Watching from the back of The Naked Truth, wearing a “disguise” of drab business suit, glasses, and slicked-back hair, Ry gaped at the sight of Hayley’s breasts. No artificial melons these, they were full, round, lush, sensual, and he’d bet 100% genuine.

He wanted to touch them. To feel that incredible combination of firmness and softness.

Damn, was this really the agency’s buttoned-up administrative assistant? God, she was hot.

She swayed to the music as if she was in a cocoon of pure sexuality. Those long, graceful fingers, tonight tipped in red, threaded through her hair, pulling it back from her face and letting it fall again. Then her hands drifted down her body to caress her breasts with aching slowness.

Touching herself, like in the song. Who was she thinking of? Was she getting off on the audience’s lust, or dreaming of a lover?

Talk about aching, his own hands ached with the need to touch her smooth skin, tweak her pebbled nipples, make her gasp with pleasure.

He pulled on the knot of his tie, loosening it so he could breathe.

Did she have a lover?

Evelyn had hired her months ago, yet he knew nothing about her except that all their files—paper and electronic—were in perfect order, and the assignments he gave her were handled quickly and efficiently.

Not exactly sexy stuff. But what she was doing on stage sure as hell was. Ry wished he was closer and could see better, but if she recognized him it might throw her out of her performance.

She and the female PIs had kept quiet about her audition, but the Mortimer case was Ry’s and he took his responsibilities seriously. Research had told him the most likely way Hayley could get a contract to dance at The Naked Truth was by winning a Sunday night audition.

He’d tried to tell himself it was a sense of duty that had brought him here tonight. But yeah, he’d been intrigued by the reserved admin assistant’s offer to dance.

Being a PI, and before that a cop, it took a lot to surprise him. But when Hayley—aka Penny Catalina—had taken the stage, all he’d been able to think was, “Oh, fuck, is she ever hot!”

His cock had sprung to attention, and now his hard-on was as firm as that pole she’d been gyrating around. If he released it from his pants, it’d lift the fucking table.

As he stared hungrily at her, her hands slid down to hook in the sides of her thong. This time she didn’t tease her audience, she skimmed it off in one quick movement, like she couldn’t wait to get naked.

Naked, but for those fuck-me shoes.

Her smooth body was decorated by brown curls of pubic hair that were…He squinted. Holy shit. They were trimmed into an arrow shape that pointed the way to her sex.

He’d never seen anything so provocative. The woman was stunning. The sexiest sight he’d ever laid eyes on.

She took a white towel and spread it, then went down on her hands and knees. Back arched, movements fluid and sinuous, she crawled toward the edge of the stage and the guys in the front row howled approval.

Ry tried to whistle, but his mouth was too dry. One hand fumbled for his beer glass but didn’t find it, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to look away from the stage where Hayley’s breasts hung down, full and tantalizing, in front of a row of drooling men.

When he’d agreed she could try out as an exotic dancer, he’d figured she would bail out and confess defeat. But, niggling away in his mind and keeping his cock semiturgid, had been the recollection of the way Hayley had moved to the strippers’ music, and the gleam of arousal in her eyes when their gazes had collided.

Tantalizing hints that the woman was more sensual, more sexy, than she let on at work.

But, Christ, he’d never in a million years expected what he’d seen on the stage tonight.

Yeah, she’d stumbled a couple times, looked a little uncertain here and there, but bottom line, she was fiery hot.

And she had a knockout body, just like the one in that “Brick House” song. Why would a woman keep that body concealed under the conservative clothing Hayley wore to work?

Especially if she had it in her to strip onstage.

She’d rolled onto her back and was arching up, as if offering her body to a lover.

Lust slammed through him in a wave so forceful he almost groaned.

Damn, he wanted to be that lover. Wanted to kneel between her spread legs and plunge into her, deep and hard.

The pressure of his fly against his erection was painful, confining. His cock ached to be free. To have one stroke of flesh against flesh. That’s all it would take and he’d come so hard he’d—

Fuck, he couldn’t think about it or he’d cream his suit pants.

Hayley’s music was coming to an end, thank God. Another couple minutes and he’d have been a goner. Last time he’d blown his cork in his pants, he’d been fourteen.

She rolled onto her hands and knees again, this time with her butt toward the audience. Her legs were spread and he could see the plump curves of her ass—man, did she have a spectacular one—and the shadowed cleft between them.

The guys at the front could probably see the folds of her labia.

Shit. This time he had to raise a hand to his mouth to force back the groan.

In a fluid motion, she swiveled around to a sitting position, facing the audience, then rose gracefully as the music came to an end.

Applause, whistles, and cheers broke out.

Ry clapped too, hard, not just because she deserved it but because he hoped to divert some blood away from his ready-to-blow cock.

Hayley’s cheeks were flushed, her hair tousled, and there was a gleam in her eyes.

Some of the women, when they’d finished dancing, had looked embarrassed and hurried to wrap themselves in a towel, but she stood straight, naked and beautiful, looking exhilarated by the adulation. He remembered her saying she’d danced ballet and performed onstage. The poise she’d learned then was serving her well.

As the audience settled down, the DJ said, “OK, folks, Penny Catalina wants a job dancing here at The Naked Truth. What do you think? Does her naked truth measure up?”

Cheers broke out.

It hit Ry for the first time that Hayley might actually win the contest and get a contract.

To dance each night for a crowd of slavering men.

The thought excited him a little, and also pissed him off. He didn’t understand either reaction.

But then, he wasn’t exactly thinking right now.

