Those eyes had seen many things.Not a lot of them good.Andquite a number of those not-good things wereverybad.
I got that.Boy did I get that.
But there was even more.
Another person might find his eyes frightening, that seen itall and didn’t give a shit about any of it look that wasn’t cold andimpersonal, just cynical and sly.
I did not find it frightening.
I found it captivating.
He took a step into the room but lifted his arm to the sideto indicate the door and said in an invitation that wasn’t exactly that, it wasmore a command, “Daisy.”
There was something about the mix of his gentlemanly mannerand his commanding tone (and, let’s face it, presence) that made me lift my assoff the chair I was sitting on and move his way.
He was not an obstacle to getting out the door so he didn’tmove.
However, hedidmove after I cleared it because hefollowed me.
Then he put his hand light on the small of my back.
No pressure.Just a touch.
Even at “just a touch,” I felt my shoulders get tight.But Ididn’t want to expose my reaction, give him something to read about me, makehim think I was afraid or protecting myself, especially after what he knewhappened to me and the fool I’d made of myself at Wash Park.
And as we walked down the hall, into the club, and towardthe stairs that led up to Smithie’s office, my tension at being touched becamesomething else as the feel of the touch penetrated.
He wasn’t pushing me.He wasn’t guiding me.
He was a gentleman walking a lady through a strip club theway a gentleman should, regardless it was a strip club in which she was astripper.
I started feeling funny again.
His touch left me as we climbed the stairs and I wasembarrassingly aware that I was still slightly stiff from what had happened tome, not to mention my ass might be in line with his eyes.
I motored right through that and stopped at the top landingoutside the door, looking down as he climbed the last two steps.
He put his hand right to the handle and murmured, “Smithieisn’t here.”
He pushed the door open but didn’t move.
He waited there and did it with his eyes on me.
It was then I realized he wanted me to go in before him.
He’d opened the door.
For me.
I started feeling funnier and quickly walked into theoffice.
I didn’t go far, stopping in the middle and turning to him.
He didn’t go far either, but oddly, he stepped away from thedoor and moved across the space.
In other words, he wasn’t barring me in.If I wanted toleave, I had a straight shot.He wasn’t in my way.
Oh my.
