The Sextet - Dirty Dancing [The Sextet Anthology, Volume 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (17 page)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

A native of Louisville, Kentucky, Cheryl Brooks is a critical care nurse by night and a romance writer by day. Utilizing her rich fantasy life and a knack for unobtrusive boy watching, she is currently branching out from paranormal romance into erotic novellas, both contemporary and paranormal, with her Sextet sisters, and loving it! A lifelong lover of horses and animals in general, she lives with her husband, two sons, two horses, four cats, and one dog in rural Indiana. She enjoys cooking, gardening, and has played guitar since the age of ten. A member of the RWA and INRWA, her previously published works include The Cat Star Chronicles series:
Slave,
Warrior, Rogue, Outcast, Fugitive, Hero, and V
irgin.
Book eight,
Stud,
will be released in February 2012.

Also by The Sextet

The Sextet Anthology, Volume 1:
Sharing

Available at

BOOKSTRAND.COM

DEDICATION

To my daughter—Dance your heart out!

Chapter 1

“Ms. Donahue, Reese Hilliard is on line two. He and Brand have a conflict this afternoon. He’s hoping you can meet with them after your class tonight.”

Julayne looked up from the mound of paperwork on her desk to her secretary standing in the doorway. Her tummy dipped at the mention of Reese and Brand, her favorite clients for more than one reason. Dark hero and white knight. The ultimate fantasy. “Sure. Ask if they can stop by the studio about seven. Tell Reese to bring wine and chocolate. I’m having a rough day.”

Rough day. What an understatement.

“Yes, ma’am.” Edwin gave a nod as he turned away from the door.

Ma’am, schma’am.
She was twenty-nine, not a hundred and twenty-nine. Edwin had more than doubled her age on
his
last birthday, and she didn’t need a reminder she was another year older, but clearly not any wiser in regards to men if her wayward thoughts of the Hilliard brothers were any indication.

The phone rang, making her jump. Several seconds later, the intercom buzzed.

She pressed the speaker button. “Yes, Edwin?”

“Merilee Hilliard is on line one. She wonders if you have a minute to talk to her.”

Glancing at the potted plant on her desk, Julayne grinned. “Sure.” She pressed the speaker button again then tapped the flashing button for line two. “Mrs. Hilliard, how are you?”

“Fantastic, honey! I just called to make sure you got the birthday gift I had delivered this morning.”

“I did, thank you.” Julayne brushed her fingertip along one hot hot-pink bloom. “It’s gorgeous.”

“Glad you like it. Are seeing my boys today?”

Boys? Ha!
Reese and Brand were as manly as any men Julayne had ever met—more so than most of her ex-boyfriends, especially the last one she’d dated before leaving the big city.
Westin Gates.
He was so refined that he made her look like a slob. “We have a meeting later.”

“Terrific! Well, I’d better let you get back to work. Have a great birthday, Laynie.”

“Thanks, Mrs. H. Talk to you soon.” Jualyne hung up with a smile on her face. Merilee had that effect on people.

Returning to the pile of timecards from Moose’s Towing and Service, she tried to decipher the handwriting. A two or an eight? Doug Short or Pig Snout? No wonder she and Moose had mutually agreed to friendship after one date. Her neatness gene had run screaming from his…scruffy-face, motor-oil-stained-fingernails, and illegible-handwriting genes within days of opening her own accounting office in her new hometown eight months ago. At least they’d remained casual friends.

She picked up her phone, punching in the number for the garage. “Hi, Moose. This is Julayne. I can’t read your timecards for payroll again. Yes, I know the guys expect to get their paychecks tomorrow morning. How about if you text me the hours? You still have your paper copies, don’t you? Okay. You say you can read your writing. I can’t. Text first and last names then hours. If you can’t afford a secretary, you’re going to have to give me the information through texts or emails. Your choice.” Emails. Right. The man could rebuild the engine of a 1973 Pontiac, but he couldn’t figure out how to turn on a computer to save his life. “Okay, good.” Maybe this time he’d remember when next week rolled around. “I’ll drop off your payroll on my way to Penny’s.”

