Carla blanched. “As if.”
The men leaned in closer to be heard. “Ah, come on,” one of them said, a slight Italian accent coating his words. His dark gaze bounced around from girl to girl, looking hopeful. “We just want to dance.”
“It’s just that we’re waiting for someone,” Danni explained with a gentle smile.
“Yeah, we don’t want to get in trouble.” Mandy turned her back on them and faced Brielle, mouthing, “What should we do?”
“Get lost.” Carla jumped in, looking down her nose at them. “We don’t want any.”
Mandy frowned and Danni winced, and hope slowly died in the men’s friendly faces. Brielle’s jaw clenched. The brunette had gone too far. So what if the men were bigger than normal and their polyester suits and psychedelic shirts did nothing for their charm? They were human. And under the slicked-back hair and thick glasses were two endearing men, her intuition insisted.
To hell with the show!
She didn’t care if the cameras were on them or that they were supposed to wait for Matthew and Jack. She knew it had taken a lot of courage for the guys to approach their group and wasn’t about to disappoint.
“Don’t listen to her. She misses her snake.” Brielle gazed into their brown eyes and smiled. “I’d be happy to dance with you.” Shoving a stone-faced Carla out of the way, she picked up the music’s beat and began to sway, keeping it simple.
“Me, too.” Danni joined her and the two, now grinning men.
“Me, three.” Mandy squeezed in with a giggle. “I don’t think Matthew would mind. It’s just a friendly dance.”
Carla scowled, then turned to the Calvin Klein clad man next to her and smiled. “You’re more like it.”
Several people looked on, grimacing at their partners’ clumsy dance moves. Brielle ignored them and her sore muscles, and concentrated on having fun. It was nice to forget about the show and her lies for a few minutes.
One of the men stepped on her toes. “Sorry,” he muttered, a weak smile tugging his mouth.
“It’s okay.” She grinned and leaned closer. “I only use the bottoms.”
Amusement warmed his brown eyes as he tried to pick up the beat.
She shivered. “Have we met?”
He shook his head and smiled. “No. I think you would’ve remembered someone as big as me.”
Unsure what to say, she smiled back and continued to dance. Despite the nagging thought that she knew him, this was the most fun she’d had in weeks.
Two songs later, Bill appeared and pulled them from the floor. She hid a sigh. Playtime was over. Time to head back to reality. Literally.
“Matthew and Jack are here. It’s time to go into the private room.” He ushered them through the crowd, barely giving them a chance to say good-bye to the men.
But she had bigger worries, now.
“Hello, ladies,” Greg greeted as they joined him and two of Jack’s men in a posh, red room housing a couple of round booths, small dance floor—and a pole.
Brielle stopped dead.
“Hey!” Carla bumped into her. “What’s your problem?”
“Nothing.” She swallowed and proceeded into the room. Her pulse pounded out a heavy beat of its own. A beat of doom.
“If you would please sit, ladies, I will explain why I’m here.” The host motioned to a booth and waited until they were all seated. “As you know, you were supposed to meet Matthew and Jack for a night of dancing.”
“Where are they? What’s going on?” Carla asked, her red-tipped nail tapping the table.
“Yeah, are they okay?” Mandy frowned, concern filling her blue eyes. “I would’ve thought they’d be here by now.”
Brielle glanced from the blonde to the host, and did her best to ignore the pole behind him. The pole wasn’t important, but Matthew was, and why he wasn’t there.
“The men are fine. In fact,” Greg paused to smile. “They have actually been here all along.”
She swallowed a sigh. Stupid show and its surprises. Now what? Had the brother’s been in a private room watching them out on the floor?
“What?” Carla sat up straight, her brows colliding.
Danni glanced around the room. “Were they hiding?”
“Oh no.” Mandy grimaced. “Did they see us dancing with those two men? It was all innocent. They were really nice. I think they were from France.”
“Italy,” Danni corrected, her gaze never leaving their host’s.
The handsome man nodded. “As a matter of fact, they did see you, Mandy.” His perfect smile broadened. “They saw all of you.”
