Tiny Dancer [Divine Creek Ranch 13] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (17 page)

“Okay.” Hank made notes of everything she said.

Quinten stroked her back. “Baby, while we’re here, let’s get a bag packed for you, if that’s okay?” He turned to Hank, who nodded and excused himself to address one of his deputies.

“Okay.” She followed him back to her bedroom and tucked the shoe box back on the upper shelf where it belonged then found a suitcase and began packing. She surreptitiously tucked all the extra things she would need for that night, wondering if Quinten would question the pair of stiletto patent boots she hid under a pair of jeans.

“What’s this?” Quinten asked, holding up a black latex dress she hadn’t worn since the last time she’d been clubbing with Brandon, the night he met—

“It’s a dress, silly.”

“Pack it. I want to see it on you.”

“No.”

She took it from him and dropped it in one of the drawers that was hanging open and kicked it shut with her foot then grabbed panties from the drawer above it. “I haven’t worn it in a while.”

“I’ll bet it would look good on you, but you don’t have to wear it for us if you don’t want to.” His tone implied that he hadn’t meant to push her.

“I’m just not interested in going there. Not anymore.” There were too many memories tied to that dress. She’d done enough mulling over the past in the last twenty-four hours. “I have something else planned that will make you even happier.”

“Okay.” Quinten picked several pairs of jeans up off the floor and began putting them back on their hangers, making himself useful but staying close by. She smiled at him as she put the clothing in her suitcase. “Thank you for helping me.”

“You’re welcome, baby. I’m sorry this happened. I think I hear Ben.”

A minute later, Ben poked his head in the doorway. “Hey, sugar. Your car is on its way to the dealership. I couldn’t get it started, so I called a tow truck driver. Everything under control here?”

Camilla kept packing as she replied, “About as much as can be expected.”

Hank walked up behind Ben and knocked on the doorframe. “We’re done here, Camilla. Sorry you have to deal with all of this.”

Ben thanked him and shook his hand. “We’ll help her get it straightened up.” Ben followed Hank out of the hallway as they kept speaking in quiet tones. It was only eight thirty and already she felt drained.

“Sleepy?”

Camilla sat down on a spot Quinten had cleared and looked up at him. “Why would somebody do this? I’ve wracked my brain. I don’t have any enemies or people in my life who would hold a grudge.”

“Hank will check on that guy you dated and see if anything pans out there.”

“There’s something really odd about all this that I can’t put my finger on.” Looking around, she finally rose from the bed. “It’s not getting put in order with me just sitting around, I guess.”

Once she had her suitcase packed, she went about putting the room back in order while Ben and Quinten did the same in the living room and kitchen. Midway through the morning, Ben ran to the hardware store for new locks that couldn’t be so easily jimmied to replace the old ones and then set about changing them out.

At lunchtime, Ben came into the bathroom and handed her the cell phone she’d left plugged into her charger the day before. One brow was arched as he said, “I found this under a pile on one of the counters.”

“Oh, thank you.”
Fat lot of good this little thing did me last night
. She felt like she was in trouble with every man in the neighboring vicinity for choosing to walk in the rain.

A long, soft sigh issued from Ben. “This is not at all how I envisioned our day off going.”

Camilla went into his arms and gave him a hug. “I think it started off pretty good, though.”

Just then her stomach yowled, and Ben groaned. “I’m such an asshole. I didn’t even feed you breakfast.”

“I wasn’t hungry at all earlier. I’m starving now, though.”

“Let’s go get some food in you and we’ll figure out what to do from there.”

There wasn’t much that could be done about the sofa and love seats, which were ruined, but the rest of the house was mostly put to rights by the time her stomach had really started growling.

Ben stood at the front door and said, “Hank talked to me about you staying with us for a few days, just in case, which makes sense, with that leak.” He pointed to the recently emptied bucket that was still catching the occasional drip from the ceiling. “More rain is in the forecast tonight.”

Camilla frowned. “I ought to be here to empty it, if it gets full.” Just then, Ben got that
look
on his face. Like he was about to go all dominant on her again. “All right, all right,
okay
.
Shit
. I’m going to lose my membership in the Liberated Women of the New Millennium Club.”

Quinten chuckled as he walked up and put down a second bucket beside the first so that the spout of the first bucket extended over the second bucket to catch the overflow. “If those big buckets overflow, that means you’ll be able to look out the window and see Noah and his ark float by, baby. Besides, this is a rental. There’s already damage which needs to be fixed. You’ve done what needs doing, so let’s blow this joint. I’m starving.”

On the way to Rudy’s, where they’d decided to have a late Sunday lunch, Camilla checked her e-mail on her phone.

“Uh, Ben?”

“Yeah, sugar?”

“I sent the money for the replacement on my tires to your PayPal account. Why did you reverse it? The money is back in my account now.”

Ben shrugged nonchalantly. “Think of it as a down payment.”

“Down payment for what?”

Ben thought for a minute, seeming to choose his words wisely. “I’m not trying to be bossy or take over your life or any of the other things you might think when I tell you what I’m going to tell you.” He almost seemed nervous.

“Huh?”

He let out a sigh and went ahead and said what was on his mind. “Consider it a reimbursement for any tips you miss out on for no longer wearing those risqué costumes to work. You were like a popsicle last night when we found you.”

She opened her mouth to defend her decision to walk last night as opposed to sitting in her car in a deluge without a phone for who knew how long. “I was—”

Quinten put his hand on her knee. “In the shower for nearly an
hour
last night, trying to get warm.”

An hour?
“I was?”

Ben nodded. “I should’ve insisted on you getting in the tub.”

“There you go again, being all bossy.”

