I felt underdressed, and maybe a little trashy in my attempts at sexy but sophisticated. I looked down at my lace top, something I would never wear to any place my brothers or parents might see me, and wondered if it wasn’t a childish choice. Something someone pretending to be sophisticated would pick.

If it was frumpy but stylish, then I could pick it out. A suit that leaned a little to the too tight was about as risqué as I usually went. This outfit was my first attempt to fit into Roxie’s world, which was much different from my own. Even if her world was full of power, controlling that power, and money. Not so different from mine, but the power struggles flowed different ways.

“Right, girl,” Roxie said as she nudged me with her manicured fingers.

“What do you want to do for your birthday? Where do you want to go?”

I looked at her, my breath caught in my chest. I had a plan, a cunning one, if she’d play along with it. “I, uh, I want a favor from you. Please.”

“Alright?” she said, a darkened eyebrow arched at me questioningly.

“I want you to take me to that club. The gentlemen’s club. I want to see what it’s like in there. What the men are like, what happens with the women. I really, really want to find out for myself.”

Her ruby red lips twisted into an amused smirk, and her eyes looked at me with pride. “Oh, girl. You want the birthday of a lifetime, then?”

“I do. Badly. Please, will you take me?” I waited, my hands clenched together as she looked me over. She just had to say yes. It was my birthday, and she was the only one who remembered!

2

DYLAN

“Y ou’re a descendent of Jesse James, aren’t you?” a woman at the

end of the conference table asked.

My gaze flicked to the woman, and I noted round, out of date

glasses, fuzzy hair, and a little too much fluff around the hips. She had a twisted little mouth that looked cruel, and I wondered who she was and how she’d come to be here.

“I am, yes, in a way. I’m adopted, but the man who became my father is descended from his son, as a matter of fact.” It wasn’t a point of pride, just something I’d had to learn to deal with over the years. Every now and then someone would crop up to ask me if I had special knowledge about the gunslinging outlaw from long ago.

I was born in 1986, so how could I know anything about a man who died over 100 years before I was born? It was a familiar question, though, and one I’d grown bored with long ago.

“He was such a handsome man,” she crooned from the other end of the table,

and I tried not to roll my eyes. The man had been a murderer and a thief; his spawn had tried to live good lives, despite their ignoble birth, and to get on with life. We didn’t see him as a romantic hero, even if he had been handsome.

“I suppose if you consider murderous bank robbers handsome, well, I guess

he was,” I muttered and looked away. The woman I’d been waiting on, Liz Kearny, came in to the meeting room at last.

“Dylan James, as I live and breathe, how are you?” Her wide, red painted

smile greeted me and hid the lust in her eyes. At forty-two, Liz was still a fine specimen of a woman, but she was married. I wasn’t interested.

“I’m good, Liz, I’m good. I needed to speak to you about some property.” I

sat and indicated the seat across from me. I kept my voice low so the woman at the other end of the table wouldn’t hear us.

“I know, your PA told us all about it. Excuse me.” She paused, turned her head to the woman who had asked me about my ancestry, and called out to her,

“Imogen, what did you find out about that land for Mr. James?”

“The land has been bought out by the Thompson family. I’m afraid, we’re too late.” She didn’t even look down at the papers to verify what she’d said; she just knew her job and did it well.

“I thought that might happen. Liz, can’t you find me something to work with here? Some way of getting them off my back? Or lawn, so to speak?” I gave her my most charming smile and added a gentle tease to my voice.

Her eyes went soft, and her face relaxed as I allowed my head to lean a little closer to her. It was a stupid ploy, but when you want something as much as I wanted to expand my resorts, Sky B-n-B, out here to Myrtle Beach, well, you did what was necessary. I’d wasted a lot of time already because I’d had to deal with things at Pebbles, the resort chain my adopted father had left me in charge of when he retired.

“I’ll find you something. Something you can’t turn down.” Her voice was husky, and her eyes were like a laser focused on mine.

“I would appreciate that,” I murmured seductively and let my tongue flick out to wet my lips.

My family had started a chain of hotels when great-great-whatever grand-daddy Jesse, Jr, had fathered a daughter. She had turned a boarding house into a string of hotels out in Kansas, and the coming generations expanded it west. By the time I came along, the family had a hotel in almost every single state in the west. Now, I wanted to move the family east, and Myrtle Beach was a hidden jewel I wanted to wrap in a platinum setting. I hadn’t counted on the Thompson Hotel chain’s resistance.

“I guess that’s all we need to talk about for now. Thank you for the work

you’ve done so far, Liz. I’ll expect a call if you find something suitable.” I stood, buttoned the panels of my suit coat, and made to leave.

“Oh, now, as your real estate agent, Dylan, I can’t just let you leave empty-handed. I have a wonderful house going if you’re looking for a private home on the waterfront.” She started her spiel, and I shut her down.

“Not interested in that, just resort property. Take care now.” I inhaled deeply as I left the room of one of the top estate agencies in the area, and made my way to the parking garage. I needed to relax. I’d been dealing with this family for two long months now, and I had deserved a break.

I decided to take the night off and head out to the gentlemen's club I’d been introduced to upon my arrival. I’d met up with an old friend, Freddy Sinclair, and he’d shown me the best parts of this wonderful little beach town. He’d also shown me the spots the tourists would never find out about.

Like Elmo’s. The strip club/sex club I kept my nose out of kind of place. It was exclusive, kept quiet, and entry was by invite only, if you were a man or woman looking to partake in the custom Elmo’s had to offer.

I liked the finer things in life, and the girls at Elmo’s were of the highest caliber; I’d give them that. I hadn’t found exactly what I wanted there yet, but I knew patience would pay off. It always did.

I made it to the club and walked in the secluded entrance in the back. From the front, the place looked like an abandoned store with three levels. Red paint covered every square inch, and the place looked like a gaudy dump. It didn’t look much better in the back; all of the windows and every surface had been painted black. There was a shiny new gold knob on the door, however, and I put my hand on it but didn’t turn.

Beneath the round knob was a palm scanner. If it accepted your palm print,

the door would open on its own, as it did now. “Welcome, Mr. James.”

The door person was a rather breathy and busty brunette, but she was off-limits. “Thank you, Miss Maples. Lovely to see you again.”

“A pleasure as always. What will it be today?” The owner of the club didn’t often sit and guard the door, but sometimes she could be found here.

“I just need a quiet place to watch some beautiful ladies dance their hearts

out.” It wasn’t a past-time I’d take part in back home in Kansas, but here, I’d learned to live a little on the wilder side.

I could be me here, with all of my proclivities and vices.

“Enjoy the show; Roxie’s on in ten.” Miss Maples turned away even as she