“Ah, gotcha. Hot girl dancing with a pole, half naked. Doesn’t matter to me what’cha call her.” James grinned. He moved to the door, one hand on the handle. “Shall we?”
James nodded at Cael, who nodded at Wyatt, and each in turn sauntered in.
Charley slid down the shaft of silver until she met the solid surface of the floor beneath her. Fitted with a red, sequined skivvy, Wyatt noted she’d kept her body in alignment on the way down-a move much like he’d seen Candie complete.
Lily loaded a classic rock song, and Charley stood, one hand draped against the pole like one would hold a long-time lover.
A surge of desire coursed through his body. A punch to his shoulder pulled his attention away.
“Let’s watch the show.” James moved to one of the couches, pushed to the side before their arrival.
Charley gave them each a one-fingered come-hither, complete with lips and tongue, her body bent halfway, breasts hung in the skimpiest of straps.
Like James, Wyatt sat, but unlike him, he kept the whistles and catcalls to himself. He shifted with less comfort than the two at his sides.
Charley slid down the pole. She climbed again, creating patterns of movement that flowed with the deep base that rocked the house. At the top, she slid one leg up, hung perpendicular to the floor. Her toes rose higher to the point the caress they would have provided, if Wyatt took its place, sent tingles along his body.
As the music grew to a crescendo, Charley spun, a lock of her hair whipped around; she caught it between her teeth. Cael jumped up, pulled out his wallet and tucked a five under her strap. She blew an upside down kiss with her free hand that went straight to Wyatt’s lips. As Cael sat again, James pounded on the table.
Charley, with a grace Wyatt would swear he’d seen before, returned to the top, twisted her ankles around the pole and draped herself upside down, held by what looked like six inch heels.
Wyatt forced himself still.
James and Cael had earned the right to laugh and make jokes if they chose.
As the music stopped, Charley lay prone against the floor, her back arched and her legs up against the pole.
She turned to Wyatt. “You didn’t like it?”
Wyatt stared, lost in her eyes. Another punch to the shoulder proved his inability to get her out of his head would cost him. “What? No.” He shook his head in quick measure. “I mean yes. Yes, I liked it.”
“Then why didn’t you clap? Whistle or holler?” Still on the ground, her chest heaved. With each intake of breath, her breasts pressed further into the material.
Wyatt could barely control his facade. He tugged at his slacks to loosen them from his crotch. “I’m sorry, I was just trying to be professional.”
Charley shrugged. “Okay. You know? I have a new respect for women who do this for a living.” She sat up and rubbed her calf. “This is more of a workout than I would have expected.” She leaned her head back and chugged the cool water Lily passed her. Cael’s tip waved from the string at her hips.
She kneaded muscles Wyatt assumed had grown sore from the movement before she wound herself around the pole again. With one long, slender leg, her painted toes reached for the ceiling. Her body fell back so it lay as if suspended by air. Her movements reminded him of a trapeze artist: lithe, rhythmic, sensual and completely erotic, even as she stood.
“Damn, Charley,” James said.
Wyatt shifted himself again with a quick leg cross, noting James’s eyes tracking up and down as he walked to her.
She slithered closer.
“You are seriously hot.” James danced hip to hip with her.
“You like?” She ran her hands up and down her long body, enticed, aroused and invited the wrong person.
Wyatt wondered if she could feel the heat radiating from his own body. His temperature had to have skyrocketed.
James reached his hands out to capture hers and follow along as she lowered them.
“Crap!”
Charley’s abrupt pause brought Wyatt’s visual feast to a halt.
“What language does Candie speak at the club, Wyatt?”
Wyatt coughed, covered his mouth which he found hung open. He closed his eyes in thought, two fingers to the bridge of his nose. “Ah-” He’d already forgotten the question.
Charley’s body filled the black space that pervaded his mind. Another punch in the arm brought him from his lost thoughts.
“French and English. They try to hire bilinguals. Wait staff speak both, fluently. The dancers are mixed.” Wyatt focused on a book on the far side of the room, but his gaze returned to Charley’s each time he tore it away. “Is that a problem?”
The five fell like a feather to the floor from Charley’s attire. “No.” She bent over and caught it right before it landed-though Wyatt’s eyes found themselves riveted not to the money.
His failure to control his body’s reactions shamed him more than the heat that raced to his cheeks.
“I’ll be okay.” The softness in her eyes surprised him.
“You speak French, right?” He hadn’t thought to ask.
“I do. A little rusty, but I’ll get by.” Charley added a wink to which Cael and James both chuckled.
“You’re a moron, Charley. You speak them both fluently,” Lily said. “Time’s a wastin’. Do it again.”
“She’s right. We can chat about details and logistics on the plane.” James turned his watch toward him. “We’re wheels up in sixty or the jet takes off without us.”
“Slave drivers.” With a swish of her hands, Charley motioned them all toward the door.
Wyatt stood to follow her instructions like a good boy scout.
“Wyatt?”
He turned. “Yeah?” Cael and James stopped, too.
“Cars are waiting, guys-shoo!” Charley waved them out.
Wyatt’s heart began a dangerous thump in his chest.
Charley sidled up to him. “Do I make you nervous?”
“Losin’ time, Charley!” James’s voice bellowed from the hallway.
She rolled her eyes, but her smile lit her face. Their bodies separated by only the fabric of his suit and the tiny triangles of her costume, Wyatt’s instincts insisted he reach, touch and taste.
“Get over here, Charley.” Lily pressed the button on the stereo and Queen blared through the room.
Wyatt pointed toward the door. “I’ll just-uh-I’ll just catch up to James.”
A small giggle escaped from Lily as she stuffed supplies into a bag, and he whisked himself away.
10
The Cessna Citation swept through the clouds and cruised somewhere around thirty-thousand feet. The sun sparkled off its wings, adding warmth to Charley’s spot by the window. After the hour of practice with the silver beast, her mind buzzed, pushing toward overload from the gross amount of information she’d digested. She relaxed into her seat, her body disengaging, and hoped her mind would follow.
Next to her, Lily read, and across from them both, James and Wyatt sat. Heads together, they scoured a mound of paper-based intelligence. The six-seater could have held Cael too, but thanks to the government’s stupid rule, he’d get his own transportation. Charley refused to be without a vital member of her team.
“Charley?” Wyatt said.
Eyes closed, head against the soft leather, she didn’t move. “Yeah?”
“I have Candie booked for seven tonight-a private arrangement. Is that enough time?”
“Yes.” She breathed in and out, the movement of her chest as smooth as the tilt of the plane’s wings.
