Bare Assets

by M. L. Stephens

  Just as she poured the first drink since returning, Candy rushed up to the bar, grinning from ear to ear. "I hope you're not mad," she said, batting innocent eyes.

  Feeling heat run up her neck, Angie anxiously scanned the crowd. "Where is he?" she asked.

  "He left. Are you mad at me?"

  "I am extremely upset. What the hell possessed you to tell Dean Murray, of all people, that is was my birthday?"

  "Come on, Ang. He's had his eyes on you since you bought the place and you know it. You're about the only one here who hasn't realized it yet." Shifting her tray to the opposite hip, she studied the other woman as if nothing in the world were more obvious.

  "I'll tell you what I know. I know that he's had eyes on every girl here; before and after I bought the place. I'm not a spring chicken who falls for the first man that shows me attention, Candy. I don't do wolves in sheep's clothing and I sure as hell don't hold private meetings in my VIP room. What were you thinking?"

  "It's not true," she said with assured confidence.

  "What's not true?" Angie asked. Popping the top off a beer, she slid it across the bar to a waiting customer, palmed his money and put it in the register.

  "The rumors about him aren't true."

  "And you know this, how?" If her cheeks weren't still red from the Dean encounter, they were red now. "Tell me, why are we even having the conversation? He's a player. You know it. I know it. Everyone in this club knows it."

  "Dean is not who or what you think he is. I know because we're close."

  Angie held up her hands to stop the waitress before she could reveal more information than she cared to hear. "Whoa. Hold up. If you guys are into that couple swinging bullshit, that's your business. I'd rather not know the details."

  "You thought we were a couple?" Hysterical laughter cut through the music as Candy cackled uncontrollably.

  Slightly annoyed by the woman's reaction, Angie's hands landed on her hips as she waited for the head waitress' knee slapping laughter to end. "What's so damn funny?" she sneered.

  "He's not my lover. He's my cousin."

  Angie was beginning to believe that the people around here were oxygen thieves, because once again, she was left sucking air through her nose. With a wink and one last giggle, Candy sashayed back out to the floor to service customers. The normally unruffled club owner could only stare in stunned silence as she walked away.

  The twenty-six year old college graduate who had fought her way to the top and saved enough money from dance tips and her parents' life insurance to purchase the strip club that she had formally worked in, was not accustomed to being speechless. Yet she was. The two years that she had owned the club had hardened her in many ways, but her tongue had always been swift with justice and retorts. Tonight, it fell silent as she contemplated Candy's declaration. Dean was her cousin? Why hadn't she figured this out sooner? It made perfect sense. He hadn't been a customer before she had purchased the club and had only started showing up after Candy was hired.

  Searching her memory bank in an effort to disprove the waitress, Angie couldn't recall having ever seen Dean before that. He hadn't been one of her customers when she was a dancer. Now that she thought about it, the rumors were non-existent before she bought the place. Was it possible that the rumors were false?

  Don't go off the deep end with assumptions about the rumors until you hear what he has to say, she told herself. In reality, having heard the truth from Candy was enough to seal the deal. The rumors had to have been fabricated. But why?

  The night continued at the breakneck speed of a turtle race. With only a half packed house, there wasn't enough work to distract her thoughts away from the VIP room, so she found herself constantly checking her phone for the time. Unconsciously, she lifted her fingers to her lips for the second time that evening and thought about the hungry way he had possessed them. His kiss had been fiery and passionate. Was it possible that she'd pegged him wrong and he was really a nice guy? If he was a nice guy, was it possible he was still good in bed? She quickly decided that if his kiss was any indication, she could be on the verge of the best sex of her life.

  "Now you have to sleep with him just to find out," she mumbled under her breath.

  "Are you feeling okay?" Jenna asked.

  With a false grin and a shake of the head, Angie answered, "I'm fine. I was just thinking about the upcoming show. Why do you ask?" Because you obviously have your head stuck up your ass, Angela. That's why she's asking.

