Striptease

Even recognizing that female bonding potential, he wasn’t having an easy time figuring out the dynamics of the group. He was hoping today he’d pick up a few clues. Most of his video work didn’t require personal involvement with clients. But this assignment was different.

Documentary or not, if he made this show work, he could write his own career ticket. Any number of NYC-based production companies would wet their proverbial pants after seeing a show of this caliber on his résumé. The inheritance he’d received from his paternal grandmother had allowed him to outfit his own studio and perfect his craft on top-of-the-line equipment. And getting to know the women away from the office would go a long way to making sure the shoot turned out to be his best ever.

He pulled his Explorer Sport Trac in behind a line of two-seaters and sporty status cars parked at the curb. Adding that half dozen to the double row of vehicles running the length of the driveway, he figured this shindig wasn’t the quiet and cozy get-together Chloe had claimed.

Not that he was particularly surprised. He wouldn’t classify anything he’d learned about the seven female friends’ working relationship as cozy. Or as quiet. He had a feeling hair was pulled and mud-wrestling done on a regular basis. Or not. But hey, a guy could dream.

He hadn’t seen enough of their off-site playtime to know that game’s score. The only true playtime he’d witnessed, in fact, had been Melanie’s incendiary striptease. And even then he didn’t know if she’d been the one playing, or if she’d been playing him.

He groaned in defeat. How could a two-dimensional, gray shadow be sexier than a living color peekaboo peepshow? He’d lived in a state of unbearable arousal since watching the tape. What the hell had she been thinking? And why the hell had she turned off the recording like that, right in the middle of his left-handed fun?

Talk about strokus interruptus.

No matter all the reasons he gave himself for showing up at Chloe’s today, the bottom line was that he was here to see how far he could get Melanie to go. He’d spent the morning watching the tape again. And watching it one more time. Not because he’d needed a refresher; Melanie’s shadowed image had imprinted itself on his brain the first time he’d popped the tape into the VCR and hit Play.

He’d watched because he knew he’d be seeing her today. And because he couldn’t reconcile her shadowy seduction with the woman who worked in a black-and-white office and wore work clothes that were dull and ugly and drove him nuts for wanting to strip them away. Especially after that yellow thing she’d been wearing at the wedding.

That outfit had been all he’d seen when she walked through the sanctuary doors and into his camera’s LCD view screen. He’d followed her progress down the aisle and watched the way her body moved, bouncing beneath the nearly sheer top that was as loose and flowing as her short skirt was tight.

The contrast was definitely the sort of which his professional eye took notice. But it was her body underneath that grabbed his more primal attention. That, and the way the heels she’d been wearing did what heels were supposed to do to a woman’s ass and long legs.

For weeks he hadn’t been able to get that image out of his mind, and now that he’d seen her take her clothes off…forget it. The shadowed striptease had turned him on even more than watching her walk down the aisle.

He hadn’t realized how much until he’d been putting together the outtakes in an effort to point out how far over the professional line she’d stepped that day. She’d encroached on his artistic territory, tried to run his show.

He’d wanted her to see that she’d been just plain wrong, that her issues with control weren’t doing her any favors. And he’d always been a hell of a lot better at showing than he’d ever been at telling.

Well, apparently, not this time.

He supposed he deserved the bump-and-grind gauntlet she’d thrown in his face. Melanie had been pissed off enough at his effort to come right back and turn the tables. And she’d done a damn fine job.

The three faces of Melanie Craine just didn’t click. She’d been a witch wearing yellow, a tease in severe office black, a vamp wearing nothing at all. And he was about to get hard again, dammit. So he pushed away thoughts of Melanie and pushed open the gate of the eight-foot cedar fence into Chloe and Eric’s backyard.

The crowd was huge, the pool inviting, the air humid and hot. He wanted a cold beer in a very bad way and he wanted to see his sister, but he didn’t want anything half as bad as he wanted to get his hands on Melanie Craine.

PUSHING BACK LONG STRANDS of curling chestnut hair from her face, Renata Faulkner handed Eric Haydon a plate of burgers ready for the grill.

He was a nice guy, but definitely not a guy she would’ve expected to find living with Chloe Zuniga. Though it seemed time had indeed healed all wounds, the Chloe whom Renata had known had always been too hard-core, bitterly sullen and punk. And here was Eric, amazingly all-American.

Then again, maybe there was more truth than Renata had ever wanted to believe to the theory of opposites attracting. It seemed to be working brilliantly for these two. Her reunion with Chloe might be but days old, yet Renata had seen enough to know her friend had found herself the real deal.

“Hey, thanks,” Eric said, trading her for a platter of burgers just short of well-done. “I see Chloe hijacked you into kitchen detail.”

Renata grinned. “She always was the bossy type. And definitely never one who took no for an answer when she wanted a big fat yes.”

“You’re not telling me a damn thing I haven’t spent a good year figuring out.” Eric dodged another blast of flame and smoke. “She’s a piece of work and then some.”

“C’mon now, sugar. Don’t be talking trash about your woman to her old friends.” Walking up and into the conversation, Chloe smacked Eric soundly on his denim-covered backside. “I’d rather Rennie remember me in my more precious incarnation.”

Renata laughed out loud. “Precious as a sliver of broken glass beneath the ball of a bare foot.”

Her arm snug around Eric’s waist, Chloe arched a brow sharply. “I can see leaving you two alone together is not going to be a good idea. A girl needs to know her secrets are safe rather than being shared for a laugh.”

Eric lowered the grill’s heavy lid, hooking an elbow around Chloe’s neck and gesturing with the barbecue tongs he held in the same hand. “C’mon now, princess. We’re not laughing at you. Only with you.”

