Sweet Sinful Nights(67)
But every now and then during the evening, the dancers would take on a larger role, moving from the background pedestals that framed the club, to the dance floor itself, becoming the focal point for those few minutes in time, the eye of the hurricane on a night of pleasure.
The redhead named Cassidy spun in crazy-eight circles, curving her entire body into impossible shapes. Then, along with the trio of other dancers, they slid in a wild rush upside-down to the floor. Shannon stopped recording, and clapped proudly. So did the sound engineer who was running the boards, and the nightclub manager from behind the bar. Shannon acknowledged them all, and nodded a thanks. Cassidy flashed Shannon the bright, magnetic smile of an entertainer who’d nailed it.
“You were amazing,” Shannon told her. “Absolute perfection. No changes.”
“Thank you, Shay. I’m so happy you liked it,” the girl said, beaming as she and the other dancers took off for the dressing room.
“Wow. That was a hell of a show.”
Shannon turned around to see Travis, Brent’s firefighter friend, standing beside her. She hadn’t realized he’d been watching. She had met him earlier in the day. He’d come by as a favor to conduct a preliminary fire inspection, given the additional lighting and needs of the production.
“You enjoyed it?”
“I’m just trying to figure out how a human being gets her body into that upside-down pretzel shape,” he said, parking his hands on his hips as he stared admiringly at the scene of the finished show, and the thick ribbons of fabric that dangled from the ceiling. “That is out of this world.”
“They’re amazing, aren’t they?” Shannon said, proud of her dancers, and her production.
“Incredible,” Travis said with a big nod. He had dark hair and a sturdy fireman’s build that could probably grace a calendar somewhere. She imagined he would make a lot of women with fireman fantasies quite happy indeed.
Though she could appreciate his smoldering looks, she only had eyes for one man, and she’d been ticking off the hours until Brent arrived. They had a few short hours in San Francisco, then they’d both return to Vegas late that night for meetings early in the morning back home.
“Think Edge will pass the additional inspection next week before the show rolls out?” Shannon asked Travis.
“Definitely,” he said, hooking his thumbs into the pockets of his pants. “I just spent an hour going through everything, and it all looks good. I’ll let Brent know for sure and then everything should be all set for the official inspection from the city. I’ll be hanging around for a bit, since a buddy of mine is having a bachelor party here tonight.”
“Oh, how fun. And I really appreciate that you took time out of your schedule to make sure everything is all set for Brent.”
Travis waved his hand to signal it was no big deal. “We go way back. Happy to do him a solid. He’s a good guy.”
A light bulb went off in her brain. She lifted her phone again, and tapped the screen. “Any chance I could have you say that on camera?”
Travis furrowed his brow. “Sure. But why?”
She quickly explained her idea, and his eyes lit up. “Like I’d say no to that. Love that man like a brother.”
She hit record, and asked Travis some questions about Brent and the club. After she finished, she wrote out her plan on her phone. She made a list of everything she’d need to do.
Then she looked at her watch. He would be there in about an hour, giving her plenty of time to change. She retreated to the dressing room where her dancers had been, changed into a new outfit, freshened up, and returned to the bar. In thirty minutes, Edge would open for the first trickle of early evening crowds. For now, the establishment operated at a low hum as bartenders and waitresses set up for service and the sound guys tested equipment.
Shannon knocked back an iced water as she remained glued to her phone and to Brent’s text messages, savoring every single one. He told her he’d landed, then that he was on his way. Somehow, the seemingly impossible thirty-six hours had compressed into thirty, twenty, ten and now mere minutes.
A message dinged on her phone.
You better be naked or close to it. I’m walking in.
*
“Why would you say you aren’t giving?” Brent said as he shut the door to his office on the second floor. The sound of it clicking made his dick even harder. It was the sound that signaled the start of what he’d been waiting for all day, all week, ever since he’d laid eyes on her at the Mandarin.
But his desire dug deeper than the past few weeks.
It unspooled over years.
It had grown roots into the last decade.
There was no way out of this. The only way was through it. He was finally going to have her. To take what was his—this woman he adored to the ends of the earth and back.
He locked the door without looking away from her beauty. He had never seen her dressed like this. She wore a black pencil skirt that hugged her luscious hips, a white, silky button-down blouse, and black sheer stockings that made him think only one thing—how far up did they go?
Then, there were those shoes. Those black leather pumps that he was going to have wrapped around his back so damn soon.
“Why would I say I’m not giving?” she asked, as he backed her up against the wall. His hands were already on her. He ran a fingertip over the top button of her blouse, watching goosebumps rise on her skin as he touched her.