  "You just look flustered, that's all." The assistant bartender was known for being observant and she was spot on as usual. Angie would never tell her that though.

  Blowing off Jenna's comment, Angie wiped down the bar and filled a few drinks. Will this night never end? she pondered. It did finally end, but now the end suddenly seemed too soon. With a rapid pulse and shaking hands, she bid farewell to the girls as they drove away.

  A brief visual scan of the parking lot did not reveal Dean. He wasn't anywhere to be found. "Probably for the best," she uttered. As usual, Bear walked her to her car and waited until she left the parking lot.

  "That son of a bitch! I can't believe I fell for his shit," she cursed to the steering wheel. Lucky for her it didn't answer back or retaliate against the increased pressure she was applying. Her grip was tight enough to turn her knuckles white. Releasing the hold, she took a few breaths and continued the drive home in silence. Dean Murray had stood her up. She was only grateful that she wasn't vested enough in him to be shipped to his island of heartbreak.

  Pulling into her drive, she groaned. "Crap." After being stood up by a callous playboy, seeing Cutter's truck still parked in her drive only dampened already drenched spirits. Shoving her car into park, she slid out of it and shut the door.

  "Hey." The voice carried to her from across the street so she turned, only to come face to face with the man who she thought had stood her up. He looked even more delectable standing on her street than he did sitting behind her bar.

  "What are you doing here? I thought we were going to meet at the club?" she asked tentatively. She watched with renewed nervousness as he made his way across the asphalt. The flickering street lights and a single ray of moonlight shining down enhanced his mysteriousness. The moon's rays were his spotlight and the quiet suburban street his stage.

  She already knew what how the night would end. Angela Fletcher was about to step into Dean Murray's passion play. The intensity of his stare sent her female senses into an immediate frenzy of hopefulness. The confident way he held her gaze caused her heart to flutter. While trying to remember to breathe, she admired the dark jeans hanging low on his waist and the charcoal grey, stonewashed button down that stretched across his rippled muscles. Damn it, boy. Within arm's reach, he stopped and stood, studying her with predatory intent. Quiet minutes passed as the chemistry between them continued to super-charge the air.

  "Hey," she said, finally breaking the silence. Really? That's all you've got? She mentally chastised herself for the sudden lack of vocabulary.

  "Hey," he returned, flashing the award winning smile that she adored yet hated all at once.

  Not entirely sure how to proceed, she nervously fidgeted with her keys and cast a wary glance toward the house. "I would invite you in, but I have a guest staying with me for a few days."

  "And this guest of yours, do they dictate who you can and cannot invite into your own home?"

  Feeling like a school girl on a first date, she lowered her head to hide the flush of her cheeks. "No."

  "Then I don't understand the dilemma."

  "It's complicated," she breathed.

  In a single motion, he was standing with his chest pressed against hers. With a finger hooked under her chin, he lifted her face so that she was forced to look into his smoky eyes.

  "Do you want the situation to remain complicated?"

  "No," she admitted with a ragged breath. "It's just that he's an old friend. He's had a difficult time."

  Looking to
ward the house, Dean seemed to consider his words before glancing back into her face. "I see. Then perhaps I was wrong to come here, my apologies." With a brush of his lips against her forehead, he turned and walked away.

  With feet frozen in place, Angie's mind struggled to make sense of what she felt compelled to do. She had never been an impulsive person. Every minute of every day, for the past six years had been meticulously planned and scheduled. That's what worked for her. That's how she wanted her life to be…until now.

  "Dean?" It was intended to be more than a whisper but her voice failed. Try again. "Dean." Her feet broke free of their asphalt prison bonds and carried her across the street. As he was reaching for his car door, he stopped. Without a word, he slowly swiveled around.

  "I…I changed my mind. My situation isn't that complicated. Would you like to come inside?" she stuttered. Stop being a blubbering fool. He's only a man, for crying out loud.