“No, I wasn’t. I let
you
have
your
way when you insisted on taking a shower. I’m just making up for any tips you lose because…”

“Because what? Say it, Mr. Neanderthal.”

“Shit. Quinten, you got anything you want to pipe up and say?” Ben growled, eyeing Quinten on the other side of her.

Looking amused, Quinten replied, “No, I’m having a great time listening to the two of you snipe at each other while I fantasize about what part of Camilla’s anatomy I’m gonna nibble on first when we get home. You two go on about your business, bickering over how Ben and I aren’t allowing you to wear the costumes that are too revealing because you’re our woman now.”

Quinten had said it, but she still nailed Ben with a glare. “We’re back to that ‘claiming’ thing again, right?”

Ben nodded and smiled, his gaze far off as though he were also imagining nibbling on her pink girlie bits. That notion took the heat right out of her argument as she indulged in a little fantasy of her own.

“I already have a costume planned for the Halloween party, though. You’re not talking me out of it. As a matter of fact, you’re helping me out. Have you already picked out costumes?”

“Nope,” Ben said as he shook his head decisively. “We never dress up. You know that.” The look he gave her implied that the subject wasn’t open for discussion.

“You are this year.” Camilla gave them a big, wicked grin. “Don’t argue. Just give in.”

“No more risqué costumes?” Ben asked with an arched eyebrow.

“
After
Halloween, no more risqué costumes. If you’ll dress up with me.”

“All right, as long as it’s not ridiculous, like us going as Chippendale dancers.”

“
Hey
, that’s actually not a bad idea. But I already have your costumes picked out.”

Neither of them needed to know that she’d already decided to retire the revealing costumes. Between the cold wind blowing chilling rain on her frozen ass and the increased intimate activity of the night before and that morning, there was
definitely
chafing. When she combined that with the risk she’d taken walking on a lonely road in the middle of the night, she’d determined that it was not worth it, any way she looked at it. She didn’t want to chance freezing her ass off like that
ever
again.

* * * *

Later that evening, Quinten shrugged in answer to the question Ben had asked three times. “All I know is she wanted us to put this CD in the player, move the furniture over to the wall, get the rug out of the way, and light candles.”

Camilla had needed his assistance to orchestrate things just the way she wanted them, and he’d been more than willing to help her. He was happy to see her attention fixed on something besides the break-in. Quinten knew better than to push her buttons, especially since they had her in their home.

Pick your battles, son
. That’s what his dad had always told him.

She’d borrowed Quinten’s MP3 player and closed herself up in the bedroom for a couple of hours during the afternoon and asked to not be disturbed. She’d been in a good mood and rosy-cheeked when she’d joined them for supper in the kitchen and then had disappeared into the bedroom again closer to bedtime. While they’d moved the living room furniture around and set everything up the way she’d asked, they’d heard the tub in the master bathroom filling up.

Quinten lit the last of the candles, dimmed most of the lights, and then sent her the text message letting her know everything was ready. Quinten pointed to the two straight-back chairs set up to face the large expanse of floor they’d cleared for her. They took their seats and turned their attention to the hallway when they heard the master bedroom door open. That was his cue to hit the Play button on the stereo remote control.

A heavy exotic beat began to play, and Quinten’s horny inner devil rubbed his hands together in glee. Ben frowned at him because it wasn’t a musical group he was familiar with, but Quinten immediately recognized the song “Buttons” by The Pussycat Dolls.

“Fucking perfect, baby,” he whispered as the scent of jasmine and vanilla wafted in the air from the candles in the living room and from the bedroom, where she must’ve also lit candles. This wasn’t the first time he’d ever experienced a striptease but already it was the best one
ever
.

She strutted into the room eyeing them hungrily, exuding sexy confidence and owning him body, heart, and soul. She was clad in a black corset, spandex miniskirt, thigh-high black patent boots that he’d pretended to not see her pack in her suitcase earlier, black satin gloves, garter belt, and black fishnet stockings. Her beautiful strawberry-blonde ringlets were straightened, flowing down her back and over her shoulders. Her lips were dark red, and her eyes were lined, accentuating their shape and giving her a mysterious look.

If pressed, Quinten would admit to fantasies about Camilla’s days as Cami, the exotic dancer. He’d heard from friends that she was extraordinarily talented, but all their opinions paled next to the reality as she closed the distance between them.

This was a side of Camilla he’d never seen before, and he liked it a lot. He glanced at Ben and nearly bust a gut as Ben’s jaw fell open. The temptress gave Ben a seductive smile as she put her hands on his shoulders and shimmied her breasts inches from his face, tugged at his hair, then smoothly moved to Quinten and gave him similar attention.

Quinten leaned over to Ben as Camilla took the floor like she owned it. He reached out and closed Ben’s jaw. When he had Ben’s attention, he said, “There was one other thing she told me, dude. We don’t have to sit on our hands.”

The music was loud, but Quinten saw it when Ben gulped and then his words finally registered. She stripped, layer after seductive layer, turning her back and shimmying her ass for them, showing off her dancing abilities, until she was clad only in the boots, the stockings, a black lacy thing she wore under the corset, and her black G-string.

Halfway through the song, she shimmied down into Ben’s lap with her back to his front and ground on him, put his hands on her inner thighs and guided them to spread her thighs wide, slid his hands to her center, and then just as quickly danced out of his reach. Ben’s eyes were glued to her every move.

She perched on Quinten’s lap and smiled at him as she ground deliciously on his bone-hard erection, lingering to rub teasingly with her ass a couple of times. He was prepared when she lifted his hands and ran them up her torso so that he cupped her breasts.