The Sextet - Entanglements [The Sextet Anthology, Volume 4] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic) (11 page)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

A native of Louisville, Kentucky, Cheryl Brooks is a critical care nurse by night and a romance writer by day. Utilizing her rich fantasy life and a knack for unobtrusive boy watching, she is currently branching out from paranormal romance into erotic novellas, both contemporary and paranormal, with her Sextet sisters for Siren, and loving it! A lifelong lover of horses and animals in general, she lives with her husband, two sons, two horses, four cats, and two dogs in rural Indiana. She enjoys cooking, gardening, and has played guitar since the age of ten. A member of the RWA and INRWA,
A Delicate Procedure
is her fourth contribution to the Sextet Anthologies series.

Cheryl loves to hear from readers!

Website: cherylbrooksonline.com

E-mail: [email protected]

Also by The Sextet

Siren Ménage Everlasting: The Sextet Anthology, Volume 1:
Sharing

Siren Ménage Everlasting: The Sextet Anthology, Volume 2:

Dirty Dancing

Siren Ménage Everlasting: The Sextet Anthology, Volume 3:

Occupational Hazards

Available at

BOOKSTRAND.COM

BELIEVE IT OR KNOT

Bethany Michaels

DEDICATION

To my Sextet sisters—thanks for inviting me to the party!

Chapter 1

By the time Hannah Dunn was eight years old, she had developed an affinity for fishnet stockings, anything encrusted with rhinestones, and the total attention of anyone who would watch her sing, dance, act, or do gymnastics. Her mother, a secretary at the Regandale Nevada Stake, had been horrified and predicted that Hannah would end up dropping out of school and becoming a prostitute or working in one of those trashy strip clubs out on Route 15.

Her mom had been wrong, Hannah thought with some satisfaction, as a razor-sharp knife whistled by her left ear with only centimeters to spare. Hannah had gotten a job at one of the classy strip clubs in town right after graduating high school and had never worked as anything but a waitress.

Another pair of knives thwacked into the brightly painted backdrop very close to where Hannah’s wrists were bound with ropes over her head. A thousand spectators gasped in unison. And just look where she was now. Even her mom couldn’t deny the fact that Hannah had taken a big step up in the world when she landed her current gig. Stripping would have paid more, but performing with world-renowned illusionist Marcus Lorenzo was much more exciting, and she got to work in a brand-new, state-of-the-art auditorium at the Bombastic Casino, built especially for Marcus’s act, instead of a smoky, smelly club in which danger lurked around every barstool.

Two more knifes sliced through the air, embedding themselves on either side of Hannah’s sequined waist. One of them caught the seam of her costume, and Hannah sighed to herself, thinking of the time it would require to have the costume repaired. Marcus had been showing off all night, adding little touches to the act, which usually meant he was having woman trouble. The crowd loved it. Delighted gasps and a burst of applause punctuated the expertly crafted web of tension Marcus had woven throughout the whole 83 minutes leading up to the grand finale.

Unlike Marcus, most magicians on The Strip didn’t actually fling knives at their assistants. They only appeared to be throwing knives, while the whole time a stage hand used a simple slingshot-type setup to pop the knives through the backdrop hilt first. If the timing was perfect, the illusion was almost indiscernible to the audience. But almost wasn’t good enough for Marcus. These knives were real, and Marcus was really throwing them.

By the time all the knives had been thrown, Hannah’s scantily clad rhinestone silhouette was ringed by razor-sharp daggers. Marcus reared back for the final throw, and four blades simultaneously sliced through the four ropes binding Hannah to the backdrop. The whole auditorium exploded in applause, and Marcus’s theme music pounded out of the surround-sound speakers. The stage hands switched on the fog machines and the whole stage filled with brightly colored puffs of smoke.

Marcus met Hannah at center stage, and grasping her hand, he winked at her as they took their bows to their usual standing ovation. A delicious chill ran over her skin despite the bright stage lights. It wasn’t the thrill of performing in front of a packed house or the thrill of coming inches from a grisly stabbing death. It wasn’t even the rhinestones and fishnets that had her giddy. It was the thrill of being close to Marcus, holding his hand and letting herself be totally seduced by his charm, good looks, and talent the same as his audiences were night after night.

