Set Loose (2 page)

“Hey, sweetheart. You’re not leaving yet, are you?” he asked, his beer breath blowing in her face.

“I need to talk to someone.”

“You are talking to someone. Me,” he said, and then laughed like he’d said something incredibly clever.

“Excuse me, I really need to go.”

“I saw you watching the girls. Is that what you like?” he asked, as if she hadn’t spoken.

”I’d like to be left alone, actually,” Emily said, her temper flaring.

She needed to get away from this creep. Unfortunately, a group of guys started to push their way through just as she was trying to escape and she didn’t get anywhere.

“Come on, lighten up,” the creep said, reaching out and grabbing her arm.

Emily tried to pull away from him. “Look, I’m not interested.”

“Take it easy. All I want to do is talk,” he said, his grip tightening.

Now what was she supposed to do? Call for help? Hit him? This was crazy. Emily was looking around, wondering if she’d have to cause a scene, when a man pushed through the crowd and grabbed the creep’s shoulder with an air of professional intimidation.

“That’s it, buddy. You’re out of here,” he said.

“What? You can’t do that. I’m here with a bunch of people.”

“Then I guess you’d better say your goodbyes. You’ve got exactly thirty seconds. Starting now.”

The creep shot the bouncer a malevolent look and hurried over to his friends, saying something while darting a glance backward. Then he was out the door. Emily let out the breath she’d been holding and turned to her rescuer, finally taking him in.

Oh my.

He was probably a couple of inches over six feet, like any respectable bouncer would be, but lean and hard rather than bulky. Native American, with nut-brown skin and straight black hair that slid across his high cheekbones and just brushed the nape of his neck. He was dressed like the other bouncers in dark pants and a white button-down shirt rolled to the elbows, and just the sight of his muscled forearms nearly sent her into a swoon.

His dark, thickly lashed eyes were focused on her.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice breathier than usual. “He really wasn’t taking no for an answer.”

“No thanks necessary. I love throwing guys like that out.” He looked at her curiously. “If you don’t mind my saying, you seem out of place here. Like you were looking for the opera or something.”

“What makes you say that?” Emily asked, irrationally annoyed. “I’m perfectly comfortable here. And I’m not the only woman who’s dressed up.”

“It’s not what you’re wearing, exactly,” he said, looking uncomfortable now, probably wishing he hadn’t said anything. “You carry yourself differently. Like maybe you ran away from the castle to see how the rabble live.”

Emily stared at him, not knowing what to say. God knew she was no princess. She was broke and jobless and didn’t even have a college degree since she went straight from high school into the Boston corps de ballet. But it just showed what good posture could do for a person. Or maybe all those years playing princesses on stage had rubbed off.

“I’m afraid not,” she finally said. “I’m just well-dressed rabble.”

This triggered a smile from him that sent unexpected heat into her cheeks and belly. Standing this close to him, she could tell how powerful his body was, his strength brought under control by what appeared to be a steely disposition. Was she imagining the flicker of interest in his eyes as he took her in so thoroughly?

The mood broke when he looked at something over her head. “Damn. I have to go.” He looked back down at her, his expression serious and thoughtful. “You have a good night. Give a shout if you get into any trouble,” he said, squeezing her arm before heading off.

Emily watched him make his way through the crowd and between tables to a customer who’d gotten too friendly during a lap dance. He leaned over and said a few words and the man’s hands fell away from the stripper’s breasts. Then he continued on, moving around the room, his gaze taking everything in.

Clearly he had his hands full rescuing damsels in distress.

Only when he’d disappeared from view did Emily remember what she’d been doing before getting waylaid. The hostess was nowhere to be seen, but one of the dancers passed by, a pretty redhead who was probably even prettier without all the make-up.

“Excuse me,” Emily said, but the music was so loud the woman didn’t so much as turn her head.

Emily moved after her, touching her lightly on the shoulder. Her skin was oiled and sprinkled with glitter, her eyes wary when she turned.

