The Perfect Ingredient (Dare Valley) (13 page)

He fished out another hundred and placed it in the crystal bowl Rhett had appointed the Cussing Jar. Being around his friends had made his mouth revert back to its old ways. His Cuss Fund had definitely put him in the red this weekend.

“You need to turn the tables on Elizabeth. Take your shirt off and move like you know what you’re doing—even when you don’t.”

“No f-ing way.” Parade around shirtless in front of a bunch of women? His friend was nuts.

“Stand up,” Rye said like a drill sergeant, giving him an assessing glance. He added insult to injury by circling him. “You need to wear something designed to drive the women wild. If they’re so hot for your body, none of them are going to match the beat. How about no shirt and some tight bike pants?”

His ears were growing hot. “No way I’m parading around like that in front of a bunch of women.”

“You sound like a choir boy,” Clayton drawled. “Come on, T, where’s that badass attitude now?”

Dammit, he’d never been able to pass up a dare. “Fine.” He tore his shirt off. “Satisfied?”

The men whistled, and he had the urge to cross his arms over his chest.

“Cut it out,” he yelled.

“I think you have a
plan,” Rhett drawled.

Terrance rounded on his friend. “No way am I dancing without a shirt on in front of a bunch of women.”

“Afraid to start a stampede?” Mac joked.

“Shut it, Maven.”

Rye drew off his own shirt. “Okay, now you’re not alone, T. Show us the dance moves. We’ll practice with you. Clayton? You game?”

“Why not?” He shrugged and tossed his shirt aside, then ran his hands over his chest in a flirty pantomime. “Who wants me?”

The other guys started to laugh, and even Terrance felt his mouth twitch. “You’re all nuts.”

Rhett rose to his feet and set his beer aside. Moving his arms and hips like he was a human choo-choo train, he strolled toward Terrance and scared the crap out of him by lifting his shirt up inch by inch. “Come on, now, you know you want to see it.”

The playful shove he gave his friend only made everyone laugh harder. Soon they were all snorting and holding their bellies.

“Mac Maven, it’s your turn to show us what you’ve got,” Rhett cat-called.

“No way in hell. And if you try and undress me, which only a crazy bastard like you would, I’ll have my wife arrest you for sexual harassment.”

Rhett clucked his tongue. “Since I know you mean that, consider yourself a bystander. J.P.?”

“My mama might lose her job at the church if word gets out that I participated. Consider me another bystander, but
please
…feel free to show Mac and me what y’all got.”

If they were on reality TV right now, their ratings would be through the roof. Here Terrance was, standing shirtless with one of country music’s biggest stars and two other men who were wearing only cowboy hats and tight jeans.

“He has the video Jill took of the class,” Rhett told everyone.

Dr. Evil could have been a spy. She’d used her smart phone to capture the routines so he could practice them in secret.

“Can’t you keep your mouth shut for once?” he fired back.

“Give it up, T,” Rye said. “I need to see what kind of moves we’re talking about here. Hand over your phone, or we’ll go digging for it.”

They would too. He held it out without a fight.

Mac rose and took it. “I’m going to call our audio expert for the hotel up here to hook the video up to the big screen TV. He’s discreet, although I can’t imagine what he’ll think when he walks in on this crowd of shirtless wonders.”

Never let anyone say Mac didn’t run a tight ship because five minutes later, Jerry had everything hooked up. Terrance almost felt bad for the guy. His eyes had nearly popped out of his head when he walked through the door.

When the video started to play, Terrance was reminded of the reason he was going to all this trouble.

Elizabeth.

She was so beautiful, laughing as she started to warm up the class with a sway here, a twist there. Her moves were so sensual his mouth went dry.

“Holy hell,” Clayton drawled. “She’s even more beautiful than I remembered.”

“Let’s keep it clean,” Rhett replied. “She’s like my sister.”

Rye stepped closer to the big screen. “She sure can move. Come on guys, let’s line up and nail this even though the music is going to give me a migraine.”

The Grammy-winning singer stumbled through the steps just like the rest of them. After seeing how much some of the men were struggling with the hip movements, Terrance felt better. He wasn’t the only one who sucked at Latin dancing.

