“What do you need from us?” Sheila rose, clipboard in hand.
“At this point, just a space to learn.” With less than thirteen hours, Charley had a lot to accomplish. “Wyatt? Do you have a more private room for Lily and me?”
He nodded. “Sheila? Will you escort them to the study? We’ve got it all set up for you.”
Wyatt hesitated. “Ah…” He turned to Cael.
“I told him to go ahead.” Cael crossed his arms over his chest.
“Don’t you need that information?” Confusion reigned with the incline of Wyatt’s head and how he slid his hands into his pockets.
“I’ll get it on the plane. If I’m going to dance as Candie, I need to get ready.” Charley pointed to James and Cael and followed after Sheila with Lily in tow.
Charley caught the slight turn of Wyatt’s head as Sheila’s heels clipped through the bright room. Three doors and two hallways later, they entered the study. Books lined the walls at least ten feet high. Charley counted eight shelves from floor to ceiling and at least ten sets of them. Walnut or cherry, she couldn’t tell, but their beauty befit the home. Within the room, couches and comfortable seating held court. In the center, the pole.
“Can we move furniture?” Charley asked.
Sheila pushed at the back of a chair. “Absolutely. Whatever you want or need.”
“Thank you, Sheila.” Wyatt stood at the door, holding Charley’s bags in both hands. “I thought you’d need these.”
“Thanks, Wyatt.” Lily walked over, hefted the bags in one move and placed them in the opposite corner.
“Wow,” Wyatt said. “Those were heavy.”
“We girls aren’t as wimpy as we appear.” Charley added a wink in his direction.
Wyatt blinked, held his palms up and backed out the door.
“You told him.” Lily giggled. “He knows something.”
“I didn’t say a word.” Handsome, rugged, muscular and observant.
Charley strolled around the room. Bronte, Roberts and Dickens-an eclectic mix of authors and writers graced the shelves. Whoever the owner, they had great taste. With one finger, she snuck one off the shelf, let it rest in her palm, the cover soft against her skin. She stroked the bound leather like one would a lover-of books.
“Charley?” Lily asked.
Charley slipped the book back in its place. “Yeah? Are we ready?”
“Yup.”
She noted the items Lily laid out along tables, over the backs of chairs and hooked carefully onto shelves.
“Props, girl. Props.” Lily smirked.
Charley rolled her eyes. “All of it?”
She hadn’t expected ten potential outfits, let alone the lack of material that went with them. She’d imagined skimpy, but not invisible.
“Oh my god, Lily!” Charley hissed. “What is that?”
“A costume.” Lily held it up, though she needed no more than a finger to show off the entire ensemble.
“That is not an outfit.” Charley shook her head. “No. No. No. No. No.”
“You’re a dancer, Charley, not an opera singer.” Lily went back to her pile of nothingness attire.
“How in the hell do I get myself in these situations?”
“Because you are the best.” Lily stopped Charley with two hands on her upper arms. “The best. No one tops anything you’ve ever done.”
“You think I can pull this off?”
“Seriously?” Lily ran a hand through her hair. “What can’t you do, Charley? Answer me that. What can’t you do?”
Charley shrugged. Cael couldn’t imprint upon his memory and neither could James-they had to experience the action or reaction first hand. Lily’s talent lay in the details, and though she could change form to suit, she couldn’t hold it as long as the rest of them.
“I can’t be a man?” Charley flicked her wrist.
“Neither can I. That doesn’t count.”
“But Cael can be a woman.” Charley stopped at Lily’s glare.
Charley had drawn the long straw so long ago, with both the physical as well as mental talent. James came closest to her in a male’s form.
“You going to teach me, Lil?”
Lily laughed. “Ha! These three DVDs-one of which is Candie-and that pole.” Lily pointed. “You only have to practice enough to know the moves. Once you see her-” She added a hip thrust and a hand flick, her pinky held up. “-the rest will fall into place.”
“Please tell me it’s not porn.” Charley eyed Lily.
Efficient, effective and fun, Lily had been known to throw in a practical joke or two when she could.
“Not this time.” Lily waved it away. “Technique. I have four memoirs by former dancers, former prostitutes, or current ones-”
Charley interrupted before Lily could continue. “What exactly do you think I’ll be doing?”
Lily laughed. “One never knows. One must be prepared. Be the one, Charley. Be her.”
“Let’s get this party started.”
“First things first.” Lily held up two outfits with less material than a string bikini. “Red or blue?”
Wyatt shuffled as he walked toward the study. He thought back to how quickly the team took in the information he’d given them. A few questions, a few statements, complete acknowledgement. It troubled him that they didn’t seem worried.
He shook off his unease, reminded himself that professionals became professional for a reason.
He slowed at the volume of the rock music pumping from within the room. The ping of cymbals and bass grew louder as he approached. Wyatt stopped, took a step backward, gave up and leaned a shoulder into the frame of the door. He shifted his back against the wall, drew up the papers in his hand and pretended to read on the off chance anyone caught him loitering outside the door.
“Turn! Quickly!” Lily directed.
“This is hell, Lily, shut up!” Charley said.
Wyatt let out a small chuckle. He couldn’t imagine how the dark-haired beauty who sat across from him an hour before could both transform and learn the moves of a seasoned professional. He’d watched Candie, had an eye for all the details. Intelligence his forte, he’d positioned himself in such a way that she’d seen him, too. Her babble and his earful had been mere coincidence but one that would promote his career if he succeeded.
A few grunts, curses and screeches later, the music disappeared. He shivered at the tap on his shoulder.
“Hear anything interesting in there?” Cael leaned against the wall in much the same way Wyatt had.
“Ah… just waiting for the appropriate time to knock.” He shrugged. “You’re going to join us in Montreal, aren’t you?”
“Not that you know,” Cael said.
“You really think she can pull this off?” Wyatt met Cael’s gaze head on.
“I know she can,” Cael said as James walked up.
“Can what?”
“Become the stripper.”
“Exotic dancer.” Wyatt waved the papers as if the corrected title remained concealed within them.
