Stripped (6 page)

Turning, she waved a waitress down and wrote a quick note. “Give this to him in five minutes, please.”

With tears blurring her eyes, she headed quickly to her car and went home. Hoping like hell she'd made the right decision.

* * *

At home an hour later, Dahlia heard a pounding on her door. She knew who it was and sat in the dark, hoping he'd go away and praying he wouldn't all at once. He pounded again, said her name and then once more, louder.

It was after two and if he continued, he'd wake up her neighbors. She went to the door and opened it a crack, but he wasn't having it.

He gently but firmly reached in and moved her back, came inside and locked up behind himself.

Before he said a word, he grabbed her and kissed her hard. No tongue, just a crush of his mouth against hers. Enough that his taste rushed through her system, bringing her body to life, her desire for him cutting sharp.

“Now. Sit.” He motioned to the couch and she narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Who do you think you are coming in here and ordering me around this way?”

“Fine. Stand, but I'm talking here. You showed atrocious manners tonight, Dahlia.”

“
I
showed atrocious manners?” Her voice rose along with her back. “You know, where I come from, bringing one girl to the party and coming on to another is bad manners. But maybe manners are different on your side of the tracks.”

“You know, your attitude about my money is really tiresome! I work hard, Dahlia, and it's insulting that you assume otherwise!”

“Don't you yell at me in my house! I know you work hard, Nash. But that doesn't erase the fact that you took me to the high-roller room and five minutes later you're hitting on another woman.”

“In the first place, I wasn't hitting on anyone. I was there with you and I don't want that to change. I was talking to a friend. In the second place, you didn't explain why it's okay for you to make the tracks comment.”

“Oh, my God!” She threw her hands into the air. “You run in a totally different crowd, Nash. The moneyed crowd. You and William work for your money, but a whole lot of your circle just plays. All the time. Everything and everyone is a game to them. I've dealt with them quite a bit since I arrived in Vegas. Men who think a D cup is license to fondle my tits when I just want to learn how to run a business! Or that I'll fall down with my thighs wide for a few sips of expensive champagne at the club. You thought so, too, that first night, don't lie!”

He tossed himself onto her couch. On the way he reached out to grab her waist and bring her down with him, not letting her go.

“I don't deny I was a stupid asshole that first night. But I'd like to think I'm a better person now. Yes, we come from different backgrounds, but I don't understand why you'd want to break up over it.” His voice was gentle as he traced over the curve of her bottom lip.

“Tonight I saw a glimpse of my future, Nash, and it hurt,” she said softly, emotion in her voice. “I'm not that sophisticated. This is…more for me. I just can't be an accessory. It hurts too much.”

“You're not an accessory. Dahlia, I'm
with
you. You. I don't want anyone else. I've thought about nothing else but you for months. I admit I've not been as sensitive as I could have been in the past when I've broken it off with women, but I'm a better person now. Because of you. Won't you please tell me the story? I saw the way you looked tonight when Lara came out of The Dollhouse and glared at you. And I heard the anger and pain in your voice when you talked about wanting to learn how to run a business but being groped. Tell me. Please. How can I understand you if you won't share with me?”

Dahlia told him about Bill Warner and his nasty ex-wife. She didn't tell him about high school or any of the other experiences she'd weathered; it wasn't necessary. She wanted to underline their class differences and also give him the story he seemed to want so damned bad. She'd see just how special he thought she was now.

“Dahlia, my God. I'm sorry. For what it's worth, Bill Warner is known as a philandering asshole and I'm sure you weren't the only intern he abused that way. Lara is bitter.” Leaning in, he brushed his lips over her forehead. “I understand more now. I'm going to pop Bill in the face if I ever see that bastard again.

“I wouldn't humiliate you like that. I may not be the most sensitive guy around but I'm not Bill. You deserve better and I want to give it to you. But I can't if you're always assuming the worst of me. I'm trying. I admitted I saw you as a stereotype and I stopped. Won't you do the same?”

It was going to hurt like a bastard when he finally moved on; she knew it, but she didn't have the strength in her to let him go. Not yet. And he'd touched her with his reaction after she'd unloaded her story about Bill. It felt so good to be able to tell someone about it.

“Oh, all right. I suppose I can keep you around awhile yet. You're awfully good in bed.”

“Let's just make sure of that, shall we?”

* * *

Nash awoke to an empty bed. For a moment he lay there, breathing her in from the sheets. The scent of their lovemaking sent warmth through his system.

Stretching, he got up and followed the aroma of coffee, stopping to appreciate the sight of her standing in her kitchen, looking cool and elegant in a gray pinstripe suit.

