Page 15 of Georgia On My Mind (Southern Promises)

Chapter Nine

Hart waited until Gia pulled out of the parking lot and watched the taillights of her car fade into the black night as she drove off in the opposite direction he was going. It amazed him that he was able to muster the willpower to restrain himself from making love to her that night, his enduring boner an indication of what he was up against. She was captivating and good god, so sweet and delicious. He brought his fingertips up to his nose and inhaled the lingering scent of her secret garden. It would have been easy to have pulled down his pants and impaled her sweetness from behind, watching their reflections come undone together. But what he told her was true. He wasn’t that guy—not anymore. He made up his mind to only please her and was entranced at how her body responded to his touch. The anticipation of lying with her would gnaw at him, for sure. But he was determined to be the gentleman he claimed he was. She deserved to be pursued and courted, not man-handled and ogled like the men at her entertainment job.

When he pulled into the parking space in front of his sister’s condo, he couldn’t help but grab his phone and text her.

Thank you for the fantastic night—and for listening and not judging me too harshly.

He waited a few seconds before her response lit up his face in the interior of his car.

I’m the one who should be thanking you!

He chuckled at the blushing emoji face she included.

Sweet dreams, sweet thing. I’ll call you tomorrow.

He smiled when she texted back.

I can’t wait.

*

Gia lay in the dark on the couch in her storage room, the afterglow of the evening with Hart making her smile. Just thinking about his hands and mouth all over her body under the disco ball in the studio caused her heart to flutter with want. It was astonishing he could hold back from his own needs, wanting only to please her. If he was trying to prove his gentleman status, he succeeded.

When they left the studio, she drove around the block, checking her rearview mirror to make sure he wasn’t following. When the coast was clear, she returned and parked in front of her studio and scurried inside, dead-bolting the lock for the night. Hart’s transparency was noble, and she couldn’t help but feel guilty for not coming clean about her living conditions. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, right? She didn’t want him to know. She’d find a way out of her predicament if she had to work night and day to do it.

Sighing in the dark, she ran her hand up the inside of her t-shirt and fondled her breast, visions of Hart’s hands on her body coming to mind. The way he turned her around to face the mirror and watch her image as he brought her to ecstasy was thrilling and sexy. He was sexy, and she wanted more. The storage closet couch-bed was not an option. She’d have to navigate her secret carefully and insist they make love for the first time at his place. Or his sister’s home—whatever he called it. Relaxed and in total bliss, Gia slowly nodded off, imagining Hart lying next to her.

The next morning came quickly, and a pounding sound coming from the front door startled Gia out of a deep sleep. She grabbed yoga pants off the chair and stepped into flip-flops by the door. Latching the storage room tight behind her, she ran to the front of the studio, patting her hair down.

“Who is it?” she yelled. It was still relatively early, her first students of the day not arriving until after lunch.

“Miss Gia, it’s Edward.”

Gia sighed, her shoulders immediately sagging. Taking a deep breath and plastering a smile on her face, she opened the door.

“Good morning, Edward. You’re up bright and early!”

“I saw your car in the lot and knew you were here, so I thought I’d stop by and get your rent. It’s five days past due, Miss Gia.”

Edward Smith was an elderly gentleman who had owned the strip mall for as long as she could remember. He was kind and compassionate; always a bit embarrassed coming to Gia month after month to pick up the continually tardy rent check. She was the one who should be embarrassed being late all the time. The old man stood before her, clutching his well-worn ball cap in his gnarled hands.

“You want to come in for some coffee? I…I’ve been getting some work done this morning and could use some myself.”

“No ma’am, I’ve had my share this morning. Just here for the rent.”

Gia pursed her lips. “I was out late last night on a gig. I’m picking up the check this morning and will get it deposited right away. I’ll have your rent check before lunch. Sound good?” She held her breath and watched Edward nod bashfully before putting his ball cap over his thinning, gray hair.

“Sounds good. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Okay. Bye!” She shut the door and bolted the lock. “Fuck,” she cursed under her breath.

The check the entertainment company owed her plus what little she already had in the bank would barely cover her rent, leaving next to nothing left over. She still had her staff to pay, and the one credit card she had was maxed out. She was out of options as the two banks she’d visited the previous week had turned her down for a small business loan. Her head started to throb as she plodded back to her living quarters to get dressed for the day ahead.

By the time she reached the windowless, free-standing white stucco building off Highway 141 aptly named The White Satin, Gia had formulated a plan in her mind. She needed money and was willing to pay interest on a small loan from the owner, Franko Bartelli. She had purposefully worn her highest heels and a tight, knit dress that accentuated every lean curve on her body. Her black hair was flat-ironed to perfection, and her lips painted in a flashy red. Laughing at her reflection in the wall of mirrors back at her studio, she realized she looked like she just stepped out of a 1940s mobster movie. Hopefully, New York born and raised Franko would approve and have it in his heart to loan her the money.

The strip club wasn’t open for business until happy hour, but the side doors were spread wide, allowing liquor vendors to roll in boxes of alcohol from their trucks covered in brightly colored pictures, advertising the latest vodka and bourbon flavors. Several men whistled loudly, liking what they saw. Ignoring them, she walked into the building with purpose and blinked several times as she tried to adjust to the dim interior. The space smelled faintly of old cigars and stale beer. The focal point of the room was a large stage embellished with heavy, red velvet curtains and a gold-trimmed proscenium. The entire space was a throwback to an era from long ago. If the owner hadn’t made the place into a strip club, Gia thought it could have been a trendy jazz club or perhaps a local dinner theater. She marched toward the large management office off the lobby that was dripping with gold sconces and marble floors, the opulence obvious.

“Knock-knock! It’s Gia Bates.” She pushed the door open, peeking inside. Franko had reading glasses on and quickly pulled them off, arching his eyebrow in surprise. He was impeccably dressed in a suit and red satin tie and wore a large gold ring with a significant diamond on his pinky finger.

---