Oh, this will not do. I inch the tiniest bit closer, idly fanning myself with the cards. “Right? It’s like they expect me to bat my lashes and say”—I plant the most smoldering look I can on GoodFace, whose smirk gives way to a satisfying flutter of surprise—“one way to find out.”

I release the last bit on a husky whisper, every bit the femme fatale, and wait. This starchy fellow is in need of rumpling, and if burlesque has taught me anything, it’s that time and tension will undo the most rigid of squares.

It doesn’t take long. As my sultry look lingers, his surprise ebbs to something warmer, the temperature rising as his gaze shifts to take in my parted lips. When his eyes return to mine, the heat is enough to make me feel a little rumpled myself.

I snap back to perky salesgirl. “But I’d never do that. It wouldn’t be ladylike.”

The blond claps his hands, leaning back in his seat with a laugh. “You are outstanding. We’ll take two. He’ll pay.”

The designated buyer reaches for his wallet, eyes still glazed.

“And you’re Kitten?” the friendly one inquires.

“For a few nights a week.”

“Brilliant! I’m Charles, and the money clip across from me is Darcy.”

“Pleasure to meet you both.” I nod at Darcy. “Well, Money Clip, that’ll be forty dollars.”

He nods and thumbs through the bills in his wallet. I certainly do not notice the abundance of hundos, because that would be tacky, and take a quick inventory of his attire, like I might for one of the performers. No wedding band or man jewelry, thank God, and his navy suit has the cashmere sheen the Wall Streeters could only dream of.

“The cleanup thing you do,” Charles continues. “That’s where your name comes from?”

“Stage kitten? That’s correct.”

He rests his elbows on the table. “This just a stepping stone? Do you have to work your way up before getting onstage to drop the whole kit ’n’ caboodle?”

I grin at the wordplay, and at the way Darcy pauses his cash inspection to scowl at his friend, as though the inquiry was in poor taste. “It’s a blast up there, but I have zero head for choreography. And rhinestones are expensive. It would take a lot of time and money to be half as good as those gals.” I shrug. “Besides, if I were onstage, I wouldn’t get to make the rounds and meet lovely people like you. It would be tragic.”

Charles grins at Darcy. “I love this one. I love her!”

Darcy hands me one of the hundreds, and I reach to make change.

“Keep it,” he says, his voice low but light.