Beefcake & Mistakes

by Fennell, Judi

She was going to have to educate Bryan on the merits—and lack thereof—of bargaining with a child. Especially Trev. He could be as stubborn as they came at times.

  “Okay.”

  She did a double-take. Was this her son?

  “I mean it, though,” said Bryan. “Your mom will give me a report. If you give her a hard time, no cupcake.”

  “I won’t. I wove Mommy and she only wants what’s best for me.”

  Jenna could kiss Cathy right now; those words had Cathy Mayfield stamped all over them.

  “That’s right, your mom does. And you know what? So do I.”

  Trevor patted Bryan’s arm. “Cool. So we can pway football now? And can we get a cupcake too?”

  Seeing them in front of her, both in profile, Jenna’s heart thudded. Same nose, same chin, same happy expression on their faces, same gorgeous eyes. Trevor was a mini version of Bryan and showed her exactly who her son would become.

  “How about a little later? Right now your mom and I have something we need to talk to you about.”

  Trevor’s lips had that twisty pout Jenna had come to know so well over the years. He only used it when he wanted to be adorable, and she never told him that it didn’t matter; he was always adorable to her. But there was no need to reveal his physical cues nor her understanding of them.

  And maybe Bryan’s were the same. Who knew? That knowledge could come in handy some day.

  “Why can’t you talk to me water? I’m stawving for cupcakes.”

  Bryan raised an eyebrow at her. “Is he always this much of a negotiator?”

  She laughed. “Looks like that’s an inherited trait.”

  Bryan laughed. “Touché.” He set Trevor onto his feet. “Come on, Trev. Let’s go into the living room to have our chat.”

  “Are you coming, too, Mommy?”

  It warmed Jenna’s heart to hear that little bit of worry in Trevor’s voice. He needed her. “Of course, Trev. I’m not leaving you.” She said that for Bryan’s benefit as much as Trevor’s.

  Sure, things were good between them right now, but would they always be? Bryan had to know that she was in this for the long haul and if he wanted to be, as well, they had to work together.

  She smiled as she followed her guys out the door—

  Her guys.

  She stopped. God, if only that were true. If only Trevor really was hers and if she’d made him with Bryan.

  She swallowed. No use crying over things that couldn’t be. The situation was what it was and if she wanted to keep it, she better get in there. Trevor might want a father, but she had no idea what was going to happen when he actually got one.

  Bryan glanced back at Jenna. What was taking her so long to walk the twelve feet into the living room on the most important afternoon of his life?

  “Didya see my stadium, Bwyan?” Trevor patted the top block. “It’s for football.”

  “I did, Trev. You did a great job.” Bryan smiled just enough to hide his laugh behind it. Trevor had the same Boston accent he’d had as a child—and neither one of them was from Boston. Bryan’s mother had said it was the cutest thing, all his dropped rs and added ahs at the ends of words that’d disappeared when he’d started kindergarten. Now Trevor had it. Maybe that meant that his biological father had had the same trait.

  Funny how the hollow feeling a thought about his father would normally have evoked was lessened by seeing the same thing in his son.

  Bryan sat on the sofa and patted the cushion next to him. “Hop up here, Trev and we’ll wait for your mom to join us.”

  Jenna looked up at that, startled it seemed, and finally walked into the room. “Sorry about that.”

  “No problem.”

  She sat on the other side of Trevor, nibbling her lip.

  God, that got to him. He wanted to nibble her lip.

  His jeans got tight enough to make him lean forward and rest his arm across his groin. “So, Trev.” He glanced at Jenna. “Your mom and I have something to tell you. Jenna? You want to do this?”

  He saw her swallow. This had to be tough for her. She’d had Trevor to herself for so long and, really, she didn’t know him. Sharing her child with an almost complete stranger had to be one of the most difficult things for her. Luckily, he was a stand-up guy. He’d take care of Trevor and her if she’d let him. He wanted to do what was right for all of them.

  “Trev, honey. I know how much you want a father, and, well…” She looked at him. “What would you say if Bryan was your dad?”

