Inside, the host seated them in an out-of-the-way booth where they could talk. A waitress brought water, left menus, and took their drink orders. Anne drank a bit of her water and focused on Di instead of the menu. “You look like a woman going through a terrible break-up.” Anne set her water down when Di looked up. “Funny thing, that. We’ve been friends for more than ten years. You’ve dated guys, broken it off after a week, or sometimes after several weeks of dates, and you’ve never been like this except for, as I’ve stated, after the blind date you had with Van. You’ve got that same look.”
“Please,” Di said and went back to reading the menu.
“You look heartbroken,” Anne persisted.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“And I’m calling bullshit.” The waitress came back, and Anne said, “Not now.”
As the woman walked away, Di said, “That was rude.”
Anne took Di’s menu and did a bob and weave until she caught Di’s gaze. “Tell me I’m wrong.” Di opened her mouth to do just that, but Anne held up a hand and added, “Keep in mind we don’t lie to each other. This is a safe zone. No judgment.”
Di raked her hair back off her face and braced her forearms on the table before she spoke. “Okay. I let him get to me, but not to worry. I’ll get over it. I have to.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you have to get over it?”
“Because he clearly was only interested in the sex part, which I don’t mind saying, was mind-blowing.” She sipped her water. “God, I hate being just one more in a long line of women he left wanting more.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Anne said, leaning in. “So he told you he didn’t want more?”
“No.” Di played with her napkin. “Like I said, he told me it wasn’t casual for him, and he did come back the next day, even though it was quite late when he got back into town.”
“And?”
“We had drinks. We argued. I signed the contract because he insisted I sign it then and there, and he left—said I wouldn’t see him again.”
“What did you argue about?”
“What else? The club,” Di said and slumped back in the booth.
“The changes?”
“No.”
“What then?”
“The fact that it’s his club.” Di sat up, angry now. “The man runs a strip club, Anne,” she said like that explained everything.
“A gentlemen’s club,” Anne corrected. “One that is undergoing a major image overhaul at his request.” Di had no response for that, so Anne continued. “Did you stop to consider he might be doing this because he wants to be a man you can respect? Hell, Di. He even hired you so you could make it into whatever you want. Do you know what kind of risk he’s taking here? What if the clientele doesn’t like the changes? The club could go out of business.”
“Not likely. If it doesn’t work, they’ll just go back to stripping.”
“It’ll work. He’ll see to it.” Anne grabbed her hand and said, “He’ll see to it because he wants you.” She said the last words succinctly to make sure Di heard her.
“You’re nuts,” Di said, but she was replaying her conversation with Van in her mind. He’d wanted her to work at the club so she could find out more about the operation. But why?
“No, you’re blind.” Anne dipped her fingers into her glass and flicked the water at Di.
“Hey!”
“Van is making all these changes for you, and you’re still giving him hell about Vanz being a strip club? Even after he’s agreed to let you change it into something else entirely?”
Di closed her eyes and let out a long breath, afraid to allow herself to hope.
“You know I’m right. Let me hear it,” Anne pressed.
“Maybe.”
“Well, that’s progress,” Anne said and read the menu.
“We’re speculating. Who knows what goes on inside that man’s head?”
Anne motioned the server over and ordered soup and salads for them both. After she’d left, Anne asked, “So what are you going to do?”
“I’m not sure there’s anything I can do,” Di said, feeling miserable and stupid and worse. Who was she to judge anyone? She’d never even tried to get to know Van. She’d branded him “strip club owner” and hadn’t needed any more information. She pulled her phone out of her bag and scrolled through her contacts. She needed to Google Van, read everything she could find about him.
“There she is.”
Di looked up to see Anne smiling at her. “What?”
“I sense a plan forming.”
“I’m going to do some research on Van.”
“Sounds like a good start.”
“There’s still the problem of Van not wanting to see me again.”
“Easily solved. He’ll be there for the launch of the new Vanz.”
Di pointed at her friend. “Right. We have to make it amazing.”
“No worries. The plan is solid. What we do need to work on is the little black dress you’ll be wearing for the debut—something guaranteed to keep his eyes on you all night.”
“Good idea.”
“And we’ll need to work on your dance,” Anne added.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re going to dance the final number,” Anne said as if that was a given. “You will be the show stopper.”
“No. I’m not dancing again.”
“You want to show him you can accept him for who he is? Him and his club?”
“Maybe?” Di said tentatively.
“Start by making yourself part of the show—the show at the club with his name on it.” Anne grabbed her hands. “Think of it. You shut the place down last week. If weeks pass without you making another appearance, people are going to be asking for you. If you appear for the re-launch, it’ll cause a sensation.”
“What if they forget about me?”
Anne smiled and wiggled her eyebrows. “We can see that they don’t.”
“How?”
“Leave it to me.”
“What if Van forgets about me?” Di said, feeling a little miserable at the prospect.
“Impossible.”
“You didn’t see how angry he was last night.”
