My Double Life: Wild and Wicked (11 page)

“No?” She arched a brow, undressing him with her eyes. “Where will you be?”

“I’m going to be tied up with a brainy brunette—”

“Tied up, you say?” She leaned closer, breathing him in.

“A figure of speech.” He skimmed a finger along her knee under the table.

“Not if I make it a reality.”

The conference door swung wide without warning. Trey settled back in his chair slowly, but he noticed Courtney sprang from him like she’d been burned. Her cheeks were an even brighter pink than before.

The receptionist backed into the room, her attention focused on a silver tray with a teapot, teacups and bottles of water.

“Th-thank you, Star.” Courtney shuffled some papers on the table.

“Sure.” Star peered their way as she set the tray on a credenza against the far wall. “Sorry I didn’t get the refreshments here earlier.”

“No problem. Thanks,” Courtney repeated. Her hands shook slightly, the papers she held quivering with the motion.

Seized with the urge to cover her fingers with his, Trey was reminded of the awkward woman he’d first met in this room. Courtney’s confidence really had come a long way in a short time. What if he was depriving her of a chance to solidify that self-esteem by discouraging her from dancing at Backstage?

When her coworker departed, Courtney’s elbows hit the table, her shoulders slumping forward.

“Who am I kidding?” she asked herself more than him as she covered her eyes with her hands. “This is insane.”

“What is?” He leaned forward, too, gently tugging away one arm so he could see her better. “I’d say it’s insane that you’ve waited so long to claim your rightful place here. You have too much to offer to take a backseat.”

She pried open one eye, still hiding the other.

“I never stutter in front of Star. She must have known something was up.”

“She probably thought you were nervous during one of your first client meetings, which would only be natural.”

After a long moment, she nodded. “Maybe.”

“Would it really help you to dance again?” He didn’t want to deny her something that had been...therapeutic. Her pole-dancing half dressed in front of salivating guys might give him nightmares, but if it helped Courtney work out some of her anxieties, he could grit his teeth through one more performance.

He hoped.

“I don’t know.” Her voice was thin. Her face pale. “I definitely can’t afford to lose this job. You’re right about that much.”

“But you
want
to dance,” he clarified, trying to get to the heart of the matter.

She dropped her other arm and folded her hands on the table. Looking at him full-on, she said, “Only if you’re there.”

A bolt of heat shot through him at the thought. He might hate the idea of anyone else seeing her. But he couldn’t deny the appeal of Courtney performing for him alone.

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

11

B
EING
LESS
NERVOUS
apparently made me
more
nervous.

I realized this fundamental truth as I compulsively adjusted and readjusted the strap on the back of my domino mask while I sat at the mirrored makeup table in the Backstage dressing room.

Not many of the other dancers had arrived yet since I would be on stage first, but wigs, headdresses, hot rollers and hair dryers were strewn from one end of the room-length counter to the other. The bass line from a sultry soul song thumped through the floor and vibrated in my feet while one of the white lights surrounding my mirror flickered on and off with an electric buzz. The two girls that went on after me were circulating in the crowd, leaving me alone for now.

And somehow, feeling more confident earlier that evening had caused a weird mood tailspin. I began wondering why I wasn’t nervous, ultimately deciding I couldn’t do a good show unless I was completely overwrought, since that was how I’d gone out onto the stage the first time I’d performed in public.

So I went about the business of getting completely spun-up. Never a tough assignment for me. I just hoped Trey was out there in the crowd. Maybe seeing him would distract me from this mental muddle, the way it had last time.

Inside my makeup bag, I heard my cell phone buzz. I still had ten or fifteen minutes before my entrance, so I retrieved the incoming text. An update on some activity in the Asian markets, but nothing earth-shattering. To calm my nerves, I scrolled through the rest of my messages from the last couple of hours. An unidentified number caught my eye.

It was from Star. Strange, since she rarely texted me.

“The woman who taught dance moves at my bachelorette party is performing at Backstage tonight! I’m going with Lisa from HR to cheer her on if anyone wants to join us...”

Oh. Crap.

The message had been sent to...I scrolled back to the top...six other women besides me. Three of them worked at Sphere. Star must have gotten some kind of update that Natalie Night had a show this evening and decided to make it a girls’ night out. That message had been sent over an hour ago.

While I contended with a new wave of panic, my phone buzzed again.

“I’m by the bar! Where R U?”

It must be a text to the group. The kicker on this one? It had been sent by Fawn Barrows.

Natalie had told me this was a bad idea. Trey had discouraged me from doing this, too. Yet I had persisted and ultimately prevailed. And now I was going to go down in flames in spectacular fashion. That is, if my sweating palms didn’t cause me to slide off the pole and break my neck first. Actually, that would be preferable to being unmasked by Fawn Barrows, Ms. Perfect.

“Ms. Night?” The head bouncer stuck his head in the door without knocking, his usual M.O., I recalled. “Are you ready?”

