The Substitute Stripper by Ari Thatcher Page B

into the lodge parking lot, Bree sat up and sighed with relief. With any luck, Sunday would be sunny and they could leave in the daylight.
    Ash carried their luggage and Bree held up her dress bag, away from the dirty snow piled near the walkway. He took care of registration and got their key cards and led her back out into the covered passageway to the wing where their room was.
    “ Who plans a wedding in the winter in the mountains?” she muttered, holding the lapels of her coat closed.
    “ Mark and Susie are avid skiers.”
    “ I like to ski, too, but behind a boat. And with no snow around.”
    He grinned. “I’ll take a Jet Ski any day.”
    He opened the door to their room and let her enter. She glanced at the queen-sized bed and wondered if they ’d get any use out of it. She was willing, and she thought he was. She’d even packed a skimpy new bit of lingerie to help things along if he wasn’t sure about her interest.
    As she hung her dress and unpacked, he checked his cell phone for messages. After listening to his voicemail, he swore and tossed the phone on the bed. Grabbing his garment bag from where he ’d draped it over a chair, he strode past her to the closet.
    “ Bad news?”
    “ Nah, just something I should have expected. I’m not the guy you want to plan your bachelor party.”
    “ Uh-oh, what happened?”
    “ Nothing major. The stripper cancelled, is all. She’s afraid to drive up the mountain and get stuck in the snow.”
    “ I’m sorry, Ash. That sucks. But you have movies and lots of drinks, right?”
    “ Yeah, but that’s not a real party. That’s a bunch of frat boys hanging out.”
    Bree walked to the mini fridge and looked inside. No alcohol, but there was plenty of bottled water. She opened on e and sat on the edge of the bed. “How close is the town?”
    “ I don’t know. But the only strippers I found online were off the mountain. I guess there isn’t much work for one in a town of three-hundred people.”
    She stared at her bottle, swirling the water around as he r thoughts wandered. She’d bet Ash didn’t know how she put herself through art school. And if he did, he wouldn’t have the nerve to ask her to help. But no, that would be a really bad idea. She shoved the thought aside.
    Ash opened his laptop and began tapping keys. He had to be hunting for entertainment. She remembered the look on his face when he mentioned his ex-wife, and how he hadn’t been good enough for her. He really wanted to make an impression on his friends, let them see he was more than a gamer boy.
    This was important to him. If she had any heart at all, she would help. He might not even accept her offer. But she had to ask. “Um, Ash? If you don’t find another stripper, I have an idea.”
    He looked up, his expression blank. She stood, set down her water and straightened her sweater as she walked toward him. “Did I ever tell you how I put myself through college?”
    Shaking his head, he asked, “What does that have to do with the party?”
    Should she do it? It couldn ’t hurt. Grabbing the hem of her sweater in both hands, she lifted it over her head and tossed it in his face. Strutting closer, she turned his chair, planted her hands on the arms and leaned forward, allowing her breasts to practically fall out of her demi-bra. “I was a stripper.”
    Ash ’s gaze locked on her breasts and he appeared to stop breathing. She’d always been proud of her D-cup implants. Best investment she ever made. Even after she quit dancing and got a “real” job, she loved the way her clothes fit. She was tall enough to carry them off without looking plastic, and her tiny waist made them look that much bigger.
    When he still didn ’t speak, Bree stood and reached behind her back for the hooks of her bra. “Should I show you a sample routine?”
    He shook his head. “No, God no. If you do that I won’t make it to the party.” He glanced at his watch. “I don’t have much choice but to use