Don't Break This Kiss (Top Shelf Romance Book 5)

by Jessica Hawkins

  Johnny pulled into their parking spot and shut off the car. “When we own the bar, does that mean we can hire other people to work this late?”

  She looked over at him. It was the first attempt at conversation he’d made since their argument.

  “We’re getting too old for this shit,” he continued. There was something in his voice—nerves? Guilt? When she didn’t respond, he said, “I’m sorry about earlier. I acted like a jerk.”

  Lola glanced at her hands. “I’m not admitting to that. To the thing about being too old.” One thing she appreciated about Johnny was his ability to admit his faults. When they fought, he almost always apologized first. And when he didn’t, it was because he didn’t think he’d done anything wrong. “I promised my early-twenties self that I’d never get old,” she said. “But my late-twenties self is having a tough time holding up her end of the bargain.”

  Johnny grinned—she knew without even looking. Things were right with him again, but not for long. As they got out of the car and walked to their apartment, the air around Lola seemed thick, as if a storm were brewing.

  Johnny fought with the lock on the front door. “Every damn time,” he muttered. He flipped on the lights once they were inside. “We should think about getting a new place.”

  “I’d like that,” Lola said.

  He tossed his keys on the coffee table. “How much would you love not paying rent?”

  “So much,” she said on the way to the kitchen. “Adults pay mortgages, after all.”

  “Yep.” He came up behind her, curling his arms around her middle as she poured herself water from the tap. “You know what else adults do?”

  “I can think of a thing or two,” she said.

  He nuzzled her neck, squeezing her to him. “How about a shower to wash the night off? We both stink like cigarettes.” He slid his hands up to her breasts. “Good thing I like you anyway.”

  “A shower at three in the morning?”

  “I don’t care. Horny, babe.”

  Water flooded the glass in the sink. She was unaffected by his advances. His cruelty and abrupt dismissal earlier still left her chilly. But even if she responded to Johnny’s touch, she couldn’t sleep with him. Not after she’d told Beau she hadn’t.

  “Johnny,” she said.

  “Yeah.”

  “I called him.”

  He stopped moving. His breath warmed her cheek. Her anxious heart was trying to burst out of her chest.

  “What?” He released her. “You’re going back?”

  She turned around and steeled herself against the sink. “Yes.”

  “But you—I thought we’d discuss it more.”

  “You said what you had to say outside the bar. I didn’t like it, but you said it. So I made the call.”

  “Well, fuck.” He ran his hands over his scalp and held them up. “You just made the call, that’s it?”

  “He agreed to another million,” she said. “Same terms as before.”

  He dropped his arms at his sides. “You should’ve discussed this with me. What if I didn’t want you to do it again? Or what if we could’ve gotten more? We hold the cards here.”

  She gripped the counter, narrowing her eyes. The money was becoming too important a factor for him. “Don’t be ridiculous. Another million is more than enough. And you’re the one who told me to call.”

  “Come on, Lola. You know how I am. I was mouthing off because I was pissed.”

  She’d known exactly that, but she’d made the call anyway. Did that mean she was to blame? “So, what? You don’t want me to do it?”

  He blew his cheeks out with his exhale. “I…”

  They both looked away from each other, he into the next room and she at the stove. Her heartbeat had slowed. There was no point in pretending he didn’t want that money enough to let her do this again. She wasn’t the only bad guy. Her desire to see Beau became less of a weight on her shoulders.

  “I saw a video online. You and him at that benefit or whatever.” Johnny’s eyes darted over the floor.

  “When?”

  “A couple days ago.”

  She’d forgotten he might see that. Johnny’d wanted details—how was that for one? Her red lips glued to Beau’s mouth, turning his lips red too? “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He shrugged in his lumbering way, looking up again. “Brenda found it on one of those entertainment news sites. Mark showed me it on his phone.”

  “What’d you say?”

  “It caught me totally off guard,” he said. “I had nothing.”

