Free Jaded by Karin Tabke Page B

just—observe.”
    “As I said, it’s private.”
    “Just show me where, I won’t disturb the occupants.”
    Grudgingly, the man strode through the main dining room and into a second atrium dining room, then turned down a short hallway that led to a wide arched entryway with a fountain in the middle like a courtyard. Surrounding the courtyard were four doors with hand-painted roses on them, each a different shade of red. “The couple you speak of is in the rojo dining room.”
    Jase glance up, and in the alcove above was a small balcony. “How do I get up there?”
    The maître d’ scowled and gave him directions.
    Situating himself up in the alcove on a stool, Jase could see straight down into the courtyard, a perfect view without being seen.
    He noted the time, 10:30 p.m., and sat back to wait. It wasn’t long before Jade came out of the room. If he wasn’t mistaken she looked a little—disheveled. He scowled at the implication. Looked liked the gent was getting his money’s worth.
     
     
    Jade hurried to the ladies’ room, ignoring the elderly attendant, who stood when she entered. She stared at her smudged lipstick, and in an angry gesture she swiped the remaining color off, smearing it across her cheek, leaving a red wake.
    Angrily, she washed her hands and took a cloth towel from the attendant, then worked on her cheek to remove the red slash. Opening her purse, she quickly got to the repairs. As she put a final touch to her lips, Jade stopped her movement.
    In the space of twenty-four hours her house of cards had begun to crumble around her. Townsend was dead, that cop who disturbed her on a very primal level shows up at her doorstep, Otis Thibodeaux’s rude assumptions, and now Mr. Hiro wanted to call her hand. A call she was blindsided by. For three years the man had not touched her; tonight he couldn’t keep his hands off her. She almost lost it when he unzipped his pants and set his small but burgeoning penis against her thigh, covering her mouth and forcing her hand to grasp him. It was the first time in eleven years she had touched a man like that. And the revulsion of doing so made her realize she hadn’t missed a thing.
    Her stomach rolled and she fought the urge to vomit in the brass sink.
    “Señorita?” the ancient attendant said.
    Jade glanced at the old woman’s serene stare and smiled, and then looked back into the mirror. It didn’t lie. Her haunted face stared back.
    “Estoy bien, gracias.” She took the cool damp cloth the woman held out to her and pressed it against her cheeks. She wanted to go home, to get into her favorite pair of flannel PJs, and sleep for a week. Instead, she straightened her shoulders, dug for a few bills in her purse, and handed them to the attendant, then stalked out of the restroom.
    Giving her dress a final readjustment before she entered the room, Jade looked up. The balcony used to seclude the musicians was empty, except—she narrowed her eyes—for the shadow of a man sitting quietly in the background. Probably management keeping an eye on the private rooms. Exhaling a deep breath, Jade stepped into the private dining room.
    As she entered the room, Jade halted midstep, closing the door quickly behind her. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Lying naked and spread-eagle on the linen tabletop among the margaritas and their camarones cocktail was Katsuo Hiro. His four-inch penis pointed to the ceiling.
    She’d seen worse. “Mr. Hiro, I’m afraid I’m not as hungry as I thought. I’d like to return to the club.”
    His dark eyes glittered, not in malice but mischief. He really was quite harmless. “Play geisha with me.”
    Slowly, she shook her head and as one would speak to a child, she said, “I told you, no more geisha.”
    Katsuo rolled over to his side and stroked himself, his eyes closed for a moment. Then he hissed in a breath, piercing her with a hard gaze. “I am not partial to begging for sex, Jade.” He snapped his fingers and