by Dawn Atkins
Autumn leveled her a look in the mirror. Don’t push me.
“Only if you’re interested.” She shrugged and busied herself with the blow dryer and round brush.
Autumn flipped through the pages, feigning nonchalance. She kept at it though, through the rest of the style, and carried the catalogs with her to the other chair, where she switched places with Nevada, who wanted an extension touch-up.
Heidi was explaining how a shorter, feathered cut would add appeal to Nevada’s small, round face, when she noticed that all three women were looking at each other in the mirror, smiling.
“Tell you what,” Nevada said. “I’ll let you whack off my hair if you’ll let us fix your look.”
“Excuse me?”
Now three sets of eyes trapped her in the mirror.
“The three of us have been talking about how we could pay you back and the obvious way is to improve your look. First of all, you’ve got the prettiest eyes, but they get lost because your lashes are stubby. I have some sable spikes that will really make your eyes pop.”
“And your foundation is too pale for your coloring,” Autumn added. “I have the same problem, being a redhead.”
“And that prison outfit you wear at Moons has got to go,” Nevada said.
“We know you’re broke,” Autumn said, “so we’ll chip in on something decent. Just come shopping with us.”
She looked into their eager faces. They’d planned this all out. So, what could she do but say yes and hope she wouldn’t end up looking like she belonged on stage, too, in a feathered G-string and see-through bikini?
12
ON THE NIGHT of the premiere, Heidi tugged at the scooped neck of the leotard the dancers had bought for her. She’d agreed to a minimal makeover and the most modest choice they’d offered was this black leotard with a short red-silk wraparound skirt that played peekaboo with her thighs. She felt a little too exposed. On her feet, she wore kitten heels with delicate straps, a compromise from the stacked stilettos the women had urged on her.
She smoothed the flyer attached to the hostess stand that proclaimed the first performance of “Let Us Entertain You” would begin in an hour. The photo showed the three dancers in their “Phoenix Rising” costumes, complete with the elaborate headdresses that Jackson had paid for and Jasmine had gotten Moons employees to assemble during breaks. Bartenders, waitresses and dancers had glued feathers until the room reeked of adhesive, and feather shreds floated like spidery snowflakes in the air.
Now Heidi chewed nervously on her index finger. Esmeralda would yank it from her mouth. Good Goddess of Light, if you won’t let me fix ’em, at least stop torturing the poor things.
That made her smile, which relieved her tension like a rubber band abruptly released. Her heart had been doing push-ups off her diaphragm for the last hour.
Tonight had to go well for the girls’ sake. And Jackson’s, too, since success with the band would propel him onward with managing. People had to pile in soon or opening night would also be closing night. The early regulars were already complaining about the extra five-buck cover charge.
She felt movement behind her and turned to find Jackson standing beside her. His gaze skimmed appreciatively over her body. Her heart stopped its push-ups and ricocheted against her ribs.
“I like the new look,” he said softly.
She hadn’t been sorry to say goodbye to the bag lady uniform. She’d made her point with Jackson and she enjoyed looking sexy as much as the next woman. “This breathes better than polyester.”
“It breathes, huh? Well, it’s making me pant.”
She smiled, flattered as always by his praise, remembering when he’d held up that ridiculous snakeskin dress and told her she’d look hot in it. He talks like that to all the women in his life, remember? He was an emotional island. Warm and welcoming, but an island all the same, with all that implied about self-containment. He’d offered her a brief vacation there and that ought to be enough. She had to stop wanting more.
“A watched parking lot never fills,” he said softly, placing a hand on her back. Heat radiated from his touch, soothing her as it had from that first hug the day of the robbery. Of course, his touch was more than comforting. Arousal hummed to life like a sturdy furnace in winter, promising no signs of slowing down at all.
“I can’t help it.” She turned to him and found herself practically in his arms. “A lot is riding on tonight for the girls.”
“They’re women, remember?”