“Wow. You clean up nice.”

She blushed. “Thank you. I look okay, then? You'd hire me if you weren't fucking me?”

He heard the note of uncertainty in her voice and his heart constricted for a moment. “You look very professional,” he reassured her as he poured himself a cup of coffee. “I take it you're interviewing with Joseph today?”

One of her eyebrows went up. “Joseph? Joseph Tate? How did you know it was him?”

Chagrined, he sighed. “Okay, so I do a lot of business with the Tate Group International people, and Joseph is a friend. You mentioned the upcoming interview and I happened to see him last week. He likes you, thinks you're a hard worker and smart. I didn't tell him anything he didn't already know.”

“I like to do things on my own, Nash.”

“You have. You are. Look, Dahlia, you're an MBA. You
know
the world of business isn't just about how hard you work but who you know. Joseph isn't an idiot. He wouldn't hire you just because I talked you up. He already thinks you're a good candidate and if my speaking to him adds to the reasons why he should hire you, that's not a bad thing, is it?”

Swallowing down the last of her coffee, she stopped fighting her smile. “Okay. I appreciate that, Nash. But this kind of thing is really important to me. I want to make this on my own merits, you know?”

He put his hands at her waist and drew her closer. “I do know. When you grow up with money, people assume you got ahead because of that and not your own work. I would never sabotage you or try and make an end run around you like that. I'm really good at talking to people, you know. It's what I do.”

“I can see you're very good at it.”

Nash couldn't hide his pleasure, leaning in to kiss her neck, not wanting to mess up her lipstick. “He was impressed with the work you did for them.”

Joseph had also said that once the women in the office had gotten to know Dahlia, the hostility level had dropped and her work had improved even more.

She blushed, clearly pleased. “God. Okay, I can't think about that right now. I need to go. There's food in the fridge. Just lock up when you leave.”

Something inside him quailed a moment and then eased. “Will you call me later on to let me know how it went?”

She kissed him quickly and pulled on her suit jacket. The deep gray complemented her coloring, but she appeared very professional.

And, still, her sensuality smoldered. It wasn't overt. She wasn't trying, she just
was
sexy. He loved that about her and hoped she'd find it within herself to accept that as a part of who she was. Anger at Warner boiled up for a moment, but he shoved it away—she didn't need it.

“I'll call you this afternoon when I come home to eat before work.”

“Why don't you come to my place for a change? We can eat there and I'll go to the club with you. Spend the night, Dahlia.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “You sure?”

“Why do you ask like that? Of course I'm sure or I wouldn't have asked. I want to see you later. I like having you within reach when I wake up. That's very handy.”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, then. What time should I be there?”

He told her where to park and that he'd be home after three, and she kissed him once more and left.

D
ahlia looked out the window as she used the StairMaster. StairMaster time was what she imagined hell to be. Every second felt like a year as her thighs burned.

Still, she didn't lack for things to think about. Her interview had gone really well, and this job could totally change her life.

She'd miss The Dollhouse, but she'd have a regular schedule and be doing something exciting and challenging. And she certainly had no complaints about the salary and benefits. Not living like a student had a lot of appeal after six years.

Still, if she did get the job it wouldn't start full-time until toward the end of next semester. It was all theoretical at that point, so Dahlia didn't want to get her heart set on anything until she knew more.

The winter break was approaching and she had to decide what to do. Her mother wanted her to come back home to visit for Christmas, and she did miss everyone.

But that led into the other big thing she'd been thinking about. Nash. She'd been seeing him for a month. If he was in town, they were together. He kept in regular contact if he was gone. He'd become a part of her life before she'd realized it. Maybe she needed the time away to figure it out.

Or maybe not.
Gah!
She thought too much, she knew that. If she overthought the thing between them, she'd ruin it.

* * *

“So how are things with Dahlia?”

Nash looked up into his personal assistant Amy's face and shrugged.

“Don't tell me you're dumping the poor woman! Nash, you shouldn't have pursued her if you didn't mean it. From your stories, she seems too sensitive for you to toy with.”

“Does everyone think I'm a total cad or what?” He stood up, scrubbing his face with his hands. “It's been a month. I've never been with a woman this long before, not on an exclusive level. And I like it. I like having her in my life. I like waking up with her. If I'm not here I like knowing I'm going back to my hotel room and calling or e-mailing her. It's a completely new thing for me.”

“I don't think you're a cad. But I do think you go through women like potato chips. But in your case, most of them seem to be okay with that. I have to say it cheers me to hear this one is different.”