The blonde bit her lower lip. “Are they mad?”
“I’ll let you ask them. Here they are now.” He pointed toward the door.
Gasps filled the air as the two heavy-set men entered the room.
“I’ll be…” Brielle smiled. No wonder the one seemed so damned familiar. Because at one time they had been so damn familiar with one another. She held back a snicker. This was good.
“What are you two doing in here?” Carla asked, distaste wrinkling her nose, obviously clueless. “Get out.”
“Sorry, but we can’t do that, Carla,” said the man in blue polyester.
The other spoke up. “Yeah, we’re supposed to be here. We’re your escorts.”
“What?” The brunette’s frown turned into wide-eyed surprise as the men took off their glasses and wigs and dropped them onto a table, followed by their chin and eyebrow prosthetics.
“Top-notch disguise, guys.” Brielle gave them a thumbs-up. If it hadn’t been for her awareness to Jack, she never would’ve had a clue. Incredible. Between their costumes, prosthetics and accents, she had been duped. Well done. She made a mental note to talk to the head of make-up and find out who had done the work.
“Yeah, well, your reactions were important to me,” Matthew said as his brother helped him peeled out of his bulky suit like a peanut in a shell. “I found them…interesting.” His glance zeroed in on the black-haired beauty while he helped Jack shed his camouflage.
Carla sat back and slid down, face slightly pale. Brielle almost felt sorry for the woman. Almost.
“Well, now that you know who you were dancing with,” Greg said, regaining their attention. “It’s time to continue with this group date. Remember ladies, elimination is tomorrow night.”
The girls murmured their acknowledgement. Brielle should’ve been watching their reactions, but Jack’s sexy attire captured her attention. Dressed in a cobalt blue, buttoned-down shirt and black pants, his hinted-at-form made her mouth water. After their wrestling the other night, and…up-close-and-personal last year, her body remembered what it’d felt like to straddle his hard length.
“Matthew, Jack, if you’ll join me.” Greg motioned to his side and waited as Jack removed his brown contacts. “The proprietor of this establishment is having a dance contest tonight, and you’ve both been entered.”
“What?”
They spoke in unison. Brielle held back a snort. She was going to get to sit back and watch the guys dance? Oh hell yeah.
“The producers thought it would be fun, so now all you need is your partners.” Greg turned his attention to the girls.
Brielle shifted in her seat. Oh hell no. Don’t even think it.
“In this box I’m putting colored disks that match the ladies’ dresses.” Greg held up purple, red, green, and blue circles.
She glanced down at her red halter dress. “Now I know why we’re color coded.”
“Yeah.” Mandy giggled, glancing at her blue dress. “I thought they wanted us to look like ice pops.”
“Well, I feel like a purple crayon.” Danni smiled. “But Carla just looks a little green.”
Brielle glanced at the scowling woman who swallowed her comments when Greg continued.
“Matthew, you will pick first.” Greg held the box high and the groom pulled out a blue circle. “Blue. Looks like Mandy will be your partner.”
“Oh, I won a
gain. Yay!” She clapped, then practically knocked Carla out of the booth to hurry to the smiling Matthew.
“Jack, it’s your turn. Pick a circle.”
Greg held the box, and Brielle held her breath as Jack stuck his hand inside.
Chapter Ten
Please…please… Brielle silently prayed, unsure whether begging not to be picked...or to be picked. Her pulse hammered, drying her throat as she waited for Jack’s hand to come out of the box.
“And Jack has picked…red. Brielle, looks like you’ll be partners with Jack.” Greg smiled, holding up the red disk. “Come on up, and I’ll explain the rules.”
No, her mind protested while her body screamed yes, I win!
She slipped from the booth, noting Carla’s scowl and Danni’s slumped shoulders.
“Okay, this is supposed to be an impromptu dance, but you’re allowed a few minutes to get used to your song. You will have twenty minutes to practice before you take the floor out there.” Greg motioned toward the door.
