TopGuns Read online

  “I can’t remember.” Tyler shrugged and yelled across the porch, “Hey, Jean, how long have we known you for?”

  Shock kept Jason silent for a moment as the woman he’d spent most of the morning thinking about in one capacity or another set her knitting down and headed their direction with a sexy swing in her hips.

  Son of a bitch. He’d been crazy not to pursue something with her when he’d had the chance. Somehow fate had always intervened—tossed a shitty boyfriend or a clinging girlfriend into the mix to separate them. Then she’d gotten married to a hell of a guy and had the life Jason hadn’t realized he wanted until it was too late.

  That’d been years ago and now all the two of them had left between them was a hell of a friendship and a lot of what-ifs. She had the same sassy, but sexy, smile she’d had the day he met her. Blonde hair once worn long and sultry was now in a short bob. Sky-blue eyes regarded him with warmth he felt clear to his nuts.

  Man he had it bad.

  “Hi, Jase.”

  Jase. No one else had ever called him that. Then again, he’d sort of started that little name war years ago. “Hey, Jeans.” Had he ever told her why he’d called her that?

  Probably not. Huh. Maybe he should.

  “How long have you known us?”

  She smirked as she sat in the chair on the other side of Jason. “Long enough to know you aren’t up to any good, Goose.”

  “Hah. She’s got you pegged, man.”

  Tyler’s gaze softened with amusement. “Seriously. We can’t remember.”

  The look she cast Jason was like a punch to the nuts. “You don’t remember the night we met?”

  “Of course I do.” He glared to his right. “I’ve just never told him about that night.”

  “Oh.” Her eyes widened and a grin appeared on her face. “Oh.”

  “Oh?” Tyler leaned forward. “That sounds promising.”

  “It was my amateur competition—the first night I danced and got the job.”

  “And?”

  Jason remained silent for a moment. “And what? That’s it.”

  “Oh no.” She laughed, the sound echoing into his ears and making his pulse race. She squeezed his biceps and rested her other hand on top of his. “You’ve got to tell him, Jase, or I will.”

  Chapter Two

  Jason stared at the building before him and took a deep breath. This was it. LaBare. He’d finished the last of his finals for the semester a few hours ago. Exhaustion plagued him, but bursts of adrenaline surged within him the moment he stepped into the building.

  A stocky guy stood in the entryway. He looked Jason up and down with a smug smirk on his face. “You here for amateur night?”

  “Yeah.”

  The guy eyed the university shirt Jason had shrugged on that morning. “You a student?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re a talkative one.” The man folded his arms across his chest. “Why do you want to be a dancer?”

  He couldn’t help but grin in response. Was there any other reason besides the ladies? Nah, he had a couple others. Boosting his confidence was at the top of that list but he wasn’t about to tell the guy staring him down about that. “What can I say? I love the ladies.”

  “Guess we’ll figure out real quick if they love you back. I’m Mike, the manager.” The guy motioned toward a side door. “Head to the back. We’ll call you when it’s time.”

  Jason nodded and wondered how they’d do that since the guy didn’t bother getting his name. “Head to the back” had seemed like a simple enough instruction but the moment he stepped through the double doors his gut settled in his ankles like a set of immovable weights.

  His gaze swept across the large club and the assorted doors against the back wall. Great. He followed the walkway to the bar and halted in awe as a petite blonde leaned over the bar. Jeans hugged her curves, accentuating the delectable bubble of her ass. Her red top rode up just enough for him to glimpse ivory skin his tongue wanted to lick almost more than he wanted to grip her hips and pull her against him.

  “Eyes off the help, kid.”

  The manager’s voice exploded in Jason’s brain as heat rose in his cheeks. The blonde stood and turned. She propped one delicate hand on her hip and slid her blue-eyed gaze down him. His muscles flexed under the intensity of her perusal and blood surged southward of its own accord.

  Her eyebrows rose and a knowing grin lit up her face as his pants got snugger. “I see you finally got a decent one.”