“Right.” Trust him to use her arguments against her. “But this is a breakthrough. Autumn’s considering college. Jasmine’s more sure of herself and Nevada’s so determined she makes a drill sergeant look like a pussycat. If this doesn’t go well, I’m afraid it will sink their spirits.” She wouldn’t mention her hopes for him. He’d scored a midweek gig for the band at a Scottsdale resort and had auditions lined up at a few clubs. Last night, he’d left Taylor in charge of the bar for a couple of hours so he could be there for the first one. She’d convinced him Moons’ employees would all survive without him for a few hours here and there.
Jackson smiled a slow smile. “Don’t they teach you in shrink school you’re not responsible for other people’s lives?”
“You’re pretty savvy for a guy who claims to have only bars and tunes and maybe sports cars on his mind.”
“I’d rather surprise people than disappoint them.” He frowned at his confession, which explained a lot about him.
“Who did you disappoint?” His parents, she guessed, but she didn’t want to put him on the spot. “I mean, you’re always helping people, from what I see. Look at all you’ve done for the girls. Like buying those headdresses.”
He shrugged. “The girls had their hearts set on the stupid things.”
“Plus, didn’t I hear you intervene with Duke so Rox could do a school internship and still stay on part-time here?”
He shrugged. “You got me. So we’re both do-gooders.”
When they’d first met, she’d thought they were practically separate species, but they certainly shared this characteristic. Jackson had underestimated himself. He had so much potential. She could help him grow.
Don’t think you can change him, Autumn had warned. But hadn’t Jackson changed over the past weeks? Gone from being content to float from video game to weight bench to Moons, locked in orbit like a lonely asteroid, to building a band, arranging gigs, putting himself out there, all the while serving as solid support to her and the dancers?
What if they could be together? What if she had fallen in love with the first guy she met outside of Copper Corners?
Jackson was studying her face so closely she felt herself blush. “What’s wrong with your eyes?” he asked.
She lifted her fingers to her face, then realized what he meant. “Jasmine talked me into fake eyelashes.” She laughed.
“They look like furry caterpillars riding your lids.”
“They feel like it, too, but I promised Jasmine I’d try them out.” She reached up and tugged at one. It hung on, though, and the pain made her eyes sting. She blinked quickly.
“Let me do it.” He cupped her cheek with one hand and gently pried off the lashes, his fingers gentle on her face. He dropped the strips into her upturned palm. Then he tilted her face to examine her eyes. “Much better. You have great eyes just plain. And a terrific blink.”
“You’re complimenting my blink?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s very…promising.”
She blinked again. And again, reflexively, unable to stop herself, now that he’d drawn attention to the gesture.
“You’re really working me over, huh? Testing your sexual powers?”
“Sorry. Can’t help it.” But her body warmed at his words.
“You’re something else, you know that?” Jackson looked at her with the urgent desire she remembered so well. He ran his thumb along her jaw, lingering on her skin. He wanted to kiss her, she could tell, and she wanted that, too.
>
But she watched him gather himself, tone down the light in his eyes until all that remained was a mischievous twinkle. “When you finally get that diploma, your clients won’t know what hit ’em.”
“You make me sound dangerous.”
“Oh, you are. To me.” But he seemed to regret saying so and he changed the subject. “You enjoying the books I bought you?”
“I’ve started them.” She’d been too distracted, really. And exhausted. Working with the dancers every spare minute, fighting her desire for Jackson at night in bed when she could hear him clanking around with his weights or playing his keyboard, she couldn’t concentrate on serious things like other people’s personality disorders.
“That’s good. Get you geared up for school. You’ll knock your professors dead.”
“Sometimes it’s daunting. That’s a lot of heavy content.”
“Are you nuts? You could write those books. You know that stuff cold from real life. You’ve got the dancers eating out of your hand. And I bet you’ve got hair clients naming their children after you.”