  Bryan wasn’t sure he liked all the uncertainty and ifs in the way she told Trevor, but the smile that lit his son’s face took all the doubt away.

  “Weally?”

  For the first time in Bryan’s life, he saw the beauty in violet eyes. His throat closed at the awe and happiness in that one mispronounced word.

  He cleared his throat. “Yes, Trev. I’m your dad.”

  Trevor turned that same look toward his mother. “Why are you cwying, Mommy?”

  She brushed a shaky hand over Trevor’s curls. “Because I’m so happy for you, Trevor. Every child should have two parents, and now you do.”

  The last was said to him more than Trevor. Bryan closed his hand over hers and together they stroked their son’s hair.

  “This is cool!” Trevor jumped to his feet. “Can we pway ball now? I wanna pway with my dad.” He tugged Bryan’s hand. “Come on, daddy. Wet’s go!”

  Daddy.

  It took his son less than ten seconds to accept him and call him dad.

  This was the best day of Bryan’s life.

  Which was, of course, followed by the worst night of his life.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Bryan stared at the nightmare in front of him.

  Gage had an offsite show; one of them always accompanied the dancers in case something happened , which, more times than not, did, so they would step in and dance if they had to or make monetary decisions or call a tow truck… whatever. Things like that were expected when they traveled to a show.

  But here? At the club? Things were supposed to run like clockwork here.

  Dancers dropping left and right was not clockwork.

  “What was in that damn pizza?” he yelled to Tanner as Tanner was on his way to the bathroom to lose the dinner tonight’s crew had ordered out.

  He didn’t get that; they had a fully functioning kitchen that served excellent food; why’d the crew order from somewhere else? Hell, he even gave them a discount.

  “How the fuck should I know? I certainly didn’t order it.” Tanner slammed the door shut, but not soon enough for Bryan to miss what was happening inside.

  Poor guy. It sucked to get yelled at while your insides were rebelling.

  Tamra ran past him into another bathroom, her Vegas showgirl tail feathers whipping across his face.

  They needed to plan for more bathrooms in the expansion area.

  Melanie limped past him. “I don’t think I can go on, boss.”

  Considering her skin was paler than the angel wings she wore, Bryan had to agree.

  Markus came out looking just as white. And he was black.

  “Markus, go home. Or better yet, go lay down in the break room. You probably shouldn’t be driving.”

  “I definitely shouldn’t be away from a bathroom,” he mumbled, heading toward the break room in the back.

  Bryan and Gage had made sure there were plenty of sofas there in case any of the patrons needed to sleep off some drinks and didn’t want to leave their car.

  He had a feeling that wasn’t going to happen tonight. No show meant very little booze.

  He pulled out his cell and started making calls to the dancers who were off tonight. Hopefully, enough of them would come in that they could still have a show.

  He looked at the time. A much later show than normal, but he’d comp everyone a couple of drinks. Better to lose a little income than an entire night’s worth if he had to shut down.

  Three of the off-call dancers were able to
make it in. Typically, they had twice that number, so these three would be dancing their asses off. Literally. But he still needed some more.

  “I’m leaving, Bry.” Steve stuck his face around the office door. His green face. “I don’t live too far.”

  “Take a bucket or something with you. You don’t look good.”

  “Tell me about it.” He grabbed the trashcan by Bryan’s door. “Thanks. I’ll bring it back tomorrow.”

  “Keep it. I don’t want it back.”

  Steve’s smile was wan—either from the bad pizza or the bad joke.

  Bryan made the last call. Dominic had to make it in.

  “You’ve reached Dom. I’m out. Leave a message.”

  Dom was usually glued to his cell. That he hadn’t answered didn’t bode well for Bryan.

  Shit. He was going to have to dance.

  He looked at the time again. The replacement crew would be here in the next half hour. Dom lived a good forty-five minutes away. If he didn’t return the call in the next ten, Bryan was going to have to pull his own costume out of mothballs.