“What song?” Matthew asked.
“Yours and Mandy’s song is on the player in here, and Jack’s and Brielle’s is in the next room,” the host replied, before turning his attention to the remaining contestants. “If you other ladies would please follow me, I’ll escort you out to a special booth in the club.”
Carla and Danni rose to their feet, shoulders still slightly slumped as they accompanied the host out of the room, leaving the four of them alone.
As soon as the door closed, Jack rounded on his brother. “This is bullshit! Did you know about this?”
“No, but I think it sounds like fun.” Matthew grabbed his partner’s hand and led her to the music system in the corner. “I suggest you use your time wisely, bro, because Mandy and I intend to win.”
Mandy giggled. “I wonder what song we got.” The blonde pushed the button and a well-known Pitbull tune filled the room.
A slew of curses shot from Jack’s lips, but the music drowned most of them out. He seized Brielle’s hand, tugged her out of the room and into the next, slamming the door shut behind them and a scrambling cameraman. “I can’t believe this!”
Neither could she. Heck, she could barely catch her breath. The warm, comfortable feeling of their entwined fingers and the rapid pace with which they moved was enough to push all other thoughts away. Jack was holding her hand. Why did that feel so right?
Unfortunately, he released her to rake those long, strong fingers through his hair, causing the short strands to stand up in spikes, making him look even sexier. Damn him.
“How the hell am I supposed to keep an eye on my brother if we’re separated?”
Matthew. Right. This wasn’t good. She really needed to get her head in the game. And off Jack.
He was right, though. She understood his frustration. How could either of them keep Matthew safe if they were both in here? The producers knew better. But none of that was anything she could share. And Jack was looking at her as if he expected her to reply. What could she say? Nothing. So she shrugged, instead.
“I guess it’s another one of those things I’m supposed to go with. At least Rodriguez is with him.” Jack scowled, pacing the dance floor, the cameraman scurrying to the far corner, no doubt to keep out of the disgruntled Ranger’s way. “My stupid brother has lost his mind.”
She didn’t know how to respond to that, either. The investigator in her wanted to agree with him and sneak back to watch Matthew, but she knew it would raise eyebrows. Especially Jack’s. Too bad Matthew hadn’t picked her color.
“He’s just trying to have fun.” She felt awkward as hell. The last time she’d spoken to Jack, she had been half naked straddling his groin, and now they were alone, in a private dance room—with a pole.
“Great. You’re as bad as them.” He stopped pacing to brush past her and throw himself into a booth. “Sorry, don’t mind me. Thanks to this damn show, I don’t even know who the hell I am anymore.”
Hysterical laughter bubbled up Brielle’s throat. Boy, could she relate. Luckily, she swallowed it down before she made a complete fool of herself. Again. The dejected slope of his shoulders and lost look on his face sobered her fast. More than just Matthew’s dilemma ate at the man. Her insides twisted, and without her mind’s consent, she stepped closer to the table.
“What’s bothering you, Jack?”
He lifted his head, and their gazes held for a long beat, long enough for a crazy fluttering to start low in her belly. Uncertainty, longing and anger flashed through his eyes before a cool façade slipped over his face.
“Nothing. Forget it,” he said, waving her away. “Why don’t you turn on the music and see what we’re supposed to dance to?”
She hesitated. Something was bothering him. Was there another threat? No. She’d talked to Uncle Franco this morning to inform him the extra cameras were in place in the security room. He would’ve told her if there was a new threat. So, what could it be? She eyed Jack for a moment, but when he stared back, gaze completely devoid of emotion, she shrugged and walked over to the player and flipped the switch.
An Enrique Iglesias song from one of her routines at The Limelight filled the room. “Great,” she said under her breath. “I’m toast.”
Pulse racing out of control, she slowly lifted her gaze to Jack. Her heart rocked in her chest. He sat there unmoving, regarding her with a steady intensity she knew to her soul. Just like Dodger.
She glanced away. I am in so much trouble.
