Page 16 of Delicious Surrender
Gage smirked and cleared his throat. “When did you last tend bar?”
“Throughout college. I worked the bar on weeknights and waitressed on weekends.” She felt like a specimen under amicroscope.Just breathe, Brynne.
“You think you can create a cocktail especially for my club?”
That was unexpected. “Sure.” Brynne scanned the bottles on the shelves behind him, noting his expensive taste in scotch. “I’d use an old-fashioned glass with a ball of ice, add three ounces of Macallan twelve-year, one ounce of amaretto, and a splash of orange bitters. And I would garnish it with an orange peel.”
“Sounds interesting. And what would you call it?”
“Well, Smooth Operator is already taken.” She racked her brain, then an idea hit her. “How about The Devil’s Lash?”
“Cute,” he said, without a trace of humor. “Can you name the four whisky regions of Scotland?”
Was that a trick question? “I think you mean the five regions. Campbeltown, Highland, Islay, Lowland, and Speyside.” She looked to his sideboard and added, “Judging by your collection, you’re partial to Macallan single malts.”
His eyes narrowed. “You like scotch?”
“I like Glenmorangie Original, but to be honest, I’m more of a Hendricks and tonic girl.” She grinned. “Does that disqualify me?”
“No, but your cheekiness might.”
Her heart fluttered. “I’m sorry,” she said, then quickly added, “sir.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Did Garrick explain what impertinence might get you?”
Later, she would ask herself why she goaded him. With an impish smile, she said, “A sound spanking?”
He leaned back in his big leather chair and studied her. The silence was unnerving. Her little joke fell flatter than flat. Jared had drilled it into her head—she was supposed to be meek and mild. So far, she was batting zero.
“I’ll wager you will receive your fair share of spankings here. Are you a masochist?”
“What? No!” she said, suppressing the urge to giggle.
Gage made a notation on the page, and Brynne gripped the folder in her lap.
“There will be occasions when you’ll enter the private rooms to refresh ice and drinks while a scene is going on. You think you can handle that?”
“Yes, of course. But I thought there was no drinking when you do a scene?”
“That is true. Those taking part in the scene won’t be drinking, but the people watching can enjoy alcoholic beverages.”
She mouthed a soundless “Oh” as realization dawned. Club members could play or watch the spectacle, and if she was lucky, she would get to see all of it. She sat forward and spoke with conviction. “I promise to do my job well and give you no reason to find fault with me.”
“Hmm. That would be a pity,” he said, with a ghost of a smile.
Brynne’s eyes widened, and she shifted in her seat.
“Do you have the reference letter?”
She started at his abrupt tone and pulled the linen envelope out of the wrinkled portfolio. It bore a distinctive seal, with an ornate P in the middle of the blood-red wax. It was addressed to Master Gage, Club Dominus.
He took it and looked back at her, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “Mistress Patricia vouched for you?”
“Yes.” Brynne worried her bottom lip. “Is there a problem?”
“Not a problem, just a surprise.” He sliced the envelope open and took the letter out. “Why don’t you fetch your handbag while I read this?”
Brynne jumped at the chance to leave the room and compose herself. She hurried down the hall, berating herself. She needed to get a grip. While grabbing her purse, she saw the magazine on the floor and quickly set it back where she found it. After a few calming breaths, she walked back into the lion’s den.