His gaze narrowed on the innocent temptress who captivated the entire place with her sexy moves, her sweet breathless voice, and the simple joy of what she was doing. Singing and dancing, not one inhibition keeping her from just being who she was. He might love his freedom, but he longed for the free spirit singing and dancing before him. He was a better man when he was with her. Because of her.
Pink turned, shook that ass he loved at him, and over her shoulder blew him a kiss as she sang the chorus, “You know you want it.”
Flynn grinned, nodding, and pointed to himself as he mouthed the words, “You know you want this.”
With each turn and twist, each shake of her bottom, Flynn envisioned himself up there with her, laughing and carefree, not a goddamn care in the world. His world was fraught with life-and-death scenarios. There wasn’t a place or a time where he could let his guard down. Not when he knew the danger that lurked around every corner.
The song ended, and for the second time, Pink bowed to the cheers of the crowd. Jamie took her hand and kissed it then exited the stage. This time when she tossed the mic to the DJ, Pink ran from the small stage across the dance floor to their table, where she plopped breathless into the chair beside him.
Beaming happily at him, she grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “Note the day and time! Special Agent Ryker is smiling!” He scowled and she pouted. “Aw, I knew it was too good to be true.”
Controlling the urge to pull her onto his lap and lay a big wet kiss on those pink bubble gum lips, claiming her in front of her adoring crowd, Flynn switched gears. He’d been so captivated by her performance, he hadn’t noticed the table was covered with food. Brisket, corned beef, pulled pork, hot links, fries, onion rings, slaw, and fried pickles. “Let’s eat,” he said.
They both dug in. Flynn nodded in approval when Pink didn’t pick at the food like most women. She ate like she did everything else, with gusto.
“So tell me what you bartered for all those years ago?” Flynn asked.
She popped a fry into her mouth and Flynn watched as she slowly chewed it. “My body in exchange for food and tequila.”
Flynn choked on the piece of corned beef he’d just swallowed. “Liar,” he croaked. He took a sip of his water. “Truth, Pink.”
“Jimmy’s son Jamie was struggling with his math. Since I was a starving student, I tutored him.”
“The same Jamie who just mauled you onstage?”
Laughing, she dunked an onion ring into ranch dressing. “The same.”
“So what kind of math did a molester such as he struggle with?”
“Statistics.”
Wow. “What did you major in?”
“I double-majored. Art and legal studies. I start law school in the fall.”
You could have knocked Flynn over with a feather.
“Where did you go after your mother died?” he asked.
“The foster system. I booked the day I turned eighteen.”
“You put yourself through college?”
“Yup.”
“I’m impressed.” Beyond impressed. She’d been dealt a shitty hand, and instead of allowing it to drag her down, she’d kicked its ass. Never once had she complained to him about her life’s hardships. She had just rolled up her sleeves and gotten to work. He was not worthy.
“You should be, I’m not just a ding-dong cocktail server at a strip bar.”
He reached for her hand, then retracted his, remembering her “no touch” condition. “I never thought you were a ding-dong.” He chuckled. “But I did meet you at a strip club.”
“Indeed you did, and I’m damn good at what I do.”
“You’ll get no argument from me on that.” Flynn set his fork down and asked the burning question. “Do you like it?”
She smiled, her dimple popping. “Maybe a little.”
“What parts?”
“Knowing I have something men want but can’t have. Then there’s the part of me that gives my father the single finger salute each time I put that bikini on. I make no apologies for those feelings.”
“You shouldn’t.” His comment surprised him, but he meant it. That was part of who she was. To tamp it down would be akin to trimming a bird’s wings.
“Tell me about your mom and dad,” she said.
For a long moment Flynn thought about whether he would answer her and if he chose to, how. Then he decided that if he were going to, he might as well tell her the truth. “My mother died of a broken heart. My father, who is still alive, is living as if she never existed.”
“What did he do?”
Flynn laughed, the sound caustic. “He liked his women a little on the wild side. Strippers, to be exact. He brought them home, forced my brother, sister, and I to sit at the same table with them while my mother cried upstairs.”
“Oh, Flynn, I—that’s awful.” Her head snapped back. “You must really despise me.”
Was she crazy? “Why would you say that?”
“Because we met in a strip club and I stripped?”
Flynn reached for her hand and this time he didn’t stop himself from touching her. “You’re not like those women. Those women were predators. They came on to Mal and me to get more out of my father.” Running his fingertips along her knuckles, he continued, “You’re not self-serving, selfish, or conniving.” He brought her hand to his lips. “You see the bad in people like me and yet,” he pressed his lips to her skin, “you still believe we have good in us.”
“You’re not a bad guy, Flynn,” she breathed.
“I want to do bad things to you, Isa.”
His groin tightened when her nostrils flared and her fingers tightened around his.
She swallowed hard and licked her lips. Flynn groaned. “If you let me do all the things to you that I wanted to do, I’d never let you go, and you’d hate me for that.”
Pink nodded, her eyes full and dark. Her pulse beat wildly in her neck. The urge to press his lips to it was almost overwhelming. “I’m going to pay the bill, Pink. I want to go home.”
“And then what?” she asked, a raspy edge to her breathless voice. His dick strained against his jeans.
“The bad guy wants to take you to his bed and strip you down.”
“And the good guy?”
Flynn grinned. “He wants to take you to his bed and strip you down, just more politely.”
Pink’s lips formed a silent “Oh.”
Flynn stood, dug for his wallet, pulled out several bills, and tossed them onto the table. He grabbed her hand, and said, “Don’t let either one of them near you.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
Izzy didn’t. Let Flynn’s angel or devil near her. Saying good night to him and walking down the hall from where he stood at his bedroom door watching her had been ridiculously hard. That it was so hard confused her. Her yo-yoing feelings, should she or shouldn’t she, confused her. She accepted how she felt about Flynn, God help her; she wished the attraction would lesson, but no, every minute she spent with him made her want to spend more minutes with him. Intimate minutes. She craved his hands on her. She wanted him to smile for her and her only, and tell her he would lasso the moon and give her the stars if she but asked for them. She was, she realized, falling head over heels in love with a man who refused to feel.
She was hopeless, and yet, hopeful. Afraid. If she threw herself at him, he would take what she was offering, just as her father had taken from her mother. Flynn never gave her what she wanted in return. Not even a crumb. Izzy couldn’t, wouldn’t, live like that; in a constant state of yearning for a man who didn’t care enough to give part of himself to her.
Flinging the sheet from her restless body, Izzy listened to the wind build outside. A March storm was rolling in. The winds had begun to pick up as they rode home from Jimmy’s. A branch scratched along the glass of the French door. Izzy started. The dark shadow of it looked like a large arm reaching over the railing. The scratching grew louder, rain pelted the glass. Mesmerized by the gyrations of the tree branches as they were tossed around by the wind, Izzy’s imagination ran wild. What if the guy in the van had followed her here? Did Flynn have an alarm system? Yes, he did; there was a large control pad just inside the garage door and one at the top of the wide stairway. Had he armed it? Of course he would have. Flynn was diligent that way. He probably slept with a loaded gun.