For me, these questions were two in particular.
The first, was I the damsel in distress in place of thesister he’d wished he could save?And part B of that question, was he in denialabout that, thinking he was doing the right thing when he wasnot?
Or second, was I a kind of employee he was looking after tokeep safe while they kept looking for the guy who did what he’d done to me?
And no one had said anything, so I reckoned he was still outthere.Detective Jimmy Marker had called at least ten times to share that hewas disappointed with the progress of the case, but he had no intention ofgiving up so they were still looking.
Sure, the illogical part in all of this was that it had beenway more than five weeks where Marcus had been sweet to me, kind, thoughtful,attentive, gentlemanly, generous, and even sexy.That should speak volumes too.
But, I mean, in my life, one of the many things I’d learnedwas that if a guy wants it, it’s offered, he takes it.Especially if it’sofferedrepeatedly.
So Marcus not taking it had to mean he didn’t want it.
Now he’d seen me doing my thing on the stage and he’d seenit a lot.He was sweet as usual when I got in his limo with him after work.Complimentary.Touchy.Kissy.Nice.He hadn’t acted, not once, like watching medo my gig made him think I was skeevy.Not even close.
In fact, it was the opposite.
It could not be said when he first started coming to theclub it didn’t make me feel all kinds of special, not only that he’d come, butthat his eyes never left me when I was onstage, like he was transfixed,spellbound.
And not just in the beginning, that kept right on going, inactions and words, he gave me the sense he was proud of me.Proud that, at theend of the night, the woman he was watching onstage was going to be escorted tohis limousine and she’d be spending the night in his bed (even if they didn’tdo much there).
But he was total class.He had a penthouse.He belonged to acountry club (one he had not taken me to, by the way).He worked a lot and saidthings into his phone like “dividends” and “shift those investments around” and“the rate of return on that is not what I’d hoped, let’s consideralternatives.”
And I was, well, a stripper.
I had a Porsche but I didn’t have a limo or a penthouse, andeven though I raked it in (with him paying me, but I could have done it my owndamned self if he hadn’t taken off a set, a song on each set, and the lapdances), I’d never have that.I’d never belong to a country club.I’d nevertame my hair, ease up on the eyeliner, and trade my platforms for Valentino’sRockstudin order to fit in with that set.
So maybe in the throes of the situation he’d gotten himselfinto a spot—being a gentleman and being the kind of gentleman Marcus Sloanwas—a spot he couldn’t get out of, dumping the chick who’d recently been rapedafter realizing she didn’t quite fit at his side.
I didn’t need that shit.
I needed to start looking for houses, dining room tables,and checking out china patterns.
And I didn’t need to do it with a broken heart (though, Iwasn’t letting myself go there, but I had a strong feeling that ship hadsailed).
Because even without thegood stuff, everythingelse was good stuff with Marcus Sloan.And I was not talking about the fancyrestaurants, the penthouse, the limo.
I was talking about his sweet.His attention that, even thetimes he was on the phone, he still made it clear if I was in his sphere, itwas always on me.His touchy.His kissy.His arms around me while I slept.Hiswarm, hard body the perfection it was to cuddle into.The easy way that cameoften that I could make him laugh.The beautiful way he looked at me every timehe gave me the same.
So I’d let my heart get in it.He’d put that effort in buteveryone had to take responsibility for their lives and I’dlethim inwhen I knew I shouldn’t.I knew he was too good for me.I knew it just wasn’tmy lot to get my something special.
And although most of his behavior indicated he wanted to bein, there was that one important way it did not.The intimacy we would share tomake all the rest of it concrete in my head.To understand irrevocably that hewantedallof me.Not to save me.Not to take care of me.Not to gothat extra mile because he was the man he was to look after an employee, orjust some woman that occupied a fringe of his life, who had the worst done toher that could happen.
No, not any of that.
To haveme.
Daisy.
“Woman?”
I focused on Smithie to see he was very focused on me.
“You good?”he asked.
I nodded, throwing him a dazzling smile.
He wasn’t dazzled.
