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  She didn’t look down.

  Buns were one thing.

  Full frontal was another and something she did not indulge in. No matter how sweet the kiss on the cheek or chivalrous the holding of the door. Plus, how many times did these guys lose their special socks? All the time. Her temples tensed as she and an equally chiseled but leaner Gabe stood there examining his torn costume.

  To be a man that comfortable with his nude body. At twenty-three and three-quarters, glimpses of herself in the full-length mirror still made her feel more like a pre-pubescent boy most days than a grown woman. At this rate and with her current hang-ups, she’d be the only one to ever see her lack of hips and boobs anyway.

  Sam has seen, she thought and blinked at Gabe, embarrassed for thinking those thoughts in front of him.

  The pink burn started over her chest and crept its way up her neck to her cheeks and ears. Sam might not even remember. That was two years ago. God only knows how many gorgeous women he’s seen since then.

  She almost let out an “Ugh” but held it in.

  She took a second to glance at the mock Academy Award statue the guys had gifted her last year. “Best Leading Lady” it said.

  You have a business degree and help manage Boulder City’s most lucrative nighttime entertainment. These guys love you like family. That’s what you should be proud of.

  She could keep telling herself that. But Emma knew she wasn’t all that different from those loud, brazen women on the other side of the wall. She’d go without just about anything if it meant finding someone who made her feel like the only girl on the planet.

  She wanted to ball up her fists and scream that he was under this very roof, right now, but Gabe didn’t need to witness that meltdown.

  He gave a nervous little twitch at the awkward time that had just passed between them. “Ummmm, so yeah, I’m on in three and this wasn’t my rip-away pair.” She barely heard him, as he was prone to speak in that soft, baritone voice. He held the material out to her. Hope filled his gorgeous brown eyes that she could save them and quickly. Emma loved that they came to her with this stuff because as good as Ellen was, the woman just wasn’t as approachable. What had Jay called Emma? A “player’s coach?”

  “Favorite pair?” Emma asked, wanting to make Gabe comfortable in her presence again.

  “Only pair. And apparently not strong enough for these ladies tonight. My extras are all missing.”

  “Hmm. So the no-tipping policy isn’t keeping the ladies on their best behavior,” she said. “I’ll have to come up with some more ideas.”

  “Nah, it’s okay. You wanna keep the show sexy and welcoming. It’s just for fun, Emma. We get that.”

  They looked at each other, shared a nod of mutual respect at his graciousness, and then named the missing undies culprit in unity, “Jay.”

  Sexy, silly Jay, always pulling pranks.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll do a quick fix right now and then stitch them up properly after the show. Then we’ll raid Jay’s locker before we leave. I’m thinking he needs all his booty pants exchanged for extra smalls. We’ll give him a whole new appreciation for tighty-whiteys.” They shared a fist bump and a much-needed laugh. “I also think you’re down to two minutes, hon.” She devised a quick fix plan and filled him in. “Place them how they should fit, and I’ll safety pin them for now.”

  Gabe wrapped the undies around his narrow yet muscle-lined hips and between his legs, then Emma gave a small thanks to God that the strip she would fasten lie at one of those fine hips and not between the legs. Three extra small and well-placed pins later, and he was good to go.

  “You be careful and don’t let them rip these ones off. Gotta protect what your momma gave you,” she told him, happy for the brotherly feeling she got from the show’s other military vet.

  “I will. Hey, were you looking for someone?” he asked, startling her.

  She was, but…

  “Why do you ask?” Sometimes it felt like this place had eyes and ears everywhere. She glanced at the monitor above and its live feed streaming on her desktop computer.

  He shied away for a second and then gave her that all-knowing look. “I can always tell when you get that look, mama.”

  They both knew exactly who Gabe was referring to.

  But to save herself from having to search him out, and besides it was killing her that she might have to find Sam in the S room, she asked. “Okay, I give. You haven’t seen Sam backstage yet, have you?”

