Sin (6 page)

I do, and I’m not going to waste any time playing games with this girl. She’s single—I’m free and life is too fucking short. “Did you hear me, baby?” Her eyes widen. “Are you okay?”

She slides back, her eyes never leaving mine. “I can’t believe you said that.”

“Why?”

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to say you care in the throes of passion?”

I chuckle. “There’s a set of rules that governs when a man can and can’t confess his feelings?” This is the side of Macey that truly fascinates me. She’s a walking
contradiction—a
mixture of “I’m woman, hear me roar” and naïve little girl. “Tell me.”

Her hands are shaky. “Unspoken rules.”

“And that makes it easier for me to understand?”

“No,” she says on a pout. “But you shouldn’t screw with me, Joshua—I’m not up to par right now.”

Screw with her? Is that what she really thinks? “I’ve waited a long time to meet someone like you.”

Her face twists into an unattractive scowl. “Now you’re quoting cheesy lyrics from some love song.”

I can’t help laughing; her self-doubt is endearing. “Think whatever you want, Ms. Taylor. It won’t change the facts.” I lift her off the counter, safely placing her on the floor. “I have a busy day—some of us have to work normal hours.”

“And what if I don’t feel the same way?”

She’s fighting against her own feelings. “Give it some time.” I cuff her backside and she squeals. “Go take a shower. I’ll drive you to your car.”

We arrive at the club by eleven thirty. Glenda and Dave are inside.

“Morning,” Glenda calls, throwing me one of her curious looks. “Have a good night?”

Macey scrambles to the dressing room, leaving me to face her alone. “Revealing,” I answer, accepting the cup of coffee she slides my way.

“There are two dozen roses over there.” She points to the hostess booth by the front door. “Did you send them?”

I shake my head. “Who are they for?”

“Macey,” she answers, slicing another lime. “Arrived an hour ago.”

I walk to the booth and snatch the envelope off the bouquet. It’s not sealed, so I open it.
Forgive me. I love you. Wesley.
I’m tempted to rip it in half and throw the goddamned flowers in the dumpster out back. Instead, I replace the card, accepting that Macey had a life before I met her. Doesn’t mean I like it. And it definitely doesn’t mean I’m going to let that asshole near her again. I don’t like the way he touched or talked to her last night or the fact that he cheated on her. Some things are unforgivable.

I need something to take the edge off. “Throw some Baileys in my coffee.”

“This early?” Glenda asks, dumping the shot in my cup. “So there
is
something going on between you and my girl?”

I claim the closest bar stool. “Is that the latest gossip?”

“Doesn’t take a genius to figure it out,” she says sardonically. “You popped Wesley in the face and evacuated her from the club like there was a fire.”

“Merely doing my job.”

“Hah!” She drops her paring knife, then wipes her hands on her smock. “I’d like to read your job description.”

I’ve heard stories about Glenda. She’s invaluable and I like her. I get what she’s saying; she’s concerned about Macey. So am I. Hell, I can’t stop thinking about her. I know my heart is acting stupid. If I’m going to pursue a meaningful relationship with her, I need Glenda on my side.

“Nothing escapes you.” I take a gulp of java. “You’re right—we were together last night.”

“Together together?” She sounds like she’s in high school.

“Is there any other kind?”

She rounds the bar, then sits next to me. I shuck my jacket off and roll up my sleeves like I’m getting ready to dig into some serious project work.

“How long are you staying here?” she asks.

I set my drink down and look at her. “The club or Corpus?”

“Both.”

“My goal is for the Devil’s Den to make the Travel Channel’s America’s Sexiest Gentlemen’s Clubs list. Beyond that, I haven’t made any definite plans. As for where I intend to live…” I pat her hand reassuringly. “I’m a Texas boy.”

She looks relieved. “She’s a sensitive girl, always has been. Whatever you think you know, you don’t.”

I believe in getting all secrets out in the open. And I know things are moving way too fast, but if Glenda can
help…“Enlighten
me.” I circle the rim of my cup with my finger, waiting, hoping she’ll tell me something that will help me convince Macey I really care. Her reaction to what I told her this morning revealed a lot about her. It lines up with Glenda’s claim, she’s sensitive—
hell,
she’s as fragile as tissue paper.

