Brooke

As I pull into Midnight Frenzy’s parking lot on Wednesday night, I feel as though butterflies are swarming in my stomach. Jemma doesn’t have to be here for another two hours, so I told her not to drive in with me tonight. I know she wanted to catch some extra shuteye before her shift starts. She and the rest of Tease have been crazy busy rehearsing a new routine. Apparently, it’s the most daring and outrageous number they’ve done since the club opened. She’s excited to perform it, and I’m excited to see it.

I’m also excited to see Linc again. Far too excited considering he’s now my boss and I need this job. I can’t afford to fixate on how good looking Linc is, or how intriguing I find him.

Here’s hoping that once I start working for Linc officially, I’ll only think of him as the man who pays my wages.

After climbing out of my car, I lock it and walk towards the club. Mick, one of the bouncers I met the last time I was here, is waiting at the door.

“Nice to see you again, Brooke. It’s your first night tonight, right?”

He remembers my name, which is kind of cool of him. I realise he’s probably expecting me and that Linc must give him a list of all the staff coming and going, but it’s still nice. Mick is talkative and friendly, putting me at ease before I enter the club to search out the bar manager, Kane.

All of the lights are on, including the normal halogen downlights. I’m relieved to see that everything looks extremely clean under the harsh lighting. I’ve worked in a couple of places that could use a visit from the health inspector.

There aren’t too many people around, but those who are here look busy. I head straight for the bar, looking for the dirty blond with an eyebrow piercing and giant arm tat Jemma described to me when I asked her about Kane. Jemma also called him a manwhore, but it was said with so much affection that it made me wonder what kind of relationship Jemma has with him.

There’s only one person behind the bar, and he fits Jemma’s description perfectly. Well, I can’t make an assessment about the manwhore part just yet, but the tat and eyebrow piercing fit the bill. He’s leaning on the bar while checking through a list.

I wait until he’s finished and then clear my throat. “Kane?”

He breaks into a wide grin the moment he sees me. “You must be the hot new bartender everyone is talking about.”

Heat crawls up my neck and face. Did someone really tell him I’m hot? Maybe they were talking about someone else. “Ah, I’m Brooke.”

“Kane.” He holds out his hand for me to shake. “Boy am I glad you showed up. We’re one down tonight until midnight, and then we’ll be two down until the end of our shift. I hope you’re a quick study, Brooke. Linc says you’ve worked a bar before.”

“I am. I have.”

Surely, Linc has casual employees or people he can call in, or more people he can hire?

“Excellent. I need you to fill these forms out before we get started. Once you’re done, we can get to work.”

The stack of papers he puts in front of me is massive, and even though I came prepared to fill out all my details—I have bits of paper with my bank details tucked inside my purse—I know it’s going to take me a while to get through the pile.

Seeing my expression, Kane smiles apologetically. “It looks like there’s more than there actually is. You should be done within the hour, which will leave us with another hour to go through your training before we open.”

“Okay,” I say before carrying the paperwork over to one of the booths along the side wall.

Thankfully, Kane is right and I finish in less than half an hour.

“That was quick,” Kane says as I hand him the completed stack of paperwork.

I smile. “You were right. There wasn’t that much there.”

His expression is approving. “You see the metal door over there?”

When I look at where he’s pointing, I see the door Jemma and I walked through when we needed to go backstage last Sunday.

“The code tonight is twenty-two-twenty-five. Punch it in and then take every left turn. You should end up behind this door right here.”

He motions over his shoulder to the door which must lead into the bar area. I nod and quickly follow his directions.

Kane actually meets me in the room behind the door, which is where the lockers for staff are. He gives me my locker number and I put my handbag and jacket in there before pulling out a skimpy pair of black shorts and a red and black corset just like the female Midnight Frenzy dancers wore the night I came in for my interview.

“This is…”

“Your new uniform,” Kane says with a grin.

I’m suddenly extremely grateful for all the Zumba sessions my sister has dragged me to in the past few months; there won’t be much of me that isn’t on display while I’m working.

“You’ll need to try it on, of course, but it should fit.”

The tag gives the bust, waist and height measurements, and yes, I agree it should fit me, but I can’t help but be a little embarrassed that whoever organised my outfit knows my size. There are just some things a girl likes to keep to herself.

“And if it doesn’t fit?” I ask, curious about the backup plan.

“Then I’ll get you another size.” He leisurely peruses me from head to toe. “Though I’m pretty sure that’s your size.”

I feel my face burn, and Kane’s chuckle tells me I must look as flushed as I feel.

“Come on, Brooke. You can try it on later. For now, let’s get you trained up.”

One hour later, I’m confident Kane has taught me everything he can about the way they do things at Midnight Frenzy. The real test, of course, will be when the doors open. We don’t open for another half hour, but the line is already past the gate according to the third member of our bar team tonight—a very pretty auburn-haired girl who asked me to call her Cat.

Cat and Kane. I can imagine I’m going to mix their names up if I’m under pressure and I need something quickly. Here’s hoping that doesn’t happen and everything goes smoothly. While things at the club seem fairly straightforward, I’m nervous about the fact we’ll be two bartenders down at midnight when Cat goes home. Midnight Frenzy is a massive club and I don’t relish the thought of angry, thirsty patrons having to wait longer than they should for a drink.

“Time to suit up,” Kane says when the clock hits eight.

“Where do I change?” I ask.

Cat signals for me to follow her. “Grab your makeup and uniform, and I’ll show you where the dressing rooms are.”

Aside from Cat and myself, the dressing rooms are empty. Probably because the dancers haven’t turned up yet. I quickly change out of my jeans and t-shirt and into my costume. Then I take a moment to study myself in the mirror, making sure nothing is bulging out of my short shorts and tight corset top.

I can’t remember ever wearing anything so provocative, or revealing, or sexy. My breasts look full and high, and my legs look incredibly long and toned in the high heels I’m wearing. I put make-up on before I came to work, but I touch up my mascara and lipstick and release my hair from the messy bun I’ve had it in for since I showered earlier. It cascades down my back in waves and I run my fingers through it until it sits right.

“Brooke,” Cat says, knocking on the door with a quick rap. “Kane said I need to make sure your uniform fits.”

