Phoenix Burning by Maitland Kaitlin Page B

decades telling her that she’d never be good enough for the Donovans of the world, the men who wanted a woman who knew her place.
    She searched for something to say that would diffuse his romantic intentions. “Actually, I was hoping we could talk about the petition.”
    “The petition.”
    “Do you have it with you?”
    He released her hand, his expression settling into something she could label only as careful. “It’s in the car. Do you want me to get it?”
    “Yes, please.”
    His brief retreat gave her a few minutes to scrape her courage together. He reminded her so much of her father. A slick, suave exterior that drew you in, and a cold, controlling interior that made you want to run. She’d gone out with him because he’d asked her, because she was willing to try anything.
    The first date had been mediocre at best. As usual, she’d been tongue tied and shy. He’d seemed to like her demure attitude, asking her out again almost immediately. It was on the second date where he’d started to show his true colors. He’d ordered her food, criticized her clothing, and pinned her to his side like a dog on a leash. She’d spent a good portion of the evening hiding in the restroom, trying not to hyperventilate as her anxiety reached uncontrollable heights.
    Donovan reentered the shop and set the sheaf of papers on the counter beside her. “I’m hoping your eagerness to see the petition means you want to sign it.”
    Two signatures caught her eye. Dacey Tolliver and Clement Latham? Why would a woman who owned a bookshop and the proprietor of an art gallery sign a petition like this?
    “I’m glad to see you’ve come to your senses about the lewd conduct at the bar.” Donovan’s smile was as oily as his gelled hair.
    “Is that the basis of your complaint against them?” She thought about the skintight uniforms he’d chosen for his wait staff. “You think they’re violating public indecency laws?”
    “Of course!” His tone took on the Captain Downtown cadence that Fox claimed induced mega migraine headaches. “The kinds of riffraff that go to that place aren’t the kind of patrons I want in my establishment.”
    “So the Phoenix isn’t a threat to you financially?” She could practically smell the bullshit. There was something else going on here.
    “Public displays of sexual acts have no place in our city. The people who go there are crass and rowdy. They cause trouble and commit crimes. Law enforcement has been looking the other way for years now and it has to stop.” His face was turning red.
    If law enforcement had looked the other way, Emory suspected it was because they either enjoyed hanging out there, or what actually went on inside was still at more of an urban myth status. Still, she knew there was more to MacIntyre’s problem than he would admit. “So the entire basis of your petition is public indecency?” She felt like Chris working a deposition.
    “Yes!”
    “What, exactly, constitutes public indecency? The current laws covering nudity exclude bars like the Phoenix from the list of public places as long as they have strict age restrictions and don’t have a menu large enough to qualify them as a restaurant. There’s no prostitution going on, it’s consensual, and I didn’t see anything that struck me as a violation of the law.” That was sort of stretching the truth, since fornicating in public most likely fell under the heading of “stuff the cops purposely didn’t see.” On the other hand, she wasn’t going to be the one to blow the whistle.
    He absorbed her careful speech for several minutes. “Did you say what you saw ?”
    “Are you telling me you’ve never been inside?” A strange thought occurred to her. What if MacIntyre’s entire campaign against the Phoenix was based on that urban myth? That would almost certainly mean he had ulterior motives of the economic variety.
    “What goes on in there is common knowledge. I don’t need to immerse myself in that