line. Only yesterday he’d been invited to Sir Julian’s home for dinner. The hotel magnate had proudly introduced his wife of almost three decades as the love of his life … and produced a daughter with whom he’d tried to match Rafiq.
“Nor do I devour thumbs,” he murmured to Tiffany. To his surprise, relief lightened her eyes. Surely a sucked thumb was tame for a place like Le Club?
For the first time he saw that her eyes were brown with gold streaks. Until now it had been her hair and peachy skin that had snagged his attention. Not that he’d been looking—he wasn’t interested in a woman who earned her living the way Tiffany did.
Abruptly, he asked, “Why do you choose to work here?”
“Tonight is my first time. Renate brought me—she said it was a good place to make cash.”
He withdrew imperceptibly at her confession. She’d come prepared to barter her body for cash? “You want money so desperately?” When she failed to respond, disappointment filtered through him like hot desert sand winnowing through his fingers, until nothing remained save emptiness. “You should leave,” he said.
A flush crept along her cheekbones. She looked down at the table and started to draw patterns on the white linen tablecloth with her index finger.
Rafiq looked away.
Across from them Julian’s hand had weaseled its way under the neckline of Renate’s dress, and Rafiq could see the ridges under the stretchy electric blue fabric where the other man’s fingers groped at her rounded breasts. Renate giggled.
This was what Tiffany was contemplating?
“Will it be worth it?” he asked her.
She didn’t answer.
He glanced down at her. Her attention was riveted on the couple on the other side of the table. She looked distinctly queasy.
“You’d let a man paw you for money?” He sounded harsher than he’d intended. “In front of a roomful of strangers?”
“I think I need the bathroom again.”
She looked as if she were about to throw up as she bolted from the booth. Good. His deliberate crudity had shaken her. She’d said tonight was her first night. Maybe he could still talk sense into her. Perhaps there was still a chance to lure her away from such a recklessly destructive course of action.
His mouth tight with distaste, Rafiq threw a hundreddollar note down on the table and rose to his feet to follow her.
Two
Rafiq was leaning against the wall when Tiffany emerged from the bathroom, his body lean and supple in the dark, well-fitting suit. He straightened and came toward her like a panther, sleek and sinuous.
Tiffany fervently hoped she wasn’t the prey he intended hunting. There were dark qualities to this man that she had no wish to explore further.
“I’m going to call you a cab.”
“Now?” Panic jostled her. “I can’t leave. My shift isn’t over yet.”
“I’ll tell whoever is in charge around here that you’re leaving with me. No one will argue.”
She assessed him. The hard eyes, the hawk-like features, the lean, whipcord strength. The way he had of appearing to own all the space around him. Yes, he was right. No one would argue with him.
Except her. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Something flared in those unfathomable eyes. “I wasn’t intending to take you anywhere … only to call for a cab.”
“I can’t afford one,” she said bluntly.
“I’ll pay for your damned cab.”
Tiffany started to protest, and then hesitated. Why shouldn’t he pay for her fare? He’d never coughed up the service tip she needed. Though the disquieting discussion with Renate had made it clear that tips in this place required more service than just a little company over drinks. Renate was clearly going to end up in Sir Julian’s bed tonight. For what? A visit to the races tomorrow … and a wad of cash?
Tiffany had no intention of following suit. She’d rather have her self-respect.
Yet she couldn’t afford to be too proud. She needed every cent she could lay her hands on. For food and accommodation until Monday. If Rafiq gave her the fare for a cab, she could sneak out the back while he was organizing it and hurry to her lodgings on foot. It wouldn’t be dishonest, she assured herself. She’d earned the tip he’d never paid.
“Thanks.” The word almost choked her.
He was suddenly—unexpectedly—close. Too close. Tiffany edged away and suppressed the impulse to tell him to stick his money. Reality set in. The cab fare, together with the miserly rate for tonight’s work, which she’d be able to collect in less than ten minutes, meant she’d be able to pay for her accommodation and buy food for the weekend.
Relief swept through her.
All her problems would be solved.
Until Monday …
Over the weekend, she’d keep trying her father. Surely he’d check his e-mail, his phone messages, sooner or later? Of course, it would mean listening to him tell her he’d been right from the outset, that she wasn’t taking care of herself in the big, bad world. But at least he’d advance her the money to rebook her flights and she’d be able to get back to help her mom.
“I’d appreciate it,” she said, suddenly subdued. Tiffany halted, waiting for him produce his wallet.
“Let’s go.”
His hand came down on the small of her back and the contact electrified her. It was the humidity in the club, not his touch that had caused the flash of heat, she told herself as she tried to marshal her suddenly chaotic thoughts.
Her money.
“Wait—”
Before she could finish objecting he’d propelled her past the bar, through the spectacular mirrored lobby and out into the oppressive heat of the night. Of course there was a cab waiting. For a men like Rafiq there always were.
“Hang on—”
Ignoring her, Rafiq opened the door and ushered her in and all of the sudden he was overwhelming in the confined space.
“Where to?” he asked.
He’d never intended to hand her cash. And she hadn’t had the opportunity to collect her earnings, either.
“I didn’t get my money,” she wailed. Then it struck her that he
