Married a Stripper

  “Just think. In a while, you’ll be part of that drama.” She winked at me.

  That didn’t help my stomach at all. Nor did my vivid imagination, which was currently spinning up sordid tales about how Flynn had convened an emergency family meeting—did they have those?—about how he and I had met before, had a torrid affair and he’d spent a long, lusty afternoon snapping pictures of me naked. Then we’d parted angrily and I’d, out of a vengeful need to get back at him, gone after his brother, just to hurt him.

  Which of course was bullshit, but it wouldn’t take much to convince Edward’s mother of that. I could already tell she was looking for a reason to dislike me. Flynn had one ready-made.

  An active imagination was both the gift and the curse of being a creative person.

  “Hey,” Kendra said, stirring me out of my misery. “Don’t look so glum.”

  The couch shifted as she plopped down next to me and I found myself being pulled into a one-armed embrace, chicken and all. “You’re gonna see him tomorrow, Gabs. You’ve got a lunch date, right? You’ll see him and everything will feel all normal again.”

  “Yeah.” I stabbed at a piece of chicken and forced myself to sound cheerful. “You’re right.”

  Edward’s hands cupped my face, but the kiss I expected didn’t come. His driver, Paul, stood unobtrusively off to the side as my fiancé studied my face for a long, quiet moment. The concern in his eyes had me fighting the urge to squirm.

  “You don’t look like you’re feeling well,” he said, concern in his voice.

  “I'm fine.” The words came sharper than I’d planned, underscored by the twang of my Tennessee youth. Scowling at myself, I softened my voice as I murmured, “I’m sorry. I just…you and Kendra, both of you. I’m fine. I’m just not sleeping very well right now.”

  I made a show of turning his watch to face me and then leaned in, giving him a quick kiss. “I’ve missed you and I’ve only got forty-five minutes, so let’s not waste it here.”

  “Of course.” Edward glanced over at Paul. “Pick me up in an hour.”

  We walked to one of the nearby cafes and found a table outside, crammed under a red and white striped awning. It was busy but not insanely so.

  “This is one of my favorite places,” I said, sighing as I caught the smell of French fries and burgers. “It’s not quite as good as our favorite place, but sometimes a good burger just hits the spot.”

  We talked for a few minutes and I could feel the tension draining away as we placed our orders and sipped icy soft drinks, the condensation forming on the cups almost the second the server placed them in front of us.

  Edward looked like he was having some trouble sleeping himself, dark circles lying under his eyes.

  I was about ready to say something when the server brought our food out. As she departed, Edward studied a burger that was nearly half the size of the plate. “I’m supposed to eat all of this?” he asked.

  “I never do.”

  “You probably should.” He picked up the burger and smiled at me. “If you’re not sleeping well, you might be coming down with something. You want to make sure you’re eating well to keep your strength up.”

  Irritation started to build inside, but I told myself I was being stupid. He was just concerned. I was lucky to have a guy who cared that much.

  “I’m not getting sick,” I said after I swallowed the bite I’d just taken. If my mouth was full, I wouldn’t snap at him. “I’ve just been worrying some.” I offered half of the truth. “About money, about Kendra and how she’s going to get by once I’m out of the apartment. That sort of thing.” I made a face and added, “If I could get a for-real writing job, things would get better, but…”

  I trailed off and shrugged.

  “You know, you could move in with me.”

  I jerked my head up, staring at him.

  “What?” He laughed and took another bite of his burger. “You were right, this is fantastic.”

  As if noticing I was still staring at him, Edward smiled. “Gabriella, you’re going to be living with me after the wedding. Why not move in with me now? It would keep you from worrying so much about money, wouldn’t it?”

  “I…” Swallowing, I busied myself with grabbing the ketchup for my fries, all but frowning at them. “It’s more complicated than that. I don’t want to leave Kendra in the lurch. I mean, she’s starting to get more money coming in and the rent control mess is going to get straightened out, but I can’t just up and leave her without letting her make plans, you know?”

  “Of course.”

  The understanding smile on his face made me feel like a heel.

  “You know, with the magazine, I’m sure we’ve got writing positions opened.”

  My hand jerked so hard, I almost knocked over my drink. Steadying it just in time, I blew out a slow, controlled breath and then laid my palms flat on the table. I could feel him staring at me as I struggled to get my emotions level before I answered. Okay, the moving-in thing, I could deal with, even if I wasn’t ready to do that yet. After all, he was right that we'd be living together after we got married. But this…?

  No.

  “Please don’t do that,” I said softly, still staring at the table and my plate of food that still close to overflowing. What I’d eaten now sat in my belly like a leaden weight and I didn’t think I’d be able to eat much more.

  “What?” Edward asked.

  When I looked up at him, I could see his confusion was genuine.

  He didn’t get it.

  But then again, maybe he couldn’t.

  He didn’t know what it was like, perhaps, to work and struggle for something, to know he’d made it on his own.

  “I’m going to do this on my own,” I said, taking the napkin out of my lap and folding it carefully. “Or I won’t do it at all.”

  His head inclined, a shadow falling across his pale eyes.

  Were we about to have our first fight?

  “My writing is mine.”

