StripperwithSpice (8 page)

Regardless of sex, we still have to say goodbye again, which
was hard enough the first time. Why did I ever agree to this?

I’m grateful when the drinks arrive. Black coffee for him
and white wine for me. I order the first thing I see on the menu because my
appetite for food is completely gone.

Our waitress, a blonde twentysomething, bats her lashes at
Carlos as if she wants him on the menu. My leg twitches with the urge to kick
her rear end, sending her back to the kitchen. Even though I have no intention
of having a relationship with this man, my gut instinct snarls, “He’s mine!”

Ignoring her until she leaves, he takes my hand across the
table and strokes his thumb in circles on my palm. Each touch sends a fiery
dart up my arm.

“You don’t have anyone to take care of you, do you?”

I shake my head and his dark eyes tug at me. So
compassionate, so haunted…

“It’s a rough world out there. You’ve had a hard time.”

“How do you know?” I ask.

He shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it beside him,
releasing the scent of suede and mesquite. I take the opportunity to pull my
hand back so he’ll stop touching me.

“I can read people pretty well,” he replies. “That’s an
entertainer’s job.”

Well, I don’t want to be read. To escape his scrutiny, I
gaze at the picture of horses overlooking our table.

“I was unemployed for a while,” I admit. “The job market is
not so great for people my age.”

Much as I hate to do it, I hope to turn him off with our age
difference. Stick to the analysis, I remind myself. By dessert, he needs to be
totally convinced it’ll never work between us.

He rolls up his cotton shirtsleeves. Maybe he’s as hot as I
am. Even the chilled wine doesn’t cool me off. Seeing the tattoos makes me grip
the edge of the table. The last time I saw them he was supporting his weight on
the bed while he fucked me. The dark figures moved while the muscles beneath
them rippled.

The crotch of my panties—the old cotton ones this time—grows
damp with need. Because I’m shaved, I feel every drop of my own arousal.

“Are you all right, Janice?”

I clear my throat and take a gulp of wine before touching the
eagle claw on his arm. “You never told me the story about this.”

“Right.
El águila
.” He looks down at the seat and I
can almost see difficult memories pass across his face as if they’re clouds. “Well,
when I was a boy, my father left us.

“It was so bad I wanted to run away too. Mom worked two jobs
and was tired and angry all the time. I had a younger brother and sister too to
take care of. One day I skipped out without telling her and took a really long
walk.”

I lean forward, pulled headfirst into his story. There’s
obviously more to this guy than sex. Every sound around me—the conversation
behind us, a fretful child across the room and the clink of silverware as a
table gets bussed—fades until I hear only his voice.

“I sat on a rock to rest and weighed my options,” he
continued. “I could run off like my dad or I could be the man of the family.”

“How old were you?”

“Fourteen.”

I wince. So young to be burdened with such responsibility.
The solemnity in his dark eyes makes sense now.

“What did you choose?”

But I’m pretty sure I already know the answer. This isn’t
Rolf, swinging his blond hair with a devil-may-care attitude. No, the guy
sitting across from me is responsible. I don’t think I would have had sex with
him otherwise. It was as though I’d known him without really realizing what I
knew.

The layers of this mysterious man are unfolding before me.
How thrilling it would be to discover them all, but if would have to stop after
tonight.

“At that moment, an eagle swooped down from the sky.” He
smiles, melting me inside. “It was so close I could feel the air stirred up by
its wings. Then it landed on a nearby tree and just sat there a long time,
watching me.”

Chills go down both my arms.

“It was as if he was determined to stay there until I made
up my mind.” He looks down. “When the decision came to me, it was easy. I had
to go home. I wanted to go home.”

“I knew it,” I say quietly.

“I wanted to drop out of school and get a full-time job, but
mom wouldn’t let me. I worked part-time at nights as a dishwasher instead.” He
wiggles his fingers. “I probably still have dishpan hands.”

I shake my head in amazement.

“So that’s why I got this tattoo on my right arm. To remind
me to step up and be a man.”

When he traces the image with his finger, I lay my hand over
it. “My God, Carlos. That’s beautiful.”

