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Ginger shrugged and dropped the fifty on Stacy’s vanity. “What? I like ro-may-ance as much as the next girl.”
Me, too, she thought sadly as she watched Ginger leave. Unfortunately, “romantic” didn’t really describe the current situation. Dirty dancing for a hot cop who would probably toss her in jail and throw away the key if he knew she’d lied about her identity and impeded his investigation? Not romantic. Try scary, dangerous, reckless.
You’re falling for him.
Okay, yes, the girls were right. The feeling went beyond attraction and into something deeper and far more elemental. But finding it now, with Trevor, didn’t help her predicament. It made already-difficult circumstances darn near impossible.
The dancing was hard, but not as hard as she’d first imagined. Self-consciousness faded after a while because the customers didn’t really see her, they saw a willing canvas upon which they projected their own fantasies. Dancing at Deuces equated to a strange Halloween party. She wore a costume and pretended to be something she wasn’t. And everyone more or less bought the pretense, except Trevor.
He’d seen through her act right from the start. Looked at her, looked for her, and seemed genuinely intrigued by what he found, instead of projecting an identity or expectation onto her. A thrilling and unnerving experience, that. Especially for someone who so often faded into the shadows cast by her wilder, more outrageous twin.
Of course, Trevor thought she was Stacy. In a bizarre way, her sister still held the spotlight, even with a guy she’d never technically met. Kylie wondered how much of Trevor’s interest really stemmed from the “Stacy” role she was playing rather than herself.
Her shoulders slumped. No way to know. Maybe this was why all the experts warned about founding a relationship on a lie?
He sensed the lie. That much she knew. She might intrigue him, even attract him, but he didn’t trust her. And while everything inside her yearned to come clean—to trust him with their secret—she couldn’t confess without breaking her word to Stacy.
Her phone rang. She dug in her bag until she found it, and checked the caller ID. Speak of the devil.
“Hi, Stacy.”
“God, you sound like you just learned there’s no such thing as Santa. What’s wrong? Slow night?”
“No, actually it was busy. I’m just tired, I guess.”
“Yeah, but even so, Ky, it’s not like you to sound so depressed. It’s freaking me out. You’re normally Miss Zen and Centered, even lately, with the cops and all. What’s put you in such a dark place?”
“I don’t know,” she said evasively, then felt bad. Stacy was usually too busy with her own dramas to notice anyone else’s. She must really be worried in order to ask twice. Maybe the time had come to confide in her twin for a change? Kylie sighed. “I’ve been feeling some things, and, um, wanting some things I really shouldn’t—”
“Hot damn, it’s finally happened. Saint Kylie’s thinking about having sex, aren’t you?”
She blinked. Leave it to Stacy to home in on the hormones and ignore the emotions. “It’s more than just sex.”
“Please don’t tell me you’re getting hung up on someone at Deuces.” Her sister’s words conveyed genuine dismay.
“He’s not really part of the Deuces scene. Not normally, anyway.”
“Oh, Kylie.” Stacy’s voice dropped to a horrified whisper. “Not the cop. Have you lost your mind?”
Kylie shut her eyes. “Maybe.” More to herself than Stacy, she groaned, “What am I going to do?”
“Ugh! You need to do the deed and get him out of your system,” Stacy stated firmly.
“You think so?” It sounded risky. What if “doing the deed” had the opposite effect, and instead of getting Trevor out of her system, she grew even more attached?
“I know so. Chemistry screws up your brain sometimes, and makes you think you’ve found a soul mate instead of a playmate. As soon as you give this cop a tumble, satisfy the itch, you’ll start to lose interest. Once, twice—sometimes the third time’s the charm—but trust me, you’ll work him completely out of your head. I’m kind of an expert in this area.”
She couldn’t argue.
“Come home and let’s talk,” Stacy urged. “I’ll help you solve a problem for a change.”
…
“There goes your girl,” Ian observed from across the table. Trevor stared out the window of the all-night diner across the street from Deuces, and watched the yellow Bug zip down Sunset. He tracked her until the taillights disappeared into the kaleidoscope of lights on the strip. What was she thinking right now?
Turning back to Ian, he said, “Yep.”
“Any impressions from tonight?”
