Set Loose Page 5

  “Yeah, I know. Sorry,” he said, knowing he sounded short but unable to help it.

  “What’s with you?” she asked. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be annoyed.”

  He took a deep breath and tried to release some of the tension that had been with him since leaving Emily. If only he could stop smelling her hair and remembering how soft her skin was, not to mention the look on her face when he walked out on her.

  “It was just a crazy night, that’s all. Some guy went all stalker on one of the dancers and attacked her in a hotel elevator.”

  “Jeez, that’s insane. What did it have to do with you, though?”

  “I saw him do it and took the bastard down. It felt damn good, too,” he said, immediately realizing he’d raised more questions than he’d answered.

  “Okay, spill it. I want full, complex sentences, Cutter. Why exactly were you with this woman in a hotel? You have a lady friend you haven’t told me about?”

  Christ. He shouldn’t have said anything. Lisa never let things go.

  “It’s not like that. Maybe I am attracted to her, but it doesn’t matter. I never date the dancers.”

  “And why exactly is that?” Lisa asked, an edge to her voice.

  He had to tread carefully here. “A lot of reasons, okay? But I don’t feel like explaining myself to you.”

  “I hope this isn’t about what happened to me,” Lisa said. “Not everyone is stripping for drug money, you know. If you don’t want to get involved with someone who’s got problems, fine. I just hope you aren’t throwing down roadblocks out of some misguided sense of honor. Frankly, if I was one of those dancers, I’d be offended by your patronizing attitude.”

  “Excuse me?” he said, incredulous.

  “You heard me. Not every stripper is as screwed up as I was. And you’re not responsible for saving them even if they are. Anyway, for all you know, the woman you like has her shit way more together than you do.”

  “Well that wouldn’t be hard, would it?” he snapped.

  “I didn’t mean –”

  “Maybe you didn’t, but you’re right. I have nothing to offer. Just ask Amy.”

  “I never liked Amy, and as far I’m concerned you’re better off without her.” Lisa was in full righteous sister mode now. “What kind of woman leaves a guy just because things aren’t perfect anymore?”

  “Just forget it, okay?”

  They’d reached her apartment complex, but she remained in her seat and he could feel her eyes on him.

  “You’re such a great guy, Cutter,” she said, her voice quiet. “I just wish you’d let someone take care of you for a change.”

  A wave of tenderness washed over him as he looked at Lisa’s earnest expression. He sighed, all of his anger draining away. “I’ll think about it. Now get inside. It’s late.”

  He watched as she dug in her bag for her keys and then let herself in. Not until she’d waved from inside did he pull away.

  He spent the whole drive home examining his actions and motivations, wondering if he had some sort of complex. But it wasn’t like he was some martyr pining for the dancers and denying himself anyway. He really did want to look out for them the way he wished someone had done for Lisa. No one had tempted him in all this time, maybe because a lot of them had some complicated shit going on in their lives, but also because he’d been kind off women since Amy.

  Then Emily came along.

  The first time he saw her he’d felt like he had as a teenager, watching the blond girls at school like they were exotic animals. Which they were to him. He’d just switched high schools to live with his father, and it was his first time going to school off the reservation. He’d felt like an alien and was sure he’d never make friends.

  He used to try to imagine what their lives were like, their houses and bedrooms, but he came up completely empty. He knew one thing, though. They weren’t in run-down shacks on land so barren and undesirable the government happily gave it to the Washoe.

  It had been ages since he’d thought about high school, and lord knew he’d slept with enough blonds since then. But Emily pushed his buttons for some reason. He felt a touch of what he had as a teenager when he was around her, like she was part of another world and maybe he’d get a taste but he couldn’t really have her. Now that they’d kissed, it was even worse.

  If she hadn’t confessed that she’d be leaving soon, he’d probably be on his way back to her hotel room right now. But he already liked her way more than he should for something that could only be brief and casual. The last thing he wanted was to be some guy she slummed with during her adventure in Las Vegas.

  So maybe it was his protective instinct that was getting in the way, only it wasn’t like Lisa thought. This time it was himself he was protecting.

  ***

  Emily swatted desperately at her alarm the next morning, groaning with fatigue, only to realize the sound that woke her was her phone ringing.

  “Hello?” she croaked, sounding like she’d smoked several packs of cigarettes.

  “Did I wake you, honey? I’m sorry. I was sure you’d be up by now.”

  It was ten o’clock, the usual time she got up now that she worked so late, though her mother assumed she still got up early like most working adults. She’d tossed and turned all night, her thoughts stuck on Cutter, so even the late hour hadn’t left her rested.

  She sat up and tried to clear her head.

  “It’s fine, Mom,” she said, forcing cheer into her voice. “I guess I just overslept. What’s up?”

  “Not too much. I hadn’t heard from you for a few days so I wanted to see how the ballet is coming along.”

  She’d told her mother she was working with the Nevada Ballet Theater on the staging of a ballet she’d once starred in. Now every time she talked to her it meant telling more lies, so she’d been avoiding it. Which wasn’t fair and only ratcheted up her daily dose of guilt.