For a moment, he looks at me without saying a word. Leaving
him after tonight will be much harder than I thought. What binds us? Chemistry
or the hard times we experienced? Maybe that is the chemistry.

The food arrives, breaking the spell. I concentrate on
cutting my grilled chicken breast while he dives into a steak. If nothing else,
I’ll get a nourishing meal this evening. Since I never have time to cook, maybe
I should eat out more often.

For the first time all evening, awkwardness settles around
us. I clang my fork against the plate accidentally and even drop it in my lap.

“Relax, Janice,” he tells me. “It’s just dinner.”

“Sorry. This reversal is new for me. I usually get to know a
man first before—”

Before I screw his brains out.

After I’ve eaten enough chicken to give me sustenance, I
slip a small piece of paper out of my back pocket, hoping he won’t notice.

His fork freezes in midair. “What’s that? A love note, I
hope.”

“Nothing.” I glance over it, trying to commit it to memory,
but my capacity for short-term memory has vanished.

I’m not about to tell him this, but it’s a list of all the
reasons why a relationship with him won’t work.

“I bet it’s something
analítca
,” he says.

“Analytical? It is.” I decide to tell him after all. “It’s a
list of all the reasons we’re incompatible.”

He takes a sip of coffee. “Seriously? Let’s hear it.”

A blush steals across my face. “Okay. Number one, we don’t
live in the same town.”

He stabs a green bean with his fork. “One hour by car. Big
deal.”

“Number two, you probably meet lots of women who are
prettier than me.”

His dark, level gaze homes in on my face. “I do meet a lot
of attractive women, but the woman I’m most attracted to is sitting across from
me.”

I can’t help but smile. “Good answer.”

“Next?”

“I don’t have time for a relationship because of my job,” I
state. “I have a lot of overtime.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I don’t exactly have regular hours
myself. My career is very important to me too.”

I pause before reading the final and toughest one. “Which
brings us to our age difference. You’re thirty.”

“That’s right.” He sets down his fork and grins at me.
“Sounds like you’ve done some investigative work of your own.”

My blush multiples into a three-alarm fire so I gulp some
ice water.

“Facebook,” I admit. “Carlos, I’m forty-three.”

I brace myself, waiting for him to call out “Check please!”
but his face is blank.

“Your point?”

“Thirteen years.” I slap the table. “That’s my point.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” he replies. “I’ve dated older women
before. I actually prefer them.”

“Really?” He must be flattering me because he plans to get
lucky later.

“They’re mature and know what they want. They’ve experienced
life and because of that, they’re better lovers.”

“But when you’re forty I’ll be fifty-three. When I’m—”

He holds up a hand to stop me. “Don’t tell me you’ve made a
chart.”

“Maybe I should have. I only came tonight because I was sure
I could convince you this wouldn’t work.”

Steely determination flashes in his eyes. “I’m not
convinced. Not even close, so knock it off already. I have age issues too, you
know.”

I take a deep gulp of wine. “You? I’d kill to be thirty
again.”

“My career has age limits. Even more than yours. They’re not
written in stone, but some day the women will stop looking at me on stage.
They’ll stop cheering and tipping me too.”

“Has that happened yet?” I ask.

“No.” He leans back against the seat and drapes his arm
across the back. “But I’m trying to prepare myself for it mentally and
financially.”

“I’ve heard strippers make good money.”

He nods. “I’ve tried to set some aside all along. Some guys
don’t though. They get hooked on a rich lifestyle, spend most of it and end up
with nothing.”

“So you’re going to retire?” It was strange to think of
someone so young retiring.

Unemployment had shot my retirement plan all to hell. I’ll
probably be working until I’m eighty.

“I need to find a new career. The problem is I can’t think
of anything I’d enjoy as much, or at all, for that matter.”

Finally a safe topic of conversation. I have to be the
world’s biggest expert on job security. His shoulders aren’t just muscular and
sexy, they support a level head. Warmth fills me and threatens to draw me
across the table.

He scrubs a hand across his face. “Change of subject. What
do you do for fun?”