  Her stomach heaved. She covered it with one arm. Mark and Brenda weren’t judgmental people, but that didn’t matter. A situation like this was nearly impossible to justify. “You told them the truth? Please tell me you’re joking.”

  “What was I supposed to say, it was your long lost twin out for a night on the town with one of the richest men in Los Angeles? Mark and I played pool with the guy the night he came into the bar.”

  “Too many people know.”

  “You should’ve thought of that. Did you not notice the cameras? I asked you not to kiss him, so you went and did it in front of thousands of people.”

  “But, Johnny, he—”

  “Yeah, yeah, he made you do it. They called you ‘Beau Olivier’s Sassy Mystery Woman.’ Sassy? In what universe do people use that word? And to describe my girlfriend?”

  “You don’t understand. I was playing a part.”

  “You were damn convincing too. Especially when you told that reporter to take her hands off your man. Real sassy. You think I liked having to watch that in front of my best friend? Trying not to react?”

  Lola rubbed under her eyes with her knuckles. “I’m sorry you had to see that, but you know what I was dealing with.”

  “Whatever.” He started to leave, but turned back to her. His stance relaxed, and he put his hands out, as if asking her for help with something. It reminded her of the first time he’d come with her to the Laundromat, and she’d explained the concept of delicates. “So tell me how this goes,” he said. “He picks you up. Takes you—where, his place? A motel? Does he push you onto your knees or do you go willingly?”

  She flinched. “Stop it.”

  “In your stupid dress and red lipstick—yeah, I saw that on the video too. Why don’t you wear lipstick like that for me?”

  “Like what?” she asked. “You want me to wear red lipstick while I wait tables at a dive bar?”

  “Did it ever occur to you that I might like to see you in such a fancy dress?”

  “No, because it’s not us. That was some girl Beau dressed up like a doll.”

  “Oh, drop the act. What girl wouldn’t love to be fussed over like that?”

  So what if she had? The hair on the back of her neck rose. “You want me to dress up for you, then maybe you could make a fucking fuss over me once in a while.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “You think I don’t? I brag about you to anyone who’ll listen. My hot-as-shit girlfriend Lola—have you seen her in leather pants? Do you know how smart she is, how many ideas she has? Have you seen those eyes? I love those fucking blue eyes, man.” Johnny leaned his hands against the tiled counter and took a deep breath. “I’m the luckiest son of a fucking bitch.”

  Johnny had his moments, but hearing how highly he thought of her was harrowing. It was almost enough for her to confess her attraction to Beau so it would stop feeling like such a secret between them. But she couldn’t bring herself to. She’d already imagined Beau at the curb several times, waiting for her to come to him. It was a secret, and it was dirty.

  If she didn’t go now, her mind would fill in the blanks of their night together. Driving somewhere exciting to start the night. Beau, unable to keep his hands off her in public knowing how good it could be.

  “We can’t do this,” Johnny said.

  Lola jerked her head to him. But she’d made the decision for them both. He’d had his chance. He didn’t get to say no now. Did
he? She couldn’t cancel. She didn’t want to.

  “We can’t fight,” he continued. “If we don’t go into this together, then you’re going in alone, and that puts us on opposite sides. With him in middle. We can’t let him get between us.”

  Divided they were weaker. Beau knew that too, though. Her connection with Johnny stretched thinner the more it was pulled in opposite directions.

  “We’ve done this once already, so how do we do it better this time?” He pushed off the counter and paced in front of her. He pulled on his chin. “It’s like this. B—no, not business. Logical. This plus this equals that. Remove the emotional side and look at it logically. I’m not so good at that, babe, but you are. And I can try.”

  “Logical?” she asked. There was nothing logical about her and Beau in the same room, but there could be between her and Johnny. She followed him with her eyes.

  “You already know what to expect,” he said. “It was, what, less than twelve hours? For a million bucks.” He paused. “He didn’t hurt you. He didn’t force you.”

