The Art of Sin (10 page)

     Al gestured to the brightly lit entrance of The Flesh Factory “You were pretty good in there. I was impressed. Where did you learn to dance like that?”

     He sheepishly smiled. “Ten years of tap and jazz at Mrs. Armstrong’s School of Dance.”

     “What made you want to study dance?”

     “I saw
West Side Story
on TV when I was six. I thought dancing would make me cool,” he disclosed with a casual shrug.  

     They stood beneath the lights of the club, staring into each other’s eyes. Grady wanted so much to pull her into his arms, but this wasn’t a stage, it was real life. In such a world, relationships took time to foster, and those awkward, unrehearsed moments between two people were the true showstoppers.         

     “Can I give you a lift home?” Al finally asked.

     “You sure it’s not out of your way?”

     “I think I might be heading in your direction.”

     Grady held out his right arm to her. Al took it and spied the swollen pinkie on his hand.

     “That didn’t seem to bother you tonight.”

     Grady glimpsed his finger, and instantly the throbbing started up again. He thought it odd how he had been so preoccupied, waiting for her and then dancing with her on stage, that he had forgotten all about his finger.

     “It’s fine,” he told her, escorting her along the street.

     “It still needs to be taped.”

     “Are you volunteering?”

     She tightened her grip on his arm. “You could come back to my place, and I might even be able to offer you some pain reliever.”

     “What do you suggest?”    

     She surveyed the people milling about Bourbon Street. “I have a beer and a bottle of vodka chilling in my fridge.”

     “Sounds enticing. Maybe you could even show me your cupola.”

     She laughed, and the light, airy sound made Grady’s insides smolder.

     “You’re obsessed with my cupola.”

     He adored the feel of her arm around his, and his thoughts drifted back to their dance on the stage. Silently chastising his runaway libido, he tried to think of something to say.

     “How was your meeting?”

     “Uneventful, like most of our meetings. When a bunch of medical people get in a room, there are usually three topics of conversation: what a patient had wrong with them, what the doctor diagnosed, and the outcome of the case.”

     “Sounds pretty boring,” he reflected, while they maneuvered through the crowded sidewalks.

     “Vodka helps.”

     “How many vodkas did it take for you to work up the courage to come to my club tonight?”

     “Two.” She removed her arm from his. “I didn’t want to come, but I’m glad I did. It was interesting to see you working, and also very enlightening.” She lowered her gaze to the sidewalk. “About that dance of ours, I don’t want you to think that—”

     “It was just a dance, Allison. It doesn’t change anything between us.”

     “Are you sure about that?” She started down the sidewalk again.

     He took a few quick steps and caught up to her.

     “Is that customary, to dance with women on the stage like that?” she questioned, keeping her eyes directed ahead of them. 

     “No, not quite like what we did tonight. Usually, it’s more tongue in cheek. I dance to entertain the audience, but with you it was ….” His voice failed him.

     “Was what?”

     “Personal. Like it was just you and me up there.”

     Al curled her hands about his right arm. “Do you like dancing?”

     He swung the garment bag beside him, feeling invigorated by her presence. “It pays the bills, the hours aren’t all bad, and I’m not tied to a desk. That was the one thing I hated about my job at Lehman Brothers; sitting all day at a desk. I swear I must have gained ten pounds when I worked on Wall Street.”

     “What if you could do something else? Something you really loved doing, what would it be?”

     “Working with kids,” he quickly responded. “I always wanted to be a teacher, but didn’t think there would be enough money in it to support a family.”

     She studied him with an engaging gleam in her gray eyes. “Kids? I never figured you for the type who would be interested in kids.”

     “Before I started dancing in college, I worked as a little league baseball coach. Best job I ever had. I loved working with kids, watching them gain confidence in their skills. Knowing I had a small part in shaping their future made me feel like I was doing something worthwhile with my life.”

     “You’re a good man, Grady Paulson.” She let go of his arm. “I think if you want to work with kids, you should find a way to make that dream come true.”