“I can see it now.” Anne rubbed her hands together, her excitement evident. “You’ll dance the final number dressed as a pin-up girl. We can do you up like Bettie Page. You have the same coloring.”
“Bettie Page? O—Okay.”
“The requests will roll in for private dances. $10,000 a dance, just like last time. Van will buy the dances, and then you’ll show him how you feel in the suite upstairs.”
“There are a lot of variables in this plan. A lot can go wrong.”
“It’ll work. Trust me.”
Di chewed on her thumbnail. “Two weeks is a short amount of time to pull off something of this magnitude.”
“Not for us.” Anne said, and popped a piece of bread into her mouth.
“I’m not sure all the dancers can do it.”
“I agree. Some will need more work before they can appear on stage. We’ll have to talk to the manager about that. You have the burlesque instructors lined up to begin lessons tomorrow morning?”
“Yes.”
“Good. That’ll give us a couple of days to rough out choreography and music. We’ll bring in Margot for costuming at the end of the week.”
“We’re using the music director from Vanz, by the way.” Di chewed her thumbnail. “This is going to cost a fortune. If the show is a flop, it’ll be a huge loss.”
“It will be a smashing success. Now show me some confidence.”
So much was at stake: a new career for the women and a chance at something for her besides work and lonely nights. She could almost imagine a life beyond her dancing career rather than a dark abyss with no vision of what it might be like. Surprisingly, it wasn’t as dismal as she’d thought it would be, especially when she added Van to t
he vision.
“One thing at a time,” Di said. “Mount the best show we can; one that will succeed because of a great plan and flawless execution.”
“It’s what we do,” Anne agreed.
Di nodded. Focus on the show now. Research Van later. What if she found nothing redeeming about him? Could she be with a man who broke every rule to succeed? She asked herself the question even as she acknowledged it was the bad boy in him that drew her. She’d always followed the rules, but breaking rules with Van had been a rush—dancing in the club, having hot sex with him in the suite, and then the night they’d spent together. She smiled to herself. If she was being real, she’d loved finding her inner vixen.
She lifted her glass and Anne did the same. “Here’s to not overthinking it. I’m just going with it. What happens, happens.”
They clinked glasses. “I’ll drink to that,” Anne said. “I just wish we had something stronger.”
Di drank. “We’re going to need all our wits about us to pull this off.”
“Sadly true.”
The waitress brought their meal. They ate quickly, discussing what they needed to do the rest of the day. Di let the excitement carry her through the afternoon, happy for the cooperation and enthusiasm of the club staff and the dancers. When she collapsed on her couch later with her laptop, she almost felt like she was spying when she typed Van’s name into the search engine.
Silly. She sipped her wine and hit ENTER.
11
“Mr. Vanzant?”
“Yes?” Van spoke into the intercom on his office phone.
“A Ms. Diane Jenson is here to see you.”
“She’s here?” Van said, shocked.
“Yes. I told her your schedule is full, but she is quite insistent about seeing you. She said she would wait.”
“Thank you, Kris.” Van disconnected the intercom and checked his watch. He had a meeting across town soon. His driver had already texted him twice. He shoved a stack of files into his briefcase, walked across the room, grabbed his coat, and opened the door to his office. Di stood, looking nervous and uneasy, and better than she had a right to. Even with her hair up and in a bulky coat and scarf, his body reacted the same as it would have if she’d been wearing a transparent negligee. He hadn’t seen her in more than a week as he’d deliberately been staying away from the club. God, he’d missed her.
Dragging his gaze away from Di, he said to his assistant, “I doubt I’ll be back before five, Kris. Can you be sure the Collins report is on my desk before you leave?”
“Of course, Mr. Vanzant.”
He nodded curtly. To Di, he said, “This is a surprise. Is there a problem at the club?”
“No. Um, are you leaving?”
He took her arm and moved towards the elevators. Touching her caused a wave of awareness to wash through him, but he resolved to ignore it. “I have a meeting. What’s this about?” He pressed the call button.
“I need to speak with you.”
The elevator doors swished opened and they both stepped inside. “Talk fast. I’m late.” A couple of people looked their way, but when the elevator began to move, they all went back to staring up at the floor numbers and checking their phones.
Di moved in close—too close. “I’d prefer to have this conversation in private,” she said softly.
God help him. That was the same voice she’d used after he’d made love to her. He tugged at his collar and didn’t look at her. “I have a busy schedule.”
“I know. You haven’t been at the club.”
He did turn to her then. “I remember telling you that you wouldn’t see me again.”
“But you’re always at the club.”
“No. You assume I’m always at the club.”
“And that’s the problem. Actually, it’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“I’m listening.” The elevator stopped on a lower floor. Everyone moved to the side to make room for more people, which meant Van had to squeeze closer to Di. Too close.
“You should have told me.”
Frustrated with her inability to get to the point, he said, “Can you be more specific?”