Sitting next to her, he squeezed her shoulders briefly. “She's smart and funny and sarcastic as hell, and, well, I've told you what she's like onstage. But she's also shy and so scared of herself. Of all her power. She doesn't trust me like I wish she would.” He told her briefly about the situation with Warner.

Amy sneered. “Bill Warner is an ass. But, Nash, honey, you have a reputation. And it's well deserved. I know you're a good person beneath the trail of discarded women, but she sees those women and imagines herself as one of them. It hurts to be tossed aside. And she has this history of being misjudged. You can't avoid that.”

“I don't want to toss her aside, Amy. I think I'm falling in love with Dahlia. I had this moment this morning when she told me to lock up behind myself at her place. It was so normal. My body started to freak, but then my heart realized how good it felt to belong to someone like that.

“She's got class issues and I don't know how to handle it. She's concerned that she's not in my circle. But I couldn't care less about that! I want her, not her bank account or the tag in her clothes.”

“Which is easy for you to say.”

“Why does everyone say that?” Nash moved off the couch and began to pace. “I'm not a snob.”

“No, you're not. But you
are
a man who vacations in Italy. You think nothing of the class issue because why should you? You've never struggled. I know you work hard. You've built this business up from nothing and made Emery Incorporated into something your father would be very proud of. But she's working from nothing. She's on the outside, Nash. You're inside wearing Gucci loafers and lounging on a leather couch. Cut the girl some slack. And it's about time you fell in love. It sounds to me like she's worthy of you. And I know you're worthy of her. When do I get to meet her?” Amy stood up and began to gather her paperwork.

“Stay for another few minutes. She's coming over for dinner before work.”

Amy smiled. “Oh, good! And how does William feel about it?”

Nash sighed. “He likes her well enough. She's one of the big draws at the club. But he's a product of our household and while I may not be a snob, my mother is and so is William. He sort of thinks it's just a fling and as long as he thinks I'm just having a fling, he's fine. I need to talk to him more seriously about her and soon.”

“Are you going to your mother's for Christmas and New Year's?”

“Yeah. Since Dad's been gone, it's become really important to her. She may be totally demanding and manipulative but I believe how lonely she looks. I don't want to leave Dahlia for that long, and I don't think she could handle my mother for a week. God knows I barely can.”

“She'll never be ready for Leticia. Who would be? But you're wise to hold off until next Christmas. Let the girl get to know you better. Build a track record with her first so you have ammunition with your mother. Because she won't be pleased you're with a woman with no pedigree.”

When the valet called to say Dahlia was on her way up, Nash met her at the elevators.

Stepping into the foyer she stopped and gaped. “Holy shit, Nash. This is a palace. My place must seem like a dark little closet by comparison.”

Kissing her quickly, he took her bag and then her hand. “Don't be stupid. I love your apartment. It's vivid and colorful, just like you. Now come on in and meet Amy.”

A look of panic flashed across Dahlia's face and he caressed her cheek. “She's a very nice person and so are you.” He tugged her into the living room where Amy was straightening up.

* * *

Dahlia's mind couldn't quite let go of the fact that Nash lived in what had to be the most luxurious place she'd ever seen in person. And then he sprung the personal assistant on her.

She knew Amy was important to Nash. He spoke of her with great affection and respect, and hers was one of the few rings Nash always answered on his cell phone. If Amy didn't like her it might well be the kiss of death in her relationship with Nash.

A tiny woman with silver hair pulled up into a ponytail grinned at Dahlia as she came toward her. “Finally! I've been nagging Nash for weeks to introduce us. I've heard so much about you. It's nice to meet you at last. I'm Amy Freeman.”

Dahlia smiled, responding to the other woman's warmth. Dahlia took her hand but Amy tiptoed up and kissed her cheek instead.

“It's nice to meet you, too. Nash speaks of you often. I'm glad to know he's got someone to keep him in line when he's out and about.”

“Oh, I just remind him where to be and mail things for him. It's not that hard. Nash is a pussycat.” Amy put her bag on her shoulder. “I'm off. My husband is taking me to dinner. You two have a nice evening and I'll see you again soon, Dahlia.”

Nash excused himself to walk her to the door. Dahlia moved to the windows, amazed at the view. The mountains stood in the distance, but most of the Strip lay below and to the east.

She felt him approach and leaned into his body when he wrapped his arms around her, melting at his touch. “Dinner will arrive in a few minutes. Is Indian all right?”

“Yes, wonderful. This is some view.”

“It is, isn't it? Wait until it's fully dark. The lights are so beautiful.” His hands slid up under the hem of her shirt, palms smoothing over her bare skin. “You're so warm.”

