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fifteen-hundred-dollar boots. “Easy to say if you have it.”
    He throws me a serious look. “You’d be surprised if I told you the extent of my connection to this club and the bar business in general. Just because I’m an engineer doesn’t mean I’m not the average guy.”
    “I’m listening . . .” I fold my arms over my chest. I’m ready to hear his explanation, how a rich, privileged guy like Garrick thinks he’s anything like me. I believe the only possible connection he has to strip clubs is as a regular customer.
    “If you’re a good girl,” he teases, “someday I’ll tell you my secret. For now, let’s focus on you. Are you in school?”
    “I’m a sophomore at A&M.”
    “Major?”
    “History and archeology.”
    “Ambitious little thing, aren’t you?” he asks teasingly. “Education is everything. I’m wholly impressed.”
    I feel heat rising in my cheeks. Why do I get so worked up whenever he says something personal? “I don’t do anything half-ass.”
    “Neither do I.”
    Our glances lock. I fumble for an intelligent response. This guy is out of reach . . . he’s Ivy League. What’s he doing here, with me? No matter how many times I try to come up with a plausible explanation, it doesn’t manifest. Maybe I’m overanalyzing. Maybe he likes my company. I already know he thinks I’m hot. I grin and turn away.
    “If you’re wondering why I’m here . . .” he starts.
    Am I that predictable? Or did this guy just read my mind?
    “I want you to dance for me,” he finishes.
    Her smile fades slightly as she looks at me again. She’s fiercely arousing, wedged between confidence and fear. I’ve gotten under her skin, too. Good. I’d be crushed if I were losing my touch. She’s been on my mind since the beach. “Dance for me,” I repeat gently. I won’t take no for an answer.
    “Wait for the next song.”
    I nod, pleased.
    Two minutes later, “Crash Into Me” by the Dave Matthews Band starts. She stands, then rounds the table. I slide my chair out. She positions herself between my legs, facing away from me. Her hips move in unison with the song, a marriage of sound and motion. I sink further into the padded chair. My cock throbs. She faces me. Those big blue eyes are dangerous. She slowly slides her dress down, revealing both breasts. Her nipples are pebble hard. She tugs her costume over her hips and it falls free around her ankles. Stepping out of it, she slides it aside with the tip of her shoe. Her stomach is flat and hard, and a tiny diamond stud sparkles from her belly button. I like piercings. Flipping around, she bends over and sticks her tight little ass in the air. It wiggles teasingly only inches from my crotch. I want her to sit in my lap. It’s the most enticing thing I’ve ever seen. Goddamnit, I want her.
    “Robyn . . .”
    She faces me again. There’s something different about her eyes. She thumbs the elastic straps on her G-string and languidly removes it. One sweet leg at a time. She’s nearly shaven clean. A thin strip of black curls covers her privates. I can see the shape of her lips. She’s small—tight. It’s all I can do to keep my hands off her. She leans in, and her dusky nipples brush the tip of my nose. I close my eyes and remind myself to breathe. When I open them again, she’s bending over, her round ass bobbing up and down. Fuck!
    Again, she turns around. This time she places her hands on my shoulders and dips closer and closer. Until I lock my arms around her waist.
    “Is this your typical table dance?” I hope not.
    She shakes her head and starts to back away, but I won’t let her go.
    “Please, answer me.” Jealousy floods my heart.
    “No,” she says. “It’s not. What the hell do you think I am?” I get the you stupid asshole look.
    I release her and she swoops down to retrieve her dress.
    “I’m sorry.” I reach for her hand.
    “Don’t be,” she says. “Meet me outside in an hour.”
    With that, she storms out of the