“Her father—well, he…” She’s verbally stumbling all over the place. “Lost custody of Macey for three years.” She bites her bottom lip now, like she’s already said too much.

Nothing she shares will change the way I feel. “You can trust me.”

“I’ve heard that line before.” Glenda and I both swivel on our bar stools and find Macey standing feet away with her hands on her hips. “Ganging up on me?” She studies my face for an eternity, then focuses on Glenda. “My past stays in the past.”

“Sorry, baby girl.” Glenda hops off her perch and heads for Macey. “He’s easy to talk to.” She gazes over her shoulder at me. “He cares about you.”

Macey lets out a breathy sigh. “Yeah, that’s what they
all
say.” Her cell rings. She digs it out of her purse.
“Hello?…Wesley?
I didn’t recognize the number…” She races to the hostess booth to get away from me, but I can still hear her. “Flowers?”

I fist my hands, rage surging through my veins.

“Yeah, I’m staring at them.” There’s a brief pause. “Beautiful, yes. Wanted? No.” She reappears a second later; tears stain her cheeks and she’s shivering. “I’m headed home.” She doesn’t even look at me.

Glenda jerks her head toward the door just as Macey exits the club. “Go after her.”

I take the last shot of caffeine from my cup. Just when I thought my day was going to be normal. I rush out and find Macey dumping the contents of her small purse on the hood of her Jeep.

“Blasted keys,” she complains.

I stand beside her. “Let me take you home, baby. You’re in no condition to drive.”

“Don’t
baby
me, Joshua.” She snorts. “Between you and Wesley, all this shit feels like a full frontal assault.”

I refuse to be categorized with her ex. “Hey.” I snatch her hand. “I told you last night, I’m not Wesley.”

Her bottom lip quivers. “Sorry.”

I nod, pushing my anger aside. “Did he threaten you?”

“No.” She slams her free hand against the car. “He’s begging.”

“Change your number.”
And the locks on your doors.

I get a
you’re crazy
look. “I’ve had the same one for seven years.”

“All right,” I say, careful not to say anything else to piss her off. “Stay with me for a few days. Let this blow over.”

She glares at me. “I’m not ready for this, Joshua.”

“You should have thought about that before you slept with me.”

She lowers her head and now I feel like an asshole.
Fuck.
I release her and start gathering her things off the hood, shoving them back inside her purse. She doesn’t stop me. Next, I guide her to my Porsche, take out the remote, disable the alarm, and open the passenger-side door. “Get in.”

I take a deep breath while pacing behind my car, trying to rationalize my actions—or possibly talk myself out of them. She’s beautiful, an exotic dancer at the most notorious strip club in town—that’s the negative. She’s also well traveled, intelligent, articulate, funny, and completely mine. The finality of that thought hits me like a goddamned sledgehammer. I contemplate the reasons—just so I know I’m not fucking insane or thinking with my little head. The atmosphere in the Den is so sexually charged, so explosive, maybe it’s clouding my judgment. A beautiful woman who’s already half-naked negates that initial awkwardness in first meetings—what you see is what you get. And with Macey, that couldn’t be truer. She doesn’t hide who or what she is. I’ve never been prone to jealousy—
until now.
She’s everything I’ve never had before and I can’t let anyone get in the way. Not this time.

I’ve never been in love before. Never believed in it after growing up the way I did. Wesley claims he loves me—and that turned out for me the same way it did for my mother. Only I didn’t open my heart the way she did. I watched her fade a little each year. The longer my father stayed away, the more withdrawn she grew. Until one day she decided to stay in bed. That turned into weeks, then months. She didn’t die from pneumonia, she simply gave up on life.

I won’t.

I can’t.

Pride is one of the seven deadly sins. Yet for me, it’s a survival instinct. Do I possess the capacity to care deeply? Yes. To get intimate with someone? Yes. But not enough to change who and what I am. Joshua didn’t hold anything back today. And I believe he
thinks
he’s in love with me. Orgasms have a way of convoluting everything, especially the ones he gives me. I hug my middle, then rock back and forth on my bed. It’s so quiet. My roommate is in Costa Rica until summer. And I never rented the other bedroom after Marisela moved out.

