She shook her head and pinched her nipple harder.

“Beg me.”

Finally, she couldn’t wait. “Damn you. Please make me come.”

She ground the heel of her hand against her clit, buried her fingers inside, and splintered, letting out that moan she’d tried so hard to hold in. Oh, it was so good, a rush of heat and wetness and such wild pleasure she bucked her ass off the bed, seeking more of the devilish bliss that soared through her body.

Aftershocks made her tremble as she slowly floated back to the mattress. Once she caught her breath, she stood on shaky legs and headed into her bathroom to turn on the shower, pausing to stare at herself in the mirror.

“You’re a mass of contradictions, Shadoe Grayson,” she said to herself. “Hot and cold, stiff and melty. But damn anyone who thinks you aren’t sexual enough to do this job.”

Because she could. And she was going to be very, very good at it.

SPENCE LEANED AGAINST THE WALL OF HIS ROOM, LISTENING TO the shower running in Shadoe’s bathroom. Now it was his turn to let out a loud groan. He jammed his fingers through his hair and cursed.

What the hell possessed Grange to put her in the room next to his? The walls were thin and Spence had good hearing. He’d heard every one of Shadoe’s moans, heard her talking to herself, and knew damn well what she’d been doing after her semi-strip show in the gym.

She’d been getting herself off. And all he could do was listen against the wall like some horny twelve-year-old voyeur and visualize what she was doing, how she looked as she came, and wish he was in there doing it to her.

Okay, so he might have been wrong about her. He’d thought she was a buttoned-up tightass. Turned out she had a tight ass all right, but not in the way he’d originally thought. He’d seen that sweet, perfectly formed rear end of hers in the gym. Who knew underneath those regulation clothes lurked a Victoria’s Secret model?

He palmed his cock. Christ. He was still hard. And more than irritated that she’d managed to tie his balls up in knots. She might have given him a raging hard-on, but he’d be damned if he was going to take his dick in hand and jack off like a teenager. There were plenty of women in town more than eager to help him get his rocks off.

The problem was, his mind was occupied with a certain brunette with chocolate brown eyes and perfectly shaped long legs. She’d gotten him hard. Now he wanted her to get him off.

The way she’d eagerly slid onto his lap in the gym, the way her eyes had gone all soft and melted with desire and need? Oh, yeah. She wanted. Especially after listening to her masturbate in her room.

The woman was A-number-one sexual. There was nothing prim and proper about Agent Shadoe Grayson. The problem was, Spence knew better than to mix pleasure with business. And Shadoe was business. Concentrating on his dick meant he wasn’t concentrating on the job, and that wasn’t good for the Wild Riders.

Shit. Maybe he would have to head to town for some relief. Because working around the innocent seductress was going to be a painful experience. And Spence didn’t do pain.

He also didn’t do denial. Which meant he hoped Shadoe had more self-control than he did, because if she said yes, there was no way he was going to say no.

This was going to be one hell of an assignment.

THREE

MARIA, THE STRIPPER SHADOE MET WITH THE NEXT DAY, WAS A tall, statuesque, raven-haired beauty with long, long legs and huge breasts. Shadoe felt like a short, mousy midget standing next to her. But Maria was also very nice, so Shadoe had a hard time hating her, even though she really wanted to.

They met at a dance studio in a very ritzy section of Dallas, one that Maria said she used frequently when working out new routines.

Maria apparently knew Grange well, and was discreet, according to Grange. Shadoe had no idea how much of Grange’s or the Wild Riders’ business Maria understood, and they didn’t discuss it. Grange just told her that Maria would be happy to show her some moves, and wouldn’t ask questions.

Good enough for her.

Shadoe hadn’t seen Spence all morning. Not that she’d gone looking for him. He wasn’t needed for this part of the assignment anyway. Grange had sent her to meet with Maria alone, which was fine with her.

Maybe Spence was avoiding her. Maybe he’d had enough yesterday after her impromptu private striptease. Shadoe released a triumphant smile at that thought, though she was pretty sure he just didn’t care to watch again today.

Introductions out of the way, Shadoe and Maria set to work. Or rather, Maria took charge and Shadoe followed along.

Maria had dressed in a short turquoise miniskirt and a body-hugging midriff top, covered by a sheer blouse. She wore heels that Shadoe had no hope in hell of ever being able to walk in, though Maria assured her she’d get used to them over time since high heels were a required part of any stripper’s uniform.

Shadoe didn’t think there was enough time in the world to get used to six-inch heels. When Maria discussed a stripper’s wardrobe, Shadoe realized she was going to have to go shopping. Maria gave her the name of her favorite trendy off-the-wall store where she could get some sexy stage clothes and shoes, then offered to go with her. Shadoe was grateful for any help she could get. Gun shopping she could do. Stripper clothes? Totally out of her league.

She thought they’d start dancing right away, but Maria was all business, discussing the philosophy and psychology of stripping. Maria took her job seriously, from what customers looked for all the way to how to please herself, to make sure she looked and felt her best, because if she didn’t look and feel good, her customers would know it.

