Midnight Dream Girls 2: The Scent of Revenge Read online

  Midnight Dream Girls 2: The Scent of Revenge

  By

  Savannah Madanelle

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Midnight Dream Girls 2: The Scent of Revenge

  Copyright© 2006 Savannah Madanelle

  ISBN: 978-1-60088-086-5

  Cover Artist: Anne Cain

  Editor: Melanie Noto

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  Cobblestone Press, LLC

  www.cobblestone-press.com

  Dedication

  As always, this book is dedicated first and foremost to my biggest patron of the arts, my supportive, wonderfully inspiring husband. It’s also dedicated to my mother, whose well meaning nagging about her grandchildren formed the inspiration for this heroine’s mother.

  Love you, Mom, thanks for reading all my work!

  Chapter One

  She’d dressed so carefully for tonight. As soon as Morgan Fremont entered the bone thumping atmosphere of the Midnight Saloon, she knew she’d chosen just the right outfit to help her both fit in and stand out. Her tight, hot pink tank top and faded hip hugger jeans fit in with the clothing of every other woman in the bar, yet served to show off her tanned body at its best. And tonight, she needed all the help she could get.

  Once again immersed in the world she knew all too well, she tried to ignore the familiar smells of alcoholic drinks, cigarette smoke, and perfume. The bar was already packed, though it was only eight o’clock. Business is brisk here, so the rumors around town must be true, she thought.

  Or at least partly true. She’d yet to see what the main attraction was for this place. But with a crowd like this, Morgan knew the rest of the stories must also be true. Only one thing would bring such a widely diversified range of ages and tastes to a saloon.

  Or rather, six things, she corrected herself as the stars of the Midnight Saloon climbed on top of the bar.

  All around her, the crowd began to chant the letters “M-D-G”, growing steadily louder until Morgan was sure they were in violation of local noise codes. Someone turned up the music so it could be heard over the crowd, filling the bar with the sounds of a newly famous female country singer belting out lyrics about finding a party.

  In perfect unison, the six Midnight Dream Girls hit matching poses, grabbing their heads and rolling them around so their hair swung through the air like six different colors of streaming clouds. Morgan studied every move and appearance with a practiced eye, searching for similarities and differences between each dancer. Looking for anything that would tell her she wouldn’t fit in among them. All appeared young, the oldest probably still in her early twenties; some were tanned, while others were creamy skinned with freckles. Two blondes, three brunettes, and one with ebony hair, all of varying lengths and styles. Good. Her mid-back length, dark brown hair and tanned skin tone would fit right in.

  Then she watched their synchronized dance moves. Excellent body tone seemed to be a requirement due to the matching uniforms they wore, as most of their bodies were revealed in cleavage enhancing black leather crop tops, black dance briefs, and inner-thigh-revealing black leather chaps. But wearing such a uniform would be no problem for Morgan as long as she didn’t have to take anything off. She’d been there, done that, and had no intention of going back if she could help it.

  After the dancers ended their routine to rousing applause by grabbing one leg and holding it straight up in the air against their shoulders, the short redhead took the microphone from a bartender below.

  “Hey, all you gals,” she cried out over the loudspeakers. “I know you wanna strut your sexy stuff up here, too. So who’ll volunteer to perform for our next amateur performance?”

  Hearing her cue, Morgan nudged her way through the wolf whistling patrons to the bar, tapped a big man’s shoulder, and nodded towards the bar’s scratched surface. With a grin nearly hidden by his bushy dark beard, he moved out of the way, allowing her room to climb up onto the narrow makeshift dance floor. She smiled her thanks, ignored the other women trying to jiggle their hips to the techno beat for their men, and moved into one of her most popular dance routines.

  Just as she had with her last job, Morgan didn’t give a damn about the ogling stares she drew. She was here tonight for a reason, and one reason only…to get a job as the newest Midnight Dream Girl. So she raised her hands up over her head to give everyone a good view of her ample breasts in their tight pink encasing. Eyes closed, Morgan concentrated on the slow beat of the music while letting her hands slide down her cheeks and neck, over her breasts in a light caress, to her stomach. Her hips smoothly circled counterclockwise the entire time, while her feet subtly turned her in the same direction to give every man in the room a view of every angle of her body. Whatever it took, she intended to get a job here tonight, even if she had to start a riot. Her man was counting on her. No way could she let him down and come home without a job.

  Dimly she heard the crowd’s raucous cheers heating up, growing louder than they’d been even for the Dream Girls. Good. She had their attention. Now she just needed to make sure the bar owner knew it.

  When she’d completed a couple of slow spins in place and was once more facing her audience, Morgan slid her hands down the front of her thighs to her knees, then suddenly popped her knees open into a wide stance. With her hands still braced on her knees, Morgan let her head fall forward, her hair a dark curtain hiding her face while she shifted her shoulders and rib cage from side to side in time with the music. She threw her head into a quick roll, causing her dark hair to spin out in a cloud around her face as she’d seen the Dream Girls do. Then, just to show she could do something a little more complicated, she hit her knees and repeatedly touched the bar’s rough surface in an imaginary clockwise circle around her. The circle complete, she reached up, grabbed the sides of her head in mock passion, circled her head around once more, crossed her forearms up in front of her face, then threw her head and arms behind her and arched her back to point her breasts up to the ceiling. If that didn’t work to get her a job here, she and her man were both sunk.

