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Even in the dimly lit club, I could make out the way the woman’s eyes flared, but Silas had assured me, everyone who worked at Whiskey Dolls was a professional, and they would be discreet. Clearly, whatever he said to the waitress drove that point home, because when she made it to my table, the surprise was gone and she looked at me the same way I assumed she’d look at any of her customers. She didn’t know it yet, but she’d just earned herself one hell of a tip.
“Evening,” she spoke with a hint of a Southern drawl in her voice. “What can I get you tonight?”
“Lagavulin. Neat, please,” I ordered, only tearing my eyes off the stage for the second it took to offer her a polite smile.
She returned the expression. “You got it. Be right back with your drink.” And with that, she spun on custom Mary Janes and made a beeline for the bar. Silas gave me a tip of his chin and disappeared into the shadows, my guess, heading back to his office at the back of the club to keep an eye on everything else.
On the walk to the table, I’d noticed there were security guards strategically placed all throughout the club, even one not too far from my table, their eyes constantly scanning the crowds, looking for troublemakers. It made sense, given the impeccable reputation I’d read the club maintained.
These guys would have to be on a swivel to keep shit from going down, especially if the dancers were as popular as they appeared to be. And given what I knew of Alma and how talented she was, I knew those stories couldn’t have been exaggerated.
Just as the waitress returned with my drink, the lighting lowered. A hush of anticipation fell over the entire audience, and I leaned forward, one hand gripping my tumbler like a vise as my heart lodged itself in my throat.
The stage spotlights blinked on as Gin Wigmore’s “Kill of the Night” blasted through the club’s sound system.
I couldn’t have ripped my eyes from her if I’d had a gun to my head. My heart pounded with the beat of the song, the harsh, painful breaths sawing in and out of my lungs. The woman on stage was a fucking vision.
It was her. My Alma. Not a single doubt about it. But there was something else there. Something unfamiliar tied in with everything that was the woman I remembered better than the back of my own hand. It took me a while to spot it, but when I finally did, it caused a piercing pain in my chest, like a knife had been driven right between my ribs.
There was a hardness in her eyes, in that bright red smile. The way she carried herself now was different. Like a kitten having grown up and discovered it had sharp claws.
She danced and moved like poetry, like always. But the way she drew the audience in with her eyes, seducing them with a single look, well, that was new. At least new to me. It was as if the woman I’d known, the one I’d fallen in love with the moment I laid eyes on her, was wearing a Teflon-coated armor that wouldn’t let anyone past.
But still... even with the layer of ice she cloaked herself in, my body reacted the same as it always had when I watched her do what she did best. My cock stirred beneath my fly, hardening to steel for the woman who mesmerized me with every move on the stage.
She’d definitely grown up in the past ten years.
She had always been beautiful to me, but there was more curve to her hips now, a more pronounced dip at her waist. She was womanlier now, having filled out in all the right places, and as she spun around on the stage, giving us all a glimpse of that perfect peach of an ass, I felt my cock weep as my blood filled with a longing only Alma Rossi had ever stirred to life.
I wanted her. I could still remember what it felt like to sink into her wet, velvety heat, to feel her flutter around me. I could close my eyes and picture her face as she took every inch of me, that awe in her eyes, like she wasn’t sure she could do it, followed by a pleased little grin once I bottomed out inside her. Or the breathtaking beauty on her face every time I made her come.
Jesus. I could remember how it made me feel every time I put that look on her face, how I felt like I was ten feet tall, fucking indestructible, all because I could pleasure my woman in a way no other man could.
At least that used to be the case.
An unpleasant thought slithered to the front of my mind. In the ten years since I lost her, had she found some other man who could do for her what I used to do? Had she given someone else that little grin? That flare of her eyes right before she sunk her teeth into her bottom lip as those walls of hers fluttered. Had there been other men to make her cry out and moan the way I had?
Jealousy rushed over me, and all of a sudden, I couldn’t stomach the thought of all these people seeing her up on that stage, so much of her body revealed in that fucking costume that barely covered her tits.
How many men were sitting in the audience at that very moment, sporting a hard-on like I was?
My molars ground together, my vision turning hazy and red. Lifting my glass, I threw back the scotch without even tasting it, needing the burn it provided to keep me grounded.
The waitress reappeared with another drink before I could even ask, doubling the hefty tip I already planned to give her at the end of the night.
I watched the rest of Alma’s number, feeling like a wild animal pacing its cage, desperate to escape. It wasn’t until the song ended and the stage went dark that I was able to pull in a full breath.
8
ROAN
Ididn’t have a fully formed plan for how I would go about revealing myself to Alma. Just bits and pieces shoved together and held with tape to create a vague, generalized idea. But all of that went out the window after I saw her perform on that stage. In her element.
I hadn’t wanted to blow my cover so soon and let people know I was here, but I knew that the hope of doing all of this silently, under the noses of the media and society, was a pipe dream. It was going to be damn near impossible to win Alma back without at least the people of Hope Valley knowing I was here. I could only hope this was the kind of small town where the people stuck close together, keeping most everything else on the outside. After all, that was what Alma had always dreamed of: living in a quiet, closed-off community that looked out for its own.
I wasn’t naïve enough to think I wouldn’t be found out eventually. I just prayed I managed to accomplish what I set out to accomplish by the time the vultures descended.
I waved the smart, helpful waitress over.
