Strip Search (18 page)

The truth hurt.

At Zack's cue, Mark tried the sequence again. This time, he damn near tripped on his own two feet. Nicki winced again, as her stage manager stomped his foot, a loud boom resounding through the club.

"I told you to spend the last three days practicing. From what I can tell, you've spent them glowering. You've got that look down. Now you'll be all prepared to imitate Clint East-wood in a thong. Too bad no one asked for that."

"How's it going?" Lucia asked, easing into her office.

Nicki turned to greet her. "Not well."

Together, they watched the stage.

Mark glared at Zack, looking half a heartbeat away from telling the smaller man to go fuck himself. Apparently, Mark did not care if he made friends and influenced people, at least where Zack was concerned.

"His mood looks almost as bad as yours," her sister commented.

"I am not surly."

"So you regularly chew out the pizza guy for taking twenty-two minutes to deliver? And you know, I've never seen you pounce on either of your bartenders for failing to clean a lone glass. You snapped at my mother when she called to check up on me, I'm told."

Guilty as charged. Nicki sighed. "Okay, so I'm feeling a little bitchy. It's not totally new."

"You've just taken it to new heights the past few days.

Why don't you just get rid of the man? He can't do the job, and he's making you miserable."

Her shoulders drooped. "I know."

"But he's still here, because you're not ready to let him go." It wasn't a question. Lucia knew her too well.

"It's just ... There was something between us, like this click. I felt good with him. He can make me laugh. He's one of the few men who really sees me and hasn't run screaming. My bitchiness just rolls off his back. For the first time in more than two years, I was with someone who made me feel good and sexy. With him, I knew it was okay to be smart and strong and vulnerable all at once. Or I thought so, until he got up, dressed, and slammed the door on his way out."

Lucia wrapped her arms around Nicki's shoulders. Dropping her head back against Lucia, Nicki tried not to succumb to the stupid tears she'd been battling for days. Why cry over the man? He worked for her, and she'd made the mistake of having sex with him. It wasn't as if they'd tried for a lasting relationship.

All of that was true, and yet ... Nicki wanted more, missed him even now. She couldn't even say why exactly.

Back onstage, Zack put his hands on his hips, then wagged a finger at Mark. "My grandfather with Parkinson's can do better than that. Let's put a little effort into the move this time, shall we?"

Mark tried again. The results were about the same as before--disastrous.

"Has Mark tried to talk to you since his abrupt departure?" Lucia asked.

She nodded. "Tuesday morning, he did his best to ply me with bagels and an apology. I was still so mad, I slammed the door in his face. Then, before the club opened, I found a box of chocolates in my office chair."

"Did you eat them?"

Nicki turned to give her sister a duh-style glance. "Were they chocolate?"

"Good point. Did you say anything to him?" "Not yet. I was too mad until this morning."

"And now you just want to cry." Another statement. Lucia really did know her. "Anything else?"

"Yesterday afternoon, he left a nice bottle of chilled merlot on my doorstep, along with a note asking if we could share it so he could grovel appropriately."

"Where is the bottle?"

"In my fridge."

"Darn, I was hoping you'd use your landlord key and pour that nice bottle all over his bed. Maybe give his tighty whities a nice dousing so they'd wash up pink."

"You're evil," Nicki said with a weak laugh, which morphed into a sigh. "This morning when I woke up, I really wanted to talk to Mark. I mean, like, so bad it hurt, which probably makes me ten kinds of stupid. I know what he did was crappy."

"At least you're clear on that."

"But I keep thinking that something went wrong so suddenly. His behavior the second half of that night was so weird. He was like Jekyll and Hyde, perfect and charming one moment, and an intimidating but sexy ass the next. I keep wondering if I did something ... He was mad. And it seemed like he was mad at me."

"You wonder if
you
did something?" Lucia incredulity rang in her voice. "No."

"I know. I'm making excuses for him. Maybe he suddenly felt odd about sleeping with his boss."

"So odd that he did it again?"

"Okay, so that's not it. But something happened."