  “Wow, I asked for amateurs, not pros trying to take over my bar,” the redhead joked into the microphone as someone faded out the music.

  Pulled back to reality, Morgan shifted her body weight backwards and rolled up to her feet in one last practiced move. Though she hoped to never have to dance exotically again, she did intend to use every skill learned from her last job to get her a new job here tonight if possible. After all, the love of her life was counting on her to succeed tonight. If she didn’t…well, she’d think about that possibility later if she had to.

  “Hon, what’s your name?” The redhead walked down the bar with practiced steps as the other volunteer dancers were helped off the “stage” by cheering men. As the woman with the microphone neared, Morgan could’ve sworn that the hairs on her arms stood up. This woman had some kind of magnetism about her that made Morgan feel both warm and chilled at the same time. Once she reached Morgan’s side, she held up the mike so Morgan could reply.

  “Hi, my name’s Morgan Fremont.” Morgan ignored the eerie feeling that emanated from the bar owner and allowed her naturally low voice to come out a little huskier than usual, hoping it would score more points in her favor with the male patrons below the
m. “I’m not here to take over your bar, ma’am. But I do need a job.” Had that come out right? Damn, she hoped her desperation didn’t show through too much. But she couldn’t afford to miss her chance by beating around the bush.

  The redhead eyed her with a small smile, hiding her surprise while searching Morgan’s face for who knew what, then turned back to the crowd. “What do y’all say? Think she’d make a good Midnight Dream Girl?”

  The crowd erupted in roars and whistles, but Morgan didn’t feel any more confident after their response. After all, the crowd might’ve liked her little performance, but would the bar owner?

  “Well, Morgan Fremont, my name’s Brianna Cochoran. I’m the owner of the Midnight Saloon. Come see me after the bar closes tonight and we’ll talk, all right?” Brianna continued to speak into the microphone for the entire bar to hear. Her answer earned more yells from the crowd. Nodding with a smile, Morgan reached down to grasp two of the eagerly offered hands below her for support before jumping down. She’d done the best she could. All that was left to do was wait until the end of the evening.

  Jonathan Dexter watched with a private grin as the dark beauty hopped down into a throng of new admirers. He tilted his head back and chugged down some cooling beer, trying to ignore how his curly dark blond hair flopped irritatingly around his ears. There were much more interesting things to think about than his constant need for a haircut.

  Her name is Morgan Fremont, huh? She was certainly a hot one. It didn’t take too much of a stretch in his imagination to picture him and her in this place once it was empty. Animalistic or not, he’d love to be lying on that bar and have her perform that little routine over him. Preferably without an audience.

  Too bad she was obviously a hot one with an agenda. Pushing all fantasies from his mind, Jonathan leaned against the crimson back wall and began to peel the label off his beer bottle. Much as his dick might need the relief of banging some willing woman after months of non-stop traveling in solitude, his heart needed a whole lot more. He didn’t have time for strategic women, no matter how much sex their bodies cried out for on top of a particular scratched up bar top. He had an agenda of his own, one that’d consumed him for the last ten years. And he was finally getting closer to reaching that goal. Soon, he promised himself. Soon, he’d have the answers his rage demanded.

  Then again, if Morgan Fremont managed to get a job at this place, he just might have a few things to discuss with her after all. She was worth keeping an eye on.

  * * * * *

  It was hard for Morgan to wait through the next few hours until the bar closed down at half past two in the morning. By then, she’d had to duck more than a few groping hands from overzealous intoxicated fans. Using her years of bartending experience, she politely but firmly turned down every offer, both polite and crude, that came her way. After all, she already had a lifelong commitment with a man. She didn’t need more complications.

  When at last the big black bear of a bouncer everyone called Joe had cleared out the entire building, Morgan approached the bar and took a seat on one of the sticky wooden bar stools. More than a few of the staff glanced her way with a variety of expressions while they cleaned away the crowd’s mess of bottles, glasses, napkins, and puddles. She responded to every glance, both welcoming and suspicious, with a polite smile and a head nod of acknowledgement.

  After ten minutes of excruciating waiting, Brianna came out of a back room and headed straight for her.

  “All right, Ms. Fremont. You got my attention with your ballsy move earlier. And you’re still here, which means you’re still interested in a job, I guess.” Brianna sat on a stool beside her, propping her black booted feet up on the brass rail that skirted the bottom edge of the bar. “I’m sure you noticed that the Midnight Dream Girls don’t just dance here?”

  Morgan nodded. “They’re bartenders, waitresses, and occasional diplomatic peacemakers, too.”

  This earned a grin from the saloon owner. “Yep. I’ve looked over the books just to be sure, and financially we can fit in another Dream Girl. You’ve obviously got the dance skills for the job. And I saw you handle several persistent guys with finesse tonight. But can you tend a bar?”