Lush, red velvet curtains swooshed closed as the announcer thanked the audience for coming out and the stage crew rushed to start breaking down the set. The applause gradually died down, replaced by the low murmur of voices and the shuffle of feet as the sellout audience made its way out the auditorium doors and back to the neon lure of sin, sex, and slots.

Marcus dropped Hannah’s hand and sketched a mock bow. “You were divine tonight, as always.”

“Yeah? Well you’re paying for the repairs to this costume,” Hannah said. “It’s my favorite.” Hannah twisted to better see the small tear in the fabric.

Marcus eyed the low-cut bodice of her rhinestone leotard and the significant amount of cleavage that mounded over the top. “Mine, too.”

“Funny.” Marcus had never made any inappropriate moves, despite his incessant teasing. “I don’t think your girlfriend would enjoy hearing you say that.”

Marcus wiped a trickle of sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. “She wouldn’t care. She dumped me.”

Hannah couldn’t help the small tremor of hope that welled up inside of her. She quickly quashed it and tried to look sorry. Despite Hannah’s best efforts to drop subtle and not-so-subtle hints, Marcus had never once touched her except as part of the act. They had become friends and confidants to a degree, but there was an invisible line between them that Hannah dared not cross, no matter how much she might fantasize about throwing caution to the wind and showing up at his penthouse suite in nothing but a smile. But Marcus, and her friendship with him, had become too important to risk for one night of torrid sex. No matter how good it might be. Besides, there was always another woman in the picture.

“I thought she was in Maui doing the swimsuit calendar.”

“She is. She texted me right before the show.”

“She broke up with you in a text?”

Marcus nodded and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “See?”

Hannah leaned in to read the short message:

Not wrkng 4 me. Sorry babie.

“She misspelled ‘baby,’” Hannah pointed out, though she supposed Marcus had not dated the leggy blonde supermodel for her spelling-bee potential. “Or was that supposed to be ‘babe’?”

“No idea. She could spell ‘Carolina Herrera’ and ‘Tagliapietra’ well enough. I have the credit-card statements to prove it.”

“She came to your show with a backstage pass and wasn’t wearing panties. What did you expect she wanted from you? Besides your magic wand.”

Marcus didn’t seem to be too torn up but didn’t look happy either. He was in rut with the same old shallow, short-term relationships with women who respected him for nothing more than his checkbook and his VIP status. He needed a woman who knew what his shirt size was and what he liked on his double-deluxe bacon cheeseburger. A woman who knew he often worked until sunrise perfecting a new illusion and how much taking care of his staff and pleasing his audiences meant to him.

“Look, I’m sorry MeLindah broke up with you—”

“Mella’nee. MeLindah was the other blonde.”

“Whatever. My point is, you’re hooking up with the wrong women.” Hannah felt Dr. Phil-smug and crossed her arms over her chest to make a point.

“Really?” Marcus looked at her with that arresting stare of his.

Magnificent robin’s-egg blue irises ringed in indigo shone bright and seductive beneath black lashes. His round, underwear-model ass, dark hair, and full mouth only added to the image that had made Hannah a Gold Club Member of her favorite online adult-toy store.

“And exactly what kind of women should I be hooking up with?”

Hannah’s mouth went dry, and her Dr. Phil moment was over, the sassy comeback frozen on her tongue. She knew he wasn’t interested in her like that. As a friend, maybe, but she wasn’t his type as far as girlfriends went. But the way he looked at her sometimes was so intimate it gave the illusion that maybe there was something else there, just beneath the surface, if only Marcus or she was brave enough to reach for it.

“I…”

“Hey, boss. You want this stuff back in the cage since tomorrow’s your off day?”

Marcus tore his gaze from Hannah’s to look at the beefy crewman. Perspiration stains ringed the black cotton T-shirt around his armpits and a made wet line down the front.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?”

