Adrianne Byrd - King's Promise

“I’ll just have a Singapore Sling.” Q looked over at Xavier. “If that’s all right with you.”

Cheryl hopped right to it, while Xavier and Q exchanged looks. No words were exchanged between the cousins, but their ESP battle went something like this….

Xavier: Cuz, back the hell off. She’s mine.

Quentin: I don’t see any rings on her fingers. She’s fair game.

Xavier: Family be damned, if you don’t pump the brakes I’ll take you out back and break your face.

Quentin: A’ight. A’ight. Stop the violence.

“Your drink,” Cheryl said, setting the third drink on the counter with a flourish and settling her hands on her hips.

Q picked up his glass, sipped, smacked his lips together while pretending to be in deep thought and then sipped again.

“Well?” Cheryl asked.

“Not bad. Not bad,” Q said. “But I’m concerned about your presentation.”

Xavier groaned and then propped an elbow on the bar so that he could massage the bridge of his nose.

“I’m sorry,” Cheryl said. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“Entertainment.” Q threw up his hands. “I know a little bit about being behind the bar and it’s been my experience that people really like it if a bartender…you know, entertains a bit.”

“Like hop on the bar and start dancing like Coyote Ugly.”

Quentin tapped his nose. “Do you dance?”

“Uh, no. I’m not interested in being a dancer. I just want to tend bar.”

“The job doesn’t entail dancing.” Xavier elbowed Q.

“What?” Q hissed. “Closed mouths don’t get fed.”

“Please ignore him,” Xavier said.

Cheryl held her smile. “Aw. He seems harmless.”

Quentin settled both his elbows on the bar and cradled his head in his hands. “I am completely harmless. Are you married?”

“Q,” Xavier warned.

“No. I’m not,” Cheryl answered.

“Boyfriend?” Quentin pressed.

“No boyfriend, unfortunately,” she said. Her gaze cut over to Xavier.

He felt another gut punch and wondered how much longer it would take before he suffered a knockout.

“But if you’re looking for more entertaining bartending…” She flipped the bottle of rum over her shoulder and then dipped her knees and caught the bottle with one hand behind her back. “I can do that, too.”

“You’re hired,” Quentin said, grinning.

“Q!” Xavier snapped. “What?”

Xavier jerked his head around toward his cousin, a look of annoyance plastered on his face. “You’re a silent partner. That means be quiet.”

“Touché.” Q shifted in his seat and straightened an invisible tie. “I’m sorry, Ms. Shepherd. Apparently, I don’t have the power to hire you. But I want you to know that I would hire you if I could.”

“Me, too,” Jeremy tossed in, draining his drink. “This is a really good Voodoo Sunrise.”

Now three sets of eyes turned toward Xavier.

“You said that you’re in school. How many hours are you looking for?”

“I’m looking for full-time work. Medical school isn’t cheap,” she joked.

“That’s a lot of work,” he noted.

“I can handle it,” she said, thrusting her chin up. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m a hard worker.”

Intelligence and determination glimmered in her maple-brown eyes as well as a hint of playful interest as she held Xavier’s bold gaze. “You say that you used to work at your uncle’s bar, but you know that working at a gentlemen’s club is a completely different animal. Patrons are going to hit on you—some are rude, some are obnoxious. Do you think you can handle that?”

Cheryl cocked her head. “I didn’t just get this body last night, Mr. King. Putting up with rude and obnoxious comments comes with the territory.”

Xavier laughed. “Good answer.”

Jeremy leaned over. “Now will you hire her?”

Xavier rolled his eyes. “Looks like if I don’t hire you, your new fan club might revolt.”

Cheryl flashed the two cousins an appreciative look. “A woman can never have too many fans. Thanks, guys.” She winked at them and they literally slid their elbows out in front of them like she’d just melted their hearts. “So does that mean I have the job?”

“It’s yours if you want it. Job starts Friday. Six o’clock sharp.”

“Great! I’ll be here!”

She finally tossed Xavier a wink and he nearly made a fool of himself, too, by gushing all over her. “Then we’ll see you Friday.”

Lord have mercy.

Cheryl had never seen three finer men in all her life. When she first walked in and they turned toward her, she honestly felt like she was the winner of some kind of man-fantasy lottery. But the one who was seriously buttering her toast was the one she could barely look at. And when she finally did toss him a wink, his smile turned predatory. How on earth was she going to manage working for this man without suffering through endless fantasies of ripping his clothes off and having her way with him?

Hell, even now she wasn’t sure that she was walking a straight line toward the front door. It had a lot to do with knowing that there were three pairs of eyes following the sway of her hips and the jiggle of her ass. Of course, when she turned around at the glass door to give them a final wave, they all played it off and exchanged innocent smiles with her.

“Thanks again.” She rushed out into the parking lot to her old blue Ford Taurus, pretending that her heart wasn’t racing a mile a minute. As she climbed behind the wheel, she saw the three of them walk out of the club, as well. They looked like GQ models, laughing and joking with one another.

Cheryl’s gaze zoomed in on the tallest of the group, Xavier King, as she felt the muscles in her stomach quiver. When was the last time something like that had happened to her—junior high? She fumbled with the keys, trying to insert them into the ignition, while she took in his close-cropped hair, handsome chiseled features, smooth, milk-chocolate skin and a muscled body that was just screaming her name.

Even though he wore a bright white dress shirt and a pair of black jeans, Cheryl had no trouble picturing him stripped down to his birthday suit. How could she not? Broad chest, trim waist and powerful thighs—this was a man who hadn’t let himself go since his days of earning money in the boxing ring. He was beyond fine, but the problem was that he knew it.

She had no problem imagining women tripping over their bottom lips trying to get his attention, and no doubt he had his pick. Shoot, under the right circumstances… “Shake it off, girl. Shake it off.” Cheryl finally slipped the key into the ignition and started the car.

The men glanced in her direction and she exchanged a polite wave as she pulled out of the parking lot and headed out onto the street. No sooner had she taken a left onto the main road did her cell phone ring. “Hello.”

“Well, how did it go?” Johnnie asked.

“I got the job,” Cheryl said, unable to stop herself from sounding cocky.

“It was the Got Milk T-shirt, wasn’t it?”

“Are you insinuating that my body got me a job at a strip club instead of my amazing bartending skills?”

Johnnie laughed. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Cheryl smiled. “Well…maybe it was more like a one-two punch.”

“Uh-huh. You keep telling yourself that. How far are you from the station?”

Cheryl glanced down at the clock on the console. “Be there in ten.” She disconnected the call. During the ten-minute drive, Cheryl had a hard time keeping her mind on the road and off Xavier King. How many hours did a man have to put in at the gym to get a body like that? Two hours a day—three?