Falling for Heaven (Four Winds) (7 page)

             
“My name’s Heather.”

             
Surprised, he shook the hand she offered, noticing how smooth her skin was.  It was warm, too, and a jolt of something raced up to his elbow.  “Are we starting fresh?”  She nodded, hesitantly.  “Okay, then.  My name’s Uri.  It’s nice to meet you.”  He flashed her a smile, hoping to ease the obvious nerves that she had. 

             
Her face flushed, and she smiled back at him.  It really was a lovely smile.  Reminiscent of the Mona Lisa, Uri thought.  The breeze ruffled her hair, and he watched longingly, as she swept a tendril off her face.  Uri caught himself wondering if it was a silky as it looked.

             
“How long have you lived here?”  Heather asked.  He noticed she was staring at his mouth, and it made him feel flustered for some reason.

             
“Just a few days.” Uri responded, licking his lips, his mouth suddenly dry.

             
Her eyebrows rose, and she drew her eyes up to his.  “Where did you move from?”

             
He allowed her to ask the questions, knowing that the more she knew about him, the more at ease with him she would be.

             
“Cupertino, California.”  He answered her truthfully.  “I move around a lot for my job,” he offered.

             
“Self-help guru?” 

             
He shrugged, a noncommittal gesture.  Whatever name she felt comfortable putting to it.

             
They walked in silence for a while, Heather occasionally calling to Taco, to keep him near them.

             
Eventually she broke the silence.  “You said the other day you wanted to be friends.  Were you serious about that?”

             
Her question surprised him.  Honestly, humans were so distrusting.  “Of course.  I have no interest in you, romantically, if you’re worried about that.”

             
Almost imperceptibly, her face fell, and Uri stifled an urge to touch her, to reassure her somehow.  Maybe he had worded that wrong.  “I mean, you are an attractive person, I’m just not looking for a romantic involvement.”  He wished he knew what she wanted to hear.  “I just need a friend in this new city.  Someone to show me things, I guess.”  Trying to gain her trust, Uri was attempting to act nonchalant.  He would have thought he'd be better at it.

             
She seemed to think about it a minute, her eyes flashed through different emotions that he was familiar with seeing, disappointment, longing, resignation, and eventually, relief.  He studied her face, watching her reaction.  Uri had to admit, Heather's features were classically beautiful --- her vivid green eyes, alabaster skin, and dark, glossy hair. 

             
Could it be that he was actually attracted to her?  Was that what all these strange sensations were that he got when he was around her?  Granted, he certainly felt impulsive around the girl, but surely he wasn't attracted to her?  Uri wasn't created to be attracted to a woman.  That would mean that he'd be able to develop feelings that would skew his judgment, hinder his ability to do his job.  And the Boss had made sure that he'd always be able to do his job.

             
“I’ve got to go, get ready for work.”  She looked at him, uncertainly.  “Um, do you have a phone number?  We could swap numbers, and get together later, maybe.”  He could see she was trying to be casual, and he hid the disappointment he suddenly felt at her imminent departure.

             
Smiling to hide his embarrassment, he reached into his pocket and retrieved his phone, handing it to her.  She input her number and handed it back.  She then retrieved her own phone from the bag over her shoulder, and handed it to him.

             
“Um…technology’s not really my thing.  Can you do it?”  He was familiar with her iPhone but utterly useless with it.  He had one himself, although it was mostly for appearance’s sake.  A friend had given it to him, as a thank you gift, sort of a joke.  But he carried it around, because everyone had one.

             
Heather laughed at him.  “Not really your thing…”  She typed his number, as he recited it to her, and then slipped her phone back into her bag.  “I’ll text you later, okay?”

             
“Sure.  Have a good evening, Heather.”  Saying her name aloud gave him a little thrill and a sense of relief.  At least she trusted him enough to tell him her real name.  And she agreed to see him again.  He had made a good start.  Finally.

             
Soon, he could tell her.

Chapter 9

              In the common dressing room that the dancers used, Heather listened as the girls discussed their latest woes.  Men mostly, but the topics ran to superficial things like the best hair stylists, body oil, and solutions for razor burn.  Usually, Heather participated in the conversation, if for no other reason than to make the new girls feel better, but today she wasn’t in the mood.

             
Her thoughts kept drifting towards Uri.

             
He didn’t want a romantic thing with her, and she had to admit, that hurt a little.

             
She didn’t want a romantic thing, either.  That was against the rules.  And the rules were good ones.  Romantic endeavors with clients, even former ones, were never a good idea.  Although, for the life of her, Heather couldn’t think why right now.

             
She sighed unconsciously, remembering the way he looked when she had initially walked up to him.  His face was uplifted, as if soaking up the sun’s rays.  His eyes were closed, lashes falling against the tops of his cheeks.  The lock of hair on his forehead shifted in the breeze, and Heather had had to consciously restrain the desire to bend down and kiss his wide mouth.  His body was flexible, bending itself into a position that Heather had only seen men use who had years of yoga training.

             
Watching him there, she had not only felt the familiar white-hot burning sensation, but her gut had twisted impossibly.  She wondered if he was the one to take her away from her life, from her grief, from her duties.  Was he the one who would make her life her own again?  Heather was tired of living her life in order to fulfill self-imposed duties to her family.

