Author Note: Thanks for great response to the last few chapters! I appreciate all of you willing to trust me with this story.

Thanks again to moosals and NKubie for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

Chapter 10: Strip

I'm already shaking my head when Edward reaches me. He easily crawls up onto the table in front of me, preening and gyrating from his knees. The women near me reach over to add dollars to his collection, but he only seems to have eyes for me.

Moving off the table, he's suddenly on his knees on the bench seat, straddling me. I look up at his face, staring into his not-quite-green eyes, and God, I want to touch him, but I can't.

Edward straightens up, and suddenly his barely covered cock is just inches from my face. Practically the only thing I didn't do that debauched night was have him in my mouth.

Moving his hips, he brushes his cock against my breasts. His brow is pinched, his face the picture of concentration, and it almost seems like he's trying to control himself. And that turns me on even more.

But then I remind myself that he can't possibly be attracted to a woman my age. He's just acting, putting on a show for everyone.

When the music ends, he slides his feet to the floor, bending down to place a quick, chaste kiss on my surprised lips.

"Come with me," he begs, holding out his hand to mine.

Two strong drinks are enough to make me do it, to let him lead me through the screaming crowd to the hallway with the other dancers.

"I can't go in there!" I protest when we reach the door to what I assume is the dressing room.

"Bella, I assure you, these guys don't care if women see them naked. Half of them are gay, anyway," he shrugs. Before I can protest further, he takes my hand in his, leading me through the doorway.

It's hard not to stare at the mostly naked men as Edward leads me toward a small couch. "Sit here while I go take a shower, ok?" he asks quietly.

Before he can do that, I lean in, taking a whiff of his chest, then step back, frowning. "You don't smell like coconut."

"What?" he chuckles.

"At New Moon you smelled like coconut."

"Oh. Sorry — we use a different oil here. Will you please wait?"

"I'll wait," I answer quietly, taking a seat. I think I notice some sort of tattoo on his back as Edward walks over to a locker, pulling out his street clothes, then disappears through another door.

While he's gone, I try to stare at my hands and not the various naked backsides — and a handful of dicks — that pass through my line of sight.

"So how do you know Edward?" one man asks, stopping his bare legs in front of me.

I look up bravely, relieved to see that he's at least wearing boxers. "Um, I met him before he moved down here."

"Oh," he frowns. "I thought you might be like his aunt or something."

As he walks away, I can feel my face flaming. His aunt… that's only marginally better than wondering if I'm his mother.

"Hey," Edward calls and I look up to see him smiling at me. He's dressed in the clothes I saw him wearing earlier, his hair still damp from the shower. "These assholes give you any trouble?"

"Well, I saw more dicks than I have in the last decade," I grumble, making him laugh out loud.

"They were likely doing that on purpose — sorry," he giggles. "Are you ready to go?"

"Go where?" I ask, standing up. If he thinks I'm going home with him…

"I know a place. Come on." Once again, he puts his hand on the small of my back as he leads me out of the dressing room and out a back exit, and I wonder what the hell I'm doing following him.

We walk in silence toward the Boardwalk, stopping at a small coffee shop. "It's about the only thing open this late," he explains, holding the door for me.

I order a Chai tea, since it's not Starbucks, while Edward gets a huge slice of cherry pie and a bottle of water. We grab an open booth, sitting down across from each other.

"Thanks for staying for the show."

I shrug. "You're very talented, Edward."

"Thanks," he whispers, looking more shy than I've ever seen him.

"How long do you plan to keep dancing?" I ask. He was born to dance, it seems.

"As long as I can. I won't be young and pretty forever," he adds with a wink.

"What, um, what are you studying in school?"

"I'm just taking all of the basic core courses right now. I haven't decided on a major," he replies, shoveling a bite of pie into his mouth. He chews, then looks over at me. "What do you do? For a living, I mean."

"I work at an investment firm. I invest clients' money for them."

"Nice," he whistles.

"How much did you make in tips tonight?" I ask curiously.

"I don't know, I haven't counted." He pulls a large zippered pouch out of his back pocket and hands it to me. "You can count it. Sounds like you're good with money," he winks.

I really shouldn't do this, but curiosity wins out, and I open the pouch, pulling out the enormous stack of wadded up bills. I start separating them into piles of $20, my eyebrows rising higher and higher as I move past five stacks.

"You made $184! You weren't even dancing for that long," I comment.

