did you get in here?"
Clearly, the short-term answer to his X-rated question was that she would mind. Sighing, he wrenched his thoughts away from her body and the things he'd like to do to it. Time to refocus on the job.
"I came to see the show, take in the vibe of the club, and saw your silhouette through the glass."
"This is a private area of the club, for employees only."
"I hope to be one of those soon." He smiled without apology. "None of your waitstaff would ask you to come down to see me, so I hoped you wouldn't mind me coming up. Do you have a few minutes? I'd like to talk to you."
Her eyes narrowed in her suspicious expression. "About what?"
"Look, I'm not trying to creep you out. I just ... wanted to ask you to give me a fair shake. I can do this job."
Nicki tilted her head, sleek dark hair caressing her bare shoulders. "You seemed very capable. I'm just not done evaluating all the auditions."
"I understand."
Mark studied Nicki. She moistened her lush lips with the tip of her tongue in seeming invitation, but crossed her arms over her chest. She tossed her hair, so he got a peek at the velvet curve of her neck, but she lowered her gaze. Even in the near darkness of the room, he saw her interest. But he couldn't miss her hesitation, too. What was she looking for, just an employee? A friend? A lover?
He really hoped to hell she wasn't looking for a big brother.
Mark studied her face, fastened his gaze deep in her blue eyes, trying to discern the fastest way to her trust. She looked a bit tired and lonely, and more than a bit wary. While he didn't know her well, he'd start with the premise that she wanted someone in her life and see where it took him.
He sighed and paced closer ... until she tensed. Then he stopped. He had to tread carefully here. Smooth, but not too smooth.
"It must be hard to keep this place running mostly on your own." He thrust his hands into the pocket of his jeans and ducked his head. "I can't imagine how many hours you work, so I didn't expect that you'd have your mind made up yet."
"I keep busy, yes. Mostly because I do a lot of things around the club myself so it stays true to my vision."
"You must have done a lot of things right. It looks pretty crowded for a Tuesday night."
"Vegas never sleeps." She smiled tightly.
"Do you take care of the business side all day, then patrol the place at night?"
"Usually. Why?" Her wariness returned.
Mark intentionally relaxed his stance more. "Just admiring the fact you work hard. I'd be lying if I said I didn't wonder when you might make a decision, but I'm sure picking a replacement dancer is probably the least of your worries."
"No, it's very important. I try to pick only the best-looking men for the show."
She hesitated and stared as if pondering him. Mark let the silence stretch between them. Whatever was going on in that pretty head of hers was more likely to come out if he didn't fill the awkward pause. It would eventually wear on her, and she'd say something.
"And actually, you're one of the reasons my job is so hard this time," she offered.
"Me? If I don't have what you want for the show--"
"On the outside, you do. But it's not just looks. I try to pick interesting men, too. Conversation goes on here, you know. It's one thing to know how to flirt. But some women want to connect, relate. You can't spend a lot of time with any one woman, but part of the experience for her is in knowing that you really got her, even if just for a moment."
"You're not sure I can connect?"
"Oh, you had the charm part down. It was practiced and polished until it gleamed like my grandmother's silver tea service on Easter Sunday. But some women see through that." She paced closer, stepping to his side and glancing his way. "Some women find that insulting. Sure, they want you to undress them with your eyes, but they want you to talk to them, as well."
Mark returned her stare, getting her hesitation. "I insulted you."
Her eyes narrowed, and he could
Clearly, the short-term answer to his X-rated question was that she would mind. Sighing, he wrenched his thoughts away from her body and the things he'd like to do to it. Time to refocus on the job.
"I came to see the show, take in the vibe of the club, and saw your silhouette through the glass."
"This is a private area of the club, for employees only."
"I hope to be one of those soon." He smiled without apology. "None of your waitstaff would ask you to come down to see me, so I hoped you wouldn't mind me coming up. Do you have a few minutes? I'd like to talk to you."
Her eyes narrowed in her suspicious expression. "About what?"
"Look, I'm not trying to creep you out. I just ... wanted to ask you to give me a fair shake. I can do this job."
Nicki tilted her head, sleek dark hair caressing her bare shoulders. "You seemed very capable. I'm just not done evaluating all the auditions."
"I understand."
Mark studied Nicki. She moistened her lush lips with the tip of her tongue in seeming invitation, but crossed her arms over her chest. She tossed her hair, so he got a peek at the velvet curve of her neck, but she lowered her gaze. Even in the near darkness of the room, he saw her interest. But he couldn't miss her hesitation, too. What was she looking for, just an employee? A friend? A lover?
He really hoped to hell she wasn't looking for a big brother.
Mark studied her face, fastened his gaze deep in her blue eyes, trying to discern the fastest way to her trust. She looked a bit tired and lonely, and more than a bit wary. While he didn't know her well, he'd start with the premise that she wanted someone in her life and see where it took him.
He sighed and paced closer ... until she tensed. Then he stopped. He had to tread carefully here. Smooth, but not too smooth.
"It must be hard to keep this place running mostly on your own." He thrust his hands into the pocket of his jeans and ducked his head. "I can't imagine how many hours you work, so I didn't expect that you'd have your mind made up yet."
"I keep busy, yes. Mostly because I do a lot of things around the club myself so it stays true to my vision."
"You must have done a lot of things right. It looks pretty crowded for a Tuesday night."
"Vegas never sleeps." She smiled tightly.
"Do you take care of the business side all day, then patrol the place at night?"
"Usually. Why?" Her wariness returned.
Mark intentionally relaxed his stance more. "Just admiring the fact you work hard. I'd be lying if I said I didn't wonder when you might make a decision, but I'm sure picking a replacement dancer is probably the least of your worries."
"No, it's very important. I try to pick only the best-looking men for the show."
She hesitated and stared as if pondering him. Mark let the silence stretch between them. Whatever was going on in that pretty head of hers was more likely to come out if he didn't fill the awkward pause. It would eventually wear on her, and she'd say something.
"And actually, you're one of the reasons my job is so hard this time," she offered.
"Me? If I don't have what you want for the show--"
"On the outside, you do. But it's not just looks. I try to pick interesting men, too. Conversation goes on here, you know. It's one thing to know how to flirt. But some women want to connect, relate. You can't spend a lot of time with any one woman, but part of the experience for her is in knowing that you really got her, even if just for a moment."
"You're not sure I can connect?"
"Oh, you had the charm part down. It was practiced and polished until it gleamed like my grandmother's silver tea service on Easter Sunday. But some women see through that." She paced closer, stepping to his side and glancing his way. "Some women find that insulting. Sure, they want you to undress them with your eyes, but they want you to talk to them, as well."
Mark returned her stare, getting her hesitation. "I insulted you."
Her eyes narrowed, and he could
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