Bare Assets

by M. L. Stephens

Cutter fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair. After finding what must have been the coziest spot in it, he began. "After your sophomore spring break was over and you left to go back to college, there was a party in the field behind Spencer's place. You know how those parties were. There was music, a bonfire, four wheelers and a lot of drinking. The party was typical but this time your brother and I decided to actually drink. We set up a tent in Spencer's field and spent the night tossing back shots along with downing numerous beers. Anyway, I remember talking to Becky a few times during the night, but that's all I remember doing. The next morning, I woke up in the tent with my arm draped over her. We both had our clothes on, but even so, I freaked out a little. Since we were fully dressed, I convinced myself that it was just a drunken dumb ass night that could have gone really wrong but didn't. I planned on telling you before someone else had a chance to, but figured that at the most, she and I had just kissed. Not that kissing your girlfriend's best friend is excusable for any reason, but I never thought it was more than that."

  "Go on." She thought should probably toss him out on his ear before he could weave himself in deeper, but this was the best tangled tale she had heard since leaving the sleepy little town she grew up in. Chewing the inside of her lip, Angie visualized Spencer's field and the events that might have taken place that night. Spencer's field parties had always turned wild but the two of them had never stuck around late enough to witness the insanity. At least until he and her brother decided to stay that fatal night. From the stories she had heard about the late night trysts, the parties usually ended just a video recording shy of making it to a popular pornography cable network channel.

  "A few days later, she called me crying and begged me not to tell you what we had done. Naturally, I told her that she must have been drunker than snot to think that we had done anything. She insisted that she hadn't drunk much and remembered everything. What was I to do? I asked your brother about it, but he couldn't remember either. I swept it under the rug and decided to talk to you about it over summer break.

  "A week before you came home, Becky called, claiming that she was pregnant with my child. We both know she had a history of sleeping around so I suggested that she was mistaken about who the father was. She insisted that the baby belonged to me and since I couldn't remember, I couldn't make a valid argument. All I knew was that I had to tell you. As soon as you came home and told me our news, I had to tell you the other news. I never was able to lie to you and I didn't want you to hear it from someone else. Now, six years later, here we are."

  Clearing her throat, she twisted the top on the bottled water and quenched her parched mouth. The twisted Arkansas drama was more than she could have prepared for. "Who is Billy's father?"

  "She doesn't know."

  "Are we talking about the same Becky that was my best friend since birth? The same girl you married?" The question was answered with a nod.

  "What do you mean, she doesn't know?" This country farce was far more complex than any situation she had ever encountered in her big city strip club life.

  It was his turn to clear his throat. "Apparently Becky participated in a lot of group sex back then. Billy could belong to any one of our old friends."

  "Did our friends know she was framing you?" she asked with bewilderment.

  "That I don't know, but they did know she enjoyed orgies."

  "Let me get this right. Your buddies—our friends—knew about the group sex escapades and didn't tell you before you married her?"

  Another nod.

  With a heavy sigh, Angie sat in utter disbelief. She shouldn't be surprised that everyone knew but didn't say. The seemingly simple people of small southern towns were notorious for harboring dark secrets. She would know. She had been one of them.

  Chapter 3

  "Is that what I am to you, a challenge?"

  "If that's all you were, I would have bedded you by now."

  ~ Angela and Dean ~

  Angie arrived at the club just after lunch and immediately dove into the previous night's paperwork. Settling the cash drawers against the point of sale system was a breeze and didn't take up as much time as she had hoped. She desperately needed something else to occupy her mind, so she hid behind the bottles of alcohol in the storage room and began comparing the physical stock against the inventory list provided by the POS system. This was something she did on a regular basis and found the monotony of it to be therapeutic in times of personal crisis.

  "I thought I might find you in here." Candy's voice filtered into the room and interrupted the peaceful serenity she had come to appreciate when doing inventory.

  "Hey, what's up?"

  "We need our registers."

  Pulling her phone from a back pocket to check the time, she shook her head. "Geez, I can't believe I've been in here so long."

  "Haven't you heard the rumors?" Candy asked with a serious face.

  Staring at her with a concerned expression, Angie waited. When the head waitress didn't respond, she pressed for information. "No. What rumor?"

  "I hate to break it to you, boss, but this room is a time warp. Everyone knows it. I've heard that the previous owners once walked in and never came out." With a wink and a grin, the petite waitress patted the door frame and walked away, leaving Angie to snicker. Her bubbly personality and witty humor made it impossible for Angie not to like her. The other staff members and customers adored her as well. Candy had a way of turning any situation around until it appeared rosy.

  After locking the storage room, Angie made her way to the office. Everyone who was in a position to use a cash register was already waiting. Rushing inside, Angie opened the safe and the task of counting and recounting money began. It was policy that the employees count the money in front of her and sign for it before leaving the office with the cash. Each drawer was equipped with one hundred dollars which consisted mostly of ones, fives and tens and was usually more than enough to get them started, so it never took long to get through the process. If their registers came up short at the end of the night after being compared to the POS reports, it was their responsibility to make up the difference.

