“And what’s with the internship, Heidi?” This from the redhead. “Wink-wink, right? That’s not really what your brother the mayor needs me for, is it?”
“Sure it is.”
“Then he’s paying me up front.”
“It’s a job. I’m doing you a favor.”
“And, considering my other skills, you’re doing your brother a favor, too?”
“I told him nothing. What you two do in the privacy of town hall is completely up to you.”
Interesting…Heidi was helping a town official with sex? Hmm.
“You about done down there?” Blythe’s voice startled him and he jerked up and bumped his forehead. “Yeah. Finishing up.” He twisted the joint, then scooted out. “Everything’s tight. No leaks.”
“Good, because I need to wash Autumn out.”
He pushed to his feet and returned the wrench to the toolbox. He looked around a little more, counted the cupboards, estimating square footage, then headed out.
In the archway, he stopped dead to watch Jasmine doing a backbend, both palms on the floor, one leg straight in the air. “How do they look?” If she meant her breasts, they looked amazing.
“Very natural,” Heidi said. “As if it’s part of you, as I promised. The better extensions are worth it.”
He still wasn’t sure they weren’t talking about her breasts.
“What’s up?” Samantha’s voice from behind made him jump. She’d come from the service entrance.
“I was just…checking things out,” he said.
Jasmine did a complex flip and rose with an erotic shimmy.
“Oh, I bet.” Samantha winked at him.
“I was. Really. The plumbing.”
“Like I said, I bet.” She pushed his arm. “I’m teasing, Rick. She’s gorgeous and you’re human. I hear their cabaret show is incredible. You should take your girlfriend maybe.” She patted the flyer sticking up from his pocket. “The girls will sign that for you, if you want.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Your girlfriend would disapprove?”
Shit. She thought he was cheating on his girl, ogling strippers like a chump. He hated that. “I wasn’t…That wasn’t…”
“Yes?”
“Oh, never mind.” Better leave it alone. He joined in the applause for Jasmine, who now bowed.
“So, Blythe, you met Rick?” Samantha said. “He tells me he’s been checking things out.”
“Evidently,” Blythe said, winking at him. Damn. They all thought he was a dog. Then Blythe narrowed her eyes and came at him, shoving her fingers into his hair. “You have nice texture, you know,” she said. “And it’s thick, but you wear it too short for your face.”
“He was in the army,” Samantha explained.
Heidi tilted her head to the side. “Spikes would help.”
“Exactly what I was thinking.” Blythe squirted a blob of foam in her hands, then rubbed it into his hair.
He tried to signal help me with his eyes, but Samantha just grinned. “Blythe’s a genius at matching people with the right do.”
“But I don’t have—”
“A do?” Blythe said. “Relax. I know. Men don’t have a do, they have a look and yours needs something.” She tugged his hair upward, then turned him by the jaw to the mirror. “How’s that?”
Four heads swiveled toward him and eight female eyes joined his in the mirror, where he saw that his hair stood up as if he’d stuck a finger in a socket.
“Very hot,” Samantha said.
“Very Brad Pitt,” Jasmine said.
“Very electrocution,” Rick said.
“He needs bleached ends,” the choreographer said. “Much more dramatic.”
“Oh, excellent,” Blythe said. “Honey-blond, don’t you think?”
“Or platinum-flax,” Heidi said, tapping her lip.
Nevada turned to scrutinize him. “Does he need a part?” She shoved his hair down on one side, her eye-popping rack bobbing right under his nose.
“Detracts from the dangerous glare he has,” Samantha said.
“I have a dangerous glare?” he said faintly. He was drowning in female attention—eyes digging in, fingers in his hair, boobs under his nose, and Samantha’s wry smile just inches away.
“And you’re ripped, too,” Autumn said, running her eyes down his chest, making him damned uncomfortable. “You should wear tailored clothes.” The other women nodded.
“Ever consider dancing?” Nevada said. “We’re thinking about adding some male numbers.”
“I don’t dance,” he said. And he certainly didn’t strip.