Taking a deep breath, I open the dressing room door. Cat lets out a low whistle when she sees me.

“Turn around,” she demands, making a spin-for-me motion with her finger.

“The men are going to be lining up in front of you.” She studies me a moment longer, hand on her hip as she does so. “I think your eyes could do with being a bit darker, though. Hang on.”

She reaches into the small purse in her hand and pulls out eyeliner. I stand still and close my eyes as she applies it.

“Take a look,” she tells me when she’s done.

In this outfit, with my make-up heavy and so much of my body on display, I feel a little bit sexy.

Okay, I feel a lot sexy. I feel like I belong here at Midnight Frenzy.

“What do you think?” Cat asks.

I grin. “I think I’m ready.”

When she nods her approval, I grab my clothes, stopping briefly to put them in my locker before Cat lets us back into the bar area.

Kane grins as soon as he sees me. “Told you it would fit, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” I concede.

In his uniform, Kane looks good, too. He’s wearing black dress pants, a bowtie, and a black vest that hangs open, revealing a washboard set of abs. He’s tanned and toned, and I can’t help thinking he’s the token eye candy for the women who come to the club.

“You checking me out, Brooke?” he asks, a knowing grin tugging at his lips.

“Just making sure your uniform fits you properly.”

He chuckles at my response, and I’m about to join in with him when a movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention.

I turn around just in time to see Linc standing on the opposite side of the bar in a white shirt, charcoal coloured vest and pants. His suit jacket is slung over his shoulder. Freshly showered with his hair slicked back, he looks insanely handsome. I can’t seem to stop myself from taking in every inch of his perfectly defined and sculpted body: the lean hips, broad shoulders and powerful thighs.

He’s performing his own scan of me, I realise as he walks up to the bar so he can see all of me. His gaze lingers on my hips before travelling over my breasts. I feel my nipples bead and push out. I’m horrified that they seem to be trying to signal they want his attention. Fortunately, he can’t see them through my outfit. Thank heavens for small mercies. I feel naked enough as it is.

The way Linc is looking at me makes me uncomfortable, but not for the reason it should. I should feel uncomfortable because he’s my boss. Instead, I’m nervous because I want him to approve of the way I look. Midnight Frenzy is his club. Both Kane and Cat are very attractive, as are the dancers. Clearly, Linc hires people who are easy on the eye. And why not? Beautiful people draw the masses. Linc needs to know I'm capable of luring people over to buy alcohol. Do I pass muster?

“She’s going to drive all the men in here to drink,” Cat says.

I don’t know what it is I expect to see when Linc’s eyes finally meet mine for the first time tonight, but it isn’t the dark hunger I see in them. Immediately, my belly fills with molten lava, and my whole body pulses with a foreign kind of excitement as our eyes lock.

What is happening to me? I have never been this affected by a man before.

Linc clears his throat before tearing his gaze away from mine. “Thirsty patrons pay very well. Cat, are you staying till close?”

Linc has his professional mask firmly back in place, leaving me with the lingering effects of that look, my belly still quivering from the heat I swore I saw in his eyes.

“I can’t tonight, Linc. I’m sorry. Tim has to fly to Perth for an early conference and no one can watch Adam for me tonight. I need to be home before one.”

Seeing my puzzled expression, Cat explains, “Adam is my eighteen-month-old son.”

I nod, but I’m already worrying about what Linc will say. Kane doesn’t seem to have a problem with her leaving at midnight, but I’m not sure Linc with be as forgiving. The last time I worked at a bar, I was friendly with a young mother who needed to leave work to look after her sick child twice in one week. She was never offered another shift.

The look of irritation or anger I expect from Linc never comes, however. Instead, his eyes fill with understanding. “It’s fine, Cat. I’ll fill in for you at midnight.”

I feel as though my eyes are about to bulge out of their sockets. Linc is going to work the bar with us? Surely, he doesn’t have to do that. He could ask someone else to.

As soon as Linc walks away, I ask Kane about it.

“Linc likes working behind the bar. He likes to keep his finger on the pulse of this place and he probably wants a hand in training you.” He winks. “You’ll find he pitches in wherever there’s work to be done. He loves this club. He wants to see it succeed.”

“Linc is seriously the best boss,” Cat says. “If someone needs help, he’s there.”

I want to ask more questions, but I’ve run out of time. The lights are going down, the music is now pumping, and I know we’re minutes away from being open.

Unfortunately, my heart is still in overdrive from the thought of working behind the bar with Linc. So much for him just being the guy who signs my paychecks. I really have to get a hold of myself. The problem is that I’m not sure how to. I’ve never had this problem before. My reactions to Linc are...completely foreign to me. I’ve been ignoring the opposite sex for the past five years of my life. The problem with Linc is that I can’t ignore him.

Kane taps me on the arm. “Ready? It’s eight-thirty.”

For the next hour and a half, I’m completely run off my feet. The moment the doors opened, the club flooded with people. Kane warned me, but nothing could have prepared me for the noise or the demands of the people at the bar. And, as Cat predicted, the guys do seem to wait in my queue. At Midnight Frenzy, each bartender has their own area behind the bar that they’re expected to stick to. Purple lights on the floor mark the beginning and end of each section. My section is between Cat and Kane, in case I need help with anything.

Aside from the utter relentlessness of the line of people needing service, everything else about this bar is the same as the others I’ve worked at, and I catch Kane giving me approving nods as he keeps an eye on me, which makes me feel good.

At ten o’clock the dancers perform their first show of the night, and relief is in sight. When the curtains go up, everyone in the club—and I do mean everyone—is focused on the stage. This is awesome for two reasons. One, it’s the first time in an hour and a half that I feel like I can breathe. And two, I can finally watch the dance Jemma has been telling me about all week.

My eyes are glued to the stage as the master of ceremonies walks off and the curtains go up. I make sure I search out Jemma before I look for Linc. The two are on opposite sides of the stage, men on one side and women on the other. Each dancer is making a series of hip-hop movements. All the hard work they’ve put in has paid off because they’re so in sync; it looks incredible. When the guys start walking up walls while the girls keep dancing, it gets even better. I don’t even notice the couch on stage until Linc somersaults through the air and over half the dancers.