  “Yes ma’am. Got two years’ experience under my belt.” Morgan resisted the urge to fidget by pressing her hands against the top of each thigh.

  “Prove it. Make me a kamikaze, please.” Brianna leaned back on her stool, relaxing against its plain wooden backrest with her arms crossed over her chest, and smiled.

  “Yes ma’am.” Morgan slid off her stool, circled the bar, and breathed out a silent sigh of relief to see that it was set up just like the last two she’d worked behind. Relaxing into the routine movements she’d come to know so well, she made Brianna’s drink as requested. But she chose not to show off the extra flourishes; it’d been a while since she’d tended a bar. All she needed right now was to drop a glass, or worse, a liquor bottle she couldn’t afford to pay for.

  Brianna watched her during the process, so still she could have been a wax figure in a museum. And again, that strange, hair raising sensation rose up within Morgan that Brianna seemed to cause, but Morgan focused on what she was here for and managed to ignore the weird feeling until she could finish making Brianna’s drink. Once Morgan set the completed concoction before her, Brianna tested it with a small sip.

  Morgan caught her breath and held it in her lungs as she waited for the verdict. Had she forgotten to put in anything? She’d made at least a few thousand kamikazes over the years, but she was also super stressed right now.

  Brianna nodded slowly. “All right, you did good. One last question, though…can you pick up a dance routine pretty quickly?”

  Morgan’s eyebrows lifted. She’d never been a member of a dance team or had any formal training. All her dance skills came from the sink-or-swim experience of becoming an exotic dancer. Who knew how long it might take her to learn a dance routine?

  “Pamela?” Brianna yelled out, then took another sip of her drink.

  From the direction of the back room, one of the Midnight Dream Girls approached them, her long blonde hair swaying at the small of her back from the movement of her leggy strides. Exactly the type of look Morgan had always secretly wished she had. The one time she’d tried to dye her hair blonde back in junior high, she’d only succeeded in turning it a putrid shade of green.

  “Pamela, can you teach her the first two eight counts of Party?” Brianna said, staring at the blonde before them.

  It could have been Morgan’s imagination, brought on by the stress of the moment perhaps, but she could have sworn that some kind of weird look flashed between the two women. And when Pamela looked at her, well, it gave her the creeps and made goose bumps flare up over her skin.

  It had to be nerves causing her to have all these eerie sensations around these two women tonight. She focused instead on the moves Pamela showed her and did her best to perform them exactly as shown. But she was still stumbling through them when Brianna told them to stop. Morgan’s heartbeat tripped a little, then sped up. She tried to calm herself by breathing slowly through her nose, but it didn’t help much. If she didn’t get this job…

  “I’ve seen enough.” The bar owner drained the bottom of her glass, then set it onto the bar with a loud thunk. “You’re hired.”

  Morgan wanted to jump up and down with happiness. This was the best news she’d gotten in a long time. But she managed to restrain herself. After all, her previous boss had been a real dickhead, treating the dancers like cattle there for his personal pleasure after hours. Thankfully Brianna was a woman, so Morgan probably wouldn’t have to worry about being fired again for refusing to put out for her employer. Then again, Morgan remembered some of the stories she’d heard from fellow employees over the years about how nasty female bosses could be, too. Well, she’d play this one by ear and do her best to stay under the entire staff’s radar for as long as possible.

  “Thank you, ma’am. When do I start?”
Morgan shook Brianna’s hand, remembering at the last second not to pump it up and down like a jack handle. She also wondered how soon she could be paid, but she couldn’t ask this question right now.

  “Pamela, when can you teach her the—” Something flickered over Pamela’s face, and Brianna stopped speaking for a moment.

  In confusion, Morgan shifted her gaze from one woman to the other. Had she somehow ticked off Pamela, and the blonde was silently telling her boss she didn’t want to teach Morgan the dance routines?

  But when she looked back at Pamela, the blonde wasn’t even looking at Brianna. Pamela was staring at Morgan, and damn if the tip of her tongue didn’t dart out to slowly lick her lips.

  Oh hell, Morgan thought. She looks like she wants to eat me alive! Or maybe just eat me out.

  Chapter Two

  Morgan returned to her new, tiny one bedroom apartment with a tired smile. She’d gotten a job. Although there had been that strange look from Pamela and Brianna’s equally strange decision to teach Morgan the dance routines herself this week instead of Pamela. Hopefully Pamela was just feeling a little irritated with how Morgan had gotten the job, and would get over it with time. Whatever Pamela’s problem was, Morgan refused to let it dampen her spirits. She’d gotten a job! And not just any job, but one with decent pay that would finally allow her to stay at home during the day and focus on the two loves of her life…her romance writing career, and her Joey.

  Speaking of which, she started to head across the hall with her man in mind, then made a U-turn right back to her apartment after she caught a whiff of herself. Damn, she smelled like an ashtray someone had dumped a beer into. She couldn’t go to him smelling like this. She’d have to shower and put on clean clothes first.