  Gabe gave her that look. Apparently, her “I have only professional and platonic feelings for Sam Jason” face sucked. And because they’d both served in the Army, Gabe and Sam were two of the closest dancers. Inside, she crossed fingers, toes, even her eyes that Gabe wouldn’t say the letter S.

  Instead, he stepped up to her, the snake swirling around the apple staring at her from his hand, and pulled the traipsing piece of bang out of her eyes. “He’s not in there. I haven’t seen him since I came off stage just now. But I’ll go find him for ya.”

  “Thanks, hon,” she rattled out.

  Gabe just bowed and strutted out. His newly booty-pants-covered buns flexed in the most adorable way and she knew it was because he was squeezing them with each step he took. Always toning. All for the ladies, and the occasional gentleman. But no one’s buns were more eye-catching than Sam’s.

  No one’s.

  Maybe his not working here was a good idea. Maybe it was necessary to her sanity and the only way she would ever be able to move on. And let him go move on and find someone he was better suited to. His body was beautiful, but so was his soul. The way he was always doing little things for all of them there at S. He deserved and would want to find someone he could make love to with everything he had, give himself over to completely.

  Sadness at not being able to handle him always came back to haunt her.

  Desperately, she needed to be distracted again. Her mind slid to how the top rise of his bubble butt always peeked out from the waistline of his pants.

  No, not the kind of distraction you need! Her own cheeks ached to be touched with that large, protective hand of his.

  Again, Emma Lynne Chester, no! Her mind again slipped and she wondered exactly how demanding a lover he would be.

  Forget it, you’re a lost cause. Emma sighed. As long as she kept these thoughts to herself, that’s what mattered, right? More curiosities came. She gave in. Had his time in combat left him rough and raw, somewhere under all that patience he displayed? What sacrifice would he need from a woman?

  “Stupid, stupid girl. Why did you ask to do this to him?” she muttered out loud.

  But she knew. If anyone was going to bring bad news, it had to be her. She just hoped he didn’t resent her for it. That would break her heart most of all. How the man could continue to work his ass off, balancing S six days a week and his construction job a full seven, all for a mother who’d abandoned him and probably paid no attention to who sent her the monthly check, made no sense. Until she remembered who she was talking about.

  Honorable, loyal, selfless Sam Jason.

  “Stupid, stupid, stupid girl,” she muttered again, then grit her teeth and prepared how she’d deliver the news. She threw random pairs of briefs, tank tops and a smattering of cock socks into the washer until she came to the only large pair.

  His.

  “I will not cry. We don’t fit. This is not about me. It will never be about us.”

  She measured a cup of detergent to add and concentrated on filling it to the little raised line. Kind of hard to do when your eyes were tearing up.

  A few seconds later and three quick tap, tap, taps sounded at her door. Her breath caught so hard she nearly slammed her hand in the washer. Fabric softener she’d been measuring spilled and splattered over her shirt-dress, making it stick to her goose-pimpled skin.

  “Shoot.”

  Gabe had been too fast and efficient.

  Sam was on the other side, knocking his knock.

 
It was time to cut her best friend down yet again. She’d wasted these last two years being afraid to “go there” with him and now it was too late. This was good-bye.

  Chapter Two

  Sam rubbed the heels of his palms over his eyes trying to wipe some of the tired away and waited. He rolled and cracked his neck in an effort to perk back up and noticed a swipe of sticky pink glitter over his left pec where his white shirt hung open. He scrubbed the lip prints off, amazed at the agility of the woman in the front row he’d pegged as more mature. These ladies were like a box of chocolate. You never knew who might jump you. Sometimes it was the quiet ones. For the most part, the ladies were pretty harmless, and he enjoyed doing something good for them. Everyone needed an escape now and then, he understood that.

  Tonight, though. Tonight had been another amusing one.

  Life was like that.

  It was all about rolling with the punches and taking one when you had to.

  Tonight, he had to take one, but he’d take a Mack truck careening down the highway if it meant manning up. Especially when it was for the best friend he owed his life to.