Just when I think it can’t get any better, the music changes, the women and men start partnering up, and the dancing becomes something that is definitely adults only. I feel heat settle and spread throughout my body as I watch the women dance in front of their partners, bending over while the men move against their backside in an act that can only be described as mimicking sex. I may not be experienced, but I’m pretty sure that’s what sex looks like with clothes on.

With each move I watch Linc make, I feel it in my body, as if it’s me there in front of him, instead of his partner. I swallow, feeling parched, and shocked… and aroused. The crowd is going bananas, cheering and whistling. And me? I want to join in with them, but now that I’m part of the staff, I’m not sure I’m supposed to.

I jump as Kane leans in. “You like the dancing, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” I croak, feeling as though I’ve just been wrenched from a delicious dream. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“I keep telling Linc that the bar staff should perform, too. You know, get up on top of the bar at some point during the evening and put on our own show.”

“What, like in Coyote Ugly?” I ask, turning to look at him.

He looks amused. “Yes, but with us guys. Do you dance, Brooke?”

“I wish.”

I didn’t realise it before I said it, but it’s so true. I want to learn to dance. I want to do what they’re doing up on that stage.

“You wouldn’t be opposed to learning a routine, then?”

I shake my head. I wouldn’t be opposed. I think I’d like that. And if it was Linc teaching me how to dance on this bar, I think I’d like it even better.

4: Too Hot & Off Limits

Linc

Brooke Masters does not match the mental image I conjured of her a few days ago. When Jemma told me about her friend—an accountant who’d never stepped foot inside a club before—the picture I got in my head was of someone a lot less… sexy. Brooke is hands down the sexiest woman I’ve seen in the club tonight. The small amount of make-up she’s wearing highlights her hazel eyes, high cheekbones, and voluptuous mouth.

She’s smoking hot, which is the last thing I need her to be. I have plans for her—plans that don’t involve making her blush simply because she looks so good with colour in her cheeks. Plans that don’t involve fantasising about her kneeling naked in front of me, my hands tangled in her hair and her mouth wrapped around my dick as her glorious hazel eyes look up at me.

I shake my head, trying to clear out the far too exciting images dancing through my head. My blood feels too hot and pulses thickly low in my belly. This is exactly what I don’t need. I have too much at stake for any kind of distraction. I can’t afford to screw the staff. More importantly, I can’t afford to screw Brooke. Not when I need her help.

Not when the future of my club is at stake.

A quick glance over my shoulder confirms Brooke is following me. I lead her down a series of hallways until we reach my office. After opening the door, I step out of the way and let her through. Her obvious nervousness is replaced by surprise as she takes in the utilitarian furniture that fills the space. There wasn’t a whole lot of money left in the budget by the time I’d finished outfitting the club—not for the nice, luxurious office everyone expects me to have. About the only thing state-of-the-art in here is my computer.

Normally, I don’t conduct interviews in here, and Kane, my bar manager, could have easily interviewed Brooke. However, I want to get a feel for this woman, get to know her a little. I need to know if everything Jemma told me about her is true. Is Brooke really the good and decent person Jemma promised me she is? More importantly, can I trust her with the financial situation of my club?

I shut the door behind us and motion to one of the empty metallic chairs Brooke is eyeing curiously. “Have a seat, Brooke.”

The moment she sits down, her nervousness appears to return; her hands smooth her skirt down her thighs before she folds them in her lap. Her gaze darts around the room before landing on her resume which is sitting on my desk. Jemma passed it on a few days ago and I’ve already given it a thorough look through. Just as Jemma promised, Brooke is more than qualified to work the bar. But it’s her accounting experience I’m more interested in. The accounting firm she worked at is reputable, and the fact they offered her a job straight out of university speaks volumes about her abilities.

“You’re an accountant,” I state. “I guess that means I don’t have to test your basic maths.”

Her smile is the epitome of polite. “No. I passed maths with flying colours.”

“That’s a relief. You have no idea how many beautiful girls walk through the doors of this club not knowing how to add a few numbers together.”

Colour sweeps up her cheeks, and again I find myself admiring how gorgeous she looks like with a flush on her high cheekbones.

“Addition and subtraction aren’t problems for me,” she assures me.

“Want to tell me about what happened at S.T. Meeks & Associates?”

Her smile slips a little. “It was a case of last one on, first one off. I have a letter of recommendation from my boss. He was more than satisfied with my performance. He simply didn’t feel right firing some of the people who had been with him for twenty years or more when I’d been with them for less than eighteen months.”

“That sucks.”

She shrugs. “I understand his thinking. Unfortunately, it doesn’t change the fact I’m now jobless.”

I lean back in my chair. “And now you want to work behind the bar here at Midnight Frenzy?”

She squirms in her chair. Jemma filled me in on Brooke’s background and I’m fairly confident I know the answer to this question already, but I want to hear what she says. I need to know whether or not she can be honest.

“I worked hard for my degree in accounting,” she starts cautiously. “And then I worked hard at Meeks & Associates. I did all that so I could put together the most stable and secure life possible for my sister. Working behind the bar lends itself to late nights, occasionally unpredictable clientele, and a rotating roster. So, if I had a choice between an accounting job and working behind the bar, I’d choose the accounting job. But right now, I don’t have the luxury of choice. That said, I don’t think you should let my answer deter you from hiring me. I’ll work hard for you—as hard, if not harder, than any other bartender.”

She breathes out a large sigh and looks almost apologetic for her impassioned speech. If only she knew how much she just impressed me. There’s no doubt in my mind she means what she said about working hard. Plus, she was honest—a necessity if we’re going to be working together. Right now, I’m positive Jemma hasn’t exaggerated Brooke’s good points. Brooke Masters may just be the answer to all my prayers.

See, I really need a new accountant. Technically, the money that went into this place is my parents’, not mine. They’re the millionaires—billionaires if you want to be technical—not me. To get this place off the ground, I had to borrow from them, and the strings that came with that transaction would shock the general public. Never borrow from friends or family; a great rule to follow if possible. Unfortunately, I didn’t exactly have another option.

