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

by Jessica Hawkins

  Beau sighed. “Fine. A few hours. Whatever. Regardless, tonight isn’t an ending. It’s the start of a life we’ve both deserved for a long time.”

  “To that—exactly.” She clinked her wine with his, and they each took a sip. “Thank you for giving Warner the night off like I asked.”

  “I told you I’d let you plan your night. Brigitte needs the company anyway.”

  Lola raised her eyebrows. “He’s been spending a lot of time at her apartment.”

  “Someone has to, and it’s not going to be me. All my free time goes to someone else.”

  “Who?” Lola asked. “Because it isn’t me.”

  Beau cleared his throat. He couldn’t tell if she was joking. He understood that his schedule bothered her, but what he couldn’t comprehend was why. Every day he’d worked the past ten years—and every hour he worked now—was for her, even if he hadn’t known it. He went in early and he stayed late to give her more and more and more. “I do my best.”

  “Do you? She has a point about Warner, you know. If you’d ever sent him home to eat dinner with me because you couldn’t make it, I can tell you right now, it would not have gone over well.”

  Beau put his glass down. “What neither you nor Brigitte seems to get is that if I don’t give my job one-hundred-and-ten percent, there’d be no Warner. There’d be no five-thousand square foot house to come home to. No extra bedrooms for a family, no cinema or pool—”

  Lola shifted backward in her seat, her eyebrows needling together. “A family?”

  Beau maintained eye contact the way he would if he’d slipped up in a meeting. It wasn’t like children were at all prevalent in his day-to-day thoughts, but some abstract idea of a family had crossed his mind since Lola had moved in. He leaned his elbows on the table. “I’m making a point.”

  She looked at her lap. “Have I made you feel like I wouldn’t be happy without those things?”

  “Which things?”

  “A big house and a chauffeur. A closet full of expensive clothing.”

  He didn’t mean to glance at her new coat, but he did. She noticed. “I love the coat on you. I want to give you beautiful things.” He was uncomfortable, but she looked at ease. He never knew how to take it when she got angry with him for spending money on her. “Why don’t you take it off, show me your new dress? You don’t need a coat in here.”

  “There is no dress.”

  He looked at her a second longer, then back at the coat. No dress? One layer of fabric sat between him and heaven? “You mean…?”

  “Has anyone ever told you you’re good at changing the subject?”

  He pressed his lips together, jolted from the fantasy of what he’d find when he untied her belt, slipped each button open. He backtracked into the argument from the coat to beautiful things to her being possibly—unhappy?

  “Lola, it makes me feel good to give you that life. It’s a labor of love. Otherwise, what’ve I worked for all this time?”

  After another delicate sip of wine, she said, “You were fine before I came along.”

  “I was fine.” Beau nodded. He reached out, pulled her hand across the table, held it tightly in his. He’d mostly only seen her with nerves of steel, so her clammy palm felt foreign. She still wasn’t acting like herself. Perhaps he hadn’t given her the comfort she’d needed to do what she was about to do—open up to him again. “Now, I’m not fine. I’m so much more. I’m happy, Lola. Because of you. Because I—”

  Lola jerked her hand back and coughed into it. She cleared her throat a couple times and drank water, droplets falling onto the tablecloth. “I’m sorry. It’s the wine. It makes my throat dry.” She glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, look—our food.”

  The waiter set down Lola’s steak. Beau didn’t take his eyes off her, but she examined her plate so hard, he wondered if she was avoiding him.

  “Looks delicious,” she said. “This place had great reviews.”

  Beau opened his mouth to finish what he’d been about to say, but she took a bite. He’d be damned if he told her he loved her for the first time while she had a mouthful of tenderloin. He picked up his fork and knife and cut into his T-bone, deciding to wait until later when they were home in bed. He figured there was no better time to tell her than right before she made herself most vulnerable to him.

  He continued to watch her as he chewed. He did love her. It wasn’t easy for him to say, never really had been, which was why he’d been trying to tell her in other ways. He’d gotten her tickets to the ballet because she’d told him how she’d taken lessons all through her childhood. That, and it was another excuse to take her out, show her off.

