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Cade’s eyebrows shot up as if their recently divorced teammate had just revealed that he’d spent the afternoon painting his nails. And sure, maybe twelve months put the dramatic end of Dante’s marriage square in the past. But—
“I know you’re out of practice,” Cade said, the first one to recover. “But if you’re ready to get back in the game, you should keep your eye on the prize. Participating in the real deal.”
“Fuck you,” Dante said. “I met this girl and she invited me to her show.”
“A private show?” Ronan asked, folding his arms in front of his chest.
“Not yet,” Dante said. “But I bet I have a better chance of moving the show to my hotel room before Jack hits his deadline.”
His teammates turned to him. And shit, Cade looked like he might grind his teeth down to nothing. Jack looked past them, scanning the private room in the back of the new, hip Italian restaurant. He didn’t see Natalie. But he knew that if he had any hope of sitting down and talking to her, he needed to put an end to their current situation.
And yeah, he also wanted a repeat of this afternoon. Maybe a different position, or they could stick with straight up missionary. Though he wouldn’t mind a detour through her Yoga Poses for Blow Jobs playbook.
“Jack?” Cade said.
“He knows he can’t win this one,” Dante said.
“You’re right,” Jack said. “I’m not going to win. Natalie, well shit, she’s not into me.”
Dante laughed. “You knew that before you took the bet. She’s turned you down and tuned you out for years.”
No, she’s heard every word.
Jack shook his head. “I can’t win. I saw her this afternoon and she made it clear… I know when to call it. And this bet is off. I lose.”
“What happened?” Cade asked, his voice hard and challenging. “This afternoon—how did it go south?”
I fell for her.
“Nothing,” Jack said, looking his friend straight in the eyes. There was a chance Natalie had already talked to Cade. But he trusted his teammate to keep his mouth shut and let the others think Natalie had kicked him out before they’d lost their clothes.
“Your brothers are going to give you hell,” Ronan said mildly.
“Yeah,” Jack agreed. “And I’m sorry about your fifty bucks.”
Ronan shrugged. “I thought she liked you.”
“What is this? Grade school? The cold shoulder is really a ‘come chase me around the playground’ signal?” Dante said with a laugh.
Yes. But the grown-up version of the “playground” involved a bed.
“This is Vegas, Jack,” Dante continued, slapping him on the shoulder. “You’ll find som
eone else to keep you company while we’re on leave. That I’d bet money on.”
He could have sworn Cade let out a growl. But Jack kept his attention on Dante. “And what? Watch some chick fake it on stage?” Jack asked. “How the hell does that work? Was she naked?”
Dante’s smile faded. “She’s in this show. It’s part modern dance, part acrobats. No stripping, I swear. Summer—she’s not that kind of girl. She’s a physical therapist who danced in college. She tried out for the show hoping to find a way to pay off her school bills. I met her at the pool this morning. She offered me a ticket, and I went thinking it would be fun to see her move on stage. This woman. Her body. Man, I had to see her in action.”
“And then you found out modern dance meant fake orgasms?” Ronan asked.
“That’s what it looked like to me,” Dante said. “Between the sounds—”
Jack tuned his teammate out. He didn’t need to hear the details of a dancer’s erotic show. He’d witnessed the real thing earlier. They might have avoided the reasons for ending up in bed together, pretending it was all about the bet. But the end result was 100 percent authentic—times three.
Prince Charming had forfeited.
Natalie pressed her hand against the wine cellar’s glass wall. She’d been a step away from turning the corner and entering the private dining area on the other side of the bottles when she’d heard Jack’s voice.