  Emma was not about to do this for him, no matter what she thought she had up her sleeve.

  Jay, dressed in what they joked was their Flavor Flav getup, walked by and flashed him three fingers, signaling it was almost time for Sam to return to the stage and be part of the back line for the hip-hop number. Sam, dressed in the Navy officer duds he’d hastily thrown back on after leaving the stage to go find Ellen, waved his hand in a slicing motion near his neck and pointed at Donovan who was his last-minute replacement. Now that Sam had tracked Ellen down and resigned as a Stay dancer, he wouldn’t be going up there and popping, locking, and dropping his pants. He’d had no time to tell the guys. That part sucked.

  But there were other jobs he could get and only one best friend who’d ever meant the world to him. He wasn’t letting her put herself in this position. No way, no how. The guilt would eat Emma up and spit her out.

  His eyes might be trying to close every two seconds, but this was important. He knocked again, three quick taps.

  As soon as she opened up and looked at him, he saw it. She thought she was about to seriously ruin his night.

  He would take that off her shoulders right about now.

  “Sam,” she said first, cutting him off, as usual. He just stared at her and winked, appreciating the usual when it came to her.

  She patted her loose blouse which appeared wet in places, and he noted how distracted she seemed. He’d learned to ignore his instinct to look away when a girl was acting like that and instead kept his eyes on her. Working for women every night had taught him tons of invaluable stuff—it was just a matter of remembering it all and in the right situation.

  Emma’s mouth opened. He couldn’t let her be the first one to speak.

  “Hey.” He hugged her then pulled back. She needed to eat more, and her clothes were too thin. This office was way too cold which explained why he often found her leaning against the dryer. “I’m giving you a gift card to Vita-Max for Christmas. Your protein intake is nowhere near where it should be.”

  “Hey you back,” she said, rubbing her hands together, ignoring him as usual.

  “Damn.”

  “What?”

  “Donovan’s loaning you his space heater until maintenance fixes the thermostat. I forgot to grab it.” Donovan talked about Florida about sixty times a day and how he missed the weather but not the drama. Yeah, Sam understood that.

  “Wow. His heater. I’m impressed,” she said and moved from trying to warm her hands to giving it a go with her arms. All his fault, but the room became that weird kind of quiet for a couple seconds as he stood there, knowing this was when he should spit out his news. Too late.

  “I’m glad you found me so I didn’t have to go tracking you down. Gabe?” she asked, naming their mutual friend, a quiet dude he’d relied on a number of times over the past two years. Gabe was rational and bled green, just like Sam.

  “Yeah, Gabe.”

  “Good, well, do you have a second?” she said. Her eyes scanned his face but skipped around, avoiding direct contact for the most part. She was clearly uncomfortable, but he appreciated the way she still made him feel like a person with thoughts. He would not let her take this on herself.

  Sam walked a few more steps into the ER and pulled out her faux-furry chair. “Why don’t you sit down for a minute?” he told her.

  Her brown eyes, a cool contrast to her blonde hair, caught fire and questioned him. She was quick and wouldn’t let him lead her around for long. But at least she took a seat.

  “You?” She gestured toward her desk, but as one of the guys who’d helped put it together, he knew the flimsy thing wouldn’t hold his weight. Instead he copped a squat on the floor beside her.

  Her office smelled like fabric softener and Halloween candy. Yeah, they still hoarded it. Old high school habits die hard. Damn, they’d come a long way since then. Truth be told, he was gonna miss her like crazy when he left here.

  “You got any candy corn left?” he asked, still finding it hard to believe how Mr. and Mrs. Chester had taken him in. They’d never once alluded to the fact they couldn’t really afford another mouth to feed. It was just one of those things you knew and didn’t talk about.

  She pulled out a mini-bag and tossed it at him. “Is the sky neon?”

  He tore it open at the Vegas joke and threw a piece her way, which she expertly caught in her mouth like a piece of popcorn. He chuckled at how many hours they’d practiced doing that on his balcony, and how pissed they both got whenever one fell to the downstairs neighbor’s back porch.