  Edward opened his mouth and I braced myself.

  “Of course, Gabriella. I understand. I’m sorry.”

  Late that night, I was in bed next to him again. His chest was snug against my back and my body felt almost bruised from the intensity of his lovemaking. We’d come together almost desperately, Edward showing a passion that seemed almost out of place with his normally controlled character. Afterwards, I was so exhausted, I’d thought I'd fall asleep immediately.

  But here I was, wide awake and it was almost one in the morning.

  I eased my way out from under his arm and padded my way over to my purse I'd left on his dresser. Quietly, I made my way into the bathroom, digging around in my purse for the nighttime painkillers I’d been using the past few nights. They rattled around inside my purse, but I couldn’t find them, so I started pulling things out, one by one.

  Gum. Condoms, not that we were using them anymore. Birth control pills. A couple of crumpled ones. A brilliant blue business card, crumpled around the edges...shit.

  My breath caught.

  Immediately, a pair of cadet blue eyes flashed through my mind.

  Flynn.

  I stood there, holding his business card in my hand, my heart racing as memories of that afternoon burned their way through my mind.

  I needed to throw it away. I needed to find the medication so I could get some sleep. Tomorrow, I’d seriously hit the internet and try to find a job that would pay better and maybe wouldn’t suck so much. Maybe I wasn’t entirely stressing over my job, but a better one would help.

  What I didn’t need to do was stand there staring at Flynn’s card.

  I should have crumpled it up and thrown it in the toilet.

  But I didn’t.

  Slowly, I smoothed it out and then, I pulled out my wallet and shoved it inside, tucked behind a picture of me and my parents.

  Four

  “What am I doing?” I whispered.

  My fingers shook as I wrapped them around the ban
ister and I almost turned around halfway up the flight of stairs.

  You’re doing whatever it takes to make sure you sleep at night.

  I’d had another nightmare, one where Edward and I had been getting ready to say our vows and Flynn had come strolling in, passing out a little something for the guests. He’d made hundreds and hundreds of copies of the pictures. His palm prints, vivid red, on my breasts.

  I had to see him and make sure he wasn’t going to tell Edward. Wasn't going to show him...

  That was why I was here.

  That was the only reason.

  Just as I went to open the door, it flew open and a woman came tearing outside. “You are a piece of shit, McCreary. You hear me? You’re slime. Your only value is behind that camera!”

  Flynn appeared in the doorway, a rumpled t-shirt over an equally rumpled pair of jeans. He was about ready to fire something off at her—I could tell by the way he’d been opening his mouth—but when he saw me, he stopped. His head went back and he folded his arms over his chest. Heavy stubble darkened his jaw and he looked so incredibly beautiful, my hands started to itch.

  Because you want to slap him again. That’s all.

  If only I could believe that.

  “Well, well, well…” he said after a moment. He came out into the hall and circled around me, as though inspecting me from head to toe. “If it isn’t the soon-to-be Mrs. Edward Bouvier. And how are you doing today, my sister-in-law?”

  I pinned him with a withering stare. “I need to talk to you.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Inside.”

  He placed his back against the door and gave me a sweeping bow, one that would have done nobility proud. Or at least I thought so. Too bad he preferred to act like a toad rather than a prince. I eased past him and tried to find something to focus on besides the big bed over against the farthest wall, but he had it set up, clearly for a shoot…or maybe he’d been planning another seduction. Probably both.

  “What was that all about?” I asked, the acid in my voice dripping. Nodding towards the hall, I gave him a sweet smile and asked, “Did your flavor of the day decide she didn't want to play with you?”

  “Nah.” He scraped at the short growth of stubble on his cheeks, his eyes burning as he studied me. “She wanted to play, but I wasn't in the mood. She didn’t take it well and since I’m on a timetable for this shoot…”

  He shrugged and shouldered around me. The feel of his arm brushing against my breast was almost painful, it felt so good. My nipples tightened and I turned away, determined not to let him see how good it felt, just to have him touch me again. He’s bad for you…bad, bad, bad.

  “Whatever it is you want, Tennessee, you need to make it quick. I’ve got to get another model in here or I’m not going to get this assignment done.”

  “Are you going to show Edward the pictures?”

  For the longest time, he didn’t answer.

  I heard movement coming from behind me and I made myself turn to face him. He had busied himself with straightening up the set, gathering up what I assumed was the clothing the model had been wearing. I didn’t know. As though he felt my gaze, he finally looked back at me. His eyes were flat and hard, his mouth unsmiling. “I’m not planning on it.”

  I breathed out a sigh of relief. “Can I have them?”

  “Why?” He angled his head, curiosity leaking onto his face.

  “Because…” I frowned. “Well, I just…look, I’ll probably burn them.” I knew immediately that had been the wrong thing to say.

  “Hell, no.”

  He turned on his heel and strode over to what looked like a makeshift, open-air office, a table, a computer, files. After digging through a few piles, he grabbed his phone, then cast me a look so full of contempt that I nearly took a step back.

  “You still here?”

