Page 19 of For Your Eyes Only
“That Shula’s legal, right?”
“Of course she is.”
Barely, I suspect.
Loud music greets us the minute we open the door, and two young women are standing right outside. They’re holding drinks and laughing, and one has her hand over her nose and mouth.
“He totally recognized you,” she says, flashing her eyes.
Her friend, who is not as tall and a bit curvier, shakes her head. “How could he?”
They both turn to face us, and my eyes lock on the smaller one’s. She inhales a soft breath, and for a minute, I hesitate.
Her eyes are so dark brown, I can’t see her pupils, yet they seem to sparkle, like she’s lit from within. She has a sweet smile, high cheekbones, and a little dimple at the side of her full, glossy lips. Straight, white teeth and long, curly, curly hair.Beguiling.
With an internal shake, I force my eyes away from hers.
Maybe it’s the south Florida sun or the humidity or the salt air, or maybe I’m not getting enough sex at home. Glitter Girl has my fucking hormones so amped up, I’m ready to bed everything in sight.
“Sorry.” Her voice is soft and high with the touch of a sexy rasp.
“Hey, girls.” Franco steps up, motioning between us. “Bianca, Giana, this is Trip Alexander, one of the club bosses.”
“Nice to meet you. Are you dancers?” I study them both, searching.
“I’m an actress.” Bianca, the taller one, tosses her sleek brown hair over her shoulder with a playful tease.
That just leaves… “Giana?”
“Oh, I… ah, I sew the costumes!” She blinks fast, looking from me to her two friends and back. “For the dancers. I’m a seamstress.”
Pulling my chin back I nod. “Of course.”
I hadn’t considered where the girls got their costumes or how they tailored or repaired them.
Franco smirks like the arrogant Cuban he is. “Why don’t you girls join us for a drink? We’re in the VIP section.”
Bianca takes his arm, and the two lead the way. I hang back with Giana, not sure if I should offer my arm or simply walk beside her. My mind is distracted by what happened here last night in that roped-off area, but even with the ghost of Glitter Girl clouding my judgment, I’m able to appreciate the beautiful woman standing in front of me.
“Are you from Florida, Giana?” I hesitate, offering her my arm.
“Everyone calls me Gia.” She carefully slips her fingers onto my forearm, almost like we’re walking in a cotillion. “I’m from Santa Croce.”
“Italy?” I wasn’t expecting that reply. “You’re a long way from home. What brought you to the US?”
“I accepted a position at the Ballet Company of America, but then, well, it didn’t work out.”
“Shit, I heard about that. The BCA. It was a big news story.” Some idiot developer married a trophy wife, and they both went off the rails, leading to an attempted murder—and the death of a lot of ballet dreams. “That must’ve been a disappointment.”
“Yes, it was.”
We’re at the round booth in the back, and I watch as she steps away to sit by her friend. Curiously, I inspect her ass.Nice. It’s perky and round beneath her skirt–not what you usually see on a ballerina. Her calves are sculpted, and I can judge from her exposed arms she’s in great shape.
“Do you live in south Florida?” she asks before I have a chance to ask anything more.
“I live in New York, but I visit the area as much as possible. I have several businesses here.”
“I see.” She’s so mature, her dark eyes sizing me up like she hasn’t decided if she likes me.