"Like he got off and was done with you?"

Nicki glared at her sister. "Who's telling you this stuff?"

"I'm a smart girl, remember. You are, too. Don't make more excuses for Mark."

"But maybe ... he's bipolar."

"Maybe you have it bad."

Her shoulders drooped again. "I know."

"I shouldn't tell you this; it will only encourage you. But I hate to see you mope." Lucia sighed. "If it makes you feel any better, he has asked me how to get back into your good graces."

"Really?" That sounded at least somewhat promising. And he
had
left gifts. Geez, she was sounding pathetic. "What did you tell him?"

"To go to hell."

Sighing, Nicki rolled her eyes. "Great."

"I may have done you a favor." Lucia crossed her arms across her ample chest. "I think he's hiding something, to be honest."

Nicki frowned. "Hiding something? Like what?" "I don't know. But I went to his apartment on Tuesday morning early to cuss him out for upsetting you--"

"You didn't!"

"Oh, trust me, I did. He got the message. But while I was there, I got a peek around. No sprucing up the place. I doubt he'd been to the grocery store yet. But he had an apartment full of electronics. Not TVs and stereos, like a normal guy, but a laptop, a Blackberry, a portable printer, a few CDs, a video camera. He had papers and file folders stacked on kitchen table, and all that equipment was humming. Mind you, it was barely five-thirty in the morning. It just made me wonder what he's up to."

Nicki's frown deepened. Lucia had a good point. What did an exotic dancer need with all those gadgets?

A
few minutes later, the lights in Nicki's office went out. Through the smoked glass, Mark could see that she and Lucia had left the room.

Behind him, Zack switched off the music again and shoved his hands on his hips in a pose that couldn't be interpreted any way except annoyed.

"That's it! I'm talking to Nicki and telling her to fire your ass. I don't even see effort on your part."

Zack was very passionate about the club and the show ... and maybe, Mark thought, he could use that to his advantage.

"I ... I'm just distracted."

"Distracted? My grandfather who practically raised me is slowly dying, and my last relationship just ended. Talk about distracted! You don't see me bringing it here."

"You're right." Mark did his best to stroke the other man's ego. "You've got it together. My problem is, my distraction is always here." He glanced up to Nicki's empty office.

"You and the boss lady?"

Mark shrugged. Not for anything would he give away the truth about the extent of his interaction with Nicki. Even if she had deceived him, used her body to distract him. He wasn't the advertising sort of guy when it came to his sex life. Even telling Rafe for the sake of the case had gone against his grain.

"I'd like that, but so far ... I'm not having a lot of luck. I did something the other day that apparently made her mad, which wasn't my intent. I feel really bad about it."

Well, at the time he hadn't given a shit what Nicki thought. He'd quickly seen the error of his ways, given the fact that being on Nicki's bad side was not helping his case. Her refusal to deal with him now that she apparently didn't need to distract him from her accounting records at the moment also pointed to her guilt. If he didn't have this case to work, he would cut her loose and get her out of his mind. Or do his best, anyway.

Though it was likely an act, he also couldn't get her hurt expression and wide, wet blue eyes out of his head. However, getting back on her nice list was about the case. It had to be.

"And?" Zack prompted.

"I want to make it up to her. What does she like? How can I make her see me so I can say I'm sorry?" For good effect, Mark added an extra measure of brooding.

"You're not going to be able to wipe away bad performance on the stage by buttering her up." Zack wagged his finger at him.

"I wouldn't try," he assured the stage manager. "The reason she's mad isn't my performance; it was something in a conversation."

One conducted horizontally in her bed in which her amazing body closed around him in a mind-blowing welcome and clung until every dip and curve fit perfectly to him. He could still hear her cries of pleasure in his ears. He'd had the marks from her nails on his back for the last three days. And when he'd had his mouth on her, the taste of her rippling over his tongue ... so sweet. Addicting. Guilty or not, Mark wanted her again. Given what he knew about her accounting records and the manner in which she'd arranged the first time they'd had sex, partnered with her cold shoulder since and the urgency of his desire even now, Nicki was probably as guilty as sin.

