“The monastery?”
Kacey snorted. “Probably. At any rate, we can invite some single girls to the wedding, ones that would really click with him.”
“A wager.” Travis nodded. “Between us and Grandma. We win, she pays for the honeymoon. She wins…”
“She can sing at the wedding,” Kacey sighed.
“No!” Travis touched his forehead to hers. “I’m not that insane. I’d rather buy her a boat or pay for her stripper workouts every week.”
“It’s what she wants.”
“She also wants to buy a tiger like Mike Tyson. Just because she wants something doesn’t mean we have to indulge her.”
“Travis.” Kacey kissed his lips softly. “There’s nothing to worry about; it’s not like she’ll win.”
Grunting, Travis kissed her head. “Fine, but if Grandma does win and she ends up with a microphone, it’s on you. Now, let’s finish our last mile so I can have my way with you in the shower.”
“Gotta catch me first!” Kacey yelled as she breezed past him.
Chapter Ten
“You’ve got to be shitting me.” Jake stared at the building with a mixture of horror and confusion. “We have to have the wrong address.”
Char snatched the piece of paper from his hands. “Let me look.”
“I can read, you know.”
Rolling her eyes, she scanned the paper. “Unbelievable.”
“What?” He leaned over her shoulder to look at the address. Her scent pulled at him, making his insides tense.
“That you can read.”
“Very funny.”
“It’s the right address.” Char slapped the paper against his chest and walked up to the dark door. “I guess we just… go in?”
“Hell, no.” Jake crossed his arms. “Not gonna happen.”
“The list says that Madame is expecting us at one! We’re going to be late if we don’t go in.”
Jake licked his lips and looked at the building again. The windows were filled with pictures of women laughing and throwing confetti into the air while men danced with them. It was like a very bad tampon commercial gone wrong.
“No. And who the hell is Madame anyways?”
Char rolled her eyes. “It’s her name. Why, you scared you’re gonna grow a pair of boobs? You afraid your balls are gonna disappear?”
Jake snorted. “Fine, let’s go.” Irritated, he grabbed her arm with his left hand and pushed open the door with his right.
The room was blanketed in black.
“See, wrong address.” Jake released Char’s arm and pulled out his cell just as music began to fill the room. Then a few stage lights popped on, causing Jake to go blind momentarily. “What the hell?”
And then the singing began.
Char tensed beside him. More lights flickered on, although Jake had no idea where they’d come from; he was still seeing spots from the first ones. He tried to take a step to the side and ran into a table. Placing his hands on the table he looked down.
Pictures of shirtless Chippendale men greeted him.
He jerked back and bumped into something hard. He turned around to steady whatever he’d bumped into.
A nak*d statue.
Of a dude.
Where the hell was he supposed to touch? He reached out to grab the waist of the statue since it had conveniently been set on a table so that he was eye level with the nak*dness, and was bumped by Char, who apparently had been fighting her own battle with a swarm of balloons in the shape of, er… parts.
“Holy crap.” Char grabbed Jake’s hand. “We have to make a run for it.”
“It’s like hell, only worse.” Jake agreed grabbing her arm.
“Welcome, welcome!” Came a voice over a loudspeaker.
“Holy shit, we’re officially in the Hunger Games.” Jake grabbed Char and put her behind him. “Just let me die first. Please God, let me die first.”
“I’ve been expecting you!” the female voice happily announced.
“Somehow that doesn’t make me feel better,” Char whispered from behind Jake. “Oh, and by the way, it’s only romantic to sacrifice yourself for me if death isn’t the better option, twinkle toes!”
Jake paused. “You swore you’d take that to your grave!”
“Oops?” Char shrugged. “How many years were you in ballet? One, two?”
“Oops, my ass!” Why the hell would she bring up that old nickname? Now of all times? Had she any idea how emasculating it was?
“Just stay still—”
“I can both hear and see you,” the voice said. “And I don’t have all day. Now, let me examine you.”
“We’ve officially skipped Hunger Games and jumped into Saw.” Jake shook his head and yelled at the voice. “Can you at least turn out the lights? We can’t see you.”
“That, my dear,” the voice laughed, “is the point, is it not?”
“Er, not?” Char gave a hollow laugh.
“I do not have all day!” the voice yelled. “Now, separate. I need to see what I have to work with.”
Char slowly stepped out from behind Jake and stood, head held high. Jake had to admire that. Any other girl would have run out of the room. Shit, he was a guy and he was going to have nightmares.
“Not bad,” the voice said coolly. “Not bad at all.”
“Thanks.” Char grinned.
Jake rolled his eyes. “She’s only complimenting you so you’re all fat and happy before she kills you.”
