“Yeah, look, I know what I’m about to say isn’t going to bring you clarity, but would you want someone to talk about your daughter, your mother, your wife like that?” Liz made an effort to sound reasonable and non-threatening.
“My wife ain’t stacked like that.” He flashed his teeth at her. They were so white, she was momentarily distracted by the gleam.
“What would she think, you talking about another woman like that?”
“She ain’t here.”
He smacked high fives with his friends.
“You’re being obnoxious,” Liz said. “And it’s a free world, but you’re making me and probably a few other women really uncomfortable. Is that what you want?”
“Why don’t you mind your own business?”
“I’d love to,” she said, sincerely. “But you’ve got volume control issues.” Liz made a “turn down” gesture with her hands.
“Are you one of those Femi-Nazis?”
Liz wished she had a bingo card. She could put a marker on the Femi-Nazi square. It was right next to the “Are you a Lesbo?” and “You’re just jealous.”
“Heil Steinem,” Liz said, shooting her arm straight out. A little levity never hurt any situation, right?
“Look, lady, we’re just trying to blow off steam and have a little fun,” said a tired looking man with a rumpled tie and disheveled hair. He held on to his coffee cup like it was her AVN award for best blow job. “Lighten up. Life doesn’t have to be so serious.”
Liz mentally marked off another two bingo squares. “I get that. But it’s at the expense of another person. You’re being a bully.”
They rolled their eyes almost in unison, and Liz knew she was wasting her time.
“We’re complimenting her,” Ringleader piped up. “She’s gorgeous. She could be a model. That’s the problem with chicks today. They can’t take a compliment.”
Another bingo square marked off. “Okay, I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt that you’re not actively being demeaning with the whole ‘chick’ thing. ‘Fun bags’ also isn’t a compliment.”
“How about ‘nice tits’?” Ringleader leered at her.
For a moment, Liz was taken aback. Part of her wanted to lift up her shirt and show him the scars that crisscrossed her breasts.
Still think they’re nice?
But with her luck, she’d probably get arrested for indecent exposure.
“How about ‘nice eyes’?” she countered.
“I’m not interested in her big . . . eyes. Why are you so uptight? Is she your girlfriend?”
Liz mentally drew a line over her imaginary bingo card. BINGO. Not because he was right, but because he and his buddies had used every nasty excuse and innuendo she’d heard time and time again.
“That’s enough, needle dick.”
Surprisingly enough, the comment didn’t come from the waitress and it was too deep of a voice to have slipped out of Liz’s mouth. The table of cretins joined her in gaping at the newcomer. Had there been a trace of Ireland in that sneering sentence?
Well, hello Sean O’Malley. Better late than never.
Liz’s eyes travelled over his large, muscular frame. Skype hadn’t done him justice. He was tall so she had a ways to look up. His narrowed hazel eyes focused in on the suits at the other table like he was ready to rip them apart. Shaggy black hair framed the now familiar face, which had probably been heartbreakingly pretty about ten years ago, but had matured into rugged good looks. Up close and in the fading daylight, Liz now saw his nose had been broken and badly set, throwing off the perfection of his high cheekbones and stubborn jaw. Life had shaped his face with character-building creases around his mouth and eyes. She liked to think they were smile lines, but he was glowering too fiercely at the men to be sure.
In the bad lighting and webcam pixels, he hadn’t been coiled to strike like a jungle cat. Swallowing to ease her dry throat, she admired how he held the attention of the businessmen, who looked away one at a time until it was just Ringleader holding his gaze.
He didn’t act like the dancers she knew or the men on the porn sets. They wouldn’t risk a fight that would put a bruise on their bodies—or worse, injure them. Sean didn’t seem to care. Was that what was bothering her about his story? She glanced down at his knuckles when he clenched his hands. The first two knuckles were callused, as though he made a living using his fists.