  They ate silently. Beau didn’t mind. The less talking they did, the faster they’d finish and get home. It was all he could do not to rip the fork out of her hand and hurry her to the car.

  As soon as Beau had wiped his mouth with his napkin and dropped it on his plate, the waiter appeared. He must’ve sensed Beau’s animal need to get the fuck out of there.

  “Can I interest you in any dessert?”

  “We’re in a hurry.”

  “I’ll bring the check, and…?”

  Lola nodded up at him. He inclined his head and walked away. She took a compact mirror from her purse and reapplied her lipstick.

  “What was that with the waiter?” Beau asked.

  She ran the tip of her index finger along the corner of her mouth, wiped excess gloss on her napkin and shut the compact. “I have something for you.”

  “Give it to me at home.” Beau slid out his chair, stood and buttoned his suit jacket.

  She looked up, and a smile spread across her face. Now, she seemed the complete opposite of nervous. “What’s the rush?”

  “Weeks, Lola. It’s been weeks.” The waiter headed back toward them with something in his hand. “I’m dying here.”

  “Sit down, Beau. I promise you’ll like your gift.”

  He unbuttoned his jacket again, ran a hand through his hair and sat. Unless his gift was Lola spread eagle on the restaurant table, he doubted it was worth another few minutes of him not having sex. “All right. Where is it?”

  Lola’s cheeks turned pink. “It’s already here. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

  The waiter returned to the table and set the check in front of Beau. Next to it, he placed a flat, white box tied with a red ribbon.

  Beau tilted his head. “What’s this?”

  “Your gift.”

  “I thought it would be—” He stopped. He didn’t know what he’d thought, but he hadn’t expected it to come in a box. He looked up at her. “I can’t believe I didn’t think to get you anything.”

  “There’s no better gift you could give me than what will happen tonight. Please, open it.”

  Beau pulled one end of the bow, and the ribbon fell away. What could it be? He already had plenty of cologne, and an enviable collection of Montblanc pens. The box was the wrong shape for those things anyway. He listed in his head the things Brigitte or ex-girlfriends had bought him over the years—cufflinks, courtside basketball seats, a sterling silver money clip. He lifted the lid.

  It took a moment to register what he was looking at. He picked up a headband topped with a pair of jet-black, furry cat ears. Each one had a smaller pink triangle in the center. “What is this?”

  “It’s what I’m going to wear when I dance for you tonight.”

  Beau’s eyes jumped to hers. “Dance for me? Tonight?”

  She nodded. “We’ve been through a lot. I want to go back to where it all started.”

  “The only place we’re going is home.” Beau tossed the ears on the table and scribbled his signature on the check. He leaned across the table toward her but didn’t bother lowering his voice. “You think I’ll last two minutes watching you dance for me? You’ll be lucky if I don’t jump across this table and give this entire restaurant a show they’ll never forget. My patience is gone, Lola.”

  “Beau—”

  “Tomorr
ow, I’ll lounge on the couch all day long while you twirl around wearing whatever you want on your head. And I’ll love every minute of it. But right now, I’m going to fuck the living daylights out of you faster than you can say pussycat.”

  Lola leveled her eyes on him with a playfulness that hadn’t been there before. She ran her tongue along her bottom lip. “Pussycat.”

  Beau rose from his chair so quickly, it almost toppled over. “We’re leaving.”

  Lola also stood, quietly placing the cat ears back in the box and covering them with the lid. “Our date isn’t over. Like I said this morning, I’ve planned it all out.”

  “And I appreciate that.” Beau took Lola’s hand and walked away from the table, pulling her along. “You can tell me all about it on the way home.”

  He opened the door to the restaurant, ushered her out. One nod, and the valet took off down the sidewalk, remembering Beau and his car without prompting.

  Lola yanked her hand from his. He looked back at her as she clutched the box to her chest, her breasts rising and falling. “I didn’t wait this long just to have you ruin everything because you can’t wait a couple more hours,” she said, her face flushed, her words clipped. “Do you have any idea what tonight means to me?”

