by Lori Wilde
But before she could back out, the redhead pushed her into a chair. “Here, I’ll help you with your makeup, but just this once.”
“Th-thank you,” Edie stammered.
The woman slathered her in so much mascara and eyeshadow Edie feared she’d come off looking like a circus clown. But when she looked into the mirror, she couldn’t believe the creature that peered back.
She looked exotic, worldly, and very desirable.
Her fears evaporated. She was going out there, and she was going to dance for no one but Jonah.
A statuesque brunette appeared from behind a curtain, perspiring and wiping her face with a towel. She turned to Edie. “You’re on.”
“Wait,” the redhead said, slipping off her own six-inch heels and tossing them to Edie. “You’ll need these.”
Edie slipped on the heels and teetered before the curtain. She took a deep breath and sucked in her tummy.
“Go on.” The redhead shoved her through the curtain, and Edie found herself on stage with two other women.
And she simply stood there.
“Brick House” blasted from the stereo system.
“Hey, baby,” some guy from the audience leered. “Shake it!”
The stage lights blinded her. She couldn’t see the audience, but she could hear them out there—breathing.
Her courage slipped, and she almost turned and ran.
And then she remembered Jonah.
Slowly, Edie began to rotate her hips.
Jonah’s watching. Show him what you’ve got. Show him you can strip with the best of them.
Then for his benefit alone, she danced.
EDIE?
Thunderstruck, Jonah’s mouth dropped open.
It couldn’t be.
He rubbed his eyes with both fists. That woman had been on his mind so much he was imagining she was up there dancing on the stage for him in the most incredible little getup ever created.
Blinking, he looked again.
She was coming closer, moving as graceful as a swan, arching her back, circling her hips, giving him a come-hither smile.
It was Edie!
But how? Why?
For a second, he sat frozen, stunned by her mesmerizing beauty and her unexpected act.
Then he realized that every lecherous eye in the place was trailing down her fine, firm body, and a surge of hot, red jealousy shot through him.
In an instant, he was on his feet, pulling his coat from the back of his chair, and heading straight toward her.
JONAH WAS COMING AT her, a grim, determined expression on his face—his jaw set, his blue eyes blazing fire.
Edie squealed and backed up.
He didn’t look happy.
Not one bit.
In one long-legged stride, he stepped on the bottom of an empty chair next to the stage, then onto the tabletop, and from there, onto the stage itself.
“Come here,” he commanded.
Edie raised her palms. “What are you doing?”
“No woman of mine is going to parade herself naked in front of a bunch of slobbering strangers.”
“I’m not your woman,” she declared, planting her hands on her hips and staring him in the eyes. She stood up to him, defied his high-handedness, but her heart was pit-patting like the revved-up rhythm section of a world-class band. She had inspired this macho performance in him.
And he’d said that she was his woman.
Why should that make her feel so warm and happy and terribly afraid she was going to screw things up?
Customers were booing, yelling at Jonah to get off the stage. From the corner of her eye, Edie saw a man approaching from the back of the darkened room.
Jonah stalked after her.
Edie turned to run.
But the six-inch heels were her undoing. She misstepped and teetered precariously at the edge of the stage.
“Gotcha,” Jonah said, snaking an arm around her waist and throwing his coat over her body.
His breath was warm against her cheek, his lips oh so close, his brow pulled together in a deep, disapproving frown.
He looked mad enough to take her over his knee and spank her bare bottom.
Damn her for being thrilled about that.
He picked her up as if she were no heavier than whipped cream and tossed her over his shoulder.
“Put me down,” she insisted. She wasn’t into this Neanderthal, me-Tarzan-you-Jane scenario. She was a modern, independent—if somewhat sheltered—woman, and if she chose to dance at a strip club, that was none of Jonah Stevenson’s business.
Apparently, however, he was making her his business.
Edie squirmed against his shoulder, but he held her firmly in place with one hand pressed to her back.
The crowd, from her upside-down vantage point, looked weird. Their faces a mix of displeasure and laughter. Male voices whooped and hollered, and then another man hopped up on the stage and went after another dancer.
Chaos ensued.
Men shouted. Tables tipped. Glass shattered. Women screamed.
“Call the cops,” someone yelled.
Never missing a step, Jonah calmly carried her off the stage.
Only to find his passage blocked by the burly man who’d mistaken Edie for a stripper. He had his hands folded over his massive chest.
Edie peered around Jonah’s shoulder. Uh-oh. The guy—who resembled a large chunk of granite—looked really mad.
“Put her down,” the burly man insisted.
“Out of my way, buddy,” Jonah growled.
“Look what you caused.” Granite-chunk swept a hand at the discord around them. “You can’t touch the strippers.”
“She is not a stripper,” Jonah said. “She’s my girlfriend.”
First, she was his woman, and now she was his girlfriend. Hmm. If she kept upgrading at this rate, the next thing she’d be was his wife.
And unfortunately, that wasn’t an entirely unpleasant thought either.
“Put her down. I don’t want to have to tell you again.” Granite-chunk moved closer.
“Get out of my way,” Jonah said. “I’m taking her home.”
