Under the Lights (5 page)

Travis watched his new waitress curl up on
the bed and fall asleep. He had watched her all night as she’d
worked. Emma had stopped by after the show to tell him how
impressed she was with the new girl’s waitressing abilities.

He didn’t give a damn about her
drink-slinging talents. Travis had been fascinated by her face. She
was pretty, but it was the look of determination and—for lack of a
better word—hunger that caught his eye. He recognized the
exhaustion, the desperation and fear written there. He’d come to
know those emotions well. He also felt a definite attraction. That
would come as a surprise to Emma, who often accused him of taking
the California-girls dream too far. He typically surrounded himself
with tall, slim, suntanned blondes. Shea, with her dark hair, pale
complexion and curvaceous body, didn’t fit that bill.

He’d watched her walk into the women’s room
on one of the security monitors and been surprised when she didn’t
come back out. After Bill locked up, he’d waited patiently. She
didn’t disappoint him. Travis watched her sneak out with flashlight
in hand. He picked up his phone, ready to call the police. However,
her attire confused him and he paused. She appeared to be dressed
in pajamas.

When she walked to the stage and lay down on
the bed, he rose, watching her through the two-way glass. That was
when he realized her goal wasn’t robbery, it was rest.

He stood watching her for nearly half an
hour. Once he decided the exhausted girl was deeply asleep, he
quietly crept down the stairs at the back of the stage. Shedding
his shoes at the foot of the staircase, he padded across the stage
until he stood next to her. Dim lighting from his open office door
illuminated her face.

Shea Landon. Emma had told Travis her name.
While he was typically absent from the main parts of the club,
there was very little that happened in the place he didn’t know
about.

He was curious about the petite woman.
Reaching down, he picked up her duffel bag, retrieving the
mini-flashlight she’d used earlier. He didn’t feel guilty about
searching her stuff. After all, the woman was squatting in his
club. Best to make sure she didn’t have a weapon.

Her bag didn’t answer his questions. If
anything, it added more. There were several changes of clothing,
some toiletries, a wallet and four books—all of them reminding him
of the romance novels he’d been reading lately. Who the hell was
this woman?

He replaced her things and put the duffel
back on the floor. Shea rolled over and curled into a ball, nearly
losing her blanket in the process. Travis slowly and carefully
pulled the blanket up until it once more covered his sleeping
waitress.

He was losing his mind. If he had half a
brain, he’d wake her and fire her ass. Shea mumbled something
incoherent and he grinned.

“You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?” he
whispered.

She sighed, but didn’t stir.

Fuck it. He wasn’t going to fire her. Where
was the fun in that?

He climbed the stairs to his office, shutting
the door. Usually he headed to his apartment but he didn’t want to
leave Shea alone. Grabbing a blanket from the chair, he lay down on
the couch. For the first time in a long time, he actually felt
sleepy, his usual insomnia remaining at bay. His last thought
before he drifted to sleep was of Shea. He didn’t know who she was,
but she’d done something no one had done in a very long time.

Surprised him.