  She shook her head.

  “Say something.”

  It couldn’t be done. Beau couldn’t be managed. But Lola already felt him. She already tasted him. He was too close for her to walk away now. So she said, “I think you might be right.”

  “Two million gets us everything we wanted for the bar plus a new place and a car for you. Wouldn’t that be enough?” he asked.

  “Yes. It’ll leave us a decent amount.”

  “Good.” He nodded.

  “But this is where we draw the line,” she said. “I don’t care if it’s ten million for a week. This is far enough for me.” No matter how tempted she was to spend more time with Beau, he’d bought enough of her. This had to be the last night for them.

  Johnny stopped pacing and came to stand in front of her. He cupped her face. “It is. This will be enough.” His hands twitched like he was going to let go, but he didn’t. “You know what else this gets us?”

  “What?”

  “A wedding fund.”

  Lola bit her lip. “Johnny.”

  “And a college fund.”

  It was the worst moment to bring up marriage and kids. It blended her budding desire for those things, her guilt over wanting Beau and her disappointment in Johnny—and herself—into the same pot. She pressed her hand to her chest. “Are you…you’re serious?”

  “Thought I was a piece of shit for wanting to bring a kid into the world when I had nothing to give him. But now? Everything’s different. Send him to fucking Harvard if I want.”

  Lola hadn’t even known where Harvard was until a few years ago. She couldn’t keep up with what Johnny was saying. While she was selling her body for their future, there was no space in her mind for what that bought her. The picture wouldn’t form.

  Everything teetered dangerously close to the edge. She wasn’t sure if the right decision was to reach out and pull it back—or to let it fall.

  Chapter 20

  When Lola was fourteen, she’d stolen makeup from a nearby drugstore. Some crimes were small. Some were big. Some were never found out—like the makeup—and then, were they really crimes at all? Lola paced in front of the window, pausing every few minutes to see the sun a little lower. She didn’t even need what she’d taken. For years, she’d walked an extra four blocks to a different drugstore.

  Lola stopped her march to watch the building across the street eat the last sliver of sun. Almost right away, a black limo appeared through the complex gate.

  By the way her palms sweat and her heart pounded like they had fifteen years ago, Lola knew instinctively—she shouldn’t get in that limo. There was more at stake than Johnny realized. Maybe enough to change them permanently. What kind of crime was it to do it anyway? If nobody knew but her, did it matter?

  Beau had sent over a large box earlier that day with a red bow around it. The gift was lavish—a gold, beaded dress that crisscrossed in the back and had one slit all the way to her upper right thigh. Johnny had played it off—Beau had to pay for Lola’s attention, and Johnny got that for free. But Lola had ignored him, running her fingers over the intricate beadwork. She didn’t need to be pampered or spoiled, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t nice once in a while.

  Lola had waited to change until Johnny’d left for work. She’d done her makeup, attempting to recreate her look from her first evening with Beau so he’d look at her again the way he had in the reflection of the salon’s mirror. This time, though, she left her hair down.

  Lola opened the door before Warner had a chance to knock. “Good evening, Miss Winters. Mr. Olivier is ready for you.”

  She locked the apartment behind her. “How long have you worked for Beau?” she asked as they curved around the pool and crossed the courtyard.

  Warner kept his eyes forward. “Almost ten years.”

  “You must’ve been young when you started.”

  “Only a few years older than Mr. Olivier.”

  “Have you always wanted to—drive? Do you do other things?”

  “I also drive Miss Leroux.”

  “Who?”

  He leaned forward and opened the limo door. Beau had a pile of papers on his lap and a phone to his ear. He nodded at her and covered the mouthpiece. “Wait there a moment.” He returned to his conversation as Lola stood on the sidewalk. Warner had disappeared.