Now my folks are waiting for me to fail so that I’ll take my place beside my father at Rivers’ Diversified Financials. That’s clearly stated in the contract. What else is stated in the contract? I have to marry Claudia Henley, the daughter of long-term family friends, if my club doesn’t succeed. Forget the fact I actually did date Claudia for a while, and forget the fact I never loved her. I give up my right to be a bachelor if my club doesn’t start making some serious coin.

The price of failure is too high. Signing a contract with my parents was a mistake, but every bank I visited looked at me like I was a rich playboy who’d never had a real job. I only had one choice. It wasn’t even a choice, really. I would have sold my soul to the devil for this dream. And now that I’m living my dream I can’t let it go. I won’t. I have to make my club a success.

“What did Jemma tell you about the position?” I ask.

“Just that I’d be working nights and that I’d be behind the bar.”

“Good.”

Jemma doesn’t know that I want Brooke for her accounting skills. It was simply fortunate Jemma told me she knows a bartender who lost her job as an accountant and desperately needs a job to keep a roof over her sister’s head. It’s a win-win scenario as far as I’m concerned. Brooke is desperate to find employment so she can continue supporting her younger sister, and I’m desperate for someone to have another look at the numbers the accountant keeps throwing me.

I was so sure when I did the projections for Midnight Frenzy that I’d be able to start paying my parents back within the year. Now the club is more popular than I expected it to be, yet my accountant keeps telling me we’re “haemorrhaging money.” Of course, I don’t believe him. I don’t trust him. But the contract I signed stipulates that my parents get to choose the accountant and they have full access to the books upon request.

Stupidly, I can’t straight up hire Brooke as my accountant because it goes against the contract, but there’s nothing that says I can’t hire a bartender with a background in accounting. I want Brooke to work for me behind the bar while I get to know her. If, after a few weeks, I’m still convinced I like her and trust her, I’ll ask her to look over the books. I’m so desperate, I’d like to ask her now, but since I’ll be relying on Brooke to keep the details of my family dynamics and contract confidential, as well as asking her to accept money on the down low, I have to be sure this girl can keep a secret. I need a few weeks just to be sure.

“How do you feel about leaving your sister alone four nights a week, Brooke?”

“I don’t like it, but I have a neighbour who will look after her. Still, I’d like to keep my phone on me during my shifts.”

“That’s not a problem.”

“Great. Thank you,” she says, rewarding me with a smile.

“Well, you’re more than qualified for the job. So, it’s yours if you want it.”

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.”

I can only imagine how stressed she’s been about not having a job. As part of my staff, I’ll make sure she’s well looked after.

“Does Wednesday through Saturday work for you shift wise?” I ask.

“You don’t have a rotating roster?”

“No, I think stability helps keep my employees happy.”

Her smile is so brilliant I can’t help but return it.

“Wednesday to Saturday suits me,” she replies. “When can I start?”

“This Wednesday, if that works for you. I know it’s fast, but—”

“It’s fine. Really,” she assures me. “Wednesday is great.”

It’s a relief she can start so quickly. I’ve been stepping up to tend bar, intent on keeping an eye on the casual staff I’ve been forced to use recently. I was planning to stop once I hired more permanent staff, but working the bar with Brooke could be the perfect chance for me to get to know her a little better. Not to mention, I like to be across all parts of my business. Even with Brooke working the bar, we’re still understaffed. No one will question me alongside her.

“Welcome to Midnight Frenzy, then,” I say. “Be here at six-thirty for your first shift so you can fill out the paperwork we need from you. Kane will take you through things.”

I stand up and she follows suit. As I open the door, she looks at me with a soft expression that makes my heart skip a beat. “Thank you, Linc. For everything.”

“You’re welcome. Jemma’s down that way, I’m guessing.” I point towards the end of the hallway. “I can hear her laughing. See you next week, Brooke.”

I fail at not watching the sexy sway of her hips as she walks away from me. I have to admit I’m a little concerned over how attractive I find her. I never flirt with staff. Never. True, I didn’t realise she was Jemma’s friend at the time, but I should have known something was up because she was backstage. Living like a monk these past few weeks has clearly done my head in. Dancing and making sure my club survives have been my top priorities, but after spending ten minutes with Brooke, I have some extra energy to dispose of.

Walking back to my desk, I pick up my phone and dial a number.

“Hey, baby,” Destiny’s voice croons down the line. “It’s been a while.”

“Too long,” I agree. “Are you free tonight?”

“You know I’m always free for you. Do you want me to come down to the club or do you want to come over?”

“I’ll come to you.”

“I’ll leave the door open,” she says happily. “See you later.”

I hang up the phone and stand up, ready to get back to work.

There are hundreds of women in my club tonight that would be willing to come home with me, but I don’t need or want more than a few hours of fun. The girls in my address book know the score. They don’t want anything from me that I can’t give them. I don’t need to pick up a woman here and have her stalk me later, hoping for some kind of commitment.

Since it’s in the contract I have with my parents that I must marry Claudia if my club fails, I have to be discreet. But even if I didn’t have to keep every hook-up on the down low, I wouldn’t pick up here. I refuse to do anything that puts my club in jeopardy, and that includes leaving a woman feeling scorned or slighted. My club comes first. Always. And nothing and no one will ever change that.

My thoughts drift back to Brooke. I hope to God she doesn’t take me up on the offer I extended to her before I found out who she is. I can’t think of anything more torturous than having her turn up to the dance studio I teach at on Tuesdays and watching her dance in front of me.

Well, other than giving her hands-on guidance, of course.

Brooke

After quizzing me about my interview with Linc, Jemma drops me home. I walk up the driveway and knock on the door of Patricia’s unit before letting myself into her place with the key she gave me.

Patricia is sitting in her living room in a dressing gown, her long salt and pepper hair down instead of up in its usual bun.

She stubs out her cigarette in the ashtray beside her and says, “How was your evening, love?”

“Good. I got the job.”

“Of course you did. You’re beautiful and clever. Anyone not interested in hiring you needs their head checked. Your old boss certainly needs his head read.”

