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Jack nodded his thanks and slipped the man a pound note.
    Jack didn’t smoke himself, but he liked the smell of it, especially a good pipe tobacco. His grandfather had smoked a pipe and the scent always reminded him of the old bastard—and of a time when Jack thought of him with more kindness than he did now.
    There was a decent-sized bookcase built into the wall with a selection of novels and more “intellectual” reading, also a table with copies of the day’s newspapers neatlyfolded on its glossy top. There were a few knickknacks on the shelves and tables, but not a one had a feminine edge to it. There weren’t even flowers. Jack had never been to a female establishment were there wasn’t at least a picture of flowers if not an entire bouquet. Chez Cherie’s might be a house of women, but it had been designed with men in mind. Perhaps that was the secret to its success. It was basically a gentleman’s club that offered sexual fulfillment while others could only offer beefsteak.
    Jack seated himself in one of the wing-backs, the soft leather accepting his form with a sigh before curving around him. Very comfortable, and he’d had just enough to drink that he could easily fall asleep—all that was missing was a small fire in the hearth.
    He consulted his watch. He still had a quarter hour before his client was due to arrive. He had to do something to keep himself awake.
    He moved to pick up one of the papers when the man sitting to his left spoke. “Haven’t seen you here before.”
    Jack turned toward the low voice. Staring at him disinterestedly was a man with dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and a blade of a nose. Very English, he thought. And very much in a foul temper. That alone would either make them fast friends or faster foes.
    “First time,” Jack replied.
    His companion nodded and raised a glass of what appeared to be scotch. “Thought so. You have that expectant look about you.”
    He did? Jack wasn’t sure how to take that, so he dismissed it. There was something familiar about this bloke that made it difficult for him to take offense. He may as well play along. At least it would keep him awake. “That obvious, eh?”
    A shrug. “Probably not, but I’ve nothing better to do than stare at other men until the ladies come out to play.” He frowned. “I’m not sure that sounded quite the way I intended.”
    He looked so bemused that Jack couldn’t help but grin. A waiter came by and asked if he would like a drink. He gestured at his companion. “What he’s having.” Then, turning his attention back to the stranger, he asked, “Will the girls come out soon?”
    “Any moment. They’re very prompt for females.” His head rested against the edge of the chair back as he studied Jack. “I think you’re here for the same reason I am.”
    Jack’s smile twisted with a hint of wry. “Aren’t we all here for the same reason?” Regardless of the terms, it was all business, right?
    The man gave his head a shake. “We’re all here to get our cocks wet to be sure, but that’s not the real reason I’m here, and it’s not the reason you’re here.”
    Amused, Jack looked up long enough to thank the waiter who brought his drink—it was indeed scotch—before saying, “Enlighten me.”
    His companion shot him a sharp look—one smart-arse recognizing another and not impressed. “You’re here because some bird dealt your pride a blow and now you need a fancy piece to make you feel like a man again.”
    Jack’s mouth opened, poised to argue, but the bloke was right to an extent. Seeing Sadie had left him unsettled, and if this wasn’t a business meeting he might very well look to reaffirm his manhood. After all, he’d missed out on the charms of Lady Gosling. “That’s why you’re here as well?”
    “Yes, sir,” his companion admitted without an ounce of shame. “Thought I’d found the woman of m’dreams, but she just wants to get her stepdaughter married off and then run away to see