“You’re a dancer, Charley, not an opera singer.” Lily went back to her pile of nothingness attire.

“How in the hell do I get myself in these situations?” Oh yeah. Wyatt. Charley paced and roamed. The room no longer held the same appeal-the books no longer invited.

“Because you are the best.” Lily stopped Charley with two hands on her upper arms. “The best. No one tops anything you’ve ever done.”

“You think I can pull this off?” You think I can keep Wyatt this time?

“Seriously?” Lily ran a hand through her hair. “What can’t you do, Charley? Answer me that. What can’t you do?”

Charley shrugged. Cael couldn’t imprint upon his memory and neither could James-they had to experience the action or reaction first hand. Lily’s talent lay in the details, and though she could change form to suit, she couldn’t hold it as long as the rest of them.

“I can’t be a man?” Charley flicked her wrist.

“Neither can I. That doesn’t count.”

“But Cael can be a woman.” Charley stopped at Lily’s glare.

Charley had drawn the long straw so long ago, with both the physical as well as mental talent. James came closest to her in a male’s form.

“You going to teach me, Lil?”

Lily laughed. “Ha! These three DVDs-one of which is Candie-and that pole.” Lily pointed. “You only have to practice enough to know the moves. Once you see her-” She added a hip thrust and a hand flick, her pinky held up. “-the rest will fall into place.”

“Please tell me it’s not porn.” Charley eyed Lily.

Efficient, effective and fun, Lily had been known to throw in a practical joke or two when she could.

“Not this time.” Lily waved it away. “Technique. I have four memoirs by former dancers, former prostitutes, or current ones-”

Charley interrupted before Lily could continue. “What exactly do you think I’ll be doing?”

Lily laughed. “One never knows. One must be prepared. Be the one, Charley. Be her.”

“Let’s get this party started.”

“First things first.” Lily held up two outfits with less material than a string bikini. “Red or blue?”


***

Wyatt shuffled as he walked toward the study. He thought back to how quickly the team took in the information he’d given them. A few questions, a few statements, complete acknowledgement. It troubled him that they didn’t seem worried.

He shook off his unease, reminded himself that professionals became professional for a reason.

He slowed at the volume of the rock music pumping from within the room. The ping of cymbals and bass grew louder as he approached. Wyatt stopped, took a step backward, gave up and leaned a shoulder into the frame of the door. He shifted his back against the wall, drew up the papers in his hand and pretended to read on the off chance anyone caught him loitering outside the door.

“Turn! Quickly!” Lily directed.

“This is hell, Lily, shut up!” Charley said.

Wyatt let out a small chuckle. He couldn’t imagine how the dark-haired beauty who sat across from him an hour before could both transform and learn the moves of a seasoned professional. He’d watched Candie, had an eye for all the details. Intelligence his forte, he’d positioned himself in such a way that she’d seen him, too. Her babble and his earful had been mere coincidence but one that would promote his career if he succeeded.

A few grunts, curses and screeches later, the music disappeared. He shivered at the tap on his shoulder.

“Hear anything interesting in there?” Cael leaned against the wall in much the same way Wyatt had.

“Ah… just waiting for the appropriate time to knock.” He shrugged. “You’re going to join us in Montreal, aren’t you?”

“Not that you know,” Cael said.

“You really think she can pull this off?” Wyatt met Cael’s gaze head on.

“I know she can,” Cael said as James walked up.

“Can what?”

“Become the stripper.”

“Exotic dancer.” Wyatt waved the papers as if the corrected title remained concealed within them.

“Ah, gotcha. Hot girl dancing with a pole, half naked. Doesn’t matter to me what’cha call her.” James grinned. He moved to the door, one hand on the handle. “Shall we?”

James nodded at Cael, who nodded at Wyatt, and each in turn sauntered in.

Charley slid down the shaft of silver until she met the solid surface of the floor beneath her. Fitted with a red, sequined skivvy, Wyatt noted she’d kept her body in alignment on the way down-a move much like he’d seen Candie complete.

Lily loaded a classic rock song, and Charley stood, one hand draped against the pole like one would hold a long-time lover.

A surge of desire coursed through his body. A punch to his shoulder pulled his attention away.

“Let’s watch the show.” James moved to one of the couches, pushed to the side before their arrival.

