“Okay,” Ry said to the group around the conference table, “next up is the Mortimer case.” He opened a buff folder and stared at the contents, avoiding looking at Hayley Croft.

The woman who’d revved him up the way no one else ever had.

It had taken all his willpower to drop her at her apartment and tell her to catch a few hours of sleep. He hadn’t slept a wink himself, as he replayed memories of how she’d looked onstage, how she’d felt and tasted, the way she’d stroked him and taken him in her mouth.

Fuck. His cock was swelling.

“Hayley auditioned last night,” he said, trying to sound businesslike.

“And she won!” Kari cried. “Way to go, Hayley. She was incredible, and now she has a one-week contract at The Naked Truth.”

“Really?” Ravi said. “Good work, Hayley.”

“You auditioned and didn’t tell us?” Tom whined, playing his goofball role as usual. “Now that’s just plain mean.”

“Oh, sure,” Kari teased, “like we’d tell you? And have you in the audience leering at Hayley, throwing her off her stride?”

“Children,” Evelyn said tolerantly. She ran The Private Eye with a light hand, creating a relaxed atmosphere that had turned the disparate group of PIs into an effective, friendly team.

While the others bickered good-naturedly, Hayley didn’t say a word. Her silence drew Ry like a magnet. When he glanced at her, he found her gazing right back, golden eyes gleaming behind her glasses. Lovely eyes, fringed with dark lashes. Even lovelier without last night’s heavy makeup and false eyelashes.

Did she look different than usual? Her tan jacket and chocolate pants were the typical unremarkable ones, but she’d never worn the top couple buttons of her shirt undone before, had she? Undone, to reveal a hint of creamy lace. Reminding him of her full breasts last night, barely contained by black lace. Of how they’d looked in the moonlight. Of the incredible softness of her skin, the way her nipples had hardened when he sucked on them.

His cock, predictably, swelled again.

Ry dragged his gaze from her chest and noted that her hair was pulled up in the usual tight knot. Yet it glowed with highlights and a few soft curls had drifted loose—they’d never done that before, had they?—reminding him of the long silky waves she’d tossed seductively as she danced. Of the way her hair had caressed and teased his body when she went down on him.

Damn, but he wanted to free her hair, rip off her glasses, unbutton her. He shifted, his cock now uncomfortably hard within the confines of his jeans.

Her lips twitched. Full, rosy pink lips, still a little swollen from last night’s passion. She straightened them quickly, but there was a twinkle in her eyes.

Forcing himself to refocus on the conversation, he realized Kari and Evelyn were telling the other men about Hayley’s makeover and training. Rigorous training, from what they said.

“Oh, come on.” Tom grinned. “All that work just so you can swing around a stripper pole?”

“I’d like to see you try it,” Hayley answered evenly, eliciting a giggle from Kari.

Ry smiled. How had he never noticed Hayley before? Last night, when he’d come to his senses, he’d decided they needed to keep things professional. But damn, his thoughts kept wandering in a far more intimate direction.

He glanced around the table. “With Hayley dancing at the club, she’ll be able to talk to our subject and try to make friends.” He shot her a cautionary glance. “Just talk. You’re not a PI. Don’t put yourself in the way of anything that’s potentially dangerous.”

“I understand. And I appreciate that you’re trusting me with this assignment.” Now she looked totally serious.

But still sexy, damn her.

He tore his gaze away. “We’ll need eyes and ears in the rest of the club. It’s the place where Kat Dancer performs the most. If she’s having an affair or into drugs, it’s likely happening there. And of course we need to make sure Hayley’s safe.”

“I’ll volunteer to keep an eye on her,” Tom said with an exaggerated wink.

Something primitive and male inside Ry made him snap, “No, I’ll do it.”

Evelyn raised an eyebrow, and he realized how abruptly he’d reacted.

Tom had pushed his buttons. Rather than admit it, Ry justified his response. “You’re the wrong type for this club. Their clientele’s mostly businessmen.”

“I can spell you off,” Ravi offered.

The young Indo-Canadian was professional and a genuinely nice guy, but all the same, raw instinct made Ry reject the idea of him watching Hayley strip. “No, thanks. It’s my case. I’ll handle it.”

Kari and Evelyn exchanged glances. Hopefully they didn’t suspect he and Hayley’d had sex, and just thought he was being considerate of her. After all, he’d already seen her strip, so what was the big deal about a few more nights of it?

Arousal pulsed thick and heavy in his blood at the thought of seeing her naked, night after night.

“What’s your cover story?” Hayley asked. “Are you a stranger or does Penny know you?”

