Her back shot ramrod straight at his taunt. Of course, he probably shouldn’t have gone so far, since it was his fondest hope that she’d plant one on him again and soon.

      Face flushed, she said, “You’re right. I have changed. Which is exactly why I’m now at the Mirage.” Then Phoebe cocked her head, her expression becoming baffled. “I don’t know why you’re carrying on like this. I am a professional dancer, you know.”

      Yes, but there were professionals, and then there were professionals. Trace conjured up an image of Phoebe wearing nothing but the tiny scraps of fabric the Mirage passed off as a costume while she kicked and pranced in front of a roomful of drunks from the casino. He clenched his fists, his voice almost a growl when he said, “Because you do not belong on that damn ship.”