couldn’t see the sudden center of attention with the throng of men to block his view, but he guessed either the stripper had arrived, or someone had smuggled a sexy power tool into the bar for his friends to admire.
Chances were, Zing-O-Gram had finally come through for him.
Downing another short swig from the champagne bottle—his last sip for the night so he could keep a clear head to stay in control of the party—Greg said a mental thank-you to the new arrival. Now that the stripper was here, he could move the evening along and hopefully salvage a few hours afterward to go over some demo tapes at home. As much as he wanted to ensure his brother had a good time, Greg hadn’t risen to the top of the heap at the television station by putting in the standard forty-hour work weeks. He had to review a three-mile-high stack of audio demos in a search for some fresh voice-over talent.
No sooner had he formed the thought than his senses were bombarded by the sexiest voice he’d ever heard.
“But I’m looking for Gregory…” a sultry feminine alto protested. “Is Gregory here?”
Howls of laughter emanated from the horde of males.
“Sure he’s here, honey.” Mike stepped into the fray. “He’s going to be real happy to see you.”
“I am supposed to deliver a Zing-O-Gram here, right?” Her gorgeous voice sailed over Greg’s senses. She had the sexy rasp of a torch singer.
Mike smiled, attempting to straighten his lopsided tie as he flashed her a killer grin. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
Greg slid off the bar stool, still squinting into the crowd to get a glimpse of the woman behind that incredible voice. After having cut his professional teeth in radio, Greg could recognize a memorable set of pipes. The anonymous stripper had them.
The sea of men approached Greg and Flanagan’s back room wearing interchangeable goofy grins. Greg had the feeling from their expressions that he was going to get his money’s worth for tonight’s performance. The stripper must be pretty hot to inspire such fawning before she’d wriggled out of her dress.
Mike reached Greg first. He clapped his brother on the shoulder and winked, then reached into the crowd. “Here’s Gregory, honey. He’s the man responsible for the party. I think he’s ready for the show.”
Mike pulled a female from the crowd. Men parted to make room for her and her…tail?
Greg took a quick inventory of the performer he’d ordered to please tonight’s bachelor party crowd. Weathered black kitty ears nestled into the woman’s silky, cinnamon-colored hair. Bright green eyes peered back at him over long black whiskers that were slightly askew. A pink triangle artfully painted over the woman’s nose completed the feline aspect.
She might have looked like she’d danced straight off the Barney set if she hadn’t been wearing an R-rated cat costume that hugged every curvy nuance of her body.
Greg swallowed as he took in the exposed tops of her breasts, thrust up high by an outfit that had to be too small for this generously endowed creature. The only place she seemed to have any breathing room was around her waist, a tiny curve that nipped in substantially from her rounded hips.
Who knew how long his eyes lingered over those hips. Why was it the furry black getup looked sexier than any showy combination of lace and satin?
Maybe it was the tail that wound around one hip and settled along her thigh, all the way down to her…tennis shoes. Hell, he saw Nike stock in his future. The long rope of black fur seemed to stroke and caress her leg with every breath the woman took.
Meow.
Perhaps he’d taken too long admiring her…outfit. Before he could introduce himself, the cat woman stuck out her hand.
“Hi.” She squeezed his fingers in a cool, professional grip. “I’m Jackie, the entertainment. This is your party?”
Her voice slithered over him, reminding him of smoky blues cafés and sultry jazz singers.
He nodded. He’d hired her after all. “I’m Greg.” Technically, it was Mike’s party. But her bill no doubt had Greg’s name on it. Besides, he wasn’t quite ready to turn her over to Mike’s friends just yet.
There was something compelling about Jackie the cat woman-stripper. Some classy, complex edge that her whiskers and kitty ears couldn’t diminish.
She frowned for a moment. “I see. Zing-O-Gram has been a bit overloaded this week. Sorry about the confusion.”
“Not a problem,” Greg assured her, honestly. Her late arrival hadn’t thrown off his schedule too much. “You’re here now and that’s all that matters. Can I get you a drink or anything else before you get started?”
Why did he find himself wanting to delay her show? Sure he was wildly curious about the body she was hiding underneath that kitten costume. But the notion of her being so completely revealed in a bar with all of Mike’s horny friends looking on suddenly disturbed him.
He’d heard of college students earning money for their tuition this way. Is that what had convinced Jackie to don the cat suit?
Jackie licked her lips, a gesture that seemed to suit her feline garb.
Greg tracked the progress of that small, pink tongue and found his own mouth had gone dry as dust.
“I wouldn’t mind a glass of water.” She glanced longingly at the bar.
Twenty guys shouted to the bartender for water.
Jackie shuffled on her tennis shoes as if nervous. Her tail seemed to twitch in response, drawing his attention unerringly to her long legs.
If Greg didn’t know better, he’d swear he was drunk. Since when did a stripper in a two-bit cat costume turn him on to this extreme? He was twisted in knots before she’d shed so much as a glove.
He rolled his shoulders in an attempt to work out one of those knots. Maybe he’d just been working too hard lately. He hadn’t been out on a date since his disastrous break up with the lady meteorologist…three months ago?
Obviously he was sex-starved. He just hadn’t realized it until Jackie had strutted her way into his life.
But he had no intention of acting on an impulsive attraction to a seductive pussycat.
Poor choice of images.
He tried in vain to staunch the blatantly sexual thoughts bombarding his senses. He needed to give Jackie her water and then allow her free rein to do her show.
Surely once she launched into her practiced routine of seduction, Greg would lose interest. Then he could get his mind off her…tail, and back on business.
JACKIE TUCKED HER TAIL closer to her body and gulped down her water gratefully.
The cat costume had never felt blatantly erotic until Greg De Costa had looked at her in it.
The man had her overheating, inside and out, and the soaring temperature didn’t have anything to do with being embarrassed at her birthday party snafu.
No.