After fifteen minutes, Rye paused the video and turned to look at the other men. “T, you’re going to need help. No way you can learn to move like that in a few days. If we all go with you, the focus won’t all be on you. You’re right. You don’t want to look like an ass in front of your woman.”

“Go with him?” Clayton drawled. “We’re leaving on Monday, Rye.”

“We can leave after the class.” He nudged Terrance with an elbow. “Our friend here needs some wingmen. Who’s with me?”

Clayton groaned. “I guess. Rhett?”

“Is my name Butler?”

“Yessah. Now we really need to learn these moves,” Rye said. “Maybe I can use some of these steps in my upcoming tour, but dear sweet baby Jesus, who picked the music? I love Shania Twain, but this is like party music for a rabid women’s group.”

“Apparently Elizabeth created a bunch of new routines just in case I decided to show.” Devious little hellion that she was.

“She’s got sass,” Rye said. “My fiancée has the same quality.”

“Tory would do something like that too,” Rhett mused.

“That’s why I’m marrying her.” He grinned like the lovesick fool he was. “Now call your teacher and see if she can come in for a lesson today. We’re going to need her help.”

Unleash Dr. Evil on four shirtless men? He might as well call in a hurricane. Or a missile strike.

“Not a good—”

“I’ll call her,” Mac said, interrupting him. “I have her on speed dial.”

Was that glee in Maven’s voice?

“She’s the mother of baby twins,” Terrance protested, desperately wanting to put a shirt on now. Dr. Evil was going to have a field day with them.

“Hi, Jill,” Mac said and headed out of the room.

Uh-oh. What in the world was his friend saying to her?

Thirty minutes later, a knock sounded on the door to the suite. When Rye opened it shirtless and stepped aside, he had his answer.

Dr. Evil had brought friends. Mac’s wife and Rhett’s, Natalie Hale and her sisters, and Meredith Hale. Now there were more than half a dozen witnesses to his disgrace.

His evil dance instructor picked a few kernels of popcorn from the bag in her hand and popped them in her mouth. “We heard there was a show.”

Leave it to Jill to bring her own popcorn. He wasn’t even going to ask where she’d gotten it.

“Come on in, ladies,” Rye said grandly, bowing at the waist. He made introductions all around, even though some of the men and women were well acquainted, as in
married.

The ladies hustled in, some blushing, some drooling, and only one keeping a straight face. That would be Peggy, Dare’s deputy sheriff.

“Thinking about quitting your day job to start stripping, Chef T?” she asked, and even he saw her mouth twitch. “That’s illegal in this state. I’ll have to bust you. Just a warning.”

“He’s going to need
a lot
more practice if he’s going to make a living on tips,” Dr. Evil commented.

“That’s pretty low,” Natalie said to her cousin. “Are you as bad as she thinks, Terrance?”

Great. Now the women were going to judge him. “Maybe we can order up some score cards like the ones you used at the tasting.”

“We were all at lunch when Mac called,” Natalie told him. “Girl chat. Then we got a better offer to come watch all you studs.”

Her sisters nodded, and he knew what it felt like to be a piece of meat.

“Okay, boy wonders,” Dr. Evil said, walking to the head of the room like the dictator she was. “I see you’ve been watching the video of Elizabeth’s class. I’ll rewind a bit, and you can show me what you’ve learned so far.”

Their backs were to the other women—except for when they had to do those embarrassing turns where they slapped their butts like they were riding ponies—and Terrance could tell most of the women were fighting the urge to laugh. Well, except for Abbie, Rhett’s wife, who was blushing, sweet lady that she was.

Dr. Evil could learn a thing or two from her.

When she stopped the video, Dr. Evil put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. “Crenshaw, you have moves, but your salsa needs work. Chandler, your hips have the thrust move down pat, but you need to circle them more. Butler, you look like a chicken trying to stoop when you throw your hands out.”

The men groaned. Yeah, they’d laughed at him before, but now they understood her nickname.

Terrance held his breath when she finally stared him down. “Waters. You’re looking a lot better. You must have watched
Dirty Dancing.
Keep up the good work.”

And with that, she turned the video back on and dragged her sister to the front. Meredith’s pregnant body moved a heck of a lot better than Terrance would have thought, given the basketball she was carrying in front.

His Chippendale brothers in crime glanced over with a snort and mouthed,
Dirty Dancing?

