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His smile came slow and easy and it made her skin feel hot. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “I think you’d be worth every dime.”
Her legs were shaking. “Even…even if I said I would, you know you can’t touch me.” There were rules about what she could and couldn’t do, how far she was allowed to go. What the customer could and couldn’t do. She wasn’t a prostitute, after all, she was a dancer.
Well, actually, she was a kindergarten teacher, but he didn’t know that.
“I’ll talk to Tate, arrange for a private room.” He slid back his chair and stood up. Even in six-inch heels, she had to look up at him.
When he started to leave, she grabbed his arm. “Wait a minute. I—I didn’t say I’d do it.”
His mouth edged up. “What’s the matter? You aren’t afraid, are you?”
She stiffened. Of course she was afraid. She was terrified. But she wasn’t about to let him know. “No, of course not.”
“Good.” He turned and started walking. As he sauntered off toward the owner, Amy stared after him.
Oh, my God! She was going to do a lap dance for Johnnie Riggs! And the weirdest part was, deep down in her womanly core, she wanted to do it.
Johnnie took a seat in one of the comfortable rooms the club provided for private dances. For seventy-five bucks, he got three songs. He wasn’t sure he could handle one.
The truth was, he had never bought a lap dance in his life. Watching a naked woman parade around in front of him just didn’t cut it, not unless he was taking her to bed.
But there was something about this particular woman. He wanted her. More than he could remember wanting a woman in a very long time. Maybe ever. He had a feeling it wasn’t going to happen—not without a great deal of trouble.
He was pushing her buttons, he knew. She wasn’t comfortable dancing for him. Hell, she wasn’t comfortable just being in the room with him, and yet he had a hunch the only way to reach her was to push her hard enough to cave.
So he walked into the small, dimly lit room he had paid for and sat down in the only piece of furniture inside, an overstuffed mauve velour chair. He took a long swallow on the fresh beer he’d picked up at the bar then set the bottle down on the table built into the arm. Leaning back, he made himself comfortable and prepared to watch the show.
“You’re kidding, right?” Babs stood with Amy outside the door to one of the private lap dance rooms. She had changed back into her red sequined G-string and the red sequined pasties that covered her nipples, proper attire for the show.
“It’s just a dance,” she said, trying to sound more confident than she felt. “We need this man’s help. I’m going to dance for him and then I’m going to see if I can hire him to help us.”
Babs stood there in her shiny blue wig, the fake hair thick, straight, blunt-cut and just a little longer than her own dark hair. She planted her hands on her hips, a thoughtful look in her eyes.
“Actually, it’s not a bad idea. Nothing’s going to happen. Tate’s got cameras in there. He gets out of line, you just yell, Bo Jing comes in and it’s over.”
“I don’t think he’ll get out of line.” She wasn’t sure why she felt that way, she just did.
“He’s a pretty cool customer, all right. I can’t see him turning into a lust-crazed maniac. On the other hand, sometimes the quiet ones are the ones you have to watch.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” But as she walked into the room and spotted John Riggs in the chair positioned in front of the fake parquet dance floor, her mind went completely blank and she couldn’t think of anything at all.
One of his big hands curled around the beer bottle sitting on the built-in table. He watched every move she made as she approached, but he didn’t get up from his chair.
“Just so you know, this is a first for me, too.”
That surprised her. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Why me?”
He took a sip of his beer. “You intrigue me. I want to take you out. I’m hoping once you realize how harmless I am, you’ll agree.”
He didn’t look harmless. He looked like a big, lazy cat ready to pounce at any moment. She thought of the help she needed to find her sister. In the time she had been in the club, she hadn’t accomplished much. Getting an appointment with that cheese-ball Kyle Bennett was the only real progress she had made.
The music started just then, saving her from having to make some sort of comment. She took a few steps away from him, turned her back and tried to fill her head with the heavy beat of the music, the thud of the bass, the rhythm of the drum, tried to relax.
It was a lot harder to perform in here than onstage, a lot more difficult to block out the image of John Riggs watching her every move when she knew exactly what he was thinking. Knew he was here because he wanted her in his bed.
The music swelled. She let her head fall back, felt her long straight hair brush against her bottom. Instead of blocking him out of her mind, she decided to go with it, set her sexuality free, dance for Johnnie Riggs, a man who attracted her physically as no one ever had.
