Surrender Read Online Free PDF Page B

did you work before taking a job here?”
    “British Petroleum.”
    That stuns her into silence. “Doing what?”
    “I’m a mechanical engineer.”
    She’s assessing me—her gaze moves from my eyes to my lips. I smile.
    “Where’d you go to school?”
    “MIT—finished my degree early.”
    She laughs anxiously. “That’s crazy.”
    “Is it? Why?”
    “MIT super-geeks don’t look like you.”
    “Oh?” I ask. “What do they look like?”
    “Not like you,” she repeats.
    “How many of my unfortunate brethren have you actually met?”
    She thinks momentarily and then gives me a frustrated growl. “None.”
    “So you’re stereotyping. That’s beneath you.”
    “What?” She nearly loses her composure. “I’d never do that . . . really.”
    She’s delightfully gullible. I like her, a lot. “How old are you?” I ask.
    “Twenty.”
    I rub my chin. Damn. She’s too young to drink. I have a feeling . . . the waitress appears.
    “Two hundred dollars, please.” She puts the green bottle and a corkscrew on the table. Then she pulls two elegantly shaped champagne flutes from her apron.
    I hand her two fifty. “Make sure we’re left alone.”
    She nods. “Thanks.” She leaves.
    I open the Dom and fill both glasses. I slide one toward her.
    “I shouldn’t.” Her eyes say different.
    She needs a drink to calm her nerves. Besides, every girl I know loves champagne. However, she’s correct and shouldn’t drink. I won’t encourage it, but I won’t deny her anything . She takes the flute and sneaks a quick sip. There’s the smile I craved. Light dances in those blue eyes when she’s happy.
    An odd tremor sweeps through my body when Garrick looks at me. His presence screws with my emotions. My head. Why did I accept his invitation to the VIP room? Everyone knows what goes on in here; that’s why I avoid it whenever I can. Men expect “special favors” when they pay for a private table. Last year Metallica came in. Five girls were fired after they were caught giving BJs in here. Of course, they were back at work three weeks later.
    If Garrick thinks a fat bankroll impresses me, he’s wrong. I need money for tuition and rent, that’s all. It’s definitely not a prerequisite for liking someone. There are things about him that don’t add up, such as his education and former job. Is he lying? “Why are you coming to work at the Den if you’re an engineer?”
    He doesn’t hesitate to answer. “I have too many responsibilities at home,” he says in a low voice. “I’m away months at a time. It’s great money, but I’ve missed out on a lot.”
    “Like what?”
    “Family,” he says. “There’s nothing more important to me.”
    Surprisingly, we agree on something else. Since I don’t have any real family to speak of, I fantasize what it would be like to be part of his. “People dream of having the luxury of changing professions. But I’ve never heard of anyone leaving a legitimate career for working in a strip club.”
    He chuckles. “I’m tired of dealing with bureaucratic bullshit . . . governmental red tape . . . industry shortcuts . . . environmental activists. It’s not what I envisioned for myself. Too much politics. I spent more time babysitting executives and EPA regulators then I did in the field.”
    I feign a smile. Some people never know how lucky they are. Somehow, Garrick strikes me as the kind of man who appreciates what he has most of the time, though I won’t admit it to him. Abandoning an important career so you can spend more time with family isn’t the wisest decision in this economy.
    “What?” he asks.
    “It’s crazy I’m busting my ass to get where you are and you’re leaving it all behind for nothing.”
    “It’s a brutal world out there,” he comments. “Some people enjoy corporate culture, the internal politics and bloodletting. There’s more to life than money.”
    I wasn’t expecting that last statement, not from a guy wearing