Ugh, he was so over tonight. What the hell was wrong with him? He was screwing up a perfectly hot routine because of the beefcake bartender. That was so unlike him. What if Frank was watching? The last thing Kit needed was to mess things up with his new employer over some musclebound meathead. Okay, so Seth wasn’t just some brainless gym bunny. Yes, he was ginormous and deliciously muscled, but he was also a nice guy, which was one hell of a change from the uber alphas Kit tended to fall into bed with.

Pay attention!

Falling off his plinth because he wasn’t paying attention would do nothing for his image. Besides, Frank made it very clear before Kit signed his employment contract that he wasn’t to get involved with a club member or a staff member. If he wanted to pursue any type of relationship with either one, he’d have to hang up his sparkly blue shorts for good, and he loved his job too much to do that for a night or two of fabulous fucking.

Kit moved his hips in time to the pulsing beat before placing his hands on his thighs and sliding them down his legs to grip his ankles, his ass in the air. He glanced at the bar and huffed. Who cared if Seth went home with the blond hottie in the Armani suit who couldn’t make Seth’s toes curl the way Kit obviously could? Whatever. It was none of his business who Seth took home. Why was he even thinking about Seth?

For weeks, Seth had watched Kit dance. He thought he was subtle about it, but Kit always knew. He could feel Seth’s eyes on him as if they were the man’s large, rough hands. What would those hands feel like against his skin, running over every inch of his body? And that mouth? Fuck, the man had the most amazing mouth. Everything about him made Kit hard, from the dark curls of his soft-looking hair Kit wanted to wrap his fingers around to his gorgeous olive skin that Kit was desperate to lick.

Oh, my God, he needed to stop. Now was so not the time to be getting a boner. As it was, his shorts were so damned tight they were strangling his cock. Stupid Seth and his stupid manly muscles. What, the guy couldn’t find a damn shirt that fit? How did the sleeves not rip apart whenever he reached for something behind the bar? Were they made of the same magical stretchy material as the Incredible Hulk’s pants?

“Kit!”

Why the hell was the big oaf yelling?

Oh shit!

He was falling.

Kit miscalculated, his sneakered foot landing on the edge of the plinth. He let out a yelp and braced himself, knowing it was going to hurt like a son of a bitch, and he’d be lucky if he didn’t break something. He hit something hard, but it wasn’t the floor.

Opening his eyes, Kit stared up at the black ceiling and heard the murmur of the crowd gathering around him. Several hands reached out to take his arms and help him up. When he was on his feet, he dropped his gaze to the floor.

“Seth!” Kit dropped to his knees beside the big lug. “Are you okay?” How the hell had he gotten there so damned quick? Then again, Kit did have a pretty long way to fall. Frank was going to have his balls for this. He’d spent countless hours training and practicing on that stupid thing, sat through lecture after lecture on the importance of safety. Never, in all the years Sapphire Sands had been open had a dancer been injured while doing a routine until Kit.

“I’m okay,” Seth said loudly over the beat of the music as he sat up. He felt the back of his head and winced. “I saw you getting too close to the edge and got this bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.”

A group of men helped Seth to his feet, and that’s when Kit realized they were in the center of a large crowd. Oh my God, he’d fallen off the fucking plinth in the middle of the dance floor for all of Frank’s high-profile club members to witness! Heat flared through him, exploding over his skin. Mortified didn’t begin to cover it.

“I’m sorry. Excuse me.” Kit hurried off the dance floor, ignoring the sound of someone calling after him, most likely Seth. He ran for the club’s back of house area, slammed through the double doors, and headed for the hall that would lead to the employee lounge. He’d made such a fool of himself in front of everyone. The club members, his co-workers, Seth….

“Kit, wait!” Seth caught up to him, and Kit couldn’t even look him in the eye. He spun around to tell Seth he wanted to be alone when a dark shadow loomed over them both, and Kit gasped.

Frank.

Kit and Seth froze, eyes wide. Frank stood as imposing as ever in his usual all-black designer suit, black shirt, tie, and black oxfords. He narrowed his eyes, and Kit squeaked, instinctively ducking behind Seth. Not that he believed Frank would ever hurt him, but the man looked like he belonged in some action flick playing the role of a tragic, yet sexy assassin, or a Viking swinging his battle ax against his enemies. When he spoke, his gravelly voice was a low growl that brooked no argument.

“In my office, both of you. Now.”