  “Maybe.” The manager moved to stand beside Jason. “We’ll have to see if he can handle it.”

  “Oh I bet he can handle a lot of things.”

  Damn.

  The manager sighed. “Ease off, Jeanie. He looks like he’s about to run and I could use a decent show tonight.”

  “Fair enough.” She grinned as she grabbed a rag from the bar and tossed it on her shoulder. “I’ll be on the lookout for those killer moves.”

  “She’s out of your league, kid. Trust me.” The manager slapped him on the back and laughed. “Dressing area’s behind the first door on the left.”

  “Thanks.” On both counts. Jason tried to pry his mind from the sexy bartender but he couldn’t help but imagine her gaze on his body as he made his way to the back.

  The backroom was filled with testosterone-filled Magnum P.I. rejects in various stages of dress. The wannabes huddled in a corner as the dancers watched one of their own pound out the last few reps on the bench press. He watched for a few moments and noted the labored breathing.

  Huh. Two hundred wouldn’t faze a guy that ripped.

  Jason sat on a bench in the corner and checked out the competition. Eight other contestants—most of them in seemingly decent shape. Whether they could cut it on stage remained to be seen.

  Like Mike had said, it was all about the ladies loving what they saw. Jason might not be a lady but even he could tell a couple of the dudes were pretty ugly. But they had the confidence thing down if their body language was any indication. One of them leaned back with a smug grin on his face as he watched the dancers across the room.

  He guffawed when the dancer finished his set and Jason couldn’t help but grimace. The dancer glared over at him. “What the fuck are you looking at?”

  “Nothing, man,” the guy replied.

  Shit. Jason shifted on the bench. Talk about awkward. A deaf man could hear the sarcasm in that response and a blind one could see more was going on here than the obvious.

  “I fucking bet you can’t press eight.” He looked at the other guys around him. “Twenty bucks but you have to touch your chest each time with no bounce.”

  “Easy money.” The guy swaggered over to the other side of the room. The dancers chuckled and moved away enough for the guy to get into position.

  The room fell silent as he proceeded to slowly press out four, his sole focus on not bouncing the weight and touching his chest each time. The dancers congregated around him and their voices rose as they cheered for him to hit eight and snag the easy twenty bucks.

  The other contestants cheered as well but Jason remained silent as the contestant got to the final press. Before he could press the last one out the dancers held the barbell down on his chest. Pinned to the bench, he struggled. A few of the dancers whipped their dicks out and slapped his forehead. After a few moments the guys moved away in a raucous collective.

  Oh hell no. Jason laughed in awkward unison with the dancers. The guy had deserved it, he supposed.

  The contestant slammed the barbell down and stood. Jason moved his leg when the man charged over and grabbed his bag from beneath the bench. “Fuck this. I don’t need this place.”

  A couple of the other contestants slapped the guy on the back as he charged toward the door. Jason kept to himself and nodded at the dancers across the way when he noticed them watching the other contestants as if gauging their reactions.

  Whatever.

  He hadn’t expected it to be an easy road. Anytime you
get that many guys in a situation, shit’s gonna happen. The best solution was to roll with it.

  Silence loomed for a few seconds and then the door slammed open as the manager stormed in. He crossed his arms and regarded the guys across the room. “What the fuck happened this time?”

  One of them laughed. “It’s bunk, dude. He couldn’t take a joke.”

  “Yeah, he wouldn’t have lasted long anyway. You gotta have a sense of humor to do this shit,” another commented.

  The manager shook his head and held out a stack of folded papers. “All right, contestants, you’re up. Come draw your position.”

  Justin hung back a moment as the other guys drew. An older scraggly haired guy with a touch of gray in his facial hair limped up and took a number. The manager gave out the remaining two sheets to Justin and a pale, skinny guy.

  Number four.

  The manager mumbled a few instructions to the group but Jason’s brain was feeding off a surge of adrenaline and didn’t hear much of what he said. They were herded to an area just offstage that gave them a chance to check out their competition and—more importantly—gauge the ladies.

