Undercover Lovers (19 page)

“
I’m not indiscriminate.
I’ve also never had a one night stand,” she said, crossing her arms
across her chest.

Shane rocked back on his
heels, studying her. Could she be baiting him? Did she test out the
guys personally? Shit, how far could he take this?

Not that sleeping with
Maureen would be any hardship. Even the curve of her jaw made him
want to lean in and lick her fragrant skin. She smelled of honey
and cool green tea, with the slightest hint of melon. A stupidly
expensive perfume no doubt, created to drive men to their
knees.

His stomach growled,
reminding him he’d skipped dinner to get to the club on time. Her
damn
eat me
perfume
wasn’t helping matters.

“
So maybe I’d be better
suited for one of your friends,” he suggested, pushing his free
hand into the pocket of his jeans. He had to work hard to force it
inside the tight fabric. He’d worn his snuggest pair to showcase
his ass, his most notable asset according to several of his
exes.

A grin tipped up his
mouth.
Penguin
notwithstanding.

“
My friends?” She drew her
brows together. “They’re all married or close to it.”

Crafty, wasn’t she? He
shrugged, trying to act as if that didn't faze him. Weren’t married
people the most frequent customers of sexual solicitors? “What’s
your point?”

She shook her head. “Jeez, I
tried to give you the benefit of the doubt.”

“
Why would I need the
benefit of the doubt?”
You’re the damn
madam.

Granted, his instincts had
yet to get onboard with that. This one played sweet and innocent so
well he doubted even his buddies on the force would question her
routine.

Last thing he’d needed to
think about right now were his friends at the cop shop. They’d
accused him of being too susceptible to a pretty face—though that
had only gotten him in trouble once, possibly twice—and easily
influenced by sob stories. According to his former captain, any
cute girl could hoodwink him if she had a nice smile and a tight
butt. If she came with a tale of woe and a desperate plea for help,
even better.

Well, he’d show them. Once
he went to Connor with proof of Maureen’s sideline in high-class
trafficking, he’d become a little richer and enjoy the new
customers his client threw his way, not to mention the hero status
he’d gain by bringing down picturesque Stonybrook, Colorado’s own
notorious madam.

Okay, so Maureen wasn't
notorious yet. But this was his daydream and he could
exaggerate.

“
You’re a stripper. Not
exactly the career path to respectability.”

He clenched his jaw. Even
though he'd become a stripper out of necessity, he took umbrage at
her comment. A couple of the guys he’d met had families. Some were
putting themselves through school. Hardly deadbeats or perverts.
Besides, who was a madam to talk?

“
I used to be a cop,” he
muttered, wishing he could kick his own ass for opening his big
mouth. When would he ever learn?

Yet another reason he made a
crappy police officer.

She laughed, her stiff pose
altering just enough to push her breasts against her top. He
couldn’t see much of them. Damn shame too. A beauty like her
belonged in lacy camisoles and spaghetti straps.

“
Sure you did. Nice way to
honor the badge there.” Her snigger consisted of two parts sexy and
one part irritating as hell. “Just like I used to be a
model.”

“
I believe it.”

“
I’m barely
five-foot-three.”

“
Print model then. You’re
hot. A bit too sharp-tongued for my taste but you wouldn't need to
speak.”

Her cheeks bloomed pink.
“You really expect me to believe a stripper used to be a cock?”
Catching herself, she whispered, “Cop. I meant cop.”

He grinned in spite of
himself. “Still thinking about it, aren’t you?” He moved a fraction
closer, nudging her against her string bean-sized vehicle. “Since
you don’t believe I used to be a cop,” he stressed the word, making
her redden even more, “maybe I should show you my cuffs. Or my
nightstick.”

Her lower lip trembled until
she sucked it between her teeth. “I have my own
nightstick.”

“
Oh, do you?” Shane tried
and failed to keep the fascination out of his tone. He couldn’t
afford to be interested in her beyond his investigation. He also
couldn’t seem to help it.

She thrust her plastic bag
into his chest, the keys wedged between the fingers of her other
hand holding him at bay. He opened the bag and withdrew a narrow
wand with an on/off button. Just as he'd guessed.

He pried off the lid, noted
the lack of batteries. “Looks like you’re out.”

“
It was a bachelorette party
favor. I doubt I’ll ever use it.”

The way she wrinkled her
nose made him laugh. Damn, she took cute to a whole new
level.
Weakness alert.
“You don’t use a vibrator? Why not?”

She clamped down on her
lower lip so hard he figured he’d get no reply and possibly a
key-enhanced punch to boot. “I prefer the real thing.”

“
So why are we still
standing here talking?”

Emma shoved the nightstick
inside her bag. How had this all spiraled so out of control? She’d
approached him to apologize for feeling him up and instead of
acting affronted, he’d seemed happy to see her.

As if he’d been waiting. As
if he’d even been looking for her.

Men like him didn’t look for
women like her. Her hair wasn’t long and slinky and she didn’t wear
sexy lingerie that dripped like liquid lace off her tits and
ass.

She
wore plain cotton. Today she’d chosen her white granny panties
to go with her equally non-seductive white bra.

“
I don’t need to get laid,”
she said it almost like a mantra, in the hopes of convincing
herself.

She’d been all for a wild
night of sex, until this guy strutted off stage and shook his giant
pleasure tool in her face. Becky’s potion still trickled through
her veins, probably why arousal already dampened her thighs. That
didn't take into consideration the dark-fringed eyes that stared so
perceptively into her own. She couldn’t see the color in the dark
but she knew she’d never forget that stormy steel gray any more
than she could forget the impressive cock she’d held for all of
five seconds.

