Heaven, Texas (Chicago Stars #2)(6)

Gracie watched him take Julie in his arms and kiss her quite thoroughly. This man might be the most blatant male chauvinist left in North America, but she had to admire his audacity. She watched with fascination as his hand, which was suntanned and exceptionally strong looking, curled over the bare globe of Julie’s glistening bottom. The muscles in her own bottom tightened unconsciously in response.

The guests began to mill and a few of the men stepped up on the platform to offer condolences to the beautiful loser.

“Let’s go.” Bruno took Gracie’s arm, and before she could stop him, he had pushed her forward.

She caught her breath in alarm. What had started as a simple misunderstanding had begun to get out of hand, and she hastily turned back to him. “Bruno, there’s something we need to talk about. It’s quite funny, really, and—”

“Hey, Bruno!” Another bruiser, this one with red hair, came up next to them. He ran his eyes over Gracie and regarded Bruno critically.

“She’s not wearing enough makeup. You know Bobby Tom likes his women with makeup. And I hope she’s got blond hair underneath that wig. Boobs, too. That jacket’s so loose it’s hard to tell. You got boobs, doll?”

Gracie didn’t know which was the more astonishing, being asked if she had boobs or being called “doll.” She was momentarily at a loss for words.

“Bruno, who you got there?”

Her stomach plummeted as she heard Bobby Tom’s voice. He had stepped to the edge of the hot tub platform, and was regarding her with great interest and something that seemed almost like speculation.

Bruno patted the boom box. “Me and the boys thought we’d surprise you with a little entertainment.”

Gracie watched with growing dread as a wide grin stretched over Bobby Tom’s face, revealing a set of straight white teeth. His eyes met hers, and she felt as if she were walking too fast on a moving sidewalk.

“Come on over here, honey, so ol’ Bobby Tom can take a look at you before you get started.” His soft Texas drawl licked her body and scrambled her customary good sense, which might have been why she said the first thing that came into her mind.

“I—uh—have to put on more makeup first.”

“Now don’t you worry about that.”

She let out a small gasp of dismay as Bruno pushed her the rest of the way forward. Before she could draw back, Bobby Tom’s big hand closed around her wrist. Numbly, she looked down at the long, tapered fingers that only moments before had been molded to Julie’s behind but were now pulling her up next to him on the platform.

“Let’s give the lady some room, girls.”

Alarmed, she watched the women leaving the hot tub so they could watch her. She tried to explain. “Mr. Denton, I need to tell you who—”

Bruno hit the button on the boom box, and her voice was drowned out by the raucous music of “The Stripper.” The men began to cheer and whistle. Bobby Tom gave her an encouraging wink, released her, and walked away to sit on a boulder and watch the show.

Hot color flamed in her cheeks. She stood all alone in the center of the hot tub platform, and everyone in the room was staring at her. All of these perfect physical specimens were waiting for her, imperfect Gracie Snow, to strip!

“Come on, baby!”

“Don’t be shy!”

“Shake it, honey!”

As some of the men made animal noises, one of the women put her fingers between her lips and whistled. Gracie gazed at them helplessly. They began to laugh, just as her sophomore English class had laughed when the tissues padding her bra had shifted. They were adult party animals behaving in accordance with their species, and they apparently thought her reluctance was part of the act.

As she stood frozen before them, the idea of being mistaken for a stripper suddenly became less embarrassing than the thought of shouting out an explanation over the music to all these worldly people who would instantly realize what a country bumpkin she was.

Perhaps fifteen feet separated her from Bobby Tom Denton, and she realized all she had to do was work herself close enough to him so she could whisper her identity. Once he realized that Windmill Studios had sent her, he would be so embarrassed by the mistake that he would help her make a discreet exit and give her his full cooperation.

A fresh burst of animal noises rose over the music blasting from the boom box. Gingerly, she extended her right leg several inches and pointed the toe of her sensible black pump. Once again there was laughter.

“That’s the way!”

“Show us what you got!”

The distance between herself and Bobby Tom now seemed to stretch a hundred miles. Tugging on the skirt of her navy suit, she inched toward him. More whistles joined the laughter as the bottom of her hem reached the top of her knee.

“You’re hot, baby! We love it!”

“Take off that wig!”

Bruno had pushed himself to the front of the crowd and was making a giant circle with his index finger. At first she didn’t understand what he wanted, and then she realized he was ordering her to face Bobby Tom while she undressed. With a gulp, she turned toward those deep blue eyes.

He tilted his Stetson back on his head and spoke just loudly enough for her to hear. “Leave the pearls for last, sweetheart. I do like a lady in pearls.”

“We’re getting bored!” one of the men bellowed. “Take something off!”