Patricia’s loyal words make me smile. In the two years after Mum passed away, Belle and I lived with my uncle, and he helped out where he could. As a bachelor, he didn’t know much about raising girls, but he was there to supervise Belle while I worked in the busy pub his friend owned. He met a woman through the internet a few years back, however, and moved to Queensland. Now Patricia is the closest thing we have to family in the state. There are two units on the block. We rent one and Patricia rents the other. Ever since we moved in, she’s always put her hand up to help.

“How was Belle tonight?”

“Fine. At ten o’clock she was passed out in front of the TV. Just as well, really. She had Sex and the City on and Samantha was talking about some man’s awful tasting ‘spunk’.”

Patricia sees me grimace and chuckles throatily.

“I’m glad she missed that.”

It had fallen on my shoulders to educate Belle about the birds and the bees. My sister was only nine when Mum died, and Mum had been too sick before then to explain anything about sex to her. Now I’m constantly challenged by how much to share with Belle, and how much she should know. I feel so lost sometimes. She’s fourteen. Hardly a baby or young girl, as Jemma keeps pointing out. I know she’s probably heard much worse at school, but I still want to protect her. She’s still my baby sister.

“So, when do you start?” Patricia asks.

“Next Wednesday. Are you sure you don’t mind keeping an eye on Belle four nights a week? It's not going to be too much?”

“Of course I don’t mind, love. God knows what kind of neighbours I’ll wind up with if you girls have to move out. The young man who lived there before you two had parties until all hours of the night and a car that woke me up all the bloody time.”

I grin. She makes it sound like she only likes us because we’re quiet, but her son left home a few years ago and I know she likes having us to fuss over.

“Well, I should probably go check on Belle, make sure she’s gone to bed.”

“Of course. Night, love. Talk to you tomorrow.”

When I walk through the door of the unit I share with my sister, I can hear the television still going. Belle is passed out on the couch in the lounge room. She moans the moment I turn the lights on.

“I thought you’d be in bed, Belle,” I say quietly, using the dimmer switch to turn the lights down.

“Wanted to wait up for you.” She gives me a sleepy smile and then stretches. “I want to hear all about Midnight Frenzy. Ash is going to go mental when I tell her you met Lincoln Rivers.”

I sigh and she wriggles over so I can sit on the couch with her.

It’s a school night and well after midnight, but I don’t mention this. I’m muddling through raising Belle the best way I know how to. Believe it or not, they don’t write books on how to raise your sister. I’ve had to make do with reading every parenting book I can get my hands on and adapting the information to fit my situation. I’m constantly trying to find the balance between being a friend, a sister, and her guardian.

I’m just grateful Belle seems happy. She studies hard and gets good grades, and she doesn’t go out without telling me where she’s going. I’m going to call that a win. Of course, she’s only fourteen and we’ve got a long way to go, but I have to have faith in the relationship I’ve built with her. We’re close. We talk. And even though we’re a tiny family unit of two, we have our own traditions that mean a lot to both of us—like our Friday movie night and our Sunday chili night. I hate the fact that those traditions will be a thing of the past while I’m working at Midnight Frenzy, but we’ll make new traditions. We Masters sisters can be adaptable when we have to be.

“So,” Belle prompts. “What’s he like? What’s the club like?”

“Well,” I start, smiling as mysteriously as I can. “The club is amazing. I don’t know what I was expecting, but Midnight Frenzy is… I don’t know how to describe it. Everything is big and bold. The staff dance—”

“Oh my God, I bet you love that,” Belle squeals.

I nod. “Their routines are choreographed, and the dancing is really good—like the group numbers you’d see on So You Think You Can Dance.”

Except sexier.

Way, way, way sexier.

“And Linc? Ash will kill me if I don’t tell her what you thought of him. She thinks he’s like…” Belle changes her voice and mannerisms to copy her friend’s over the top girly ones. “So dreamy.”

Before meeting Linc, I would have rolled my eyes. Now I just look at Belle and whisper, “I think he’s probably the hottest guy I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Belle’s eyes are huge now and I can’t help but laugh. “Shut up! Is he really that good looking?” she asks. “Ugh, Ash is going to be so jealous.”

Linc Rivers isn’t at all the person I thought he’d be. He’s better looking than I’d ever imagined. He can dance well enough to be a professional. He teaches. He cares about his employees, and he doesn’t try to screw them over, or just plain screw them. The moment he knew I was going to be employed by him, he stopped flirting with me immediately.

And the surprises didn’t stop there, either. If I hadn’t seen it for myself, I never would have believed Linc’s office looked like that—a room devoid of the luxurious furnishings I would have expected a millionaire to have. No expense seems to have been spared when it comes to the rest of the club, but when it comes to his own personal space, he’s made do. As an accountant, I appreciate that. As his newest employee, I’m not sure what to make of it.

“Did you study for your maths test?” I ask Belle.

She groans at my question. “Yes, I studied and then watched TV.”

“What did you watch?”

“I flicked between channels. Caught the last half of Aliens.” She sits up and grins at me, clearly more awake now. “Tell me more about Linc.”

I sigh and look put out, but I’m anything but. Jemma already quizzed me about my first impressions, and I was careful with how I answered those questions because Linc is Jemma’s boss too. With Belle, however, I don’t need to be as guarded. After all, it’s doubtful the two will ever meet. So, I give into her blatant curiosity and spill all the details. She’s hysterical when I tell her I forgot my name while talking to him.

After we’re done giggling and gossiping, I send her off to bed. I can’t deny I’m nervous about how my being away four nights a week might change things between the two of us, but I have to trust we can make this work, at least for a short time. If things become too much to handle, I’ll just have to leave Midnight Frenzy. This—what I have here with Belle—is all that matters. And nothing and no one will ever change that.  

3. The First Shift

Brooke

A song made famous by a local DJ pours out of the club as we pull into the parking lot of Midnight Frenzy, the top night spot in Melbourne. It’s a Sunday night, but the queue extends past the large wire gate and all the way around the block. According to my best friend Jemma, the club reaches capacity before ten every night. Thank God Jemma works as a dancer here, because I’m pretty certain we’d be waiting all night to get in otherwise. Midnight Frenzy used to be an abandoned car factory a twenty-minute drive south of the Central Business District before Lincoln Rivers got his hands on it a year back. Now it’s the place where everyone goes to see and be seen.