  “Yes. Of course I do.” Beau sighed and ran his hands over his face. “I’m going to take my time and appreciate you like I did before. I promise. But I’ve thought of nothing else since you told me tonight is the night, and I’m at the end of my rope here.”

  She approached him slowly, as if he truly might pounce. He opened his arms to show her he wasn’t angry. He wasn’t—just really goddamn horny.

  She walked into his embrace, looking down as she played with a button on his shirt. “You’ve been so patient, but I want to do this one, very special thing for you first. Just one more stop. Can you give me that?”

  He rubbed his hands up her back between her shoulder blades. The Lamborghini’s engine rumbled as it rounded the corner. “All right, pussycat. You have me in the palm of your hand, you know that? Where are you taking me for our last stop?”

  She blinked her almond-shaped blue eyes up to his, and her nose twitched. She looked remarkably feline in that moment. “I already told you. We’re going back to where it all began. We’re going to Cat Shoppe.”

  Chapter 44

  Beau wasn’t easy to catch off guard. The incredulous expression on his face excited Lola—she would’ve been disappointed by anything else. The Lamborghini’s growl, quiet but distinct, was the only sound. It idled at the curb where the restaurant’s valet had parked it.

  “We’re going where?” Beau asked finally, his arms loosening around her.

  “Cat Shoppe.”

  “You’re going to wear those,” he nodded at the box in her hand with the cat ears, “and dance for me?”

  Lola grinned. “Surprised?”

  “A little. Yes. That night you want to recreate wasn’t exactly our best moment.”

  “I don’t know,” Lola said softly, fixated on his shirt button, circling her fingertip over it. “You and I remember it different.”

  “We do?” His chest rose with his inhalation. “You never mentioned that.”

  She blinked her lashes up to him again. God, those green eyes, when he focused them on her—a tornado could hit, and she wouldn’t even notice. She stopped her fluttering and blinked hard, getting back on track.

  She wasn’t a liar at heart. With Beau, she’d been dealing words like cards from a deck, checking them close to her chest before setting them down. But this story? She didn’t need to edit or tweak it. It was all true.

  “A handsome stranger comes in to my shit job and demands to have me all to himself. We flirt. I brush against his leg on purpose, even though we could both get in trouble for that kind of thing.” Lola leaned in and nuzzled his Sandalwood-aftershave-scented neck. “While we talk, I think to myself—this is the first time in here I’ve ever wished a man was just a man. Not a customer. I wonder how I can even bring up the idea of leaving with him without it sounding bad.”

  He looked down at her. “Is any of that true, or are you just trying to get me to agree to go?”

  “Are you agreeing?”

  “I had no idea you felt that way.”

  He would’ve if he’d asked, but he hadn’t. She dropped her hand from his chest. “I did. I liked you. But I know that night was awful for you, and that’s why I want to replace it with this one. That’s your gift.”

  “I don’t want to replace that night. I loved everything about it right up until you turned me down.” Beau put his knuckle under her chin and ghosted his thumb across her bottom lip. “And we wouldn’t be here right now if it hadn’t happened.”

  Lola almost moved away from him—it never got easier, hearing him say the things she deserved to hear. But Beau was nothing if not observant when it came to her. One misstep, and he’d suspect something was wrong.

  He turned first, opening the Lamborghini’s passenger-side door for her. “Coming?”

  She stood in place a moment, collecting herself. His spell was strong tonight—or maybe she was getting nostalgic. She could call everything off, and he’d be none the wiser. Go home, give in to the love she’d been fighting, let him take from her what he wanted. And take, take, take, always without consequence.

  She got in the car. On their way to Cat Shoppe, he took her hand in his as he sometimes did when he drove. She doubted he even realized it. Like the time he’d found her in the Four Seasons lounge and wrapped her jaw in his hand. By his firm grip and unforgiving tone, he’d meant to be threatening, but he’d gently rubbed his thumb against her skin. As Beau’s guard lowered, his body language became easier to read every day.