That’s what I need, a serious fix of the Gonzalez sisters. Both found what most girls can only dream about: men who worship the ground they walk on. Husbands who don’t even bat an eyelash if a hot girl walks by. I ended up with an oversexed jock who thinks every girl is fair game. No means yes and yes means no to Wesley. Not that I blame him. He’s a former college football star, rich, and good-looking. Women chase him and he chases back.

I feel terrible for not inviting Joshua inside. He pulled into the driveway and I jumped out, slamming the car door shut before he had a chance to say anything. Once I came inside, I peeked out the window. He sat in the driveway for fifteen minutes, maybe hoping I’d change my mind.

I check Facebook on my iPhone. There are a dozen messages from my friends in Paris. I didn’t even bother letting them know I made it home safely. And Robyn has posted several pictures of her pregnant profile on my home page. I smile. She’s too pretty. I message everyone, but I’m brief. Then I drop my phone on the bed. I hate technology sometimes; everybody knows everyone’s personal business. I don’t know if it’s a curse or a blessing. My message alert sounds and I pick up my cell. A new friend request from Joshua. I roll my eyes, but accept. That makes three thousand friends now. He messages me.

What’s going on, Macey?

Need some time to think.

Why?

Do you always harass the women you sleep with?

No, just you.

Taking a week off.

No.

Already done.

He doesn’t respond and I don’t pursue it. I’m throwing my big post–Super Bowl party next weekend; two hundred people attended last year. That’s where I’ll focus all my energy, making this party the best ever. I search my contacts list and find the caterer I use. I dial and Renee answers. We discuss the menu for twenty minutes—she gives me a preliminary quote of three thousand dollars. The price doesn’t faze me; it includes a team of uniformed servers. Then I dial Robyn.

“I can’t believe you waited this long to call me,” she complains right away.

“Sorry—there’s so much going on.”

“I’m coming over.”

“Now?” I ask.

“Now,” she confirms.

Before I can discourage her, she disconnects.
Great.
I hop off the bed and rush to my bathroom. I look like shit. My eyes are puffy and red and I’m pale. I shrug. Hopefully another hot shower and a sexy dress will cover up the pain I feel.

“John Legend?” Robyn asks as she steps inside my house. “ ‘All of Me’?” She places her hand on her hip and I know she knows.

I shrug innocently. “I’m in a mellow mood.”

She snorts. “My husband is best friends with Wesley,” she reminds me.

Of course I’m horrified that my ex got to tell his side of the story first. “Good.” I play it too cool. “Then you already know what a lying, cheating prick he is.”

“Yes,” she answers quietly, placing her bag on the couch. “He behaved like a caveman and wants to make amends.”

I fling my hand up, angry she’s trying to get us back together. “No chance.”

“Why?”

“He cheated, Robyn. Slept with some tramp he met while I was away.” I glare at her. “Whose side are you on, anyway?” This isn’t the same girl I knew a year ago. She’s in love with the perfect man. “If Garrick had an affair, would you forgive him?”

“I don’t know. I’d at least give him a chance to explain before I cut him out of my life.”

“Well, I’m fucking happy for you,” I snap. “That’s not how I roll, girlfriend.”

She sighs, then plops down on the end of the sofa. “We’re not taking his side, Macey. In fact, Garrick is beyond angry, trust me.”

“What else did Wesley tell you?”

“That he’s had a change of heart.”

I arch a brow. “Really?”

“He’s acknowledged how foolish and impractical he’s been, letting his parents interfere with his feelings for you.”

I hold my hand up, stopping the conversation dead in its tracks. “Come with me.”

She follows me upstairs to my office. I open the door and head directly to my desk. I fumble in a drawer and pull out a bank statement. “This should put an end to any thoughts you have about playing Dr. Drew for Wesley and me.”

She studies the document, then looks at me. “I didn’t know.”

