My Double Life: Wild and Wicked

by Joanne Rock

  “I’m content with my job,” I said finally. “Although I’m flattered you thought my advice was useful, I didn’t really go into the depth necessary—”

  “But you could have,” he pressed. “If I wanted to explore those options for diversifying my investments, you could have pointed me toward exactly what I need, couldn’t you?”

  “Maybe.” Actually, I had a hard time being modest about this one area of my life. I was excellent at my job. I studied financial news closer than most people in this town read Variety. It made sense to me.

  “I want you in charge of my account at Sphere.”

  “Oh, no.” I rose from the table and paced in front of the sideboard. “That’s a bad idea.”

  “Why? I want my money working for me, and you know how to make that happen.”

  “So does Fawn,” I reminded him. Plus, Fawn would pass along my recommendations anyhow. It would be just the same as working with me, only she was a more articulate, elegant face for the business.

  “I like you better,” he insisted stubbornly.

  Nervousness set off every one of my panic buttons as I thought about how badly this could go. Why had I sent him that email? If I’d just let him figure out his finances on his own, none of this would have happened and we’d be taking a long, luxurious shower together right now. Or maybe chasing each other around the huge hot tub I’d spotted in a corner of the yard last night.

  “What happens when we—that is, what if things don’t work out between us personally?” I didn’t want to think about that, but I had to be realistic.

  Trey Fraser was a fantasy man.

  He rose from the table, capturing my shoulders between broad hands.

  “We’re grown-ups,” he assured me. “I’m not going to become some petty jerk if you decide you don’t want to see me anymore.”

  Me? Not want to see him?

  Clearly, he was just being polite.

  “Even if I wanted to take over your account,” I shook my head, approaching the problem from another angle, “I couldn’t. It’s not my job.”

  “If a client specifically requests you, Courtney, it will be your job.” He kissed my cheek and some of my worries melted a little. “All I want to know is this—do you have any objections to working with me?”

  Now was my chance to shut down this crazy line of thinking. It would only stir problems at work. But selfishly, I liked the idea that I might still see him, even after we weren’t involved romantically.

  And the pride in my professional abilities that I usually stifled was definitely making noise now. I knew I could put his money to work more effectively for him.

  “Of course I won’t object,” I conceded. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you get that film studio off the ground.”

  * * *

  A WEEK LATER, Trey had to admit that Courtney had more than lived up to her word.

  He waited for her in the conference room at Sphere, reading over the thick packet of proposed investments she’d generated for him. He’d made the call requesting her to personally oversee his accounts the same day she’d agreed to it, and by the next day, she’d been knee-deep in research for him.

  So much so, in fact, he hadn’t seen her in person since they’d spent the night together. Guilt nipped at him now for putting her in a position where she felt she had to prove something to him, her boss and her co-workers. Still, as he read through her comprehensive suggestions for everything from selling his European property to renting out a yacht he rarely used, he knew that he’d made a smart business decision by insisting on her as his account rep.

  Yet what had he done to their fledgling personal relationship? He’d put them on an uneven footing by becoming her personal client. He’d practically ensured she’d be too busy to go out with him. For all he knew, maybe he’d sabotaged something really special between them for the sake of one-upping his father. But he’d put together a profile of her short-term returns on investment based on some examples she’d outlined in her suggestions for his business, and he’d been floored to think how well she’d done for Sphere clients.

  All while the account reps took the majority of the credit.

  “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Trey.” Courtney breezed into the conference room a moment later, her white tennis shoes at odds with a deep rose-colored suit that flattered her dark hair. “I took my lunch hour at the dance studio and traffic was crazy getting back here.”

  He’d be willing to bet she had no idea she still wore her sneakers. The quirky clothes that would have made him smile a week ago made him feel like crap now, since she’d had to rush on his account.

  That wasn’t the only thing he noticed. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail that rested on one shoulder, her bangs swept to one side. One eye was still partially covered in the long fringe, but the other met his gaze directly.

  “It’s okay.” He got to his feet to greet her, fighting the urge to pull her into his arms. He looked over his shoulder at the open conference room door and lowered his voice. “I’d kiss you, but I’m guessing you’d prefer I don’t.”

  Her cheeks flushed a pink that matched her jacket.

  “Ah. Yes. But a rain check would be welcome.”

  “Is anyone else joining us?” He eyed the door again. “If it’s just us, I could take you out for a meal since you skipped your lunch.”

  “I’d better not, but thank you.” She strode back to the door and closed it, sealing them in the privacy of mahogany wainscoting and heavy bookshelves full of imposing tomes. “Piles of work to do at the office.”

  “I’m sorry if this was too much, Courtney—”

  “No!” She rushed to reassure him, taking the seat beside him so he caught a whiff of her fresh, green scent. “Not at all. This new responsibility has been an eye-opening experience for me. It’s been busy, but great.”

  “Honestly?”

  “Yes.” She smiled, her hand dropping onto his arm as she shifted closer. “I was worried at first about how everyone at the office would react, but they seem happy for me. You sort of forced me to live up to my potential around here, and that’s been a good thing.”

