The lights shifted, softened, and the chatter died. This time Julia didn’t introduce the act, but remained behind the scenes.
The curtains glided open and Ryan let out a soft groan. “In a minute, mate, you’ll know exactly how I feel every time my wife dances.”
Two masked dancers—both redheads—stood in the middle of circles of rose light. Large pink feathers flickered enticingly in front of their bodies, revealing and concealing, never ceasing their graceful arcs. The dancers’ mirrored each other.
“Susan is on the right,” Christina whispered.
Immediately Tyler’s gaze settled on her, his emotions swinging wildly from conservative to radical. He couldn’t take his eyes off her yet part of him wanted to jump on stage and whisk her away. His eyes only.
As one, the dancers reached behind their backs. Two flamingo pink bra tops flew into the audience. Eager hands grasped the tops and cheers rang out from the victorious recipients.
On stage, long legs flashed and the next minute two pairs of neon pink panties flew in their direction. Ryan caught one pair and grinned while the other pair landed right in front of Tyler.
“You’d better grab those or Caleb will beat you to them,” Connor said with a knowing smirk.
Tyler reached for the pink panties, briefly wondered what to do with his prize. Finally, he stuffed them in his jacket pocket while he kept his gaze glued to Susan. Pressure grew in his chest—apprehension. He waited for the fans to go in the wrong direction, waited for the flash of a butt or bare breasts. Susan’s naked body.
“Don’t worry,” Christina whispered. “They’ve done this dance heaps of times. No one will get a peek.”
Tyler hoped she was right. He found himself mesmerized by the flirty movements, the arch of bodies and the sexy smiles beneath the black masks. The music crashed to a finale and the spotlights flicked out, leaving a black stage and silence. Then enthusiastic applause broke out and Tyler slumped back in his chair.
Both men and women gave an enthusiastic response to the dance. There were a few wolf whistles, more lewd comments.
“I bet those two women are horny after all that teasin’,” a man at a nearby table said in a loud voice.
Tyler tensed.
“I think I might head back to the dressing room and take on both of them. My big cock is more than capable of the job.”
Tyler half stood, but Ryan reached out to grasp his arm. “Don’t bother wasting your energy.”
Christina wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, guys who mouth off like that usually have dicks the size of walnuts.”
Tyler half spluttered at the insult and sank onto his chair. Ryan was right. Creating a scene wouldn’t solve a thing. “How do you cope with other men lusting after your wife?”
“She’s not interested in other men, and she comes home to me.” Ryan hesitated and seemed to consider his words carefully. “I do a lot of traveling with my job, so the trust needs to go both ways. Besides, Julia loves working at the club and enjoys dancing. No one recognizes the dancers when they’re dressed in their normal clothes. The costumes and masks do the job of concealing identities.”
Tyler gave a swift nod of acknowledgement and picked up his drink to swallow the last mouthful. Even though he hadn’t known Susan long, their exchange of emails had covered a broad gamut. She loved to dance, and trying to change that—take dancing away from her—simply because he couldn’t handle audience comments would shoot this budding relationship to the no-way-in-hell pile.
He needed to work past his possessiveness. Besides, he didn’t have the right to quash talent. It would be like someone telling him he could never paint again, could never pick up a pencil to sketch a portrait of his daughter.
“They were incredible,” he said. “Maxwell’sis a slick operation.”
“Thank you,” a soft voice said. “Susan is taking care of a last minute panic with the change. She won’t be long and then we can go.” Julia turned to Christina. “You have our number if you need us.”
“Here’s Susan now,” Christina said, making shooing motions with her hand. “We’ve got this. We can’t do much damage in one night. Go. Go.”
Susan stopped beside Tyler. “What did you think?”
“You were great. I’m going to frame that pair of pink panties.” He grinned at her, his protectiveness easing now that she stood at his side. He had more important things to worry about, such as his brother’s unpredictable antics. “How did you manage to land them in the right place?”
She grinned. “Julia and I have a lot of practice. Plus we have a private competition, an incentive. A poor throw means I have to buy a round of margaritas the next time we have a girl’s night out.”
Tyler grinned down at her and unable to resist, bent his head to snatch a quick kiss.
Maggie poked him in the ribs. “That’s enough of that. The pair of you can cuddle on the dance floor. Besides”—she lowered her voice—“someone will recognize Susan and wonder what’s going on with her kissing a man who isn’t Nolan.”
Fuck, she was right. Tyler drew back sharply. “I’m sorry.”