Liz frowned. When they had Skyped, he seemed more of a lover instead of a fighter. But he balanced himself on the balls of his feet like he was ready to take on all comers. Strippers didn’t usually beat up people. But, Liz had checked up on his story and he had been telling the truth. Sean had been a dancer at Club 69 on the Upper East Side. His boss had missed him. Wanted to know when he’d be back. Said he was quite a draw.
Quite indeed.
He wore a gray hoodie half-zipped over a tight, white T-shirt and his jeans were snug enough she could see why he was so popular.
Oh my.
Liz moved her gaze down his muscled thighs. Her own thighs quivered and she glanced back up. He had caught her looking. There was enough steam in his gaze to make her giddy before he returned to glaring at Ringleader.
This is new.
She’d practically lived as a monk these past nine years and hadn’t missed sex. Liz had begun to think that she fucked so much on camera, she used up her quota in this lifetime. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Sometimes she also missed the intimacy that came after a good romp in the sack, the cuddling, and the sweetness of waking up in someone’s arms. However, it also took a lot of energy trying to figure out who wanted to date Liz and who wanted to fuck “Spice”—energy she couldn’t spare between raising her son and her business. She took the edge off with an active fantasy life and a slew of battery operated gadgets, but with her life with Jonathan to consider, no one she met ever interested her enough to take home. Was she thinking about taking Sean O’Malley home?
Liz shook her head. No. Only as a new FATE member and only if she could get rid of the feeling that he was hiding something.
“Let’s get out of here,” Ringleader said, finally dropping his gaze. He threw a hundred-dollar bill down on the table.
Liz sincerely hoped that covered the tip, as well. She’d hate to think her big mouth stiffed the waitress. Sean waited until all the men left, staring bullet holes in them. Then he sank into the booth.
“Troublemaker, huh?” he said, a faint Irish brogue making her panties a little damp.
“They weren’t so tough.” Liz dismissed the suits with a wave of her hand.
“I was talking about you.”
“Me?” Liz reared back. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, a woman with any sense doesn’t start a fight with five men.”
“We’re in a crowded restaurant.”
“Right now you are. What happens when you go to leave and they’re waiting in the alley for you?”
Liz flushed. “I appreciate your concern, but that wasn’t going to happen. They’re businessmen in suits, not gang members.”
“Don’t be so fucking naive.”
Was it wrong that the way he said fucking seriously turned her on? “I didn’t invite you here for a lecture,” she told him primly, while she looked back to her laptop. Maybe she left her composure on the screen?
The waitress brought over her latte and salad. “Something for you?” she asked Sean, all business.
“Coffee, black. And one of those cinnamon buns.”
“You got it,” the waitress said. “And thanks, both of you, for what you said.”
“Anyone would have spoken up,” Liz said. But they both knew that wasn’t true.
“I still appreciate it.”
When the waitress walked away, Sean shrugged off his hoodie. Liz nearly snorted her latte. Wow. If she’d had a doubt he was a stripper, the casual, sensual way he shed his coat would have convinced her.
Eyes up there. She forced herself to stop ogling his cut biceps.
He’d caught her again. There was a sparkling warmth in his eyes she was trying not to find enchanting.
Business. He obviously wasn’t looking for a date. He needed FATE and her support, not another screaming groupie who wanted his body.
Chapter Two
Sean O’Malley hadn’t expected to feel anything but satisfaction and maybe a surge of lust when he met with Spice, a.k.a Liz Carter. In person, she didn’t disappoint. Beautiful, luscious, her wide, full mouth was made for kissing and he knew the full extent of what she could do with it. He had a few of her movies downloaded on his laptop.
The whole protective thing that jolted through him had caught him by surprise. When he walked in and she was facing down five men who looked like they were drawing straws to see who got to hold her down and fuck her first, his temper ignited.
It lowered to a slow burn when she stared at him with those deep brown eyes, giving him the once over like he was on stage. Well, that was his cover, wasn’t it? She wouldn’t be sitting next to him now if she knew he was just using her for his research paper about the adult entertainment industry.
Think of Mary Katherine.
But he didn’t want to think about his sister right now. For the first time in a long time, Sean wanted to put aside his data points and hypothesis and share a cup of coffee with a gorgeous woman with wavy black hair through which he was dying to run his fingers.