“Okay, dance instructor, let’s see what you’ve got.” He leaned back, arms folded across his yummy chest, blue eyes glinting, daring her to dance. “What’s wrong? Afraid I might discover your secret?”
“W-what secret?” Damn her wobbly voice.
“That you’re not really a dancer,” he replied, then a wicked gleam entered his eyes. “Or…maybe you’re a special kind of dancer.”
The potent man’s lazy appraisal heated her blood, beyond boil. Special kind of dancer. Yeah, she was special all right. And he had a special way with words. Hell, they had her ping-ponging between hot and cold with a bought of shivers standing at the ready.
“I know you’re hiding something, Brielle.” He leaned forward and tapped the table with his finger while he continued to hold her gaze. “I can taste it.”
Taste it? He’d tasted her. That’s what she was hiding. And what was with these vibes he was giving off lately? The man wasn’t stupid. He was definitely starting to put two and two together. She chewed on her bottom lip, watching his gaze heat up to that slow burn she remembered all too well.
What should she do? Proving she could dance was easy, but he would definitely recognize her. On the other hand, if she didn’t dance, then he might suspect her of making the threats and miss out on nailing the real offender.
“Well? What’s wrong?” he asked softly, slight curve to his lips. “Afraid I might find out?”
Her chin lifted. “No.”
“Then dance for me, Brielle.” His sexy invitation sent gooseflesh over her skin and determination up her spine.
Fine. She smiled down at him. He wanted to see her dance? She’d dance. Better for him to realize she was Ariel than to consider her a suspect. Right? Heart hammering in her throat, she held his gaze and began one of her old routines.
Do or die time.
Arms above her head, she slowly swayed, her body expressing the song’s sensual feel.
Jack stiffened and immediately sat up straight, smile gone as his mouth gaped open.
And that would be his moment of absolute clarity. She turned her back and shimmied to the floor, then grabbed the pole and gradually stood.
“It is you,” he whispered.
Warm breath washed over her shoulders, teasing her skin in an unexpected caress. Ah hell. When had he stepped behind her?
“I knew I recognized those legs. No way could there be two pair that…” his husky voice trailed off, rooting her to the spot.
Don’t lean back. Don’t lea
n back. She closed her eyes and swallowed, while her heart sambaed right off the floor along with her sanity.
“Brielle.”
Damn. She recognized that tone. He was waiting for her to turn around and look at him. But, God, she was suddenly and unreasonably afraid. She didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want to see judgment in his eyes. Or face a slew of questions. Questions she couldn’t answer way back then, and still couldn’t answer now. Cripes. Why did their friendship have to be so damn complicated?
“Brielle, look at me,” he said in a quiet voice that surely tended to get people to do as he asked.
She was no exception.
Drawing in a breath, she caved and slowly turned around to find his eyes dark with longing, yet bright with certainty as his gaze ran down then up her body.
“You are Ariel.”
Brielle swallowed. Things had just changed. Irreversibly.
“Yes,” she replied, needing to free some of the deceit from her soul. “Or at least, I was Ariel. I-I used the French student as a cover while I…” She paused, wanting to keep her explanation as truthful as possible. It was tough without revealing things. She sighed instead. “It’s not important. I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you, Jack. But…”
And for once, that was the whole-hearted truth. She hoped he believed her. There was so damn more she wanted to say, but couldn’t. Her mind reeled at the futility of her situation, but in the end, she knew the less she said the better. Tears pricked the back of her eyes. Dammit. What was wrong with her? She hardly ever cried.
“Hey, it’s all right” He bent his knees a little to see her face better. “Your secret’s safe with me. I understand the lengths someone would go to for their career. When I was at The Limelight, I was undercover helping the police nab a couple of home invaders that targeted two of my clients.”
No freakin’ way…
Her pulse jumped at that revelation. Holy smokes. They’d both been working the same case from different angles. An unrecognizable, strange feeling rolled through Brielle as she realized they were in exactly the same situation right now. And dammit, she still couldn’t say a damn thing.
She Does Know Jack Page 15