For a moment I’m speechless. Fun? What’s that? I sure
haven’t allowed myself to have much of it in the past couple of years.

“Well, I used to enjoy cooking when I had more time. I’ve
had so many job challenges lately I haven’t done much except read romance
novels.”

“We’ll have to work on that.”

I tap my fingers on the table. How to convince him? Nothing
seems to daunt him. Zena’s words of warning come back to me. Date a stripper
and end up with a boatload of heartache. Dare I risk it?

“What about you?” I ask.

He wipes his mouth with the napkin and stretches. “Hanging
out with friends and family. Exercising. Entertaining people and making them
smile.”

I nod, taking it in. He obviously leads a very different
life than I do.

“Well, there’s another difference,” I point out. “I’m an
introvert and you’re obviously an extrovert.”

“Don’t opposites attract?” he asks, holding out his hands
with the palms facing up.

“To a point.”

He leans across the table. “Maybe that’s why I’m so
attracted to you. You’re sad. Someone needs to make you smile.”

Great. He thinks I’m a pathetic charity case. “I am not
sad.”

I gasp when he clasps both my wrists across the table. The
touch sends me back to the hotel room, making my nipples harden.

“Are you happy, Janice? Really happy?”

My mind stumbles across what my day at work was like.
Scrambling into the conference room completely unprepared. Having my boss tell
me afterward to shape up or else.

“Is anyone?” I reply.

“I am,” he says quietly, releasing his grip on me. “Let me
make you happy,
querida
. You know I’m the only man who can do it.”

Again, that annoying voice inside me says he’s right. I
shove the useless list back into my pocket.

We both look up when a woman in a chef’s uniform approaches
our table. She introduces herself and asks if we’re enjoying the food.

“Everything is delicious,” Carlos replies. “My steak was
cooked perfectly.”

I’m too nervous to taste anything because of this first
date, so I just nod. Then I look at her and blink. For one crazy moment I
wonder what it would be like to stand in her shoes—working with quality
ingredients, exciting people’s taste buds and creating visually appealing
masterpieces. I must be losing my mind from all the excitement of being with
Carlos.

After she leaves, I turn back to my date. “I’m really
surprised that such a good-looking thirty-year-old man doesn’t have a
girlfriend.”

“Believe it or not,” he replies, “relationships aren’t so
easy for male performers. People judge us, thinking we’re not capable or they
can’t handle the lifestyle.”

“I guess watching your man dance half-naked for a bunch of
gorgeous, horny women would be difficult.”

He sighs. “The truth is a lot of women can’t deal with it.
My last two relationships ended that way. Some of the guys like to get some ass
after every show, but that gets boring. Ass is just ass, you know?”

Actually I don’t know, but I’m flattered he thinks more
highly of mine.

“The truth is,” he goes on, “until yesterday I hadn’t had
sex for almost a year.”

I nearly knock over my glass of wine. “Are you kidding me?”

He shakes his head. When the check arrives, he refuses to
let me pay my half. I hate to admit it, but it feels wonderful to be taken care
of.

He takes my hand across the table. “Thank you for giving me
a chance, Janice.”

“I’ve enjoyed getting to know you.”

Unfortunately I couldn’t find one damn thing about him
tonight not to like. He experienced hardship, works hard, plans for the future
and wants more than meaningless sex.

My mouth dries, making me feel as if I’m on my first high
school date. Will he kiss me goodnight or try to go back to my place?

We get up and he walks me to my car with his jacket slung
over his shoulder. “I’m going to say goodnight now because it’s the right thing
to do.”

I know it is too. When I get a whiff of his enticing scent
in the crisp evening air, though, my cunt still screams for more sex.

“Thank you for dinner, Carlos.”
Don’t go!

His eyes are dark and full of promise in the dim light.
Without a word, his arms slowly encircle me as he wraps his jacket around my shoulders,
pulling me in. He definitely knows how to seduce a woman.

“Good night,” he whispers as his lips lower to mine.

Knowing more about who he is makes his mouth taste all the
sweeter. The flavors of coffee, steak and earnest-hearted man dance across my
tongue, threatening to addict me to him for the rest of my life.