Dr. Evil needed a new name. Something worse…much worse.

Abbie and Peggy sat with Mac and John Parker as Dr. Evil continued to walk them through the new steps.

When Natalie and her sisters got their fill of gawking, they joined them in the routine. Natalie bumped Terrance with her hip. “I used to be a big fan, but now I think I’m an admirer. I’ve never seen any man do something this romantic.”

He grimaced. “She may still turn me down.”

His new friend only shook her head. “Not a chance. And by the way, I’m going to stay at my mom’s house on Monday night. Wild horses couldn’t keep me away from this class. I have a feeling my sisters will do the same.”

At the rate they were going, they should sell tickets.

Chapter 15

Jane was coming to Elizabeth’s Monday night class. Latin dancing wasn’t her favorite workout, but she’d agreed to make an exception in case Terrance made good on his word.

One of the women leaving the previous class opened the door to the studio, but Jane stopped Elizabeth from going in by tugging on her arm.

“Isn’t that Rhett’s SUV?”

Elizabeth looked up the street, and sure enough, she spotted his car. The doors swung open, and her gasp rang out in tandem with Jane’s.

Rhett, Rye, Clayton, and Terrance got out of the car and swaggered down the block. In workout gear no less.

Chef T had brought an entourage. And holy hell. Her boss notwithstanding, the group was every woman’s fantasy come true. A bunch of red-blooded all-American alpha males.

Clayton even had on his black cowboy hat.

Why were Rye and Clayton still in town? They were supposed to have left yesterday after the bachelor party.

“Ladies,” Rye drawled when they reached them. “We’ve come for your class, Vix…I mean Elizabeth. Jane, good to see you.”

All of the men grinned, except for Terrance, who looked like he was still considering bolting.

“Congratulations on the engagement, Jane,” Clayton drawled. “Rhett’s been catching us up on all of your recent exploits. The both of you.”

“Thanks,” Jane responded and kissed each man on the cheek. “Are you dropping Terrance off for class?”

Like a mommy and daddy for a kid’s first day of kindergarten, Elizabeth almost said but didn’t.

Rhett puffed out his chest. “Nope. We’re
all
taking your class today.”

And when he fished into his lightweight workout jacket and pressed an envelope of cash into her hands, she could only stand there and pretty much blink, like an alien ship was hovering overhead.

“You’re all taking the class?” she squeaked.

Terrance just nodded as Rhett slung an arm around her shoulder, shaking her out of her reverie.

“It’s going to be fun,” Rye drawled.

“It
sure
is,” Jane breathed out and started laughing. “I’ll have to hang with you guys. It’s my first class too, and I don’t know the steps.”

“Great,” Clayton said, hooking his arm through Jane’s. “Come on, bubbas. We need to carve out a space for ourselves among the female folk.”

Rye held the door for everyone, but when Elizabeth and Terrance didn’t budge, he winked at them and made his way inside, leaving them alone.

“Are you auditioning for a new TV show called The Dancing Chef?” she teased.

His growl would have scared little children. “Just don’t back out on your end of the bargain.”

He yanked the door open, let her enter, and then followed her inside.

When she scanned the space, more surprises awaited her. Jill was already inside with an expanded posse of ladies, all of whom were talking to the guys.

But what made her smell a rat was the presence of Peggy—she
never
came to class—and Matt Hale’s sisters, who should have left for Denver yesterday like they usually did when they came to town for the weekend.

She took off her jacket with renewed determination. Someone had sung like a canary.

Her money was on Rhett. Terrance had probably told him, and God love him, the man couldn’t keep a secret unless he was at the poker table.

Other students strolled in and gasped when they spotted the four gorgeous additions to the class.

Time to take control, she decided, and fired up her new music—what she called an all-girl special—and clapped her hands. Terrance was going to earn every minute of their date.

“Let’s get started,” she said and turned to face the mirror to begin the warm up. This was going to be fun. She couldn’t wait to see these four gorgeous men struggle to keep up.

Then, as if choreographed, all the guys in class—except for poor Mr. Larkin, of course—took off their T-shirts and flung them to the right. All they had on were tight bicycle pants showing every curve of their tight asses and…well, how substantial they were in other areas.