  He picked up the box of noxious pizza and tossed it into the trash. Probably ought to have it analyzed then charge the pizzeria with attempted murder by poisoning.

  He looked at the delivery number on the front and called the place, hoping to save other people from the same nightmare.

  It didn’t make him feel any better to learn that other people were calling in with the same complaint; his dancers were still out for the count.

  “Tamra, go in the back and sleep it off. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

  She looked like a showgirl who’d seen far too much of the Vegas nightlife. Even her tail feathers drooped.

  “I can’t get this damn tail off. Would you mind, Bry?” She turned her back to him.

  It’d been a long time since he’d had to undo a showgirl’s costume and the hook-and-eye’s were hidden in a cloud of feathers. It probably didn’t look all that great to have his hands all over Tamra’s ass in the middle of the service corridor, but she was so ill nothing would happen between them and unless someone opened the door into the main dining area, no one would see any way.

  Which was, of course, exactly what happened. And who was standing on the other side of that door?

  Jenna.

  So much for trusting Bryan.

  Jenna stared at him. He had his hands all over that girl’s backside. Right there. In the hallway. Where anyone could see them.

  Her included.

  And she’d been worried about ruining her reputation? Bryan was going to ruin it for her.

  “Jenna.”

  Yeah, he better look guilty. ’Cause he was. The snake.

  “Jen, is that—?” Cathy peered over her shoulder.

  “Yeah. It is.” She hustled Cathy back the way they’d come. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  “Hey, wait a minute. I want to see the show. I thought you did, too.”

  “I’ve seen enough of a show back there, thankyouverymuch.”

  “Hmmm, sounds like someone’s jealous.”

  That got her to stop. “I am not jealous.”

  “Then why are we leaving? If you’re not jealous, you shouldn’t care that Bryan’s feeling some girl up.”

  Leave it to Cathy to put it in its most crude terms. But yeah, feeling up a dancer in the middle of a hallway where anyone could see was a bit crude.

  A lot crude.

  “Come on, Jen, chill out. I’m sure there was a logical explanation for what he was doing.”

  Jenna arched an eyebrow at her friend. “I thought you said you knew exactly how you got in the position you’re in?”

  “They weren’t having sex back there. Not unless he’s one of those furry people.”

  Okay that got her to laugh. The thought of Bryan having sex with a mascot…

  Not that there was anything wrong with that if that’s what he was into. It’s just that she wasn’t and eeeew, the idea kind of turned her off.

  Which could be a good thing actually. She’d found herself thinking about Bryan way too much after the afternoon they’d spent together.

  That’s why she was here tonight. Cathy had arranged for a babysitter for Bobby since her husband was out of town and she’d decided she and Jenna needed a girls’ night out. And the perfect place to come was BeefCake, Inc.

  Jenna was second-guessing that decision. Especially when Bryan came barreling out of the back.

  “Jenna, wait.” He grabbed her arm and, yeah, she’d wait. The man knew just how to touch her.

  He’d also touched Mindy.

  Jealous much?

  Yes. She was. And there. She admitted it. She was jealous. She wanted him to touch her. To want her. To make love to her like he had with her sister.

  Well, actually, no she didn’t want him to make love to her like he had to Mindy. Hopefully, if she and Bryan ever got to that point, there’d be no drunken fumblings or forgotten names.

  Her body heated at the thought. It’d been way too long since she’d slept with anybody, and with Bryan looking as gorgeous as he did… her pheromones were zeroed in on him like heat-seeking missiles.

  Now there was an image.

  “Jenna, that wasn’t what you think.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, Tamra. She and I weren’t, well, she needed me to help her out of her costume.”

  “Not helping your argument.”

  “Oh. Right. Look, she got sick. They all did. The dancers. They ordered pizza and the cheese is bad or something. They’ve been getting sick for the last hour. I told Tamra to go sleep it off, but she couldn’t get her tail off.”

  There was something vaguely sexual in that statement, but Jenna was willing to let it pass because she believed him. Despite the evidence of her own eyes, his story was strange enough to be true.