  Jason noted the sparse crowd. At least he wasn’t first. By the time he got up maybe there’d be more out there but he doubted it. The first guy made his way to center stage, looking like a fool caught in his speedo.

  Uncomfortable watching what could happen to him when he got out there, Jason focused on the club itself. The women began gathering around the stage. Bursts of laughter echoed from the small crowd and he knew he didn’t want to hear that when he went up.

  Determination kept him mute and inattentive as the second man replaced the first. The man was a walking skeleton who’d never seen the sun. The ladies shifted on their feet and darted their glances around as though unsure whether to pity the guy or ignore him altogether.

  By the time the third guy limped onto stage, Jason’s adrenaline was pumping full force. He was next. The guy sat in a chair mid-stage and…

  No way.

  Jason blinked and heard the dancers behind him laughing in disbelief.

  “No fucking way,” one of them screamed. He turned around. “Hey, dudes, you gotta check this guy out. He has no legs.”

  Jason watched in disbelief as the scraggly dude with the graying beard gyrated and danced on nubs with more confidence than his two predecessors combined. The ladies went nuts. Their screams tunneled across the stage and settled in Jason’s gut with a sense of dread.

  A guy laughed behind him and slapped his back. “I’m really glad I’m not going up after him and I’ve been doing this shit for ten years. Good luck, dude.”

  Luck and dancing skills only went so far. Jason made his way to stage when signaled and forced back the nerves rattling his guts. He focused on the music, thought about each move and tried to ignore his brain as it judged he was too mechanical.

  Too boring.

  The ladies screamed as he made his way to them and he zoned out—drunk on adrenaline and fueled by pleasure as the women took their respective turns tipping him. Their hands touched and squeezed.

  For a guy who’d always been shy around the ladies this was a change of pace—one he was all too willing to enjoy permanently. As the song continued he’d found a groove and embraced the sexiness of the situation.

  By the time his performance was over he knew this was what he wanted to do. Even though nervousness still crawled along his skin, some foreign sensation had taken root. Confidence.

  He’d rocked the stage and left the ladies smiling.

  A couple of the guys slapped his back when he made his way offstage. He should’ve probably hung around to watch the other guys but he didn’t much care about the competition anymore. Sure, he wanted to win but the most important thing was that this was his fate. He wanted this more than he wanted to win.

  “Dude, you’re gonna get your ass kicked by a legless bum.”

  “Whatever makes the ladies happy,” Jason replied.

  One of the guys leaned against the lockers and laughed. “You should’ve seen your face when he took his legs off, man.”

  “Yeah, I wasn’t sure whether it was real or I was tripping on something.”

  “You know, dude, you’re cool. Mike’s used to us giving him and all you guys shit about amateur night but I think you’d fit in.”

  Jason felt the grin spread on his face as he looked up. “Thanks, man.”

  He gathered his stuff and made his way to the bar in the back of the club. It’d be a while before Mike made the announcement for the winner but there was little doubt who it’d be based on the crowd’s reaction. He sat on a stool and smiled at the pretty blonde on the other side of the bar. Jeanie. Now that he’d whipped the performance anxiety he couldn’t help but think of those sexy jeans or the sultry grin on her face as she turned around and saw him there.

  “Not too bad.” She cocked her head toward the stage. “It’s a shame Old Hank wandered in tonight.”

  “Old Hank?”

  “He wanders in every now and then. The regulars love his enthusiasm and it primes their generous spirits.” She smirked. “A win-win, except maybe for you.”

  “Hah.”

  She leaned forward. The angle dragged her shirt lower and her tits higher. His mouth watered at the ample cleavage and gorgeous mounds barely covered. Blood surged southward but he forced his gaze back to her face.

  “What’ll you have?” she asked with a knowing smirk.

  Yeah. They both knew what he wanted to have wasn’t on the menu. Or maybe it was. He eyed her for a moment then remembered where the hell he was. The dance manager’s warning was crystal clear—eyes off the help.

