The Night Before Christmas: Naughty Christmas Nights / The Nightshift Before Christmas / 'Twas the Week Before Christmas. Tawny Weber
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to make a girl scream.
And not in a good way.
“Here we are,” Gage said, his words just background noise to her whirlwind of thoughts. Throughout the car ride, she’d heard him chatting with Rudy and the redhead, who were in the backseat. But she hadn’t taken in a word. The most she’d been able to do was state that her pitch would take place at another time. Just as well, since she wasn’t sure she’d even get her name right at this point, let alone be able to present her argument for romantic lingerie.
Still lost in thought, she absently took Gage’s hand as he helped her from the passenger seat of his car. He’d insisted on driving her to part two of their evening. She’d tried to disagree, desperately wanting her own car—and some time to herself. But once Rudy and Candy had decided to ride along, she’d figured it was better to just go with the flow.
Now, staring up at the building in front of them while the valet took Gage’s BMW, she desperately wished she’d stood up for her choice and had a car to escape with.
Pussy’s Galore, the neon sign screamed in bright orange.
“Are you sure this is how you wanted to pitch your argument for Milano designs?” she asked as they approached the rough-stone building. The red light flashing over the door spelled out clearly what kind of entertainment the Pussy Cats would be providing.
And it wasn’t anything Hailey wanted to see.
“I’m sure.” Gage stopped, one hand on the brass door pull, and gave her an amused look. “You’re not backing out, are you? Afraid of a little adventure?”
She figured her desire to hiss and scratch could be blamed on the club he was about to drag her into. But her reaction—a nervous knot in her stomach and a feeling of nausea clogged in her throat—was definitely fear.
She slid a sideways glance at Rudy, who was pretending to read the encased poster showcasing the evening’s entertainment. From the smile playing over his thin lips, he thought she was afraid, too.
His date, Hailey noted, was busy checking her manicure and clearly didn’t care.
Logically, Hailey knew she could object to visiting a club called Pussy’s Galore. There was nothing wrong with that. It wasn’t as if she was a prude or uptight in any way. Hell, she’d just had an orgasm with her chicken piccata.
She really didn’t want to go into a place that screamed sex. If a romantic setting with Gage inspired an under-the-table orgasm, who knew what inhibitions she’d toss aside in a sex club.
But she didn’t want to be the one who ruined the evening, either. Nor did she want to be the one going home alone by taxi while the others had fun, with Gage charming Rudy into the contract over naked bodies.
“You’re paying my entry fee, I hope,” she finally said, giving Gage a sassy look. “After all, I paid for dinner.”
“You made this sweet girl pay for the meal?” Rudy interrupted, pulled out of his fake perusal to frown at Gage. “That’s not right.”
“Romance is genderless, Mr. Rudolph,” Hailey said with a shrug that conveyed she didn’t play to the double standard. “And it was my point for the bet, so it’s only fair that I paid. Of course, that means Gage should pay for anything we encounter in here, too.”
She sure hoped the going rate for hookers was a lot more than chicken.
Ten minutes later, her wrist stamped with a go-go boot and her butt perched on a magenta fur-covered chrome stool, Hailey gave Gage an arch look.
“You said it was a house of ill repute when we pulled up.” At least, that was what she thought he’d said. She’d been too busy reveling in the memory of what his fingers had done between her thighs to be sure.
“Prostitution is illegal in San Francisco,” he pointed out with a grin. “This is a Kitty Cat Club. More upscale and diverse than a standard strip club. There are strippers on three stages, but there’s also pole dancing, a dance floor upstairs and, in case you get any ideas, a few rooms to rent by the hour in back.”
She wanted to roll her eyes and blithely dismiss the innuendo. Except her thighs were still tingling from his fingers, her panties were damp from the orgasm and, thanks to the image he’d built in her head of licking her, she didn’t think her nipples were ever going to lose their rock-hard perkiness.
So instead of being hypocritical, she opted to change the subject.
“Where did Rudy and Candy go?” She’d stepped into the bathroom after they’d entered the club and hadn’t seen the odd couple since.
“I’m not sure. He said something about getting drinks, and that he’d catch up with us in a minute.” Gage glanced toward the back with a frown. “But he headed in the opposite direction from the bar.”
She followed his gaze toward the bank of doors along the back wall, all with lights over the top, a few lit bright red to show they were occupied.
“You don’t think...”
“You don’t not think...” he countered, his scowl deepening. Hailey didn’t figure this was the moment to point out that since Rudy was here, this did count as one of Gage’s scenarios. Then she frowned, too. What if Rudy’s little private party was the kind of thing that proved Gage right, that it really was only sex that mattered?
Nope, she told herself. Not going to think about that. Rudy was the pervy, have-sex-anywhere-and-everywhere-while-he-could-still-get-it-up kind of guy. This was probably just business as usual for him.
Still... Her frown deepened. It did count as one of Gage’s scenarios. And maybe a successful one, at that.
“So you come here often?” she asked, wanting to distract both of them from the image of that skinny, old, bald man and whatever he was doing in the room with the red light.
“Do I look like the kind of guy who spends a lot of time at a place called Pussy’s Galore?” he asked, looking a little insulted.
“Well, you don’t exactly seem like the kind of guy who had to do a lot of research to come up with what scenario you thought would best prove your point about sexy lingerie.” As if to echo Hailey’s words, a waitress wearing a tiny blue teddy, stockings and six-inch Lucite heels approached them with a pitcher and four glasses.
“Pussycat punch,” she said, setting the tray on the table between them, then poured them each a glass of the neon-pink liquid. “Your tasty treats will be out in just a second, Gage.”
“Thanks, Mona.”
Mona? Hailey pressed her lips together but couldn’t hold back her laugh. Eyes wide and trying to look innocent, she met Gage’s glare with a shrug.
“What? It’s not like the reserved sign meant that this is your very own special table or that the waitress, who knows you by name, asked about your family. I believe you when you say you don’t come here all the time. I really do.”
His scowl deepened.
“She just might ask that of everyone,” he muttered. He looked so abashed, if he’d been standing he’d have his toe scuffing the floor. Hailey told herself not to melt, but man, he was so cute.
“She’d ask about your family?” she clarified.
When he nodded, the giggles escaped like champagne bubbles. She couldn’t help it.
“Look, my brother is one of the investors in this club. He’s big on keeping on top of his investments and I’ve come in with him from time to time to check up on things.”
“Of course. That makes perfect sense.” Her thoughts putting an end to the laughter, Hailey put on a serious face and nodded. “I’m sure you only visit for the articles, view the women as hardworking employees and never, ever enjoy yourself.”
He shrugged.
“I did try to pole