One of his other senses had alerted him to the piano at first, but now that he could see, he moved toward it, running his hand over the polished wood. He recognized the make. It wasn’t a cheap piece, and it looked well cared for—loved.
“Do you play?”
Her soft voice startled him; the shiver her closeness elicited surprised him even more and he was glad that it hadn’t all been an illusion brought on by smoke and mirrors and half-naked women.
“Some.” He really didn’t want her to know what an all-consuming force music was in his life. He had yet to find a woman who understood it, or anyone who did, really. “Is it yours?”
He watched the dreamy expression float across her face as her hands lovingly caressed the piece. “Yeah.” She touched a few of the keys before she flipped that switch in her brain he’d noticed before and suddenly the woman before him was composed and closed.
“Did you want something? Coffee? Lemonade? I don’t keep alcohol in the house. Sorry.”
He looked at her again as if for the first time. Gone was the practiced seductress from the other night. No wings, no wigs, she stood before him barefoot and natural, completely different from what he’d expected. Her hair was so long and so damn innocent he felt abashed for finding it sexy as hell and having to force images from his mind of her atop him, that hair brushing his thighs as she took him in her mouth.
Here in this country cottage she seemed delicate, childlike. Not anything like the fiery phoenix he’d met at the club. Which brought up a very good point. He took a few steps forward and took one of her hands in his, noticing again how feminine and dainty her hand looked against the backdrop of his own.
“What’s your name, angel?”
She laughed. A short sound almost like a giggle but not quite, then she smiled at him and he saw the woman from the club, the one who’d seen through him and didn’t let him get away with a damn thing.
“You somehow got my address, but not my name?”
Raising one shoulder, he twisted his lips into a frown, “Wanted to hear it from you, I guess.”
“I suppose I could ask the same of you, come to think of it. This isn’t a very traditional relationship, is it?”
Drago felt his heart skip as the word relationship rolled from her lips. He tugged her closer, pushing his fingers into her hair, like silk as he knew it would be.
“Is that what this is, angel? A relationship?”
She blinked and he felt her breath stutter across his neck.
“I…”
“It’s what I want. More than anything.”
She bit the corner of her lip, lowering her eyes. One hand came up and touched his lapel. “Aren’t you hot in this?”
Needing more time to assimilate the new information about his Phoenix, he released her. Removing his jacket, he took her offer for lemonade, not remembering the last time he’d had the stuff, but figured it had to be when he was a kid. While she was in the kitchen, he checked out her artwork. Reproductions of Monet and Mary Cassat, a few pictures he figured must be Lacey as a baby, a picture of the mongrel he’d seen outside wearing rabbit ears. Then he noticed the walls themselves, painted in a fade from deepest blue by the floor, the colors changed at indiscriminate intervals until the color became lavender at the ceiling.
“Did you paint this?”
She set a tray on the kitsch coffee table, pouring the lemon flavored concoction into two glasses over ice, adding lemon slices and sprigs of mint before handing him one of the glasses.
“Yeah. I like hobbies.” She let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “A lot. I’m afraid I don’t stick with one long, though. I have a whole closet full of paints, yarn, scrapbook remnants, clay, rubber stamps, calligraphy…” she smiled, knocking the breath from his chest. “Need I go on?”
She took a seat on one end of the sofa, sitting sideways on it, one leg tucked beneath her. She rested her arm along the back and laid her head on it, the other hand holding her glass in her lap. Despite the very modern and sexy sundress, she looked the epitome of a Laura Ingalls Wilder portrait. Drago once again felt that rush of not being worthy. His feet tried to move him towards the door. Only the soft look in her eyes kept him standing where he was.
“You are not what I thought you were.”
Her smiled widened. “And what did you think I was?”
Drago tried to choose his words carefully, not wanting them to come out wrong but not having much faith in himself to say what he was actually feeling. I was thinking you were my Phoenix. What he actually spoke aloud was, “I thought you more… tie-less.”
She blinked and smiled. “Are you planning to sit down?”
Drago realized he was indeed still standing, jacket over his arm, still caught in his battle between running and surrendering. Looking into her not-quite-blue, not-quite-lavender eyes, he knew there was no way he was leaving. He laid his jacket near the floppy dog and sat on the other end of the sofa, feeling very much like a teenager on a first date.
Staring at the little sprig of mint bobbing in yellow liquid he gave a mirthless laugh, confessing thoughts probably better kept to himself, but they spilled from his lips all the same. “You make me nervous. That’s unusual for me.”
From the corner of his eye he caught the lop-sided smile she gave him and the knowing look in her eye. The one that said she knew she had power over him and was trying to decide how to best use it.
“Okay, so explain tie-less.”
Drago smirked, feeling some of the tension leave him, he turned on the sofa, mimicking her position. “More free, I guess. Maybe I expected one room somewhere, lots of vibrant color and probably a lot of clothing on the floor. What I hadn’t expected, was a real home that felt warm and inviting, child and dog in the yard.”
