Stripped Bare (Stripped #1)(60)

West Rykman got what he wanted. Always.

Then again, I was used to getting what I wanted too.

I cleared my throat and smoothed my skirt out, momentarily dropping my gaze to gather my bravado. When I met his eyes, he was standing tall, adjusting one of the sleeves of the shirt hugging his muscular body. The way it fit reminded me of every inch of perfection that hid beneath it, and that only made my next words harder to say.

“We can’t see each other in a personal capacity anymore. From now on, it’s professional only. No more grabbing me or kissing me or anything else. It never should have happened in the first place. And no—it isn’t up for discussion, no matter what you say.” I held his gaze for the longest second to prove to him that I was serious before I stepped through the door and took the stairs down.

My hands were shaking. Even though I held them clasped against my lower stomach in an effort to combat the shake, I could feel trembling against my skirt. I didn’t know what I’d expected, but it hadn’t been for him to stand there and not argue.

I guessed I’d wanted him to argue. Wanted to hear him tell me to shut up because we both knew it wouldn’t happen because we were unable to resist the other.

But he hadn’t. And I had no idea how I felt about that.

Fucking stupid, contradictory feelings.

When I walked into the main area of the club, Beck had the boxes on the stage and was in the process of opening them with Vicky’s help. I counted—there really were ten.

Wow. How many had he ordered?

“These look amazing,” Beck said as I stepped up beside him. “Take a look.”

I took the one he was handing me and scanned it. Huh. He was right. It did look good. Even the back. It was the basic one that had every night’s plans and deals, from the cocktails to the theme nights.

“They printed so well. Are they all here?”

Beck looked at all the boxes. “I sure hope so.”

I grinned and patted his arm. “Don’t worry. I’m sorting them.”

“Thank god for that.” He immediately relaxed. “I need to get back next door. I’ll open these all up for you. Do you want them upstairs?”

“Um...” That had been my plan, but West was still up there. “No, it’s okay. I want to get them out on the tables tonight. Lili will be here soon, and she’ll teach Vicky the cocktails. She’s a great teacher.”

“Lili... The hot cocktail friend, right?”

“Yes. The hot cocktail friend.”

The lesbian one too. Boy, I couldn’t wait for him to find that out.

He glanced at the watch on his wrist and muttered beneath his breath. “I can be back in time for that.”

“Of course you can,” Vicky put in, climbing up on top of the stage. Her jeans covered her modesty—a luxury I didn’t have.

I’d be flashing my panties everywhere if I tried to climb up there, mostly because my skirt was so tight that I’d have to hike it up around my hips like a hooker to stand a chance.

“Hey.” Beck made a gun with his fingers and pointed them at her. “You. Stop it.”

She snorted and took the penknife from his hand. “I can open these. We’re fine. Go next door so you can be back in time for the cocktail chick.”

He held his hands up and didn’t argue as he backed up. I watched him go, a smile on my face, and then straightened the boxes up for Vicky.

“Is the cocktail chick actually hot, or are you just saying it?” she asked, ripping open one of them.

“Oh, she’s hot.” I grabbed the trash bag she’d obviously brought over before and gathered the extra packaging. “She’s also a lesbian.”

She paused, the knife stuck in tape, and looked up at me. “I’m assuming he doesn’t know that.”

My smile widened, and I gave her a small, sheepish shrug. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Oh, you evil woman. I like it.”

“Not evil. Just...up for some amusement.”

“I can’t wait for this. I’m so glad there are security cameras that’ll catch this. I’m going to have a copy made to take home and keep forever. Think how safe my job will be.”

I laughed and walked around the stage to dump the trash bag on top of it. It was quite amazing how big it was—the stage, not the trash bag—and moved back to the stacks of boxes. I peeked inside the boxes and shifted them around, organizing them based on their contents. There were the every day fliers, plus the specialized ones based on particular deals that, in my head, I named Thursday, Friday, Saturday. The annoying box was the last one I moved—those were mixed, which I guessed was overflow.

They couldn’t just send them in smaller boxes, obviously. At least they’d wrapped each design separately so I didn’t need to organize them all.

Vicky sliced the last box open and eyed me. “That’d be easier if you were up here with me.”

I took three steps back and pointed to my skirt with both hands. “I can barely walk up stairs in this thing. Getting up onto the stage is going to flaunt my underwear.”

“Well, you’re in the right place for it, and there’s actually nobody here to see it.” She laughed and tugged the bag toward her. “Just use a chair.”

I looked down at the Devil Shoes. “Uh...I’m not sure Christian Louboutin had chair-climbing in mind when he designed my shoes.”