Tease Me (14 page)

“Make sure he’s a decent guy, I mean?”

“Excuse me?”

“Any guy would be happy to be with you—believe me—but don’t just—”

“Screw the first guy I meet? Like I did with you? Is that what you’re saying?” She sounded pissed and amused at the same time.

“You know what I mean. You’re not the kind of woman who sleeps around. You need a solid citizen. A guy with a regular nine-to-five and a future.”

“I know what I want, Jackson. I can pick my own lovers, thank you.”

Something about that bothered him, so he said something stupid. “I just don’t want you getting into trouble on my watch.”

“On your…what?” She dropped the hank of hair she’d been trimming and it fell in his eyes. “I’ve already got two worrywart brothers. I don’t need a third.” She yanked up the comb full of hair, jerking his head up.

“Ow.”

“Sorry.” Snip, snip, whack, yank. No more slow tugs or sexy
snnnnick, snnnnicks
. Now she was doing a time trial of a haircut. She was pissed.

He’d done it again—said the wrong thing.

In the nick of time.

F
IVE DAYS LATER
, Heidi sat with Jackson and watched Jasmine, Nevada and Autumn work through the new routines for “Let Us Entertain You,” which was what they’d named their revue. Duke was due in a couple of hours to “check out this burlesque business,” so the girls were desperate to put on a good performance.

They were doing a seven-veils dance, using practice scarves until Jasmine finished the actual costumes, and Heidi thought the moves were genius—erotic, athletic and
dreamlike. “This is so much better than the usual routines,” she said to Jackson. “It’s sexy, not vulgar. Women customers will love it.” They hadn’t stopped talking about the project since the hot-oil treatment, cinnamon-bread incident.

Jackson just grinned.

The band was improvising a Middle Eastern sound with a heavy calypso rhythm. “And the music is incredible. You really came through, Jax.” Heather sang scat, high and haunting. “And Heather’s amazing.”

“I still can’t believe her reaction to singing in a strip club. She thinks it’s
trippy,
can you believe that?” He shook his head, still smiling.

“The drummer’s great. I know you had to do some fast talking to get him.”

“He’s pretty laid-back, but we’ll see how it works out.”

“They sound great together, Jackson.”

“Yeah.” He sighed contentedly. He’d been livelier and chattier than she’d ever seen him, making her even more proud she’d pushed him to do this.

“Hold it!” Nevada barked at Autumn and Jasmine, who stopped, grateful it seemed for a breather, since Nevada had been working them hard. “
Legato
on the keyboard,” Nevada said to the musicians, “but keep the drums big. More bells, too.” She sounded so sure of what she was saying that no one questioned her, not even the exhausted dancers.

“You go, girl,” Heidi whispered.

Jackson snorted. “I’ve never seen Nevada this…”

“Alive? Driven?”

“No. Bitchy. She’ll hit her stride, I hope. Right now she’s fired up and freaked.”

“This is what she always wanted to do, so of course she’s enthusiastic.”

“I’m surprised that Jasmine and Autumn are taking it without backtalk. They’re never this—”

“Responsible? Dedicated?”

“No. Wimpy. But that, too.” He gave another happy sigh.

“You know what we are, Jackson, you and me? Impresarios.”

“Is it contagious? Or illegal?”

“We’re entertainment producers. I’m proud of us.”

“It’s all you, Heidi. You started this. And it’s all good.”

His smile lit his eyes with pride. Working on the project together had been fun. She felt surprisingly close to him and they hadn’t slipped and had sex once. Darn it. “Duke won’t shut them down, will he?” she asked, her next worry.

“Not if we present it right. Relax.” He patted her knee. The simple gesture of assurance warmed her entire leg.

She was slow to look away and he was slow to notice.

The dancers moved on to the next number, “Dance of the Phoenix,” based on the myth of the bird rising from the ashes. All three had fairly complex moves, including cartwheels and splits and a three-person flip.

They were deep into the song when the outside door opened. Sunlight flared, turning the velvet illusion of the bar into a sad gray until the door closed again.

“Shit. Duke’s early,” Jackson said, and they watched him head their way carrying stapled papers. He didn’t look happy.

Heidi’s stomach knotted.

“Let me do the talking,” Jackson said, leaning close to her ear, almost overriding her nervousness with the pleasure of his nearness.