  “I swear. That’s all it was. I’ve been running around trying to find replacement dancers, keep the bathrooms clear for them, and manage the general chaos that normally accompanies a show. I was just trying to help her. That’s all.”

  She put a hand on his arm. Involuntarily—okay, maybe not so involuntarily—her fingers flexed on the strong muscles beneath his skin. “It’s okay, Bryan. I understand. Have you had any luck? Is there anything I can do?”

  “Oh my God, yes.” It was his turn to grab her arms. “I hate to ask this, and I wouldn’t if I weren’t in such dire straits, but, yes, there is something you can do. Can you dance? I know it’s been a while, but it’s like riding a bike. The moves will come back. I’m going to be dancing, too. After all, the show must go on.”

  “Da… dance?” Jenna was going to faint. He wanted her to dance? On stage? In front of people?

  And take her clothes off?

  “You can keep all the tips.”

  For money?

  Ohmygod…

  “Uh, Bryan?” Cathy poked her head between them. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Jenna’s out of practice. Probably out of shape, too.”

  Jenna looked at Cathy. Out of shape? She was not out of shape.

  “Plus, there’s her job. She’s got a morals clause and I’m pretty sure stripping falls under the list of things she shouldn’t do.”

  “We’ve got wigs. Theater makeup. No one will ever know it’s her. Not even the other dancers. It’ll be our secret.” He looked at her. “Please, Jenna. I hired that company you used to work for because of recommendations, so I know you’re good. You’d really be helping me out.”

  She couldn’t. Of course she couldn’t. She didn’t know how to dance. Not like a stripper anyway. “I don’t know the routines.”

  “We’re going to be free-styling most of it anyway because only a few of these dancers have worked together. I just need to put bodies up on that stage who know how to move. Please?”

  Bodies. That’s all she was, just another body.

  Spoke volumes about the night Trevor had been conceived.

  Bryan’s cell phone
rang. He took the call. “Connie? No, please don’t tell me that. You’re sure? You can’t get someone to drive you?” He exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No. You’re right. I get it. Yeah, thanks for letting me know.”

  He cursed as he punched the button to end the call. “I’m down two females. Please, Jenna. I’m begging here. I have to give our guests what they want or it’s going to cost all of us. Me, Gage, the dancers who are on their way in, the ones heaving their guts out, the wait staff… Please say you’ll help.”

  But she couldn’t help. She wanted to scream that at the top of her lungs. She didn’t know how to do this.

  Cathy nudged her shoulder. “Go ahead, Jen. You can do this.”

  Oh thanks. Support from the peanut galley who was probably going to be laughing her own ass off while Jenna made the biggest fool out of herself shaking hers.

  “Remember, he’s got wigs and stuff. No one will know it’s you. You can be anyone you want to be. Channel your inner Marilyn.”

  It’d been a joke with them when they were teenagers. They’d stood in each other’s rooms with their hairbrush-microphones, belting out the latest pop song, going all seductive in the way only sixteen-year-olds think is seductive, channeling Marilyn Monroe’s famous stance over the air grate.

  “Hey, we have a Marilyn costume,” said Bryan, looking way too perky at the idea.

  Cathy smiled. “See? It’s fate.”

  “Your name isn’t fate,” Jenna muttered as she went to follow Bryan. “Paybacks are a bitch.”

  Cathy raised her eyebrows. “My name also isn’t Payback.”

  “Very funny.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I think I’ll be laughing a whole lot this evening.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jenna was going to be as sick as the rest of the dancers—and she hadn’t eaten any of the pizza.

  She couldn’t do this. She kept saying it, but no one would listen to her.

  The fact that she only said it inside her head might have something to do with that, but still… she couldn’t strip in front of people down to the tassels some girl named Desiree had glued to her nipples and the teensy tiny thong that barely covered the landing strip she’d thankfully let Cathy talk her into getting when Cathy’s belly had first started to pudge out. Cathy had wanted to feel sexy and had wanted Jenna to do the same.