  Beau hung up without even a goodbye. He made a note on the paperwork in his lap, then tossed it on the car floor. He smiled up at her—like he was a king who’d just returned from a long day ruling his kingdom and had found her waiting for him. He got out of the car.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  He stood up to his full height and looked down on her. He lifted her chin with his knuckle, and just that one point of contact covered her in goose bumps. She’d selected her highest heels for the evening, but her head still tilted back for Beau.

  “Thank you for dressing the part tonight,” he said. “Though you were stunning in old jeans, something this beautiful finally does you justice.”

  He was sincere. The compliments he paid her never seemed to serve as a means to get something, even a reaction. It made her uncharacteristically weak in the knees.

  “Any credit goes to the dress,” she said. “Thank you for sending it.”

  Neither of them looked away. There were memories in the way they took from each other’s eyes. For Lola, it was the way she fit into his arms as they fell asleep. It was the way he fucked her like he owned her.

  “Let’s go inside.”

  She took an automatic step back, blinking everything between them away. “Inside?” she asked, touching her chin where he’d just touched her. “What?”

  “I’d like to see your place.”

  “No.”

  “No?” His tone was reminder enough that no matter what moments they’d had, he was in charge.

  She panicked and blurted the first thing that came to her. “We can’t. Johnny’s home.”

  “I don’t believe you. Last time he watched from the window.”

  She hadn’t known that. She glanced over her shoulder. “Well, okay, you’re right—he’s…he’s at work, but—”

  “He didn’t stay to see you off?” Beau asked, tilting his head.

  “We decided it was better this way. The whole emotional goodbye thing was hard last time.”

  “So then it shouldn’t be a problem. If you don’t want him to know, don’t tell him.” He took a step, but she moved into his path.

  “Why?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “I want a glimpse into your life. It will help complete the picture in my head.”

  Her apartment was the last piece of her and Johnny Beau hadn’t infiltrated. It was Johnny’s kingdom, but she worried Beau would make it his the moment he walked in. “I’m not comfortable with that.”

  Beau made a point of turning and squinting at the sky behind him. It was still light out, but the sun was gone. He looked back
at Lola. “Should we review the terms of our agreement?”

  Sweat coated her upper lip. She licked it away. “No. That won’t be necessary.”

  He inclined forward as if to kiss her and stopped. He’d taken his time the first night to make sure she was comfortable, but they were past that now. Did he need an invitation? She resisted the urge to lick her lips a second time.

  He turned away to take something from the car and close the door. “Go ahead, ma chatte. Lead the way.”

  She went back the way she’d just come, Beau close behind her. Despite her wariness of his request, her body thrummed being with him again. She jiggled the key a few times until the lock gave and cleared her throat. “It’s stubborn.”

  Beau walked into the apartment with one hand in his pocket. Under his arm was a medium-sized package wrapped in brown craft paper. Another present? It was uncomfortable, him spending money on her when he’d paid so much for one evening. He’d already given her the dress, and whatever plans they had tonight that warranted such a gown wouldn’t come cheap.

  He glanced up at the ceiling, then at a pillow on the couch. Johnny’d slept there the night before since he’d been unusually restless and hadn’t wanted to keep Lola awake. Beau wandered across the room and looked down the hallway toward their bedroom.

  “I wasn’t expecting company,” Lola said, picking up Johnny’s dishes from the coffee table. She carried them to the sink.

  Beau found her in the kitchen. “I like seeing people in their natural states. Don’t clean on my account.” He walked to the fridge and pulled a photo from under a magnet. “Camping?”

  “In Yosemite.”

  He studied Johnny and Lola’s smiling faces. “You have freckles.”

  “They’re more noticeable when I get sun.”

  “You look young,” he said. “And happy.”

  “We were.”

  He looked up at her with one eyebrow arched.

  “Young, I mean,” she said. “We were young. We’re still happy.”

  His thumb pressed into the corner, sending a wrinkle through the center. He dumped the package heavily on the kitchen counter. “That’s the first half of the money. I brought it in cash this time to avoid unwanted attention.”