Good, Bad...Better. Cindi Myers

find her way in out of the rain. Obviously, he saw her that way because she’d let him. All those years of doing whatever he’d wanted her to do had led him to believe she was helpless. She was paying for her complacency now. “I can learn those things,” she said. “I can make it on my own.”

      Once more he looked offended. “Why should you have to, as long as I’m here?” He nodded. “I intend to make sure you remain safe.”

      “I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation.” What had happened to the indulgent, loving father who had always given her whatever she’d wanted?

      But that was when she’d been the sweet, good girl who never made waves. “I’m going to Chicago,” she said, her voice firm.

      “No, you’re not.” His expression was equally rigid.

      “I don’t see how you can stop me.”

      “I have friends in Chicago. They can use their influence to persuade the dance company to send you home.”

      At first, she was sure she hadn’t heard him right. “You wouldn’t do anything so cruel.”

      “I would do whatever I had to do to protect you.” Though his jaw remained set, the expression in his eyes softened a little. “Tough love is one of the hardest parts of being a parent. But you’ll see I’m right one day.”

      She shook her head, too stunned to speak. “No, you’re wrong this time.” She ran from the room and up the stairs. She heard him calling after her, but she ignored him. Nothing he could say right now would ease the hurt she felt.

      She sank onto the bed in her room, the same room where she’d spent most of her life. She’d thought about getting a place of her own many times, but her schedule didn’t leave a lot of free time for apartment hunting, and the salary she brought in wouldn’t allow her to rent anything very nice. It had seemed easier to stay at home.

      Just like it had seemed easier to go along with her father’s wishes all these years. Until now.

      She couldn’t live like this anymore. She gently touched the calla lily tattoo, her first sign of rebellion. Who would have thought her father would have such a fit over such a little thing? And the move to Chicago? Apparently, she wasn’t the only one with hidden feelings.

      She slid off the bed and went to her computer and switched it on. Obviously, her father thought if he put up a big enough fuss, she’d back down and stay home like the good girl she’d always been. But she couldn’t do that this time. She couldn’t give up her dream job to keep the peace at home.

      And in her heart she couldn’t believe he would keep her from that dream. When she showed him how serious she was about this, and that she could look out for herself, he’d come around. It might take some doing, but she was as stubborn as he was.

      When the computer had booted up, she opened her word-processing program and typed in the address of the Chicago Institute of Dance. “Dear Sirs,” she began. “I am pleased and excited to accept the opportunity of an internship with Razzin’! I look forward to seeing you on September 1.”

      She glanced at the calendar over her desk. The first of September was a little over two months away. Two months to make her dad see things from her point of view. Two months to put aside the complacent good girl and find out just how strong she really was.

      Her letter written, she was carefully applying ointment to her new tattoo, per the printed instructions Theresa had given her, when her phone rang. She wiped her hands on a tissue and answered it. “Hey, Jen, can you talk?”

      Her best friend Shelly’s voice, rich with a Georgia accent, filled her ear. “Sure, I can talk.” She lay back against the bed pillows. “What’s up?”

      “I don’t know. Maybe nothing.”

      “What has Aaron done now?” Aaron Prior was Shelly’s newly licensed lawyer boyfriend and, to hear her talk, was both the chief love and the chief cause of frustration in her life.

      “It’s what he hasn’t done. Don’t you think after dating someone for five years, it’s not unreasonable to expect a ring? A proposal?”

      “Have you asked him about it? I mean, where he wants to go with your relationship?”

      “Believe me, I’ve tried. But I hardly see him these days. He’s always working or involved in something else. He’s broken dates twice in the past month. I’m worried he’s getting tired of me.”

      “No! He adores you.” Most men adored Shelly. The voluptuous redhead could charm the most reticent recluse, a talent which came in handy in her job teaching junior high school students. “I’m sure it’s just the pressure of his new job.”

      “I don’t know. Maybe he’s found someone else. A cute secretary or paralegal. Or another lawyer.” Shelly sounded utterly bereft. “That would explain why he’s suddenly spending so much more time on the job instead of with me.”

      Jen leaned over to replace the lid on the jar of ointment, then arranged herself more comfortably on the bed. “I’m sure that’s not it. You need to pin him down and ask him. If you tell him what you’re feeling, maybe he’ll cut back on his hours.”

      Shelly sighed like an overwrought actress told to convey frustrated regret. “I don’t know what I’m going to do about that man. But enough about me. What’s up with you?”

      “Well…I got a tattoo today.”

      “What!”

      Jen had to move the phone away to prevent damage to her eardrum. “I got a tattoo.”

      “What of? Where? When?”

      Jen laughed, imagining the expression of avid interest on her friend’s face. “It’s a calla lily. Right above my left breast. And I got it this morning.”

      “Did it hurt? What was it like?”

      “It hurt a little. But…it was an interesting experience.” The presence of one very sexy artist had definitely upped the interest factor. “There was this guy there….”

      “Oooh. I can tell by your voice he was hot.”

      She laughed. “Yeah, he was hot. His name’s Zach Jacobs and he owns the place. Well, he and his sister do. Or maybe she just works for him. I’m not sure.”

      “Who cares about the sister? Tell me about him.”

      How to describe Zach? “He’s sort of dark and…brooding. He’s about six-two. Long, black hair in a braid. Gorgeous black eyes. Muscles. Tattoos, but not too many. Leather.” The physical description made him sound good, but it didn’t really tell Shelly anything about him.

      “He sounds positively yummy!” Shelly said.

      “Yeah, well, he’s really interesting, too. He’s an incredible artist.”

      “Maybe I should go see him about a tattoo.”

      The thought of shameless Shelly presenting her not-inconsiderable chest for Zach’s study made Jen’s stomach clench. “His sister did the actual tattoo,” she said. “Zach was just there.”

      “Uh-huh. And you and he hit it off?”

      “Sort of.” What had happened with her and Zach? Nothing really. But, then again, a lot.

      “Your father would hate him.”

      Shelly sounded so certain of this, but Jen hadn’t seen it coming. Then again, she’d never dated much, and even then only boring, respectable guys her father couldn’t help but approve of. “He wasn’t exactly thrilled with the tattoo, that’s for sure.”

      “And you thought he would be?”

      “Well, he’s never said anything before about the way I dressed or wore my hair.”

      Shelly laughed. “Only