Edie was getting nervous, with her fanny sticking in the air and these two massive men standing nose to nose, within seconds of duking it out.
Holding her as he was, Jonah was at a disadvantage. When he tried to sidestep around Granite-chunk, the guy doubled up a powerful fist and punched Jonah solidly in the eye.
Jonah’s head shot back. His knees wobbled. Edie gasped.
He let her slip to her feet.
Edie turned on Granite-chunk. “You big bully! You didn’t have to hit him.”
“Hey,” Granite-chunk said. “Don’t start with me. I was only doing my job.”
Swaying slightly, Jonah placed a hand to his eye, which was swelling rapidly.
“Don’t just stand there,” Edie snapped at Granite-chunk. “Get me an ice pack.”
Dumbfounded, the guy blinked at her.
“Go on.”
He moved away.
Edie turned her attention to Jonah. She pulled up a nearby chair. “Sit.”
He shook his head. “Not until you put on my coat.”
The coat he’d wrapped her in when he’d carted her off the stage had fallen to the floor.
“Okay.” Edie shrugged into the coat. It smelled of him. Musky. Male. Nice. “Now sit down.”
He obeyed.
The music had stopped, and the shouting had started to die down, but Edie didn’t notice. Tenderly, she touched his eye. “You’re going to have quite a shiner.”
“That hurts,” he complained.
“Ah, poor baby.”
Jonah glared at her. “Hey, I’m the one who rescued you.”
“I never asked you to save me. I’m not some helpless damsel.”
“Why is that, Edie? Because you’re the only one who can rescue people? What’s the deal? Don’t you ever need anything from anyone?”
“Hush,” s
he admonished.
Carl Dawson came over to them. “Wow, Jonah. That was so cool the way you went up on stage and dragged Edie off.”
She lasered a chilly gaze at him. “Don’t encourage this sort of behavior, Carl.”
“When did you start dancing, Edie? If I’d known you did this on the side, I would have come in here a long time ago.” Carl wriggled his eyebrows.
“Shut up, Carl. Before you’re sporting a shiner to match this one,” Jonah growled.
In the distance they heard sirens. The police were on their way.
“Maybe you and Kyle and Harry should get out of here,” she suggested to Carl.
“You’re probably right. But how will Jonah get home?”
“I’ll drive him.”
One eyebrow went up on Carl’s forehead. “You sure?”
“I’ll be fine,” Jonah said.
Carl raised a hand. “Okay then, see you tomorrow, caveman.”
Edie rolled her eyes.
Then, to her surprise, Granite-chunk appeared with an ice pack. She thanked him nicely and pressed the pack to Jonah’s eye.
“We better get out of here too,” he said.
“No, we’ll just explain to the cops what happened.”
“I don’t really want to talk to the cops.” He shook his head.
Right. Jonah had secrets she knew nothing about.
“Let’s go out the back way,” he suggested.
“Yes, I need to pick up my clothes and purse.”
Edie took his hand and led Jonah through the back entrance. The club patrons had already cleared out considerably, leaving a huge mess behind.
Once in the dressing room, Edie was dismayed to find a man and a woman locked in a passionate embrace on top of her clothes.
“Oh, excuse me,” she said.
They ignored her completely.
She cleared her throat. How was she going to get her clothes out from under them?
The sirens wailed louder, sounding as if they were almost in the parking lot.
“No time to waste,” Jonah said and scooped her into his arms.
“What are you doing?”
“You can’t walk in those damned shoes.”
“But what about my things?” Well, at least she had her purse. She’d stuck it in the drawer of the vanity.
“We’ll worry about that later.” He carried her out the back door, Edie trying to keep the ice pack pressed to his eye.
He staggered into the parking lot.
“I’ll drive us,” she said.
“No way, sweetheart. That’s alcohol I smell on your breath.”
“Oh yeah, you’re right. I had two Slow Comfortable Screws.”
“So that’s what got into you.” He grinned and despite his battered eye, or maybe because of it, he looked so sexy. Was this guy rugged or what?
“I don’t even feel it anymore.” She looked up into those blue eyes and felt the pull of something inexplicable inside her. Still, he seemed desperate to avoid law enforcement authorities. Why? She didn’t really want to know the answer.
“I called an Uber while you were looking for your clothes,” Jonah said. “Looks like that’s him.”
He stepped out into the street carrying Edie at the same time two patrol cars screeched to a stop in the club parking lot.
The Uber pulled over, and they tumbled into the back seat at the same moment the police stormed into the strip club.
“Whew,” Jonah breathed, lolling his head against the back seat of the car and closing his eyes. “That was a close call.”
Chapter Eleven
They were going to his house.
He and Edie.
Together.
Alone.
She in that devastatingly skimpy outfit, covered only by his overcoat. Jonah swallowed a groan. He didn’t think he could take much more of this.
He wanted her with a fierceness that scared him.
She settled against the seat and glanced over at him. “Put the ice pack back on your eye.”
“It’s cold.”
“Are you always so whiny?”
“Only when I think it will get me attention.” He gave her his most endearing grin.
