The Bride Goes Rogue (The Fifth Avenue Rebels #3)(35)

Walking the length of the stage, she glanced around, then faced the audience as if ready to begin a performance. Preston called out, “Can you sing?”

Katherine shook her head. “Sadly, no. I’m not musically inclined.” Striking a dramatic pose, she recited, “To be or not to be. That is the dashed dilemma.”

He burst out laughing. “Question,” he said, grinning. “That is the question.”

She shrugged. “Shakespeare is boring. It could use some reworking.”

“Well, I know you can dance.” Indeed, those high kicks and short skirts fueled his erotic dreams.

Lifting her hands for an imaginary partner, she performed a basic waltzing box step.

“Try again,” he said.

Then she barely raised her skirts and did an Irish step dance.

He tapped his fingers on the table, fighting amusement. She was adorable, but also maddening. They both knew what he was asking for, and she liked denying him. It was swiftly becoming a recurring theme between them. Lacing his voice with doubt, he said, “Maybe it was Nellie I was watching. Now that I think of it . . .”

A huff of amused indignation escaped her mouth. “How dare you? We both know you couldn’t take your eyes off me on that dance floor.”

“Hmm, I can’t recall. Too bad you’ll never show me and prove it.”

“You are so transparent. You think I won’t do it unless you trick me.”

He waved his hand, like a king to his royal subjects. “Please, Katherine. Dance for me.”

“You think you deserve it?”

“No, but I told you I never play fair. And it’s clear you’re too shy. I understand.”

With a smirk, she hiked her skirts to her thighs—and every single one of Preston’s muscles clenched. He sat perfectly still, transfixed, as she began to move, kicking those long legs into the air like a can-can dancer. Any amusement died, swiftly replaced with a fever that blanketed him from head to toe. The flash of her drawers and bare skin caused his cock to thicken in his trousers, her movements exactly like the scandalous girls in the dance halls. Christ almighty, she was good at this.

These same graceful movements and lithe limbs had drawn his eye at the French Ball, and instantly filled him with a longing he barely understood. Now that he knew her, his longing was a hundred times worse. This was Katherine in all her innocent and alluring glory, and he wanted her all to himself.

When she turned and bent over, flicking her skirts up the back of her thighs, he struggled to remain seated and not rush the stage in eagerness. He began contemplating the back room and the furniture the two of them could use—

“What in the hell is going on in my club?”





Chapter Eleven




Kit’s angry voice echoed off the walls, the sound causing Katherine to drop her skirts quickly and spin around. Preston glanced over his shoulder to see his friend’s furious face, along with his wife’s shocked expression from where she stood at Kit’s side. Shit.

“Katherine!” Alice exclaimed, hurrying forward toward the stage. “I had no idea that was you. Hello!” The two women embraced, but Kit suddenly filled Preston’s line of sight, preventing him from seeing more.

Lips thin with fury, his friend pointed toward the back of the club. “My office. Right now.”

Preston sighed. There was no avoiding this conversation, not if he didn’t want Kit making a scene. No doubt his friend planned to berate him, but Preston was co-owner of this supper club. He didn’t need to ask Kit’s permission to bring women here.

He rose and buttoned his coat, hoping to cover his semi-erection for propriety’s sake. “Katherine, I’ll return in a moment.”

She nodded and began whispering with Alice, and the two of them headed in the direction of the kitchen. Kit had already started for the back, so Preston followed to the office. When he entered, Kit was already behind the desk, glaring in his direction. “Hello, Kit.”

“Shut the door.”

Preston closed them in and settled on the sofa against the wall, putting as much distance as possible between him and his friend lest this turn ugly. They hadn’t come to blows in years, but Preston was not about to cower like a schoolboy caught cheating on a test.

“What was that?” Kit asked, gesturing toward the club. “Seriously, have you lost your mind?”

“I haven’t a clue what you mean. I brought Katherine here for a drink and she wanted to get on the stage for a moment.”

Kit pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Preston. You cannot bring women here in the middle of the day. It’s a business and we have a hundred things to do before—”

“Wait a minute. I don’t need a lecture from you about responsibility. Between the two of us, I think we both know who has the proven record there. Also, I’m co-owner of this place. If I want to use it to entertain women, then I damn well will.”

“Is that what you were doing? ‘Entertaining’ Katherine Delafield? Because to me, it looked more like she was entertaining you. And what the hell, Preston? She’s a goddamn debutante. Innocent and pure.”

Not so innocent and pure, not really. Katherine had a naughty streak, one she was just discovering, and Preston was more than happy to join her on that path of enlightenment. “If you must know, it was harmless fun. Moreover, it’s none of your concern.”