“Sharp-tongued, that one,” the voice announced. “But you’ll do. Oh Jake, you’ll do just fine. Tell me, how comfortable are you with the stage?”
“Not comfortable.” Jake coughed. “Not at all, you see. I have this bad knee and—”
“His knee’s fine!” Char interjected with a wink.
He lunged for her just as the lights flickered off and the room returned to a normal state.
In the normal light, it wasn’t so daunting. It looked like a dance studio mixed with a really weird party shop.
“Hello!” A woman appeared from a balcony above them. “Sorry to put you on the spot like that, but your dear old grandma said you kids needed a good laugh.”
“Ha ha.” Jake was going to strangle his grandmother.
“Anyway, I assume you’ve been given instructions about the dance you’ll be performing?”
“Dance?” Jake asked.
“Performing?” Char echoed.
“But of course! I am Madame, the best dance instructor in the city.”
Yeah, Jake highly doubted that. The woman was at least his grandmother’s age and was at that point walking so slowly down the stairs that he was pretty sure she was actually aging before his eyes.
“Um, I think perhaps my grandmother was confused.” Jake’s eyes were glued to the woman’s shaky legs as she slowly descended. Good Lord, her heels were at least six inches and her skirt… It covered nothing. To be fair, the woman’s legs were quite fit. He tilted his head to gain a better view.
“I think it’s Jake who’s confused.” Char nudged him. “Either that or he’s under a spell in the form of a pair of long legs.”
Madame grinned as she settled on the last stair. “Happens all the time. What can I say? I’m a treat for the eyes.” She thrust her chest out and winked at Jake.
“I want to go home,” Jake whispered as he reached for Char’s hand.
Char jerked her hand away and approached Madame. “Like Jake said, I think Grandma was confused. You see, we have a list of things we have to get done before the wedding. This was the next appointment. So do we need to pick something up or—”
“Silence!” Madame shouted. “I will not have your back talk. Grandma said you will perform the dance, so dance!”
“Dance?” Jake croaked.
“Dance!” Madame twirled in front of them and snapped her fingers above her head. “I shall teach you the dance of love. You’ll perform it at the wedding ceremony. Now, this specific dance is that of a mating ritual.”
“Aw, shit.” Jake took a few deep breaths. “There will be no mating on the dance floor.”
Madame laughed. “But of course not! You’ll be dancing! It is a ritual, not the act, you naughty boy.” With a wink she lifted her hand and tilted Jake’s chin toward her. “My, but you’re pretty.”
Jake was going to kill his grandmother. But he was too traumatized, too shocked to do anything except stare back into the Cougar’s eyes and pray she didn’t tie him up somewhere and put him in a cage.
Madame growled and released his chin. “Now, places in the middle of the floor. Remember, this dance is what brings good luck to the marriage. Mess it up and the future of your brother’s happiness weighs on you.”
“No pressure,” Char interjected.
Madame pressed a button and suddenly the lights lowered again. Soft music resembling a type of tango began to play in the background.
“Middle of the floor,” Madame instructed.
Jake went to the middle of the floor and held out his hand to Char. “Come on, the sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can leave and get alcohol poisoning.”
Char’s eyes darted between his hand and his face before she begrudgingly took his hand and stepped into the frame of his body. “Fine, but keep your wandering hands to yourself.”
“Please,” Jake snorted. “Like your body is any sort of temptation for a man of my tastes.”
Char smiled sweetly. “I forgot—you like fake… my mistake.”
“I—”
“Now!” Madame clapped. “close your eyes. I shall walk you through the dance, but you must trust me, you must trust one another.”
* * *
Char’s hands were perspiring. That one word, trust. It immediately thrust her back into junior high. When she and Jake had been doing the trust fall—when he promised he’d catch her—and he’d failed.
When she was called fat.
And he refused to defend her.
Char’s mom had always told her that she’d laugh about it someday, that the things that happen to you in junior high don’t hold any power over your life in adulthood. But she was wrong… When you’re hurt at such a vulnerable age it’s impossible to forget the hurt. Especially if that one hurt launched you into a two-year issue with bulimia and diet pills.
So, trust? No, she didn’t trust Jake Titus, because the last two times she had. He’d walked away from her.
“Trust,” Madame repeated. “And follow my hands.” Char felt a hand on her shoulder and then she was pushed forward into Jake’s arms. His breath hitched as her cheek came into contact with his firm chest.
“Now, Jake, step back,” Madame instructed. “And do the—Oh my, you do know how to dance, don’t you?”
Char opened her eyes just as Jake pushed her away and twirled her, then pulled her back into his frame, tipping her over his leg in a dip.