Read THE TOKEN for Free Online Page B

path. That I'm one of the exotic dancers at his exclusive club, Black Rose.
    Thorn left because he doesn't want to clue his boss in on the relationship to me. Why?
    Our handshake breaks. His finger trails along the inside of my wrist, and as it leaves my flushed skin, my heartbeat accelerates. I watch his pupils eat his brown irises. I can't tell if the dimming of his gaze is from the gloom of the room or that I have a clue to how I affect him. Our meeting is a testimony to the power of carnal attraction. Chemistry doesn't discriminate as to timing, looks, or circumstance. It's there to be recognized and play out, regardless of environment.
    What's happening is exactly what I don't need. I look terrible, I have a visit to my mom's bedside tonight, and a set tomorrow night on the lap of another stranger. I'm facing the man who is my boss, my assailant, and savior all in one chaotic package. And he's enough of a man to make a legion of panties disintegrate.
    Incinerate.
    Jared McKenna leans back, drawing his pant leg down as he crosses his knees at the ankle. His eyes are shadowed as he stares at me.
    I break the silence. “I'm Faren Mitchell.”
    I pray he has too many dancers to know who I am. I can't help my embarrassment.
    His manicured nail, blunt and perfect, flicks the clipboard with my medical chart. One corner of his lush mouth picks up in a dimpled half-smile, and I blush, glancing at my hands. Of course he knows who I am. He takes my cool fingers and frowns a little at them. My eyes are hidden, staring at my lap as my heart beats a staccato rhythm.
    He turns my palm over and talks to my hand. “I'm so sorry, Faren.”
    He says my name like a talisman, and I look up, startled by the soft way his voice caresses the syllables. I gaze at him numbly, his fingers playing over my knuckles. It's more intimacy than I've received from a human being since Mom was taken from me four years ago. It's a terrible beauty that the genuine touch of another human being moves me.
    I've lap danced with dozens of men in the last ten days, but Jared makes me feel as though I'm part of him. The light play of his fingers over my flesh creates a symphony of sensation.
    I want to snatch my hand away.
    I want him to move on to other body parts. I'm so out of my emotional comfort zone that I can't breathe.
    I say the first thing that comes to mind. “It's not your fault. I was-I was upset.” I glance at Jared again then bite my lip, casting my eyes downward.
    He squeezes my hand lightly. The callouses on his palm scrape an erotic path as they slide away from my skin.
    I miss his touch and feel relief at the same time.
    He rakes the hand that was just touching mine through his hair and exhales. “It's not your fault. I should have seen you before you were in the street.”
    I look at him without wanting to, and his deep brown eyes pull me in. They look so sincere. He doesn’t look like a rich guy who’s had it easy. There's a hardness to him, an edge. Jared McKenna isn’t accustomed to being scrutinized, and he smoothly redirects my thoughts.
    “I’ve already paid the bill for your care,” he says. A sheepish smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.
    Thank God! I think then on the heels of that , How dare he?
    My eyes narrow and he looks surprised.
    “What?” he asks as if he doesn't know .
    Like he doesn't realize how manipulative the whole paying it is. I don’t want to be an ungrateful wench, but I cross my arms underneath my breasts. The unattractive baby blue hospital tent covering me from knee to neck hitches up, and I watch his eyes shift to my breasts then away.
    Still a guy. An unapologetic, manipulative, gorgeous guy.
    “I have health insurance.”
    He nods, his strong chin holding a kiss from God in the center. My mind swirls with drug-induced thoughts of him as my angel, and a little smile touches my lips.
    His stare moves to my mouth. “I understand. However, I feel responsible, so I'll take care of it.”
    His words are