Page 17 of Dust to Dust

Inwardly I groaned at the mention of the private dance. It was the bane of my existence and what I feared would screw up my chances. Forcing a smile to my face, I replied, “Sounds good.”

“Great. You can step into the bathroom over there to get ready. Then when you come out, we’ll start.”

Unable to speak, I merely nodded. On shaky legs, I made my way over to the bathroom. I didn’t know why the marble tile floors and counters surprised me.

After stripping out of my dress, I didn’t bother glancing at my reflection. Instead, I just turned out the light and left the bathroom.

It was do or die time.

Chapter Four: Quinn

As I entered the private room, I inwardly groaned. Callum hadn’t been giving me shite about Taylor Swift. Lover jolted through my brain as a petite blonde twirled on the pole. “Fucking coeds,” I muttered under my breath as I made my way over to Paula, our chameleon who handled PR as well auditions and wrangling of the dancers.

Even though I’d known her for two years, she remained visibly uncomfortable in my presence. Although she fought it, I always saw the change in her pulse and breathing when we were alone.

But today she appeared more at ease. Her smile seemed almost genuine. Jerking her chin to the stage, she said, “If she survives the lap dance, she’s going to be a star.”

With a grunt, I replied, “What makes her so special?”

“Besides being fucking aerobatic on the pole? She’s got everything to drive the men wild. A real wide-eyed innocence coupled with off-the-charts sex appeal.”

After three years, I couldn’t help being a little skeptical. “We’ll see.”

“Isla?” Paula questioned.

The girl quickly dismounted the pole. The moment I saw her face a jolt thundered through me. Of all the hundreds and hundreds of women I’d encountered in my twenty-nine years, she was the most beautiful one I’d ever seen. So beautiful, she stole my breath.

With her blonde hair and blue eyes, she had an ethereal quality to her. She could’ve been the Irish goddess and fairy queen Cliodna–the most beautiful woman in the world according to our folklore.

For the first time since the accident, I found myself truly desiring a woman not just in the bedroom. In the past two years, I’d taken numerous women to my bed. Some became regulars and some were non-repeaters. I’d never wanted to pursue anything with them other than sex. They were a means to scratch an itch I had.

But Isla was different.

It wasn’t about her beauty. She appeared approachable. Not to mention she was the epitome of a girl you took home to your mother, which was ironic considering she was about to take her clothes off for me. Her tiny stature brought out the protector in me.

As her wide-eyed gaze trailed from my chest up to my face, her throat bobbed. My skin shrunk over my bones at her appraisal. I waited for the obligatory flash of terror or disgust to fill her eyes that I’d seen so many times over the last two years. The forced smile. The feigned appreciation to be in my presence.

To my surprise, she blurted, “You’re a long drink of water, aren’t you?”

While Paula turned a laugh into a cough,I furrowed my brows at Isla. “Excuse me?”

“You’re so big.” The minute the words left her mouth a red flush entered her cheeks. “I mean, you’re really tall.”

“Aye, I am.”

A giggle escaped her perfect red lips. “Of course anyone who stands next to me is tall. I’m so vertically challenged.”

Furrowing my brows, I flicked my gaze to Paula. Amusement danced in her green eyes. “Isla, this is Quinn Kavanaugh.”

She thrust out of her hand. Surprise flooded her face when I didn’t offer her mine. A shaky smile curved on her face. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Kavanaugh.”

When I nodded at her, Paula said, “Isla is in graduate school at MIT. She also grew up in Southborough.”

“Fascinating,” I grumbled. Ignoring Isla’s surprised gasp, I motioned to the leather couch. “Let’s get on with it.”

Paula patted Isla on the shoulder. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Isla murmured.

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