Her inspection reached Kevin.
He held his breath and leaned forward in his seat, along with every other person in the room she’d connected that intense gaze with.
Watch me.
Foxy Roxy strutted forward, lifting her knees and swinging her hips and hands. She was more animated than a runway model and less in-your-face sexy than the last dancer, but she was smokin’ hot. She reached the pole and did the standard circuits—swinging her feet around in the air, swinging her hand close to the men sitting in a ring around the stage. Her hand flattened around green bills, which she slowly tucked into her cleavage the way a man copped a feel.
Kevin’s mouth went dry.
She slid to her heels with her back to the pole and then straightened her legs, keeping her back flat and parallel to the floor. Again, a standard stripper move. Again, she owned it differently, turning in small increments and capturing the gaze of every person in the audience as she rotated around that pole.
Kevin reached for his wallet even as Jason produced a twenty.
But neither of them had to approach the stage.
With a high kick, she was off the platform and dancing through the crowd. Her hands outlined her curves as if showing how she wanted to be touched. And then she did the same to every member of the audience. Tracing. Touching. Teasing. Possessing.
Possess me.
The high plains Colorado crowd had never seen anything like Foxy Roxy. She accepted her due with hands that never dropped a dollar. Not that she was given any George Washingtons. Kevin registered a lot of twenties and fifties.
And then she was at his table, arching her back, lowering to a crouch, swiveling provocatively. She straightened and moved behind Kevin before he could blink, running her palms over his shoulders, to his elbows, reaching for hands as her breath wafted over his ear. She tucked his fifty into the stiff red fabric holding her cleavage and moved on to trace Jason’s face with her hands. And then she stepped around behind him, fingertips pausing on Jason’s neck, as if she were taking his pulse.
Kevin’s was through the roof.
What’s happening to me?
She was touching another man, and Kevin was turned on.
Their gazes connected over Jason’s straw cowboy hat, hers a surprising blue. Her eyes widened slightly, and then she strutted her way to the stage with a swing of white blond hair streaked with one strand of red.
The roar of appreciation was deafening. The bridal party in the back was howling for an encore.
Several of Kevin’s body parts clenched. Sweat broke out on his forehead.
What just happened?
He felt as if he were a teenager and had just had a hot make-out session in the backseat of his car only to be busted by the cops before—
A voice inside his head—one that sounded a lot like Barbara’s—said, What are you doing in a club like that? What if someone recognizes you?
The deejay began to play dance music. The women in the bridal party were snatched up like free food at a golf tournament. Neither Jason nor Kevin was going home with a woman tonight, certainly not the masked and mysterious Foxy Roxy.
But what would it be like to take that woman home?
Kevin sucked in air, reminding himself he was the chaste mayor, the proverbial minister of town hall, the man with political aspirations. Just being here was risky. Taking a woman like that anywhere? Political suicide.
“Time to go, Jason.” Kevin did his best to be invisible, to gather Jason and try to inconspicuously walk out the door—impossible when escorting a cowboy on crutches, especially one who wouldn’t shut up.
“Dang. The look on your face.” Jason laughed. “You’ve never seen porn, have you? Watching you watch Fox-xy Rox-xy was like watching a virgin get deflowered.”
It was all Kevin could do not to sweep Jason’s good leg out from under him.
And then a voice inside his head—one that sounded like his father’s—said, If you want to serve the public, you need a woman who won’t be like a rock tied to your ankle in a deep pond.
Kevin wanted to be a politician. He wanted to help communities live better lives.
But he also wanted…platinum blond hair and black bustiers…what he couldn’t have.
Clearly, he needed female companionship, to date but not play the field. That would only earn him a reputation like Iggy King.
Clearly, he needed to date a woman above reproach, someone who’d keep him at home watching movies on Netflix instead of going to burlesque clubs.
He didn’t need Foxy Roxy or a reputation. He needed someone as boring as Barb thought he was on the outside, someone who’d be an asset to his political career, someone who didn’t have aspirations of her own.