Setting aside Moose’s file, she moved on to Csizmadia’s Bakery. An easy account. Their employees consisted of the older couple’s grandson. Actually, most of her clients had only a handful of workers. Filtering through the stack, she finished all twelve accounts while waiting for the last of the mechanic’s texts. Finally, numbers she could read without straining her eyes and her brain. Done with lucky number thirteen.

4:15 p.m. She placed the bundle of payroll envelopes in her portfolio as she walked to the outer office. “Edwin, I’m off to play Santa. Will you lock up for me? I’m headed to Penny’s after my deliveries. My class starts tonight.”

“Of course, Ms. Donahue.” From behind his L-shaped work center, her secretary frowned. “You’re not planning to skip dinner again, are you?”

Julayne refrained from rolling her eyes. The man would make an excellent nagging mother. But then his
partner
would be most displeased to find himself living with a woman. “I’ll pick up a salad and some pasta when I stop at the pizza place.”

“Very well. Have a pleasant evening.”

“You too, Edwin.” She hurried out the door before he decided she needed an escort during her walk through town.

Setting off at a brisk pace, she followed the sidewalk to the end of the block and turned right to cross the street. First stop, Mrs. Langford’s gift shop. She pulled her phone from her pocket to set the alarm. Without it, the blue-haired lady would talk until the sun set. Ten minutes, a respectful allowance for the sweet woman who treated no one like a stranger.

The bell over the door rang as she entered.

A disembodied voice carried from the back of the store. “I’ll be right there!”

“Take your time, Trisha.” She set the payroll envelope on the counter and turned to browse the handmade cards by the register.

“Julayne!” Mrs. Langford hurried past the display case of collectible dolls to engulf her in a hug. “So good to see you, dear. I swear you get prettier every day. Are you sure you don’t want me to introduce you to my grandson the doctor? He’s a handsome young man. You two would make adorable children together.”

The grandson again.
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Sorry, but I’m not interested in living in the city anymore. I love the quiet and knowing my neighbors and breathing clean air. Are you and Mr. Langford still going to Cincinnati next month?”

“Oh, yes. We haven’t missed an opening day in eighteen years. You know, Reginald proposed to me at a baseball game. On our fourth date, he caught a foul ball and gave it to me. Said he hoped to get past first base when he took me home.” The old woman winked and grinned.

“Oh, he was a sly devil, wasn’t he?”

“He still is.”

Julayne tried not to imagine what the couple’s sex life must be like now. Seventy-five and horny?
Why can’t I be twenty-nine, horny, and getting some?

Ding, ding, ding.

Taking a step toward the door, she glanced at the clock on the wall. “Oops. I have an appointment in a few minutes. I enjoyed talking with you, Trisha. See you soon.”

“Always a pleasure, dear.” Mrs. Langford gave a little wave.

Julayne adjusted her scarf against the cold as she headed to her next client’s business.
Darn groundhog. You just had to see your shadow, didn’t you?

5:15 p.m. She’d delivered eight of her thirteen envelopes, including Moose’s now-legible payroll, and hiked more than a mile. Her muscles were warm, despite the nippy March weather. Almost ready for dance class. As she headed toward campus, the sun disappeared behind a bank of gray clouds. More snow? Hopefully she’d beat the predicted blowing and drifting to the Pilates studio. The wind gusted, burning her cheeks with icy chill. She shivered and quickened her pace.

Next stop, Donatella’s Pizza. She dropped off the payroll envelope in the office and ordered a salad to go. Not a chance in hell she’d eat pasta for dinner. She wouldn’t get off the ground in class with all those carbs in her belly. Now, the mile trek to the hardware store, the coffee shop, the boutique, and Rings-n-Roses Bridal.

Lights still shown in the windows at her last delivery, so she went inside rather than sliding the packet through the mail slot. Her fingers appreciated a couple minutes of warmth. Exiting the bridal shop, she crossed the parking lot to the studio.

Penny grinned at Julayne as she stomped her boots on the rug. “You’re going to have a full house tonight. Four new recruits from my five o’clock class.”