Know him? As intimately as any woman ever had. His cock throbbed at the memory of her mouth teasing him. Of plunging deep inside her sweet moist heat.

He cleared his throat, trying to ignore his erection. “I’m a businessman from Edmonton who’s here for a couple weeks work. Alone, looking for entertainment. Lonely and chatty. I’ll try to build rapport with the bartender, waitresses, security people.”

“Are you planning on covering all the hours Hayley’s working?” Evelyn asked. “With no one else taking shifts? And what about the expense? Has the client authorized it?”

“I’m hoping it’ll only take two, three nights, then Hayley can fake illness and quit. As for the hours, The Naked Truth is only open at night and…” He turned to Hayley. “Your safety comes first. I don’t think there’s much to worry about between eight and ten thirty or eleven, so I could come in later and stay until the club closes. But if you’d like someone there all the time—”

“No, I’m not worried,” she broke in, shaking her head so the loose curls bounced around her face. “And I’d rather no one else took shifts. As Kari said, it might throw me off and I might blow my cover.”

“Take your cell and put my number on speed dial,” he told her, wishing he could reach out and twine one of those shiny curls around his finger. Or his swollen cock.

Sweat broke out on his forehead. “Go to the club by public transit. No vehicle with a tag that’ll trace back to you.”

“And take a taxi home after?”

“Ry will be at the club,” Kari said, “so he can give you a ride. It’ll give you a chance to compare notes.” There was an undertone in her voice that made him look at her suspiciously.

“Good idea,” Hayley said. “He can debrief me.”

Into his mind flashed a vivid image of peeling off her black lace thong. He almost groaned as his erection thrust against his boxer briefs, seeking release. Craving Hayley’s soft hand, her wet mouth, the welcoming grip of her tight, warm pussy.

How would he find the willpower to resist having sex with her again?

Hayley entered the dressing room at The Naked Truth dressed as Donna had suggested, in jeans and a T-shirt, hair in a ponytail, wearing contact lenses. She lugged a gym bag with four costumes: the one she’d worn for her audition, a white lacy peignoir set, a purple harem outfit with gold trim, and a rhinestone-laden black evening dress. It was so much fun—and so enlightening—to explore different personas.

But right now, she was here to work for The Private Eye and she wanted to impress Ry with her competence. As well as seduce him, of course, but she wouldn’t think about that until she was dancing for him.

In one corner, a pretty young Latina, also in jeans and a T-shirt, sprawled in a chair with a heavy textbook and a yellow highlighter. She didn’t look up.

Two other women were pulling clothing from their bags: Jennifer/Kat, looking wholesome in a pink blouse and khakis, her black hair in a ponytail, and a buxom blonde in a tight black track suit. They turned assessing gazes on Hayley, and the blonde drawled, “Oh, goodie, it’s the new girl.”

Donna had said most dancers thought rookies should shut up and learn, so humility would be the best approach.

Hayley nodded, letting her nervousness show. “Hi. I’m Penny and I’m a total newbie. So if you see me doing something stupid, would you tell me before I make a fool of myself?”

A snort from the corner told her the student was listening.

“Don’t be bitches, you two,” Kat said. “We were rookies once.” The gaze she turned on Hayley was neutral. “Why are you here? Was it just a whim, auditioning last night, or do you really want to be a dancer?” As she spoke, she unbuttoned her blouse and took it off.

Hayley launched into her cover story. “My boyfriend lost his job and he’s having trouble finding another. I’m a salesclerk, but that’s not bringing in enough money for us to live on. Someone mentioned dancing.” She shrugged. “I worked up some routines and here I am.”

The blonde, who had stripped down to an underwire bra and a thong, rolled her eyes. “Another one who’s supporting her guy. Ladies, wise up, it’s supposed to go the other way around.”

“No,” the Latina girl said, closing her book. “It’s about being independent. Which is why I’m getting a law degree, so I can support myself in the style to which I fully intend to get accustomed.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Hayley said. Might Kat be doing the same? Saving money to further her education?

The other women had been pulling off clothing casually, and the blonde was naked now, but for a large butterfly tattoo on the upper curve of her bum.

Hayley didn’t know where to look.

If Gran could see her now, she’d be shocked. This undercover job, like her kickboxing, was best kept secret. She didn’t want to worry her grandmother, or get another lecture.

“There’s nothing wrong with dancing,” Kat said tartly, skimming off bikini panties so that she, too, was naked. “Don’t be a snob, Lolita.” To Hayley, she said, “She thinks lawyers are better than strippers.”