Kevin reminded himself of a woman he knew that would fit the bill.
Mary Margaret Sneed.
* * *
“What was that?” Ned, the club owner, followed Mary Margaret back to the dressing room.
“I told you. It was one of my routines.” Mary Margaret hurried down the hall, planning her escape.
Kevin and Jason had been in the audience!
I could’ve been made!
Kevin had given her money!
And she’d almost dropped it when she’d realized she’d been about to nibble his ear.
Amateur.
“I’m not complaining.” Ned dogged her steps. “What I meant was, you told me you could dance but you didn’t tell me you’re a pro. Do other burlesque clubs have their dancers go out in the audience?”
“Yes.” Mary Margaret burst into the small dressing room and closed the door behind her, shutting Ned out. In a few seconds, she had her cash in her purse and her Santa dress off. It took a bit longer to remove her mask and blond wig, and to tug on her jeans and sweatshirt.
What if Kevin or Jason recognized her car out back?
Mary Margaret’s stomach dropped to the floor.
Meanwhile, Ned was shouting through the door about return engagements.
“Were they applauding you?” Didi had a science book open on her dressing table. She was studying to be a vet tech.
“I guess I just lost top billing.” Angie didn’t look like she cared much. She had a baby and a second job waitressing at the nearby diner.
Both their performances had been uninspired, as if they were strippers who’d decided to keep their clothes on.
“I’m not sure I’m coming back.” Not if Sunshine residents frequented the club. Mary Margaret slung her purse across her body, put on her black jacket, and crushed her pinned hair beneath a black knit cap.
“What?” Ned shrieked when she opened the door. “You can’t dance like that and then not return.” He followed her toward the back door. “I’ll pay you double.”
“Fifty bucks a night?” It killed her to say, “I don’t think so.” She’d thought this might solve her problems with Laurel and Hardy but her teaching position was at stake. “Your acts are all wrong. Burlesque is more tease and less in-your-face sex-me-up. You have no group dances, no comedian, no grand finale.”
If Kevin recognized her…
Her steps slowed. What was the mayor of Sunshine doing in a dance club?
Well, duh. He was recently divorced and had every right to a night of fun.
“Listen.” Ned caught her arm and lowered his voice. “If you become a regular dancer, I’ll give you a hundred bucks a night. Seventy-five people paid to get in tonight. With you dancing, the gate doubles.”
His drink sales would double too.
The neon P in the Hanky Panky sign on the street sizzled, and shorted.
Her father would have said that was a sign from above.
Of course, he would’ve slapped her for even stepping foot inside the club.
But I made five hundred bucks.
Mary Margaret hesitated, rubbing the scar at the back of her neck.
“Sinner,” Dad hissed, holding one of her flimsy black costumes in his fist and shaking it to the heavens. “You’
re a betrayal of everything I stand for. I must cast you out before you infect your mother.”
Cast her out. Like Mary Margaret was diseased.
“What’s this about group dances?” Ned demanded. “Do people like that?”
She blinked, coming back to the present—the dingy hall, Ned’s powder blue velvet smoking jacket. “People love a good burlesque revue. It becomes theater. It earns respectability.” Well, that was a stretch in a small town like Sunshine, and maybe even for a bigger small town like Greeley. She faced him. “Is that something you’re interested in?”
“I’m interested in making more money,” Ned grumbled, face reddening. “I opened this club to make my girlfriend happy but she left me for our bartender before we opened. Merry Christmas to me.”
“You were left in a lurch.” Mary Margaret nodded, seeing Ned’s plight in a new light. She’d been a business major for a year before turning her focus to education. She clutched her backpack strap and faked confidence. “I’ll dance two nights a week for one hundred per night and a cut of the gate. I’ll train your dancers two nights a week for the same deal.”
Ned scowled. “I can’t afford that. My cover is only five bucks.”