“Are you ready to meet Linc Rivers?” Jemma asks me as she pulls into a parking spot reserved for staff.

Am I ready? Not really. Lincoln Rivers, or Linc as Jemma calls him, is supposed to be one of the hottest young bachelors in the country, and the owner of this club, so maybe I should be. However, I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be less. I thought my days of waiting tables and working behind the bar were over with when I got my degree in Business Accounting and landed a job at a small but prestigious firm. Unfortunately, I got laid off two weeks ago.

After two weeks of searching for another accounting job, I’m feeling desperate and more than a little scared. No one seems to be hiring right now. All the accounting firms I checked with are downsizing. With unemployment on the rise, I’m not confident I’ll find something in time to pay the rent next month. I could cope with the uncertainty better if it wasn’t for my little sister, Belle. There’s no way I’m risking getting evicted and losing custody of her.

Jemma waves a hand in front of my face. “Earth to Brooke.”

“I’m ready.”

Jemma grins at me, then flicks her curly honey-blonde hair over her shoulder and opens her door. I follow suit, sliding out of the car and shutting the door behind me.

The bass of the music reverberates through the asphalt underneath my feet and echoes through my body as we start walking towards the club entrance. I huddle closer to Jemma, freezing in my tiny black skirt, black halter neck, and ankle boots. My long reddish-brown hair is piled high on my head, exposing my neck to the icy wind. I’m questioning my sanity in letting Jemma dress me up like one of the dolls we used to play with when we were younger. I like the large gold hoops and gold belt she’s loaned me, but I just feel so… naked. Not that I have anything suitable for clubbing in my wardrobe. I haven’t gone anywhere except work and school since… well, since forever.

“Quit fidgeting, Brooke,” Jemma scolds me. “You look great.”

“I’m cold.”

“You won’t be for long, trust me.”

“Are you sure what I’m wearing is suitable for a job interview?”

“For a job interview with Lincoln Rivers, yes. If you turned up in one of your business suits, he’d probably send you away without talking to you.”

“Isn’t there a back entrance employees can use?” I ask when I see we’re heading for the front of the club. “I don’t want to be spat on or slapped because we’re queue-jumping.”

“Firstly, we’re not queue-jumping.”

I point to the people at the front of the queue. “They don’t know that.”

“Secondly,” Jemma continues, “you have a warped impression of people who go clubbing.”

“Do I?”

“For someone who has never stepped foot inside a nightclub before, yes.”

My sister has been my top priority since I turned eighteen, and I just haven’t had time—or babysitting—to kick up my heels, party, or go clubbing with Jemma. The past five years have been spent buckling down, working my butt off and studying. And even if there have been brief moments where I’ve wondered what it would be like to let loose for a night, I don’t feel like I’ve missed out. How can I when Jemma hangs out at my apartment so much, sharing all her crazy tales and exploits, and allowing me to live vicariously through her?

Nightclubs are her world. She’s a dancer by trade and she’s spent nearly every weekend dancing her nights away since she was old enough to. Landing a job as one of Midnight Frenzy’s dancers eight months ago was a dream come true for her.

Two giant bouncers guard the doorway of the club. One is skinny and has tattoos up and down his arms, while the other is large and bald. Both of them grin when they see Jemma and me walking towards them.

“Hey, Jem,” the bald one says as he unclips the red rope barrier and lifts it to let us through.

Jemma gives him a quick kiss on the cheek and then walks through. I’m not even aware of her pulling me with her until the rope comes down and I realise I’m standing between the two large men dressed in black. As scary as they look, their expressions are friendly.

“Mick, Shane, this is my bestie, Brooke.”

I smile politely. “Hi.”

“Nice to meet you, Brooke,” Mick, the tattooed one, says.

The bald one Jemma called Shane nods. “Any friend of Jem’s is a friend of ours.”

“Aw,” Jemma says, patting Shane’s chest. “You’re the sweetest.”

Shane’s smile grows and the warmth in his eyes is unmistakable. Clearly, he’s smitten with my friend. I can’t blame him, Jemma is awesome. She never gave up on me or dropped me like so many of my other friends did when I started spending more time looking after Mum and Belle, and less time going to parties and hanging out. And when Mum couldn’t fight the cancer anymore, Jemma was there for me when I had no one else left.

“I thought you had the night off,” Mick says.

“This is why I took it off. Brooke is being interviewed for one of the bartender jobs and I wanted to bring her,” Jemma explains. “Can you believe she’s never been in a nightclub before? I can’t wait to see her face.”

I wish the floor would open up and swallow me. I’m not ashamed I’ve never been to a club, but it does sound strange to hear it out loud.

Mick’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as he turns his attention to me. “And you’re applying for a position behind the bar at Midnight Frenzy?”

Sure, I could go back to waitressing or being a barmaid somewhere else; I have the experience. But if Linc pays me as much as Jemma thinks he will, I’ll only have to work four nights a week to take home the same money I was making as an accountant. Of course, I’m a little nervous about working in a club that’s been touted as one of the most seductive places on earth, but I’m only staying on until I can find another job as an accountant.

“She sure is,” Jemma replies, taking my hand in hers again and pulling me into the club with her before I can answer.

My heart starts pounding as my anticipation heightens. I hear and feel the activity before I see it. As soon as Jemma releases my hand and moves out of my way, I gasp. “Wow.”

“I know, right?”

There’s so much to take in, but the first thing that snags my attention is the bar. Lit up with purple and maroon lighting, it takes up the entire left wall of the place. It’s huge! I have no idea how many people Linc employs to serve there, but I bet he needs more than the three people currently working at breakneck speed to serve the thirsty patrons.

My gaze moves from the bar to the maroon booths lining every spare bit of wall space. There are small tables set out between the booths and the dance floor—a dance floor that is absolutely chockers with people dancing and grinding against each other to some popular dance tune I recognise from the radio. Finally, my gaze slides to the very front of the club where there’s a stage in the shape of a semicircle.