Emily let her hand drop and tried her best not to look at the woman’s naked breasts. “Excuse me. Could I ask you a question?”

“That depends.”

“I was wondering if you could tell me how I’d go about getting an audition.”

The dancer’s eyes widened in surprise and then she smiled. “See that stocky guy standing by the VIP door? That’s Steve, the manager. Talk to him and he’ll tell you if he’s interested.”

Emily followed her gaze to a barrel-chested guy, probably Italian, standing across the room. “Thanks, I appreciate it,” she said. Then, because she was beginning to realize that time was money, she pulled out her wallet and handed the woman a ten-dollar bill. She smiled in thanks, tucked the money into her thong, and headed back into the sea of men.

Taking a deep breath and ignoring the flutter of nerves in her belly, Emily made her way over to the manager.

“Hi there,” she said, then inwardly winced. God, she sounded like she was trying to pick him up.

Steve-the-manager looked at her with a generic smile. “What can I do for you, sweetheart?”

Her heart beat like mad now and her palms were damp. “I’d like to audition.”

“Is that so?” he said, taking the statement as invitation to look her up and down. She’d been checked out more tonight than she had in the last ten years put together. “Sorry, babe. Nothing personal, but your tits are too small and men like their strippers naughty. You’re pretty but you’re not the right type.”

“I can dance better than anyone in here, and I can act naughty.”

“Is that so?” Steve asked, crossing his arms over his chest with a doubtful smirk.

He wasn’t buying it. Her throat tightened as the panic she’d been suppressing threatened to rear its ugly head again. She had to prove she had what it took before he lost interest in her entirely.

She had to show him.

She swung her left leg out and up in a wide arc until her ankle rested on his shoulder and the silky skirt of her dress slid down her thigh. Grabbing him by the bicep, she pressed against him until her pelvis was up against his. Then slowly, one hand gripping his belt while the other rested on her breasts, she arched backwards, lower and lower until she was upside down, her hair streaming towards the floor. Her breasts practically popped out of her dress but she hung there another few seconds before slowly rising back up to meet his gaze with a saucy smile.

One of his hands was resting on her hip, his other arm cradled her thigh. His erection pressed against her, which skeeved her out but also proved that she’d made her point. Swinging her leg back down to the floor she stepped back and straightened her skirt.

“So how about that audition?”

The manager blinked once and then regained his composure, though he looked slightly pissed.

“Come back tomorrow at six. If you bomb I don’t want it to be during prime time.”

“I never bomb,” Emily replied, turning away before he could see her triumphant grin.

She faltered for a moment when she caught sight of the hot bouncer standing a few yards away, watching her with a look she couldn’t read. Whatever it was, he’d obviously caught her impromptu tryout. Too bad she hadn’t been able to try out on him. Now
that
would have been something.

Unsure what to do, she gave him a smile and a little wave. If he hadn’t believed she was rabble before, her little show should have done the trick.

***

Cutter stood across the room, unable to believe his eyes. The gorgeous blond was grinding against Steve, her long, lithe body moving like a pro. Better than most pros, as a matter of fact. Was she a professional stripper? If so, his reading of her had been all wrong. She’d seemed way too unsure of herself to have worked in a strip club before.

Jesus, her legs. He watched as her dress slid down and her sleek, muscled thighs parted, pressing against Steve as she went into a backbend. In the blink of an eye she’d gone from a delicately pretty woman to a fantasy, her eyes closed and face set as if she were in ecstasy.

What he wouldn’t give to be Steve right now.

He watched, unable to take his eyes off her as she pulled herself back up and stood in front of the manager. Then she stepped back and was all business, her hand on her hip as if she hadn’t just been climbing all over the guy. But then, Cutter was used to watching women pretend they were in the throes of desire. Knowing they were faking it was the reason he was able to do his job without a constant hard-on. They might occasionally be having a good time, but it was work, and the hotter they made the audience, the more money they made.

But what was she doing acting that way with Steve?