He really was in over his head. She snapped her jacket closed. “You should be charging ten. And if the revue is a success, you can charge thirty-five for reserved tables in front.” She had his attention, although he still regarded her with disbelief. “And no one would complain if your booze wasn’t watered down.” Ned never should have offered Mary Margaret that shot of vodka to toast her inaugural dance. “Charge ten. I’ll take four, plus my hundred. Two nights a week.”
She offered her hand.
Ned’s scowl turned into a thoughtful frown. She had no idea what he’d done before opening this club but he might have the skill to turn it around if she gave him the know-how.
“Three from the gate,” he said. “Choreograph two nights a week. Dance three nights a week. Two dances a night.” He shook his finger at her. “And I want some of those group dances.”
“You forgot my hundred.” Mary Margaret decided a little leverage was in order. Pretending to leave, she pushed through the back door into the crisp, cold night air.
At the far end of the parking lot, Kevin was walking a slow-moving Jason to his truck. He looked their way.
Slouching, Mary Margaret turned her back on him.
What am I doing? I can’t get away with this.
“You’re killing me.” Ned had followed her out. “What am I going to say to my regulars?”
His words reminded her of the muscle the online casino had sent to collect Derek’s debt. She was backed in a corner. Still, she wasn’t prepared to leap at the first chance of escape.
“Why not tell them at the holidays they should enjoy special shows?” That was a stretch.
Ned blew out a long breath. “Okay. I throw in the hundred every night you show, whether you dance or not. You can start on Tuesday. Be here by nine.”
Mary Margaret glanced over her shoulder.
Kevin still stared her way.
He’s going to come back. He’s going to unmask me.
She tried to suppress the feeling of excitement that idea created, because it should be fear making her heart trip, not awareness of broad shoulders and a dangerously stubbled beard.
“Well?” Ned was impatient.
“I’ll have to get back to you.” She couldn’t pull the trigger.
The risk of discovery was too great.
Chapter Four
Tad, don’t eat paste.” Mary Margaret’s words drifted to Kevin before he reached the open door to the kindergarten classroom on Monday morning.
Uh-oh. He wanted to ask Mary Margaret out. His son’s behavior didn’t exactly smooth the way. Kevin hesitated in the doorway, struck by the idea that this was a calculated move when romance should be spontaneous.
Green triangles of paper were scattered on Tad’s desk waiting to be pasted on his paper.
“Spit it out, Tad.” Mary Margaret held a brown paper towel beneath Tad’s chin. She looked almost amused, as if this happened more often than not.
Given this was Tad, Kevin was willing to wager on more often.
The white paste came out of Tad’s little mouth in slimy chunks. Plop-plop-plop.
Tad gagged. “Ninjas don’t like paste.”
Kevin fought a grin.
Mary Margaret whisked away the globs of paste with one hand while rubbing Tad’s little back with the other. “Nobody likes paste, Tad. The taste won’t be different, no matter how many times you try it.”
She understands my kid. Bonus points.
Tad’s gaze lit upon Kevin. “Daddy!” He wiggled out of his seat and ran to give Kevin a hug. “Did you come to help me with my holiday book?”
Kevin knelt down, arms outstretched. There was nothing as good as one of his kid’s hugs.
“The holiday book is a surprise,” Mary Margaret murmured demurely. She wore a green tunic sweater, skinny jeans, and blue Keds. It was nothing as tantalizing as red, sky-high heels, a brassiere shaping breasts like missiles, or an attitude that said she could handle any man.
He stood and swung Tad into his arms. His son had paste in his hair and a smudge of something red on his cheek.
Mary Margaret swooped in, wiped Tad clean, and then retreated.
Kevin’s breath caught in his throat. She was perfect, so compassionate and caring. Kevin tried to give her a smile that said he knew it but she busied herself with another student, Elizabeth Franklin. Her mother was one of Barb’s close friends.