“Oh, stop.” But she loved it. She felt more confident after his words. She looked into his eyes and saw affection, admiration, support. Love? Was there love?
There was lust. Plenty of that. She wanted to melt into it, go with it. Where was the harm? How could something that felt so good be bad for her?
“It’s nice having you around, Heidi,” he said, making her turmoil even worse. “Even when you polish the bathroom floor so I just about break my neck.”
“Sorry.” She cringed. “I read a tip about using car interior polish and—”
“I was too wrapped up in myself,” he said, cutting her off, almost in confession. “You opened my eyes. Thanks.”
“Thanks for taking me in. And…everything.” A feeling rose in her heart, the sense that something important had happened to her because of Jackson that wasn’t part of her plan but was nevertheless right. “I really—”
“Not much of a crowd.” Duke’s voice was sharp beside them. They both jumped a little. Duke eyed the nearly empty lounge and shot Jackson a pointed look. His nephew Stan, the jerk, mimicked his expression, then headed for the bar.
“It’s early.” Jackson shrugged.
Duke just looked at him, then followed his nephew.
“If a crowd doesn’t show, Duke will pull the plug,” Heidi said.
“If tonight’s slow, we have tomorrow. Then we’ll see.”
She was startled when he took her hand, laced his fingers with hers and squeezed. We’re in this together, partner. It felt so good that her knees buckled a little. She squeezed back.
They stared out at the parking lot together. Then Jackson spoke, his words soft and slow, heavy with meaning. “I never would have pulled the band together if you hadn’t hounded me. I haven’t felt this good about anything in a long time.”
She was so touched she could hardly speak. “You just needed a nudge.”
“You think that’s all you were…a nudge?” He turned to her. “How about relentless and unstoppable and undeniable and—”
She put a finger to his lips. “Don’t ruin it.” She tried to tease, but the finger on his mouth was too intimate and he didn’t smile. Instead, he looked at her in a way that shot fire through her. She let her finger drop away.
“—and irresistible,” he finished and then he kissed her. Softly, holding back, as if taking a sip of something very fine he intended to savor.
Stunned by the kiss—this was the first time he’d started an embrace—she stilled, wanting more, but not daring to go for it.
Jackson broke off the kiss as quickly as he’d begun it and turned her toward the street, pointing at several cars nosing into the parking lot. The first was a Mercedes from which two well-dressed couples emerged. After that came a Corvette with two young guys, followed by a Hummer with a half-dozen corporate types.
Jackson grinned at her and squeezed her hand. As they watched, more cars arrived…a Jaguar with an older couple, a BMW station wagon with two couples, a Cadillac with three women. The first group entered the bar, happily forking over the cover, asking about the revue, which was why they’d come. All new customers and mostly couples.
“We did it,” she breathed to him.
He winked. “We sure did.”
“As long as they like the show.”
“What’s not to like?”
“True.” Through the hands they gripped tight, they exchanged excitement and pride, standing a little longer to savor the moment. She could still taste his kiss on her lips.
“I’d better go to work,” she said finally, letting go. She looked up at him and his expression stopped her heart. I never want you to leave.
What if she never went?
After that, Heidi was so busy she didn’t have time to even think about Jackson, let alone catch his eye to see if he still had that look on his face. She told herself she’d read too much into the kiss, the look. The halo effect of working together, the triumph and shared pride, had masked the impossibility of their relationship. Right?
The revue went remarkably well for a first night. The sound system went out briefly, Jasmine missed a cue on the bubble dance, and the band skipped an interlude on the seven-veils song, but no one minded. The feathers had been so ineptly applied to the headdresses they melted free under the hot lights, but the girls tossed them into the audience and soon everyone sported a white feather over an ear, tucked into a lock of hair or poked into a buttonhole, adding to the festive atmosphere.
The bar was insane with liquor sales and the applause at the end of the show was wild.