  As a business woman, she ran as tight a ship as possible. The only free floating money in the establishment was the money that the customers used to tip the dancers or waitresses. She was of the old school belief that any tips earned on the floor, belonged only to the employee who earned them. No tip sharing in her club. The cook, the bouncers, the DJ, the bartenders and the doorman were paid by the hour. While the waitresses earned less of a wage, they more than supplemented their income by keeping the customers happy and earning tips. The dancers earned their living the same as the waitresses and often worked the floor before and after their acts.

  Once the employees' drawers were handed out, she counted out her own, signed for it and headed behind the bar to set up. As she did each night, she crossed her fingers and hoped for another busy night.

  Going through the motions of preparing for the crowd, she couldn't help but think of Cutter. The fact that he had spent the night in her spare bedroom and was still at the house grated on her nerves. "What in the world were you thinking by allowing him to stay?" she mumbled under her breath. Without hesitation, her jumbled mind answered. You were thinking that it was 8 AM by the time you finished talking. Kicking him out would have been rude. It's not like he lives around the corner. Before she could give it any more thought, the music blared through the speakers and the night began.

  Several hours after opening, Candy called her to the end of the bar. "There's someone here to see you."

  "Did he give you a name?" Angie scanned the heads of customers but no one stood out.

  "He asked me not to tell you. He said it's a surprise." Her eyes were full of mischief, making it obvious that she was in on a conspiracy. Angie couldn't be sure, but she would almost swear the woman was repressing a giggle. Candy, more than anyone, should know that the boss lady wasn't fond of surprises, especially during working hours.


  "Ok, this is creepy." After a quick glance at the customers seated behind the bar, Angie quickly decided that the assistant bartender could handle the traffic. After letting her know that she needed to step away for a few minutes, Angie returned to Candy's side. "Where is this mystery man?"

  "I took him to VIP room number 2." She shot her a curious glance, but the waitress only shrugged her shoulders and smiled. "What? I didn't think you would want an unexpected visitor in your office and the room was available so it seemed ideal at the time."

  Uncomfortable was not the word Angie would use to explain this situation. Outrageously unprofessional was more appropriate. If this was a vendor that she had inadvertently missed earlier today because of her long stint in the storage room, Candy would have taken them to the office. Maybe Cutter had stopped by to say he was shoving off and heading back to Arkansas. Whatever the case, this impromptu meeting wouldn't last long enough to stir gossip. She would make sure of that.

  The VIP rooms didn't have windows in the doors so she was forced to enter into the meeting blind.

  Going against her better judgment, she swung open the door. Heavy feet halted their forward motion as she curiously stared at the man inside. It took a few noticeable seconds to gain enough composure to actually step inside the room. Glancing behind her to make sure none of her customers or employees was around to watch her enter, she quickly pulled the door closed. With arms crossed over her chest, she continued to look down at the one person she never expected to be alone with. Damn, did he always have to look so good? Pushing the thought out of her head, she frowned. "I'm sure you're aware that I have a business to run. If you want to procure a private dance, please feel free to talk to my girls, though I don't believe you'll have much luck."

  "I know this is a bit unorthodox, but I couldn't think of any other way to get you alone." Standing up from the small chaise lounge that adorned the VIP room, Dean held out a bouquet of white lilacs. "Happy birthday, Angela."

  "You shouldn't have," she said while furiously blushing.

  "I wanted to."

  As the blush deepened, she reached out to take the flowers and inhaled their aromatic fragrance. It had been a long time since anyone had given her anything, much less flowers. "How did you know it was my birthday?"

  Was that a chip of ice falling away from her frozen façade? he wondered. "Candy told me. I hope you don't mind. I didn't think you would appreciate it if I presented these to you in front of your customers and staff. Was I right in assuming that?"

  "Yes, you were. You really shouldn't have done this, though. It's too kind." Translation: thank you for being so freakishly awesome, especially when I treat you like dirt. With everything that had happened, she had completely forgotten it was her birthday. She hadn't been big on celebrations since leaving home, but was suddenly grateful for the gesture, even if it was from him.

  "Someone should be giving you flowers every day," he said.

  A muffled gasp escaped her lips before she was able to stop it so she cleared her throat in an effort to disguise her rebellious delight. "This doesn't change anything. I still don't like you, Dean."

  "I'm not going for like." His sultry voice swirled around her spine and held her motionless.

  "What are you going for?"

  Avoiding her question, he took a step closer. "I want to know why."

  What the hell is happening right now? she pondered. Confused, her mind struggled to make sense of it. "Why what?" The question was barely a whisper.

  "I want to know why you don't like me." With eyes glued to hers, he took another step.

  "Your reputation precedes you," she said. Though she was unsure about what was transpiring, she was unwilling to back down from the truth of the one thing she did know.

  His euphoric, baritone laughter filled the room, causing her to question his sanity. "Do you believe everything you hear?"

  The idea of him being insane gave her the strength she needed to verbally stand up to his questioning. "Not normally, but I trust my girls." That's the whole truth served up on a silver platter. Chew on that, Dean Murray.

  "I didn't have you pegged you as the type to believe in idle gossip."

  Another step closer and his cologne would undress her common sense and slap it on the ass, she thought.

