He tipped his head and kissed her jaw, her throat, her neck, murmuring, “You amaze me, Grace.”
His attitude had taken an about-face. She didn’t know which way was up anymore.
“I don’t have time for this.” She breathed the words heavily, needing space to think. “I have to work.”
She stepped out from between his body and the wall and tugged at the edge of her top, realizing she still had to change. But she stood there a minute, unable to straighten out her mind enough to get her feet moving.
“What?” Josh finally asked, drawing her gaze.
She shook her head. “I don’t know what to do with you.”
He smiled, the expression a little smug, a lot sweet, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders as he walked her to the door. Before opening it, he kissed her temple and whispered, “Well, now we’ve got time to figure that out.”
Thirty minutes later Josh pulled his shirt back on and wandered down the hallway toward the club. The sugary female voice echoing through the club sang “Santa Baby”—not exactly what Josh would consider a stripper song. But what the hell did he know?
Grace called out cues above the music. “Remember the eight count, Hillary. Slow down, Jaime. You’ve got a beautiful body, let them watch it move. Better. Kaitlin , think sensual. Rock those hips. Good. Spread your legs, close, spread, close. Pump, pump, pump, sloooow roll… Nice, ladies.”
A smile quirked his lips as he passed through the velvet drape toward the club. She was definitely not the woman she’d been a year ago, and, sweet Jesus, she turned him on in wicked ways.
The place was empty except for one girl behind the bar. The younger one…Kati, Kathy… Kelly, that was it. He took a quick glance toward the stage as he hugged the wall, staying in the shadows, but once he caught sight of the stage, his feet stopped. He couldn’t tell exactly what the women were wearing, but it was definitely Santa themed, and minimal. Short red velvet capes rimmed in white feathers covered their bodies, shoulders to hips. Traditional Santa hats adorned their heads. And thigh-high black patent leather spike boots clung to their long legs.
The music stopped, and he continued to the bar, where Kelly unpacked boxes of liquor.
She gave him a flirty, bright grin. “Well, look who’s back. What are you up to?”
“Helping Gr—” Dammit. “Nikki in the back. Think I could get a beer?”
“Absolutely. What kind?”
“Anything’s fine.”
On stage, Grace trotted up the stairs, while the girls created a line. She took center stage in front of the other three, wearing the same outfit. The velvet cape hid most of her body, but the long, toned thighs showing between the boot tops and the cape hem gave him plenty to admire.
A bottle clunked against the wooden bar, and Josh pulled out his wallet without ever taking his gaze off Grace.
“On the house.” Kelly’s voice drew Josh’s gaze for a moment. “And this is in case things with you and Nikki don’t work out.”
She slid a cocktail napkin across the bar—complete with her name, phone number, and x’s and o’s beneath printed in red ink.
He smiled, nodded, and pocketed the napkin with the intention of throwing it away when she was out of sight. “Thanks.”
“Okay, from the top,” Grace said as the beginning ba-bum, ba-bum, ba-bum of “Santa Baby” spilled through the sound system again.
All four of the women moved forward on the stage in unison, stepping toward the audience, one slow, exaggerated crisscross step per beat. Eartha Kitt’s sugary voice filled Josh’s ears as he fixed his gaze on Grace. The other three women were undeniably fifteens on a scale of one to ten, but Grace was that and more. She was a powerful, magnetic presence on stage. Absolutely irresistible.
She’d make a mint stripping… Buuuuut, Josh would keep that idea to himself.
The lyrics, “So hurry down the chimney tonight,” coincided with the women’s twirl and deep bend at the waist, teasing the eye with flaring capes and split-second glimpses of more skin.
Heat stirred in his belly. He definitely needed a better view, one that made it very clear to Grace that he wasn’t judging her by where she worked or what she did. He loved what she’d become. It had just taken him a little tap upside the head to realize that.
He picked up his beer and strolled down the center aisle, taking a seat in the front row. Leaning back, he settled into the lushly padded chair, threw his arm over the back of another, and propped his ankle over the opposite knee.
The gazes of all three dancers veered toward him. But not Grace’s. She remained perfectly focused, moving to the music and directing the women.
“I’ll wait up for you, dear, Santa Baby…”
“Three, four, five and six, seven, shimmy…” she called over Kitt’s sugar-soft voice, which sounded far more erotic now than when he’d first heard it.