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“Is it a problem?” Cassie repeated, rolling her eyes. “Is the sun going to shine tomorrow? Yeah, it’s a problem. Well, I mean, men are men, right? They see a good-looking woman, they figure, hey, why not? It was bad enough when I was dancing—you wouldn’t believe how many idiots think a woman who strips down to a G-string in front of maybe a thousand people a week is actually trying to personally turn them on—but now that I sashay around the casino floor with a tray in my hand, dressed in a little black skirt and fishnet stockings…” She gave a noisy sigh. “Like I said, men are men.”
“Oh.” Dawn hesitated. “But when I’m a dealer, I’ll be wearing pants and a jacket. You know, the standard uniform. So I won’t have to worry about—”
“Are you kidding?” Cassie grinned. “You’re good-looking. You’re breathing. You wear a giant paper bag, maybe they won’t come on to you. Look, don’t worry about it. You learn to deal with it.”
“How?”
Cassie’s smile faded. “Oh, honey, what is it? You’ve got a look in your eye that says some son of a bitch laid his hands on you wrong.”
Dawn put on what she thought of as her neutral face. Nobody was going to know anything about Harman. Not ever. That was something else she’d learned in the shelter, not from any of the counselors but from the other women. Don’t trust anybody, they’d told her, don’t tell them who you really are or where you really come from or why you left your man because even if they don’t mean to, they’ll whisper it to their closest friends and their closest friends will whisper it to their closest friends, and before long your secret is out and your man will find you, he’ll come for you, he’ll—
“No,” she’d said a little more earnestly than she’d intended. “No, it’s not that. I just—I never thought about having to deal with—with men as part of the job.”
“Dealing with men is always part of the job,” Cassie had replied, with a look that suggested Dawn had been born under a cabbage leaf. “Listen, guys are idiots. And some places I’ve worked, well, the management’s made up of idiots, too. But not here. You develop a line of patter, you know, stuff about having a boyfriend who’s six-foot-six, or a sick mother waiting at home, whatever works for you, and if you’ve still got a problem with some bozo, you tell Keir. Or security. Dan Coyle’s guys will handle it.”
Becky had offered similar advice when she’d started training in Special Services. And, sure enough, on her second day a VIP had asked, very politely, if she’d like to come up to his suite and join him for champagne and caviar. Dawn had thanked the man and demurred in such a way that he understood that drinking with guests—more to the point, sleeping with guests—wasn’t part of the plan. Not the hotel’s, and definitely not hers.
“Carter? Good morning.”
Dawn swiveled her chair around. Keir O’Connell was lounging in the doorway, arms folded, taking up most of the space, which was only reasonable when a man was that tall and that broad-shouldered.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Just fine.”
Keir grinned. “Liar.”
“No, no. It’s true. I’m fine. I’m…” Color flooded her face. “You didn’t ask me how I was feeling, did you?”
“Nope.”
“You only said good morning,”
“That’s what I said, all right.” He smiled. “So, you’re a nervous wreck, huh?”
“Me?”
“You, Carter. And don’t panic. I couldn’t tell by looking at you.”
“Why would you? I don’t feel—I don’t feel…” Dawn blew out a breath. “Okay. I’m nervous.”
“Yeah, I figured. You don’t need to be.”
“That’s probably what the executioner told Marie Antoinette.”
“He probably told her exactly what I’m going to tell you,” Keir said, laughing. “The crowd’s going to love you.”
“I hope.”
“I know. Trust me, Dawn. You wouldn’t have gotten this job if I didn’t think you could handle it. Oh, before I forget…my mother said to tell you to break a leg.” He smiled. “But not literally.”
“Oh, that’s nice of the Duch—of Mrs. O’Connell. Thank her for me.”
“Sure. She’ll probably stop by at some point, just to say hello and see how things are going.”
“She’s really better, then? Her heart—”
“Is healing just fine.”
Dawn smiled. “I’m glad to hear it.”
