Page 4 of Georgia On My Mind (Southern Promises)

“Are we going in?” she asked, holding his jacket taut around her shoulders.

Hart closed his mouth quickly. “Yes! Shall we?” He offered his bent elbow, which she took, and they headed toward the free-standing building. “We’re so in luck. The ‘hot now’ light is on!”

“What’s the ‘hot now’ light?”

He stopped near the curb. “Are you kidding me? You don’t know about the ‘hot now’ light?”

“Afraid not.”

He scratched his head and grinned. Placing his hand on her shoulder, he turned her around and pointed at the circular neon light in the window. “When the red ‘hot now’ light is on, it means the donuts just came out of the oven. If you’ve never experienced a hot, glazed Krispy Kreme donut fresh out of the oven, you’re in for the biggest treat of your life!”

She laughed out loud. “If you say so!”

Several minutes later, they sat across from each other in a corner booth, holding cups of hot coffee and eyeing a box full of a half-dozen donuts still steaming from the oven. Hart was astonished at how striking Gia was in the fluorescent lighting of the place. Her flawless skin was luminescent and her eyes… god, he could get lost in those eyes. Several patrons did double-takes, noticing her. She looked so different from the average Atlanta woman. If he hadn’t met her already and were a stranger walking in, he would assume she was a celebrity of some kind. She stuck out like a sore thumb still wearing her white dress, fishnets, and heels. She was like an exotic white orchid surrounded by the hardscape of the city.

He lifted two donuts out of the box and handed her one. “On the count of three, I want you to take a big bite and savor it. Roll it all around in your mouth and tell me what you think.”

She nodded, and their eyes locked in on each other. “One, two, three.” As they bit into their donuts at the same time, Hart couldn’t help himself and moaned when the hot glaze hit his tongue. He closed his eyes and chewed slowly, savoring the distinct flavor of his favorite childhood treat. When he opened his eyes, Gia’s reaction thrilled him. She looked like she was suppressing a smile as she chewed, a film of glaze stuck to her upper lip. She nodded eagerly.

“Wow! How did I not know about this?” she said with her mouth full.

“I know. It’s a confectionary wonder. My grandparents used to take my sister and me every Sunday morning before church. The taste reminds me of my youth.” He gazed at her and homed in on the filmy layer of glaze stuck to her lip. Brazenly, he reached across the table and wiped it off with the pad of his thumb. Her chest rose in a deep breath as if surprised by his bold move. She took a paper napkin out of the dispenser and wiped it across her mouth, staining the paper with red lipstick.

“Thanks,” she said quietly, a pinkish hue crossing her pale cheeks.

He stuck his thumb in his mouth and licked off the glaze, eyeing her purposefully. Had he gone too far? “You’re welcome.”

The subtle blush on her pale skin and the demure smile she tried to hide were encouraging as they continued to eat their donuts and sip coffee. Hart leaned back in the booth, propping both arms up on the seat. “So, are you from around here?”

Gia smiled shyly and set her cup down before licking her lips. “I’ve been here for a while.”

“Okay.” He shifted, bringing his arms forward and wrapping them around his cup. “How long have you been performing as Marilyn?” Waiting with bated breath, he produced his best smoldering gaze.

She confidently tipped her chin up, raising a perfect eyebrow. It was a sultry mannerism from his own playbook, one he thoroughly enjoyed being on the receiving end of. “I’ve been performing as Marilyn for almost a year now.”

Hart nodded. “Cool. I guess the money is good, huh?” Curiosity was killing him. He wanted to know why she performed as Marilyn and what motivated her to dance so seductively in a room full of guys. Money had to be the answer.

“The money is decent. It helps supplement the rising costs of everything,” Gia replied, fingering the top of her cup with a vibrant red fingernail. “What about you? What do you do to have such a nice car?”

Touché, he thought. Tit for tat. She was not like any other girl he had ever been with. He was going to have to work hard if he wanted to get to know her.

“I’m a real estate broker. Made good bank in DC for the past five years. I’m back in Atlanta now, looking for a fresh start.”

She eyed him dubiously, and he thought she was about to ask for more details. Instead, she reached into the box and pulled out another donut. “I know all about fresh starts.” Staring directly at him, she deliberately took a big bite, making him chuckle nervously.