  Taking a step back, Angela lowered her eyes. God, why did he have to be so freaking gorgeous. She needed to contact a feminist group concerning the cologne he was wearing. The weapon of panty dropping proportions needed to be pulled from the shelves immediately. "I don't, but you seem to enjoy keeping the gossip pot stirred when it comes to my girls."

  "What do they say about me, Angela?" He took another step forward, causing her to react by taking another step back. This maneuver strategically positioned him so that he was blocking the door.

  "I'm sure that Candy's told you." Her chest constricted as she lifted her eyes to meet his. Was he taller than he was yesterday or was the nearness of him causing her mind to discombobulate reality? And damn it to hell if the sensuality in his voice wasn't causing her head to spin. His penetrating eyes fondled her in places that had never been visited by the male species and seemed to be clandestinely stroking her insides. His silent assault was causing a tiny puddle of liquid to pool between her legs.

  "She has told me what they are saying, but I want to hear your version of it." The denim-wearing devil was luring her into his heartbreak hell. If he was truly the devil in disguise, she suddenly wanted to discover more about brimstone sex and sinful lust.

  "I seriously doubt that the stories vary in detail, Mr. Murray." She could hear the shakiness in her voice, but surely it belonged to someone else. Angela Fletcher didn't shake or quake and her legs never turned to jelly.

  "I want to hear it from you," he breathed. She tried to move further away but her back met the wall, jolting her into a state of full awareness. Though her mind was instinctively warning her to run, her body steadfastly refused to obey.

  It was a proven fact. Wild animals will fight when provoked and she did consider herself untamed, however when the animalistic instinct kicked into overdrive, it was not to fight for survival. Rather she was falling victim to his predatory way and there was nothing she could do about it, like a mouse hypnotized by a snake’s gaze.

  With a final surge of defiance, Angela tilted her head to the side and carefully studied the cobra that was waiting to strike. "My thoughts concerning your personal life are irrelevant. It's really none of my business what you do with my girls while they're not working and I don't care to verbally arouse you by reminding you of your indiscretions with them. If you'll excuse me, I have a bar to tend."

  "It is relevant, Angela." Pressing one hand on the wall above her head, he leaned down, stopping his mouth just inches from her ear. Her lips parted with a sigh as the warmth of his breath fanned against her ear. Dean would be her undoing. She found herself embracing the enticing nature of their impromptu VIP room meeting and wished everyday was her birthday.

  "Why should it matter what I think?" Her breasts pressed against his chest as she inhaled.

  The unexpected feel of her mounds as she took a deep breath, sent his words tumbling out with a low rumble as he struggled to control his manhood. "Because you matter, that's why."

  "I can't talk about this right now." The statement was just a notch above mute but he managed to hear her words clearly.

  "Then when?" Lowering his hand from the wall, he slowly traced the curve of her neck with his fingertips, wishing he could suckle the skin beneath.

  "After work." She had the urge to kiss his lips, but resisted. Something inside of her knew that one kiss would not be enough. She wanted to rip off his clothes, toss him on the chaise lounge and remain hidden from the rest of the world until she was sated. Then, depending upon whether there was truth to the rumors concerning his sexual prowess, she wanted to rinse and repeat until he begged her to stop. She refused to be conquered by any man, but turning the tables could be interesting.
<
br />   "Don't think for one minute that you're going to get out of this. I won't stop until I know the real reason you avoid me."

  "Why can't you just leave this alone?"

  "You challenge me."

  "Is that what I am to you, a challenge?"

  He couldn't take it. Being this close to her was more than he could handle. Before she could say more, his lips pressed against hers with forceful desire as his tongue pushed its way inside of her mouth, exploring her with hungry need.

  Her first reaction was to push away, but the possessiveness of his kiss caused her to surrender to his command. As the bouquet of flowers slipped from her hands, her arms found their way around his neck.

  While his tongue delved into the woman who had held him captivated for two long years, his chest heaved to absorb the moans escaping her throat.

  Breaking the impassioned kiss, Dean Murray's hooded eyes pierced into hers with unbridled yearning. Each fiber of his being screamed to claim her, but he refused to submit to his longing. Now was not the time, nor the place. Gaining control of his pent up desire, he brushed his thumb across her lips. "If that's all you were, I would have bedded you by now," he whispered. "You're more than just a challenge." Prying himself away, he picked up the flowers, returned them to her hand and after a slow, tender caress to her blushed cheek, the denim-wearing devil abruptly exited the room.

  With dumbfounded awe over what had transpired, the hard-nosed club owner lifted the bouquet to her nose. She was twenty-six, but up until just a few seconds ago, she had never truly been kissed. "Happy birthday to me," she said with a sly smile.

  Chapter 4

  Within arm's reach he stopped and stood, studying her with predatory intent.

  She carried the flowers into her office, appreciatively laid them on her desk and then made her way to the kitchen. After locating a plastic beer pitcher, she filled it with water and stalked back to her office. With a final smile, she placed the bouquet into the container and admired the perky white flowers. After her third attempt at arranging her birthday gift, she locked the office and promptly returned to the bar.