“I told you Lacey’s not mine.”
“But she means something to you or you wouldn’t have her baby pictures on your wall.”
“Maybe this isn’t my home. Maybe I’m just staying here between places. Maybe this is Lacey’s home. You make a lot of assumptions, don’t you?” She rested her temple against two raised fingers as she scrutinized him. “Are you usually right?”
“Yes.”
She laughed, this time full out. The sound made Drago’s heart squeeze. She leaned forward resting her glass back on the tray then scooted closer to him. His nose instantly picked up the scent of mangos and he found himself desperate to bury his face in her hair, against her neck. Hold her so tight she’d never be able to leave him.
“Well, I don’t think you’ve been right about me once since we met. Maybe you’d like a chance to rectify that. If for nothing else, then for the sake of your unblemished assumption record.”
Nerves beginning to subside, he found himself reaching for her hand, entwining their fingers, running his thumb over her knuckles. He considered her proposition.
“What would this chance entail?”
“Make some new assumptions, based on the information you have now. I’ll even give you a little help. This is my home and everything around here is mine.”
“Do I get to ask any questions?”
“Three.”
Drago smiled. It didn’t matter if she was the Phoenix or Laura Ingalls, he liked her either way. Moreover, he wanted her just as much, as attested to by his constant hard-on. “Your name. Full name.”
“Sarah Rose Bennet.”
Sarah Rose. Beautiful, but he understood her need for a stage name. Sarah Rose fell way more on the Laura Ingalls side. If Sarah Rose had come out on that stage, he’d bet more than a few men would have felt the need to cover her up and shield her innocence. He narrowed his eyes, watching her face as he considered his next question. Age wasn’t important, nor was why she was stripping. He needed something that hit closer to home.
“Who’s Lacey?”
Her eyes sparked with mischief, but her smile was innocently beautiful. “The daughter of a friend. They live here. Isabelle’d been stripping for a few years already
when I met her. She had Lacey when she was nineteen with some rich guy who’d seen her strip and plied her with gifts. He doesn’t claim Lacey as his, so when she started kindergarten last fall, Isabelle decided she needed a day job.”
There was a pregnant pause, but Drago got the very real vibe this story wasn’t over. She pressed her lips together, catching them between her teeth. He could tell she was trying to decide whether to trust him or not, prayed she would and wished there was something he could do to push her decision in his favor.
“She works for an escort service now.”
He raised one brow, but showed no more expression and kept his tone level when he asked, “Prostitution?”
Sarah nodded.
“And you don’t approve?”
“Is that your third question?”
“No, but I’ll come back to it anyway, so you might as well answer it.”
She smiled, though not as brightly and snuggled further into the sofa while drawing a breath. “It’s not my place to approve or not. I worry. She came home beaten once and the experience had her drawing up papers leaving me Lacey if anything happened to her. I just…”
“Worry.” He reached across and touched her cheek with two fingers. From his two questions he’d discovered his Phoenix was a contradiction he’d probably spend a lifetime figuring out. That she was loyal and compassionate, and that she felt things deeply. One last question and he knew exactly what it would be.
“Okay, third question. Why the Phoenix?”
She narrowed her eyes while smiling at him. Studying him for a long while before surprising the hell out of him by climbing into his lap, straddling him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her hair falling over one shoulder to rest against him as flashes of the lap dance she’d given him came back. He smelled mint on her breath and mangos in her hair, felt the heat of her permeating his entire body. He pressed his palm into her back, touching bare skin, and though she’d been near naked the last time she’d sat on his lap, this time was far more sensual. “What have you assumed so far, from what you’ve already asked?”
He brought his mouth so close to hers that he knew she thought he was going to kiss her. Her pupils dilated and her mouth opened on a soft rush of breath, but he held his position, so close as to torture them both. “You’re softer than I’d originally assumed. Your boss told me you were a conundrum. I fear he was right. While you radiate fire and passion, you live in innocence and soul-deep comfort with stuffed animals on your furniture and yarn in your closets.”
She smiled despite what she wanted. For whatever reason, she could not hide herself from this man and she wasn’t entirely sure she liked that.
“You’ve made a beautiful home for yourself and friends, have given of yourself to the point of agreeing to raise a child that isn’t yours should the need arise, and you love music in a deep, abiding way that I would bet you don’t entirely understand.”
His soft breath brushed across her lips as he spoke. He was driving her crazy with desire to the point she could barely pay any attention to what he was actually saying. He brushed her cheek with his thumb, drawing her focus back to his face.
“You’re like that burning bush in the bible, only beneath the flame is a rose bush in full bloom. If a person can get past the flames, there’s a rare treasure awaiting them. Something so beautiful and so unique that God knew no mere mortal could stand to see it, so he set you afire. A fire so full of passion and raw sex that, for most men, is enough. All they can handle. All they want.”
“But not enough for you.” Her voice was so soft and breathy he almost didn’t hear her.
“Not by a damn sight, angel. I want everything.”