“Are you taking me to work with you after school, Daddy?” Tad frowned. “It’s Monday.”
Barb had Tad on Saturday, after the salon closed, through Tuesday morning. Kevin had him the rest of the time, and if he had events that ran late, his parents took Tad.
“No, buddy. I…” Kevin shouldn’t have come during Mary Margaret’s working hours but it had been over a decade since he’d asked a woman out and he’d forgotten all the unwritten rules. Now that he was here, he couldn’t just leave without an excuse for stopping by. “I wanted to talk to your teacher about something.”
Tad’s teacher moved quickly on from Elizabeth and knelt next to a little girl with thin blond hair who was coloring far outside the lines but didn’t look like she cared.
Mary Margaret half-glanced over her shoulder. “Mr. Hadley, my meeting times are before and after school.”
Blocked, Kevin set Tad on the floor.
His son gave him a once-over. “Daddy, did you get a hall pass from Ms. Adams in the office?”
“No.” Kevin was blowing through protocol right and left—he had no appointment or hall pass. He tried the smile on Mary Margaret again, the one that said he admired her people skills more than her beauty. “If I could just have a quick word…”
Mary Margaret relented and led him to the door, looking as if she were about to be led to the gallows. “Class, I’ll be right back.”
They stepped into the hallway. The sound of the door closing echoed around them like a water drop in a large, empty cave.
“Well? Go on. Say it.” Mary Margaret settled her hands on her hips the way Foxy Roxy had the other night. The effect wasn’t as jaw dropping or as mesmerizing but it made him want to smile. There was an interesting personality beneath that cool exterior, just waiting to be discovered.
Just like me.
“I was wondering if…” Kevin’s words echoed down the hall. Other classroom doors were open. Someone was lecturing about basic subtraction. If he asked Mary Margaret out now, everyone in school would hear. “This is difficult.” And awkward. If only he had an excuse to see her. If only she was an active citizen. A volunteer.
Of course!
Kevin cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “You know, the town has a big decision regarding the company that wants to build a distribution center near the interstate.”
“I thought you…” Her brow furrowed. “Are y
ou asking my opinion?”
“Yes. I’m assembling a special group of residents to discuss town issues, and I’d like you to be on the panel.” That was a complete and total lie. He hadn’t thought of the panel until just now.
Mary Margaret’s gaze did a circuit of the hallway, passing over his face with barely a pause. “I’m very busy, especially this time of year. And I’m…trying to fit in a second job.” She looked embarrassed to admit this fact.
“It won’t take up much time, and it would mean so much.” To Kevin, as a way of getting to know her better.
Talk about abusing executive privilege. His shoulders bunched at the base of his neck.
He was considering apologizing for bothering her when she spoke. “When does this committee meet?”
Criminy. He still had a shot. “I haven’t ironed out all the details,” he said hurriedly. “If you could just give me your number…” He pulled out his cell phone and waited.
She seemed to hold her breath, deciding. He liked that she contemplated her decisions carefully.
His cell phone buzzed with a message from Barb: Where are you?
He made a disgusted noise, which echoed and rebounded, filling the hallway.
“Good thing you didn’t cuss,” Mary Margaret whispered in a teasing voice. “Curse words have a special echo in the school hallway.”
Bless her for having a sense of humor. The tension in his shoulders eased. “Is that so?”
“Yes. Especially curse words about ex-spouses.” Her gaze shuttered. “That was out of line. I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize.” He swiped the message notification from his screen. “The court may have declared us through but Barb’s having a hard time with the concept.”
Mary Margaret nodded, reaching for his phone. She created a contact and returned his device. “Let me know when you’re meeting but I can’t promise anything.” She returned to her charges, leaving him standing in the hall, proud of himself.
For obtaining a woman’s number under false pretenses.
He berated himself all the way back to the office.
In between mentally patting himself on the back.
A Very Merry Match--Includes a Bonus Novella Page 5
