Chapter 18
T here he was. Brody McIntyre, looking all dashing and handsome in his jeans and tee shirt standing outside the front door of Babette’s Gentlemen’s Club. He stood there doing his job, checking out the parking lot and assessing the steady stream of men who entered the building.
Dalia pretended not to see him as she drove around the obnoxious building with its flashing neon sign and to park in the back. She pulled into the only spot and turned the key to kill the engine, ignoring the rattle as it settled down. K.D. Lang singing Crying faded away.
“Huh. Crying. That’s for sure.”
She knew she should open the door, but she couldn’t make her hand grab the handle and pull on it.
This would be awkward. Seeing him in this place jarred her, knowing he knew who she was, knowing he knew why she was there, knowing he knew way too much.
Even though he’d promised to keep her secret, his presence here overwhelmed her.
She was attracted to him. She couldn’t deny that. He seemed to be attracted to her. But how could he take her seriously when she did what she did in this filthy place? Tears cropped up but she blinked them back.
Her life had taken a dramatic turn since that very afternoon when she’d learned she didn’t know who her biological mother was. Of course, she knew who she was as a person, she reckoned, but not where she came from. It left her feeling adrift.
Sobbing erupted unexpectedly. She couldn’t go inside. Not ever again. Her body, her mind, and her very soul all conjoined to refuse to let her enter that lurid place. Her goal of helping her beloved mom fulfill her dream of owning a bakery would never come to be. That shattered her heart.
On the way there she’d stopped at the gas station as usual to change into a flashy red dress and her signature red wig.
Now in her car, she yanked off the wretched wig, pulled off the sparkly fake eyelashes, and used tissues to swipe at her overblown makeup, crying all the while.
She reached behind her seat for her shorts and tee shirt, yanked off the dress her wore, and pulled on her “real” clothes.
It felt fantastic to put on her comfy sneakers, too.
She jumped when a knock came at the window. Embarrassed, she swiped at her tears with the backs of her hands.
“Dalia, open up.” It was a request rather than a command, his voice gentle.
She rolled down the window. Brody took in her reddened face and impulsively touched her wet cheek.
“Dalia, I’d like to come sit with you for a minute. Do you mind?”
She shook her head; she didn’t mind.
He went around the vehicle, got in the passenger side, and immediately moved over to take her in his arms. Never having felt so vulnerable in her life, Dalia lost all control and cried piteously into Brody McIntyre’s shoulder.
Silently, he stroked her hair as she let it all out.
When she couldn’t breathe anymore, she backed away and rummaged in her purse for more tissues.
She wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and leaned into her door, as far away from him as possible.
“Oh lordy. I’m so embarrassed. I’m a mess in more ways than one. It’s sweet of you to sit with me through this torrent of tears.”
“I’d sit with you through anything, Dalia.”
She stared at him in disbelief.
“Brody, I’m an unwed single mother who takes her clothes off for a living. And I’m a basket case. Not exactly dating material.”
“I’m not looking for a date. I’m looking to get to know you better. The real you. Not Scarlett Blaze the stripper with the fake get-up and fake persona. And not the you who wears those godawful shoes.”
She couldn’t help but crack a grin. How she hated those stupid stilettos, which she’d thrown in back. Lifting her left foot and plopping it on her right knee, she showed off the sneakers she wore. “These are more my style.”
“Now those I like.” He patted the shoe. The simple gesture pleased her in its playful intimacy. “Listen, Dalia, I’d love for us to get to know each other better. What do you say we start by going to the diner down the street to grab a bite?”
“You mean after work? I’ve decided I can’t go back to work in there.” She pointed at the club. “Not ever again.”
He came to attention at that. “Okay. How about now? There’s extra staff on security tonight. They won’t even miss me. In fact, I think I’ll quit, too. The loud music is driving me nuts.”
“Me, too. It’s all driving me nuts.”
“Okay then, let’s go eat.”
His smile sent a hot shiver up her spine. That urge to kiss him cropped up again, like the last time she saw him at the Farmers’ Market, but she shoved it away.
He left his car at the club and rode with her to the diner. Once settled into a booth, he reached across the table and took her hands. “Do you feel like talking about what made your cry tonight? Was it because you couldn’t do that job anymore?”