“They realize what kind of class this is, don’t they?” She unbuttoned her coat.

“Are you kidding? When I told them, they jumped at the chance. Allison from next door is one of them.”

Well, that certainly explained the interest. The owner of Rings-n-Roses was by far the most outspoken, extroverted woman on the planet. “Is she bringing her own pole?”

Shrugging into her coat, Penny laughed and walked to the door. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she did. Be careful walking home tonight. Or better yet, have someone give you a ride.”

Whisking the scarf from around her neck, Julayne shook her hair loose. “I’m meeting a client at seven. Maybe I can bum a ride. See you next week.”

“Goodnight. Have fun.” Snowflakes blew in and melted on the carpeted entry as Penny left.

Seven weeks had passed since Punxsutawney Phil had seen his shadow. March had come in like a lion and was changing into a grizzly bear. Turning the lock on the door, Julayne aimed for the locker room. Time for a quick change and a quicker warm-up.

* * * *

Grabbing the bag of Thai carryout, Reese climbed out of the truck. “Brand, I’m not freezing my ass off out here because we’re ten minutes early. Besides, I want to see what kind of class Laynie’s teaching.”

His brother grunted but followed. “This is a bad idea. You want to have a hard-on during the meeting from watching her bend like a damn pretzel? She’s flexible. Use your imagination. I’d rather not have my dick smashed against my zipper the rest of the night for her to see.”

Reese snorted. “We’ve had this discussion a hundred times. Sooner or later we have to tell her we’re both interested in her. Then she decides if she wants to date one of us. I’m tired of waiting. That’s why I called to change the meeting time. We’re doing this tonight.”

Holding open the door to the studio, Brand frowned. “What if she doesn’t want either of us? I like having her as a friend.”

Yeah, well, Reese liked having her as a friend too. He strode past his brother, following the music and voices down the hallway to the classroom and ignoring the question. The door stood open. Laynie hung upside down, spread-eagle in midair. “Holy shit on a stick.”

Brand’s whisper corrected him. “No, that’s Laynie hanging from a pole. You’re right about the holy shit though.”

She spun around, her legs swinging downward to grasp the metal between her thighs. “Fuck. Pole dancing. I’m never going to sleep again without wet dreams.”

“Jesus, Reese, I told you this was a bad idea.” They both groaned as she twisted and arched. “Damn, she’s sexy.”

The music stopped. Female voices called out questions. “Julayne, will you teach me that scorpion move? That has to be the perfect position for the ultimate G-spot orgasm.”

“What about the butterfly? My husband will go nuts for that one.”

“Do you give private lessons? I’m not sure I can do this in front of everybody.”

“I wonder if spinning like that hurts if you’re naked.”

“Hey, I want to do this in front of all the single guys in town and watch them pant! Or de-pant!” Wild laughter echoed through the room.

Women thought men had dirty minds? Reese shook his head. This group had raunchy down pat.

“Ladies, ladies. This is a beginner’s class. We’ll start with the basics. I’ll be glad to help anyone who wants some one-on-one instruction. Remember, I’ve been doing this for over a year. You have to develop lots of core strength and flexibility for some of the moves. Practice at home if you can. I’ll see everybody next week.”

Reese gave Brand a shove toward the lobby area as female giggles and singsong voices advanced on them. “Move, move,
move
. We can’t let her find us spying on her.”

He jogged down the hall to the front entrance, made a left turn, and ducked into the lounge.
Pole dancing.
His gorgeous accountant taught women to twirl around a metal pole to tease the men in their lives. And he’d pictured some tame yoga-contortionist crap.

Adjusting the fly of his jeans, he watched Brand do the same. They’d never been attracted to the same woman before Laynie. The minute they’d walked into her office six months ago, the struggle began. Maintain a professional relationship with her or cross the line to personal? Seeing her at the same moment negated the dibs rule. Brotherhood and friendship had played a major role in delaying his decision to push the issue. Having sex with someone else when he wanted
her
went against his better judgment. How long could he continue jacking off in the shower every morning? After her performance, he’d need to repeat the routine every night, too.