“I bet you still moon over his photograph and dream of those masculine leaps of his.”
Jane chucked the stack of glossy papers on the sofa and threw her arms around Louisa, squeezing her. “You know me so well. Oh, how I’ve missed you.”
“Jane?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry I haven’t been a good friend to you. It felt weird calling you, thinking Al might be listening.”
“He was that wacko?”
Louisa nodded. “Because of him, I haven’t been in touch with anyone for a long while.”
“Well, if he shows his face here, I’ll sort him out.” Her friend let out a Miss Piggy style attack sound. “Show him what for.”
“You’ll show him what for, huh?”
Jane pulled back a touch and laughed before hugging her tighter still. “I’m so glad you’re home now, even if it’s just for a little while.”
“I don’t think I want to go back,” Louisa blurted. “I can’t believe I let Al play me like a damned puppet.” Relief coursed through her as she spilled the darkest secrets she’d held close to her heart for so long. “He was never there for me emotionally. And hell, I don’t even enjoy performing anymore. I have no joy in my life anymore, Jane.”
“It’s okay.” Jane patted her shoulder. “You can stay here as long as you like.”
Tears pooled in Louisa’s eyes. She nuzzled into Jane’s soft sweater and released the sobs she’d held in for weeks—months even. “Never going back. Never.” She sniffled.
“Oh, sweetie.” Jane ended the embrace then glided across her flashy home—high ceilings and bare brick walls—and parked on a barstool. “Let’s get down to the nitty-gritty stuff. Been bloody worried about you. What the hell has been happening over the last four months? Give me the dirt.”
“Long story.”
“Pull up a chair and tell me everything. Last I heard, you’d broken up with Al, got back with him, and then broke up with him again.”
“Cliff notes version?”
“No, full whack on high speed. Give it to me straight.” She pointed to her drink. “You want another?”
Louisa nodded. “Al wanted to yank my principle position from under my feet and give it to his new bit of stuff when I dumped him for the last time. With all the crap he’d given me, I finally snapped and saw him for what he was.”
“And why didn’t you tell me this, I might have been able to help?”
“I couldn’t phone, I think Al had it bugged or something. He always knew where I’d be, and the last thing I wanted was to drag you into my mess.”
“You should probably ditch it, get a new one.”
She nodded. “Already done. I don’t know how the hell Al managed to track me. I’m done with him choreographing my life. No more. He doesn’t have the new number, so he can’t bug me about coming back to the company. I’m a free agent, so to speak.”
“Thank goodness you finally saw through his possessive, albeit cute, arse. Honey, how long did you put up with him? Ten years?” Jane dashed around the breakfast bar.
Louisa nodded. “Yes, pretty much. Ten long years. I’m a sucker for a man in tights who knows how to take charge. And boy, could he spin me with his dreamy Italian accent and flashy spending habits. Now, he gives me the shivers. And not in a good way.” Louisa parked herself on a barstool and leaned on the counter, the granite surface cold against her arms. The harsh reality sank in. She had let Al abuse and control her because she was greedy for fame, and she’d enjoyed Al’s attention at first. “I’m to blame for the mess of my life. After all, I’d planned on using Al to get to the top of the company, and his attention flattered me. I got my just deserts.”
“Thank goodness you reported him to the police. Crazy dude stealing your money. I’m curious to find out how he managed that.” Jane whipped up a fresh batch of pink frosting and piped sugary goodness over the little treats. “I know what you need.”
“A winning lottery ticket?”
“That would be nice,” Jane said. “But, no.”
“A supernatural ability to spot the good-for-nothing men from the ones who actually give a damn about other people besides themselves?”
“No.”
“A bodyguard? A Clue? A Chris Hemsworth look-a-like?”
“Nope. Though I’ll take the last suggestion if you have one going. No, what you need is to dance.”
“At The Doll House, I’m guessing?”
Jane beamed. “Hell, yes. Even if it’s a short-term thing. Say you open on Friday to give you a few days to learn a routine. You could earn up to three hundred quid depending on how many seats are filled, maybe even get a regular gig out of it. And you can stay here until you’re on your feet.”
