Stripped Down

Grabbing Gwen’s hand, Cass wove through the crowd to the front door.

Gwen tugged on Cass’s grip. “What’s going on?”

“Someone knocked.”

Steeling herself, Cass yanked the door open. And stopped breathing. Completely.

Tall, probably six-three or six-four, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, the man wore a well-fitted business suit of dark gray with subtle pinstriping, complete with a solid, darker vest. A purple paisley tie and matching pocket square rounded out the look. His dark brown hair was damp and, cut in an executive’s cut, needed a trim. One broad hand smoothed his jacket. “Gwen Sivern?” he asked her. His voice was as fluid as hot caramel.

Cass pointed at Gwen. “Her.” She swallowed hard. “I’m Cass. Wheeler. Cass Wheeler.”

A dark, seductive grin revealed dimples.

She’d never had an opinion on dimples. Suddenly she loved them. Craved them. Thought every man should have them.

Shifting his pale green gaze to Gwen, he held out a hand. “Dalton Chase. I’m here to discuss your prenuptial agreement.”

Gwen glanced from him to Cass, who shrugged. “I don’t have a prenuptial agreement.”

“That’s...interesting.” Dalton flipped open the lower button on his jacket and slipped one hand in his pocket. He focused on Cass. “May I come in?”

Cass moved aside, inadvertently yanking Gwen with her.

Dalton’s eyes slipped to their cuffed wrists. His lips twitched. “I see I got here just in time for the fun.”

Dreaded heat flooded Cass’s cheeks. “I lost the key,” she said on a sigh at the same time Gwen squeaked, “It’s not what it looks like, I swear.”

He stepped into the foyer, closing the door behind him, grinning. “My lucky night. Considering you’re cuffed to her, I’m going to take it as a two-for-one special.”

Gwen turned in near slow motion and gaped first at Cass and then at Dalton. “You’re a stripper.”

Cass darted a glance at Dalton. His smile never faltered, but his face seemed to tighten.

“Cass,” Gwen all but shouted as she bounced on the balls of her feet. “Tell me you hired me a stripper.”

Dalton chuckled. “Well, Gwen, I’m not here to sell you life insurance.” He started through the apartment. “Sounds like the fun’s centered in here.”

Temporary silence fell over the crowd of women when he walked into the large living room, Cass and Gwen right behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder. “I was told you’d have a stereo.”

“I, uh, do.” What is wrong with me? She’d seen attractive men and had even dated a couple of exceptionally gorgeous specimens, but there was something about this man that was different. She tipped her head toward the entertainment center. “It’s on the shelf below the TV.”

“Excellent.” He nodded toward the women who were watching him with open fascination. “Ladies.”

“You’re Dalton Chase,” breathed one of Gwen’s distant cousins whose name Cass couldn’t remember.

He smiled at her. “I am.”

“Please, Lord, tell me that man is going to take his clothes off. Someone please tell me he’s going to take his clothes off,” Tyra, Cass’s assistant, said in a stage whisper.

“Oh, he’s going to,” the bridesmaid-cousin said, reaching for her purse and digging out her wallet with shaking hands.

Cass tried not to smile and failed as the women scrambled to retrieve their handbags.

She’d gone to extremes to keep the evening’s entertainment private, asking the club to go so far as to keep her name off the invoice. Hiring a stripper wasn’t really a big deal, but the double standards of behavior for men versus women were alive and well in the business world. And she had to face Sovereign’s board of directors next week, a board that was notoriously conservative. Plus, she didn’t doubt there would be competitors who would try to use the information to paint her as a young, irresponsible wild child and snag the contract out from under her. Too much work had gone into this project to lose it to some small-minded, misogynistic asshat.

Despite all that, she watched Dalton dig through his briefcase and couldn’t help but admire the chiseled line of his jaw and broad sweep of his shoulders. She’d asked the club to send the best. They’d certainly honored her request.

Dalton crouched before the stereo and plugged in his phone, scrolling through his music to find the song he wanted. He cranked the volume before facing the room. “I need a chair.”

Three women scrambled to offer theirs.

He winked at the shyest of the group and took the chair she offered before tracing the pad of one of his fingers down the woman’s jaw. “Thanks.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

To a woman, the room sucked in its breath and several squirmed in their seats.

The song’s bass line started low and built as Dalton slowly slid the chair across the room with exaggerated steps. He stopped and crooked his finger at Gwen, but his eyes were on Cass.

