Private Dancer. Kimberly Dean

Over and across. Flicking against the edges.

      She dropped the microphone like a hot potato and Remy Hunt chuckled as he walked away, leaving her flustered.

      Alicia looked around worriedly, but her group’s attention was on the police officer now.

      She let out a shaky breath and eased the vice-like hold she still had on her sign. She felt like she’d just escaped danger – or more precisely, that it had just let her go.

      She knew about the devil and the temptations it put in good people’s paths. She’d listened to the sermons and read the texts herself. She forced herself to take another step back, only to bump into the tree behind her. The rough bark bit into her shoulders and buttocks as she watched the two black panthers glide away, their strides masculine and confident. Temptations were dark, attractive and hard to ignore.

      Her gaze dropped to the microphone that sat propped up suggestively in the grass.

      She’d just never realised how sharply temptation could bite. Or how strongly curiosity would pull.

      Chapter Two

      She shouldn’t be here.

      Alicia knew that. She stopped even as her fingers wrapped around the knob on the door to the Satin Club.

      This was a mistake in the making.

      For a moment, she stood still, just staring at the red wooden door. When she crossed its threshold, would she be crossing the line? Or would she be broaching the divide?

      It had been over a week now since the stand-off between Sebastian Crowe and her father, but things hadn’t got any better. What had been tension between the two groups before had stretched to a high-wire level of strain. She was afraid that something would soon pop and she’d be left to clean up the pieces. Wasn’t it smarter to stem off the problems now? To try to reach a compromise before things spiralled out of control?

      Deep down, she believed that it was.

      Only she knew she wasn’t the one who should be knocking on the door to the lion’s den.

      Her fingers turned slippery.

      Nobody knew she was here. Sunlight’s protesters had left soon after rush hour traffic, and the day was at that lingering stage between sunshine and darkness. She glanced back to her car, knowing she should hop into it and drive away before the night came out to play. But now was the perfect time to accept Crowe’s invitation. She scanned the parking lot. Few of the other spaces were taken. If she was going to reach out to the Satin Club’s owner, this was the time to do it. She wouldn’t have the nerve once the sun went down and the place got busy.

      Besides, she was curious what lay behind this red door.

      Her fingers curled again, obtaining a tighter grip.

      She’d been staring at it for the better part of a month. She knew what others in her group thought went on behind it – or she thought she did. The whispers and innuendo were hard to follow, and her imagination only went so far. But Crowe and Hunt had left a definite impression.

      They’d also made her painfully aware of how sheltered a life she’d led.

      A breeze blew across the parking lot, ruffling her hair and brushing against the back of her neck. The sensation made her shiver, and she jumped reflexively.

      She also inadvertently opened the door.

      She was caught before she could close it again. A bouncer leaned against a tall stool just inside the entryway, and he’d already caught a glimpse of her. A long glimpse. She felt the caress of his hot look as it stroked over her hair and down her body all the way to her high-heeled shoes.

      The door suddenly became her shield.

      ‘May I help you?’ the man asked.

      From his polite tone, she could tell he thought she’d made a wrong turn. Her cheeks heated. He was probably right about that. She cleared her throat. ‘I’m here to speak with Mr Crowe.’

      His eyebrows rose and the interest in his eyes sparked. There were questions on his face as his gaze swept over her once again.

      Alicia couldn’t help it, she edged another inch behind the red door.

      She’d vacillated on what to wear for this meeting. What she’d worn the other day had seemed so stiff and church-like. Definitely not appropriate for the Satin Club – despite her twisted daydream – yet she hadn’t wanted to dress up to the level in which she saw the businessmen and their lady guests entering the club. She didn’t own any sparkly cocktail dresses, and she didn’t want to show the club that kind of respect until it earned it.

      So jeans and a trendy knit top were it.

      She tugged the neckline up towards her chin.

      ‘Your name?’ the man asked.

      ‘This is Ms Alicia Wheeler, Charlie,’ a low voice drawled.

      She looked sharply to her right and discovered the infamous club owner walking towards them. She frowned. How had he seen her?

      He extended his hand and she found herself in the predicament her father had experienced – only for very different reasons. Sebastian Crowe was an extremely attractive man and this evening he wasn’t wearing dark sunglasses. His eyes were green, a deep forest colour that somehow made them even more intense. He was only an inch or two taller than she was in her heels, and it left her with nowhere to hide. She pressed her palm against his, and he kissed the back of her hand.

      The gesture disarmed her. Her stomach gave a funny twirl, but her knees nearly unlocked when the tip of his tongue darted into the dip between her knuckles. She tried to pull her hand back but, instead, found herself pulled forward.

      ‘I’ve been waiting for you to join us,’ he said, a hint of a smile on his lips.

      She was surprised when the door shut behind her. The soft click shouldn’t have been audible, but it was like a time mark in her brain. She’d crossed the line, and she didn’t even remember doing it.

      She glanced over her shoulder and tugged discreetly at her top again. ‘How did you know I would come?’

      The hint became reality when the corners of his mouth curled. ‘I just knew.’

      He cupped her elbow. ‘Let me show you around my club.’

      He steered her past the coat-check desk and into the open room. The feel of his hand on her bare elbow was distracting, but Alicia was curious. She’d been on the outside looking in for so long. She was here to talk, but she found herself looking around, trying to take everything in at once. Half of her cringed at what she might discover. The way her fellow church-goers went on, she expected to be subjected to lewd acts and wild music.

      It was just the opposite.

      ‘This is our main show floor,’ Crowe said, sweeping his hand over the expanse. ‘Things are quiet now, but Chanteuse should be starting her routine in a few minutes. What do you think of our stage?’

      ‘It’s … beautiful.’ The word wasn’t something Alicia had expected to use, but it was true. She looked around in wonder. The stage was at the far end of the room, but it was much larger than she’d expected. They could perform shows there. A dancer could do runs and leaps. The floor looked professional, sturdy and immaculate. The polished grain made her toes curl hungrily inside her shoes.

      Curse him and Hunt. Their talk last week had made her yearn to dance again.

      Her gaze followed the runway out to the obligatory stripper’s pole. Her heart beat faster, and she couldn’t help but stare at it. Despite her imaginings, she’d only seen glimpses in cable TV movies of how dancers actually twirled around such a thing. It stood there, gleaming under the soft spotlight. It was a prop like any other a dancer might use – although a suggestive prop. Her teeth nibbled at her lower lip. Just how creative did