Page 9 of Restored

Kit eyed the man curiously. Jake Sharp had been singling him out for attention for some weeks now. Powerful and feared as he was, he didn’t even bother to hide his preference for men. Sharp knew one of the prostitutes who worked in Redford’s and had told him that he very much fancied a tumble with Kit—much to the amusement of Kit’s employees at the club, who teased him relentlessly about it. But though Kit laughed easily whenever the subject was raised, he suspected Sharp's supposed interest was not really in Kit himself—or at least, not only in him.

Kit tilted his head to the side, considering Sharp. “Tell me this, Mr. Sharp. Why were you waiting for me out here?” he said. “I’ll wager it wasn’t to pay me compliments about my eyes.”

Sharp chuckled at that. “Why not? They’re lovely.”

Kit shook his head. “Shall I tell you what I think?”

“By all means,” Sharp invited, smiling delightedly.

“I think you’d like to acquire Redford’s. Is that a fair guess?”

Sharp’s expression was unreadable. After a moment, he said, “Well… if you were minded to sell, I would certainly be interested in discussing the matter.”

Kit nodded. “Thank you for telling me. However, I have to advise you that I have no wish to sell.”

That wasn’t quite true. Kit was not, in fact, entirely averse to the idea of selling Redford’s at some point. However, the timing had to be right, as did the purchaser. Kit had attracted an enviable list of members over the years, all of whom paid considerable annual fees, thanks to his reputation for complete discretion and trustworthiness.

The list was worth a fortune. All those names. All those secrets.

Kit could not hand that list over to just anyone. He may have opened the club with a view to making money, but that didn’t mean he had no scruples—he would not betray the trust that had been placed in him by his patrons.

Until he found an equally discreet and trustworthy successor, he would not be selling Redford’s. And based on what he knew of Jake Sharp—admittedly not a great deal—he did not think Sharp was that person.

Kit turned to go, but Sharp reached out, detaining him with a hand on his arm. His gaze was reproachful. “It’s not very polite to be deliberately misleading, Kitten.”

Despite Sharp’s mild tone, a shiver went up Kit’s spine. He hid his unease behind a tight smile. “As flattering as it is to be compared to a kitten,” he said sweetly, “I feel bound to point out that I am one-and-forty—far too old to be compared to an infant cat.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Then we shall have to agree to disagree, Mr. Sharp.”

Sharp sighed. “I wish you’d call me Jake.”

“And I wish you’d call me Mr. Redford,” Kit replied, “but we can’t always get what we want, can we?”

Sharp laughed then, and for a moment he really was handsome, his teeth seeming very white against his olive skin, and his light-brown eyes sparkling with humour.

“Have supper with me tonight,” he demanded, his gaze fixed on Kit.

Kit shook his head. “I’m afraid I will be dining early at home this evening, then returning to the club till the early hours.”

“I’ll come here then,” Sharp replied, undeterred.

“Regrettably,” Kit said smoothly, “you are not a member of Redford’s. So I will be unable to admit you.”

Sharp chuckled. “Oh, come on, Kitten. You could give me a membership right now.”

“I’m afraid not,” Kit replied. “The rules of the club require at least two references from existing members—”

“But youownit,” Sharp interrupted, though thankfully he seemed amused rather than offended. “You can do as you please, surely.”

“Not so,” Kit said implacably. “If I do not obey the rules, how can I ask others to do so?”

Sharp eyed him for a moment. Then he gave a rueful shrug. “Very well. I will just have to obtain the references, I suppose.”

“I’m afraid so,” Kit said smoothly, even as he wondered how many of his own patrons would be prepared to give the man a reference in return for writing off some gaming debts.

“Until then,” Sharp went on. “How about you join me for supper another evening. Tomorrow? Friday?”