“There’s one problem. I can’t striptease. You saw me. And when I’m on that stage, all I can think about is Al and the control he had over me.
“I was consumed by dance, I guess. Life off the stage kinda sucked, so nothing else mattered after the performances and post-show parties. Nothing else needed to matter.” Louisa paused, debating how much disclosure she needed to give. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I think I’m done performing. So done.”
“Well, you’re here.” Jane handed her an espresso and another fairy cake. “And that’s worth celebrating. So, cheers.”
“Cheers.” She tapped cakes with Jane then took a huge bite. “You must be doing okay to afford all this swanky stuff. I swear you nabbed a window display from that Swedish furniture store.”
“Told you, The Doll House pays well. And Dennis helps out a lot. He moved in three months back when he left his fiancée, and he paid for the renovations and did all this while I stayed at the old place until he’d finished. Said he had to spend the money or she’d get her mitts on it. Plus, he needed a place to stay and something to do. Who was I to complain?” She snorted. “Remember how much we loved that old dump of a place we shared?”
She nodded. “I went by there earlier. It’s how I found him. So, what’s his ex-fiancée like? What’s her name, Bianca?”
“An artsty-fartsy drama teacher at the university. Lovely woman, but turned a bit nuts when he dumped her on the way to the wedding cake tasting session. After that, she claimed he owed her his life savings to pay for the wedding arrangements. Arrangements he’d already friggin’ paid for. Cheeky cow.”
“So he is single? There’s definitely no one else? And the marriage is definitely off?” Louisa fought hard not to let out a cheer, to air any indication she thought of Dennis in any way except as a friend because she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that. For him. She was fresh from a breakup, and her career drowning in a puddle of mud. And his kiss. Oh, his kiss. Besides, he’d clearly stated he didn’t want the distraction.
“There’s always someone else with him.”
Her heart sank. “That Sally Sweetheart woman from last night?”
“The other woman has always been you, sweetie. I thought you knew that.”
Louisa’s knees turned to jelly. She crossed her ankles and took a calming breath before asking, “Can’t be true. I wasn’t even around when he broke up with Bianca.”
“Dennis is pretty darn private with feelings. All I know is that he did seem happy with her until it ended suddenly. Told her in the middle of the tube station. Crazy, huh? He screamed it at the top of his lungs over the lunch hour rush. What a jerk.”
“Poor guy. Was this long ago?” That woman must have hurt him really badly to drive him to such cold measures.
“He did his ditch-the-bride-before-the-altar thing in February.”
“Three months ago? When I performed at Covent Gardens? That’s when I ended things with Al.”
“Christ, Louisa, you must have been going through hell to not tell me you were in London. I’d have loved to see you dance again…and be there for break-up margaritas and cupcakes.”
“I wanted to get in touch, but I thought it best not to, considering what was going on. Stupid ballet, it’s ruined so much
for me. It gave me stability and focus so I was clueless that my life was going to the gutters elsewhere. It’s time I grow up. I’m ready to live my life and not hide behind costumes, makeup, and someone else’s directions, or hang off the need for adoration.”
“Perhaps now that you’re thinking outside the dance box, you and Dennis will hit it off? Always thought you’d make a cute couple.” Jane poured another coffee. “But don’t ever take him for cake. I hear he doesn’t like it, makes him call weddings off.”
Louisa laughed. “I love dessert, so we wouldn’t last the week.” She shoved a cake in her mouth and got icing over her upper lip and nose. “Besides, he’s made it pretty darn clear he isn’t interested in me that way.”
“Hardly. The guy is besotted with you. He’s just focused on work. Too focused on work if you ask me.”
“And you think I’m just the woman to get him de-stressed?”
“I think so, yes.”
The apartment door flew open. Dennis strolled in, a sweater slung over his shoulders, the top two buttons of his polo shirt undone. He fussed with his thick hair flopping over his square-framed glasses. “Damned figures and widgets.” He rubbed at his temple and cringed. “Pour me a coffee, Sis. Gonna need it to get through the day.”