“I’m glad we were able to finally meet in person,” Liz said, attacking her salad with a vengeance.
His sister used to do that, like all that rabbit food was the best thing she ever tasted. It had to be farm grown or organic or free range. Sean stared down into his coffee. He supposed the meth had been home grown.
“Earth to Sean.” She snapped her fingers.
“Sorry,” he said, rubbing his face. “Long day.”
“Tell me about it. Sometimes it helps to have a friendly ear.”
He wished he could, but it would skewer his data. “You know how it is. Sometimes you’re the windshield, sometimes you’re the hemipteran.”
“The what?” Liz asked, forkful of mesclun paused by her mouth.
“Sorry, just channeling my inner Sheldon Cooper. Bug.” Sean made squishing sounds.
“Who squished you today?”
“Who didn’t,” he countered. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to think about the exterminators. I want to get to know you better.”
Liz finished her salad and cupped her hands around her latte. “I’m a what-you-see-is-what-you-get type of person. What do you want to know?”
Now was his chance. If only he had his laptop—anything to record her next few words. But how was he going to ask his most important question without sounding like a tabloid reporter?
“What’s your favorite color?” he blurted out.
“Seriously, O’Malley?”
“I panicked,” he admitted. “I went with the safe question.”
“Blue,” she said. “You going to share that?” Liz nodded to the cinnamon bun.
Sean broke off a piece and handed it to her. He liked the way her eyes tracked his tongue as he licked the icing off his finger. Indulged himself in how it would taste licking it off her body. To his surprise, she blushed and looked away.
A blushing porn star. What were the odds?
“How’s school going?” she asked, fiddling with her fork.
For a moment, he blanked, trying to remember his story. Oh yeah, Sean took a deep breath. He hated lying. His cover was that he went back to school as an undergraduate at NYU and started to strip to pay his way through college. Not very original, but it worked. In truth, when he wasn’t teaching, his day job was at a juvenile clinic for troubled youth. Although, he did spend a week stripping at Club 69 so he wasn’t totally full of shit.
“Good. I like my classes.” Or rather, he liked those classes when he took them six years ago. Now, he taught them. He had a BS and a masters in social work. Being a teaching assistant helped keep his tuition bills down while he went for his PhD.
However, even before that, he had been the biggest nerd in high school. He graduated two years early. Other kids dreamed of being pro ballers and rock stars. Sean wanted to be a cultural anthropologist. No posters of Kobe Bryant and Shaq on his walls. He would have plastered his room with James Clifford or George Marcus, but, sadly, they don’t make trading cards of ethnographic authorities. It was a good thing his father made him take boxing lessons, or he would’ve been the poster child for Swirly Qs.
“I was an English lit major,” Liz said, taking another piece of his cinnamon bun.
Sean choked down a laugh, but didn’t conceal his grin in time.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he shrugged.
Liz’s eyes narrowed on him. “Go ahead. Say it.”
Now he was the one blushing. “I don’t know how without sounding like an asshole.”
A smile twitched on her face. She was lovely, and she made him feel a little goofy when he looked at her too long. “Let me guess,” Liz drawled. “You’ve seen A Sale of Two Titties?”
“I might have,” he hedged, the burn on his cheeks something he wished he could will away.
“Did you know we were threatened with a lawsuit over the title?”
“There was another porn movie featuring Charles Dick-ins?” Sean was trying not to picture her doing a reverse cowgirl on some faceless stiff, her naked body facing the camera as she bounced up and down. It was bad enough his cock was pressing at the seams of his jeans just from being near her. She oozed sensuality. He hadn’t been prepared for that. In their emails and texts, she seemed more like the girl next door. The rapport they shared made it easy to forget who she used to be and why he was here.
“It’s actually taken from a Monty Python skit,” she said.
“My mind is going places it shouldn’t, thanks to the python imagery,” he admitted.
Her laugh trilled across the cafe, attracting interested male attention. He glared them down.
