Just His Taste by Candice Gilmer Page B

around in barely there bikinis, taking drink orders and dancing away from grabby customers. In the dark, the carpeted floor was hard to see, but Jason wasn’t sure he’d want to anyway.
    â€œOh my,” Ava said. Ava clung to him, but he wondered if it was her acting the part or utter revulsion.
    â€œI know.”
    They eased inside, and Jason gestured to a booth in the corner. It had a good vantage point to see most of the bar, and a clear view. Most of the patrons sat closer to the very old and unkempt stage, the pulsing music intensified by hard, strobing lights as a dancer wound her way around a pole, shaking what God gave her.
    â€œUm, do you see your guy?” Ava asked.
    Jason shook his head. He stretched his arm around her, pulling her close. “So we can talk,” he said, practically in her ear.
    Yeah, that was his story.
    The only sweet smell in the bar was her.
    She scanned around. “How can you see anything?”
    â€œThat’s probably the point,” Jason replied. The lights pulsed and shook, making identifying anyone in the place harder than it needed to be.
    The latest dancer had spotlights on her, though it seemed like she was trying to keep in the preprogrammed patterns with her dance moves. And wasn’t doing well.
    A waitress came over and rattled off the club’s specials for the night. Jason ordered a soda while Ava ordered bourbon.
    He raised his eyebrow. “Really?”
    â€œWell, something’s gotta soften the blow.”
    He smirked, wishing he had his own bourbon.
    Because this could be a long night.

Chapter Sixteen
    They’d been in the nasty, seedy strip club over an hour, and no luck at finding Jason’s guy.
    Ava was about done with the place. She’d brushed a little magic over the seat, just to disinfect the thing before they sat, but she still had the heebie-jeebies.
    Of course, she was done about three minutes after she walked in. She’d been in some nasty places in her time, but this one was beyond the pale. And it wasn’t like she could talk to Jason much. They couldn’t hear each other at all.
    Not unless he practically nibbled on her ear, anyway.
    Which he did several times.
    And every damn time it sent a Herculean rush through her. Not the best situation to be in.
    I’m his Fairy Godmother.
    I’m his Fairy Godmother.
    I’m his Fairy Godmother.
    Reciting the chant didn’t help the slow building of sexual tension inside her. Especially since this was far stronger than anything she’d felt with anyone. Cupid included.
    Cupid.
    Ugh, she was going to rip that horrid god a new one when she got ahold of him. How dare he stab her with one of his arrows? Ava knew she didn’t have very much in the way of feelings for him, but knowing that what little compassion she did have had wound up being because he’d slipped her some magic?
    That was horrid.
    Disgusting.
    Pathetic.
    If she hadn’t drunk the coffee, she would have never realized that the feelings—however slight—were manufactured.
    Ava picked up her bourbon and tossed every bit of the amber liquid down. Because, yeah, she needed a drink. Hell, getting drunk might not be a bad thing.
    Jason leaned in for another comment, whispering in her ear, but this time wasn’t quite so enticing, only three-quarters of her body lit up.
    He thought he saw his mark and was going to follow him into the bathroom. She smiled and nodded, happy for a moment of air between them. As soon as he moved out, she erected a shield and got another dose of the antidote. This time, she put it in his pop and magically refilled the glass so he’d think it was new. Because she had to get that serum in him.
    And hope that he didn’t have as strong a reaction to it as she did.
    She watched the dancer currently on stage finish her number, stripped down to nothing but a thin rope around her waist to collect the money.
    Ava found herself unable to turn away.