Red Hot. Lisa Childs
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Wyatt Andrews again. Had to convince him to help her change Matthew’s mind. And if talking to Wyatt didn’t work, maybe she would actually consider Tammy’s suggestion.
* * *
“WHO’S ALL TENSE and edgy now?” Braden teased Wyatt.
He shrugged, trying to ease the tension that kissing Fiona had wound tightly inside him. “It must be all your talk about a fire...”
Or a fiery redhead.
The grin slid off Braden’s face. “It’s out there...”
Wyatt didn’t doubt him. He could almost feel it himself now. “You have to get out there,” he said. “That’s why I brought you here.”
But he paused outside the door to the new club, reluctant to step inside. Cody was right; the place was packed. That was why he’d brought Braden here—because of all the women. Usually he would have been interested himself. But he doubted anyone inside the club could make his pulse race as Fiona had. If only she’d gone home with him.
But it was a good thing that she hadn’t. He didn’t need to get involved with a woman like her. He didn’t need bossy and controlling. He just needed a good time. Maybe he’d find one inside.
“We might as well check it out,” he told his boss.
The bouncer holding open the door gave him and Braden a quick once-over. “I thought all the dancers were already inside.”
“Dancers?” Braden repeated with confusion.
Wyatt hadn’t shared everything Cody had told him about the club opening. If his boss had known about the male strippers, he never would have agreed to check out the place.
Braden hadn’t gone many steps inside before he turned around and slammed into Wyatt. “This was a bad idea. I’m leaving.” But before he could get anywhere near the door, two women grabbed his arms and pulled him onto the dance floor.
Wyatt laughed at the look of horror on his friend’s face. Maybe he should have advised Braden to change out of the Huron Hotshots Firefighter T-shirt he was wearing with khakis. But the women would soon realize their mistake when they discovered that Braden couldn’t dance.
His boss was going to kill him. But at least Wyatt was getting a good laugh before he died.
If Wyatt bought him a drink, Braden might loosen up, and maybe after a few drinks he would forget that coming here had been Wyatt’s idea. He turned toward the bar. Despite the crowd around it, his gaze went immediately to the bright flame of her red hair.
It wasn’t Fiona. Not here...
But he couldn’t mistake that particular shade of red. Or the alabaster of her silky skin. She’d said she was going home, but she was here.
All her hair was loose and flowing around her shoulders now. And one of the dancers had strayed from the floor. Shirtless but for suspenders and yellow pants, the faux firefighter leaned close to her, trapping her between his naked chest and the bar.
Anger coursed through Wyatt along with a fresh flash of jealousy, a feeling he’d been unfamiliar with until tonight—until his friends had checked out Fiona. This man was no friend and definitely no firefighter.
Wyatt hurried over to her. His grip probably a little too hard, he grabbed the man’s shoulder and peeled him off her. The guy whirled toward him with a glare.
“What’s your problem?” the dancer asked.
Fiona was his problem.
But instead of admitting that, Wyatt asked his own question. “Aren’t you supposed to be out on the dance floor?”
“Break,” the guy replied. But he glanced nervously around before returning his attention to Fiona. “I have time for a drink.”
She shook her head. “I already said no.”
Ignoring Wyatt, the guy moved in on her again—thrusting his waxed chest in her face. “But—”
This time Wyatt grabbed him even harder and jerked him away from Fiona. Raising his voice to be heard above the din of conversation and the blare of the music, he shouted, “The lady said no.”
The dancer snorted. “Lady? There isn’t a lady in this place.”
Instinct and anger had Wyatt pulling back his fist to swing. But before he could, silky hands locked around his forearm. “Don’t...”
The dancer grinned. “You don’t want him to hurt my handsome face.”
She snorted now and said, “I don’t want him to hurt his hand.”
“I wouldn’t hurt my hand,” Wyatt assured her. Maybe Braden was right about him being the frustrated one now, because he really wanted to hit the jerk.
“I would tear you apart,” the man threatened, but he glanced around nervously—as if looking for backup.
Wyatt never had to look; he always knew his team had his back. But he didn’t need them now. He laughed at the other man’s claim, and Fiona’s grasp on his arm tightened. His skin heated and tingled beneath her silky touch, distracting him so much that he nearly missed the dancer winding up to swing. But he easily dodged the blow.
And the guy stumbled forward and almost fell. He’d obviously already had a drink, or several, himself. He hadn’t needed another.
Maybe he needed a slap upside the head to sober him up. But recognizing it wouldn’t be a fair fight, Wyatt stepped back, and unfortunately Fiona’s hands fell away from his arm.
All icy dominatrix, Fiona pointed the dancer back to the floor. “Break’s over...”
The guy shivered at her tone and turned away.
“Maybe I didn’t need to come to your rescue,” Wyatt mused.
She lifted her chin and glared at him. “I didn’t need rescuing.”
“Yet I keep finding you fighting off advances in bars,” he said. He gestured around at the bustling club. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I’m not,” she said, and turned to push her way through the crowd.
Wyatt followed, his gaze dropping to her ass wriggling inside that tight skirt as she hurried to the exit. “Sure looks like you...” He would know that ass anywhere.
She brushed past the bouncer as she stepped through the door. The man whistled in appreciation and nudged Wyatt’s shoulder. She glanced back to glare at them both before stalking across the parking lot. Wyatt lengthened his stride to keep pace with her. “You don’t have to follow me.”
“I have to make sure you make it safely to your car,” he said. “Don’t know who else might try to buy you a drink on your way there...”
She shook her head, and her hair flowed around her shoulders. “He didn’t want to buy me a drink,” she said, and her pale skin flushed with embarrassment. “He wanted me to buy him one.”
“He didn’t need any more.”
She nodded. “That’s what I thought.”
“Thought you weren’t here,” he reminded her. “But now I understand why you wouldn’t come home with me—even though you claimed that you have to get up early in the morning.”
“I do.” She stopped beside a silver sedan and squeezed her keyless remote. The locks clicked and the lights flashed. He recognized the make and model for having the highest safety rating. He’d thought she hadn’t come home with him because she wasn’t attracted, but maybe she was playing it safe.
Though he’d found her at this club—where she’d known there would be male dancers... Another stupid twinge of jealousy struck him.
“But you couldn’t resist stopping here to check out the male strippers,”