The Art of Sin by Alexandrea Weis

tell anyone what you do, isn’t it?”
         Furious that he had shared such intimate feelings with her, Grady snatched up his bag and marched toward the neutral ground that divided Esplanade Avenue. He was heading for the French Quarter when Al came running up to him.
         “Wait, Grady. Don’t walk away angry. I didn’t mean to—”
         “To what? Judge me?” He turned to her. “Do you know how it feels for people to judge you before you even open your mouth?” He waved his hand down her body. “When people find out what you do, you earn their respect. When they find out what I do, I earn their disgust. Thanks for all of your help.”
         He was about to storm off when Al placed her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I was judging you. I shouldn’t have done that.”
         He studied the traffic on the busy street. “Don’t worry about it.”
         “I will worry about it. I don’t want you to think … that show of yours starts at eleven, right?”
         He nodded, but did not look at her.
         “You’d better make it real damn good, if you plan on changing my mind.”
         Grady’s resentment eased, and he faced her. “Are you sure?”
         She let go of his arm. “I’ll be there. I promise.” 
         He blew out a breath, letting go of his frustration. “All right, Allison. I’ll be watching for you.”
         He admired the contours of her face and the attraction that had plagued him, since he had first set eyes on Al, turned from a spark into a full on bonfire. In a matter of seconds, he had gone from wanting her to caring for her. The shift in his feelings worried, more than excited, Grady.
         How could such an amazing woman ever care for a man like me?
         As he mulled over the expression in her gray eyes, he noticed a slight change in them. No longer did he see the glare of cold contempt in her unsettling orbs; now there was a glint of genuine warmth. It was the first time he could remember sensing anything like that from her. Until he had seen the change in her, he would never have thought he stood a chance. Grady believed the winds of fate had shifted his way, and that the recalcitrant Allison Wagner was beginning to see the man and not the G-string.   

Chapter 7
     
         For the third time in an hour, Grady made the trek from his dressing room to the side stage door to check the pit for Al. He had cracked the door and was scanning the crowd for her head of long, blonde hair. Even so, the dim lights set over the pit area made it impossible to see much of anything. Dressed in his tuxedo, he had less than ten minutes to go before his act was due on stage. He was dabbing his forehead with a towel and trying not to soak his costume in sweat before he went out under the bright lights.
         “Who you are looking for?” Lewis asked, coming up to him. “Have you got another club owner coming to check you out?”
         Lewis had donned his second costume for the night: a black biker outfit with black leather pants, a black leather jacket, red bandana, and dark sunglasses.
         Grady tossed the towel to a backstage chair. “No, a friend is coming.”
         “A friend that makes you sweat like that?” He peered over Grady’s shoulder into the crowd of women. “Who is she?”
         “Damn, I can’t find her,” Grady admitted.
         “Give me a description and a name,” Lewis demanded.
         Grady glanced back at him. “Why?”
         “I’ll tell Teddy, the bouncer, to let your girlfriend in for free.”
         “Friend, not girlfriend. Actually … she’s my landlord.”
         Lewis chuckled and slapped Grady’s back. “You’re kidding? You invited your landlord here? Does she know what you do?”
         “Yeah, she knows.”
         “What does the hag look like?” Lewis joked.
         “Al’s not a hag. She’s petite with long, blonde