She and the manager exchanged a few words and then she turned away, a pleased smile on her face. The smile faded when she saw Cutter and she hesitated, looking uncertain. For a second he thought she might come over, but no such luck. She gave a tentative smile and a little wave and strode away.

Cutter watched her go, her hips swaying beneath the red dress. He wasn’t the only one who noticed her passing, either. In a room with naked women up on stage and strolling through the crowd, she still managed to catch the eye of every man she passed.

He headed across the floor to where the manager still stood. Steve glanced over at him and nodded, his eyes taking in everything that went on around him – the dancers, the audience, the crowd at the bar.

“So what was all that about?” Cutter asked, trying to sound casual.

“What was what about?”

“That woman climbing all over you a minute ago.”

“You caught that, did you? Some girls won’t take no for an answer.”

“You mean she was hitting on you?” Cutter asked, disappointment shooting through him.

“You don’t need to sound so damn surprised. Anyway, she wasn’t hitting on me, she was auditioning. She’ll be back tomorrow to dance. If she doesn’t chicken out, that is.”

“Dancing? Here?” A quick rush of pleasure ran through him at the thought of seeing her again, followed directly by dismay as his protective instincts kicked in. A woman like her shouldn’t be stripping in front of a roomful of drunks.

“That’s right. We’ll see if she can make the whole goddamn room as hard as she made me. Jesus Christ.”

Looking disgusted with himself, as if he ought to be able to control all such reactions by now, Steve walked away, grumbling under his breath.

Cutter stood where he was, barely breathing. Tomorrow night he’d get to see the rest of that incredible body, every inch of those endless, perfect legs. If he ever got a hold of her he was going to start at the bottom and lick his way up.

Then he caught himself. What the hell was he thinking? He didn’t touch the dancers. He protected them from guys who looked at them the way he’d just been looking. Christ. This girl would need his help more than any of them. The men were going to love her, and he was going to have to work his ass off to keep everyone at bay.

So fine. Tomorrow night the classy blond was going to get naked on stage. It was going to be a goddamn beautiful sight, and he would try his damndest not to care.

Chapter Two

“Gin and tonic please.”

At five o’clock the next evening Emily’s confidence had waned considerably and her stomach was churning like it used to before a performance, the difference being that tonight she was fortifying herself with some liquid courage from one of the hotel bars. As she nursed her drink she reviewed the choreography she’d worked out earlier in the day.

She was most nervous about the pole since she had no way to practice. She was pretty much going to wing that part. Maybe she’d slide up and down as if terribly excited by its phallic nature and hope she didn’t look too ridiculous.

In the duffel bag at her feet were all the things she’d bought that afternoon – thong, garters, four-inch black heels, gold glitter, the works. In the shower she’d become acutely aware of every hair on her body and how it would be seen close-up and personal if she didn’t remove it, which led to a painful appointment with a Brazilian wax. If she didn’t at least make back what she’d spent today she was going to be seriously bummed.

She stuck to one gin and tonic since she was such a lightweight and was worried that the combination of liquor, nerves and dancing would end in her vomiting in the middle of her routine. Or what if she fell off the pole or was generally so unsexy that she was booed or laughed at?

Almost as nerve-wracking as the situation itself was the thought of the bouncer seeing her up there. Which was ridiculous since there’d be a whole roomful of strangers she needed to impress, and she knew him only slightly better than she knew them.

But it had been a long time since she’d felt any interest in a man. She’d been too focused on her career, and more recently too confused, to get involved with anyone.

The club was a lot quieter when she arrived than it had been last night. A dancer was on stage but the audience was small and its response lackluster. There was no way to know which came first, the lack of interest or the low energy dance, but Emily sincerely hoped she got a little more love or it was going to be hard to maintain a brave face.

The bouncer was there and her heart gave a little leap at the sight of him. He came over to where she was standing, his expression serious.

“I hear you’re auditioning. You sure you want to do that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” she asked, taken aback.

“No need to get defensive. It’s a tough job, that’s all, and it can do a number on you. I’ve seen it happen and it’s not pretty.”