After closing, Duke called the employees together for a congratulatory glass of cheap champagne, crowing about the show as if it had been his idea all along. Everyone stayed a little longer than usual, the dancers kicking around ideas for new numbers, the band fired up about the fact that an entertainment reviewer had inquired about where else they played. Heidi ached with exhaustion, but it was a happy weariness from good work for a good cause.
Finally, everyone was gone and Jackson was walking the band out. When he returned, they would lock up and head home like any other night. Except…what about that look? The new feeling she’d had standing with him?
She wanted to go home and make love, but she didn’t dare. It would just be a waste of time.
Move out. The words popped in her head. Esmeralda wanted a roommate. It would slow down Heidi’s savings, but it would eliminate the nightly temptation of being in Jackson’s house. Maybe now was the time to go. She’d keep doing housekeeping for him and she’d see him at work.
That would be smart. She’d talk to Esmeralda on Monday, then tell Jackson. The idea made her feel so sad, but it was for the best.
All alone in the bar for the moment, she walked onto the empty main stage and looked out at the audience. What would it be like to perform for strangers? It was intimidating just standing there with clothes on. Imagine doing it nearly naked. She walked around the three-foot mirrored cube that rested in the center of the stage. She turned toward the back wall—which was a floor-to-ceiling mirror—and was surprised how dramatic she looked under the overhead spot. The push-up bra the girls had foisted on her gave her decent cleavage in the low-necked leotard. Her wraparound skirt parted to reveal most of her right thigh. In the white light, her hair shone bronze. She straightened her spine, threw her shoulders back so her breasts stuck out. Pretty damn sexy, if she did say so herself.
Then she noticed Jackson behind her in the mirror and watched him move from the darkness of the audience area into the lights of the stage, his gaze on her.
She spun, embarrassed that she’d been admiring herself.
“Don’t stop. You look great,” he said softly, reassuring her. “Reminds me of that striptease.”
“Right. On pain meds? Pretty ridiculous.”
“Not at all. It was charming and sexy and very you.” He stepped closer so the light struck his face and turn
ed his black Moons T-shirt and jeans a soft gray. He looked so good to her. Dangerous and wild, but also safe. Emotion shone in his eyes. “You had me so hot I could hardly see.”
“You threw me over your shoulder like a child.”
“So I wouldn’t take advantage of you.”
“I wasn’t that loaded.”
He reached for the switchbox against the wall. She thought he was going to shut off the light, but instead he pushed a button that started the disco ball spinning, sending white circles of light everywhere, turning the stage into a magical snow globe. “Why don’t you dance for me?”
“Dance? I can’t…I’m not—”
“Sure you are. You’re very good.”
“You make me feel that way.”
“You don’t need me for that. But I’ve been glad to be along for the ride.”
The ride. It had been wild and wonderful. Like roaring through the city in his exotic sports car. Maybe Jackson was saying goodbye, too.
“Dance for me. The stage is all yours. And this time you won’t get dizzy.”
“If you’ll pick out my music.”
“Hear the music in your head.” He stepped onto the stage, keeping his eyes on her the entire time, making her feel like the sexiest woman alive.
When the mirrored cube was the only thing between them, he sat on it, legs apart, palms on his knees, braced to watch. “Just dance, Heidi.”
She began to sway, slowly at first, intimidated by the dark seats beyond the stage. They were empty, but she could picture men staring, expecting erotic moves, splits, spins, pole work.
“Look at me, Heidi. I’m the only one here. Dance for me.”
So she did. Staring into his fathomless eyes, her only mirror, she performed an instinctive undulation, a wave of motion from the top of her head to a little kick of her toes in her kitten heels.
“Nice,” Jackson breathed, warm light reflecting in his eyes like candle flames in each pupil. She was turning him on.
More confident now, she went on tiptoe and spun—these shoes didn’t slip off her heels as Gigi’s oversize ones had. She went to the pole, leaned her head back and did a slow turn. Jackson smiled.