“No,” I confirm. “You didn’t.”

“What are you trying to say? He changed his mind after he found out about your financial independence?”

“Exactly.” She hands me the paper and I stash it in the desk. “We’re history. Sorry I yelled.” Tears bubble in the corners of my eyes again. I palm them away, then open my arms. “Look at you, beautiful. Boy or girl?”

We embrace. Then she pulls back a little, her face glowing with unadulterated joy. “Boy.”

I rub her tummy like she’s a Buddha statue. “Names?”

“Jesse Harmon and Noah Patrick are my top picks.”

“I love both.”

We head to the kitchen and I make some herbal tea. “How’s the blood pressure?”

“Stabilized, but I still take long naps every afternoon.”

“And Marisela?”

“Pregnant.”

We both giggle. How often do sisters get knocked up at the same time? “Don’t look at me like that—there’s no hat trick. I’m not getting pregnant, too.”

“Well.” She shrugs. “A girl can dream.”

“There’s more…” I place our cups on the table, then sit across from her. “I met someone.”

“Joshua?” She gives me an appraising look, a sly smile creeping over her face.

I throw my hands up. “What the hell?”

“Hey.” She reaches for my hand. “Who do you think helped him upgrade the security system at the club? Garrick did. I tagged along one afternoon and met him. We sat in his office for a couple of hours while Garrick tested the system.”

“And?”

“Well, he seemed overly curious about you.”

I lean back in my chair, completely surprised. “I thought Darren filled him in on everyone.”

“Joshua had a short list of girls he wanted to know more about. You were at the top.”

Everyone’s a mind reader lately. I decide it’s time to face one of my
fears—admitting
I like him. “I slept with him,” I blurt. I shield my face with both hands, trying to avoid her stern look.

After a long pause in our conversation, I peek around my fingers. She crooks her eyebrows at me. “Rebound sex?” she asks.

“No,” I assure her. Anything but.

She inhales and I prepare for a butt chewing. But it never comes. Instead, she gives me one of those dazzling smiles that could disarm a large army. “Bring him over for dinner.”

What’s going on in that beautiful mind of hers? I’m done guessing where and what she’s doing right now. The club is slow, which doesn’t help. I’ve already finished the liquor order for next week, mingled with the customers, helped Glenda wash dishes, shot three games of pool, and taken over the security monitoring for over an hour. I’m out of options. My shoulders jut upward in anger when I imagine her spending time with her ex. That’s not fair. She’s done nothing to make me suspicious.

I slip outside to call her.

“Macey?”

“Hi, Joshua.” She sounds tranquil.

“Feeling better?”

“Much,” she says. “How’s business?”

“Frustratingly slow.” I know she’ll read between the lines of that comment. “I need to know…”

“We can see each other.”

That gives me a reason to smile. “What changed your mind, baby?” Just as I’m about to say something else, I hear, “Joshua?” I spin around and,
holy shit,
my ex is standing by my car. “Macey,” I say. “Can I call you back?”

“Sure.” She hangs up.

I shove my phone in my front pocket and gape at Julia. “What are you doing here?” I walk toward her, a not-so-happy look on my face. “Thought we settled things on the phone the other night.”

“Hello to you, too,” she shoots back. “It’s not that simple.”

She’s unusually
aggressive—something
I’m not used to. In fact, now that I think about it, she’s changed over the last year so much, I’m not even sure there’s anything left of the girl I fell in love with years ago. She needs to leave. “Yes it is.”

“Who were you talking to?” she asks. “Thought I heard you say the name
Macey
.”

I squint at her; she’s always had ears like a hawk. “Nothing for you to worry about,” I say, losing patience. I’m not about to discuss my love life with her. “Go home, Julia.”

“Mother wants to see you.”

I chuckle at the casual reference, as if I’d still call her that. “Send my regards.” My bad feelings don’t extend to her parents, but they raised a certain kind of daughter—the type who throws temper tantrums until she gets what she wants. Of course I was pussy-whipped for so long, I didn’t see her numerous flaws until after she cheated on me. She turns her head and grimaces at my Porsche. “I thought you were going to sell that thing.”