Jemma grabs my arm, making sure she has my attention when the popular dance song stops. “Watch this.”

A very handsome Latino-looking man appears in front of a microphone stand that must have been on the stage waiting for him. The open maroon vest he’s wearing reveals a washboard set of abs, and the crowd goes wild when he grins.

“That’s Midnight’s MC,” Jemma explains.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Midnight Frenzy,” the MC says. “Make some noise if you’re ready to see one of the hottest acts in the country.”

Loud applause breaks out from all directions. Jemma is clapping like a crazy person next to me and, caught up in the same wave of enthusiasm and excitement everyone else is feeling, I clap too. Wolf whistles, stomping, and applause ring through the large club as the overhead lights make circular patterns on the stage. Jemma has spent the past eight months telling me how special the club is, how much she loves dancing here, and how great Linc is, but the atmosphere in the place still takes my breath away.

“I hope you like it scorching hot because this dance will have you wanting to take a cold shower before it’s over. Will you please put your hands together and welcome Midnight Frenzy’s dance team: Tease!” the MC yells before taking the microphone and stand, moving off stage.

The maroon curtains open up as a remix of a popular dance track starts to play. Male and female dancers spill onto the stage as soon as the beat really kicks in. The MC didn’t exaggerate. The number is hot. I mean, panty-melting hot. Not just because of the way the men and women are partnering up and moving together, but because of what they’re wearing. Or rather what they’re not wearing. The women are dressed in maroon and black corsets, black lace shorts, stockings and high heels, while the men are all bare-chested, wearing nothing but black pants and shoes.

The routine is superbly choreographed, daring and adrenaline inducing. So much so, I have goosebumps and my pulse is racing. I want to take the time to appreciate every dancer up there, but my gaze keeps being pulled to the male dancer second from the left. His dark hair is short on the sides and longer on top. There’s something absolutely magnetic about him and the way he moves. It also doesn’t hurt that his abs are incredible, and his face is just as drool worthy.

I stand there, spell-bound, as he lifts the female he’s partnered with, throws her into the air and then catches her easily. His technique is flawless, and for the first time in a long time I wish I hadn’t had to give up my dance classes. For the past eight and a half years, I’ve contented myself with watching dance shows and dance movies. I’ve told myself I didn’t want to dance that much anyway. Now, however, I wonder what my life might have been like if I hadn’t stopped dancing.

My feet start to move of their own accord. The energy in the building is so high it’s impossible not to be affected by it. The suggestive moves the dancers are making, the fragrant cocktail of perfume, cologne and alcohol, and the beat of the music are a combination that titillates the senses. No wonder this club is so popular. It’s some kind of fantasy land in here—a private dancing paradise away from the rest of the city.

And I can’t help but enjoy a private fantasy of my own as I stand watching. In it, I’m the one on that stage dancing with Mr Second-From-The-Left instead of the brunette currently swinging her hips in front of him. The thought of him dancing with me the way he’s dancing with his partner causes my stomach to drop down to my toes. I definitely don’t feel cold anymore. If anything, I’m burning up.

The stomach thing happens to me again as I watch him wrap his arm around his partner’s hips and press his body against hers before spinning her out and dipping her.

“He’s pretty good, isn’t he?” Jemma yells in my ear.

I’d completely forgotten Jemma for a moment. She smirks at me when I turn to look at her, and my cheeks burn as I realise she’s caught me ogling Mr Second-From-The-Left as if he’s a piece of meat. I can’t remember the last time that happened. There isn’t time in my life for romance or men, so what’s the point of indulging in fantasies?

Jemma leans in close. “I do feel the need to warn you that you’re eye-fucking your new boss right now. If you decide to take the job, that is.”

“What?” I yell, pointing to Mr Second-From-The-Left. “That’s Linc?”

Jemma mentioned once or twice that Linc dances, but I never thought he danced on stage with everyone else. I’m also embarrassed I haven’t recognised the famous bachelor. Then again, it’s been a while since I’ve wanted to depress myself by turning on the news or buying a newspaper, meaning I haven’t seen his picture much. Shame on me. And I’m also ashamed to admit I never assumed he would be interested in dancing with his staff.

I judged him as a bored bachelor with too much money on his hands, but anyone who can dance as well as Linc has to have worked hard and trained hard. It’s obvious the guy loves to dance and is brilliant at it. Creating a place like this, where he can show off that kind of passion and invite other people to do the same is… admirable. Sure, it’s easier to follow a dream when you have the money to do so, but I still think it takes courage to want something and go for it. It takes a vision. It takes energy and a whole lot of commitment.

Jemma grins at me and nods. “And he absolutely doesn’t sleep with his employees.” Her expression changes to a grimace. “Trust me, a couple of ex-employees found that out the hard way. He fired them both after they refused to be deterred by the word no.”

Well, he won’t encounter that problem from me. He might be the hottest guy I’ve ever seen and dance well enough to make me drool, but I’m not interested in a one-night stand or a relationship. When Belle turns eighteen in few years’ time, things may be different. Until then, I don’t have time to get involved with a guy. And I’m just as confident that Linc Rivers will have no interest in me—a virgin who doesn’t dance anymore.

All too soon, the show comes to an end and I clap and cheer as loudly as the rest of the crowd.

“Come on,” Jemma says, tugging on my arm as the dancers disappear back behind the curtain.

I hesitate. “I don’t want to mob him as soon as he comes off the stage.”

“You’re not mobbing him. He’s expecting you. And it’s too loud out here to talk. We have to go backstage.”

Instead of conducting an interview during normal business hours, Linc told Jemma he’d meet me tonight, making this some kind of informal interview.

Jemma guides me towards a heavy metal door on the left-hand side of the stage. Once we’re there, she punches in a code and the door springs open.

Backstage is a flurry of activity. People are laughing and talking loudly as they move around. I feel a little self-conscious as the staff and dancers greet Jemma and hug her, looking at me curiously when she introduces me. I smile and nod, and try to say the right things, but I’m aware I don’t sound like someone my age might. I used to work with people much older than myself. The last time I regularly hung out with people my own age, I was working in a pub, putting myself through university and trying desperately to keep a roof over my sister’s head. In other words, I didn’t have time to make friends or have a good time.