My heart rate sped. Hyperventilation loomed as a distinct possibility. I nodded, since there was no way I’d be able to utter a coherent sentence.

What the hell had I been thinking to schedule this stupid dance appearance? I should have just been happy with the strides I’d made in my life instead of getting greedy. And let’s face it. Possibly I’d done this in some lame effort to make sure Trey remained interested in me. I didn’t want to examine that possibility. Maybe I’d never really believed that I deserved a guy like him.

“Ms. Night?” The bouncer frowned, stepping fully into the dressing area.

Shoving my cell phone back into my bag, I tucked my purse into a bin beneath the dressing table and headed toward the door. I wasn’t ready. But I couldn’t just sprint out of the club the way I wanted to. Natalie wouldn’t be invited to return as a performer in the fall if I did. And I had no one to blame for this but myself, so the least I could do was see it through to its natural—disastrous—conclusion.

* * *

“T
REY
F
RASER
?” T
HE
FEMININE
voice sounded vaguely familiar and Trey’s gut sank before he turned around to see who’d recognized him.

Courtney would be making her appearance any moment, and the last thing he wanted was to be engaged in a conversation that took his focus off her. He wanted to watch her for one thing. And he suspected she might need to see him—make eye contact—as soon as she came out here. Possibly he was overestimating his importance in all this. Yet his gut told him she might be more nervous about this appearance than she’d originally thought.

“Yes?” He turned as the lights dimmed and the music changed to a tune more appropriate for a burlesque show.

“It’s great to see you!” the slim blonde in a red sheath dress said. “Remember me? Fawn Barrows from Sphere Asset?”

Shit.

Trey hoped his face didn’t convey his feelings. His gut sank to his toes as Courtney was introduced as Natalie Night. He applauded automatically, his eyes still on Fawn.

“These are some friends from work.” She gestured vaguely to three women beside her. “We know the dancer and wanted to cheer her on.”

His mind raced. They knew the dancer? Who the hell did they think it was? Then he recalled the photo in Courtney’s office and put the pieces together. Courtney must have met her dance instructor the same time as these other women from her workplace. But while she’d kept up the dance lessons, the rest of them had forgotten all about Natalie Night. Until now.

Courtney was screwed if he couldn’t think of a way out of this.

A collective cry of alarm went up from the audience and he spun around in his seat to see what was going on.

Courtney wavered on unsteady feet, her hand awkwardly clenching the pole for a moment before she straightened. Had she slipped? Just then her eyes met his through the mask and she leaped gracefully up on the stage, winding sinuously around the steel support.

“What happened?” he asked a guy to his right holding a longneck and watching Courtney like a hawk.

“She stumbled before she got all the way up.” The guy rolled his eyes. “Although she seems to know how to handle a pole.” He gave a crude laugh.

Trey’s knuckles itched to connect with the dude’s jaw.

“So what are you doing here?” Fawn piped up from over his shoulder, her hand coming to rest on his elbow to get his attention.

“Watching the show.” He shifted away from her, although he did give a polite nod in her direction.

He wouldn’t be taking his eyes off Courtney again.

She’d attracted him the first time he’d watched her, commanding his attention with a mature sensuality that was rare in clubs like this, where most of the dancers lied about their ages. And tonight? Courtney mesmerized him. Now he understood what it cost her to give this performance. Understood the consequences if she failed. Dancing had given her something her speech issue—and possibly her mother—had robbed her of early in life. Seeing her fight for that new level of confidence was way sexier than her high-cut costume, which showed a whole lot of thigh, or the transparent sequins that revealed the small of her back.

He was so damn fascinated, in fact, he didn’t take much note of a fracas developing to his left. His brain registered the sound of squealing women and people shoving, but that was all until a petite redhead stumbled against him. “Careful,” he warned the woman automatically.

He had only a vague impression of her, his focus on Courtney, until the redhead stuck a camera in his face and plastered her cheek against his.

“Smile for the camera, Trey!” she urged, a flash blinding him as she snapped a picture.

A bouncer arrived an instant later with hushed apologies to Trey. He steered the staggering, laughing female away, along with a couple of her friends, but not before Trey saw them high-fiving each other as they congratulated themselves on snagging a “money shot” of a Hollywood insider.

He wanted to haul Courtney off the platform and shuttle her to his SUV so they could ditch this place. Together. It sounded like her music was winding down.

“Wow.” Fawn leaned forward to speak into his ear, her shoulder brushing his. “It must be tough to be photographed everywhere you go.”

Her fluttering eyelashes and touchy-feely body language might not have been a big deal on another day. But right now, he didn’t have the patience for it. He wanted to get the hell out of Backstage now.

“Yeah, I’m probably going to take off.” Except how could he walk away while Courtney had one leg wrapped around the pole, her back arched seductively.

And when the guy next to him gave a wolf whistle and waved a hundred dollar bill at the stage, Trey knew for certain he couldn’t leave Courtney alone.