  "If my presence won't make your personal life more difficult, then yes. I would like that."

  The magnetic force pulling her towards him was stronger than the emotionally traumatized mind of the country girl from Arkansas. His powerful appeal and seductive persona were more than she could deny. She wanted him, and to hell with the club rumors or the small country of broken hearts he had established, if that was even the case. She was no longer the naïve woman-child whose life had been smashed to a thousand pieces. Instead, she was a jaded, street smart, city woman who knew that relationships were nothing more than a matter of convenience. And right now, nothing would be more convenient than to screw his brains out.

  Standing close enough that she had to tilt her head back to look at him, she allowed his cinnamon scent to wrap around her and fill the hollowness in her heart. "It won't make the situation more difficult for me, though it might be awkward for my friend."

  Carefully tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear, he offered up a partial smile. "We can do this another time if you'd like."

  "I'm not much on waiting. I agreed to tell you my version of the rumors and since you're here, we should have this discussion now." You're not getting away that easily.

  "A woman of action is a real woman indeed. After you," he suggested, motioning for her to lead the way.

  Though he walked a few steps behind, the heat radiating from his body warmed her to the core. She wanted to do more than talk, but since she had agreed and was a woman of her word, she would abide by the formalities of telling him what was promised. Afterwards, she could screw him like there was no tomorrow. A mischievous smile crossed her lips as she walked toward the house.

  Once they were inside, she flipped on the foyer light and was relieved that Cutter hadn't decided to wait up for her. With her nerves on high ex-boyfriend alert, she directed Dean to the kitchen, hoping beyond all hope that Cutter was asleep.

  "I'm afraid I don't keep Jack Daniel's on hand, but I can offer you a glass of wine if you'd like."

  His laughter echoed against the granite of the kitchen counters, giving life to a room that was seldom used. "I only drink whiskey when I'm anxious. Wine would be perfect."

  She waved toward the wine rack. "Your choice," she smiled.

  While he inspected the bottles, she retrieved the glasses. Having come to a decision, he reached for the corkscrew and began to work the bottle. She found his skillful use of the tool impressive. Sitting the glasses down on the kitchen island, Angie watched with new appreciation as he tilted each glass while filling them. Maybe it was the fact that she made her living serving mostly hard liquor, but seeing a man who knew his way around the finer aspects of wine was a turn on. Most of the men she dealt with on a daily basis, drank beer or whiskey, so the sight of Dean's long fingertips clamping the delicate stem of the glass with practiced precision as he poured the dark, red liquid into the bowl, stimulated more than her mind. After pouring the first drink, he cupped his hand under the glass' bowl, twirled the liquid to release the aroma and with a genuine smile, handed it to her.

  "Thank you." Reluctant to mention his obvious knowledge of wine pouring, she silently regarded him while he filled his own glass. With wine in hand, she led him to the living room.

  Taking a seat on the leather sofa, Dean followed suit. With their feet firmly planted on the floor, knees facing one another, they locked onto one another's eyes and quietly savored the flavor of the liquid courage as it passed their lips and coated the back of their throats.

  Curling her legs underneath, she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, took a deep breath and began. "I'll get right down to it if you don't mind."

  "I'd prefer it that way," he said with a kind smile, reassuring her that he was openly prepared for the gossip she was about to toss his way.

  "Mind you, this is just what I've heard." It wasn't her nature to be apprehensive, but each time she’d been alone with the mobile sex machine named Dean, her libido stood at attention.

  It took another nod of reassurance from him before the non-gossiping club owner dove into the rumor mill and revealed the words that had been heard time and time again. After a shaky start, she laid it all out.

  "So you see, it's not the fact that you left one woman for another. It's the fact that you made these woman feel as if you were going to marry them and then you bailed at the last minute. Most women don't mind the occasional non-committal relationship, but leading women on to the point that they believe the two of you have a life together is quite another issue. It's not cool. Anyway, that about sums it up."