“Right.” Chloe ducked out from beneath Eric’s arm and linked her fingers through Renata’s. “We’ll be leaving you now to your manly meat business.”

Eric sulked. “But I thought you liked my manly meat business.”

Chloe rolled her eyes as Renata laughed and let her old friend drag her away. “He’s such a doll. Wherever did you find him?”

“It was one of those six degrees of separation things. I knew Lauren, Lauren knew Anton, Anton knew Eric. Hmm. I guess that’s only three degrees,” Chloe amended, then shrugged and grimaced. “Five minutes. I need five minutes off my feet. I’ve been running like crazy for hours.”

Skirting the newly installed swimming pool, the women settled on opposite sides of the patio’s glass table beneath an umbrella of cream-and-green stripes. Propping her feet on the seat of a third chair, Chloe sighed in relief. “Anyway, Eric and I ended up paired for one of Macy’s gIRL gAMES. The rest, I suppose you can say, is history.”

Renata saw no need to hide her approval. “A period of history I wouldn’t mind studying in the least.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.” Renata looked toward Eric and smiled. She took a deep breath and shook her head appreciatively. “One of these days I am going to have to get myself one of those.”

“Shopping?” Chloe asked with a laugh.

“Definitely in the market. Though not in any sort of desperate, beat-the-sales-crowd rush.” Settling back into her chair, Renata turned her attention back to Chloe. “I’ve made it this long on my own, and don’t see any need to be stupid.”

“Hey, no one said you had to be stupid, though you’ve got to agree that we’re all entitled to a bit of questionable behavior between here and there. I’ve definitely been guilty of my fair share.” Chloe glanced in Eric’s direction again and Renata couldn’t help but wonder what thoughts were going through her girlfriend’s mind.

She followed the direction of Chloe’s gaze, skipping over Eric and frowning when she caught sight of a guest she couldn’t place from Chloe’s earlier introductions. A guest Renata had a hard time believing belonged.

He leaned against the trunk of the backyard’s massive oak tree, a Shiner longneck dangling from his fingers. His complexion brought to mind the Mediterranean, as did his dark hair, long and loose, hanging in twisted strands to skim his shoulders.

His attitude, however, made the biggest impression, his insolent expression that of the defiant boys Renata saw so often at school. Yet it was more. A sort of wary regard, as if he was protecting his back while keeping a distrustful eye on the enemy camp. She found it hard to look away—a strange response, because she’d never been taken in by the renegade type.

“Who is that?” she asked, nodding in his direction when Chloe looked back to see who she meant.

“Oh. Patrick Coffey, Ray’s brother. You met Ray, right? Sydney’s Ray?” And that was all she said.

Renata wanted to know more. “Hmm. He looks like he’d rather be swimming in the comfort of shark-infested waters.”

“He’d definitely be more at home if he were.” Chloe frowned. “I’d say he’s harmless but I’m not sure that he is. And it’s really a long story.”

“Shortcut it for me.” Now Renata really wanted to know more.

Chloe pulled her feet close to her body and wrapped her arms around her bare knees. “I see you’ve still got that dog-with-a-bone thing going on.”

“A skill that comes in handy for divining deep dark secrets.”

“I’m keeping track here, you know. A month of gUIDANCE gIRL mentoring for every sordid detail.”

“We’ll talk contract issues later. Just tell me about Patrick.”

Chloe rolled her eyes and gave up. “Patrick’s been home about a year now, I guess, after being held by—get this—real-life Caribbean pirates. I kid you not. It was really a rough few years for Ray.”

“And for Patrick, too, I’d think.” Pirates? How out of this world was that?

Chloe shrugged. “I’m guessing so. But since he hasn’t said a word about it, no one really knows.”

“He hasn’t talked to anyone?” This couldn’t be a good thing. “It’s something he ought to consider doing, to an impartial professional if he doesn’t want to talk to his brother.”

“Well,” Chloe began, slowly tightening her persuasive noose, “since he shows up at the office with Ray from time to time, you could make him your first gUIDANCE gIRL subject.”

Renata laughed. “In case you haven’t noticed, Chloe, there’s nothing girlish about Patrick.”

Chloe waved her off. “Yeah, yeah. That’s beside the point.”

“You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”

“Not a chance. Not after being subjected to your all-night, Rennie-knows-best sessions in high school.” Chloe’s teasing expression grew serious, her wide violet eyes misty and warm. “You were there when I needed you, and I’ve never forgotten.”

Renata reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “I’m so glad you ran into Jacob. I can’t believe I haven’t been around for so much of what’s happened in your life. I’ve really missed you.”

Chloe squeezed back. “Me, too. And I didn’t even realize that you were probably a lot of what I felt was missing in my life before I found Eric. But now that I have the both of you…talk about the best of both worlds.”

Renata laughed. “Well, I hope you continue to think that way after you’ve worked with me. The kids I deal with? I know better than to involve myself too much in their problems. I have to be able to sleep at night. And that means I end up taking out my frustration on close friends.”

She said it with a quirk of her mouth, thinking back to friends who were now enemies, as well as those who were no longer lovers for that very reason. Then she wondered if she’d learned her lesson, or if she was now putting Chloe into a direct line of not-so-friendly fire by agreeing to work with her.

Chloe only smiled, her lips frosted her trademark pink. “Isn’t that what friends are for? I know I’ve unloaded on Mel more than a few times. She usually smacks me around until my head’s on straight and then we move forward.”

“I guess I’m just giving you fair warning. If I claw your eyes out after a particularly rough day, don’t take it personally.”

“Oh, but clawing is on Chloe’s list of fetish favorites,” said a deep male voice from above her head.

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