  “Good, except that I haven’t gotten to see you alone all week.” He didn’t want to pressure her more, but damn it, she was in his head all the time lately. “Let me take you out tomorrow night.”

  “I can’t.” Her fingers slid away from his arm.

  The knot of disappointment in his chest surprised him. He hadn’t planned on getting so close to her so fast. Especially when his professional life had to come first until he got out of his father’s shadow for good.

  “Some other time then,” he started.

  “Unless you want to come to Backstage for my show,” she blurted.

  “What?” He hoped he’d misheard.

  “After the success of my first show, they want me to return for a repeat performance.” Her gray eyes sparkled with mischief.

  “I thought that first night was a fluke.” He tried to recall what she’d told him about dancing at the club. “You said you were filling in for your friend because she was hurt.”

  Just thinking about her half naked on that stage, with a room full of greedy male eyes on her, made him tense all over.

  “I was.” She leaned closer as if she was afraid someone in the hall could hear her already quiet voice. “But the show was such a hit they offered Natalie Night a one-time slot before her regular appearances begin this fall.”

  “And you took it?” He hadn’t realized he’d spoken the thought aloud until she answered.

  “I haven’t accepted yet, but I plan to.” Maybe his relief showed on his face because she rushed to continue. “You have no idea how that first show turned my life around. I braved an audience when I’ve always been incredibly insecure. I met you. I got a job for my friend.” She ticked off the points on her fingers, her simple gold bangles tinkling softly with the movement. “I’m being trusted with more work responsibilities when I never would have
guessed I’d operate on this level.”

  “But the risks are greater for your job now, right? I thought you needed to be careful no one recognizes you or you could have problems at work.” He figured reminding her of the stakes was better than sounding like an autocratic, possessive jerk and telling her flat-out not to perform.

  Because, damn, he did not want her anywhere near that stage again.

  Her lips flattened into a hard line. “I suppose you’re right. I just thought it would help Natalie. And, of course, let me relive an exciting moment.”

  Trey shoved aside the investment proposal on the conference table and took her hands in his.

  “At the risk of sounding arrogant, I’d like to think it wouldn’t be half as exciting without me.” His heart slugged a heavy rhythm in his chest while he waited, hoping like hell she’d agree.

  She slanted him a smoky look. “That’s not arrogance. That’s a fact.”

  “Well, then.” His hands itched to touch her. To skim over her curves and slide under the hem of her jacket to feel what she wore beneath. “I don’t think you can make your engagement because I don’t plan to be at Backstage tomorrow night.”

  “No?” She arched a brow, undressing him with her eyes. “Where will you be?”

  “I’m going to be tied up with a brainy brunette—”

  “Tied up, you say?” She leaned closer, breathing him in.

  “A figure of speech.” He skimmed a finger along her knee under the table.

  “Not if I make it a reality.”

  The conference door swung wide without warning. Trey settled back in his chair slowly, but he noticed Courtney sprang from him like she’d been burned. Her cheeks were an even brighter pink than before.

  The receptionist backed into the room, her attention focused on a silver tray with a teapot, teacups and bottles of water.

  “Th-thank you, Star.” Courtney shuffled some papers on the table.

  “Sure.” Star peered their way as she set the tray on a credenza against the far wall. “Sorry I didn’t get the refreshments here earlier.”

  “No problem. Thanks,” Courtney repeated. Her hands shook slightly, the papers she held quivering with the motion.

  Seized with the urge to cover her fingers with his, Trey was reminded of the awkward woman he’d first met in this room. Courtney’s confidence really had come a long way in a short time. What if he was depriving her of a chance to solidify that self-esteem by discouraging her from dancing at Backstage?

  When her coworker departed, Courtney’s elbows hit the table, her shoulders slumping forward.

  “Who am I kidding?” she asked herself more than him as she covered her eyes with her hands. “This is insane.”

  “What is?” He leaned forward, too, gently tugging away one arm so he could see her better. “I’d say it’s insane that you’ve waited so long to claim your rightful place here. You have too much to offer to take a backseat.”

  She pried open one eye, still hiding the other.

  “I never stutter in front of Star. She must have known something was up.”

  “She probably thought you were nervous during one of your first client meetings, which would only be natural.”

  After a long moment, she nodded. “Maybe.”

  “Would it really help you to dance again?” He didn’t want to deny her something that had been...therapeutic. Her pole-dancing half dressed in front of salivating guys might give him nightmares, but if it helped Courtney work out some of her anxieties, he could grit his teeth through one more performance.

  He hoped.

  “I don’t know.” Her voice was thin. Her face pale. “I definitely can’t afford to lose this job. You’re right about that much.”

  “But you want to dance,” he clarified, trying to get to the heart of the matter.

  She dropped her other arm and folded her hands on the table. Looking at him full-on, she said, “Only if you’re there.”

  A bolt of heat shot through him at the thought. He might hate the idea of anyone else seeing her. But he couldn’t deny the appeal of Courtney performing for him alone.

  “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  11

  BEING LESS NERVOUS apparently made me more nervous.

  I realized this fundamental truth as I compulsively adjusted and readjusted the strap on the back of my domino mask while I sat at the mirrored makeup table in the Backstage dressing room.

