Baring It All. Sandra Chastain
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You’ll have to do better than that.”
“Sorry, my love, that’s impossible. Didn’t you hear? This is Lord Sin’s last performance.”
“But I have it straight from your own lips.” She was thinking desperately. “Lord Sin promised me that he’d make love to me soon. What’s the matter? Aren’t you up to seducing a real woman? Or do you just talk out of your candle?”
He laughed, his deep voice soft and hoarse. “Oh, I’m up to it, all right. I’ll even admit it, you aroused me, too. It’s been years since a woman has had that effect on me on stage. Why do you think I didn’t strip to my G-string like I usually do?”
That thought almost did her in. “Considering the fact that whatever it was you were wearing was like wearing nothing at all, I hadn’t thought about your G-string one way or the other.”
“But you will, my beauty. You will. And if you really want me…I suppose we might meet again before I disappear forever. I’ve never indulged myself. For once, I just might.”
“When?”
But the voice was gone. And she hadn’t pinned him down for an interview. Her big chance and she’d failed and it was her own fault. Where had her mind been? Drowning in the physical sensation he’d created, that’s where. The scoundrel was everything they’d said he was. But who was he?
Sunny came to her feet. “Get to the front door, Walt. If Lord Sin comes that way, video him, his car—whatever.”
“Where are you going?”
“To his dressing room. Please, we have to hurry!”
“You got it,” Walt said, muttering as he left. “Wish I’d brought my wife. She’ll never believe what I saw.”
But a quick trip to his dressing room confirmed to Sunny that it was empty. Not even his costume remained. Sunny was beginning to wonder if Lord Sin was real.
“MAY I HELP YOU?”
Sunny turned to face the same woman who’d delivered her seat of honor ticket. “I was looking for Lord Sin.”
“I’m sorry, Miss…”
“Clary,” Sunny said. “Sara Frances Clary. But everyone calls me Sunny.”
“…Clary, but he’s already left the building.”
“I don’t understand how I missed him, Miss…?”
“Lamour. Lottie Lamour,” the gray-haired woman answered pleasantly.
“Well, I suppose I’ll just have to—to make an appointment for tomorrow,” Sunny said dejectedly.
“I’m very sorry but that won’t be possible,” Lottie said and turned to walk away.
“Just a minute,” Sunny said, “you don’t understand. This is my first assignment. Lord Sin donated this building to the Arts Council and I’m covering the fund-raiser for WTRU.”
Lottie kept walking, drawing Sunny away from the dressing rooms. “And I’m certain you’ll cover it very well.”
“But surely Lord Sin would want to be given credit for this wonderful evening.”
Lottie stopped and turned back to face her. “Of course, my dear. And you’ll do that, won’t you?”
“I need to talk with him,” Sunny insisted. “Every reporter gives his subject a chance to respond.”
“But Lord Sin isn’t your subject,” the older woman said patiently. “Your story is the theater.”
“No, the theater is only window-dressing,” Sunny said. “My story is the man.”
Lottie’s lips curved into a smile but her eyes were cold. “Good night, Miss Clary.”
Sunny watched her walk away. There was no possibility she was going to reach Sin through Miss Lottie. She’d have to find another way to get to him. Sunny called after her, “Please thank Lord Sin for the seat of honor. Tell him I look forward to meeting him again.”
She’d check with Walt but she already knew that he wouldn’t have seen the mystery man leave the theater. There were probably secret entrances and exits that nobody but the dancer knew about. She swore again under her breath. Then, confirming the presence of her tape recorder in her purse, Sunny hurried across the stage and down the steps. With the recorder directly beside the candle she had to have captured the dancer’s voice.
Dancer. She’d called him a stripper before but he was truly more than that. Showman, entertainer, magician, hypnotist. She’d totally underestimated the extent of his sorcery and the difficulty she’d faced. Even knowing what was said about the man, she’d admit it, she’d let him get to her. Well, she wasn’t giving up her search, but tonight she resigned herself to going after her second choice for an interview, the bad-boy real estate tycoon, Ryan Malone.
RYAN MALONE HAD perfected the quick change from Sin’s bodysuit nudity to tycoon tux. He’d broken every rule he’d ever made by continuing the conversation with the redhead after the curtain fell. But tonight seemed to be a night for change. Instead of leaving the theater as he’d always done, he was standing in the wings watching the reporter thread her way through the tables toward the reception area. Still more unsettled than he’d admit, he decided that Lottie was right. He’d be better off delaying his meeting with the woman he’d imagined he was making love to during his act. He’d told himself that his performance was merely a flirtation meant to show her she wasn’t immune to Lord Sin’s talents. Instead, without even trying, she’d turned the tables on him. That had never happened before.
Even Ryan knew that Lord Sin’s last performance had been his best, for it had become a two-way seduction. That hadn’t been an act. It had turned into a sexual tease that had left him totally shaken. What in hell had happened? And what was he going to do about it? What he wanted to do was find her, take her to his bed and make love to her in ways he’d only suggested. That couldn’t happen. Lord Sin had closed up shop.
But—
Ryan Malone could.
Reeling from the aftermath of that thought, he moved quickly past the guests, toward the front entrance. He didn’t know how he’d manage it, but tonight he was Ryan Malone the official representative of the Arts Council; he could do whatever he wanted later. He thought he’d avoided her when he felt someone touch his shoulder.
“Mr. Malone? I’m Sunny Clary, WTRU News. Will you give me a moment, please?”
Ryan turned. She was even more beautiful up close. Ripe, tangerine lips parted as she drew in a quick breath of air. She held out the mike with one hand and used the other to shove a tendril of red hair behind her ear. For a moment he allowed himself simply to look at her. Knowing that the camera was running, Ryan forced himself to focus on the future of the theater. Any seduction of Sunny Clary would have to wait until he was in better control. He smiled and said, “Of course. What may I tell you?”
Tell me? Tell me to remember this is business. To forget I’ve just been practically seduced by Lord Sin and that Ryan Malone is practically undressing me with his eyes. “Mr. Malone,” Sunny began, trying to control the jitter in her voice, “you are not only a member of the Arts Council but you’re also responsible for the events of the evening, the fund-raiser here tonight. Can you tell us how successful you were?”
“I understand that we did very well, but I only put the program together, Miss Clary. You’ll have to give the credit for the idea to the man who donated the building for a Community Theater.”
Stage fright was new to Sunny. She’d done plenty of interviews, but she’d usually been wearing slacks and she hadn’t been twelve inches away from the ultimate Valentine heartthrob. “Of course.” She smiled. “You’re referring to the entertainer known as Lord Sin. A friend of yours, I believe?”
“We