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The command in his voice...God. No. I did not want a domineering man.
“How much do I owe you?”
“It’s fine.” Thelma had given me money to grab groceries, so technically, he owed her, but I’d reimburse her. Add it to my stack of bills.
I stepped back. He was walling himself off, and I found it alluring. I couldn’t be that girl. I was old enough to know better. I was not going to be intrigued by a guy who made himself off-limits. “Can we talk on the porch?”
Before we got to negotiations, I wanted to ensure he knew who he was hiring. I’d had parents in LA get upset when they learned their kid’s teacher was a burlesque dancer, as if they’d looked up anything about burlesque performance beyond the bare skin.
If he hired me, then fingers crossed he was the discreet man I assumed he was. I couldn’t have the kids overhear. Crocus Valley was a small town, and I had no idea how the residents would react to my line of work. More like my former line of work. I had no idea what I’d do for a job. I didn’t have money or time to build another name. Frederick would make sure Fannie Grace wasn’t a desired act to book, and I was already making life more challenging for Thelma. She didn’t need to bitch people out on my behalf.
He stepped out onto the covered porch. There were two dusty wicker chairs I wasn’t sure would hold my weight, much less his. I drifted to the railing and stared out at the quiet street. A large willow tree swayed in the breeze in the yard of the adjacent house. Green leafy trees lined both boulevards, and tall junipers that needed trimming pushed against the railing of the deck. “I need to discuss the job.”
“Yes.” He stood several feet away from me, his arms crossed over his impressive chest. What would he look like without his shirt?How the turns have tabled, Grandma used to say. Look at me, thinking the same thoughts I held against men over the years. “Like I said, I’m flexible on salary and hours.”
“I’m a dancer, Mr. Knight.” Formality seemed more appropriate right now.
His brows crashed down. “Cody, please.”
A deep, feminine part of me let out a dreamy sigh. “Cody it is.” I almost purred the words.Rein it in, Tova!
A muscle in his jaw jumped, but he didn’t react otherwise. “Are you trying to tell me that if you find a dancing position, you’ll have to quit?”
“Sort of.” I’d have to leave to make a living dancing. “I’m trying to be transparent. When I was in my early twenties, I was in different dance troupes and auditioned for bit-acting roles. Then, for the last seven years, I’ve been a burlesque dancer.”
A furrow creased his forehead, and this close, without the distraction of his kids, I got a good look at him. His skin had a tanned, ruddy quality to it, like he’d spent a lot of time outside. He wasn’t leathery, but the roughness added a manliness to him that reminded me of the Marlboro man Thelma and my grandma used to gush about.
Even I’d ride that cowboy, Thelma used to say, and Grandma would cackle, and they’d tell me I’d understand when I was old enough.
I got it now.
“How old are you?” he asked. He shook his head. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“It’s no problem. I’m thirty-three.” I watched for his reaction.
Relief filled Cody’s face, and he coughed out a rough laugh, the sound rusty, like he didn’t get to do it much. “Thirty-three,” he murmured.
Memories of Frederick’s reaction and why rose. “Is that an issue?”
“Not at all. I was afraid you were younger.”
“Oh.” Afraid? Age wasn’t usually a good thing in my field. At twenty-six, I’d been asked how I could build a dancing career when I was already at an advanced age.
“Okay, so you’re a dancer.”
“Burlesque, Cody.” I waited for understanding, searching his eyes, waiting for theOhmoment, and then thewhat kind of show will she do for me?look. Not every club owner and venue manager was like that if they were into women, but I’d been around long enough to be ready to protect myself. “It’s adult dancing, sensual, a little comedic. I think of it as theater adjacent, but, uh, burlesque is sometimes described as a striptease.”
He blinked. Blinked again. His gaze intensified on mine. “Striptease,” he echoed.
“I undress down to mostly topless. I mean, I wasn’t covered by much, and I always had pasties—like stickers—or tassels on my nipples.” The last word drifted off, and my face blazed. I refused to be ashamed of a profession I worked hard in and made enough of a living so I could provide long-term care services for my mom. So I was never embarrassed about my profession, but saying nipples around Cody hit differently. It landed lower, but also made me wonder...What would it have been like to perform when he was in the crowd?
“Tassels.” His jaw sawed back and forth. Was he angry?
“I’m only telling you out of professional courtesy. I know how people can be and the assumptions and judgments they make. I’m proud of what I’ve done and how far I’ve come, and I’d still be successful if it hadn’t been for—” I gave my head a shake. I was rambling. Because he was listening, and I didn’t sense judgment from him.
“The bad relationship you left?” he asked, concerned. He crowded me, taking a step closer, and I was anything but threatened. The strongest urge to sink into his hot embrace hounded me. I kept my feet rooted. If I was working for him, embracing was the last thing we should be doing. The ideas sparking in my brain were all naughty.
But I bet he’d be good at all of them.
