I follow Merrick to the same office where Symphony and I had to wait for the furor to die down after I flashed the bar months ago. My cheeks heat, remembering that night.
Of course, he won’t want me to dance for the club. They were out of control after that.
But I don’t have to strip. I can just dance. Maybe I should mention that.
“I don’t have to get naked,” I say as we enter his office.
He whirls around. “What?”
I realize I’m talking completely out of context. “Not now, I mean. I’m not talking about now.”
He’s even more confused. “What?”
“I mean, if you get a pole. I don’t have to striptease. I mean, I will if you want me to. I mean, if you want it to happen for the club. Oh, gosh.” I’m really messing this up.
“Maybe start over?” He takes my purse from me, drops it into a drawer of his desk, and then locks it.
“I’m remembering that when I flashed the club, it got out of hand. I was thinking that if you were worried about me stripping on the pole, I wouldn’t have to do that. I could just dance.”
Merrick perches on the edge of his desk, his arms crossed over his chest. “They might expect you to strip. That’s typical at a bar.”
“Do you think that would be safe?” I gesture to the office. “Symphony and I got stuck back here just for a quick flash.”
His gaze shifts to the top of my tank. My cleavage! It exists! Then back to my face. “I was mainly giving you a place to practice away from the club. We can figure out the public part of it later, and only if we want to.”
“You mean … after hours?”
“Sure. It would be safe here. Lots of space.”
“But I’m always escorted by Wild Hair.”
“I could be your escort when you practice.”
My body starts to heat. “Like for class.”
He nods, his gaze holding mine. “But only us.”
“Just us.” Now, I’m on fire.
“I enjoy watching you,” he says. “You’re good.”
“I am?”
“Really good.” His eyes drift down, taking in my tank top, the short skirt, and my legs. “What would you wear to practice?”
I manage to swallow. “Something like I had on before. Unless you wanted me to put on something else.”
“You have lots of dancing outfits?”
“I picked up a few. Most of them are athletic wear, but …” My cheeks pink up at the thought of the first outfit I bought when I performed my embarrassingly bad audition at a strip club.
“But?”
“I bought a thing. A different thing once.”
“Tell me about it.”
My breath is shallow. “I, uh, chose red. To, you know, stand out.”
