Masquerade Read Free Page A

benefactor, about this bar, about anything. For all she knew,
it could be a front to lure unsuspecting women into any number of lurid things.
    Yet she’d gotten on the train. Some part of her hoped this would be a life-changing
experience. Beth clutched her small suitcase, left with little or no choice. How
would she get back home? She stretched her arm, easing a stiffness already
settling in from her fall. Did she even want to go back home?
    No. The answer came
immediately. Better to take a chance in Chicago than to barely exist in Cape Girardeau .
    Resolutely, Beth pushed
the door open and stepped inside, taking a few seconds for her eyes to adjust
to the darker interior. It was a pleasant surprise to see it was not trashy at
all. Couches sat at juxtapositions, with pillows tossed about. Tall wing-backed
chairs offset the comfort of the couches, all arranged in a sort of organized
disarray. A single spotlight showcased an empty stage
at the front surrounded by half-moon couches and tables reminiscent of old-time
Vegas.
    No patrons were here at the moment , but that wasn’t surprising. It was early yet,
not even dinnertime. A bar filled almost the entire length of one wall and one
lone bartender stood watching her, a bar rag and glass motionless in his hand.
    Beth swallowed the walnut-sized
lump in her throat and crossed to where he stood. As she approached, she
realized he wore a mask. It was simple, black, and covered only the top half of
his face. Even in the dim light, though, she could see the blue of his eyes
enhanced by the black of both his hair and the mask.
    She’d only seen eyes that blue once in her life. The image, a flash of bodies entwined,
of hot kisses and fumbling fingers exploring each other, hit her like a brick. Beth
reeled from the heat of the memory and the pain that always sliced through her
afterward. She latched onto the stool in front of her for support.
    That heat was what she’d
come here to find. Not the pain. Not
the loss. She wanted to feel a desire to be with someone that overrode
everything else. It would erase the pain. It had to. That, more than anything,
was the reason she now stood inside Masquerade .
    The bartender glanced
down at his hands as if surprised to find something in them. He wiped the glass
with measured care, eyes on Beth while she tried to regain her equilibrium. There was something about the man that made her pulse hit supersonic
speed. The lump was back in Beth’s throat as delicious heat filled her
with cravings she hadn’t felt in a long time. His
shoulders rippled against the dark t-shirt as he worked the glass. And his hands...     His long fingers worked the glass like a
caress. A caress she wanted to feel slide over the curves of her body, trail along
the rounded side of her breast, and bathe her nipples in focused attention
until they were tightly pebbled and begging for more.
Gliding across her stomach with the touch of a feather, dipping into—
    “We don’t open until nine.”
The man’s voice croaked and he cleared it.
    The spell broken, Beth
stepped back from the bar on legs that refused to stop wobbling. What had just
happened? She’d almost had a wide-awake sex dream
about a complete stranger. She stared at him. It must be the mask, the mystery. That’s all. It had to be.
    She shook her head and
glanced around. “I’m supposed to meet someone?”
    His lips quirked upward
so briefly Beth thought she’d imagined it. “Who?” His voice was stronger now, deeper, and much sexier as
he asked the simple question. Beth leaned toward him until the bar stopped her, then shook her head to clear it. Get a grip, woman. Stop acting like some lust-filled teenager.
    “Umm, well, actually, I’m
not sure. I have a note?”
    He leaned on the bar, his
gaze traveling down her body, then back up with an
intensity that made her feel sexy even in her disheveled state.
    “You probably want to see
Sally.”
    “Sally?”
    “The
owner.” He picked up a phone and