His entire being was focused on the driving need to be inside Hayley Croft.

She bent, breasts dangling like succulent fruit, to pick up her towel. After wrapping it around herself toga-style, she gathered up the cast-off bits of her costume, then left the stage.

Ry grabbed his beer and downed half the glass before drawing a breath. He was tempted to pour the other half on his throbbing groin.

No, he’d escape to the men’s room and jerk off.

The DJ announced another dancer and a cute blonde in a nurse’s costume came onstage.

About to make his getaway and take care of business, Ry’s attention was caught by Evelyn and Kari. They had risen from where they were seated closer to the front, and were coming toward him, heading either for the restroom or the bar.

He scooted his lower body under the table, ducking his head and focusing on his beer glass, and hoped they wouldn’t see him.

No such luck. In a couple seconds, they were standing beside him.

“What are you doing here?” Evelyn scolded in a whisper.

Getting blue balls probably wasn’t the wisest answer. “Wanted to see how Hayley’s audition went.”

Kari scowled. “How did you know it was tonight?”

“I’m a PI. Didn’t take much.”

The women exchanged glances, then Kari said, “Wasn’t she fabulous? I bet she wins.”

“She was, uh, good.” He voiced the question he couldn’t resist asking. “Are you the only ones who came to watch, or does she have a, uh, date in the audience?” He didn’t know whether to say girlfriend or boyfriend.

“It’s just us,” Kari said. “She broke up with her last boyfriend before she moved to Vancouver.” She leaned close to Evelyn, as if she’d lost her balance. Or was poking a surreptitious elbow in her ribs. “Why do you ask?”

To find out if she was straight. If she was committed or available.

If she might be open to a quick fuck in the back alley.

Shit, he was losing his mind.

Did the female PIs suspect what he was thinking? “Wondered if she needed a ride home,” he said gruffly.

“We’ve got it covered,” Evelyn said, her curious gaze making him glad for the dim light and the table he’d snugged up to.

“Yeah,” Kari put in, shifting from one foot to the other. “We’re good. And I really, really need to pee. Not to mention, I’m exhausted. The joys of being seven months pregnant.”

He grabbed on to that idea. “You should get home and rest. I’ll drive Hayley. I need to apologize for doubting she could do this.”

“I’m tired, not dead,” Kari said defensively. “But I definitely have to pee.” She bustled away.

“An apology would be good,” Evelyn said. “And yes, Kari could use some sleep. We’ll head home. Give me a call when they announce the winner. And make sure Hayley knows Kari and I didn’t spill the beans about her audition.”

He nodded, and she went in the direction Kari had disappeared.

Ry watched the last couple of performances—which couldn’t compete with Hayley’s—impatiently. Once he learned the winner, he could work out a game plan for how to proceed on the Mortimer case.

After all, he had a job to do. And much as he might fantasize about back-alley sex with super-hot Hayley, the chances of her sharing that erotic fantasy were slim.

Finally, the last dancer finished and the club’s manager, a stocky Asian guy in a dark suit, came onstage. “First, let’s give a big hand to all the sexy amateurs who did such a terrific job of entertaining us tonight.”

A group of women in their dance costumes came onto the stage and accepted a round of hearty applause.

“Now,” the manager went on, “it’s time to crown the winner of the audition. To find out which lovely lady will be gracing the stage of The Naked Truth for the next week.”

The women who had auditioned—five in number—took the stage. Hayley’s cheeks were flushed and she looked nervous and excited.

She had put her “suit” skirt and jacket back on, but left the jacket unbuttoned and parted at the front to reveal glimpses of her lacy black bra and naked flesh. She’d left the glasses off, and her hair was tousled as if she’d climbed hastily out of a lover’s bed and tossed on a few clothes.

She looked amazing. His whole body ached with the need to touch her.

Back at the office, every time he saw her in her buttoned-up clothes, he’d be imagining her onstage. Gorgeous, sexy. Seductive. Arousing.

The manager said, “As I said at the beginning of the night, we identified twelve of you in the audience to judge tonight’s competition. Each judge filled in a score card rating our lovely dancers on beauty, demeanor, dancing, sexiness, costume, and music selections, as well as audience response. We’ve tallied the votes, and here’s how it came out.”

Another drumroll, then he announced the second runner up, a striking black woman, and presented her with a bouquet of roses.

Ry held his breath. If Hayley won, it’d be a great opportunity for her to get close to their client’s wife. He’d work undercover in the club, making sure she was safe and checking out the staff and clientele, trying to figure out what Jennifer Mortimer had gotten herself mixed up in.

He’d get to watch Hayley dance. Again and again.

But so would hundreds of other men.

The manager announced the first runner up. Not Hayley, but a blonde with tits as big as Pamela Anderson’s had been in their glory days.

Ry thought of all those eyes on Hayley, if she won. She’d be a public commodity, naked in front of rich guys and blue collar workers, successful men and pathetic losers.

Tonight, the audience attention had seemed to be a turn-on for her. Hmm, was she an exhibitionist?

Until tonight, Ry’d never thought of himself as a voyeur. Seemed he was, at least when it came to her.

Why did it piss him off to think of other men watching her get down and dirty onstage?

The manager was flourishing a fancy scroll wrapped in gold ribbon. The dance contract he’d award to the winner.

“And the lucky lady—but really, it’s this week’s audiences who have all the luck, because she’s fantastic—is Penny Catalina!”

“Oh!” Hayley gasped, and the audience cheered as she accepted the scroll.

Well, how about that. She’d really done it.

Ry couldn’t wait to congratulate the winner.