Julia got it, and a bloom of emotion warmed her through. In their unsubtle way her friends were telling Ryan they had her back. “Fine,” she said, squeezing Ryan’s hand to still his protest. “Maggie is right. I have a lot to do, and I can’t afford distractions.”
“Fine.” He threw her reply back at her. “We’ll share a table at breakfast, but I get a goodnight kiss.”
“That sounds fair,” Maggie said, puckering up in Ryan’s direction.
“Only if you want a spanking,” Connor said sternly.
“Yes, please.” Maggie smirked at her husband, one eye closing in a sexy wink.
Susan clapped her hands over her ears. “La, la, la, la.”
Julia laughed at Ryan’s confusion. “I’ll explain later.”
“There’s a booth,” Caleb said. “We should be able to squeeze in there.”
“Quick,” Christina said. “Let’s grab it before the people behind us get the same idea.” She took off, gliding between the chairs and tables with real speed.
Ryan’s hand slipped from around Julia’s waist, and she registered the loss straight away. Damn it. She couldn’t act this way. She wasn’t a pushover, yet with Ryan...Focus, girl. This is a business jaunt.
“I don’t understand why they’re restricting admission when there are loads of empty tables,” Susan said.
“They’re playing head games,” Caleb said. “If prospective customers see a line outside a club, they think exclusivity. The owners are playing the snob factor and it’s working for them.”
They crowded into the booth. Julia found herself squeezed against Ryan.
“Relax,” he whispered, slipping his arm around her shoulders. “I only bite in private.”
It was privacy that worried her. He’d burst into her life again today, and already she was toast. Well done, burned to a crisp, toast, her emotions and anger warring with her need to run her hands over his shoulder and tattoo to make sure he was real.
Susan pulled out a notebook and pen. “Observations? Points to remember and discuss later?”
“The staff wears a uniform,” Christina said. “It’s a little blatant for my taste. Uniforms are a clever idea, but they need to aim for sexy and stylish rather than tarty.”
“Music is good,” Caleb contributed. “Lighting is okay, but not very original.”
“That might change once an exotic dancer comes on stage,” Maggie said.
“Service is slow,” Connor said. “I’ll go to the bar. What does everyone want to drink?”
“Wine,” Julia said.
“Let’s get a bottle of Sav Blanc,” Maggie suggested.
The music changed and a dramatic drum roll burst through the speakers. A spotlight highlighted a short, slim man dressed in an elegant navy suit. “Let me present, fresh from the Las Vegas club circuit, Garnet!”
The spot light faded, blacking out the man’s presence. The music changed to subtle and flirty. Tension gripped Julia, herds of butterflies dive-bombing her stomach, trying to work their way out. What if she couldn’t do this? What if she was wasting her efforts on an old dame who was way past her prime?
A red spotlight appeared center stage, highlighting a woman dressed in a dazzling black gown. The woman started to sing, dancing and moving in an enticing manner. A cock of her hips. A pout of plump red lips. She was good with an excellent voice, but Julia thought she could hold her own in a strip off. The singing, not so much, but in the dancing and stripping Julia decided she had an edge.
“You’re better,” Ryan murmured.
“Are you sure? I can’t carry a tune.”
“That doesn’t matter. Lip syncing will work if it’s done properly. Besides, you don’t want to copy them. You need to work out your own business plan and stick to it.”
He was right, she thought, her panic receding. She needed to work on the plans she and her friends had discussed, the ideas she’d had as a teenager and her mother had rejected. This was her chance to put her stamp on the club. First up, she’d rename the clubMaxwell’sin honor of her great-grandparents. A strip club might have been shameful during Victorian times, but social mores changed. If she marketed the place as classy, she’d attract the right customers.
“We need a motto or a tag line for the club,” Julia said.
