Sometimes I’d watch from the dancers’ hall, and when I did,I’d see that he didn’t watch the dancers (though I noticed his eyes never leftme when I was onstage).He would either be on his phone, talking to one of hismen, or going over papers he had on the table while he sipped his bourbon andbranch.
Whether Marcus showed or not, Brady stood outside thedressing room door if I was in it.If I was onstage, he stood just offstage,eyes on the club.
Yes, Marcus gave me his bodyguard.
After the night was done, if Marcus was there, Bradyescorted me out the back door and into Marcus’s limo.If he wasn’t, Bradyescorted me to my Porsche then followed me wherever I went after and thenescorted me behind closed doors once I got there.
Thatthereusually being Marcus’s place, sometimesmy place, though that was rarely.
If I had a day off and it wasn’t a weekend (and I was aheadliner and weekends were big for Smithie’s, so it was rare I had time off onthe weekends), I’d do my thing, Marcus would do his, but we’d meet for dinner.
The majority of the time he took me to fancy places.Theother times, I made him let me cook for him (yes, I’d horned in on hiskitchen).Twice, he got takeout but it wasn’t from Twin Dragon or alternategoodness like that.It was always from swanky places that didn’t even dotakeout (except for men like Marcus).
In the beginning, I slept in his big bed, him in his guestroom, or the times we were at my place, he insisted on sleeping on the couch.
Giving me hope, about two weeks ago, I got him to messingaround in his bed, and even though he stopped the good stuff, he didn’t leave.He got on his pajama bottoms (silk, drawstring, navy-blue, f-i-n-e,fine) and joined me there.
And from then on, we slept together.
Without, it was important to add,sleepingtogether.
He held me when we slept.Or he didn’t move all night if Icuddled up to him.
That was good.
But I will repeat, we slept together withoutsleepingtogether.
That was bad.
He’d slid into second base repeatedly.And he was good atthat in a big way.And once (giving me more hope), with his fingers over mypanties, he’d given me theverygood stuff.
But only once and that was it.
Mostly, he stopped the festivities before they got tooheated, turned me into his arms or let me snuggle into him, gave me a soft kisson my nose or forehead, and then we went to sleep.
And I’ll repeat something else.
That wasit.
Forover five weeks.
We’d had conversations about this.Twelve of them to beexact.(Yes, I was counting.)
And I was getting nowhere except to knowreallywell Marcus thought we should “take it slow.”
I hadn’t had a drama since my first time eating at hisdining room table.I’d never had another nightmare.Not to mention, he knew Iwas no fragile flower.And I was giving him every indication I was ready tomove us forward.
I understood why he wanted to take it slow and that wassweet.
But this wasn’t slow.
This was alarming.
Because, see, shit like this messed with a girl’s head.
A man doesn’t want down her pants, that speaks volumes.
Or, more to the point, it makes a girl ask a lot ofquestions that might not seem logical to some, but to a girl, they were aslogical as it could get.
