She blanched at his anger.

“I didn’t lie to you!” she cried.

“Then explain to me how that asshole and his drunk-ass friends know you have a great set of tits?”

Instead of answering him, she looked out the window. His anger soared. He’d been duped by a lying stripper just like his father had. He hadn’t seen that coming. Who was the schmuck now?

“They were in last week,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I was their server.” She turned and looked at him. The streetlights caught the sparkle of her tears. Flynn braced himself, waiting for the next round of lies. “They came in drunk and started throwing money around. The one you punched wanted a lap dance. He got belligerent when I repeatedly refused. He called Andre over and said he wasn’t getting his money’s worth.” Her voice trembled as she recounted the experience. “Andre told me in front of the guy to take my top off and serve him topless. I refused. So the bastard pulled my top off.”

He wanted to punch the motherfucker all over again. “What did you do?”

“Nothing, I simply held out my hand and asked for my top back. He dangled it in front of me and dared me to come and get it. I didn’t bite. I stood quietly with my hand out and asked him again to give me my top. Once he realized I wasn’t going to rise to his baiting, and he had his fill, he returned it.”

“So you gave him what he wanted?”

“Not by choice.”

“You didn’t cover yourself or walk away!”

“No, Flynn, I didn’t! I would have gotten fired and that’s not an option for me right now. But more than that, I wasn’t going to allow him to humiliate me! It’s want he wanted. By standing my ground, I made sure he didn’t have that over me.”

“How much did he pay you for that show?”

She threw her hands up. “It wasn’t a show!” she yelled. Then, very quietly, she slowly said, “He ripped my top off of me, Flynn. Without my permission. He ruined it. It wasn’t reparable.”

“How much?” he gritted out.

“I don’t know!” she screamed. “Even if I did, it’s none of your damn business!”

“Don’t lie to me, damn it!” He slammed his hands down on the steering wheel.

“I’m not lying to you,” she said, sitting back into the seat and crossing her arms over her chest. “I took my cut of my tips at the end of the shift, just like I do every night.”

“How could you take his money?”

“Don’t talk to me about money, Flynn.” She looked away from him and said, “I’m not going to discuss this with you anymore.”

“That’s fine with me.”

As he pulled up in front of the hotel, Flynn came to a screeching stop. The attendant must have sensed the mood inside because he backed off from assisting.

Flynn sat still for a long minute in an attempt to compose himself. He was furious at what had happened. Furious that pieces of shit like those guys had seen Pink. He got that the guy ripped her top off, but she stood there, and let them all look! Then they paid her for the pleasure! And she took the fucking money. He was furious she had to subject herself to that kind of environment each night she went to work. Furious she had conveniently omitted the episode when he had specifically asked about her stripping, and furious with himself for being sucked in by her innocent act.

As Flynn exited the car he shook the attendant off. Coming around, he opened the door for Pink. As they entered the hotel he didn’t touch her. He wanted to, damn it to hell, despite it all he wanted to.

Once in their suite, he stopped in the middle of the living room and watched her walk over to the terrace door and open it. As she stepped out, the cool night air coupled with the sound of the crashing waves took him back to earlier, when they had connected under the sunset.

He walked to the edge of the room and said loudly enough to be heard over the surf, “Is that what I’ll have to contend with every time we go out in public?” He jammed his fingers through his hair and punched the wall. “How many other incidents like that have occurred?  How many men have seen you like those assholes have?”

When she didn’t answer, his frustration mushroomed. He didn’t want to feel this way. Distrustful. Nervous about taking her out in public. And he’d hated that look on her face when that dick insulted her. Damn it, he just wanted to protect her! “I can’t even reintroduce you to my friends because they’ve all seen your tits and half of your ass! How do you think that makes me feel, knowing some of them have probably jerked off thinking about them?”

She turned slowly, and Flynn’s heart dropped to his feet. Her beautiful face had the same haunted look as when that ass called her out. This time Flynn couldn’t blame her hurt on that guy.

“I want to go home,” she said, her voice barely audible above the ocean sounds.

He nodded. “I think that’s a good idea.”

Chapter Fourteen

The ride heading east on the San Mateo Bridge was the polar opposite of the ride west.  Izzy and Flynn had not spoken a word to each other since they’d mutually agreed to go to their respective homes.  There was nothing to say.

Flynn couldn’t accept her past, and Izzy couldn’t change it.  Even if she could, she wouldn’t, because the irony of it was, it had led her to him. These last twenty-four hours had been the most amazing twenty-four hours of her life.  Now it was over.  And it hurt.

Nothing, aside from her mother dying in her arms, had hurt this bad.  Not even losing the sister she loved.

As the night scenery sped past her, Izzy tried to process who she was now.  Because she was not the same woman she was yesterday.  Her promise to herself to find Alex had led her down a dangerous path and into a quagmire of emotion she was ill-equipped to handle.  She’d agreed to make a sex tape for information.  She’d stripped down to her bikini bottoms for a room full of cops, attempted to drug one of them, got caught by him, almost got arrested by him, then subsequently lost her virginity to him.

The external escapades paled compared to what she had experienced internally.  Her heart, that thing she had protected for so long, had cracked open. It ached. Badly. Painfully so. Flynn had filled her with more than his glorious penis; he’d filled her with hope, abandon, happiness, need, and a burning desire to be cherished not for her birthright or her job, but for herself, the stripped down to the raw center Isadora.  He’d peeled away her layers, revealing parts of herself she hadn’t even known about, and then walked away because he didn’t like what he’d discovered.

How was she supposed to recover from this?  How could she not yearn for his strong protective arms around her, his warm body taking her where she knew she would never go again? He made her laugh, he made her swoon, he made feel like the most beautiful woman in the world when he looked at her with those electric blue eyes that melted her to her very core.

Her chest constricted as she fought desperately to silence the sob that threatened to give her away. She wished she were alone so she could cry.

She sniffed.  Cry?  The last time she’d cried was when her mother lay in her arms and took her last breath.  She’d promised herself then that she would never allow anyone to get to her heart the way her father had gotten to her mother’s.  And what did she do?  The same damn thing.  Except she wasn’t going to throw her pride and self-worth out the window and go crawling back to a man who didn’t regard her as his equal.  Her pride was intact.  No way was she going to walk through life broken, the way her mother had.

Her phone chirped in her purse, indicating she’d received a text message.  Had to be a wrong number; no one called her, except the professor and Charlie. Or sometimes Andre to work an extra shift.  Professor Gamble was in the UK, Charlie was in Santa Cruz, and the club was closed on Sundays.