"All I'm saying, in a purely modern, girl po
wer kind of a way, is that the only way to find out how you both really feel is to do the deed. Am I right? Or are you a Victorian revivalist set on being courted?"
I hated to admit there was some sense to what my boss said, so I stayed silent.
"Yeah, I'm right. I know," he said. "So, let's weigh it out. On one hand, you have the fictional idea of professional dignity and maybe the rainbow unicorn of integrity. And on the other hand, you have a bonus, an office, and a tight little mortgage on that new house you picked out. Plus, one unforgettable night of sexy sex with a sexy man."
"Please never say 'sexy sex' ever again." I turned the shower off. For as much as James Cort touted my good girl reputation, he treated me just like one of the boys, and I loved him for it. "Alright, boss, good pep talk. Now, I've got to chase down our next big client."
"Hey, at least his billboards are up everywhere. You can just stop people on the Strip and ask which way he went," James said.
I laughed and hung up. He was right. I had chased off Fenton too soon and for all the wrong reasons. If I found him and told him that, there was still a chance I could get him to sign off on the vitamin supplements endorsement. Anything else that happened could be separate, just between two unattached, consenting adults.
#
I fidgeted all the way down in the elevator. I tried to tame my curly hair. I used the mirrored walls to fix the smudges of makeup under my eyes. I checked my phone and laughed over the encouraging and raunchy messages my boss left. I also tried to brainstorm ways to track Fenton's movements, but every time I thought about him, I got distracted.
The strong grip of his hands did not change the soft, electric way he caressed my bare shoulders. His hard forearms locked tight around me, but never squeezed. His strength flowed against me as if our bodies fit perfectly.
The elevator doors opened and I stepped out into a chaotic scene. A small knot of young men was complaining to three security guards. Apparently, their buddy had snapped a candid picture with one of the MMA guys only to be assaulted. As one guy waved a digital camera around, I caught a glimpse of the photograph in question. Fenton's black hair and sharp blue eyes were cut off by a dirty high-top sneaker.
"You pretended to kick Fenton Morris in the face?" I asked. "Ever hear the phrase 'don't poke the bear?' Go look it up and try to learn something, but first tell me which way he went."
They all turned to look at me, mouths open.
"You heard the lady, the conversation is over," the bald security guard said. "Your man got kicked out, but I think he grabbed a cab from the lineup."
"Thank you," I said.
I strode up to the cabstand guy. "The security guard in there said you would help me." I waved at the guard and he looked confused, but waved back. "Where did that guy go?"
The uniformed man looked up at Fenton's billboard and then handed me a crumpled piece of paper. "It’s no place you want to go, Miss."
"It’s not the place I'm after, but the person," I said.
He opened the cab door and helped me inside. Two quick taps on the roof and we were off. I felt light and optimistic, despite the cab driver's concerned looks. "You know this address is a strip club, right?"
I nodded. In my head I imagined Fenton sulking in a dark corner of some seedy strip club where he would not even look at the women. He would see me, and his blue eyes would brighten. He could not hide the way he liked seeing me. I would tell him the truth.
"I've decided I can mix business and pleasure if you can," I practiced in my head.
"Miss, I don't feel right leaving you here," the cab driver said. "You go ahead and look for your guy. I'll be out here if you need me."
"Thanks, but I'll be fine," I said. I paid him in full plus tip and opened the cab door.
I took a deep breath and plunged into the dim tunnel of the strip club entrance. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust and when they did, I wished the bright lights of Fremont Street had blinded me.
Fenton was surrounded by fawning strippers, flashing a fan of cash in one hand as he knocked back shots of tequila from the bottle with the other. There was a bruise on the left edge of his jaw and a cut above his eyebrow. In the short time since he left me, Fenton Morris had lived up to every detail of his reputation.
I watched as a bouncer tried to kick him out. "Come on, I bet I can take you in eight seconds," Fenton told the mountainous man. Then, he turned and saw me. His smile disappeared, but not as fast as I did. I was out the door with the whole scene scarred into my memory.
CHAPTER TEN
Fenton
Dana Maria walked away from me, but I could not leave. I marched up to the mountain-sized bouncer and asked to see the manager. When the white-suited manager came out to see me, I paid him to send my sister home. The least I could give her was the night off. There was a commotion back stage between numbers, and I could hear her yelling. But when the manager emerged, he assured me Dana Maria had left for the evening.
The only thing to do then was to get blind drunk. I went to the bar and ordered tequila shots. When the bartender put down the bottle and turned to get a shot glass, I grabbed the bottle and swigged straight from it. I left enough money on the bar to cover it.