     “One day, I’ll get what I want.” He inched closer to her. “Maybe one day real soon.”

     She abruptly moved back from him. “I’m parked right ahead.” Al took off in the direction of her car.

     Grady happily grinned as he followed her. He was convinced he was beginning to make some headway with the captivating woman. Soon, he hoped, he would have her right where he wanted. Then, the image of her slender, naked body beneath him made his blood surge.

     “Doug was right, I’ve got it bad,” he mumbled, spotting her red BMW parked a few feet away.

    
Careful, Grady
, his inner voice cautioned.
This one could break your heart.

Chapter 8

     Al maneuvered her red BMW along the driveway next to her imposing, three-story mansion. As the shadows from the house engulfed her car, Grady took in her silhouette.

     He wondered what it was about her that he found so damned alluring. Like most mysteries in life, he decided that there was no easy answer. He knew her looks turned him on. Nevertheless, he had been with many really beautiful women that had never made him feel quite this undone. It was as if there was something behind her disapproving glances and condescending smirks that ate away at him. Like a difficult teacher a student struggles to win over, Al was someone whose approval mattered to him. That realization hit Grady hard.

     Ever since his divorce, he had made a point to never open up to a woman. The lies he had told helped to keep the one-night stands from growing into relationships. However, here was someone with whom he wanted to share all of those sordid details. For a man who had made a living out of selling his looks and moves to a room full of strangers, it was more than a little disconcerting to discover that he actually wanted to share his thoughts and feelings with another.

     Al switched off the engine, sat back in her seat, and lovingly peered up at her home. “I adore this old house. When I was a kid, I used to sneak around at night, when everyone was asleep, and pretend it was my castle. A lot of other kids would be afraid of all the shadows and creepy noises, but not me. I think this place is comforting in the dark.”

     “Or maybe you felt more comfortable with the dark. You ever think of it that way?”

     She ran her small hand over the black leather steering wheel. “Maybe in some way that’s true. I was rather a shy kid who spent most of my time with my nose in a book. I read to get away from my sister and mother continually screaming at each other.”

     Grady folded his arms over his chest. “They fought a lot?”

     Al’s hand fell from the steering wheel. “Cassie was … not the easiest person to get along with. My mother used to call it her wild streak and always claimed she was just like our father. Cassie was never happy in one place. She went through dance school, horseback riding lessons, ice skating lessons, gymnastics, tennis lessons … you name it. She could never stay interested in anything for long, including boys. She had a line of guys chasing after her, and I think that, more than her bad grades and restlessness, really worried my mother.”

     “Well, she must have gotten it together after your mother died. You said she took care of you.”

     Al shook her head. “I don’t know if she took care of me or I took care of her. With Cassie, it was hard to tell.”

     “What does she do in L.A.?”

     She glared at him. “I never said she went there.”

     Grady was slightly confused. “You said she went west and when I—”

     “I know what I said, Grady,” she snapped.

     An uncomfortable silence permeated the car, and Grady decided to let the seconds tick by instead of trying to soothe her anger. Two years of marriage had taught him that silence had its own way of smoothing out those rough moments between two people.

     “I’m sorry. I don’t like to talk about my sister,” she finally confided.

     He gazed out his passenger window. “That’s all right. I don’t like talking about my brother.”

     “Why don’t you like talking about your brother?”

     Grady faced her. “Because he’s an asshole. I was on the road when our parents died in a car accident. Dalton decided to handle all the details of the funeral and settle their estate without me. He didn’t even tell me about their deaths until three months later. He claimed he could not get ahold of me, even though my cell phone worked just fine for my agent and anyone else wanting to contact me.”

     Al edged back in her seat. “That must have been rough.”

     “That’s when I went to Denver to confront him. His wife, Lizzie, didn’t want me around. She’s never approved of what I do.”

     “Why not?”

