Free TopGuns by Cara Carnes Taylor Cole Justin Whitfield Page B

would blush or look away.
    What the hell?
    Uneasiness kept him company as he made his way to the area
he’d been told to meet the coordinator, Matthew Martinson. A middle-aged man
wearing a tuxedo paced back and forth in the corridor when Tyler turned the
corner. The man glanced at his watch and crossed his arms.
    “Good. You’re here.” Condescension filled his voice as he
regarded Tyler. “You aren’t exactly what I expected but I suppose you’ll have
to do. Remove your shirt and come with me.”
    “My shirt, sir?”
    Martinson sighed heavily and whirled in a fit of
frustration. “A few of our guests chose to bring their spouses to this dinner
and despite my best efforts, everyone else seems to feel we need to provide
some eye candy for the wives.”
    That didn’t sound good.
    Tyler remained silent and followed the guy into the serving
area behind what he assumed was the banquet hall for the convention center. Waiters
and waitresses dressed in black-and-white uniforms ran in and out of the room
with the efficiency of an ant colony.
    He followed Martinson over to a large round table with a
missing center. The table had been fitted with wheels at the base. An assortment
of chocolates, cakes and other sweets centered on blue doilies on small white
plates lined the circular surface.
    “This will be your station.” Martinson motioned toward the
dessert area. “Your task is simple. Push the cart around, try to engage the women
with charm rather than distasteful leering. This is a black-tie dinner—not a…”
    The judgmental prick let the rest of the sentence dangle
between them unspoken. Although he’d dealt with a lot of assholes and snooty
people over the years, Tyler hadn’t ever felt quite so…dirty. He chewed on the
“fuck you” lodged in his mouth for a moment. Money talked.
    He could tolerate just about anything if the result was
worth it. In this case, it was. Barely. He nodded and crawled under the table
to take his station.
    “Oh, and whatever tips you receive will be given to me. I’ll
ensure they go into the charity donation we’re collecting.” He sneered. “It’ll
be your small contribution to our cause.”
    Tyler ignored the obvious jibe and got to work. The sooner
this was over, the better. Uncomfortable situations were a hell of a lot easier
to digest when a buddy had your back. Solo gigs like this sucked donkey balls
in the worst way.
    The room hummed with conversation. His skin crawled with
leering glances and overt stares. All the nights he’d taken the stage or danced
on a side stage he’d never felt like this—objectified. Each snicker or
suppressed chuckle from a so-called lady fortified his resolve to make it
through the night.
    Giggles and smiles usually meant interest—attraction he
could use to his advantage. They made him the hunter. Tonight he didn’t even
seem to be the prey. A full trek of the room took longer than expected. He’d
had to reload desserts a few times, but that hadn’t offered much of a respite.
Well-meaning waiters and waitresses in the back had quickly restocked him.
    A few carnal glimpses had brightened the situation, but not
for long. Nothing would come of them at this event. The lights dimmed and he
made his way to the back corner. Martinson nodded in approval.
    “You’ve done well so far. You only have a couple more hours
left.” He motioned toward the stage. “Now this is what I call eye candy.”
    Tyler wanted to push the cart to a different corner. Hell,
he’d rather keep working the floor of judgmental asses and their haughty wives
rather than deal with the man who’d hired him. But the area was hard to
maneuver in the dim lighting and it was clear everyone was done eating for now.
    A show was starting.
    Shock riddled him motionless when the Dallas Cowboy
cheerleaders took the stage. Great. The sexiest women around were here to
entertain en masse and he’d been sent in alone to deal with the ladies. What
hope he had of the night turning