“Then just work here,” he said again. She shook her head.

“No. I'm not doing that,” she replied. He rolled his eyes.

“You know what? Fine. I'll pay you. For every day you miss out on a job because of me, I'll fucking pay you for it,” Jameson snapped out. Her eyebrows shot up.

“You'd pay me, to miss work, just so you could hang out with me and potentially have sex with me?” she clarified. He nodded.

“Definitely have sex, and yes, If that's what it takes.”

“That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard. You're gorgeous and rich – you could probably find women who would pay you to have sex with them,” Tate pointed out. He finally smiled again.

“Gorgeous, huh. Flattery will get you nowhere with me. And I make more than enough money, I don't want to get paid to have sex,” he replied.

“But you don't mind paying for it?”

“Not at all.”

“You don't find that strange? Paying someone for sex?”

“I find it exciting.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

“But if I let you pay me, and we have sex, that would make me a whore,” she laid out the points bluntly. He shrugged.

“Do you really have a problem with that?” Jameson asked.

Tate had walked some fine lines in her adult life, done some things she wasn't 100% proud of, but she had never turned tricks. She liked sex, liked to use it as a weapon sometimes, but never to get paid. One time, when she was around twenty-one, she and some friends had been hard up for a good time. She wound up blowing a guy for some coke, and she'd felt guilty about it for days.

Was it still a game, or was it just being a whore? Fine lines were so hard to see. She was scared of what would happen to her if she stepped over that line. How far down the rabbit hole was she willing to fall?

“I'm not sure. I think I do. I'm not some prostitute. You can't just pay me, and then I have to fuck you whenever you snap your fingers, or blow all your friends in a circle jerk,” she told him. He laughed.

“Well, I don't normally attend circle jerks, so you should be fine on that point, and I wouldn't even have to pay you, and you'd still fuck me whenever I snapped my fingers,” he countered.

One point, Jameson Kane.

“Two thousand dollars,” she blurted out.

“Excuse me?”

“I quit all my other jobs – except for the bar. That means all my days will be free, I'll be 'available to you' virtually every single day. My salary for that is two thousand dollars, a week,” Tate informed him. He narrowed his eyes.

“Five hundred dollars,” he counter offered. She shook her head.

“Don't insult me, Kane.”

“One thousand.”

“Call me when you want to play for real,” she started to walk away. He grabbed her arm.

“One and a half,” he offered, an evil smile tugging at the corner of his lips. She gave the sweetest smile she could manage back to him.

“Two and a half,” she amended her original price. His smile spread to the rest of his mouth.

“Deal.”

“I'm not some street corner whore, either. I'm getting paid to be available to you – not spread my legs whenever you're in the mood. You had better respect that, or I'm gonna Taser you in the balls,” Tate warned him.

“Kinky.”

“I'm fucking serious.”

“I would never force you to do something, if you really didn't want to do it. But, you can't be a tease. I think you're hot, Tate. I can remember how hot you were, and when I decide it's time for us to sleep together, you better not pull some bullshit and try to stop it from happening,” Jameson told her.

He's going to decide when it's time?

She smirked at him. He really didn't know her at all. She stepped up close to him, pressing her entire body against his front. She ran her hands over his chest and was pleased to feel solid muscle underneath his shirt. Of course, his frame had looked good under his expensive suit, and she remembered him having a good body seven years ago, but it was nice to have it confirmed. She moved her hands under his jacket, and around to his back. She purred low in her throat and rubbed herself against him, leaning in to place a long lick against his throat.

“Do I seem like a tease?” she asked, her voice husky.

She felt his hand work its way in to her hair, and then he was jerking back, hard, forcing her to look straight up at him. She didn't make a sound, refused to let him see any kind of surprise or fear or want on her face. Just looked at him with hooded eyes as he held her head in place. He looked almost angry. She had gotten to him, ruffled him a little.

Point to me.

“You look like a girl who doesn't know she's playing with fire.”

“You're a sucker, you know,” Tate laughed, shaking herself away from him. He let go of her hair. “I could be horrible in bed – I could just be blowing smoke up your ass. Or maybe I'm too kinky for you, who knows. How do you feel about inflatable sheep?”

“They pop too easily,” Jameson responded. She burst out laughing.

“You know, Kane, we might just get along,” she snickered.

“I was thinking that myself. Maybe buddies is the right word. We should have been friends a long time ago,” he said. She nodded.

“Maybe. But if things hadn't happened the way they did, I wouldn't be this person. You wouldn't want to be my friend,” Tate pointed out.