“You should have told me everything—about your business, that you own this building, that, according to Forbes you’re one of the richest men in America. Why did you let me believe you just owned the club?” Several people glanced their way. When he ground his back teeth together and didn’t respond, she continued. “I tried to get you to do this in private, but you refused.”
The elevator finally opened on the ground floor, and the people inside spilled out into the lobby. Van took Di’s arm and pulled her aside after they’d walked to the front of the building. “Would you have really believed anything I had to say? And besides, what was I supposed to do? Disclose my net worth?”
“I don’t know,” she said frowning.
“What did you do, a Google search on me?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “But doing a Google search only created more questions.”
Fascinating. She’d been researching him. “What kinds of questions?” he checked his watch.
“I don’t understand, Van. I don’t understand any of it. I behaved like an ass to you, and you could have easily cleared everything up. But you said nothing.”
“Since you had it all figured out, what was the point?”
“How was I supposed to know anything other than your connection to the club?”
“You could have asked.”
“Or you could have told me,” she repeated.
Van shoved a hand in his pocket and glanced outside to where his car and driver waited. “Look. I really have to go. If there’s nothing else—”
She looked up at him, and he got all tangled up in the emotions he saw in her eyes. “Just one more thing,” she said. “Why does a successful businessman hold on to a gentlemen’s club when he has no other entertainment businesses in his company’s portfolio? It doesn’t fit. In fact, it sticks out like a white elephant.” She leaned forward and said, “And don’t tell me you don’t own it, because your company’s name is on the deed. And the deed before that had your name on it, not your company’s name. You bought it from your father’s estate.”
“When did you have time to go to the Office of the Register of Deeds?” he asked.
“You can do just about anything online,” she said dismissively. “So, I’ll ask you again, why? Why did you buy the club and then hang onto it all these years?”
“It’s personal for me.”
“Why?” she persisted.
“I have to go.” He turned away from Di and walked quickly to the exit. Di followed. “We’re not having this discussion.” His driver opened the door, and Van got in. So did Di.
His driver leaned in and took Di’s arm before she could sit. “I’m sorry, Mr. Vanzant.”
Di struggled. “Let me go.”
Van grabbed Di’s other arm and said, “It’s all right, Jim. Drive.” His driver shut the door, and Van stared at the woman sitting across from him. “Are you crazy?”
“I want answers.”
“Jesus Christ.” He tossed his coat onto the seat and put his briefcase on the floor. “You are the most infuriating woman.”
“Same goes,” she said, then got back on topic. “I was surprised to find that the club was owned by your father, but the one personal thing you did tell me was that you didn’t have a relationship with your him. So, why would you buy a club he owned and hang onto it for personal reasons?”
Van leaned in. “I’ll repeat, I’m not discussing this with you.”
The car made a sudden stop when the driver was cut off in traffic. Van instinctively reached for Di. When he was thrown back in his seat, he brought Di with him. “Are you okay?” he asked, rattled by the near collision as well as her questions. Sprawled across his lap, she clung to his blazer. When she wiggled to sit upright, he moaned. She gripped his lapels and closed her eyes.
“I missed you, Van.”<
br />
That threw him even more off-balance. “What?”
Agitated, she slapped his chest with the flat of her hand. “Damn you. You—you—”
“What?”
She looked up at him and said, “You got to me. I thought I could just dance at your club, win the stupid bet, and savor the victory. And I would have if you hadn’t interfered. Even if you had only bought the dance in the suite and come on to me, I could have left it at that; blamed the sex on the adrenaline from the performance.” She smacked him again. “But that wasn’t enough for you. You came to my apartment and gave me one the of most amazing nights of my life, and then you preyed on my convictions knowing I couldn’t resist the challenge of converting the club into a respectable establishment.”
His hands tightened on her arms. “Hold on. Back up. I gave you one of the most amazing nights of your life?
She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “And working at the club has me on this 24/7 quest to figure you out, but everything I learn just leads to more questions.”
He kissed her because he had to. Stopping her flow of words was a bonus. Her response was an even greater bonus. She softened against him, kissing him back deeply and ramping up the need boiling inside him. When she broke the contact, they both were breathless. “Don’t think you can distract me with kisses,” she said as if he hadn’t done just that.
He trailed a hand down to her thigh. “Maybe I should try another tact.”
“Van, please.”
“Please what? Please make love to you in the back of my limo?”
“Please talk to me.” She grinned and added, “And do I have to choose?” she said, her sass coming back a bit.
The car stopped. Van hit the intercom. “Give me a minute, Jim.” With both arms back around Di, he asked, “Where are all these questions coming from, Di?”
“I need to know.”
“Why?”
She focused on smoothing his tie as she spoke. “Because in the time I’ve been at the club, I’ve found out things about you—things that have me seeing you in a different light.” She glanced up at him and added, “And I’m not talking about your money.”
“That’s usually the thing women like most about me,” he said flatly. “It does keep things simple.”
Dared: Scandalous Moves Series Page 7
