Stripped Down (4 page)

She shrugged, the movement jerky. “You’ve got to make a living.”

Guilt speared through him, shame hot on its heels. This wasn’t who he was. He wasn’t a user, a seducer for personal purpose or private payout. His fingers hovered over her chest.

“Have mercy on me,” she said, blinking up at him with exaggeratedly wide eyes. “Finish your search-and-recover mission so I can go stick my head in the freezer.”

“Hot?”

She rolled her shoulders. “I keep telling myself this is your job, but there’s still the matter of your fingers on my skin, you know?”

He squashed the urge to stroke her hair. She was right. This, all of this, was about making a living—so why did it feel different? “True enough.” Finger-walking his way into her cleavage, he pulled out a twenty. He doubted she’d gotten into the act and tucked the money away herself, particularly between her breasts. “Whom do I thank for their generosity?”

As if she’d read his mind, she winced. “Gwen’s payback for me losing the key.”

He laughed. “I like Gwen.”

She scowled up at him, her heart clearly not in it. “I wasn’t supposed to be part of the show.”

“Roll with it, baby. It’s all in good fun.” He gently chucked her under the chin before facing the room, needing a little distance. “Unless you ladies are more dirty-minded than I am, and I seriously doubt that, I’ve found all the prizes. I’d trade a kiss for a bottle of water.”

Several women scrambled for the wet bar.

“Just one,” he called after them. On a deep breath, he faced Cass and held up the key. “You were a great sport.”

She shrugged. “It wasn’t exactly a hardship.”

Heat burned his cheeks, and he was both embarrassed and charmed by his reaction. The shy woman from the group was the first to make it back to him with a bottle of water, and he accepted it, this time brushing a soft kiss over her lips. “Thanks, beautiful.”

A strange expression passed over Cass’s face, one that said Eric had just done something profound. Hell if he knew what it was beyond kindness. Then Cass was gone, making excuses about checking on food and drinks, ensuring guest comfort and anything else she could toss out in a rush.

He watched her move through the crowd, absently rubbing her cuff-free wrist. Gwen bounded over to her and the two exchanged a few words and a quick hug before the bride became the center of attention once again. Gwen shot him bright-eyed looks when she thought he wasn’t paying attention, and those looks unnerved him. Clearly, Gwen was up to something. For all that the woman feigned innocence, he’d bet the entire evening’s take she had a devious streak.

Grabbing a pair of Elmo sleep pants from his briefcase, he slipped into them and padded around the room, flirting, picking up empty glasses and refilling others.

“You don’t have to do that.”

He glanced over his shoulder to find Cass closing in on him. “What? Pick up?”

“That, and serve.”

“Habit.” He shrugged. “I’ve got another half an hour before my time’s up. I can dance if you’d prefer.” And didn’t that offer have to claw its way out of his chest? He wanted her to see him as more than a stripper, wanted to tell her he was busting his ass to be more than this, but the words wouldn’t come.

She shrugged. “It’s cool. Just realize I don’t expect you to do anything like that.”

“You hired me.”

The discomfort on her face made him want to apologize. In fact, he started to, but she interrupted. “You’re right. I just feel a little awkward treating you like...” She stared at her feet as she chewed on her bottom lip.

“Like a side of delectable beef?”

She huffed out a breath. “I suppose.”

The familiar white lie slipped out before he could stop himself. “I’m okay with this, Cass. If I wasn’t, I couldn’t do what I do.”

Gwen bounded up, beer in hand. “I want to go to Cinderblock and dance.” She glanced between them and smiled. “They’re open until two, so we’ve got a couple of hours to get our groove on.”

“Sure,” Cass answered absently, shifting her attention to Gwen. “We can wrap up here and be at the club in under thirty.”

The bride shifted innocent eyes on him. “Want to come, Dalton?”

He opened his mouth to politely decline.

Gwen interrupted. “Don’t say no. Please?”

“Cass?” Asking her seemed right, because if he went, he’d be off the clock and on his own, and this time he was going to dance
with
her, not
for
her. He would touch her body. And chances were good he’d stop thinking altogether and simply let things go where they would. “Would you be comfortable with me tagging along?”

She looked at him, those blue eyes nearly bottomless. “I’d love to have you...” Her breath caught and her eyes widened. “Join us! I’d love to have you join us.”