She couldn’t look away.

“Both of you. C’mere.”

The music began to throb, the base thumping in a sexual cadence. Gwen dragged Cass across the floor.

Dalton settled Gwen in the chair and stood Cass behind her, their cuffed wrists resting on Gwen’s shoulder.

Pitbull’s voice came across the speakers, followed by Christina Aguilera’s. Dalton shrugged out of his jacket. Stepping in close enough to Cass that she could feel the heat radiating off his torso, he held the jacket out by one finger. The lyrics paused. He let the jacket fall.

The room went wild.

His hips worked behind Cass in time to the music, his groin randomly brushing her ass.

She curled her fingers into Gwen’s shoulder. This was not the way this was supposed to have gone. Gwen was supposed to get a lap dance, a little embarrassing sexual innuendo dropped around her, and the women were supposed to get a show. Cass was not supposed to be part of the performance.

“Go with it, Ms. Wheeler,” he whispered into her ear.

Her breath caught in her chest. He smelled expensive—rich, dark, spicy—and something in her ignited as he ran a finger down her spine. “Cass.”

The music built and broke into a techno dance beat.

He grabbed her hips and ground against her. “Cass it is.”

Dalton moved around the chair and straddled Gwen’s lap, rolling his torso in an impressive move that made him seem boneless. Pulling his tie loose, he left it around his neck as he flicked first his vest then his shirt open. They landed on the floor beside his jacket. He was tan, smooth-skinned and defined in a way that made Cass hunger to run her hands over his body.

Propping a foot lightly on Gwen’s thigh, one side of his mouth curled up in a brutally seductive smile. “Help me with my shoe?”

“I can’t,” Gwen squeaked.

“Just the laces, baby. I’ll do the rest.”

Gwen reached a shaking hand toward his shoe.

Cass leaned forward and laid her hand over Gwen’s so they undid the laces together.

Dalton grinned, wide and shameless. “A threesome. My favorite.”

Cass couldn’t blink, could only stare at him. He owned the moment, so compelling and utterly sexual in a way she’d never experienced. Not like this. His absolute confidence fueled her bravery. Before she thought it through, she arched a brow and licked her lips. “Seems you’ve got another shoe.”

“So I do.” He moved his other foot up to Gwen’s thigh. “Be as thorough as you need to be, ladies.”

“It’s just a shoe,” Gwen said, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “How can a shoe be so damn provocative?”

“You’re cuffed to another woman, sweetheart, and you’re asking me to explain to you what we could do with the laces?” He kicked the shoe off and knelt in front of Gwen, running his hands up the outside of her legs, ankles to hips. With an exaggerated sigh, he placed a hand over his heart. “I only have one night, darling, but for you? I’ll do my best to teach you everything I know.”

He surged to his feet, hips rolling and thrusting in time to the music. The way he moved had to be illegal in twenty-seven states. Maybe twenty-eight. Or forty. Then he ran his hands over his body.

Cass’s nipples pearled. Glancing up, she was stunned to find him watching her.

Eyes brimming with something primitive and dark, he never looked away from Cass as he grabbed Gwen’s hand and guided her through removing his belt. He stalked around them. One wide hand moved around Cass’s waist to feed the belt across her lower hips. Dalton gripped each end and leaned back, forcing Cass to arch her spine and present her ass. Dropping the belt, he grabbed her hips and moved against her in a smooth pantomime of sex.

Her mind went totally blank. The only thing she could manage was conjuring images of Dalton naked, in bed, pulling some of the same moves. Cass closed her eyes. Her first inclination was to regain control of the moment, to not let anyone—him—rule her in the moment.

You’ve earned a little fun. Screw the moment! her subconscious shouted.

Gwen’s earlier admonishment to let her hair down suddenly became the best advice ever.

3

ERIC HAD EXPERIENCED a moment of absolute, unanticipated desire when the hostess opened the front door. He’d seen lots of beautiful women, but Cass was something else. At somewhere near six feet in heels, she’d looked up at him with denim-blue eyes framed by long black lashes. Pale pink lips had parted as she’d sucked in a breath. Color had stolen across high cheekbones, and she’d dropped her gaze.

Something inside him had shifted then. Hard. His synapses fired and then spontaneously combusted. He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d said, only that he’d made it to the living room without giving in to the impulse to kiss her.

In a strange way, it had made the rest of the night’s decisions easier. He’d dance only for her. It wasn’t about the money; they were just two people responding to each other. And it had been a damn long time since he’d felt like his body was more than a commodity.