She slid her hands into her hair and lifted it away from the back of her neck, turned toward him, let the hair slide down around her shoulders. His face was partially hidden in shadow, but she could see his eyes, read his hunger.
She moved toward him, stopped just inches away. Her breath rushed in and out, hot and sharp. She closed her eyes, let the music take over, arched her back, thrust out her breasts, and began to sway. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel him, feel the powerful lust he barely contained. Her body heated, softened, silently responded.
Dear God, she had never felt anything like it. She undulated, lifted her hair, turned and let it glide down her back, then spun away.
A few beats later, she sat down on his lap facing him, reached up and ran her hands down the sides of his face. She could feel the late night stubble along his jaw and it drove her crazy. He was hard beneath her, iron hard inside his jeans, and throbbing. For an instant, she couldn’t breathe.
She forced herself up, forced her body to move away, to fall back into the dance. She spun and shimmied, then returned to his chair. She sat down facing him again, her legs splayed over his. Something shifted inside her, loosened, expanded, and desire took over. When she draped her arms around his neck, the last of her inhibitions slipped away. Amy leaned forward and kissed him, just a soft melding of lips. It was against the rules to kiss a client during a lap dance and yet she did it again, another soft brush of lips that only made her want more.
Every muscle in his body felt rigid beneath her and yet the only thing that moved was the hot mouth gliding over hers, the lips that began to take instead of leisurely accept. She opened her mouth and his tongue slid inside, and the next thing she knew, his arms were around her, crushing her against him, the kiss blazing hot, deep and erotic.
His hand found her breast and the heat of his palm engulfed the fullness. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. A little whimpering sound came from her throat, and in some deep part of her mind, sanity began to return. Johnnie kissed her again, long and hard, and fear hit her. God in heaven, what was she doing?
Trembling all over, Amy broke the kiss. Her heart was pounding with a combination of desire and embarrassment. She had never behaved so insanely. And she had never wanted anything more than Johnnie Riggs.
For an instant their eyes locked, his hot and dark, hers wild and frightened. Then the oddest thing happened. Johnnie came out of the chair with her still in his arms and set her back on her feet.
At the same instant, the music ended, the silence in the room a second splash of cold water hitting her squarely in the face.
“Oh, my God,” she said, backing away from him. “Oh, my God.” She turned, started to run for the door. Johnnie caught her wrist, turning her toward him before she could escape.
“Easy, honey. Just take it easy.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t…I don’t know what happened.”
“It’s all right,” he soothed as if she were a frightened child. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again because she had broken the rules and she didn’t understand how it had happened. He led her back over to the chair he had been sitting in only moments before and urged her down in the seat.
“We need to talk,” he said, “but this isn’t the place. What time do you get off work?”
She started shaking her head.
“Listen to me, Angel. We’ll go out and have some coffee. I promise we won’t do more than talk, all right?”
Her nerves settled a little. This is the opportunity you’ve been wanting, she reminded herself. The chance to tell him about her sister and see if he would be willing to work out some sort of arrangement to help her. “I have to go back to work,” she said lamely.
“When does your shift end?”
“I’m…I’m on the early shift tonight. I get off at eleven.”
He nodded. “Good. That’s good. I’ll be waiting in the parking lot when you come outside.”
She just stared at him. Johnnie caught her chin and tipped it up, forcing her to look at him. She felt like crying and didn’t know why.
“Just coffee. I give you my word.”
Her throat ached. She had no idea why she believed him, but she did. He was a Ranger, wasn’t he? Surely Rangers didn’t lie. “All right.”
He bent and kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you at eleven.” He didn’t say more, just left her there and quietly slipped outside the room.
Babs hurried in after him. Amy was still sitting in the chair. “Jesus, what happened? You look shell-shocked.”
Amy blinked to keep from crying. “I don’t know what happened. I completely lost control.”
“He didn’t…Riggs didn’t…”
“He was a gentleman. I was the one. I still can’t believe it. God, I’m so embarrassed.”
Babs started to smile. “Sounds like it went exactly the way we planned. When are you seeing him again?”
Amy glanced up. “What?”
“You’re seeing him again, right?”
Amy nodded numbly. “Tonight. After my shift. We’re going for coffee. He gave me his word we’d just talk.”