“Are you sure?” Fawn tucked her hand around his forearm. “Why don’t you stay and have a drink with us? I’ll introduce you to the dancer.”

The dancer who wasn’t Natalie Night. How the hell was he going to get Courtney away from here without her friends and colleagues discovering a secret that could potentially cost her her job?

Courtney slid down to the floor, her performance at an end. As silver confetti rained from the ceiling, Trey knew he didn’t have much time to make a plan.

* * *

I
HAD
TWENTY
different problems to deal with as the audience broke into wild applause. But the only one that mattered right now was removing Fawn Barrows’s manicured nails from Trey’s arm. I stared daggers at that possessive feminine claw, willing it off my man.

And he
was
mine.

It might only be temporary. For this week, this month or—please God—even longer. But right now, Trey Fraser counted as the man in my life, and I feared for my actions if my gorgeous coworker didn’t rethink the way she was coming on to him. She slid herself around Trey more fluidly than I’d moved around the steel pole during my dance. The woman was good. She was also smart, successful and untouched by insecurity. If I could grow fangs, they’d be showing already.

I ran my tongue over my incisors, curious.

A peripheral movement caught my eye and I realized that Trey was gesturing for me to come off the stage. Belatedly, I remembered that I hadn’t taken a bow and the applause was quickly dying. The music had changed. The silver confetti no longer fell from the ceiling, signifying the end of my act. Behind Trey and Fawn, Star beckoned me to join her. She knew both Natalie and me fairly well and wouldn’t be fooled by a mask for long.

As I scurried off the stage, my stomach churned and I wondered how to avoid all my colleagues from Sphere. I couldn’t believe I’d ignored Natalie and Trey and booked this appearance in the first place.

“Great show, Natalie!” someone shouted as I descended the steps, shaky and off my game.

Paper money in varying denominations fluttered in my face, but a bouncer arrived in time to make the guys waving it back off. I gladly took his sizable arm and allowed him to lead me toward the dressing area. Darting waitresses rushed past with trays of mixed drinks while a few Nordic-looking models passed out samples of some new brand of Russian vodka.

“Natalie!” a familiar feminine voice called behind me while strobe lights flashed all around. “Wait for us!”

I knew that had to be Star. I gauged the distance to the changing rooms and realized I’d never make it. Even if I ignored her and somehow did get to those doors before she did, she would follow and knock until I answered. And it wasn’t like she was alone. If she had been, I would have risked sharing my secret. But the other women with her had no reason to keep my risqué hobby under wraps.

Turning slowly, I kept a hold on the bouncer’s arm.

“I n-need a m-m-minute,” I told him, my tongue like a cold engine failing to turn over in the winter. I’d learned that analogy from time spent with my New Yorker father.

Thanks, Dad.

“Hi, Natalie!” A chorus of greetings arose. And suddenly the women from my office were descending on me, along with others who’d attended Star’s bachelorette party once upon a time. Worse, in the middle of that sea of smiling faces stood Trey.

My colleagues would ruin me, and Trey would be there to witness it. Right now, I wished more than anything that he wasn’t here to see my disgrace. Star hugged my shoulders.

Was she close enough to see behind my mask?

“H-hi,” I mumbled, fingers running over my mask, tugging slightly to ensure it covered as much of my face as possible. “Th-thanks for—”

“Ms. Night.” Trey stepped forward, wrapping a protective arm around me, his hand landing in the middle of my back. “My car is outside if you still have time for our meeting.”

Confused, I nodded mutely, hoping against hope he had thought of a way out of this. Besides, even if I’d known what to say at that moment, I wouldn’t have been able to get it past my lips without a lot of fits and starts. It was just that kind of situation.

“Meeting?” Fawn frowned, insinuating herself on Trey’s other side. “We’re going to buy our friend a drink, Trey. Come with us.”

She looped her arm through his free one and I had a quick vision of us engaged in a tug of war.

“Sorry.” Trey shook his head, all business. “Ms. Night is one of my agency’s new clients. We’ve been trying to work out our schedules for this consultation for the last two weeks.”

He was already drawing me back. The head bouncer with the very thick neck and a walkie-talkie on his hip took Trey’s cue and used his big arm to separate me from Star and the rest of the women.

“I’ll have your car brought around, Mr. Fraser,” the guy assured him, using lightning fast skills with the walkie-talkie so that he already had a valet in motion outside.

Oh, my God. This was going to work.

“Thank you for coming,” I articulated very slowly, purposely trying to make my voice a little deeper so they wouldn’t recognize it.

Still, Fawn frowned, and I wondered if I’d tipped her off about my identity with the slow speech.

But Star was assuring me I had put on a wonderful show while Trey and the bouncer hustled me out of the club.

“My bag. In the d-dressing room,” I said to Trey, feeling awkward about walking through the main bar in my costume. Luckily, no one paid much attention to me while I was sandwiched between two guys, one big enough to block a tank.