She hadn’t held nearly
enough of them in her twenty-nine years but his had to be an
exemplary specimen of its kind. Firm, long, thick…an instrument he
probably used to induce female ecstasy on a frequent
basis.

He stepped closer and
threaded his fingers through her curls. She came scarily close to
mewling. “Let's try this again. Do you
want
to get laid?”

“
I don’t know
you.”

“
Name’s Shane.”

“
Shane. That sounds like a
stripper’s name. Not a cop’s.” She twisted her mouth into a smile.
“Is that a stage name?”

“
No. It’s my real name.
Thanks a lot, by the way.”

“
For what?”

“
For telling me my
grandfather’s name fits a stripper.”

“
Oh. Oops.” Her smile
widened. “If it makes you feel better, you’re not a very good
one.”

“
Third night on the job.” He
blew out a breath. “I don’t like to dance. Pay’s decent, though I’m
always up for better pay. Not to mention easier, more fun ways to
earn it.” The flex of his hips against hers elicited gasps from
them both. “Christ, you’re soft.”

That made her laugh. “Women
usually are. Been a while?” She risked a glance at his massive
hard-on now pressing against her belly. “Sucks, doesn’t it? Though
I bet you could get laid every night if you wanted to.”

“
Only if the price is
right,” he muttered, the words lacking conviction.

“
Price?” Even without much
experience, she didn't think that sounded kosher. “You’re not one
of those gigolos, are you?” Then as a completely scandalous idea
took hold, she waved her purse. “Do you take credit cards? I bet
your pony would be worth a ride.”

He yanked on one of her
curls, drawing her head back until his face loomed disturbingly
close to hers. The scent of mint gum wafted between them, reminding
her she’d seen him chewing while he was dancing.

Maybe he’d been nervous. Did
strippers-slash-gigolos get nervous?

“
I’d do you for free,” he
said softly. “But only twice.”

Being willing to “do her for
free” was hardly a compliment. Her face warmed anyway. “Why only
twice? Tight schedule?”

“
The more you do something,
the more likely you are to get addicted.” His callused fingers
smoothed along the shell of her ear. “I don’t think you can afford
me, princess.”

He had to be kidding.
Despite the whole stripping thing, Shane didn’t seem skanky. Clean
cut, decently dressed, clear-eyed. No signs of drug use or anything
nefarious. But he more than filled the requirements for
one-night-stand material.

Maybe serendipity—and her
best friend’s big mouth—had dropped exactly what she’d been hoping
for right in her lap. She probably shouldn’t be happy she’d
accidentally imbibed Dr. Becky’s latest lab creation. But if it led
to a night she’d never forget…

“
So…credit cards?” She met
his gaze. “Do you take them or not?”

He touched her mouth, just a
skim of fingertips. She still shivered as if he’d dragged the edge
of his teeth down her spine. “Maybe we should talk some more
first.”

“
Talk,” she repeated. Sure,
right. Didn’t that figure? Her entertainment for the night wanted
to
talk
. He’d
probably somehow discovered she had on granny panties. “You know,
I’m really good in bed,” she added.

His quick grin shot right to
her nipples. “Thank you for the heads up.”

“
You took care of that all
on your own, Stripper Shane.”

His grin turned sheepish.
“You’re cute,” he said as if that explained everything.

“
So are you,” she said,
feeling bolder than she ever had before. Her inner wild woman was
mere inches and layers of durable cotton away from letting
loose.

Watch out, world.

“
So you don’t have one night
stands yet now you’re bragging how amazing you are in
bed.”

 “
I’m a contradiction
wrapped in an enigma sandwiched in—”

“
I get the point.” He
grinned again and glanced at his watch. “How do you feel about
nachos?”

Nachos. Right. Maybe Becky’s
magical drug cocktail had increased her desire for sex but it sure
hadn’t magnified her desirability. This guy really added a whole
new dimension to running hot and cold.

“
With jalapeños?” She heard
herself ask.

“
Is there any other
kind?”

Twenty minutes later, they
were seated in a sports bar on the outskirts of town. Armed with
her can of mugger spray, she’d accepted his offer of a ride though
she’d been wary about getting into a vehicle with a man she didn’t
know.

Yet she was willing to sleep
with him. That probably proved her decision-making skills needed
some work. She’d just worry about that when she wasn’t loaded up
with sex boosters.

They sat in a corner booth
then ordered drinks and a couple appetizers. The place was
relatively quiet for a Friday night, especially in this particular
corner. She intended to take advantage of that.

Maybe she should take off
her bra? Even with her staid top, her nipples were so overly
sensitive he’d have to notice. If they were right there under the
silky fabric, he wouldn’t be able to ignore them. Or she could
always accidentally spill her glass of ice. She’d already drained
her iced tea. She always drank when nervous and the way Shane
studied her without any concern for the baseball game playing on
the screen behind her left her feeling lightheaded.

“
So,” he said, sipping his
glass of soda. “What brings you to Strippendales?”

She tossed her hair,
remembering belatedly she didn’t have much to toss. Damn that cut
she’d gotten two weeks ago. “Buxom bride Becky wanted
strippers.”

“
Understandable.” His face
remained unchanged but she heard the smirk in his voice.

“
She’s a doctor,” she said,
leaning her cheek on her hand. Her cheeks were warm. Typical sign
she’d had something to drink. Two sips and she became a flushed
mess. “Chemist actually,” she added. “Very accomplished in her
field. Works hard, plays harder.”

“
She’s getting married
tomorrow?”

“
In two weeks. She met the
guy on the internet. They both play chess.”

“
Ah. Okay.”

The likelihood he’d pegged
her as a weirdo was high. If she kept talking and didn’t go for it
soon, she’d probably run out of chances to coax him into bed—up
against the wall?—before he got annoyed.