  “Flynn…I…”

  “You can’t have them.” He gave me a glare icy enough to freeze me to the bone. “It’s not happening, don’t ask again. I’m not seeing my work destroyed just because you went and turned prudish on me. But relax. Like I said, I’m not planning on showing Edward. We might not see eye to eye, but he is my brother. I wouldn't do that to him.”

  “Why do you have to be such an asshole?” Glaring at him, I closed the distance between us. I should have known that getting closer to him was the last thing I needed to do.

  “Hey,” he said. “I don't make any bones about who I am and I don't try to be somebody I'm not.”

  The look he gave me was telling. The unspoken words? Equally so.

  “What's that supposed to mean?” I demanded.

  “What do you think it means, sweetheart?” He raked me over with a look and then turned around. “Now you need to get out. I'm not kidding about cutting it close on this assignment. It's a big one and if I mess it up then I don't get another one. I like this job and I like my work. I take it seriously.”

  “You've never taken anything seriously in your life.”

  He spun around, pure fury on his face. He stalked towards me, blue eyes blazing. “You don’t know shit about me or my life, Gabriella. You hear me? You don’t know shit. I’m damn good behind that camera. It’s the one thing I am good at and it’s something that’s mine. My family name didn’t do it and it’s got nothing to do with Bouvier or my mother. It’s all mine.”

  The passion in his voice hit me hard because I recognized it. I felt the same way about my writing. I sucked in a breath, ready to apologize, but he jerked his head toward the door.

  “Now unless you’re planning to take Amber’s spot in this photo shoot, you need to leave.” His tone was dismissive.

  I continued to stare at him.

  “Now,” he said, voice hardening. “Or I call security.”

  The vehemence in his words caught me off guard. I glanced at all the framed images and prints, placed with care on his walls, positioned to maximum advantage. He was right, I thought. I didn’t know anything about his life. Not because of anything I’d done…I would have loved to have gotten to know him, but he’d shut down any chance of that the first afternoon I’d been here.

  “Yeah,” I said, swallowing. “Yeah, okay.” I nodded and turned to leave.

  I don't know what drove me to do it. I was almost to the door when I found myself turning back to him, heart racing. I jutted my chin up. “I keep my clothes on.”

  I can't say who was more surprised, him...or me.

  For a long moment all he did was stare at me. Then he shook his head. “Not a good idea, Tennessee. Your fiancé would have a heart attack.” A mocking smile twisted his lips and he looked almost cruel as he paced closer. “And then he'd probably kill me. This is an assignment. You get that? We’re not playing around anymore. You can’t strip off a few pieces of clothes, toss your hair around and call it done when you get uncomfortable. This is a serious shoot, with specific requirements set out by the client.”

  “I understand. You’ve made it clear you’ve got an assignment,” I said, rolling my eyes. “This all means it pays, right?”

  He laughed and the sound had a wild edge to it. “Oh, yeah, it pays. These are for book covers though, Tennessee. Very public.”

  My skin burned, lust churning in my gut. Guilt followed on the heels of it and I told myself I needed to go, needed to leave. It had been a bad idea to even come here.

  As if he could read my mind, he said, “You don’t have what it takes for this, baby. You would freak out if you saw your body all over the cover of some steamy erotica. Edward would freak out.”

  “I would not freak out.” Indignation slammed through me, drawing my spine straight. I jabbed my finger into his chest. “I was able to strip naked in front of you, McCreary. I think I could handle being in some torrid clench on some paperback.”

  “Uh-huh.” Flynn’s cocky look told me everything I needed to know and it was the final push I needed.

  He didn’t think I’d do it.

  Then a thought hit me and m
y anger died away. “Unless...I mean, your client isn't looking for someone like me.”

  His eyes flickered. “Someone like you?”

  “My hands are one thing.” I looked away as I remembered how gorgeous the woman who'd left had been. “Something like this.” I swallowed hard. “I don't exactly look like that other model.”

  “Are you shitting me?”

  My head snapped up.

  “You're really going to use that as an excuse?”

  “What?” A bit of anger started to burn away my insecurity.

  “If you're going to chicken out, don't act like it's because I don't think you're not gorgeous. Just say you don't have the guts.”

  I felt the same flash of fury that I'd felt when I'd first met him. I flicked him off and he laughed.

  “Still doesn't mean you're not chicken.”

  I let a slow smile spread across my face, the same smile that had gotten me into trouble at the bar. His reassurance, however rudely stated, that I looked good enough for it, had made my decision for me.

  “Does my face have to show?”

  His expression was almost comical. Finally he tilted his head back, as though he was praying for patience. Or strength. Shoulders rising and falling on a sigh, he rolled his neck so that he could see me from the corner of his eye. “I can figure out a hundred ways to keep your face from showing. But we both know you're not going to do it.”

  I glared at him. “As long as I can keep my clothes on and my face doesn’t show, I'm in.”

  He studied me for a moment, and something in my expression must've told him I was serious. “You can stay dressed, but those clothes…?” He shook his head. “They have to go. As to your face?” He snorted. “Don’t worry, Tennessee. It’s not your face I’m interested in.”

  I wanted to slap him for the leer that had accompanied that last remark, but I settled on a cool smile. When I held out my hand to shake, however, he gave me his back, moving to dig around on his desk.