We stop suddenly and I almost bump into Jemma. “Hey, I have to talk to someone.” She points towards one of the stage exits. “Linc is over there.”

I look over just in time to see Linc pull a black t-shirt over his head, covering up his flawless abs.

I swallow nervously and force my gaze back to Jemma. “I can wait until you’re done talking to… whoever.”

Jemma shakes her head. “Don’t be silly. Go and introduce yourself to Linc. I’ll be over in a minute. I promise.”

Before I can protest again, Jemma walks away.

I shift my weight from one foot to the other as I deliberate on whether I should go over and interrupt the conversation he’s currently engaged in with his dance partner and another male dancer. Yes, I’m procrastinating, but I can’t deny I’m a little bit intimidated by the guy. Okay, a lot intimidated. I still can’t believe I was actually fantasising about him before Jemma told me who he was.

Get it together, Masters. How scary can one super-hot millionaire be?

Linc looks like he’s getting ready to move away. If I wait for Jemma, Linc could disappear before I get the chance to say anything to him. Decision made, I move quickly. Within seconds my feet are planted in front of him, and my stomach is doing that strange dipping thing again. Linc is easily the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. This close to him, I’m even more impressed by the angular jaw, flushed cheeks, full lips and dark green eyes. His hair is slightly messy, probably after pulling his t-shirt on, and I can smell the cologne or deodorant he’s wearing.

I can’t seem to work out how to talk in the face of such beauty. My cheeks heat as he raises an eyebrow at me, waiting for me to say something.

“I love the way you dance,” I blurt out after a moment, dying inside at how breathless and impressed I sound.

He takes a sip of water from a bottle he’s holding and then grins at me. “Thanks.”

His voice is low and rich, and his grin is dazzling. Holy heck, I think I just forgot my name. Why can’t Linc look and sound like my previous boss, Mr Meeks? He never made my stomach dip, and he never made me forget things I definitely shouldn’t forget.

It’s possible I’m going to blow this informal interview before I’ve even introduced myself. And that’s after Jemma warned me about the two women Linc fired for not being able to control themselves around him! Suddenly, I feel a lot more sympathetic towards them.

His eyes leisurely take me in from head to toe and I feel a stab of heat low in my belly as I see something that looks a lot like approval in his gaze.

“Do you dance?” he asks, his gaze locked with mine now.

“I used to. I mean, I used to take dance lessons, and I loved them, but then life got in the way, you know?”

Mum started getting sick when I was fourteen, and she couldn’t keep working. We needed to cut back on spending, so I told her I was happy to give up the dance lessons, but I would never have stopped if we’d been able to afford it. Linc, however, doesn’t strike me as someone who lets anything stand in his way. The intensity with which he dances… I’m still a bit in awe of what I saw on that stage.

But, I’m not here to talk about dancing, his or mine. I’m here for a job behind the bar.

“Everyone should dance if they want to…” he says, clearly fishing for my name.

“Brooke,” I supply, grateful my brain has kicked back in.

He’s grinning at me again. “Well, Brooke, I teach dance at a studio in Sandringham on Tuesday afternoons: beginner, intermediate, and advanced classes. If you liked what you saw tonight, you should come along and see what I can teach you.”

The suggestive invitation combined with the heat in his eyes makes me feel weak in the knees. I’m struggling to draw breath. I swear he’s flirting with me, but Jemma said he doesn’t put the moves on his staff.

He doesn’t know who you are, dummy. He doesn’t know you’re probably his newest staff member.

“Ah,” I stutter, “I should probably introduce myself. I’m Brooke Masters, Jemma’s friend. I’m here about the job.”

Confusion fills Linc’s eyes, and his gaze is assessing and critical as his eyes slide over me this time. I get the distinct impression he’s less than impressed with what he’s seeing now. Have I dressed inappropriately for this interview? No, Jemma told me what I’m wearing is perfect.

“You’re my new bartender?” he asks.

“If you want me,” I say, blushing hard as I realise how suggestive the words sound.

Something hot flashes in his eyes and I feel my stomach clench in response. Just as quickly the heat disappears and is replaced by something cool. His smile is now full of professionalism and absolutely nothing like the grin he gave me a minute ago. Obviously the fact I could be his employee means he's not going to flirt with me. I should feel relieved—the last thing I need is some sex on a stick millionaire making my blood run too hot. But instead, I feel just the smallest bit disappointed.

“Nice to meet you, Brooke. Jemma has told me a lot about you.”

I don’t hesitate to take his hand when he offers it to me, but I have to make a concerted effort not to jerk my hand away when awareness shoots up my arm and my skin tingles where he’s touching it. I’m grateful when he lets my hand go.

“I think my office is the best place for us to talk.” He motions for me to follow him. “It’s this way.”

Realising I’m about to be alone with Linc, my heart picks up its already-speedy pace. For a moment I contemplate telling him I’ll wait for Jemma to join us, but Linc is not a man whose time I want to waste. And so I nod, swallow my nerves and protests, and follow him as soon as he starts walking.

2: The Interview

A steamy new adult workplace romance….

Brooke Masters, in need of a job, hesitantly agrees to an interview at the hottest nightclub in town. But her plan to make some quick cash and find something more stable takes a turn when the super-hot and driven club owner, Lincoln Rivers, shares a secret and asks for her help. The deal? He'll teach her the killer dance moves she's been dying to learn if she'll help him with the club's finances.

Having given up on dancing a while back and now eager to help, Brooke is totally in. It should be a win-win, right? But the more time they spend together, the harder it gets for her to ignore the sparks flying every time Linc touches her. But she's got to keep it together, because the one thing Linc cares about more than his club is his independence. And he's made it super clear that love is a no-go for him.

1: The Club

2: The Interview

3: The First Shift

4: Too Hot & Off Limits

5: The Dance Class

6: The New Staff

7: Claudia Henley

8: The Deal

9: One on One

10: N.C.V (Nightclub Virgin)

11: Corrupting Brooke

12: Tonight is Just a Tease

13: Mind if I Stay?

14: The Kiss

15: Caught in the Act

16: Dance with Me