Wound Up. Kelli Ireland
the club as a partner, and one of those things was that the next dancer had to be ready and waiting off stage in order to prevent delays. Despite Justin’s irritation, he had to admit it worked well. They’d been able to add in two extra routines a night, and that meant higher revenues for everyone involved. Still, it didn’t do anything for his butterflies other than give them sharp-edged wings.
The dark-haired man glanced over. “Seems odd this is your last regular weekend.”
“Yeah.” Justin ran a hand around his neck and pulled hard enough his arm shook with the strain. “It won’t change too much, though.”
“We’ll see.”
Assessing the crowd, Justin’s gaze skipped from face to face as he considered his routine. He recognized a few regulars who tipped well. He’d work their seats hard. A couple of tables sported bride sashes and tiaras—wedding groups were always good money. Those were added to his front list. The rest of the tables were crowded with unfamiliar faces. He’d watch those customers, see how they responded to him and react accordingly.
Guilt burned in his belly. This was the part he hated, casing the crowd like some damn dollar-bill desperado, deciding who was worth the bulk of his time after just a couple of quick passes.
He’d learned the skill on the streets, how to single out the best chump or the weakest link. Using that skill now left him feeling tainted, as if he was selling not only his body but his hard-won integrity, as well. Such a long way he’d come, climbing out of the gutter only ten years ago. It was a lifetime and just yesterday.
“Does it ever bother you?” he asked quietly. “What we do?”
Levi didn’t look at him when he answered but kept his eyes on the crowd. “No. We’re feeding a fantasy for them, a craving to desire and be desired. As a psychologist, you know that better than any of us.” When Justin didn’t immediately answer, the taller man glanced his way. “What’s bugging you?”
“Not sure.”
“You need to get laid.”
Justin grinned and shook his head. “That’s your answer for everything.”
“I’m serious. When was the last time you got some?”
“Been a while.”
“You don’t even remember, do you?”
Justin shrugged uncomfortably. “I just got a bed. What was I supposed to do before that, Levi? Ask a woman if she wanted to go back to my empty place and fool around on the floor? That was bound to garner a hell of a lot of yeses.”
Levi turned to him. “You have to blow off some steam, enjoy life a little more than you have over the past, oh, decade plus. You’ve done nothing but take care of your family and go to school. You worked your ass off and you’ve made it, man. Monday begins a new chapter in your life. Take tonight and just enjoy yourself. Once every ten years or so won’t kill you.”
“Funny.” But Justin knew Levi was at least partially right. He’d done nothing but work: as a student and teacher’s assistant on campus during the day and as a stripper Thursday through Saturday nights. There hadn’t been time for indulgences.
Looking over the crowd, his gaze landed on a stunning auburn-haired woman. Bright, cat-shaped eyes tilted up at the corners. She wore very little makeup. Full lips, high cheekbones, pert nose, an elegant neck—everything he could see made his blood hum through his veins. She smiled at the woman beside her, revealing a flash of white teeth and a single dimple.
“Well, what do you know,” he murmured. It was Grace Cooper, the only student who had ever come close to convincing him to break the ethics clause in his teaching assistant’s contract with the university. And she hadn’t even been aware she was doing it. She’d just shown up to class and been beautiful, lusciously curvy and decidedly brilliant.
They’d flirted—a brush of a hand here, a gentle touch there, an undisguised look caught before it was cloaked. He’d come so close to asking her out. She had been everything he’d wanted in a woman. Still was. And the want was still there, burning just beneath the surface.
But he was no longer her instructor, no longer bound by honor to keep his desires to himself. He could pursue her. Here. Tonight. Now.
His previous plan went out the window as he mentally amended his routine. “I’m switching gears,” he said to Levi. “Tell the DJ to cue up the song for my new set. And I’m going to need a chair.”
The other man shifted to see what Justin was staring at. He whistled. “Hottie at one o’clock.”
Justin stepped into Levi’s line of sight. “One warning—hands off.”
Levi grinned and held his hands out, palms open. “Got it.”
“Great. Now get me a chair and make sure the DJ switches up the song.”
Justin’s conscience reared, ready to argue, but lust sucker-punched the bastard before it could draw a solid breath. He’d played by the rules for the past three years where she was concerned. And this was his last night before he joined the eight-to-five world. Once, just once, he wanted to live a little.
For the first time in his life, taking it off felt as natural as breathing.
* * *
GRACE COOPER SANK back in her chair and pushed her mass of hair over one shoulder. This had been the best possible way to spend the weekend. Hands down. Stealing some down time and allowing herself to splurge for once had been critical to her mental health. As an almost psychologist, she would know.
She’d spent the day wandering the waterfront with her friends. Pike Place had the most amazing flower market, and she’d caved, buying a bouquet of daisies for the kitchen. Then there had been the crepe restaurant for dinner. Holy. Crow. So good. She was still full. And now this, the pinnacle of the weekend. Gorgeous men taking their clothes off, a little benign flirting and some innocent fun with her girlfriends before they left the city and started careers in different parts of the country.
Meg, her best friend, leaned over and tapped her shoulder. “Best. Idea. Ever.”
Grace laughed. “You need a bib. You’ve got a little something right—” she dragged her thumb across Meg’s chin “—there.”
Meg grimaced as heat burned across her cheeks. “Did you see Nick?”
“Just as much of him as you did.”
“I’ve never seen a man move that way.” Meg fanned herself. “I’d come back frequently if I wasn’t moving to Baltimore.”
“And I’ll be following you as soon as this practicum is over.” Grabbing her margarita, she took a healthy sip.
Two weeks. After that, she had some decisions to make. The kinds of decisions she’d been looking forward to making for as long as she could remember. She was moving to Baltimore with Meg, completely stepping away from the life she’d been trapped in since birth and becoming something, someone, more. All she’d ever wanted was the ability to choose for herself who she’d be instead of living as an unwanted by-product of her mother’s environment and choices.
Determination was all she’d had to see her through the hard years, the hungry nights, the lonely holidays. And if determination had carried her this far, there was no reason to think it wouldn’t carry her as far as she wanted to go. She’d carve out her own niche, do something special after a life that had been less than noteworthy. If only she could figure out what, and where, her niche was. There wasn’t room to make a mistake—not with the deferment of her student-loan payments ending and her housing situation dire for the next two weeks.
Frowning into her glass, she fought the urge to curse. She’d been forced to move in with her mother when the man she and Meg had been subletting their apartment from returned from his Doctors Without Borders trip early. It wasn’t a big deal for Meg; she’d just gone home. It was