LEATHER AND LACE (BAD BOYS & GOOD GIRLS, #1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

Connections were acquaintances, not friends. And absolutely always sex in his bed involved a willing partner—nothing more.
    “Marty’s got a situation. One you gotta see.” Only now did Sam let a wide grin overtake his face.
    Jackass .
    “Marty? Is he covering someone?”
    “Negative. He’s not working the door or the bar or the floor or security. This is a membership problem.”
    “Issue!” Brandon pushed his Stetson back on his head and inhaled. “A membership issue . You got that?”
    “Yeah. Issue. I also got to get back to the bar. We’re busy tonight.”
    “Fine. See you downstairs, Sherlock.”
    “Now you’re just being ornery,” Sam snorted.
    Brandon sucked in a retort about dusting liquor bottles as payback. That shot of Jack sounded better and better. What the hell? He yanked open his bottom drawer and grabbed the bottle by the neck. He poured a liberal finger or two into his empty coffee mug. He drained the shot of whiskey and replaced the bottle in his drawer.
    He trekked down the stairs, walking a direct line into the membership office run by Marty, a thirty-something injured bull-riding-rodeo-king. Marty had recently settled a huge lawsuit against an arena and needed something to do to fill his time. He wasn’t a loud talker. He kept his mouth shut and his eyes open, and knew how to size up everything from large animals down to fast-talking men and women trying to bullshit their way into the club.
    The man was dead-on when it came to red-flagging potential troublesome club applicants. He’d been head of membership since the place opened, and Sam was right. He never veered away from the regulations and never needed help in revoking a membership. Not once had Marty ever needed to see him in a hurry.
    There were only a few S & L rules, and each was black and white. No one could pretend forgetting them, they were so goddamn simple to memorize. The membership rule amounted to one: only he or Pen granted a membership. Anyone who broke a club rule was shown the door, and his or her membership cancelled. Three other club rules, starting with put your hands on another member without permission and you’re done. No guns, knives, or weapons of any sort on the premises. Keep your mouth shut about members’ names and the activities that occur within the club. No ifs, ands, or buts.
    Up ahead he met the manager’s wide eyes. He waved Brandon over, but instead of staying put, Marty limped across the bar to meet him. “Over here,” he said and got his cane tangled up in one of the chairs. “Hold on.”
    “What’s got you going?” He scanned the bar area. Nothing looked unusual. The tables were filled, the bar was busier than a hornet’s nest, and the staff along the halls were handling reservations and handing out keys.
    Regular Sunday night buzz, plus Marty sweating.
    They entered the membership office and Brandon stopped short. “How may I help you?” His eyes widened when the two blond heads turned around to face him. Mirror images. Esme and Selma. A twin bad dream come to life.
    “We’re back,” one of the girls said, smiling wide.
    He turned to look at Marty and grimaced. “What are they doing here?” he asked in a voice deadly low.
    Marty pushed up the brim of his hat. “Not my doing. Guest cards. Must be Pen’s idea—?”
    “Brandon! We need your help. He won’t listen to us,” one twin exclaimed while the other poked Marty in the ribs.
    “Stop that.” His manager swung his arms. “Keep your hands to yourself. Do you understand me?”
    One girl pouted. “We didn’t mean anything by it.”
    Shit, this better not have anything to do with Pen’s previous texts. He exhaled sharply, silently cursing. “Let me see those guest cards.”
    “See? We told you he was okay with us being here. Tell him, Brandon.” The twins took two hurried steps toward him.
    He pushed his hands out in front of him as though he was stopping a charging bull. “No. That isn’t what I said. I haven’t