  So exactly how long would the two of them sit here stalling?

  Was there a better way to deal with this work situation?

  If he sucked it up and let Emma suspend him, he’d have to go take back his resignation, but he’d stay on as a dancer and still be able to pay off the Chesters’ mortgage by Christmas as planned.

  Helping the Chesters ranked at the very top of his bucket list, and after two combat tours in his four years as a soldier, he’d vowed to make things happen, not let them happen. Wasted time only pissed him off. Every time he reminded himself of that, Emma’s face popped into view crystal clear because their past was the one and only thing he’d yet to figure out, the one and only regret he’d yet to turn into a positive.

  Sam looked into Emma’s eyes and then down to the floor.

  If he let his resignation stand, he gave up the ridiculous amounts of money he made here but kept his combat promise intact.

  No wasted time. If something ain’t working, fix it. Nothing should ever happen to you. You make things happen.

  Hell, he’d find another night job, even if it meant stocking at the holiday madhouses they called stores this time of year. Whatever he had to do to stay on task and help the Chesters, who’d taken out a second mortgage to send Emma to college, he’d do. It would just take him longer and yeah, he owed her parents. Damn, he was about to get choked up at the thought and snorted in a loud nose-full of air, hoping he’d played it off sufficiently.

  His military uniform pants tightened and pinched as he went down into a deeper crouch beside her, still trying to shake off the emotional moment.

  “Sam, you’re gonna be—” she started to say then stopped.

  Damn, his chest felt like it grew two sizes just then. Apparently his pride wasn’t gonna let him stay here, no matter how good the money was.

  “I already quit, Emma. No one’s gonna be late tonight. I’m done,” he said.

  “Wait. What? You quit?” Her brow pulled into a vee and her cheeks flushed. Not like the male revue virgins that came to the shows all wide-eyed and ready to feast, but like she was legitimately angry with him. “You quit your job, here? Outright?”

  “Yes.” What else could he say? He should say more because no way did he want her twisting things in that stubborn head of hers and shelving the blame. “It
was time. I knew this day would come and turns out today was as good as any. I wanted you to know.” Humor, he needed it. “Don’t worry, I won’t be showing up on your parents’ doorstep begging for a place to stay again.” A tiny sliver of pain pierced his chest where thoughts of his own parents were concerned.

  “Hey, you never begged. I dragged you home with me, remember?”

  He did remember. Every detail. Whereas he’d had nothing but the clothes on his back that day after school, today he had savings and a day job and a dad up in heaven who he hoped he’d made proud. He owed it all to the Chesters.

  “When did you quit?” she asked, blowing off his lame attempt at distracting her. “You just came off stage. I watched—” But she cut herself off there.

  She’d watched.

  He wondered if she ever did that. Just out of curiosity, that was all. Nothing more. His ego soared before he shut down the useless thought involving Emma. She’d always intrigued him with her huge brown eyes and most importantly, smarts. Those two things had never changed about her. He looked at her now, playing with fire. Which is why he never let himself slip. If sex and a woman’s attention were what he needed, he could tuck his tail between his legs and go hit up the woman who’d left her glossy lip prints on him. Or a number of other women who’d done the same. Really not what he was after at this point in his life. So what was he after?

  Sam clasped his hands together and then circled his wrist, trying to make his fingertips reach like a cuff. He squeezed. “Just a few minutes ago,” he said and rocked back, nearly landing on his butt.

  “Sam, I know you better than that. What happened? You don’t quit jobs.”

  That was true. She knew him well but had no idea of the arrangement between him and her parents, which was why he couldn’t just have the one job right now. He’d done the math enough times to know he needed two full-time jobs to keep on track. Her cheek pulled in on one side, making him copycat the motion. It hurt when he bit down hard on the inside.

  “Ellen found you and told you, didn’t she?” Now she looked hurt and pissed at what she thought their manager had done. Her small hand formed into a formidable fist and her knuckles tapped against the desk.