She wasn’t impressed. “Ice. On your eye. Now. Before it blows up as big as the Goodyear Blimp.”
“Yes’m. Anybody ever tell you that you’re sexy when you’re giving orders.”
“Ice pack,” she threatened.
“Okay, okay.”
He pressed the heavy pack to his tender eye. Ouch. He didn’t know whether his fuzziness was due to the warmth of the car’s heater or the comfort of Edie’s nearness, but leaning back with his eyes closed, Jonah must have fallen asleep.
It seemed as if mere seconds later the Uber pulled to a stop outside his house, and Edie was nudging him with an elbow.
“We’re here.”
“Oh, yeah.” He shook his head, and the ice pack plopped wetly into his lap. “Sure.”
“Where’s your house key?” She stood on his front sidewalk, shivering in the damp night air. He wanted to put his arms around her, hold her close, warm her up.
He removed the key from his pocket and handed it to her.
She trotted up the steps ahead of him, her skyscraper high heels striking the cement with a provocative click-clack noise.
Even in his damaged state, Jonah couldn’t help admiring her legs in those dangerous shoes. Her gams went up and up and up until they disappeared beneath the hem of his coat.
Damn, but she looked gorgeous wearing his clothes. He would love to see her in one of his long-sleeved, white dress shirts. Or his cowboy hat and nothing else at all.
Unlocking the door, she pushed it open, then stepped over the threshold and flicked on the light. She stood illuminated in the doorway like some otherworldly sprite, crooking a provocative finger at him.
“Come in where it’s warm.”
He obeyed, following her inside and kicking the door closed with his foot, his heart hammering so hard he feared it might spring from his chest.
Physical desire for her crashed over him in an unstoppable tidal wave. He couldn’t take his eyes from her. He admired the way her bottom swished beneath the stiff fabric of his coat, envisioned the sweet, naked body beneath.
Soft curving breasts. A tiny high waist. Hips that sloped like gently rolling hills.
Mama mia! He needed hosing down with a fire extinguisher.
Every sexual fantasy he’d ever had about a woman was rolled up into this one compact, exquisite little package. And it seemed as if he’d been waiting for her his entire life.
WITH TREMBLING HANDS, Edie washed up in Jonah’s bathroom sink. Raising her head, she peered at herself in the mirror and catalogued her features.
Wide green eyes made even larger by an overuse of mascara, mussed amber hair, lips painted the most blatant color of scarlet, cheeks shaded with excess rouge.
A real hottie.
A fox.
A babe.
Nouns she’d never applied to herself. She didn’t recognize this woman.
The lady in the mirror was a sexy siren. The type men did crazy things for—like marching onto a stage and slinging her over their shoulders. This woman was a naughty femme fatale.
Where was good girl, Edie Preston?
She looked down at Jonah’s coat and the towel in her hand. For the first time in her life, she felt confused about her identity.
Shaking off the sensation, Edie dried her hands and stepped from the bathroom. She had to get out of here as soon as she could.
She was having some very unprofessional thoughts about Jonah, and if she lingered, she feared what might happen between them. She’d stay just long enough to make sure that he was going to be all right, and then she’d call another Uber.
She found Jonah where she’d left him, sitting on the living room couch, the ice pack clutched to his right eye. She sat beside him, then reached up and removed the ice pack. The room seemed very small and intima
te. She had never been so aware of proximity to another human being.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“For what?”
“Causing this.”
He shook his head. “You didn’t cause anything.”
“Just the blackening of your eye and the destruction of a bar.”
“May I ask you a question?”
She shrugged. “Sure.”
“What were you doing at the club tonight?”
Edie didn’t answer.
“You were following me again, weren’t you?”
“Yes,” she admitted.
“Why?”
“I was worried about you. Hanging out with Carl and Kyle and Harry. They’ve all three been to prison. I know they’re trying to turn their lives around, and I’m struggling not to be judgmental. But a strip club is hardly the place to start. I’m sure you’re aware that by simply being in that place, they were violating their parole. I’d hate to see you get involved in something unsavory.”
He opened his eyes and stared up at her. His gaze so intent it robbed her of breath. “You really care what happens to me?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Why were you up on that stage?”
“I wanted to see what it was like to take a walk on the wild side. You were right. Tonight, I discovered I really haven’t lived.”
He reached up and wrapped a hand around her wrist.
Instantly, her pulse quickened.
“No, Edie, I was wrong. You don’t have to get into trouble in order to be a good psychologist.” Jonah swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. When he spoke again, his voice was husky. “When I saw you on that stage, gyrating for those barbaric guys, I lost it.”
“I wasn’t dancing for those men. I was gyrating for you.”
“You were?”
“I sat in the audience for a while, watching you watch those other women, and I got jealous. Then when the guy that punched you in the eye mistook me for a stripper, I decided to go along with it.”
“You were taking your clothes off for me?” He smiled.
“Duh!”
“But why?”
“Because I wanted you to want me.”
“I do want you, Edie.” He reached over and took her hand. “What I can’t figure out is, do you want me because I represent a project for you, or do you want the real me? Warts and all.”