  “It’s going great. They seem to like what I’m contributing.”

  “That’s great, honey.”

  They talked for a few more minutes before Emily hung up, relieved her mom didn’t ask too many questions. The money was really going to come in handy, but she didn’t want her mom to know just how much she needed it, or what she was doing to get it.

  Forcing herself out of bed, she started a pot of coffee and ate a protein bar. As soon as the caffeine had taken hold she dressed in her old practice clothes and headed for the club. Steve had agreed to let her practice when the club was closed, as she wasn’t in anyone’s way. There was always someone else there – the janitor, the bookkeeper, a vendor trying to work out a deal with Steve – but she had the stage to herself and no one bothered her while she practiced her pole work or worked out the choreography for her routines.

  First she went through an abbreviated version of what she’d have done in company class if she were still there, taking care not to do anything that would tax her injured foot. When she was properly warmed up she went through all four dances she’d be doing that night, refining her moves as she went.

  It was her version of a dress rehearsal, complete with the tunes she’d chosen playing softly on the sound system. Maybe it was overkill, but if she was going to dance naked in front of hundreds of people, then she was damn well going to be prepared. She wasn’t going to take anything for granted, even if all anyone cared about was seeing her naked. Unlike a ballet audience, the customers at the club were right there, their faces visible. As intimidating as that was, it was kind of cool, too. Dance could bring tears to a person’s eyes or it could make a man hard. Either way she was reaching them.

  Since she had no friends and no life outside of the club she spent all her free time working on her performances, as well as on a dance she was tentatively beginning to choreograph. It was an idea she’d had before her injury, only then she’d had no time, nor any reason, to pursue it.

  Maybe she was trying to replicate the structure of her days with the company – warm-up and
class in the morning, rehearsals in the afternoons. Then again, it was all she knew, and at least it gave her days some focus, two things she’d been sorely lacking of late. It was a fragile lifeline, and one she held onto, as she was by no means reconciled to her new situation. She’d once been part of something bigger than herself. Now she felt like she’d been excommunicated and thrown out into the cold.

  After a couple hours she headed back to her room to change and shower and call a couple of friends who’d left messages. All of her friends were ballet dancers, and she’d had enough pity from them already, so she told them she was hanging in Vegas with a friend from high school and sightseeing for a week or two. More lies, but there was no way was she telling anyone she was stripping. It would sound even worse than it was and she’d end up some kind of cautionary tale for dancers with weak ankles.

  Relieved to hang up after the last call, she settled down to work on some costumes with the TV on for company. Just before six she headed back to the club, relieved that Cutter didn’t work Wednesdays. It would spare them both the awkwardness, at least for the night.

  Her shift went by without anything out of the ordinary happening, but as the night wore on she grew more and more nervous. What if Jim was lurking somewhere between the club and the hotel? Or what if he somehow managed to get into the hotel and attack her again?

  She was probably just being paranoid. The streets were always full of people when she got off her shift, and it was a short walk back to the hotel. She needed to suck it up or she’d be scared every night.

  But logic only went so far. She dawdled in the dressing room talking to some of the dancers, and took her time in the shower, washing her hair and shaving her legs. Then, still not quite ready to leave, she sorted and organized the clothes and props in her locker. When she could think of nothing else to do, she finally threw everything in her bag, took a deep breath and headed out onto the floor.

  She was almost at the door when she heard someone calling her name and Richie came up beside her.

  “Hang on, I’ll walk you home.”

  She stared at him, thrilled at the offer but totally taken by surprise. By now everyone had heard about Jim attacking her last night, but even so she and Richie didn’t do much more than say hi to one another.

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to put you out or anything.”

  “It’s no problem. Brian’s covering for me.”

  Her relief was so immense she realized how scared she’d really been. Richie held the door open for her and followed her out, his hands shoved in his pockets and his eyes watchful.

  “I really appreciate you doing this,” she said.

  “I’m happy to do it, but I can’t take all the credit. Cutter called me earlier today and asked if I’d see you back to your room. Once he told me what had happened I figured it was the least I could do.”

  Emily stopped mid-stride, floored that Cutter had arranged this for her. Even when he was nowhere around he was looking out for her. How was she going to get over the man when he did things like this?

  Richie waited for her to catch up. “I know, what a mensch, right?” He shook his head as if baffled himself. “I can’t say I have him figured out, but he’s a good guy.”

  Emily laughed, charmed by his lighthearted manner. He wasn’t as handsome as Cutter, but there was something sweet and comforting about him at the moment. It was a far cry from his bouncer persona and it left her thinking about how changeable people were. Some people more than others.

  ***

  “Thanks for asking Richie to walk me home the other night.”

  Cutter shrugged, his hands going to his pockets. “I just thought you might be nervous.”

  “You were right, I was,” she said, watching the play of emotions cross Cutter’s face. Concern, discomfort, embarrassment. Why did he make everything so complicated?

  They were standing in the back hallway, not far from the VIP room. Emily was in full costume, though full probably wasn’t the most accurate description of it, seeing as how her first performance tonight would be as Salomé. She’d choreographed her own striptease version of the dance of the seven veils, throwing in a few moves inspired by the Salomé ballet she once danced.

