nearby. His flat, penetrating gaze—as if he was imagining her naked and finding her not up to par—made her stomach heave. A bead of sweat trickled down her back—it was stifling inside this coat.
But he seemed to be the obvious person to speak to, so she moved quickly. She straightened her spine and forced herself to look him in the eyes. Not easy when those eyes were staring at her chest.
But before she got a word out he twirled one fat finger and said, ‘If you’ve come about the job, take off that coat and show us what you’ve got.’
The hairs on the back of her neck prickled and, appalled, she tightened her belt. ‘I beg your pardon? I’m n—’
‘You won’t need a costume here, darlin’,’ he drawled, eyeing the garment bag over her shoulder. ‘We’re one down tonight so you can start on the tables. Cherry’ll show you. Oi, Cherry!’ His smoke-scratched voice blasted through the thick air.
Emma cringed as people looked their way, glad of her dark glasses. She summoned her frostiest tone. ‘I’m here to speak to Jake Carmody.’
He shook his head. ‘Won’t make a scrap of difference, y’know. Seen plenty just like you pass through the door hiding behind a disguise, expecting to make a quick buck on the side.’
‘Excuse me? Just tell me where I can find Mr Carmody so I can finish my business with him and be out of here.’
Those pale flat eyes checked her out some more as a woman approached toting a tray of drinks. She was wearing eighties gold hot pants and a transparent black blouse. Beneath her make-up Emma saw that she looked drawn and tired and felt a stirring of sympathy. She knew all about working jobs out of sheer necessity, and was grateful she’d never been quite so desperate.
‘Lady here wants to see the boss. Know where he is?’
The boss? ‘There must be some mistake …’ Emma trailed off. His PA had told her she’d find him at this address, but … he was the boss of this dive?
The woman called Cherry gave a weary half shrug. ‘In the office, last I saw.’
He jerked a thumb at a narrow staircase on the far side of the room. ‘Up the stairs, first door on the right.’
‘Thank you.’ Lips pressed together, and aware of a few gazes following her, she made her way through the club, keeping as far away from the action as possible.
The boss?
Despite the heat, she shivered inside her coat. His lifestyle was none of her business, but she’d never in a million years have expected the guy she remembered to be involved in a lower-than-low strip joint. He already had a career, didn’t he? A degree in business law, for goodness’ sake. Please don’t let him have chucked in years of study and a respectable livelihood for this …
Sleaze Central’s business obviously paid better. Money over morals.
She knew Jake from high school. He was one of Ryan’s mates, and the two guys had often turned up at home to catch up with her more sociable sister and listen to music. Emma had been either working one of her after-school jobs or experimenting with her soap-making, but there’d been a few times when Stella had persuaded her to chill out with them.
Jake the Rake, Emma had privately thought him. A chick magnet. Totally cool, ever so slightly dangerous, and way too experienced for a girl like her. Maybe that was why she’d always tried to avoid him whenever possible.
Hadn’t stopped her from being a little in love with him, though. She shook it away. Obviously her young eyes had been clouded by naïveté and love was definitely not in her life plan. Not ever again.
She heard him before she reached the door. That familiar deep, somewhat lazy voice that seemed to roll over the senses like thick caramel sauce. She was well and truly over her youthful crush on him, wasn’t she? He was on the phone, and as she paused to listen his tone changed from laid-back to harassed.
The door was open a crack and she knocked. She heard a clatter as he slammed the phone down, a short, succinct rude word and then an impatient, ‘Come in.’
He didn’t look up straight away, which gave her a moment to slide her sunglasses on top of her head and look him over.
Sitting at a shabby desk littered with papers, he was writing something, head bent over a file. He wore a sky-blue shirt, open at the neck, sleeves rolled up over sinewy bronzed forearms. Unlike the rest of this dive, his clothing was top of the line. Her gaze lifted to his face and her heart pattered that tiny bit faster. God’s gift with a sinner’s lips …
An unnerving little shiver ran through her and she jerked her eyes higher. His rich, dark hair was sticking up in short tufts here and there, as if he’d been ploughing his hands through it. Her fingers itched to smooth it down—
Good grief, she was lusting after a man who owned a seedy striptease venue—a man who not only used women but exploited them. Wanting to touch him made her as low as him and as bad as those pervs downstairs. But, despite her best efforts to ignore them, little quivers continued to reverberate up and down the length of her spine.
‘Hello, Jake.’ She impressed herself with her aloof greeting and only wished she felt as cool.
He glanced up. His frown was replaced by stunned surprise. As if he’d been caught in a shop window with his made-to-measure pants down. She blinked the disconcerting image away.
‘Emma.’ Putting his pen down slowly, he closed the file he’d been working on, took his sweet time to stand—all six-foot-plus of gorgeous male—and said, ‘Long time no see.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed, ignoring the tantalising glimpse of masculine hair visible at the neck of his shirt, the way his broad shoulders shifted against the fabric. ‘Well … we’ve all got busy lives.’
‘Yeah, it’s all go these days isn’t it? Unlike high school.’ He came round to the side of the desk with a smile that was like a lingering caress and did amazing tingly things to her body.
She took a step back. She needed to get out. Fast. ‘I can see you’re busy,’ she hurried on, keeping her gaze focused on his black coffee eyes. ‘I j—’
‘Are you here for a job?’
What? She felt her jaw drop, and for a moment she simply stared while her brain played catch-up and heat crawled up her neck. The sod. The dirty rotten sod. ‘I phoned your office—your other office—and your PA told me you were here.’
Her lip curled on the last word and she tossed the garment bag onto the desk, sending papers flying every which way. ‘Your suit for the wedding. If it needs altering the tailor says he needs at least three days’ notice, which is why I’m dropping it off tonight. Ryan’s interstate, and Stella had an appointment, so I—’
‘Emma. I was joking.’
Oh. She glimpsed the twinkle in his eye and took another step back. Twinkles were dangerous. And why wouldn’t he joke? Because no way did she measure up to those voluptuous creatures downstairs. ‘I don’t have time to joke today. Or anything else. So … um … you’ve got the suit. I’ll be off, then.’
He watched