  And he wanted this. He needed this. Self-confidence was something he’d always grappled to maintain, especially when it came to the ladies. He’d struggled for most of his life to carve out his place in the world, not that many people seemed to give a shit one way or the other whether he was here.

  But he’d held his own decently enough and gotten by. He was sick of getting by. Getting by sucked. Constant struggles to stay ahead of the bill collectors, ahead of the burden of being dead-ass broke.

  All the fucking time.

  Somehow he’d made it. He’d stayed true to his promise and gotten himself into college. Emotion clogged his throat when he thought about her. She would’ve been proud that he’d gotten into his senior year.

  Just a few more months, Mom.

  But that’d been her dream—to see someone of her bloodline with a college education. The thought of sitting behind a desk day in and day out made Jason ill. His stomach cramped and his heart sank at the idea.

  But the education he’d gotten because it meant so much to his mom came with a hefty price tag—one Jason knew this job could pay off quicker than the one down the street slinging burgers. More importantly, if he was being totally honest with himself—which there was no fucking reason not to be—the idea of this placed turned him on. Having women groping him, wanting to be with him. He couldn’t think of a better way to pay off his debts.

  Sexy Jeans snapped her fingers in his face. “You with me?”

  “A beer.” He reached toward his bag to pull out his wallet. The ink was still wet on his new ID since his nineteenth birthday was a couple weeks ago.

  “No worries.” She set the beer down. “You deserve it after that show you put on. The ladies really liked you.”

  “Thanks, Jeans.”

  “The name’s Jeanie.” She slammed the beer down in front of him with a perturbed look on her face. “Not Jeans.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because when I get this job, you’ll be seeing a lot of me and you’ll always be Jeans to me.”

  * * * * *

  Pain rolled through his shoulder as his mind returned to the present and noted the infamous shoulder punch Jeans had given him too many times over the years. Tyler’s laughs filled his ears. Jeans glared at him with that same feis
ty, defiant stare he’d just recalled.

  “That’s why you call me Jeans?”

  Jason laughed as the discomfort of confrontation settled in him. She didn’t know the half of it yet. “What can I say? You had a profound impact on me that night.”

  She blinked and a little of the heat left her voice. “I did?”

  “Yeah. I wasn’t nearly as nervous after I met you. I focused more on my moves because I wanted to impress you.”

  “Damn. I was hoping you’d banged her.”

  He’d sure wanted to. The fact he’d forgotten surprised him. Somehow seeing her night after night had eased the need to have her. No. He’d faltered a couple times but that wasn’t a story he was ready to share with Tyler—at least not with Jeanie sitting right beside them.

  For the most part he’d channeled his lust to every other woman around him. “Mike was always a protective son of a bitch with you.”

  “Yeah. I didn’t always appreciate his methods.” A sexy blush darkened her cheeks. “Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened on some of those nights if he hadn’t been such a guard dog.”

  Nights? Which nights? The need to know overwhelmed him but he backed off the urge to ask. That was a long time ago. Another lifetime. Before she’d met the love of her life and moved on.

  “Well, I’d better get back to Sheila before she comes over and stabs Goose with her knitting needles.” Jeanie looked at Tyler. “Watch yourself around her. You moving in on Mira isn’t making her too happy.”

  “What the fuck business is it of hers?”

  “What can I say? She’s Mira’s Mike.” Sheila stood gracefully and squeezed Jason’s shoulder. “It’s always good to remember those days, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. It is.”

  She walked away and Jason took a few deep breaths to knock the notions making him drunk with desire. Jeanie still mourned Dan’s death even though it’d been a couple of years since his passing.

  The man had been like a brother to Jason. He had no business thinking what he did about Jeanie.

  “He’d want her to be happy, man.”

  “Whatever.” Jason chose deflection to counter the emotions churning away inside him. “And what the fuck were you doing mentioning hooking up in front of her? That’s fucked up.”