  She could see Cutter making an effort to keep his eyes trained on her face, and it made her feel just a little better that the transparent, jewel-colored scarves drifting around her were proving to be such a distraction. Maybe he wasn’t as in control as he seemed.

  “Is there a problem, here?” Steve asked, coming toward them down the hallway, his habitual scowl firmly in place.

  “No, no problem,” Cutter replied, looking a touch guilty. “I was just heading onto the floor.”

  Cutter walked away and Steve looked Emily up and down. “Nice, babe. They’re gonna love it.”

  And they did love it. It was her best performance so far, certainly her most creative, and she even did it to instrumental music with a lot of sitar and exotic flair. One by one she sent each veil drifting down to the stage, the men watching her like she was the sexist woman on earth. And she felt like it, too. She was a woman out of mythology, a biblical seductress come to life to mesmerize her followers. Her body floated through the air, and she could almost smell the incense burning, feel the hot wind.

  Then she looked out into the audience and there was Cutter, caught up in her spell. following every move like she knew he would be.

  By the time she came off stage she was as aroused as the audience, her mind full of Cutter and their wild kiss.

  But she couldn’t get near him. He kept his distance the rest of the night, paying attention to her only when she was onstage. She knew him well enough by now to understand that he watched her reluctantly, against his will. Which meant he felt something for her and was trying to deny it. But why?

  She walked offstage after her third striptease, emptied her money into her locker, and headed back out to work the floor, her engines revving. Between stripping and watching Cutter without being able to touch him, she was feeling dangerous.

  She strolled around the room, leaning closer to the patrons than usual, touching an arm, throwing her head back and laughing at every effort to amuse her. Another girl started dancing to “Some Girls,” a naughty and politically incorrect song that only made her hotter.

  Then she spotted Cutter sitting at a table talking to two other men. The way they were laughing, it looked like he probably knew them. Maybe he was on break, though he didn’t usually hang out in the audience.

  God, he was gorgeous. His long legs were stretched out alongside the table, a muscled arm hooked over the side of the chair. He could have been a model, one of those men gazing out of magazines and making every other man you saw look bad. Except he was right here, and she knew his kisses were fierce and hot and unbelievably sexy.

  She walked over to his table and stood smiling at the two men seated with him.

  “Would you two fellas like to buy your friend here a lap dance? He looks like he could use a little fun.”

  The two guys looked at each other and grinned, but Cutter sat up and stared at her. “What are you talking about? You never do lap dances.”

  “Hell yeah, we’ll pay for a lap dance, honey,” his friend said. “Make it a good one. Cutter here takes things too seriously.”

  Cutter started to get up, but she was through letting him walk away. One hand on his shoulder to keep him in place, she leaned down and whispered in his ear. “Don’t worry. This won’t hurt a bit.”

  ***

  Cutter didn’t know if he was in heaven or hell. His mind seemed to freeze as Emily let out a husky laugh and swung one long, bare leg over his lap and her sweet ass settled right on his cock, which had already grown hard. Then again, he’d pretty much been hard since he met her. His hands automatically went to her hips, whether to hold her to him or push her away, he had no idea.

  Her skin shimmered in the lights, so pale next to his own. His hands were moving over her, restless to feel every i
nch of her. She smiled a wicked smile and then arched her back, thrusting her perfect little breasts up until it was all he could do not to bend over and take one in his mouth.

  He knew better than anyone what the rules for lap dances were, and he was already breaking them. But she wanted him to, he could feel it. She was taunting him, trying to get him to react.

  She rose up until her breasts were only a few inches from his mouth, then sank back down, letting them brush against his chest. Then she began riding him in earnest, teasing his cock with every x-rated move. She was like a lioness he’d watched on one of those nature shows. Fierce but relaxed and totally in control as she went in for the kill. Within a minute he was painfully hard, desperate to enter her and furious that she’d driven him to the edge in a public place.

  He grabbed her arms and pushed her back until she looked at him, her eyes heavy and dazed with desire.

  She wasn’t playing with him. This is what she’d looked like that night in her room, right before the damn phone had rung. It took her a few seconds to focus, but whatever she saw in his expression startled her. In one smooth motion she slipped off his lap.

  Frank and Scott looked between him and Emily with confusion. Then Frank smiled and held out a fifty-dollar bill. Emily shook her head and took a step back.

  “That one was on the house,” she said, her voice shaky. Then she turned and walked away without looking back.

  “Holy shit, dude. What was that?” Scott asked.

  “I’m not sure, but I’m sure as hell going to find out.”

  Blood pumping madly through his veins, he strode across the room. It was all he could do not to break out in a run. Furious, aroused and confused, he headed straight for the dressing room. Emily was just tying the belt on her silky blue robe when he got there. She raised a brow at him but didn’t say a word.

  Two other women were in there getting ready.

  “Hey sweetie, you need something?” Cheryl asked.

  “I just need to talk to Emily for a second,” he said, trying to sound causal.

  He smiled tightly, hoping no one noticed his throbbing hard-on.