     He slapped his hand against his thigh, stirring the anger in his belly. “She comes from a wealthy family in Denver. She and Dalton met at the University of Colorado, and he chased after her like a son of a bitch.” Grady paused as memories of his brother clogged his thoughts. “Dalton was always enamored with money. He studied medicine in school, hoping to become a rich doctor, but he had to switch to accounting in his sophomore year because he couldn’t hack the science. That’s when he met Lizzie. I always figured if he couldn’t make money, he’d marry it.”

     “Sounds like a real asshole,” Al insisted with a frown.

     He snickered. “Yeah, big time.”

     She reached for her car door.

     “What about your sister?” he pursued before she opened the door. “Is she married?”

     Al kept her eyes on the handle of her car door. “Cassie died seventeen years ago.” Her shoulders sagged forward, pushed down by some invisible weight. “The ancient Egyptians used to say when someone died they ‘went west.’ I always found that a little more palatable when telling people about Cassie. Saves me having to explain what really happened to her.”

     Grady suddenly felt like shit. He shouldn’t have pressed about her sister. He had just wanted to get to know her better, and in the process had opened an old wound.

     “I’m sorry,” he said, gripping her forearm.

     “So am I.” She attempted to climb from the car, but Grady’s hand tightened, holding her in her seat.

     “You have an aggravating habit of walking out on a conversation just when it’s about to get interesting,” he softly complained.

     She raised her eyes to him. “No, I don’t.”

     Grady leaned across the car, stopping inches away from her delectable mouth. “Yes, you do, Allison.”

     Her eyes flashed with annoyance. “Do you think you could please stop calling me Allison?”

     “No,” he replied, amused at her response.

     Egged on by the caustic luster in her eyes and the delicate pinkness of her lips, Grady eased forward and kissed her.

     When their lips touched, a heavenly warmth pervaded his body. It was a reassuring sensation, as if she were the long-awaited sanctuary from his world of troubles. Encouraged by his feelings, Grady embraced her. Her mouth slowly yielded to him. Her rigid body relaxed, and then her hands tentatively moved up his chest. When her arms slowly slipped behind his neck, her lips parted. Incensed by the gathering heat in his groin, Grady’s strong left arm pulled her to him as his tongue caressed the tip of hers.

     Al moaned, and her body curled into his chest, begging for more. She was giving in to him, her hands combing through his hair. Her breath was coming in short, rapid gasps. Then, without warning, Al pulled away.

     “I shouldn’t have done that.” Blushing, she retreated to her seat, her hand covering her mouth. “We can’t get involved.”

     Grady grinned, thrilled that she had responded to his kiss. “Why, because it’s one of your silly ground rules?”

     She slapped her hand on the steering wheel. “Yes!”

     Still grinning, his hand went to her thigh, rubbing it gently. “It’s a stupid rule, Allison.”

     She batted his hand away. “You just don’t get it, Grady.” Al hurriedly climbed out of the car.

     He shoved his car door open and jumped out. “Get what? That you like me? That we would be good together?” he declared, looking over the roof of the car at her.

     “You’re a tenant, Grady. In four months you’ll be moving on, and then what am I supposed to do? Wait for you? Chase after you?” She reached inside the car and grabbed her purse.

     He bent down and pulled his duffel and garment bags from the back seat. “It was a kiss, Allison, just a kiss. If we were to get involved, who’s to say how long it would last?”

     She stood from the car. “Do you usually go into relationships expecting them to fail?”

     He stood from the car holding his bags. “What are you talking about?”

     She slammed her door. “You sound like you fully expect whatever would happen between us to be over by the time you are ready to move on to your next gig.”

     He kicked his car door closed with his foot. “I never said that!”

     “You implied it!”

     Tightly clutching the garment bag, he threw the duffel bag over his left shoulder. “I never did anything of the kind. I simply meant that there are no guarantees. You’re getting all bent out of shape about a relationship when we haven’t even gone on a date.”