  Not many of the other dancers had arrived yet since I would be on stage first, but wigs, headdresses, hot rollers and hair dryers were strewn from one end of the room-length counter to the other. The bass line from a sultry soul song thumped through the floor and vibrated in my feet while one of the white lights surrounding my mirror flickered on and off with an electric buzz. The two girls that went on after me were circulating in the crowd, leaving me alone for now.

  And somehow, feeling more confident earlier that evening had caused a weird mood tailspin. I began wondering why I wasn’t nervous, ultimately deciding I couldn’t do a good show unless I was completely overwrought, since that was how I’d gone out onto the stage the first time I’d performed in public.

  So I went about the business of getting completely spun-up. Never a tough assignment for me. I just hoped Trey was out there in the crowd. Maybe seeing him would distract me from this mental muddle, the way it had last time.

  Inside my makeup bag, I heard my cell phone buzz. I still had ten or fifteen minutes before my entrance, so I retrieved the incoming text. An update on some activity in the Asian markets, but nothing earth-shattering. To calm my nerves, I scrolled through the rest of my messages from the last couple of hours. An unidentified number caught my eye.

  It was from Star. Strange, since she rarely texted me.

  “The woman who taught dance moves at my bachelorette party is performing at Backstage tonight! I’m going with Lisa from HR to cheer her on if anyone wants to join us...”

  Oh. Crap.

  The message had been sent to...I scrolled back to the top...six other women besides me. Three of them worked at Sphere. Star must have gotten some kind of update that Natalie Night had a show this evening and decided to make it a girls’ night out. That message had been sent over an hour ago.

  While I contended with a new wave of panic, my phone buzzed again.

  “I’m by the bar! Where R U?”

  It must be a text to the group. The kicker on this one? It had been sent by Fawn Barrows.

  Natalie had told me this was a bad idea. Trey had discouraged me from doing this, too. Yet I had persisted and ultimately prevailed. And now I was going to go down in flames in spectacular fashion. That is, if my sweating palms didn’t cause me to slide off the pole and break my neck first. Actually, that would be preferable to being unmasked by Fawn Barrows, Ms. Perfect.

  “Ms. Night?” The head bouncer stuck his head in the door without knocking, his usual M.O., I recalled. “Are you ready?”

  My heart rate sped. Hyperventilation loomed as a distinct possibility. I nodded, since there was no way I’d be able to utter a coherent sentence.

  What the hell had I been thinking to schedule this stupid dance appearance? I should have just been happy with the strides I’d made in my life instead of getting greedy. And let’s face it. Possibly I’d done this in some lame effort to make sure Trey remained interested in me. I didn’t want to examine that possibility. Maybe I’d never really believed that I deserved a guy like him.

  “Ms. Night?” The bouncer frowned, stepping fully into the dressing area.

  Shoving my cell phone back into my bag, I tucked my purse into a bin beneath the dressing table and headed toward the door. I wasn’t ready. But I couldn’t just sprint out of the club the way I wanted to. Natalie wouldn’t be invited to return as a performer in the fall if I did. And I had no one to blame for this but myself, so the least I could do was see it through to its natural—disastrous—conclusion.

  * * *

  “TREY FRASER?” THE FEMININE
voice sounded vaguely familiar and Trey’s gut sank before he turned around to see who’d recognized him.

  Courtney would be making her appearance any moment, and the last thing he wanted was to be engaged in a conversation that took his focus off her. He wanted to watch her for one thing. And he suspected she might need to see him—make eye contact—as soon as she came out here. Possibly he was overestimating his importance in all this. Yet his gut told him she might be more nervous about this appearance than she’d originally thought.

  “Yes?” He turned as the lights dimmed and the music changed to a tune more appropriate for a burlesque show.

  “It’s great to see you!” the slim blonde in a red sheath dress said. “Remember me? Fawn Barrows from Sphere Asset?”

  Shit.

  Trey hoped his face didn’t convey his feelings. His gut sank to his toes as Courtney was introduced as Natalie Night. He applauded automatically, his eyes still on Fawn.

  “These are some friends from work.” She gestured vaguely to three women beside her. “We know the dancer and wanted to cheer her on.”

  His mind raced. They knew the dancer? Who the hell did they think it was? Then he recalled the photo in Courtney’s office and put the pieces together. Courtney must have met her dance instructor the same time as these other women from her workplace. But while she’d kept up the dance lessons, the rest of them had forgotten all about Natalie Night. Until now.

  Courtney was screwed if he couldn’t think of a way out of this.

  A collective cry of alarm went up from the audience and he spun around in his seat to see what was going on.

  Courtney wavered on unsteady feet, her hand awkwardly clenching the pole for a moment before she straightened. Had she slipped? Just then her eyes met his through the mask and she leaped gracefully up on the stage, winding sinuously around the steel support.

  “What happened?” he asked a guy to his right holding a longneck and watching Courtney like a hawk.

  “She stumbled before she got all the way up.” The guy rolled his eyes. “Although she seems to know how to handle a pole.” He gave a crude laugh.