her those dimples again, "I have a great neighbor."
B y Monday afternoon, if the devil had opened up a big hole in the floor of Girls' Night Out and offered eternal damnation to escape his current, humiliating predicament, Mark would have been sorely tempted to agree.
"A what?" he asked Zack Martin, the lead dancer/stage manager.
"A Viking."
Zack handed him a studded metal helmet with protruding horns. Mark frowned. What was the intimation here, that he was horny? Wearing phallic symbols on his head in public definitely went above and beyond the call of duty.
Next, Zack handed him a black tunic-like garment with an open V to his navel, a pair of thin black pants he'd bet were so tight the club's patrons would be able to guess his religion, and black thigh-high boots. A black cape completed the look.
"Seriously?" he asked Zack. "This looks more like a vampire with bad taste in hats."
"I'm the vampire around here. This is Viking."
"Technically, it's not," a woman called from the shadows.
Mark peered past the glaring lights overhead to see a curvaceous redhead walking his way. She was short with a pretty round face and chocolate eyes, which sparkled with mischief. As she stepped closer, out of the harsh glare of the lights, her image materialized.
She held out her hand. "Lucia DiStefano. We met briefly the day of your audition."
Yes, they had. She'd let him in the door with a smile. He'd been too damned nervous to smile back.
Zack dimmed the harsh lights overhead, and finally Mark got a good glimpse of the woman.
"Hi. Mark Gabriel." He shook her hand.
"I'm Nicki's sister," she added.
From the raising of her brows, Mark knew his surprise rippled across his face.
Lucia and her sister looked nothing alike. Nicki was all sleek and dark with uptilted blue eyes, narrow shoulders, spitfire, and challenge, along with a sculpted mouth he was dying to taste. Lucia was more lush curves, warm auburn hair, insightful eyes the color of decadent milk chocolate, and an inviting pink mouth. No doubt she was making some man who loved breasts seriously happy, since she had plenty and then some. But sisters? Lucia was ... Alyson Hannigan to Nicki's Angelina Jolie--totally different animals.
"Half-sisters," Lucia clarified. "Her mother was an exotic Euro-Asian model. Mine was an Italian housewife." A self-deprecating smile played at the comers of her lips. "And your costume is more Teutonic. A Viking tunic would have a rounded neck, a gathered sleeve, and end somewhere around the knee. And black pants that thin definitely weren't in their wardrobe."
"Only a history professor would know." Zack rolled his eyes. "We're creating a fantasy here." He dismissed her and turned to Mark. "This is how Nicki sees you onstage. I agree."
At six feet tall with cropped black hair and equally dark eyes, Zack wasn't anyone's idea of a Viking. So he would never know the humiliation of the homed helmet. For Mark, it was more than that. The thought of tearing off tight black everything in front of strangers while he was supposed to look like a Viking conqueror with lust on his mind was making him queasy.
Gritting his teeth, he asked, "What do you want me to do now?"
"In your spare time, practice with the costume. Mirrors help. Look for sexy ways to take it off."
He'd already done plenty of stripping in front of a mirror to prepare for this gig, thanks for asking. No way he planned to do more.
"I meant right now," Mark clarified.
"Oh, set it aside. We need to get you started on learning the routines."
Right, the routines ...
This assignment had seemed simple in theory. Anything to nail the bastard who had helped destroy his life. Anything to assist the money-laundering scum who'd all but escorted his ex-wife to prison find his own way behind bars. It was still important. Vital. He just hadn't expected it to be so damn embarrassing.
Stripping for Nicki had been fun--a rush, even. Watching her gaze latch on to him, interest brewing in her eyes.
B y Monday afternoon, if the devil had opened up a big hole in the floor of Girls' Night Out and offered eternal damnation to escape his current, humiliating predicament, Mark would have been sorely tempted to agree.
"A what?" he asked Zack Martin, the lead dancer/stage manager.
"A Viking."
Zack handed him a studded metal helmet with protruding horns. Mark frowned. What was the intimation here, that he was horny? Wearing phallic symbols on his head in public definitely went above and beyond the call of duty.
Next, Zack handed him a black tunic-like garment with an open V to his navel, a pair of thin black pants he'd bet were so tight the club's patrons would be able to guess his religion, and black thigh-high boots. A black cape completed the look.
"Seriously?" he asked Zack. "This looks more like a vampire with bad taste in hats."
"I'm the vampire around here. This is Viking."
"Technically, it's not," a woman called from the shadows.
Mark peered past the glaring lights overhead to see a curvaceous redhead walking his way. She was short with a pretty round face and chocolate eyes, which sparkled with mischief. As she stepped closer, out of the harsh glare of the lights, her image materialized.
She held out her hand. "Lucia DiStefano. We met briefly the day of your audition."
Yes, they had. She'd let him in the door with a smile. He'd been too damned nervous to smile back.
Zack dimmed the harsh lights overhead, and finally Mark got a good glimpse of the woman.
"Hi. Mark Gabriel." He shook her hand.
"I'm Nicki's sister," she added.
From the raising of her brows, Mark knew his surprise rippled across his face.
Lucia and her sister looked nothing alike. Nicki was all sleek and dark with uptilted blue eyes, narrow shoulders, spitfire, and challenge, along with a sculpted mouth he was dying to taste. Lucia was more lush curves, warm auburn hair, insightful eyes the color of decadent milk chocolate, and an inviting pink mouth. No doubt she was making some man who loved breasts seriously happy, since she had plenty and then some. But sisters? Lucia was ... Alyson Hannigan to Nicki's Angelina Jolie--totally different animals.
"Half-sisters," Lucia clarified. "Her mother was an exotic Euro-Asian model. Mine was an Italian housewife." A self-deprecating smile played at the comers of her lips. "And your costume is more Teutonic. A Viking tunic would have a rounded neck, a gathered sleeve, and end somewhere around the knee. And black pants that thin definitely weren't in their wardrobe."
"Only a history professor would know." Zack rolled his eyes. "We're creating a fantasy here." He dismissed her and turned to Mark. "This is how Nicki sees you onstage. I agree."
At six feet tall with cropped black hair and equally dark eyes, Zack wasn't anyone's idea of a Viking. So he would never know the humiliation of the homed helmet. For Mark, it was more than that. The thought of tearing off tight black everything in front of strangers while he was supposed to look like a Viking conqueror with lust on his mind was making him queasy.
Gritting his teeth, he asked, "What do you want me to do now?"
"In your spare time, practice with the costume. Mirrors help. Look for sexy ways to take it off."
He'd already done plenty of stripping in front of a mirror to prepare for this gig, thanks for asking. No way he planned to do more.
"I meant right now," Mark clarified.
"Oh, set it aside. We need to get you started on learning the routines."
Right, the routines ...
This assignment had seemed simple in theory. Anything to nail the bastard who had helped destroy his life. Anything to assist the money-laundering scum who'd all but escorted his ex-wife to prison find his own way behind bars. It was still important. Vital. He just hadn't expected it to be so damn embarrassing.
Stripping for Nicki had been fun--a rush, even. Watching her gaze latch on to him, interest brewing in her eyes.
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