Duke sat in the chair to Jackson’s left and shoved the papers across the table at him. “What’s with all the cash to Wilson Construction?”

“Minor stuff. Stalls for the johns, new electrical. Gotta be done. For safety reasons.”

“I approve all expenditures.” Duke’s jaw tensed.

“Right. And I hire all staff,” Jackson said, not backing down. “What’s with the new bartender?”

“Dupree’s a friend of my nephew’s. Stan vouches for him.”

“I won’t manage a place with people I don’t trust.”

“Dupree’s got experience.”

“I’ll bet.”

“He’ll be no problem and Taylor could use the help.”

“We’ll see.”

“I’m serious about okaying expenditures,” Duke said.

“Then I guess I should tell you I hired a crew to haul out the furniture from the back room and sell it.”

“You did what?”

“Relax,” Jackson said in a low voice that seemed to soothe Duke. “We get a percentage. Should be enough to cover the cupboards I want to build.”

“You want to build cupboards? Hang on now—”

“For storage. We’ll use the space as a break room and for supplies. The girls need a dressing room to themselves.”

“What are you doing, Jax?”

“The right thing. Selling the furniture should cover the prefab stuff I’ll buy. So no net expense.”

The two men eyed each other, while Duke’s ruffled feathers settled. She admired Jackson for sticking to his guns and presenting the girls’ demands so matter-of-factly, like a done deal, despite his own doubts about them.

“I know what you want,” Jackson soothed. “It’s all fine.”

Duke held his gaze for a second, then seemed to slump into the chair, as if arguing was too much trouble. “Every
body knows what I want these days. Stan thinks I should open a combo bar-Laundromat. Suds and Duds, something stupid like that. He thinks I’m made of money and his friends scare the hell out of me.” He turned to the stage, taking in the dancers. “So why are they prancing around with clothes on?”

“They’ll have costumes for the show,” Heidi said, irritated by his dismissive tone. “This is just a rehearsal—a taste of what’s to come.”

“Costumes? Who’s paying for that? And nobody said anything about live music.” He eyed the band, frowning.

“Jasmine’s making the costumes,” Jackson said in his calm-down voice, “and the band’s working free. If the show flies, we give ’em a percentage of the door.”

“Looks to me like you’ve got the inmates running the asylum.”

“The inmates?” Heidi said. She opened her mouth, prepared to object, but Jackson grabbed her knee, stilling her.

“What Duke means is why mess with success?”

Duke nodded. “Men come here to see women as naked as we can get ’em. If they want a show, they go to Vegas.” He seemed caught by the dancers’ moves, though. Impressed in spite of himself.

“That’s the idea,” Heidi said. “This will be a taste of Vegas right here in Phoenix. We’ll draw new customers. Couples, not just men. More liquor sales, more cover charges.”

“Yeah?” He turned to her, half-smiling, as if he were amused by her interest.

“Especially if we advertise. Tell him, Jackson.”

“I thought we’d use the
New Times
ad to promote the show.”

“I’m not throwing money at this.”

“The ad’s already in the budget,” Jackson said. “We just
use a photo of the revue, add a couple lines of copy. Heidi will work up some publicity to go with it.”

“To reinforce the impact,” Heidi added.

Duke looked at her, then at Jackson, putting something together in his mind. He looked back at Jackson. “I don’t get this, but we go back a ways, Jax. So, one week’s ad, one weekend trial. If receipts drop, we’re done.” He winked at Heidi, then pushed wearily to his feet. “No outlay on the cupboards.”

“No problem.”

Shaking his head, Duke headed to the bar, papers in hand.

Jackson watched him go, then turned back to her, a wry smile on his face. “Duke thinks you’ve got me twisted around your little finger.”

“He does?”

“Don’t look so innocent. You know you do.”

That gave her a shiver of pleasure and a rush of power. “You mean I can have my way with you?” she teased.

“Be careful…I’m only human.” There was the familiar sizzle.

“I know…. Me, too.” She’d never had to exercise this much self-restraint in her life. It was worth it, though, she was pretty sure. Because now they were working together for the dancers’ sake. And it was helping Jackson, too. She was delighted to see his enthusiasm build, his energy return, focused on the music he loved, his dream. It wasn’t a radio station, but it was close.

For herself, she loved the sense of accomplishment she’d begun to feel. The dancers consulted with her on which dances to include in the revue, how long they should be, what order they should be in. She’d helped them work out a few personality snarls along the way, too.