“That’s part of it. But there’s more.”
The waitress came and took their order. Dalia found that she was ravenous. She ordered pancakes, a fried egg, and coffee. Brody doubled that.
Little by little as they ate, she told the story of Agnes and the surprise of discovering she might have been adopted by the woman she’d always thought to be her biological mother.
He took it all in and when she finished, he said, “Dalia, if you ever decide to investigate that, I’ll do whatever I can to help you. You’ve endured more than anybody should ever have to handle. I hate to speak ill of the dead, but that Agnes was a damned bitch.”
She liked him. That realization crept in and filled her heart. Not only did she want to jump his bones, she liked him. Now that was an interesting state of affairs. She loved talking to him. He listened. He responded wickedly honestly. He was easy to be with.
In other words, Brody McIntyre was trouble and Dalia knew it.
When they went out to her truck, he walked around the classic vehicle. “You know, I’ve always admired this truck in the employee parking lot at the club. It’s a grand old Ford. What year?”
“1947, one of the first in the F-series. It belonged to my dad.” Dalia lovingly ran a finger over the smooth hood.
“It was the first vehicle he ever owned. He had other vehicles throughout the years but never let go of this one. He took great care of it. Even rebuilt the engine at one point with all original parts. This is the original paint color, too, although he had it repainted a year before he died. Forest green. He loved this truck.”
“I can see why. I’m glad you have it.”
“I love it, too.” She swung open the door and got in.
Brody took a final gander at the vehicle and got in. Without hesitation, he leaned toward her. All her self-control went poof, evaporating into the night. She wanted this man. She wanted him desperately.
He cupped her chin as they stared into each other’s eyes, taking in the depth of desire they felt.
Their lips came together in a long, voracious kiss, deep and needy.
They parted, took a breath, and dove in again.
He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her into his strong body.
She ran her hands around him and clung to the back of his shirt to anchor herself lest she float away in a sea of desire. They kissed again and again.
He fondled her hair as he said, “Oh my god, I’ve been wanting to do that ever since the first time I laid eyes on you at the Farmers’ Market.”
“Really? I thought you were arrogant.”
He chuckled. “But did you want to kiss me?” He teased and kissed her again.
“Well, yes, I believe I did. But I didn’t want to get too close because I didn’t want you to recognize me. How long have you known that Scarlett Blaze was little ol’ Dalia Blackburn from home?”
“Since the very beginning, that first time we met at the market. It was this old Ford. It gave you away. I’d admired it at the club and there it was in town.”
“Damn. I’d worried about that but didn’t expect anybody from home to be here.”
“Scarlett Blaze had intrigued me before that. She didn’t fit in.
You didn’t fit in. Of course, that was part of your appeal for all those buffoons in there.
Your aloofness drove them wild and brought them back.
Especially since you never completely stripped.
But when I saw you in town, I knew right away you were the dancer and could see why that job was so hard for you. It wasn’t you at all.”
“Huh. And I thought I was doing a good job of hiding my identity. So much for my powers of deception. I’d make a terrible undercover agent.”
They kissed again, and Dalia knew this was going to go too far if she didn’t stop it. Not that he would take advantage of her but that together they would give in to their bodies’ desires. He surprised her by reading her mind.
“We’d better get home,” he said, “before I die wanting to ravish your body. I suppose we should get to know each other’s minds before we decide about our bodies. Although, I confess, my body has already decided.”
“Mine has, too,” she whispered. “But,” she sighed “yes, we have to go.”
She pulled out of the diner parking lot, drove the short distance to the club, and parked in the same dark spot in the back of the building she’d been in before. Mickey Gilley sang Bring It on Home to Me on the radio.
She took his hand and said, “Good night, Brody.”
“Good night, Dalia.”
Their eyes never veered away as they came in for a good night kiss.
Pressing their bodies together on the broad seat, “good night” flitted away.
Brody pulled her over to straddle his lap.
He nibbled her neck while caressing her pliant breasts.
She ran her hands through his lush hair.
They kissed again. She could feel his ample hard-on through their clothes, causing her body to scream its demand for satisfaction.