As he tightened the belt, she looked over her shoulder and gave him a slow, sexy smile, rolling her bottom lip under her front teeth and waggling her eyebrows.

Lust flooded his groin.

He ran a hand up her spine and wound his fingers through her dark hair, pulling her head back. Game. On.

Her dark blue eyes flared for one brief second.

Eric pulled her toward him. Sliding his palm over her taut abdomen, he swiveled his hips and reveled at the catch of her breath.

Movement caught his attention. Gwen was staring over her shoulder curiously. Damn it. He’d gotten so wrapped up in Cass that he’d forgotten the bride. He let the tall, sultry brunette go and shifted his attention to the blonde.

The music bled from Pitbull to the Black Eyed Peas’ “Boom Boom Pow.”

After dancing with Cass, his cock was threatening to put on a real show, but the idea was enough to tone things down.

Stalking around Gwen, he unbuttoned his pants and teased his zipper down.

He made the removal of his pants a seduction, though it wasn’t for the benefit of the woman seated in front of him. Inch after inch of skin was revealed until he let them fall away, finally stepping free. Straddling Gwen again, he fought to keep his gaze on her and not the woman cuffed to her. Her free hand was fisted at her waist. Eric picked it up and dragged it down his chest, imagining how Cass’s fingers would feel on his heated skin.

Gwen looked up at him, eyes sparkling. “Do that thing with your abs.”

He rolled his torso, shoulders to hips.

She screamed and laughed again.

The women in the room went wild.

Eric beckoned the shy one who’d given him her chair. “C’mon, baby girl. Let me thank you appropriately.”

She shook her head.

“Go get her,” Cass murmured.

Surprised, he glanced at her.

“She’s my assistant. Her husband recently left her.” True concern colored Cass’s eyes. “It would make her feel good.”

With a quick nod, he worked his way to the quiet woman. She refused to look up as he danced. Fair. But it didn’t work for him. So he pulled her out of her chair and let her stumble into him, saving herself by planting her hands on his chest. He pressed her hands there and encouraged her to touch. That wasn’t part of his typical act, but at the moment, it didn’t matter.

Moving around the woman, he whispered soft encouragement. When her hand snaked out to put a five in his G-string, he rewarded her with a little extra attention and a second kiss to the cheek. Then he slipped to his briefcase and retrieved a pair of handcuffs and a tiny key. He held both up to the ladies. “Who thinks we should make Gwen work for the key?”

The bride shook her head. “Cass needs to earn it. She’s the one who lost the key to start with.”

“Is that fair?” he asked the room in general. It was certainly the arrangement he preferred.

The response was unanimous.

“Cass,” he murmured. “I’m going to let Gwen go. You’ll stay here and earn the key for both of you.”

Her eyes sparked and color flooded her cheeks, but she nodded.

“Here’s what we’re going to do, ladies. I’m going to switch the music to something a little more...appropriate. While my back is turned—” shouts and comments “—you’re going to hide money all over Cass. I’m going to find it. I only get to keep what I find.” He paused and looked at Cass. “Please, be creative. Very, very creative.”

He went to the stereo, smiling at the excited teasing going on behind him. Pushing through the custom mix, he stopped on his favorite song. An electric guitar struck a chord. The bass line fell in behind, and the vocalist slipped into the mix. Highly suggestive lyrics made his blood run hot. Not as hot as the woman who had moved to sit in the center of the room, though. She was spectacular.

She also seemed a little uncomfortable.

Moving around her with slow deliberation, he trailed his fingertips over her bare skin.

She shivered.

He started by plucking bills from the easy-to-reach places and tucked them into his G-string. And bless those women. They’d taken his instructions to heart, tucking bills all over her. He was pretty sure he could now give a good approximation of Cass’s measurements. Damn if he wasn’t enjoying himself

He dragged the back of his fingers up her arm and under her long hair, wrapping his hand around her neck. Bending close, he locked his gaze with hers. “Did they hide anything in here?”

“You expect me to help you cheat?”

The way she stared at him with undiluted curiosity and open desire made his fingers curl into her neck muscles. His groin tightened.

Gwen and her cheering section were shouting, encouraging him to move on. Dragging his fingers down, over her collarbone and stopping at the glimpse of cleavage his position afforded, he sent her a searching look.

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.

* * *

CASS 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.

* * *

THE 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.