Desiring the Dancer (Risqué Book 1) Read online

  Desiring the Dancer

  (The Risqué Series #1)

  by Lilly Avalon

  Copyright © 2020 Jessica Tate

  All Rights Reserved

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please go to the retailer of your choice and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Cover design and ebook formatting by Jessica Tate at Honey Lit Author Assistant

  Edited by Stephanie Parent

  Visit my website at http://www.lillyavalon.com

  Table of Contents

  Books by Lilly Avalon

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Enticing the Escort Chapter One

  Books by Lilly Avalon

  The Resist Series:

  Resist

  Longing

  Standalone Novels:

  Unexpected

  Can't Stay Away

  Compilations:

  Irresistibly Yours

  The Risqué Series:

  Desiring the Dancer

  Enticing the Escort

  Seducing the Star

  Dedication

  To all my fellow authors.

  Never give up on your dream.

  Desiring the Dancer

  Carlie Coleman is not looking forward to her stepsister’s bachelorette party.

  It was supposed to be a simple affair with a small group of Valerie’s closest friends at their parents’ beach house. Instead, the guests have tripled, there’s a fancy caterer, and at some point there will be strippers.

  It’s going to be a disaster… until she meets the cute waiter.

  Aiden Carter is sweet and she’s smitten. They can’t stop staring at each other from across the room. Their mutual attraction is undeniable. Before the night is over, she discovers something else.

  The cute waiter is also the entertainment.

  Chapter One

  "When's my stripper getting here?"

  Good Lord. I pull the last two champagne flutes from the cupboard and set them on the marble counter on the kitchen island. Holding back a heavy sigh, I reply, "I thought you didn't want one."

  Valerie rolls her eyes, brushing by me as she walks to the refrigerator. "I changed my mind. Can't a person change their mind, Carlie?"

  Of course they can. It's just funny that you waited until the night of your bachelorette party to do so. "Yes, you're allowed to change your mind."

  "So, you'll get me one?"

  "What?" I spin around, my jaw practically dropping.

  "What do you mean?" She grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and chugs it.

  Um, we're less than two hours from the party and I'm the one who's supposed to locate, book, and pay for a stripper? I'd like to say she's unbelievable, but this isn't out of the ordinary for my stepsister. "I wouldn't even know where to start," I say finally.

  "I'm sure you could Google it. Oh!" Valerie snaps her fingers. "Myra got one for Cora for her birthday last year. Maybe she can put you in touch with them." She waves a hand and walks outside, her blonde hair flying behind her. "Thanks, sis!"

  I stare after her, watching her walk down to the beach. Frustration builds up inside of me. It's unfair of Valerie to expect all of this from me. I doubt she'd be willing to put any effort if I were the one getting married. After all, I'm only her stepsister.

  I make a fist and release it. Gotta focus. First, I need to call Myra, hope to God she has that number on hand, and cross my fingers they're available for a last-minute booking.

  Myra answers after one ring. "What does Bridezilla need now?"

  Valerie's best friend already knows the drill. "According to her, you're the one who can put me in touch with a stripper."

  "I knew it! I knew she would want one last minute."

  "Do you have a number for them?"

  "Oh, don't worry about it, dear. I had a contingency plan for one just in case. I'll take care of it."

  A wave of relief washes over me. I don't know a thing about strippers, other than the fact that they take their clothes off, obviously. Also, that some are themed, like firefighters and policemen. "Thanks, Myra. You're a lifesaver."

  Now that the whole stripper thing is taken care of, I can get back to work on setting everything up for the party. Valerie said it's going to be a small, intimate gathering of her closest friends, but her estimate is likely way off. Especially given that she insisted on using her father’s fancy beach house for the party. Best case scenario, it's double her original number. As I stare at the glasses on the counter, I decide the smartest thing to do is assume she meant triple that number and get more glasses out.

  When the doorbell rings five minutes later, I'm expecting to see one of Valerie's friends. Instead I open the door to find a woman with short jet-black hair, wearing a sharp navy suit. Behind her are a couple of vans and two cars in the driveway. Several men and women are standing around outside the vehicles and talking amongst themselves.

  Blinking a few times, I say, "Uh… hello? How can I help you?"

  The well-dressed woman says, “Hello, I’m Henrietta Livingston from Catering Limited. We’re here to cater the bachelorette party for a”—she glances down at her clipboard—“Ms. Valerie Coleman.”

  After staring dumbfounded for a few seconds, I say, "Wait, cater?" Since when is a bachelorette party catered? I thought her father already had the refrigerator and wine cellar stocked before we arrived.

  "Yes, ma'am." She holds out a clipboard. "Are you the bride to be?"

  I glance at the paper and see Valerie's name on it. "No, I'm her stepsister, Carlie."

  "Well then, I guess we are at the right place."

  "I guess you are. Come in." I step back, holding the door open for them.