“Morning class rough?” Jane winked toward her. “Did one of your students bring cake for the teacher?”
“Ha, bloody, ha.” He yanked his specs off and rubbed his eyes before glancing toward Louisa. Fine with a capital take-me-now, he’d grown into his wide shoulders and long legs. And his muscles. Biceps strained the material of his sleeves, six-pack curved out his shirt. He puffed, the breeze sending his wayward fringe back into place. She caught herself gasping and slammed her lips tight together. She locked her gaze with his, the pull to ravish him itching at her, sending goose bumps prickling over her arms and the back of her neck. Made her fidget, crossing and uncrossing her legs. He cleared his throat and tugged on his collar. The things she’d like to do to him....
“Morning, Lola.” Her suitcase stored behind the sofa caught his attention, and his mouth curled a little to the left. His lopsided smile made her shiver. She sucked in a breath and focused on his faint dimple. “So I didn’t dream it, you are here to stay?”
“No, she’s here on holiday,” Jane mocked, pouring him a coffee. Louisa jabbed her in the arm and shot her daggers. Jane shrugged and grinned. Still the same old shit-stirrer.
“Quit picking on me, Sis.”
Heat prickled over Louisa’s cheeks and spread to her neck and down to her chest. She glanced away and exhaled.
“Ah-hem.” Jane handed her the coffee. “Give this to Dennis, would you?”
She passed him the mug, and his hand brushed hers. The touch of his warm skin against hers sent shivers down to the tips of her toes.
“You’ve got icing on your nose.” He wiped the frosting away then licked it off his digits. “Hmm, sweet Lola.”
If she ever did dance at The Doll House, Lola would be her stage name. It seemed like a name belonging to a confident woman, one at peace with herself. The woman she wanted to become.
“Sleep okay?”
She nodded then turned her attention to her own drink and took a swig. The bitter dark roast re-burst the warmth hugging her throat and chest. “The spare room is fine.”
“And I bet Jane has already tried roping you into a spot in her show. Was only just saying yesterday how the owner of The Doll House is looking for talented new girls.”
“Anything but striptease.” She pointed her index finger at each of them and scowled. “You two are ganging up on me.”
“And with that,” Jane said, “I must go get my show gear organized and bagged for tonight. Back in a tick.” She squeezed Louisa with a quick bear hug and slinked into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. From behind the wood, she hollered, “I need someone to cover my spot on Friday because I’ve got a date. I haven’t had a date in months. I wonder if Sweetheart will do it?”
“Well, I’m not stripping down to pasties in public,” Louisa replied. But how else was a girl like her—uneducated except in the ways of dance—supposed to raise cash in a hurry? “Maybe there’s some bar work going at The Doll House? It can’t be much different from serving colas and lemonades at Coffee ’n Cream.”
“Jane hasn’t been on a date in,” he counted on his fingers, “seven months.” He wiggled his hips, pivoted, and winked. “If I can burlesque, surely a famous ballet dancer like yourself can handle it. I know Jane would appreciate it.” He leaned in close, warmth from his breath stroking her lips. She closed her eyes and waited, hoping he’d kiss her and everything would be A-okay again. “Burlesque isn’t stripping, it’s dance, it’s an art form,” he whispered. “And if anyone knows about teasing, it’s you. You were made for burlesque.”
She opened her eyelids, her breath caught.
“I want to kiss you again,” he said, his tone deep and all kinds of grr.
Do it. Kiss me.
“But—”
“But isn’t a word. It’s not in my vocabulary, at least not right now it isn’t.” She wrapped her arms around to his nape and hooked her legs around his waist. Before he could protest, she leaned in and brushed her mouth over his neck. Delicate. Testing. He moaned, his breath warm against her soft flesh. The vibrations sank to her center and her toes curled.
“Lola,” he rasped as almost a whisper.
She moved her kisses to his jawline and then his cheek, his bristles scraping and tickling her lips. “You taste like cake and frosting. Hmm, sweet.”