Babs seemed to approve. “Smooth, not too pushy. I think I like this guy.”
“I don’t know what it is, Babs, but there’s something about him.”
Her friend just smiled. “Honey, you can say that again.”
Johnnie slid behind the wheel of the Mustang, tipped his head back against the headrest and just sat there.
“Jesus.” He couldn’t quite catch his breath. He was still so hard he hurt and at the same time he felt completely drained. Watching Angel Fontaine was like waging a war with himself, a war he’d barely won.
He’d almost lost it tonight, but as hot as he’d been and still was, as hot as Angel had been—and man, the lady was on fire—something just wasn’t right. He had to know what it was and he was determined to find out.
He believed she would show up tonight. Angel was even more baffled about what had happened in there than he was. Whoever she was—and he was sure Angel wasn’t her name—she wasn’t used to the kind of desire that had hit them both tonight.
The kind that struck like lightning, turned into a blazing inferno and flat-out sucked you dry. In another minute, he’d have had her on the floor and been inside her. He still didn’t know how he had managed to hang on to that last shred of control.
Maybe it was his Ranger training. Maybe it was seeing the fear in her pretty blue eyes when she had realized how close they both were to losing complete control.
He raked a hand through his short, dark hair. He couldn’t figure her out and that was part of the attraction.
Later tonight, he was going to find out what was going on with Angel Fontaine.
Four
At the end of her shift, Amy changed into a pair of skinny jeans, tucked in a red print shirt, fastened a silver belt around her waist and slid her feet into a pair of red, open-toed high heels. At five foot one, she was shorter than nearly everyone. High heels gave her a psychological boost as well as a physical one and she almost always wore them.
She glanced in the mirror. She had washed her face and removed her stage makeup. She ran a brush through her hair and fluffed her bangs, fastened a small gold hoop in each ear, then applied a little blush, mascara and pale pink lipstick. Nothing too heavy. She wasn’t Angel now and she didn’t want to be.
Amy thought of her performance in the private lap dance room and felt a rush of embarrassment. What in the world had possessed her? During her few relationships, she had never been the aggressor during sex and basically preferred it that way. But tonight… Tonight something insane had come over her. She’d felt bold, empowered. She had practically attacked John Riggs right there in his chair.
Closing her eyes to block out the image, she reached for her small red leather purse and slung the strap over her shoulder. She couldn’t imagine what Riggs must think of her or how she could possibly explain. At the apartment door, she paused. Maybe she should wait, talk to him after a cooling-off period. It would certainly be easier to face him.
On the other hand, maybe this was the perfect opportunity. With a sigh, she pulled open the door. The man was taking her out for coffee, nothing more. He had given her his word and she believed him. This was the chance she needed.
Maybe.
She hadn’t thought past the part about trying to hire him. She would just have to play it by ear.
Babs met her as she crossed the backstage area toward the door leading out to the parking lot.
Babs propped a hand on her hip. “I talked to Tate. He says Riggs is an okay guy.”
Amy just nodded, trying to forget the feel of those hot, possessive lips moving over hers.
“I pressed the boss a little to see what I could find out and Tate told me Riggs is a good investigator but he doesn’t work cheap.”
“I had a feeling.”
“It never hurts to ask, right? You never know till you try.”
Amy drew in a breath. “I don’t know quite what I’m going to say, but I guess I’ll think of something.”
“Are you kidding? After that little performance you gave him, the guy is going to be toast.”
Amy thought of her behavior during the dance and closed her eyes against a blush. “I guess we’ll see.” She waved over her shoulder as she pushed open the door.
“I won’t wait up,” Babs teased with a grin, and Amy’s stomach knotted.
What would Riggs expect?
What would she be willing to do?
With a breath for courage, she stepped out into the parking lot and spotted him behind the wheel of a black Mustang. The car fit him perfectly, dark and powerful, dangerous and predatory. Her insides tightened.
Dear God, how far would she be willing to go to get John Riggs to help her?
Leaning back in the seat, Johnnie spotted Angel the minute she walked out into the night. He knew the instant she saw him. She froze like a deer in the headlights, and Johnnie didn’t hesitate, just shoved open the car door and came out of his seat, started striding toward her.
“I’m glad you came,” he said with a smile meant to put her at ease. “I know a little café just a couple of blocks away. We can get some coffee there.”