  She tells the people at the van to begin bringing things inside. They file in, some carrying covered dishes and boxes of other items. As I follow them into the kitchen, I send a text to Valerie. Your caterer is here.

  Oh, good! They're early.

  Thank you for telling me earlier.

  Sorry, I thought I told you.

  Of course she didn’t tell me until after the fact. Leave it to my stepsister to not only spring this on me, but also not even be around when they arrive.

  “Sorry about the counter full of glasses,” I tell Henrietta. “My sister didn’t inform me that you were coming and I started to get prepared.”

  “Don’t worry about it, um...”

  “Carlie.”

  “Yes, Carlie.” She flutters her hand, gesturing at the huge kitchen. “We’ll move things around as needed as long as this is okay with you.”

  “Of course, go right ahead.” I watch everyone move around the room with ease. It’s almost as though they’ve been here before by the way everything seems to flow. Must be a really good catering company. “I’ll leave you to it. If you need anything, I’ll be around.”

  Walking away, I can’t help but wonder if she ran all of this by her father before setting it up. I’m sure he doesn’t care all that much about the expense, but I wonder if he’s aware of the fact that she wants men to strip off their clothes and let it all ha
ng out in his vacation home. Knowing Valerie, she likely told him it would be a low-key affair with some friends. It’s the impression I got when she invited me to come last month.

  As I wander through the house, I’m still overcome with how impressive it is. It’s the second time I’ve been here since our parents married. I feel out of place both in this house and the one they’re living in right now. My mom and I never lived in such fancy places. We rented a smaller house much closer to the Nevada border than coastal Southern California. While I do enjoy having the ocean nearby, part of me misses the quiet life away from the hustle and bustle. My mom is happy, though, so I can’t complain.

  The doorbell rings again after I start to walk upstairs, so I go back down to see who’s out there now. Did Valerie hire a fire eater or a magician, too? When I open the door, it’s only a couple of Valerie’s friends, Cora and Felicia. They’re already dressed to impress, both wearing party dresses and carrying tiny presents. The two of them squeal when they see me, giving me a group hug and asking where the bride is.

  “Oh my God, you guys are here already?” Valerie asks as she races toward them. They all hug and give cheek kisses, talking so quickly I can barely register the words.

  “What do you need help with?” Cora asks.

  Holding up her index finger, the almost-bride says, “First of all, I have to check to make sure the caterer is on schedule. Then I’ll need one of you to help Carlie move some furniture around in the sitting room and the other one to come upstairs with me to help me get ready.”

  Wait, what? “Why do we need to move furniture?” I ask as I glance over to the room in question. It’s already pretty open as it is.

  “Not just furniture, but also some of the breakables. I don’t want somebody to accidentally break one of Daddy’s heirlooms.” Her friends nod knowingly at her.

  Given the fact that there will be alcohol at this party, this is pretty smart. Hopefully we don’t have any accidents even without fragile items sitting out. Maybe moving things around in there isn’t a bad idea after all.

  “Cora, you help Carlie,” Felicia says, taking Valerie’s hair in her hands. “I want to practice my makeup and braiding skills on the bachelorette.”

  As the two of them walk arm in arm to the kitchen, a disappointed Cora follows me into the sitting room to move things around. I pick up all the figurines and vases, tucking them in the bottom cabinets of an armoire in the corner of the room. The two of us move a few chairs around to create a more open space. I’m still not sure how many of Valerie’s friends will be here tonight. Hopefully this room is big enough for them all.

  And a big enough space for… other things.

  A few more of her friends arrive and come into the room to help us. Lydia tells us that she took an interior decorating class in college and knows the art of feng shui. Since I’m the only one in the room who isn’t even dressed yet, I excuse myself and leave them to it. I’m sure they can finish it up on their own.

  Just as I’m walking away, Goldie calls out to me. “Hey,” she says with a smile. “You should leave your hair down tonight. I know you favor buns like me,” she points to the loose bun in her ash blonde hair, “but I think it’ll look great on you.”

  Out of all of Valerie’s friends, I like Goldie the best because she’s the most genuine. And she’s right. I do wear my hair up often, like I am right now. I return the smile and tell her, “You know what, I think I will.”

  Grinning, she gives me a wink and goes back to help everyone out. I finally make it up the stairs without having to answer the door for more arrivals. As I’m getting my dress for the party out of the closet, part of me wishes I didn’t have to be here for this. Yes, it’s my stepsister’s bachelorette party and I’m glad she even wanted me here in the first place. However, I’m a bit worried about how tonight will go down. Caterers, strippers, and a room full of twenty-something women drinking wine and champagne while eating hors d'oeuvres off silver platters?

  Lord, help save me from the chaos that may ensue in the next couple hours.

  Chapter Two

  Around seven o’clock is when the party officially starts. All of Valerie’s friends are here, nearly twenty of them by my count, which is more than double what I was anticipating. She must have reached out to whoever she could who was willing to drive down here.

