He knew the answer, but he didn’t have to like it. Ever since his brothers started settling down it was the beginning of the end. Before then, none of them really considered the possibility of a soul mate. Hell, not one among them could comprehend the monotony of a single woman, let alone a lifelong commitment. Lifelong sentence was more like it, and the Callaghan boys had no wish for incarceration without possibility of parole.
Others laughed at their total disregard for settling down, citing divorce or annulment as a way out if things got unbearable. But the Callaghan men took their oaths – all of their oaths – seriously. They believed that if they pledged before God, family, and friends to love, honor, and cherish till death, then that is exactly what they would do.
Then Taryn came into their lives, and Jake was lost. Lexi returned to her roots and ended up right where she belonged – in his brother Ian’s arms. And Maggie – well, if she wasn’t custom-made for Michael, then the sun wouldn’t rise tomorrow.
They were all changing, realizing that maybe there was a chance for each of them. The only one not thrown by the last two years’ worth of upheaval was the clan patriarch, Jack Callaghan, who had always known the truth of it – that Callaghan men, when they fell, fell hard and completely. He’d married the love of his life and they’d had seven sons together. Even now, two decades after her untimely death, Jack Callaghan swore he was as much in love with her as the day he’d first laid eyes on her.
That’s what Sean wanted. That’s what they all wanted. Until recently, none of them believed it possible.
Sean took a long, slow sip from his glass and exhaled. When – if – it happened, he wouldn’t have any control over it. He just had to make damn sure he was ready, just in case.
The first set of dancers was good, but nothing special. The club owner, Jason Michaels, usually had three girls on each set, one to the left, one to the right, and one center stage. The first trio was traditionally the tamest, meant for those out for just a little taste and nothing too hardcore. Standard moves, predictable music, traditional costumes. Cute, but definitely not his style.
Sean used the time to pound back a few cold ones and give himself over to the music, trying not to think too hard about any of the serious shit that kept niggling at the back of his mind. He wished he could go back to just enjoying himself. Get drunk, watch the girls, hook up afterwards, go home sated and alone.
Yep, that’s exactly what he wanted. Simplicity. Independence. Freedom.
The next set of girls was a bit more risqué. The music was harder, the costumes more daring, the moves more suggestive. But still, no sign of Nick’s sister. He checked his watch. Almost midnight.
The lights dimmed and the fog machines created a rolling mist as the stage was prepared for the final act. The minutes ticked by until finally, a hush fell over the crowd and men all across the room found themselves leaning forward in anticipation. Looking around, Sean noticed that the crowd had grown considerably since he’d first arrived – quite a feat since it had been packed then.
It started with a low-pulsing base. Black and red lights illuminated the dance floor, shining up eerily through the fog. For a few seconds all of the lights went out, and when they came back on, three of the hottest women Sean had ever seen were positioned besides gleaming silver poles.
Now this is what he was talking about. Black leather held together with the skinniest of cords and shiny metallic rings. Suicide heels. Gleaming silver chains. Oh, fuck yes. Sean found himself shifting in his seat, too.
The woman on the left side – where he was – drew his attention immediately. Jesus, he thought, as his brain soaked in the image before him. The dancer had the same color hair as Nicki. The same lean, lithe build. The same motherfucking tattoos.
She remained on his side of the stage, one of three biker chicks dancing seductively along to ball-pounding heavy metal and screaming guitar. Lace thongs. Black leather jackets. Mirrored shades. High-heeled boots that went up to the thighs. The jackets opened slightly, giving a peak at the black satiny lace beneath. He watched, his mouth slightly open as he found himself wishing he was a shiny silver pole, just like probably every other guy in the place.
How the hell did she get her leg all the way up there like that? And that, that was some serious muscle control, there.
Sean couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Her moves were fluid, graceful. Her body, while lush, was extremely toned, which Sean found very attractive. There was something about the way her sculpted strength flexed and danced beneath all that soft, glistening skin that had him harder than iron. Standing still, she was hot. Moving, she was nothing short of a supernova.
And then oh, fuck him, the dancers were slinking down the stairs for highlighted lap dances.
Sean was all too aware of the surge in male interest around him as the men started reaching for their wallets. A possessive, almost primal growl started rolling through his chest as he saw dozens of hungry eyes glued to Nicki expectantly. Like hell.