A Beautiful Distraction(12)

Rafe nodded. “George, right? I’m a friend of Graham’s,” he stated, hoping that was all the information he needed to present.

The bouncer nodded back his reply and stepped aside to allow Rafe in.

Okay. Easy enough.

The first thing Rafe noticed when he walked in the club was that it looked nothing like he’d expected. Judging from the clean lines of the exterior architecture, he thought inside he would see sleek white leather couches, contemporary furnishings and accents, solid primary colors.

But instead, he walked into a room that was saturated in warmth and luxury. The concrete floor was stained a crisp cream with deep, rich mahogany faded throughout. The bar that was directly to his right was placed in front of a mirrored backdrop, the entire wall a solid mirror sheet. The bar itself was tall and thick, with a gold trim engraved with intricate patterns. And the deep cherrywood of the counter was sheened with a glaze and aged beautifully.

Rafe’s parents owned a bakery in Philly. He’d been just a kid when his mom opened the bakery, but he noticed, even at such a young age, her eye for detail—her love of the little things that made up the bigger picture. And Rafe paid attention. He took notice. He digested the little details. She’d taught him to appreciate the small beauties—whether the shape of the almonds in her biscotti, the fresh-cut peonies she put in the vase on the counter, or the wrinkles around her eyes when she smiled at him, he’d learned to notice.

And so he discerned the elegant beauty in this place. The deep plum of the sofas that gathered in the center of the club. The tall, thick tables that scattered around the floor. And the stage. There was only one. It was elaborate and large, rimmed with the same intricate gold trimming that was on the bar. A beautiful cedar-colored hardwood floor covered the platform and a thick gray curtain draped across the back. Had he known any better, he would have thought he was at a theater.

The strip clubs he frequented consisted of a few long tablelike stages that made runways throughout the room, and at any given time there were nearly naked women slinking around.

Only one stage here, and he didn’t see one stripper.

Glancing around, it didn’t him take long to spot Graham. Although he was dressed to standards, Graham stuck out among the rest of the men. But then again, Rafe probably did too.

“Hey,” he said as he pulled out a barstool from beneath the table and sat down.

“You find the place okay?” Graham asked, looking around.

Rafe followed his gaze but couldn’t see anything worth searching for, so he refocused his attention back to Graham. “Yeah,” he answered. “And how the hell do you know the bouncer?”

Finally Graham peeled his eyes away from where they were sweeping the room and looked at him. “Oh, my buddy Dexter—I don’t think you’ve meet him. He’s in Iron Brigade. His girlfriend works here so he brought me with him quite a bit before we deployed. George is good people.”

Rafe’s head flinched back slightly as Graham’s explanation registered. “So we’re here to watch some dude’s girlfriend get naked?” There is no way in hell that shit would fly if it were him.

Rafe thought he just witnessed a flash of guilt cross over Graham’s face, but it was quickly replaced with a toothy grin. “They don’t get naked—not completely, unfortunately. They dance. They call it burlesque or some shit . . . I think. And, hell yes, we’re watchin’. She’s fuckin’ hot.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Rafe narrowed his eyes at Graham. “That’s all good and well, brother. But where’s this friend of yours? He’s fine with us watching his woman’s tits bounce around onstage?”

Graham laughed. “He’s not coming now, didn’t say why. He’s never seemed to care about other men watching Jade, though. Dexter was the one who suggested we come here tonight in the first place. Who do you think brought me here all those times before he started dating one of the dancers?”

Rafe shook his head. “Fuck that. I’m telling you, I could never let my girl get naked for other guys.”

“They don’t get fully naked.”

“I don’t give a shit if they wear granny panties. No woman of mine would take off her clothes and dance around onstage for fuckers like you. Period.”

“Fuckers like me? Shit, I’m their favorite customer.” Graham laughed, glancing around the room again. “The women here love me, man. I’ll introduce you to them.”

“Who are you looking for?” Rafe finally asked when Graham continued eyeing the club like a Secret Service agent.

He snapped his head back to Rafe. “Huh? Nobody.”