bundles of testosterone willing to give her everything they had for just one more peek. Loved that she was giving a thrill to those who had no one, and to those with someone waiting for them a reason to go home and give that woman a thrill of her own.
And then she thought of Conner, out there, waiting for her to come out and perform. How terrifying was that? Because suddenly she realized there was nothing she wanted more than to have him take her home and give her a thrill.
She was nothing if not realistic. She knew a man like him would never love her back. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy him while he still wanted her. And he did want her. Anyone with eyes could see that.
So why was she wasting time? The man was out there, waiting, needing to be seduced. Quickly. Before Agent Duncan found Darla and the Quetzal-crazed maniac, and Vera had to go back to her old life.
This life.
Without Conner.
The long chords of her organ music started. Her cue.
She fluffed the skirt of her faux wedding gown and gave her breasts an extra push up.
Okay. This was it.
The man didn’t stand a chance. When she was done with this performance, he’d be putty in her hands.
At least for a little while. Longer if she was lucky. Until life intervened and he came to his senses.
But in the meantime he’d be hers. All hers.
Her very own Prince Charming.
For one magical night.
Chapter 10
Conner sat back in his seat, exhaled a long, long, long breath and willed the goose bumps running up and down his arms to go away.
His body was painfully aroused, throbbing hard and craving satisfaction.
The woman was a witch, pure and simple. She’d bewitched him. Again. Totally. Thoroughly. Unabashedly. She’d danced her dance of the seven veils with that gossamer white wedding costume, and he’d been as lost as King Herod, ready to throw whatever she wished at her feet. Money. Fame. His heart on a platter.
Damn. How pathetically cliché was this? Rich man falling for a much younger stripper, willing to alienate his family, his friends, his entire social circle, to be with her.
How could he even consider it?
He’d be on the front page of every tabloid, laughed at behind his back. His career would suffer. His family would be embarrassed. Probably end up being disowned by his overly socially conscious father.
All because he suddenly couldn’t imagine his life without Vera Mancuso in it.
And yet, there it was.
He wanted her anyway.
He wanted her.
But he just couldn’t. Couldn’t do that to his family. Couldn’t toss aside everything he’d worked so hard to achieve.
There had to be another way.
A way to have her, all to himself, but not expose either of them to the severe downsides of a relationship like theirs.
Relationship.
He shuddered, and even more goose bumps broke out on his flesh. What was he thinking? There must be a—
“Mr. Rothchild?”
With a start, he came back to the present. Vera had left the stage ages ago, and another girl had replaced her. Ever since, he’d just been staring into space, his mind whirling in a chaos of growing panic.
He turned to see a middle-aged man with an obviously expensive but still oddly ill-fitting suit standing by his table. “Yes?”
The man extended his hand. “I’m Lou Majors, the manager, Mr. Rothchild. Welcome to the Diamond Lounge.”
Ah. If it wasn’t Lecherous Lou himself. Conner projected his voice over the bass-heavy stripper music blaring from the loudspeakers, “Thank you. Won’t you join me?” It never hurt to schmooze the enemy.
“Don’t mind if I do.” The manager snapped his fingers at a hostess, who hurried over with another bottle of champagne. This time it was Cristal. Nice.
Also pretty nervy, because Conner was the one who’d end up paying for it. Not that he cared. Beat the hell out of the cheap stuff he’d been drinking.
“Enjoying the floor show?” Lou asked politely, leaning in so he could be heard.
“Absolutely. Some parts more than others.” Conner sent him a knowing, male-bonding-type smile.
Lou smiled back amiably. “Couldn’t help but notice. You’re acquainted with Miss LaRue, I take it?”
LaRue? Oh, right. Vera’s stage name. “Yes. Met her here, actually. Yesterday.”
At the reminder of the disruption, a shadow of annoyance passed through the manager’s eyes but was quickly gone. “Her lawyer, I take it.”
Conner winked lasciviously and leaned in closer. “Who could resist?” May as well go for broke. If the scumbucket thought she had a wealthy protector, he’d never dare fire her. “But I’m no longer her lawyer. I passed her case to a colleague. ” He lowered his voice, confidential-like. “Conflict of interest, if you get my drift.”
He did. Lou couldn’t have looked more pleased if Conner’d just handed him a stack of hundred-dollar bills. Which no doubt was exactly what the old roué had in mind. “I see.” Several seconds went by as the manager regarded Conner. Finally he said, “Mr. Rothchild, I have a very special offer to make you.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
Lou beckoned, rose and led him through the club to the sweeping red-carpeted staircase that led upstairs. On the way up, he refilled his champagne flute and handed it back. “I think you’ll be very interested in this unique opportunity.”
They ducked into the same VIP room as yesterday. Conner raised a brow questioningly. “What’s this all about?”
Lou cleared his throat. “Are you the kind of man who likes…private parties, Mr. Rothchild?”
His brows rose higher. “That depends on who’s invited.”
“Men such as yourself. Wealthy. Discriminating. Discreet.”
Suddenly, it hit him. Good Lord. If this was going where he thought it was going, the Parker case just got a huge break. “Go on.”
“The ladies are of the highest caliber, of course. Only the best, most beautiful women are in attendance. Women who will cater to your every whim.”
Lou looked at him expectantly, the man’s crude