My father drove his 1995 911 GT2 nearly every day. I resent her disapproval of something that means so much to me. “How’s that Prius?”

“Don’t be smug,” she says.

“Don’t be a bitch.” I can’t do this, not anymore. “I’m going inside.”

I open the door, only to have her slip under my arm. She freezes, taking in the sights and sounds.

“Good God, Joshua.” She’s staring at the main stage.

Desire is stripped down to her G-string—doing a handstand against the pole. “Former Olympian,” I joke.

She follows me to the bar. “Glenda,” I call. “This is Julia Henderson. Give her whatever she wants.”

Glenda smiles, then drops a cardboard coaster on the counter in front of her. “Name your poison.”

“Uh—” She’s tongue-tied.

“A Manhattan.” I turn to Julia, fully expecting a slap.

“That’s not what I drink,” she pouts.

“Seemed appropriate.” I’m determined to make her uncomfortable. “She’ll have a cherry vodka sour.”

After the drink is made, I escort Julia to my office. I sit behind my desk. “This can’t happen again.”

She explores the room, running her fingers over the familiar artwork that used to hang in my workspace in our apartment in New York. “What happened to us, Joshua?” She looks at me intently.

I scrub my face with both hands, loathing the need to explain. “Remember the phone call?”

“Come on,” she urges. “Let’s try to have a mature conversation.”

“All right.” I fold my hands. “After spending some time alone I think it’s safe to say we made a mistake. We have different
ambitions—separate
dreams. You’re interested in what the world can do for you. I approach it from a more symbiotic standpoint. Give and take.”

She clicks her tongue. “Since when did you become a great humanitarian?”

“Not what I said.” She takes her psychology degree a little too seriously. “You’re high maintenance, Julia. And I’ve simply outgrown it. I want a relationship with a woman who doesn’t need to be the center of attention all the time. Who isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty. And quite frankly, someone who cares about me.”

She sits on the sofa, staring at me. “Is that your way of telling me you’re back on the market?”

I sigh impatiently, ready to shed her like a dirty pair of socks. “Interpret it any way you wish.”

She takes a long sip of her drink, stretching her long legs out. “Is this really why your father spent a hundred thousand dollars on your education? So you could work here? Will this be the Camden legacy?”

During my years in New York I spent two weekends a month volunteering at the local soup kitchen. I developed friendships with several people who relied on the meals we served. Good people who didn’t have the opportunities my family provided me with. It gave me a different perspective on life, and an intolerance for snobbery—even from the beautiful woman I used to bang. “You’ve made your point. You disapprove of my lifestyle. Clark is a much safer bet, Julia. He’s everything I’m not.”

She scrunches her face. “How do you know?”

“Let’s just say I’ve done some research. Get married—have a half-dozen kids—a couple of affairs—and by the time you hit forty, you’ll end up on some gossip rag of a television show covering your high-profile divorce.”

“That’s the fate you envision for me?”

I shrug. “For you and a hundred other Texas debutantes whose daddies forgot to give them spankings when they desperately needed them.”

She empties her glass and slams it down on the nearest side table. “Bastard.”

I grin, satisfied I’ve made my point. “Maybe,” I say. “But I still have a clean conscience. What about you?” Her pupils are dilated.

Her hands fist at her sides. “There’s nothing I can do to regain your confidence? To get you to love me again?”

I rub my chin, pretending to think it over. “No.” She doesn’t need to know how many nights I got drunk or how many things I smashed. “Ready to go?” I stand.

“Almost…I had
thought—well—what
if we saw each other socially. Maybe if we…”

“Julia,” I say, shaking my head, thoroughly exasperated with her refusal to accept my rejection. “I’ll escort you outside.”

She heads to the door that opens into the club.

“No.” I unlock the emergency exit. “This way.”

Her Prius is parked a couple of spots over from my car. I offer my hand. “Take care of yourself, Julia. I really do wish you the best.”

She refuses to shake, and instead stands on the tips of her toes, then kisses me.

“Joshua?”

We both look up.
Macey.
She’s standing a few feet away, a smirk on her pretty face.