The strange connection he’d felt earlier sparked, an electric live wire running between them. He didn’t,
couldn’t,
drag his eyes away when he answered. “Give me an extra half hour to run home and grab some decent clubbing clothes. They’re not a tie-required kind of place, but I’m pretty sure pants aren’t optional.”

Cass’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times, yet nothing came out.

Gwen slipped an arm around her waist and addressed Eric. “See you there.”

And that, as the saying went, was that.

* * *

C
ASS MOVED ON AUTOPILOT
as she rounded up the large party, gave them the address for the club and made sure everyone with keys was sober. As the last of the women left the apartment, Cass raced to her closet, grabbed her favorite little black dress and slipped it on. She swiped on some extra mascara and dabbed on perfume. Then she pulled out the man-killing red lipstick. It was her favorite accessory when she wanted to feel powerful, but she rarely wore it. More often than not it suited her just fine to be part of the scenery rather than the focal point. Not that she was a wallflower. Far from it. She just got so tired of men passing judgment based on her appearance and totally discounting her brain. Lipstick poised at her lips, she hesitated.

“What are you doing?” she asked her reflection. “Nothing can happen between you. You know it. What he is could ruin you.”

“You coming, Cass?” Gwen stepped into the master bathroom. “Oh, hey. The red lipstick. My Spidey Sense told me you were into Dalton.”

“I just...” She shook her head. “It’s so stupid.”

“Why?” Gwen moved to stand beside her, slipping an arm around Cass’s waist. “How long has it been since you had a little fun?
Serious
fun—the kind that’s slightly reckless and totally irresponsible.”

Cass studied her best friend’s reflection in the mirror as she thought, really thought, about the question. “I don’t remember.” The answer depressed her. She closed her eyes and sagged against the counter.

“That’s what I figured,” Gwen said on barely a whisper. “You’ve turned into the person we swore we’d never become, the one who loses her life to the job, becomes the job, is only the job.” Reaching up, she gently unpinned Cass’s hair and ran her fingers through the unruly waves as the mass tumbled free. “Live a little. Dance with Dalton tonight.”

“He’s a stripper.”

“You could’ve been a stripper.”

Cass’s eyes flashed open. “What?” she choked.

“You’re gorgeous. It’s one of the things you hide behind, using your looks like a shield to keep people at bay.” Gwen rubbed her arm briskly. “It’s one of the reasons you have your nickname.”

“I’m
not
an Ice Princess.” The words were hard, but damn it, she hated being called frigid.

“Prove it.” Gwen squeezed Cass’s hand then let go, staring at their side-by-side reflections. “Bring the lipstick or don’t, but we’re going.”

“He’s not going to show up.”

Gwen snorted and shook her head. “We talked about this, Negative Nancy.”

“Let me change—”

“No.”

The single word was hard and uncompromising. Cass looked up, surprise pushing her eyebrows up her forehead. “No?”

“You put on what made you feel pretty, seductive and desirable. It stays. Let’s go.” Gwen spun and started out of the bathroom.

Cass pushed off the vanity and raced past Gwen. “I’ll hurry!” She grabbed skinny jeans and a short white top. Stripping quickly, she pulled the shirt on and hopped on first one leg and then the other as she worked herself into the jeans. She shoved her feet into the first pair of stilettos she could reach. “Ready,” she shouted.

“Lipstick?”

Cass paused and gazed at the tube she’d tossed on her bed. “What the hell,” she muttered before calling out to Gwen, “I’ll put it on in the car.”

Grabbing the lipstick, she stalked from the room, a little extra sway to her hips.

* * *

T
HE CLUB WASN’T QUITE
as crowded as normal, probably due to the weather. That was fine with Cass. It meant she had more room to move. Gwen had been right. Dancing was exactly what Cass had needed.

Five or six songs into the evening, she finally stopped watching the door for Dalton. Disappointment that he hadn’t shown proved a bitter pill.

Gwen had hit her where it hurt when she’d pointed out Cass was turning into the person they’d sworn to each other they’d never become. Becoming that woman, the one who was so focused on her career she forgot how to live, terrified her. It made her that much more of her father’s daughter, and that was a connection she wanted to sever regardless of the cost. She’d admittedly swung the emotional pendulum toward the opposite extreme when she’d decided to hit on Dalton, but it would have been fun.