  I followed Goldie’s advice and left my hair down for a change, which gets me a thumbs up from Goldie herself. My pastel yellow dress and matching high heels aren’t as fancy as everyone else in Chanel and Burberry, but it doesn’t bother me. Most of them wouldn’t even be able to tell mine apart from the same items purchased on Rodeo Drive.

  We’re barely half an hour into the party and Valerie has already begun asking questions about the strippers. Everyone plays dumb, pretending there won’t be any.

  Valerie isn’t buying it, though. “Look, you don’t even have to say it out loud. Just blink once if they’ll be here by eight, twice if they’ll be here by nine.”

  Myra brushes off the question and tells her to try the mini quiches that the hot waiter is bringing around the room. That’s right, there’s even a batch of extremely handsome men in suits carrying all the appetizers around. It’s almost as though this is her father’s annual Christmas party, only with one-tenth of the guests and one-fifth of the amount of alcohol being consumed.

  I’ve been nursing my glass of chardonnay ever since it was placed in my hand earlier. There needs to be at least one mostly sober person present when the night is over. More likely than not, I’ll be in charge of cleaning up while my sister befriends a cold porcelain toilet bowl. Hopefully somebody in this crowd will hold her hair. I can’t do both.

  After making more small talk than a person like me can handle, I have to leave the room for some air. I have no idea when the strippers are arriving myself, since Myra didn’t get too detailed about it after I spoke with her earlier. Honestly, I’d rather not be around when they get here, but I doubt I’ll be that lucky to escape the room before the show starts.

  It’s not that I have a problem with strippers. I don’t. Tonight I'm mostly reluctant because I’ll be among a large group of buzzed women when they get here. There’s no doubt in my mind that it’s going to be madness.

  Before I can leave the room, Valerie taps my shoulder. “Could you see if they could bring out the Château Margaux from the cellar?” She purses her lips and hands me her half-empty wineglass. “Whatever they brought out is swill. Thanks.”

  Closing my eyes slowly, I will myself to not say what I’m thinking. “I’ll let them know.” I quickly make my way to the kitchen to take care of this and get a breather.

  After passing on Valerie’s request to Henrietta in a much more palatable way, I set her glass with the rest of the empties and step outside for a minute for some fresh air. It isn’t stuffy out here like it is in the sitting room. Since I'm unable to stay here the rest of the night, I reluctantly go back inside to return to the party.

  I carefully walk around everyone as I pass through the kitchen, making sure I won’t bump into anyone. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for creating a mess. Valerie would likely hold it against me for years.

  Unfortunately, my caution doesn’t extend to the hallway, as I nearly run into one of the waiters on his way to where I just left.

  “Whoa!” He lifts the tray up out of the way, somehow keeping every glass on it level enough not to spill as I sidestep him.

  Holding my chest, I say, “I am so sorry, sir. I should’ve been paying attention to where I was going.”

  When I look up at him, I find myself staring into the brownish-green eyes of a tall, handsome man with short dark brown hair. My jaw drops, but I force myself to close it before he notices. When he smirks, I have a feeling that he did.

  Well, damn.

  “It’s okay,” he replies, voice smooth as silk. “Hazards of the job. I’ve learned how to handle it.”

  “Clearly quite well,” I say, gesturing to his tray.
“How did you do that?”

  “Lots of practice.” He smiles. “Are you the bride-to-be?”

  His gaze is so mesmerizing, I have to internally kick myself to respond. “No, I’m her stepsister.”

  “Ah, I see.” He shifts the tray to his other arm, as he tilts his head. “You don’t seem to want to be here.”

  Flinching, I say, “Is it that obvious?”

  “Maybe not to most, but I’m fairly intuitive.”

  Not to mention friendly for a waiter. Anytime I would try to make conversation with them at the Christmas party, they would nod politely as they moved on to the next group of people. I’m sure they were obligated to keep moving, but it just felt strange and made me uncomfortable. “Well, you’re spot on. I don’t mind being here and supporting her. The issue is having to make sure this party doesn’t get out of hand.”

  “Ah, yes,” he says knowingly, “the dutiful sister.”

  “I guess so.” My eyes wander back toward the sitting room and the loud chattering filtering out from it. “It’s not like I have much control over them.”

  “That’s true, but if you’re trying then that should help at least a little bit.”

  Shrugging, I say, “Let’s hope so.” I glance at the tray. “I really shouldn’t keep you from taking that back to the kitchen.” It’s probably getting heavy, and here I am wasting time talking to a hot guy.

  Wait, what?

  Okay, yes, he’s hot. And he’s nice. I can’t help the attraction to be completely honest, but I’m not sure my mom would approve of me dating a waiter from my stepsister’s bachelorette party. He probably isn’t even attracted to me anyway.

  The waiter shakes his head. “I don’t mind. I’m very much enjoying the company.”

  My eyes widen. Maybe I’m wrong about the reciprocal nature of this attraction. “Okay… as long as I’m not going to get you into any trouble.”