“Mmm.”

“Sweatshirt off. Hands on the window. Spread your feet.”

Her eyes slid closed for a moment as she obeyed, the glass cool against her palms.

One-handed, he peeled the cups of her bra back, baring her breasts to his touch, rolling and tugging her nipples. Dahlia opened her eyes to catch the mirrored view in the window of his hand moving down her stomach and beneath the waistband of her yoga pants. She'd considered changing into something fancier, but she was glad she hadn't as clever fingers burrowed into her panties and delved into her pussy.

“You're so beautiful reflected there, Dahlia.”

Her eyes flicked up, catching his gaze in the window.

What a picture she made! Leaned back into him, one of his hands doing naughty things to her nipple, the other in her pants. No one had ever made her look or feel the way he did. She wasn't afraid of her sexuality with him. He made her love that side of herself.

“I'm going to make you come. Just a quick one before dinner. And then we'll take our time. Give it to me, Dahlia.”

“Work for it, Nash,” she gasped as his rhythm against her clit sped up.

A dark chuckle was her reward, hot against her ear and neck. “Tough talk for a woman standing in front of my living room windows with my hand down her pants. Your pussy is hot and juicy in my palm. Do you wonder who can see you?”

Her eyes moved from his to the city below. As her orgasm built, she did indeed wonder. Was there a man in his hotel room with binoculars? Did he see how wanton she was, writhing, rolling her hips against Nash's hand?

“Dahlia Baker has a kink in her laces.” His voice was teasing and she wanted to laugh but instead gasped as she began to come, fingers pressing against the glass, eyes locked with his again.

Some moments later he put her bra back in place and pulled his hand out of her pants. Reaching up, he drew a fingertip over her bottom lip and spun her, kissing her mouth.

Her taste mixed with his, dizzying her. As always, the dark edge of his sexuality turned her on. Her entire being sparked with electricity. Nash Emery made her feel so alive.

The doorbell sounded and he pulled back with a sigh. “Dinner is here.”

Over dinner he asked her about the interview, and she gave him some details.

“I hope it doesn't scare you when I tell you I love the idea of you getting a job here in Vegas. I like you here.”

She wasn't necessarily scared, but she was touched and thrilled because she liked being there with him, too. Damn, when had she fallen from attracted to him to really heavily into him? Trying to push that from her mind, she also told him she thought she'd be heading to Liberty for a few days at Christmas.

“I'll be going home, too. William and I leave here on Christmas Eve. I'll be back on the tenth. I'm going to New York right after New Year's and then to London.

“I hate being gone so long. Hell, I wish you could come with me to London. It's really pretty in the winter. I get the feeling I'm going to have trouble sleeping. I like you in my bed. Or me in yours.”

Two weeks would be the longest they'd been apart since they'd started dating. Dahlia realized just thinking in those terms meant Nash had begun to mean a lot to her. She also didn't miss that he omitted wishing he could take her home for Christmas and wondered what that was all about.

“I like waking up with you, too. And I'll miss you. But it's important to be with family at the holidays. I'm sure your mother misses you during the year. It's not much to ask that you give the woman who birthed you a week of your life once a year.” There, she said it. Told him she'd miss him—and she would.

He laughed. “You should be her press person. She has no problem saying any of that herself, though. My mother isn't afraid to use guilt. You know William is closing the club. He could have left it for his manager to run, but he's a control freak that way.” He put his fork down and leaned over to kiss her temple. “I'll miss you, too.”

They finished eating and then moved to his couch to watch the purpled sky fade into darkness, snuggled up together.

“I want to muss you up. But I'll want to even more when you get offstage, so I'll save it until tonight.”

Turning, she moved to straddle his lap. “Are you on a mussing-Dahlia-up diet or something? Is there an only-one-mussing-up-per-day rule? If so, you totally broke it about fourteen times so far.”

His eyes darkened and she found herself on her back on the carpet looking up into his face.

“You're playing with fire, Dahlia. I want you every moment of the day. It's an entirely new experience for me.”

“Is there something you haven't told me about yourself, Nash? I just assumed that with two women attached to you like remora at all times, you liked girls.”

He laughed and ground his cock into her. “Remora.” He rolled his eyes. “It wasn't that bad. But I much prefer this one sultry dancer on my arm.”

“Lest you think I'm fishing for compliments, I want to say I'm at a loss for words when you say that stuff. I don't know what you mean.”

He kissed her softly and pulled back enough to look into her eyes. “I've never been one for exclusivity. But I assume we have that and I'd like it to stay that way.”

“And this counts when you're in London or L.A. or wherever else?”