“Why do you do that?” she asked.
“What?”
“Scowl like that. They’re just looking to see what all the hubbub is about.”
“Maybe,” Sean said, still eyeballing a clueless hipster. “But then they’re noticing what a beautiful woman you are.”
When she didn’t say anything, he brought his attention back to her. She was shredding the napkin. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t know,” he said honestly. He held out his hand and she laid hers inside it. Rubbing his thumb across her knuckles, Sean watched as Liz took a trembling breath. “Does it make you uncomfortable that I’ve seen your movies?”
“A bit, but probably not for reasons you think.” She moved her leg under the table so it brushed his.
“Tell me.” He told himself this connection was just that he was getting closer to understanding what happened to Mary Katherine. To do that, he needed to get into the FATE group. He should have his “eyes on the prize” as his sparring partner, McManus, always said. He’d be busting a nut if he could see Sean now.
“I don’t mind that you watched my movies,” Liz said, breaking into his thoughts.
“You don’t?”
“Did you get off?”
Sean was glad he didn’t have a mouthful of coffee. He’d have spit it out all over the table. “Yeah.”
Liz nodded. “That’s the point of the movie. If there weren’t any buyers, there wouldn’t be any movies. So you’ve seen me fuck. I know you jerked off to it. No embarrassment. It is what it is.”
His dick lurched when she said fuck. God, he wanted to kiss her.
“So what makes you uncomfortable?” he asked.
She took a few deep breaths, started to say something, and then looked away.
“I’m not judging you,” he said to fill the silence. “I don’t understand the whys, though. Why a girl gets into porn. But I’d like to know.” His hand tightened on hers. It surprised him that it wasn’t j
ust the scientist in him talking. He really wanted to hear her answer.
“You want to know why I got started in porn?” She seemed relieved to be asked that question. They had kept their conversations to safe topics when they were exchanging those first few texts and Skype, feeling each other out, making sure the other wasn’t a psycho. Tonight was more intimate and it was so unlike what he expected, Sean felt that he was three steps behind. He hadn’t expected the sizzle between them.
“Sure, as long as it doesn’t make you uncomfortable to tell me.”
“I wanted to.” She sent him a challenging look
“You wanted to?” Sean was about to burst out of his jeans.
“I love sex.”
She’s trying to kill me.
“I was offered a lot of money.”
He managed a nod.
“And I was good at it.”
He nodded again before he caught himself.
“But that’s over now. Just like you’re not stripping anymore, right?”
Clearing his throat, Sean said, “Right.” It was bad enough working a full shift at the clinic and then almost pulling an all-nighter dancing for horny chicks with dollar bills. His schedule was brutal. Monday, Wednesdays and Fridays at the clinic and Tuesdays and Thursdays at the college. Sometimes he double dipped and did both jobs every day, and if he was backlogged, he worked weekends. Although, his weekends were usually booked for his ethnography project, which he would eventually expand into his thesis. Which reminded him, he should go to campus and check on his algorithms.
Sean shook his head. No time to think about that now. She didn’t know how busy he was. Maybe she thought he was stripping again. Sean stifled a snort. He had barely lasted the week. It had been for research and for Mary Katherine. He couldn’t see himself stripping long term.
“Do you miss it?”
“No,” he said. “It was exciting at first. Having the women scream at me. Jam fives and tens down my pants. You wouldn’t believe the offers I got.”
Liz raised an eyebrow.
“Well, maybe you would,” Sean said. “I got jaded too fast and it wasn’t fun anymore. The money was still good.” And it had been. He managed to pay a few bills. “But I didn’t like the contempt that was under the admiration.” And he didn’t like the assumption he would fuck anyone for the right price. “One woman, attractive, in her mid-fifties, wouldn’t take no for an answer. She paid the hundred dollars to be in the VIP room and wanted me to go down on her. Starting bidding on it. She was up to five thousand dollars before I left the room. I was a dancer, not a gigolo, but she didn’t seem to care or think there was a difference. I didn’t go back after that.”
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