"We do two shows on Fridays, so I make more then," he explains, sliding his empty plate away. "And during May and June."

"What happens in May and June?"

"Bachelorette parties," he grins. "Thinking of changing careers?"

"Right," I chuckle. Like anyone would pay to see a nearly 39-year-old woman strip.

Edward picks up my left hand suddenly, his thumb rubbing back and forth over my knuckles. "Still no ring," he says quietly.

I yank my hand out of his. "I haven't found 'the one' yet." He does not need to know about my pitiful dating life. "Wh-what about you?"

"What about me? I don't have a girlfriend, if that's what you're asking. I'm not a monk, but… I'm not a manwhore."

I decide to end this line of questioning now, before I can get too jealous over a man I don't even want. I never expected someone so sexual to be a monk, but the confirmation bugs me a bit, despite how much I don't want it to.

I take the last sip of my tea, then set the cup back down, licking my lips. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he nods. "Anything."

"Did you take money out of my purse?"

Edward's eyes widen for a moment, and then he nods sheepishly.

"Why didn't you take all of it?" I ask curiously.

He shrugs. "I didn't… I didn't want you to go to pay for something with cash and not have any. I knew what that was like. I'd pay you back," he adds, nodding toward the stacks of bills, "But I kinda need that money for rent."

"Keep it," I tell him. "I don't need it."

"Please believe that I never wanted to hurt you, Bella."

"But you did," I answer, feeling tears prick at my eyes. "It wasn't the money; I make plenty of money. I just… you made me doubt myself, doubt my judgment. I'd never… done anything like that before," I whisper. "But I trusted you and… you abused my trust, Edward."

He hangs his head, staring down at the tabletop. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I know I brought it all on myself, but I didn't know what else to do — I was desperate."

"I understand that, I do, but… That doesn't make it hurt any less. To know that it was all an act — that whole night was an act, to get me to pass out so you could steal from me."

"What?!" he shouts, getting the attention of the handful of other patrons.

I'm crying silent tears by this point, and I reach up to angrily brush my tears away. "Don't deny it."

Edward tears at his hair with both hands, his elbows on the table. "Out of all of my… victims," he lowers his voice, "You're the only one I would've slept with regardless."

He lifts his head, and we stare into each other's eyes. I want to believe that so badly; would he have said it if it wasn't true? He's a good liar — or he was — but his eyes look nothing but sincere.

Reaching out, he takes my right hand and turns it palm up. As he lightly traces one finger over my palm, my entire body breaks out in goosebumps. "I'm not that good of an actor, Bella."

I inhale sharply. Maybe it wasn't all in my head. At the realization, that tiny broken piece of me feels like it's been stitched back together.

Edward's phone buzzes, breaking the intense moment between us. He pulls it out of his pocket, typing out a quick message, then sets it on the table.

"Do you have somewhere to be?" I ask, motioning to his phone.

He shakes his head. "Bree wanted to know if I could trade shifts with her tomorrow."

"Oh. I'd better get going anyway. I'm actually staying in Carmel, and I have a 6am flight to San Francisco."

"Are you ok to drive?"

"I'm fine," I nod. "I just had the two drinks earlier."

"Could I…" He trails off, then pushes his phone over toward me. "Your number? Please?"

I'll probably never understand why I'm doing this, but I slowly pick up his phone, entering my first name and cell number in his Contacts. I tell myself I don't have to answer if he ever calls or texts — not that I expect him to. And if I get his number in return, I can… keep tabs on him somewhat. Make sure he stays out of trouble. Yeah.

Once I'm finished, Edward takes his phone and calls my number, and I silence my own phone. "Now you have mine," he says with a small smile.

Standing up from the booth, we walk out of the coffee shop together. By some unspoken agreement, Edward walks with me back to my car. I hit the unlock button on the keyfob, and the headlights flash.

"Thank you again for not turning me in," he says quietly. "I know I don't deserve your kindness."

Nodding, I open the car door. As I'm about to sit down, he reaches out, pulling me into his warm embrace. His fingers brush gently down my arms as he pulls away. "Goodbye, Bella."

"Goodbye," I whisper, almost to myself.

A/N: So, Edward didn't get her back into bed, as many of you thought. He didn't even try. Of course some of you were cheering her on to get some no-strings vacation sex. And some of you still wanted her to hit him.

Bella finally got her confirmation that the entire night wasn't a lie — do we believe him? And now she's going back home, though Edward does have her phone number…

Updates will stick with every other day for the next little while.