Page 37 of Lawless in Leather

He waited for her to reach for them again. He would have handed them over if she did. But she didn’t. Instead she just lifted an eyebrow then shrugged. “Fine.” She glanced back over her shoulder at the bar. “Get yourself a drink and watch the show. I’ll find you afterward.”

Raina spent the show in a half daze. Operating on autopilot, she emceed her way through flirting with the crowd and getting the girls organized backstage. She and Brady had been working on a routine with the pink-and-black wings he’d made for her but she decided not to try it out tonight. Not with Mal in the audience watching her. She couldn’t see him, didn’t know if he’d stayed up the back at the bar or found another dark spot to lurk, but the stage lights in her eyes meant that she couldn’t spot him in the crowd. She could, however, feel him.

Every time she stepped onto the stage, her skin warmed and her breath started to quicken; she had to use all the tricks she’d learned over the years to smile and carry on as if nothing was bothering her. As if she couldn’t feel him watching her, feel the weight of his presence in the room.

She’d seen him standing at the bar and felt her heart turn over. She’d gone toward him without thinking. Had found it hard to walk away from him to do her job.

Damn the man. She was trying hard to do the smart thing.

But he kept turning up.

She had a feeling her grip on smart was rapidly loosening. Slipping and sliding as surely as her resistance.

Somehow she made it through the show without falling off the stage or losing her train of thought. When she finally got through the routine of bringing the girls back for a final bow and thanking the band, she might as well have run a marathon. Her breath was coming too fast and her legs felt oddly shaky.

She couldn’t stop herself looking for him one last time. And this time she saw him. Standing up by the bar, though on the opposite side of the room from where he had been earlier. Their gazes caught, just for a second, and she thought he tipped the glass he was holding in her direction. Then she made herself look away before she couldn’t.

She made herself take her time backstage, for once not going out and mingling with the last of the patrons before they left. She left the task of chasing them all out to Luis and his team while she hung out with the girls as they took off their costumes and wriggled into normal clothes. Some of them would head out to party on awhile longer. Others would be going home to families and bed. While she … well, she had to deal with Mal.

What exactly that might involve was something she couldn’t quite make her mind focus on. She could play half a dozen scenarios in her head—sending him home, drinking with him, talking to him, finding him gone when she finally emerged from backstage, taking him home with her—but none of it felt quite real. Not when her blood was fizzing and her body was humming and the whole night seemed to have a peculiar sharpness to the air.

One by one the performers left until Raina had no choice but to retreat to her office. Normally she put her makeup on and took it off down in the dressing room with everyone else, but tonight she wasn’t quite ready to wipe off the layers of cosmetics. Stage Raina, with her perfectly groomed brows, long black lashes, and bold red lips, always knew what to do. She could tame a song or a crowd or a routine and never miss a beat. Stage Raina could handle Mal Coulter. Real Raina wasn’t so sure she could.

So Stage Raina could stay for now. Though she took off the dress and pulled on black jeans and a red sweater and exchanged the four-inch platform heels for boots that were far more comfortable but still gave her height a boost. She was happy enough to run around in flats most of the time—as a dancer, comfort for her feet came first—but tonight she needed those few extra inches.

War paint and battle armor.

Why did she feel like taking on Mal was a fight?

A fight for what, exactly?

It was a question she didn’t want to examine too closely.

When she got down to the bar, Mal was still there. The sight of him, standing talking to Luis and Brady, made her pulse kick again. All right. He hadn’t left. So she was going to have to deal with him one way or another.

Send him packing or let him come closer.

There wasn’t another option and spending any more time dancing around each other was going to shred her nerves.

She pulled her shoulders back and walked into the fray.

The woman was on a mission, that much was clear to Mal as he watched Raina approach. Clear in the I-mean-business posture of the straight back and the fluid dancer’s stride that was tamed from sexy to purposeful. Clear in the sweater that revealed little skin but hugged her body tightly. Clear in the spike-heeled black boots and the flash of red lipstick still turning her mouth into something expressly designed to make a man think the sorts of thoughts he was trying not to think.

Question was, What exactly she was out to achieve? Getting rid of him or … no. Better not to think about that.

Though there was probably very little chance of not thinking about it. He’d been thinking about it all night. Ever since he’d climbed into her truck to bring it back to her.

As Raina reached them, Brady and Luis exchanged a look and then Brady said, “All right, we have some stuff to deal with before we go home. Good night.” The two of them disappeared through a door to the side of the bar before he had time to respond.

Leaving him alone with Raina.

“You’re still here,” she said when she reached him. She’d tipped her head into that little head-tilt, challenging thing she did. Nervous.

Good nervous or bad nervous?

“I said I would be.”

The angle of her head didn’t alter. “So, how did you like the show?”

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