     Annoyed, she slung her handbag over her shoulder and headed to the back door of the house. “You know, you really don’t have to tell anyone you’re not interested in a real relationship, Grady.”

     “I never said I wasn’t interested,” he called to her back.

     She yanked her keys from her purse. “I will not end up like Cathy. I don’t want a one-night stand with you. When I get involved with a man, I want a relationship. I want someone to stick around for a while. I want—”

     “What you have with Geoff?” he cut in.

     She placed the key in the lock. “I don’t have anything with Geoff.” Al forced her shoulder into the back door to get it to open, without success.

     Grady pushed the door open for her. “Then what do you have with the man?”

     “We have sex, that’s it. Satisfied?” Al blew past him and entered the house.

     He followed her down the dimly lit hallway to the stairs. “Why do you waste your time in a relationship you know won’t go anywhere?”

     She halted in the hallway and spun around to face him. “At least I know he will stay in the same city after I sleep with him. Can you give me that kind of assurance?”

     Grady inched closer to her, not sure of how to convince her of his sincerity, but determined to try. “Look, all I know is that I want to be with you. I wish I could give you assurances that I will give up everything for you, always be there for you, but that would be a lie. I haven’t been that guy in a real long time.”

     “That’s the guy I want to get to know, Grady. Not the asshole that slept with Cathy and then was afraid to confront her.” She moved away from him. “What you do isn’t who you are; I know that. Do you?”    

     Her words cut through Grady like a machete through butter. No one had ever told him that. He had never met anyone who had held up that mirror of self-reflection before him and forced him to confront the ugly reality of his life. All the women he had known wanted the dancer on the stage in their bed. For the first time since his marriage, he had met a woman who wanted the man at her side.

     Giving a small snort of dismay at his silence, Al shook her head. “That’s what I thought you would say.”

     As her tiny figure bolted for the stairs, an unknown voice in Grady’s head screamed for him to pursue her. Coming out of his daze, he took off after her, determined to take a chance and open his heart to another. When he rounded the end of the hall to the staircase, he came to a grinding halt.

     Standing at the top of the steps was Al and a very tall gentleman dressed in a tailored, double-breasted blue suit and yellow silk tie. He had salt and pepper hair, a long face, pointy nose, round chin, and when he looked down the steps to Grady, his dark brown eyes had the same condescending gaze of indifference he had seen before with Al.

     “Grady,” Al called down the stairs, her voice wavering slightly. “I would like you to meet Geoff Handler. Geoff, this is one of my tenants, Grady Paulson.”

    
So this is Geoff
.

     Grady climbed the steps, studying the man’s hard eyes. He instantly hated Geoff, not because of his relationship with Al, but for his air of self-importance.

     “You must be the new guy,” Geoff remarked in an unusually deep voice. “Allison gets so many tenants, I swear I have a hard time keeping track.”

     “Allison?” Grady veered his blue eyes to her. “I thought you hated being called by that name.”

     “She does,” Geoff confirmed, smiling at her. “I like to tease her about it.”

     Grady gritted his teeth while approaching the top of the steps, fighting a growing impulse to punch the haughty Geoff right in the nose.

     “Are you another stripper?” Geoff inquired, with a heavy lilt of arrogance in his voice.

     Grady put on his stage smile. “Yes. I just started dancing at The Flesh Factory.”

     “You’re in very good shape. I know all you guys have to be to keep the women interested.” Geoff chuckled. His fake laugh came across as insincere as his smile. “You must get all kinds of offers.”

     Al turned to Geoff. “Stop it. Grady actually went to Yale and worked at Lehman Brothers until the economy fell apart.”

     “Yale?” Geoff sounded impressed. “Who would have thought? I guess all you financial guys got into trouble after the market collapsed. Makes me glad I went into a business resilient against all of that.”

     Grady put his garment bag down on the steps. “What is it you do, Geoff?”

     Geoff appeared surprised by the question. “I’m a plastic surgeon. Al works for me.”