He cupped her face and pressed his mouth to hers, edged his way inside with his velvet-smooth tongue and explored her. Overwhelming need enveloped her, swallowed her whole. Light-headed, heart throttling, her sex aching, she needed him. Now.
She succumbed to his masculinity, let him lead the way. The loss of control scared the hell out of her, but also sent her to the edge of ecstasy. She trusted him. No doubt about it. She’d trust him with her life, with her everything. Reveling in the intimate embrace, she pressed closer into him. His hardened length rubbed against her and teased her already tingling mound.
“I need you so,” she murmured. “If only our clothes weren’t in the way.”
He leaned back, his breathing heavy and his sight set to the ground. “We shouldn’t do this.”
“Shush.” She grabbed his muscular arse and pulled him against her. “There’s no reason why we can’t.”
He grabbed her shoulders and held her away. “I’m scared I’m your crutch while you get over Al. And I’m worried you’ll hurt me again.”
“I made the mistake of letting you go once. Trust me, I won’t be doing that again.”
“I can’t afford to lose my sanity, not now. I’m so close to my dream job I can almost taste it.”
“Let me prove how much you mean to me.” More than ever, she wished to strip and entwine around him. “Let me be there for you, be your support…be your love.”
“I’m sorry. I’m not ready to trust this. Us. Not yet. But I want to. Really, I do.”
“Then we’ll slow down, whatever it takes.”
“Take it slow. Now there’s an idea.” He peeled himself off her, grabbed his briefcase, and fled from the flat.
“Me and my big gob.” Sticking her finger atop a nearby cake, she scooped up icing and licked her digit clean. The sweet treat hardly satisfied the need throbbing in her sex. “Now what’s a girl to do?”
Chapter Six
Daydreaming of her, that’s how Dennis had spent the day. He’d paced through several lectures, chewed through his pencil, and zoned out during a video chat meeting with Torquay’s board of education and town mayor to finalize his interview for the Principal position. He could only hope no one had noticed his lack of focus.
At dinner, he poked at his sister’s homemade lasagna as she chatted with Lola. They went on about burlesque, and the new guy Jane dated, seemingly ignoring Dennis’s existence.
&
nbsp; He wanted to strut to Lola, fireman-lift her to his bed, and kiss her rosy lips. To brush his hands over her perfect apricot skin and have her writhe beneath him. The erotic fantasy drove him to the brink of insanity.
Restraint proving harder than ever, he growled and clenched his hands.
He excused himself from the table and fled to the compact en-suite attached to the room he’d been staying in since leaving Bianca. He flicked the sink tap on and splashed cool liquid over his face. The refreshing blast didn’t lull his need as he’d hoped, so he repeated the action. Still no relief. He grasped the porcelain sink’s rim, his arms flexed hard and his jaw clasped tight. Visions of Lola had permanently lodged in his mind. The same images that had haunted him through every waking moment of his life and had been the cause of many restless nights. Her soft and sweet kisses, how his hand tangled in her hair when he yanked her close, and how her expression soured as she skulked away from him. The way she chewed at her bottom lip, how curls framed her perfect heart-shaped face. And how she whispered “goodbye” to him in a sultry tone only she could produce.
Sounds of her cute giggles carried through the flat.
At this point, saying no to her proved more distracting than just giving in to his desires.
He patted himself dry with a hand towel and cursed.
There he was, sweating it, while she relaxed on the sofa, laughing. She didn’t run into his arms and beg for his attention, nor did she rush to apologize again for splitting him in two. Nothing. She hadn’t even asked about his day. Maybe she didn’t care for him, after all. Ouch.
Lola. Beautiful Lola. What had she done to him? Turned him into a quivering mess, that’s what.
Take it slow? Stupid suggestion.
An urge to march into the living room and demand that she share what raced through her mind jabbed at his nerves.
He strode to the door and grabbed the knob. Before twisting it open, he released his grip. He couldn’t do it; going full-on caveman in heat might blow his chances at a lasting relationship. If he was going to do this, he’d do it right. Rushing her seemed unfair in her delicate, breakup-fresh frame of mind.
What Lola Wants (London Dolls Book 1) Page 5