  Arching a single brow, he asked, "What were the names of these women I presumably bailed on?"

  Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, Angie took a sip of wine and tried to recall the names, but couldn't. "I don't know."

  "You don't know? I thought these women worked for you?" Leaning back, he swirled the wine in his glass before taking a swallow.

  "They did. I mean, they worked at the club before I bought it." The more she spoke, the less sense the rumors made.

  "I see." He knew she had more to tell because Candy had told him. "What did you do before you bought Bare Assets?"

  "I worked there, but I don't see why my previous employment status matters." Uncurling her leg, she stood. "More wine?" Angie extended a hand to take his glass. Instead of handing it over he stood up next to her. His height caused her to take a step back.

  Towering over her, he lowered his head. "Let me," he said, his expression unreadable as he slipped the glass from her hand. For once in her city life, she didn't argue over the genteel courtesy offered by a member of the opposite sex.

  Snuggling back into her place on the sofa, she not so patiently waited while he went to the kitchen to refill their drinks. Dean Murray did something to her that no one else had ever done. He left her breathless, speechless and trembling in the knees, just as he must have done to dozens of women before her. There was something remarkably special about the man but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

  Handing back the refilled glass, he gracefully sat down next to her, laid one arm across the back of the couch, sipped his wine and smiled. "Now, where were we? Oh, yes, you were just about to tell me your employment history leading up to the purchase of Bare Assets."

  With quiet determination, she held his gaze and answered. "I was a dancer."

  "Where did you dance?" He obviously knew, but the sound of her voice was sweeter than a grand orchestra.

  "I was a stripper at Bare Assets." If he was surprised by the revelation, he didn't show it.

  "Do you remember seeing me in the club before you owned it?"

  Dancers often mingled with the customers and doubled as waitresses, so the fact that she couldn't remember seeing him before purchasing the business was unusual. A fact she had considered earlier that evening. "You weren't a customer, were you?"

  "No, I never stepped foot in the place until Candy started working there. When she told me she had the job, I gave her two conditions. She couldn't dance and I would come by to check on her. I want to
make sure my little cousin is safe. So, let me see if I have this right. You don't remember hearing the gossip about me before you purchased the place? You don't know the names of the women I supposedly mistreated and the rumors didn't begin until Candy came to work?"

  "That's right. Oh…wait a minute," she said, snapping her fingers as if a light bulb just went off. "You come into the club to check on her but you never associate with the dancers or watch them on stage. You really are a devil. Did Candy start the rumors to keep the girls from coming on to you when you visit?"

  The Oscar winning smile returned to his face. "Bingo."

  Snuggling further into the plushness of the sofa, she covered her mouth with her fist and giggled. "Well I'll be damned. It worked."

  "Yes it did, better than I would have preferred since it made it practically impossible to get you to give me the time of day. It seemed brilliant at the time, though. I can come in, eat, drink and check on my cousin. Not a single dancer attempts to distract me from my second reason for visiting the club."

  Open your mouth, swallow the bait and bite. "Which is?"

  "To sit with my double shot of Jack and coke while watching the most magnificent bartender slash club owner, in Dallas, Texas, work her magic."

  "You must be a glutton for punishment. I was awful to you!"

  "It was a small price to pay for pure, unadulterated entertainment," he smirked.

  "You are insufferable," she teased.

  "And you are beautifully intelligent. You also happen to be one of the strongest women I know. Do you realize it took me two years to work up the courage to have Candy lure you into the VIP room?"

  "I'm glad you found your courage."

  "I am, too. But admit it. You weren't originally thrilled with the idea."

  "You are right about that. I don't care for surprises, especially at work. I will however admit that was the best spent ten minutes I have had in a long time. The birthday surprise turned out to be the best one I've had in just about forever." Now that her end of the bargain was met, she was ready to reel him in for the kill. She wanted to toss him around in her bed and find out if his kisses were an indication of his other abilities.