Coming from any other guy, Hannah would assume the question was meant to be an invitation to go out on a date. But not from Marcus. Marcus was work, work, work twenty-four-seven, which was the other reason his supermodels didn’t stick around very long. He didn’t take them to fancy clubs or on island getaways or really spend much time with them at all. Unless you counted the time they spent in the penthouse suite at the Bombastic. Hannah tried not to think about that.

“I’ll be here, practicing with you. Where else would I be on a Friday night as a single girl in a town filled with rich, single high rollers and the sexiest Elvis impersonators on the planet?”

“Great,” Marcus picked up a spare throwing knife and tossed it casually from one hand to the other. “It’s a date.”

* * * *

Marcus watched Hannah walk toward her dressing room. He couldn’t help himself. She had a little wiggle to her walk that was impossible to ignore, which was why he’d hired her from a lineup of twenty beauties who had applied for the job as his assistant three years ago. Hannah was gorgeous, with her silky blonde hair and wide green eyes tilted up at the corners, but there was something else about her that drew him in. It was her playful spirit, her spunk. As he got to know her better, it was her kindness, her dedication, and her intelligence, though she would deny that she was smart at all if he ever said anything about it. She was quick and could think on her feet, which is what made her the perfect assistant to his magic act.

She’d started out just helping him on one or two tricks, but Marcus liked working with her. They’d gelled almost immediately, and she had been able to instinctively anticipate his next move so that the act always went the way he planned. He’d started using Hannah in other components of his act, and after a year with her, he eventually began to design illusions that would require her assistance just so they would have more practice hours together. He loved his job and the career he’d built, but he loved it even more with Hannah by his side.

The kicker was he knew she was attracted to him, too. So why hadn’t he acted on the natural attraction that was like a living, breathing thing between them and taken her to bed? He asked himself that question almost daily and always came to the same conclusion. He liked her too much to ruin their relationship with sex. Once he had sex with a woman, it was over. Oh, it was great for a short time afterward…as long as they were in bed. But as soon as he zipped up his pants, there was tension. Expectations. Requirements. And eventually, hurt feelings. Marcus just wasn’t a relationship kind of guy, and he didn’t want to drag Hannah into something that would eventually drive her away.

No, he’d deal with a bad case of blue balls rather than risk that. She had become too important to him personally and professionally, so they would be forever locked in the state of wanting but not getting. All the other women he dated were only there as second-rate stand-ins. It made Hannah seem less available if he was with another woman, like an additional layer of insulation between him and Hannah. Mella’nee and MeLindah and all the rest used him for his money and his name. He knew that and figured it was fair since he was using them as a buffer against starting something with Hannah he had no way of finishing.

Gleaming handles of the throwing daggers in the shape of Hannah’s form drew Marcus to the backdrop. A single gold sequin from her costume sparkled from the floor, and Marcus bent to pick it up. He examined it for a moment, smiled, and put it in his pocket before pulling all the daggers free.

Hannah never lost her cool. Even with knives flying at her head, she kept calm. She had the most amazing ability to just be. Marcus would never experience that kind of peace. His mind worked at a frantic pace day and night. Hannah was a cool breath of fresh sweet air that calmed his nerves and his mind, even as she made other parts of him eager for attention.

Marcus walked to the far side of the stage and pitched the first knife at the tiny, dime-sized red dot that was right beside where Hannah’s left hand had been tethered. It hit dead center with a satisfying thwack. He pitched the next knife and the next until all the red dots held the knives’ quivering hilts. He repeated the exercise again and again at farther distances until his vision blurred and his muscles ached with exhaustion. He’d been throwing knives since he was a skinny teen from a broken home. It was a strange hobby, perhaps, but it had always helped him relax. Maybe he’d even be able to sleep for a few hours without thinking about the one woman he could never have.

Marcus turned off the lights and prepared to head upstairs to his suite. Just as he did every night, Marcus checked all the access doors to the auditorium, made sure the alarm was engaged, and secured the cage where they stored all the props. The casino had top-notch security, but magicians guarded their secrets carefully, and Marcus always locked up the cage himself to be sure that no one else could nose around and possibly discover some of his trade secrets. Secrets were everything in his line of work, and one slipup in that department could spell the end of a career. And that he could never allow.