He sure knew how to pick 'em.

"Hmm. Let me think." Zack cocked his head and stared at the cavernous metal rigging above. Suddenly a broad smile split his smallish face. "I'll make you a deal. If you can finish the first half of this routine without stumbling or glowering, and finish it well, I'll help you out."

Mark perked up. Finally, an accomplice. With Zack's help, he could get this case back on track, and while he was finishing his investigation he'd get Nicki out of her clothes and preferably impaled on his cock.

"Really? Great!"

"This isn't a gimmie," Zack warned. "You have to do the routine right."

"Absolutely." Mark nodded. "I'll do my best. I just appreciate the help."

"You help me by learning, and I'll help you with information. Besides, Nicki needs a little diversion. She works too hard, fixates on this place. Getting her mind on something else would do everyone good."

Sporting a big smile, Mark asked, "So where in the routine do you want me to start?"

Zack reached over to the boom box and fiddled with the CD. "From the top. Remember, it better be good."

With a nod, Mark got into position upstage. Gritting his teeth, he waited for the music so he could start counting the beats, like Mario, his instructor in New York, had taught him.

He hated this. Really. Was their anything worse than embarrassing oneself in public like this? He just loathed practicing all this strutting on the stage, knowing that, unless he finished this case fast, he would be doing it in front of total strangers wearing less than the average pair of underwear real soon. He was going to look like a football player in butt floss. Rafe would surely laugh his ass off if he could see. Not a comforting thought.

On the other hand, he needed Zack's help pronto. Which meant he had to show that he was, in fact, capable of performing the routine.

Damn!

The pulsing music began, filling the air with a deep, sexy beat that seemed somehow ancient and modem at once, in keeping with his Viking theme. Mark began counting the beats until his cue arrived. At the appropriate throb in the music, he strutted downstage, doing his best impression of a cross between a gigolo and a runway model, the one that always made him sure he was going to lose his lunch. Cursing under his breath, he stopped, shook his ass in a manner that would surely do a pro cheerleader proud, then glanced over his shoulder with a wink. Not directed at Zack, thank you. He wasn't going to flirt with a gay man who was already clapping and whistling.

With another pivot, Mark threw off his homed helmet. Too bad he couldn't seem to dent the damn thing. He'd already tried breaking the horns off. No luck.

Next, the shirt came off with a quick tear of Velcro. He got appropriately down and dirty with the makeshift costume, his original still missing, thank God. If all went according to plan, it would stay that way. Finally, he finished up the sequence after a few more turns, facial expressions that made him want to plow Zack's face with his fist for dreaming up this crap, then the ripping off of his pants. A few hip thrusts later, which truly made him wonder if he could perform this in public, and he was done.

Zack jumped up and down, clapping like a little kid who'd received his favorite present for Christmas.

"You did it! And that was stunning. Positively yummy! I had no idea you really knew the routine and could move like ..." Suddenly, he frowned. "Hey, wait. You could do it all along!"

Busted.
Getting back into Nicki's good graces was worth it--barely, but it was.

Mark merely answered Zack's accusations with a smile.

"Lucy, you got some 'splainin' to do!" He wagged his finger in Mark's face.

He shrugged. "I didn't have the right incentive before."

Zack glared at him, but Mark could tell that, deep down he was amused. Finally, a conspiratorial smile crossed his face. "Oh, you are a devil. Nicki won't know what hit her. Sweep her off her feet!"

Too bad sweeping her off her feet just might mean carrying her off to prison. That is, if she was as guilty as she appeared to be. Instead, he just nodded. "That's the plan. Now, tell me everything I want to know . . ."

I
t was a damn long day. After reams of tedious paperwork, a visit to her masochistic aerobics instructor's class, a flat tire, errands all over town, and an unwelcome message from Uncle Pietro, saying he'd be in town over the upcoming Memorial Day weekend, the last thing Nicki expected as she walked toward her apartment door was to be abducted.