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Countertops were usually littered with empty glasses or bottles of liquor, but not here, Lilah’s counters were bare, the glasses in a perfect line on the shelf. Finn strolled to them, took one down and then rummaged through the cabinet for a bottle of liquor. He didn’t need to be drunk to sleep with this stranger, but he could use something to quiet the voice telling him he was making a colossal mistake. And being a total jackass.
Shit.He paused and raked his fingers through his hair.What am I doing?
The dancer was beautiful, probably nice. And not who he wanted. But no one else had to know what a piece of shit he was for taking his pleasure from one woman while he wanted another.
“Looking for something?” a woman’s voice asked behind him. “I didn’t think you were in town tonight?”
He straightened and turned, coming face-to-face with the dark-haired dancer and couldn’t help his smile. She was still wearing that kinky little mask.
~ ~ ~
Holy fuck!Gretchen froze with her hand on the knob. When Grant told her she had someone waiting in her room, she’d assumed it was Corey ready to pretend to have sex with her. She hadn’t expected Finn. She’d seen him with Grant before her dance, but that didn’t explain why he was in her room. From everything she’d heard about Jay Finley, he steered clear of the girls and their private rooms. She’d been counting on that being true.
Finn’s lips curved up and her heart plummeted to her stomach with a sickening crash as panic began to swell in her chest. Thank God she’d worn this stupid mask tonight. Maybe she could get him out of her room without blowing her whole damn case.
“Were you expecting someone else?” He twisted the top off the bottle, and she watched as brown liquid spilled into the glass on the counter.
“There was a customer last week who . . . uh. Well, he promised to come back,” she lied.
Finn tilted the bottle toward her as if she hadn’t spoken. “Would you like a drink?”
She shook her head. It was a lie. She wanted a drink, fuckingneededa drink, but this situation was complicated enough without adding alcohol to the mix.
Finn’s gaze washed over her. “I heard you were a good girl.”
He didn’t sound like the Finn she knew, his stilted voice mocked her, something he’d never done, not even when he’d called her a child and sent her away.
“I’m not.” She stopped and cleared her throat. She’d been trained to talk without her accent coloring her speech, until now she’d never thought about it. “I’m not that good,” she replied in a perfectly bland voice.
He continued to study her too closely, and she resisted the urge to squirm. Instead, she turned to the door, ensuring it was closed. If her cover was going to be blown to hell, she’d at least like to keep it in this room.
“I saw you dance,” he continued. “I’d say you’re damn good. Have you danced before?”
She choked on an involuntary laugh.
“Something funny?” He raised a brow.
Not funny so much as ridiculous. Finn already knew she danced. She’d coerced him into attending every recital she’d been forced to perform in. “I was a ballerina. My mother wanted me to be poised and graceful.”
He laughed, and the sound warmed her. Instinctively, she met his stare. Never able to resist Finn James’s happiness.
He lifted his glass in a toast. “I’m sure you’ve done her proud.”
She couldn’t help but smile. Her mother would have a stroke if she knew how Gretchen was using those years of dance lessons.
“I don’t think proud is a word I’d ever use to describe my mother’s feelings toward me,” she answered honestly.
Finn nodded slightly and took a sip from his glass.
“Why are you here?” she asked before he could respond to her comment. She needed him to leave before he realized who she was. Her dark wig and blue contacts would only cover her for so long. If Finn had studied her half as much as she had him over the years, he’d soon realize her true identity.
He finished his drink and poured another.
Her gaze fell to his refilled glass. “You need a little liquid courage for what you’re doing?” She couldn’t resist. Finn seemed almost nervous.
His grin came quick and disarming, almost knocking the breath from her lungs. “I haven’t done anything yet, sugar.”
She tensed at the endearment. Who was this man in front of her? Was this the real Finn? Was this the way he spoke and acted when he was away from her family?