Charley gave them each a one-fingered come-hither, complete with lips and tongue, her body bent halfway, breasts hung in the skimpiest of straps.

Like James, Wyatt sat, but unlike him, he kept the whistles and catcalls to himself. He shifted with less comfort than the two at his sides.

Charley slid down the pole. She climbed again, creating patterns of movement that flowed with the deep base that rocked the house. At the top, she slid one leg up, hung perpendicular to the floor. Her toes rose higher to the point the caress they would have provided, if Wyatt took its place, sent tingles along his body.

As the music grew to a crescendo, Charley spun, a lock of her hair whipped around; she caught it between her teeth. Cael jumped up, pulled out his wallet and tucked a five under her strap. She blew an upside down kiss with her free hand that went straight to Wyatt’s lips. As Cael sat again, James pounded on the table.

Charley, with a grace Wyatt would swear he’d seen before, returned to the top, twisted her ankles around the pole and draped herself upside down, held by what looked like six inch heels.

Wyatt forced himself still.

James and Cael had earned the right to laugh and make jokes if they chose.

As the music stopped, Charley lay prone against the floor, her back arched and her legs up against the pole.

She turned to Wyatt. “You didn’t like it?”

Wyatt stared, lost in her eyes. Another punch to the shoulder proved his inability to get her out of his head would cost him. “What? No.” He shook his head in quick measure. “I mean yes. Yes, I liked it.”

“Then why didn’t you clap? Whistle or holler?” Still on the ground, her chest heaved. With each intake of breath, her breasts pressed further into the material.

Wyatt could barely control his facade. He tugged at his slacks to loosen them from his crotch. “I’m sorry, I was just trying to be professional.”

Charley shrugged. “Okay. You know? I have a new respect for women who do this for a living.” She sat up and rubbed her calf. “This is more of a workout than I would have expected.” She leaned her head back and chugged the cool water Lily passed her. Cael’s tip waved from the string at her hips.

She kneaded muscles Wyatt assumed had grown sore from the movement before she wound herself around the pole again. With one long, slender leg, her painted toes reached for the ceiling. Her body fell back so it lay as if suspended by air. Her movements reminded him of a trapeze artist: lithe, rhythmic, sensual and completely erotic, even as she stood.

“Damn, Charley,” James said.

Wyatt shifted himself again with a quick leg cross, noting James’s eyes tracking up and down as he walked to her.

She slithered closer.

“You are seriously hot.” James danced hip to hip with her.

“You like?” She ran her hands up and down her long body, enticed, aroused and invited the wrong person.

Wyatt wondered if she could feel the heat radiating from his own body. His temperature had to have skyrocketed.

James reached his hands out to capture hers and follow along as she lowered them.

“Crap!”

Charley’s abrupt pause brought Wyatt’s visual feast to a halt.

“What language does Candie speak at the club, Wyatt?”

Wyatt coughed, covered his mouth which he found hung open. He closed his eyes in thought, two fingers to the bridge of his nose. “Ah-” He’d already forgotten the question.

Charley’s body filled the black space that pervaded his mind. Another punch in the arm brought him from his lost thoughts.

“French and English. They try to hire bilinguals. Wait staff speak both, fluently. The dancers are mixed.” Wyatt focused on a book on the far side of the room, but his gaze returned to Charley’s each time he tore it away. “Is that a problem?”

The five fell like a feather to the floor from Charley’s attire. “No.” She bent over and caught it right before it landed-though Wyatt’s eyes found themselves riveted not to the money.

His failure to control his body’s reactions shamed him more than the heat that raced to his cheeks.

“I’ll be okay.” The softness in her eyes surprised him.

“You speak French, right?” He hadn’t thought to ask.

“I do. A little rusty, but I’ll get by.” Charley added a wink to which Cael and James both chuckled.

“You’re a moron, Charley. You speak them both fluently,” Lily said. “Time’s a wastin’. Do it again.”

“She’s right. We can chat about details and logistics on the plane.” James turned his watch toward him. “We’re wheels up in sixty or the jet takes off without us.”

“Slave drivers.” With a swish of her hands, Charley motioned them all toward the door.

Wyatt stood to follow her instructions like a good boy scout.

“Wyatt?”

He turned. “Yeah?” Cael and James stopped, too.

“Cars are waiting, guys-shoo!” Charley waved them out.

Wyatt’s heart began a dangerous thump in his chest.