Skin by Patricia Rosemoor Page A

no Michael. So why did she feel disappointed? He unnerved her, so she should be glad he wasn’t there.
    Gabe wasn’t around, either, which made her wonder if he was off the case. But halfway through the night, he was at his usual place at the bar.
    She was about to check in with him when the dancer named Irene stopped her and handed her a folded piece of paper.
    “From an admirer.”
    “Thanks. I think,” she murmured.
    Lilith quickly opened and scanned the note. I request the pleasure of your company at my table for a drink.
    “Paul Ensdorf?” She gave the other dancer a questioning look.
     The blonde pointed to a nearby table whose occupant avidly watched for Lilith’s reaction. She remembered the first time she’d been at the club, he’d tripped a stripper and then had put his hands all over her to help her up.
    “Um, I’m supposed to be selling drinks.”
    “Get him to buy a bottle of champagne, and Sal won’t care what you do with him. The idea is to bring in money, honey.”
    Lilith grabbed the martinis Joe pushed at her. She served the drinks, then, taking a deep breath, she headed for her new admirer.
    Already standing, Paul Ensdorf was a bit shorter than she was in her heels. Not that it seemed to bother him. He was all boyish smiles to go with the sandy hair, a lock of which fell onto his forehead. And, like a true gentleman, he held out a chair for her and said, “I’m delighted you could join me.”
    Lilith remained standing. “I can only stay for a moment. My job is to serve drinks.”
    He sat. “What if I bought a bottle of champagne?”
    “Well, if you’re planning on buying a bottle, the least I can do is share a toast.”
    “Then a bottle it is.”
    Nodding, she headed back to the bar, noting that Michael had finally shown up. His smile made her stomach tighten. She steeled herself against the attraction. She needed to focus on one thing only. Figuring out who had her sister.
    So when Michael started talking to one of the dancers, reached in a pocket and handed her what looked like a business card, why did that bother her?
    By the time she got to the bar, Joe was already setting out a bottle of champagne and two glasses.
    “Uh, how did you know?” she asked.
    He shrugged. “It’s for Ensdorf.”
    “So he’s here a lot?”
    Joe laughed. “Nearly every night his sister Melinda works.”
    He indicated the dark-haired dancer on stage, nude but for a g-string, thigh high stockings, elbow-length gloves and a tattoo of big red lips in the middle of her right butt cheek. Her brother was fixated on her, his expression tight. Lilith watched Melinda walk right over to Paul and shake her naked breasts in his face. Then, seeming satisfied that he was near apoplectic, Melinda strutted away from him as her music segued to that of the next dancer.
    When Lilith got back to the table, Paul was still flushed. He pulled out two hundred dollar bills to pay her and refused to take change. Then he insisted she sit with him for that toast.
    “I want to get to know you better, Lilith.”
    “I told you I can only stay for a few minutes.”
    “Over tea,” he continued. “High tea is so civilized, don’t you think?” Staring at her cleavage, he leaned forward and slipped a hand over hers. His palm was sweaty, making her skin crawl. “And I can tell you are the kind of girl who appreciates class.”
    Was he for real? Lilith laughed as she removed her hand and fussed with the vest, and inadvertently, the heart-half. “What? I have ‘ class’ written across my forehead?”
    Paul’s gaze was caught by the movement, and then he stared up into her face as if judging her. A cunning expression quickly flickered across his features.
    “I want to take you to nice places.” He spoke as if her going out with him was a done deal. “We can start with The Plaza, say tomorrow afternoon.”
    “You want to go to a hotel? For tea?”
    He suddenly seemed off a beat, not quite the nice boy-next-door. “And finger