  Lola glanced over at him. And every day he somehow got more handsome. Once or twice, at night, when he’d assumed she was asleep, she’d peeked at him poring over his laptop, sheets of paper all over the comforter. He’d said bringing his work to bed was a new thing for him, but either he did it there next to her or alone in his study. It was a sweet threesome—her, him and his mistress, the Bolt Ventures quarterly report.

  Then, in the morning, they’d wake up together, even if she wasn’t getting out of bed. Without fail, he’d lean over and whisper hotly in her ear, “Shower with me.” Lola knew better than that, though. She’d been strong so far, but she wasn’t made of steel.

  “What’s wrong?” Beau asked.

  Lola blinked several times, clearing the haze of her thoughts. “What?”

  He looked at her from the driver’s side. “You’ve been staring at me.”

  “Oh.” She sat back in her seat. “I was just thinking about how this is our last night like this.”

  “Like what?”

  Out the windshield, Hollywood’s bright lights blurred, stars pinholed the dark sky. She’d given so much thought to the details of their date that she hadn’t had time to consider the next morning. What would he do?

  “Never mind,” she said. “In case I forget, I did laundry today, but I didn’t get a chance to fold it. It’s in the dryer.” She picked at her fingernail. “And I moved the glasses and bowls back into their own cabinet.”

  “But you like them with their matching dishes.”

  “No, you were right. It makes more sense to sort them by type. It’s your kitchen, after all.”

  Beau laughed harmoniously, squeezed her hand and brought it to his lips. “Relax.” He pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles. “Don’t be nervous. You already know how this goes.”

  She tilted her head in his direction. “Do I?”

  “I’ll do the work. I already know every single thing I’m going to do to you tonight. You just get to enjoy the ride.”

  He looked back at the road, but she studied his profile. Once in a while, it took all her strength to remember how she’d gotten here. It’d been a dewy Friday morning before most of the city had been awake. He’d crushed her without mercy. He’d ripped away something she’d finally let he
rself have—hopes and dreams for an extraordinary future with him. He was beautiful, and she loved him, but the only thing that would ease the constant throb of her broken heart was his suffering.

  Lola was closing in on him. At the dinner table, she’d sensed he’d been about to tell her he loved her. It was the validation she’d been hoping for, but she’d interrupted him, suddenly terrified that if he said it, she wouldn’t be able to go through with tonight.

  She didn’t need to hear it anyway. She already knew he loved her—she just wanted him to know it too. If he didn’t, he would soon.

  “Enjoy the ride?” she whispered to herself. “I think I will.”

  Typical for a Friday night, Sunset Boulevard was clogged with traffic. It was a small detail that hadn’t crossed Lola’s mind, but as they crept down the street toward Cat Shoppe, then passed it, her spine lengthened.

  “What’re you doing?” she asked Beau.

  He flipped on his blinker, waiting for the cars in front of them to move. “Parking around back. There weren’t any spots on the street, and I don’t have the patience to wait for one.”

  Her throat went dry. The first time he’d brought her here, he’d slid into a front spot. That was how she’d envisioned this going, and it could pose a problem later. She craned her neck, praying for an open spot. “You don’t want to leave your car in back.”

  “Why not?”

  She adjusted her buttoned-up collar, already dampening with sweat. The air was cool, but it suddenly seemed fucking stupid to have worn a coat she couldn’t take off until they were alone. “Shady characters. There’s, like, no lights in the parking lot. A car like this won’t last five minutes.”

  He laughed as traffic opened up, allowing him to turn onto a side street that led to the back. “There’re lots of people out tonight. It’ll be fine.”

  She rubbed her hairline. If she pushed it, he’d ask her why it mattered to her. She’d just have to work around it.

  Beau pulled into a spot and shut off the car. They sat there for an unusually still moment, a dreamlike state, Lola still not sure she could pull this off. Maybe if she didn’t move, she wouldn’t have to. She shook her head quickly to shoo the ridiculous thought. This was what she’d wanted for weeks, and she wasn’t turning back now.