“Let’s go clubbing, he says. It’ll be fun, he says.”
Parker’s wicked chuckle sounded in her ear, the noise around them low enough they could hear each other without shouting—that part was a nice surprise. She’d never been to a club where the music wasn’t deafeningly loud.
On the other hand, she’d never been to a club where half the clientele was soaring dozens of feet above her.
“What kind of dance club has trapeze swings lining the walls?” she said in amazement.
“One with swingers?”
Oh. God. Lynn whipped around to stare at him. “You’re not serious. This isn’t a place where they’re going to…? I mean, no one will ask us to…?”
Damn it. She flattened her palms against her burning-hot cheeks, but it was no use. He’d already seen her blush for the millionth time.
His husky laughter trickled over her like a caress, broad shoulders momentarily blocking her view of the central wine bar and the teeny standing-room-only tables filling the center of the room.
“Not swingers in the dirty sense.” He slid his fingers to her wrists, tugging her hands away and leaning in to kiss her briefly. Their lips were still touching when he murmured an assurance. “No way would I take you to that kind of bar.”
Her heart was still pounding, but now because of the expression in his green eyes. “Really?”
His jaw tightened and he nodded curtly, then changed the topic. “There’s our mark. In the blue by the wall.”
Lynn pushed the question on her tongue aside, although she was curious. He’d had no trouble sharing her with Dean that first time.
The fact he didn’t want to share her anymore made something inside warm.
“Let’s get closer.” Helping with his recon was exciting, even if she was a touch uncomfortable. She felt weird tracking down some poor unsuspecting woman, but she supposed Parker’s mark would thank them after she got the date of her dreams.
Parker guided her through the crowd toward the woman they were supposed to shadow. Immi Duncan was doing circle after circle on a gymnast’s bar, long black hair whipping around and her fair face flushed from exertion.
High Flyers wasn’t like any club Lynn had ever visited, that was for sure.
“Are there a lot of places similar to this?” she asked Parker as they found positions along the narrow bar counter.
“Places that serve alcohol and let you act out as circus wannabes?”
“Clubs that aren’t just music and dancing and alcohol.”
He answered her slowly, inching them closer to where Immi was preparing to grab the trapeze swing. “Not adding in the typical darts, pool tables, and fight clubs, I know places where you can’t get in the door without an appropriate costume—Regency dress or monkey suit.”
“Monkey suit?” That didn’t sound too weird. “Tuxes, you mean.”
“No, fur. Long arms. Tails.”
“You’re pulling my leg.”
He slid his hand from her hip over her butt. “I wish.”
Lynn sighed. “I’ve led a very sheltered life.”
“Stick with me, babe, and I’ll open a world of possibilities.” With a naughty grin, he leaned in again and swiped his tongue over her earlobe. “Ever done it in public before?”
Her pulse instantly sped up, but she managed to shoot him a brazen smile. “Why, are you offering to do me right here, right now?”
“You are getting bolder and bolder,” he said, then licked his lips. “And I fucking love it.”
She had to admit, she liked it, too. Parker brought out a naughty side she usually only shared with Suz.
“Well, hold that thought,” she said sternly. “First, tell me exactly what we need to find out about our mark.”
He quickly snapped into business mode. “Likes, dislikes, what she finds romantic. Her boyfriend wants to wow her, but he says she’s impossible to please.”
Lynn’s gaze strayed to Immi Duncan, who’d just hopped off the swing and was making her way toward them. Lynn experienced a jolt of panic, but it faded when she realized Immi wasn’t walking over to them, but to the trio of women near Lynn and Parker.
“That was amazing!” Immi gushed to her friends. “I can’t believe Barry didn’t want to come tonight.”
The tall African-American woman directly beside Lynn snickered. “God, can you see Barry at a place like this? He’d run out screaming.”
Immi made a tsk noise. “I swear, he refuses to take any risks. He wants to go to the same old restaurants and clubs and he won’t ever try something new. I don’t know why I’m still with him.”
“Yes you do,” another friend piped up. “We all know you love that man to death.”
Immi’s features softened. “Yeah, I totally do. I just wish he’d make more of an effort to share in my interests.”