“They make a hell of a lot more money,” Lolita shot back, rummaging in her bag and pulling out a tiger-striped bra and G-string. “This job pays well, but not great. You know British Columbia guys are crappy tippers.”

Out of her bag came a black leather whip. “And law isn’t an age-limited job like stripping. And lawyers get way more respect.”

The Private Eye had a number of lawyer clients. “Yeah, the profession gets more respect,” Hayley said, “but lawyers are like anyone else. Some are good people, some are scummy. I imagine that’s the same with dancers?” The other women seemed so comfortable with their nudity, it encouraged her to start taking off her own clothes.

“Exactly,” Kat said. “By the way, I’m Kat, Penny. So, how was it last night? How did you feel up onstage, peeling off your panties?” There was a challenge in the question.

How should she answer? She had no idea whether Kat enjoyed stripping or did it to be close to a lover or a drug connection. Rather than guess, Hayley went with honesty. “Before I went on, I was so scared I thought I’d puke. But then I got into the music, and I realized the audience was really into it. Like, I was performing and they were…”

“Worshipping you?” the blonde asked. “Yeah, that’s cool, isn’t it?”

“Very. I’m not used to men worshipping me.”

“I know that feeling,” Kat said dryly, stepping into a silver G-string. “Here’s another thing that’s cool. Power. You’re in control. You hold those guys in the palm of your hand.”

Like she’d felt with Ry. “Feminine power. Yes, it’s pretty heady.”

“What’s your boyfriend think about you dancing?” Lolita asked. “Guys can get nasty about it. Jealous, possessive.”

Kat nodded. “Not to mention buying into the negative stereotype and thinking there’s something wrong with you.”

Ooh, very interesting. Hayley was dying to pursue that line of conversation, but another couple dancers came into the dressing room and there was a flurry of greetings.

As she listened, Hayley realized that some of the women would be dancing onstage like her, others would only be doing private dances, and some, like Kat, would do both. Soon she was absorbed into the noise and bustle, the female scents and abundance of nude, toned flesh.

The ambience was relaxed and bawdy and, once she got used to it, pretty fun.

Yes, there were some crude, often hilarious jokes. As well as bare crotches and women checking each other for unclipped tampon strings and clingy bits of toilet paper that would glow under the black light in the club. And discussions of boob jobs and sequins, rug-burned knees and flashers.

But the bottom line was, these were women like any others. With baby pictures, menstrual cramps, and laments about dry skin and oily hair.

Hayley was a bit of a Girl Scout—always prepared—and by the time she’d given ibuprofen to one dancer, produced a Band-Aid for the blister on another’s foot, and loaned tweezers to a third, she was feeling almost like part of the gang.

When it was her time to take the stage, she performed the same number as last night, feeling much more confident. It was early and Ry wouldn’t have arrived, so this time, rather than dance for him or a fantasy of him, she instead tried to connect with the very real men who were watching.

And damned if she didn’t have one hell of a good time. Yes, as the tattooed blonde, Candy, had said, it was cool to be worshipped. And, as Kat had mentioned, Hayley did have a sense of power and enjoyed being in control.

Dancing was a turn-on, but where last night it had been sexual, imagining Ry, tonight it was about finding her power as a woman. A sensual, sexy woman. She’d use that power later, to seduce Ry.

When she came offstage, she laughed exultantly. “Wow, I could get hooked on this!”

Kat, who was ready to go onstage, grinned. “You know it!”

She seemed so natural, so nice. Hayley had trouble believing she’d cheat on her spouse or get into the drug scene.

Candy, who’d been onstage before Hayley, had changed into a skintight minidress. “I’m going to see if I can rustle up some VIP dances. You coming?”

“I-I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“Hey, you want power, girl, that’s where it is. You get them all worked up and they can’t even touch you. And they pay you for the privilege.”

Hayley knew the liquor licensing laws prohibited touching in an area where liquor was served. She appreciated the rules and clear boundaries in the club. Too bad men outside in the real world didn’t have to obey the same ones.

“Lots of guys don’t even want the dance so much as the conversation,” a petite brunette commented. “They’re lonely, just want some company. Half the time, I think we’re more counselors than dancers. You should give it a try, Penny.”

“Maybe later.”

Hmm. Perhaps she’d offer a private dance to Ry.

There were cameras in the VIP booths to ensure the rules were obeyed. What a test of self-control it would be, giving Ry a lap dance if neither of them could touch the other. With foreplay like that, he wouldn’t be able to resist having sex later.

And, as she was coming to believe, the way to a man’s heart was through his cock.