             
Dusty’s voice at her shoulder interrupted her thoughts.  "Can you talk to the new girl?  She's having a hard time…"  Heather looked away from her reflection in the mirror and saw that Mama's latest hire, a great dancer, was sitting in the corner, brushing her hair with a sadness in her eyes that Heather was all too familiar with.

             
"Okay.  I'll see what I can do to cheer her up."

             
Walking through the maze of nude arms and legs in the dressing room, Heather tried to remember the new girl's name.  As she neared the girl and saw the rhinestones on the tips of her fake eyelashes, she remembered.

             
"Hey, Glizy.  What's up?"

             
The girl started out of her sad reverie, and pasted a cheerful smile on her face.  "Nothing much, Heaven.  How's things with you?"

             
Heather sank herself into the chair next to Glitzy and patted her arm.  "It's tough, when you're starting out, I know."

             
"You can tell?"

             
"Sugar, your face is longer than the Rio Grande over here."  Heather laughed.  "You get used to it, though."

             
"How have you done it so long?  Somebody told me you'd been here nearly ten years.  I don't want to dance here the rest of my life."

             
"I'm not the norm, but I like it."

             
"Why?"

             
It was the same question Uri had asked her, and Heather struggled to answer the girl.

             
"When I started, I did it for the money.  Hell, I still do it for the money.  I did try to quit once and get a job in an office, but it didn't pay enough."  She cringed at the memory.  Her boss had taken one look at her resume` and somehow word had gotten out.  After all the innuendos, lingering handshakes, and random brushes with near strangers, she'd felt like the office whore.  "So, I came back to it."

             
"I just feel like I'm disrespecting myself by doing this."

             
Heather squeezed her arm, "The clients can tell which of the dancers respect themselves, and they treat us accordingly.  It's a vibe.  You are performing a service, Glitzy.  These men are just letting off steam, most of them are harmless.  They admire us, and pay us well to dance for them, to tease them, to get them all worked up for their wives and girlfriends.  You just show them what you can do, keep them in their place, and have fun."

             
"Do you ever wish you'd done something different?"

             
Heather thought about it, before answering her honestly.  "Yeah, sometimes.  But as much as I try, I can't really imagine my life any different.  I love this job.  Dancing is my life."  On a lighter note, she added, "And I enjoy feeling pretty.  The clients think we're beautiful, and I love that.  Vain, I know."  She started to stand.  "You okay?  This job isn't really for everybody, but you could be really good at it, Glitz."

             
The young girl nodded, then lifted her chin and stared at herself in the mirror.  "Yeah.  I got this.  Thanks."

             
"No problem.  Let me know if you have any problems, okay?"

             
“He’s back.  And he wants you.  Again.”  Dusty's voice behind her sounded dejected.

             
“Who?”  Heather turned to look at her.

             
“Tall, Dark, and Dangerous.”

             
Heather sighed, “You can have him.  I don’t particularly enjoy his company.  He gives me the creeps.”

             
“I wish.  He won’t look at me.  I’ve tried, sugar.  He only has eyes for you.”  She sang that last bit, as she got up and sauntered away.

             
Heather let out a heavy breath, ran a brush through her hair, and got up to go give the man the attention he apparently so desperately wanted.

             
Mama flashed her four fingers from behind the bar, where she was stocking supplies, and Heather made her way to room four, where Damien was waiting, with five crisp, one-hundred dollar bills.

             
“Heaven.”  He breathed when she walked through the curtain.

             
“Hello Damien.”  She purred at him, taking off her bra to expose her breasts, before sauntering over to begin her dance.

             
Her hands roamed over his chest and shoulders, as she pulsated her hips in rhythm to the music.  He reached up and rubbed her back, then her stomach.  As his hands crept up to her breasts, filling his hands with her, he asked, “Have you thought about my proposition?”

             
“Yes…”  She made an effort to keep her voice sultry.  “I can’t do it, Damien.  I’m sorry.”  She turned her back to him, and rubbed her backside on his lap, feeling his erection through his pants, rubbing up and down on it.  She felt something on her back, something that wasn’t his fingers.

             
It was cool, and smooth, like his fingers, but the scent came to her through the smell of burnt matches that this man carried everywhere.  She stilled, panic sending ice water coursing through her veins.

             
She tried to keep her voice even through her rising unease.  “You sent the roses.”  He knew where she lived.

             
“Yes, Heaven.”  The way he said her name gave her chills, and not in a good way.

             
She was silent for a while, digesting the information.  She wasn’t sure how to deal with this.  Damien seemed like a cold man.  His smile was cold.  His manner was cold. His skin was cold.  He had made an inappropriate proposition to her, a job which he had absolutely no idea if she was qualified for.  And now she knew that he knew where she lived. 

             
She needed to get away from him, her panicky brain told her to run, get out of this room as fast as she could.  As if reading her mind, his hands came around her, one reaching around her waist, the other around her neck, effectively blocking any escape on her part.

             
"Heaven…"  Damien inhaled her name, his breath next to her ear.

             
"Damien, I'm not comfortable with this.  You need to let go now."

             
"You would be so good for me, Heaven."  Heather had a sudden desire to change her name.  The way he said it, made it sound dirty.  "I've always wanted something good in this world, but I've never been able to have it."