Suddenly he claimed her mouth. He brushed his tongue over her lips and slid inside. His hand against her back pressed harder, forcing her body to align tightly with his. He knew there would be no turning back from the conundrum that was Sarah Rose Bennet—no matter what it cost him.
* * * *
Sarah was blindsided by that kiss. She’d climbed in his lap to distract him and it had backfired, melting her own brain as well. She’d never met anyone like this man before. He spoke of passion and fire as if he understood them. He said that her fire was enough for most men, but in reality she’d found few that it hadn’t scared.
She still cringed, remembering her first boyfriend and how he used to push her away, saying she was going too fast for him. She remembered Sidney when she was seventeen, was accusing her of being hornier than a fifteen year-old boy. She remembered Tony telling her he could help her work out some of that sexual frustration she displayed twice a night on his stage, that she was an animal and only a guy like him could handle her.
But this man spoke of more than sex. He seemed to see past her façade, directly into her soul. She remembered thinking that the first moment she’d seen him, and unlike Tony, when he spoke of her passion, he didn’t make her feel dirty or ashamed of it.
Still, she’d spent a lot of years making herself be okay without a guy, okay on her own. Shoring up defenses, believing she’d never let anyone in again.
She didn’t need a man, but there were times when she definitely wanted one, times when she felt so lonely she cried over it. There were no guarantees in life, though, and she feared letting this particular man in, because she’d never felt anything close to this with anyone else and each one of the others had torn pieces of her soul away over the course of their relationships. How would she ever survive him?
She pushed some of the fog away, pulled her lips from his just long enough to listen for Lacey. She was still talking to her dolls outside, waiting for her mom. She brought her mouth back for more torture. One thing was for sure, the man knew how to kiss. Although she wasn’t sure if it were his technique or his own raw passion. Either way, she felt kissed to within an inch of her life.
She felt his erection pressing up against her, and for all of this to be happening in her own home on her sofa with her stuffed dog that she’d had since she was eight looking on, well, it was more than a little surreal. Men in her life rarely kissed her like this. In fact, she couldn’t remember one that had, and if Lacey weren’t outside on the patio she’d probably be half-naked by now and scaring the poor man off.
That thought was better than a bucket of cold water and she pulled away. Standing off his lap, breathless in front of him on the floor, her fingers gently wiping moisture from her lips, she motioned over her shoulder. “I have to be listening for Lacey.”
“Right.” His eyes were glazed, his breath ragged as her own and the undeniable proof of how turned on he’d gotten was very evident in his pants. “How ‘bout you answer my last question, then? Although I must say I like your distraction tactics.”
Sarah gasped. “No one’s ever called me on that before.”
She watched something very close to anger flash in his eyes and it made her take a step back. He came off the sofa and pulled her body back against his.
“I’ve never been possessive or jealous over a woman in my life. You make me homicidal. I can’t stand to think of you in the arms of other men and I know it’s completely stone-age of me, but there it is, out there. Toss me away if you want, but that’s how I feel.”
Sarah considered his words very carefully. There’d been a torrent of innuendo in them. On the one hand, he said he wasn’t a jealous man, but on the other he told her to toss him aside for it as if others had. She had to remember she didn’t know anything about him, not really, yet her heart told her to trust him. At the same time, truth was, he could very well be some crazy stalker type and that was the last thing she needed.
“How about I reserve the tossing rights for later?”
She touched his cheek, pressing her palm flat against it. Though her head was screaming caution, her heart was screaming mine and she so wanted her heart to be right this one time, but it had a bad track record and she wasn’t ready to trust it just yet. Ordinarily, she wouldn’t let it cross the street by itself, let alo
ne decide anything potentially life-threatening on its own. “I don’t know anything about you.”
His eyes closed and he leaned into her touch ever so gently. When his eyes opened again she saw a wealth of pain and fear filling them. She ached.
“Who hurt you?” She could—just barely—have stopped herself from asking the question if her life had depended on it, but she never could have predicted his answer.
“Everyone.”
Chapter 6
Drago could have shot himself for being so vulnerable. He had no idea what Sarah would have said to his stupid-ass admission, but thankfully she wasn’t given the opportunity, as a young blonde came through the door a moment later, looking upset and holding Lacey in her arms.
“Sorry, Lacey said someone was here for me?”
“No sweetheart, a misunderstanding.” Sarah touched the other woman, who Drago presumed to be Isabelle. “He’s here to see me and thought Lacey was my daughter.”
Isabelle visibly exhaled.
“Oh, well that makes more sense, I guess.” She kissed her daughter, gave her a squeeze and placed her on the floor. “I need to shower. Can you watch her a little longer?”
“Of course. Dinner’s on.”
She looked up at Drago, wide blue eyes holding a wealth of curiosity. In response, he extended his hand.
“Drago. I met Lacey this afternoon. She’s very precocious.” He sounded stiff, but he knew hell about kids and their parents and didn’t want to offend the woman. Something he said must have struck the right chord, because her eyes lit up. She smiled and clapped her hands .
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