She had to have Brody inside her. Immediately. She might die if they didn’t make love at that very instant. He tore off his tee shirt. She pulled hers up and ripped it off. Her bare breasts on his chest sent them both into a frenzy. He cupped a breast and sucked greedily. She screamed in ecstasy.
Getting everything off took some doing, what with the feverishness of their need for each other.
But when flesh met flesh and he slid inside her as easily as if erected for her and her alone, they became lost in one another as surely as if the rest of the world had disintegrated.
Only their bodies existed. Only this mattered.
Reaching heights she’d never imagined, for the first time in her twenty-two years Dalia let go and let her body have free rein, granting it’s every wish. Its primary wish was to let Brody have his way with her in any way he wanted. He was more than happy to grant that wish.
Half an hour later, in the post-sex euphoria that was as potent as any drug, they sat side by side, naked and fulfilled. Elvis sang I Can’t Help Falling in Love . Dalia didn’t know if she’d fallen in love but she sure as hell had fallen into lust.
“I need to get home,” she announced as she pulled on her tee shirt and shorts. “Mama will worry if I don’t get there at the usual time. She worries about me out on that remote farm road late at night.”
“Dalia, this has been the best night of my life.” Brody struggled to get his jeans on.
“Mine, too. In the realm of sex, that is. The night my daughter was born? That was spectacular, the highlight of my life. And the day Mamie and Butch took me in. That’s a big one, too, because they saved my life.”
His grin popped out of the collar of his tee shirt as he pulled it over his head. “Well, you’ve had a much more exciting life than I have. I hope this ranked in the top ten.”
“Oh yes. Definitely. Maybe even number three.”
“Wow. I’m honored.”
“And number one in sex, for sure. It’s been five years since I’ve had sex. Not since I got pregnant.”
“What? Are you serious? Men must fall all over themselves to date you.”
“Well, yeah, they sort of do. But I’ve never liked one enough for…” she swished her hand around “…this.”
“Now I’m honored. Humbled even. Dalia, when can we see each other again? I mean, I know that because you’re a mom you can’t run around at will. I don’t want to intrude on that. But I’d love for us to have a proper date.”
She’d never been on a “proper date” and found the premise to be charming.
But she wasn’t ready yet to admit to him that she and Rose’s father had never even officially dated.
“I’d like that. How about next Friday night, a week from today?
It seems like forever away, but I think that would be best.” So I have time to analyze what in hell I’m doing here, she thought.
“Great. I’ll pick you up at seven. We’ll go to a movie. How’s that?”
“That’s perfect. Will you hold my hand in the theater?”
“You bet. I might even get brave and put my arm around your shoulder.”
“Oh-oh. That might lead to a kiss.”
“That’s the plan.”
They shared a gentle goodbye kiss, and he went back to his truck.
He followed her on the expressway toward Farmdale, making sure she got there safely.
When she turned onto the country road that would take her to the farm, she expected him to turn the other way to go to his place in town.
But he followed her down the dark road all the way to her driveway like he had before.
She turned in and he pulled in behind her only far enough to back out and turn around.
When he waved and drove away, Dalia felt a sense of despair at his leaving.
She parked next to her mama’s Beetle and turned off the truck, letting the warbling on the radio fade away so she could sit in silence.
She took a moment to take in the place she loved so much.
The sturdy old barn loomed large in the dark, its never-ending presence having always brought her a sense of security, a devoted testament to her beloved poppa’s life work.
The sheep slept in their pasture, having been left out on this warm summer night.
The chickens no doubt nestled in their nests in the henhouse.
Only the barn cat, Barney, wandered around, his eyes shining in the light from the house when he looked her way.
The house was dark except for the front porch light and the front hall light she could see through the window, lights Mama always left on for her.
She would go inside like always, but it would be a different woman going into that house on this night.
This new woman didn’t know her heritage.
The person she’d thought to be her birth mother was dead.
She’d quit her job. She’d have to break her promise to Mama.
She’d had wild sex with someone she hardly knew. And she was falling in love.
As quietly as a ghost, she got out and drifted inside feeling like a stranger in her own skin.