Hartford Parker was a playboy able to reel in the ladies without much effort. Now, he was barely treading water, nervous and almost giddy around Gia. Who was this girl?

Chapter Three

All ten channels on Gia’s ancient television were broadcasting nothing but infomercials, the light from the perky images of commentators bouncing off the dark walls of her tiny, makeshift living space at the back end of her dance studio. She had given up her apartment several months ago, the increase in rent too much to handle in addition to the rising lease payments and staff salaries of her small business. After rolling up her sleeves, she cleaned out an oversized storage closet and set up her new home. She added an expensive new lock only she had the key to, hoping her property manager and staff would never find out. The couch barely fit, taking up one whole wall, and there was just enough room for a bookshelf and table. Everything else she owned she stored in boxes stacked up against the wall in the small kitchenette she and her remaining two dance instructors used to take breaks between classes. Dancing had always been her passion, ever since she was a young girl. To be able to parlay her expertise into a business was a lot harder than she ever expected. The years of many classes and auditions were nothing compared to the stress of running her own company. Glancing over her shoulder, she sighed and reminded herself that the bright side of living at her work was dancing anytime, day or night, in the large student space with entire walls of mirrors.

After clicking off the TV, she snuggled into the threadbare sofa she also used as her bed, strategically covered in brightly colored sheets and pillows. She dreaded the long, endless nights at the end of the day, tossing and turning while her mind replayed her financial woes in her wakefulness. At least her mind was wandering to thoughts of Hartford Parker, the tall, dark, and handsome donut-eating gentleman who had somehow convinced her to give him her number. It was nice having something different to think about for a change. Her eyes adjusted to the dark room as she lay back on a pillow and lazily went over the night in her mind.

He had been so sweet, stepping in at just the right moment at the country club before the low-life manager with bad breath groped her inappropriately. When Hart put his suit jacket around her cold, bare shoulders after escorting her to her car, she knew she’d end up giving him her number at some point in the evening—he just had to ask for it, which, of course, he did. In a long line of suitors, he ranked first among those who interested her. Standing in the empty parking lot at the Krispy Kreme with a sugar-high like no other, she recalled Hart boldly leaning in and kissing her on the mouth, his warm lips lingering with a sweetness she hadn’t experienced in a very long time. He wanted to see her again—and as soon as possible. She wanted to see him too, their mutual chemistry dismissing his lofty promise not to make a pass. Their flirtatious evening paved the way for small permissions and innocent gestures. But was she ready to invite a total stranger into her stressful world?

Immediately, her eyes darted to the shadowed pile of bills on the table and her thoughts reverted to her usual angst. It had been two long months since she had taken a paycheck from her failing dance studio. She had agreed to more gigs with the entertainment company to help cover some of her expenses, especially her staff salaries, her second job bringing in the most money. Unfortunately, the owner of the company never paid on time, and it was usually up to her to track him down to get a check. In addition to his entertainment business, the owner of the entertainment company, Franko Bartelli, also owned a thriving strip club off Highway 141 near the perimeter of the city. Every time she saw him, he was always trying to convince her to join his lineup of girls at the club. Tempted on her worst days because she knew the money would be outrageous, deep down she could never fathom stooping to that level. She took pride in her studio, which offered a variety of classes ranging from basic ballet and contemporary dance to jazz and tap. She also taught a couple of adult classes on Wednesday evenings to those daring couples wanting to learn the waltz or swing dance. She knew without-a-doubt that none of her students had a clue regarding her “extra” work as a Madonna or Marilyn impersonator. If any of the suburban moms of her youngest students got wind of what she did on the side, she’d lose her business for sure. Rolling her eyes, she knew she’d have to make an appearance at the strip club where the entertainment company main office was located and beg Franko for a check that was rightfully hers.

Staring up at the white popcorn ceiling barely illuminated in the dark by her alarm clock, Gia sighed and thought about her little piece of heaven. The location of her studio in an ancient strip mall was off the beaten path. Because it was so old and left to her in her late Aunt Caroline’s will, she got a steal on the lease agreement, her payment including utilities much to her excitement. It didn’t take long for her to realize the surrounding area was slowly deteriorating and people were relocating to the more popular areas of town. Most of the retailers near her had gone out of business, and she was one of only six businesses left in the crumbling real estate, doing the best she could to stay afloat.

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