At first, Nevada had been too rigid a taskmaster, Jasmine had been late to practice and brought Sabrina with her, and Autumn had been reluctant to invest extra time in something that might not pan out. Heidi had talked them through it. She’d babysat Sabrina, showed Autumn the math on the income and eased Nevada back a bit.

She’d worked up the ad, too, drafted news releases and now she would talk up the show with entertainment reporters. She’d consulted with Jackson through it all, coordinating practice sessions with his band. They were a good team. He calmed her when she got nervous and she boosted him when he had doubts.

Sometimes she wished they’d never slept together, so she wouldn’t have this terrible tension in her chest—and in her sex—whenever they were together. Other times she thought if they could just have sex again, they’d have everything either of them ever wanted. Which, of course, was completely crazy.

A
WEEK LATER
, Heidi sat in her salon chair waiting for the three dancers to arrive. Autumn was coming in for a haircut, Nevada for a touch-up to her extensions—though Heidi planned to talk her into a more elegant cut—and Jasmine was having her nails done. A second purpose was to show her their newly finished costumes.

Heidi tapped her fingers on the arms of the chair, catching the attention of Esmeralda, the nail technician, who frowned and rolled her chair close enough to capture Heidi’s hand. She studied her nails, then shook her head. “Dear Goddess of Light, look at these blobs of keratin. You are a disgrace to the beauty business.”

“Sorry,” she said. Tension had her chewing her cuticles lately and she kept her nails short for convenience.

“How about a free manicure? As a thank-you for all the new clients. I’ve never done so many specialty nails in my life.” Heidi had passed out Esmeralda’s cards at Moons and the dancers and waitresses were trickling into the shop.

“Nails get in my way and polish chips too easy.”

“Then let me read your palm.” Not only did Esmeralda do nails, but she also read fortunes. Her slogan was “Esmeralda knows hands…inside out.”

“I’ve got clients coming in now.” Heidi didn’t want to learn her life would be sad, her career goals unmet, her love life a web of mistakes. Even if she didn’t believe her future was etched into her palm, she didn’t want to take a chance on hearing bad news. Luckily, the bell jangled, signaling the dancers’ arrival.

Jasmine, Nevada and Autumn waltzed in, dressed in tight, short clothes and hooker heels, costumes in plastic over their arms. Everyone in the salon stared—Blythe’s client under the dryer, the one in the waiting area and the woman she was giving a weave. Even Blythe, serene in any storm and impossible to shock, stared, a foil square poised in her uplifted fingers.

“Costumes, Heidi!” Jasmine squealed, rushing forward. “Wait’ll you see.”

“You can change in there.” Heidi pointed toward the rest room, but the dancers tossed the plastic-shrouded items onto spare dryer chairs and began whipping off clothes.

In seconds, each had donned a different costume. Autumn wore a white see-through, boa-trimmed robe over a transparent orange blouse and thin, flame-colored skirt. Jasmine had on a harem outfit with numerous glittering veils and Nevada wore a body stocking with small, white balloons representing bubbles from a bubble bath.

“Wow,” Heidi said. “How perfect.”

“And they fit the choreography to a T,” Autumn said. “Show her, Nevada.”

Nevada leaned down and snatched a veil from the hip of Jasmine’s harem costume with her teeth.

“Easy to remove with teeth or toes.” Autumn demonstrated, flexing her big toe at Jasmine’s navel to whip away another veil. She spun, did a backbend and bit off another veil.

The watching customers exclaimed in delight. “Oh, sugar, do that again,” the woman under the dryer said.

Heidi’s cell phone rang as the dancers repeated the move. Frowning, she answered it.

“Heidi? It’s Mike.”

“Mike? Oh, hi!” She’d had only fleeting conversations with her brothers since she’d sent back the money and some of their gifts. There was so much her brothers didn’t know about her life she hardly knew what to talk about. Plus, she’d been so busy helping with the show, she hadn’t had much time. “Can I call you back? I’ve got clients right now.”

“How are you, bunny? Really?”

“I’m fine. Really.”

“Are you still getting along with your roommate?”

“Absolutely.”
If only we hadn’t had sex
. But Mike meant Tina, of course, not Jackson. Sheesh.

“She travels so much. Aren’t you lonely?”