The woman was thorough. Then again, so was Shadoe. She took her job just as seriously, so she admired Maria’s dedication to her craft. No wonder she was a headliner. This wasn’t just a get-in-and-make-a-quick-buck-until-the-real-thing-came-along type of job for Maria. This was her career. Her eyes simply glowed when she talked about stripping. Shadoe could tell that Maria loved what she did, that she enjoyed being the center of attention, loved dancing and playing to a packed house.

And when Maria finally turned the music on, pointed to a chair, and had Shadoe sit while Maria went through one of her routines, Shadoe was mesmerized.

Not only was Maria beautiful, she was captivating. There was nothing crass about the woman. Sensuality oozed from Maria’s body as she went through her moves, subtly removing each item of clothing—not too fast, not so slow as to make the audience lose interest—and the way she caught the eyes of her audience, let them know she loved what she was doing, like she was really there, as opposed to just counting down the minutes until her show was over and she could be somewhere else. It was magic and Shadoe felt utterly seduced.

And stripped down to just her thong, Maria was unashamed of her body, using every curve to her advantage as she gyrated around the room, completely in tune with the music.

When she finished, her body glistening with sweat, she grinned and Shadoe jumped from the chair and applauded.

“That was incredible,” Shadoe said, moving toward Maria as Maria turned off the music.

Maria grinned. “Thanks. I’m glad you liked it. You can do the same thing.”

Shadoe laughed. “Oh, I don’t think so. You obviously had quite a bit of training.”

Maria grabbed a towel and wiped the back of her neck, then unscrewed the top off a bottle of water. “Mainly it comes from on-the-job training. You learn a lot of tricks up there on the stage, and from watching the other dancers. You’ll pick it up in no time at all.”

Dancers. Maria constantly referred to herself and the other girls she worked with as dancers, not strippers. She’d have to remember that.

“I’ll do my best, but I have to tell you I’ve never done this before.”

Maria shrugged and pulled up a chair, seemingly not bothered at all by her near nudity. “Some girls step onto that stage and go at it like they’ve been doing it their whole lives. Others can dance for years and years and still look like amateurs. You’ll either have it, or you won’t, and no amount of training will help you with that.”

“Have what?”

“It, honey. The magic. You either have a calling for entertaining, or you don’t. Some are born to perform, to seduce men with their bodies and their eyes. Others just climb on the stage to make a quick buck, but they’re never really into it. And it shows.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Maria grinned, showing off perfect white teeth. “There are various levels of strippers, Shadoe. You have your seedy joints, with part-time strippers who are also hookers, or the drug-addicted ones out to make fast money for their next fix. Really low-class stuff. They look worn down, or bored, and you can tell right away that their hearts are not in it. Then there are the ritzier clubs, where you’ll be. Those are the places where the headliners perform, where the owners are choosy about which girls get the privilege of dancing there. They hire only the high-class dancers. Believe me, there’s a huge difference, and you can tell right away between the two.”

Shadoe nodded. She had a lot to learn. “You’re obviously high-class.”

“Well, thanks for that. I like to think so. I’ve worked hard for the past ten years to get where I am today.”

Shadoe leaned back and studied the beautiful woman. “How does someone get into a field like this? I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s not like stripping is something every little girl dreams of doing someday.”

Maria laughed. “It’s okay. I get asked that question a lot. I majored in theater in college, but I got bored and antsy easily, and though I loved performing, I found I lacked the patience for all the classroom work. I loved doing the shows, enjoyed the performance aspect, but didn’t like taking the time to study the craft. Bad me. So I took some sideline jobs as a singing waitress and dancing at a few clubs—not stripping just yet—and then I got a great offer to strip at a high-class club because of my dance skills, so I decided to give it a try.”

“Kind of scary for someone brand-new to that kind of lifestyle, I imagine.”

Maria laughed. “You have no idea. The first night my knees knocked together so hard I was afraid I’d fall right off my shoes. But the customers were all encouraging and I fell madly in love with the spotlight. I never left after that. School just wasn’t for me. I had found my calling and stayed there. It’s a kick and a half and I love my life.”

Shadoe nodded. “Life’s too short not to do something you love.”

“Isn’t that the truth?” Maria stood and placed her hands on her hips. “So let’s turn you into a stripper.”

Shadoe stood, too, and swallowed past the dry lump in her throat. “You’re kind of a tough act to follow.”

Maria let out a throaty laugh. “Honey, you don’t have to be me. You just have to be yourself. And eventually you’ll figure out your own routine.”

As Maria took her hand and led her to the middle of the floor, Shadoe slanted her a wide-eyed look. “I need a routine?”

“Of course. Every headliner needs an angle. Something that sets you apart from the other girls.”

“You mean I can’t just step on the stage, take my clothes off, wiggle my ass, and be done with it?”

Maria snorted. “Hardly. It’s more than just stripping. It’s a whole act, with music and costumes and choreography. You’ll need a theme.”

A theme? Good God. What kind of theme? Like GI Jane or Wonder Woman or Betty Boop, or something equally heinous or ridiculous? She pictured feather boas, sequins, and fishnet stockings, and those hideous chunky platform boots. Or maybe something in all bubblegum pink. She looked horrible in pink. Gag. So not her at all. Then again, was any of this?

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll get you a routine going in no time. I’ll help. First you need moves. Let’s see what you’ve got.”