Weaving through the crowd, she reached the bar without much hassle.

The bartender, an attractive guy with obvious Nordic heritage, leaned toward her. “What can I get you, beautiful?”

“Michelob Light in the bottle.”

“A simple beer girl. You may have just stolen my heart.”

“Simple? Never. Stolen your heart?” Cass shrugged with easy nonchalance. “Like a thief in the night, baby.”

The bartender slid the beer across the deep bar. “On the house for the thief, then.”

Several bills landed beside the beer. “I’ve got her covered.”

Cass rolled her eyes and started to tell the stranger to shop somewhere else, but he leaned in and his breath whispered hot through her hair. “Sorry I’m late.”

Her heart stuttered before picking up a hard, tattooing rhythm. Lifting her beer and taking a long draw, she was half amused and half irritated to find that her hand was shaking.

The bartender watched them, clearly assessing the man at her back. “I’m under the impression the lady doesn’t need someone to buy her drinks.”

“It’s not a matter of need, buddy. Tonight’s all about want. But if she doesn’t want me to buy her a drink, I trust she’ll say so.”

The physical presence behind her retreated a step.

“I appreciate the generosity,” she interjected, moving into that hard, hot body and pressing against him.

The bartender shrugged and moved on to the next order with an easy smile.

Turning, she looked up into stormy green eyes. “Thanks.”

“You seem to have a champion.” Dalton’s tone was cool. “You know him?”

“Nope. I imagine he’s just being courteous.” She took another sip of her beer. “You want something to drink?”

Dalton wrapped his hand around hers and lifted the bottle to his lips, taking a long, slow draw.

She couldn’t help but stare at the way his throat worked as he swallowed. Images of his head thrown back, lips parted, shoulders bunched, the muscles and tendons in his neck straining flashed like Polaroid shots, each drifting to the floor of her mind to lie in a suggestive pile. Desire-fueled embarrassment burned up the back of her neck as she mentally undressed him where he stood.

“Dalton!” Gwen wiggled her way to his side and slid an arm around his waist.

He casually draped an arm over her shoulder and released Cass’s beer. “And how’s my favorite bride tonight?”

Said bride preened a little. “Better, now that you’re here. We’re under full-frontal attack from the natives.”

“Hmm. I’m more a rear-approach kind of guy.”

Cass choked on her beer. Ignoring Gwen’s waggling eyebrows, she wheezed and gasped, eyes watering.

Gwen absently waved a hand in her direction. “Don’t pay any attention to her. She likes sex but has to warm up before she gives good innuendo.”

Her mouth fell open. “Warm... I don’t... Up...”

Gwen tipped her chin to bat her eyes at Dalton. “Want to dance?”

Tapping the tip of her nose, he gave a single nod. “That’s what I came for.”

Sharp irritation cut through Cass as the two wordlessly abandoned her for the dance floor. What the hell was wrong with her? She was normally so smooth and in control of situations involving men, situations like
this.
She’d teased and flirted with the bartender without thinking about it. With Dalton? She was one short step from needing behavioral anti-seizure medication. Embarrassed, she stewed a bit and watched her best friend and...whatever he was get their groove on.

They moved together so easily, Dalton complementing Gwen’s every twist and turn. His hands slid over her in a casually suggestive manner. She followed his direction. They were good together, and Cass found herself scowling. An uncomfortable sensation she was entirely unwilling to consider burned behind her belly button. Wrapping her free arm around her waist, she fisted the hem of her shirt and continued to sip her drink as she fought to ignore what she feared was jealousy. She was
not
jealous.

“You’re looking a little fierce, beautiful.”

She glanced toward the owner of the voice.

The bartender stood behind her, a towel thrown over his shoulder.

Her attention drifted back to the dance floor, and she rolled her head from side to side. “The night isn’t going the way I planned.”

“It goes against every fiber of my being, but if you want to make him sit up and take notice, I’ll help out.”

This time she faced him. “Every fiber of your being, huh?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Hands on his hips, he dropped his chin to his chest and closed his eyes. Then he took a deep breath and focused his light blue gaze on her. “Let’s go.” He tossed his towel on the bar, grabbed her hand and hauled her toward the dance floor. Waving at the DJ booth, he gave a signal and received a nod in return. “My name’s Todd, and you’re going to owe me a drink.”