by Anne Oliver
‘I have to say, your weekday Breakfast Show is markedly better than it used to be when Jez was presenting.’ He leaned in conspiratorially. ‘The guy’s a good businessman, but he’s a little parochial when it comes to DJing. Better to leave the presenting to the talent, I say.’ He gave Lula a knowing wink.
She smiled pleasantly but didn’t say anything back.
Tristan jumped in quickly and pressed the guy to talk more about his needs—hyper-aware that they had to grab any lead they could right now.
He chatted for a while to the guy and managed to arrange for him to come to the station the following week and have a chat about buying some targeted airtime.
After he moved on, Tristan turned back to Lula to give her a furtive high-five, but she was staring round the bar as if in a daze.
‘Lula? You okay?’
‘I’m just going to the bathroom,’ she said, giving him a firm smile.
‘Again?’ He pinched his brows together in concern. Was she ill? When he looked carefully he realised she did seem a bit paler than usual.
‘What, is there a limit on bathroom breaks or something?’ she said, jokily, although the wild look in her eyes told him to back off. He didn’t want to though, not until he was sure she was okay.
‘No, of course not.’ He was concerned to see she was trembling. ‘I’ll come with you,’ he said, gesturing out of the bar.
She twitched her eyebrow into an expression that said Why would you want to visit the ladies’ toilet with me?
‘Not to the bathroom,’ he clarified with a grin. ‘Just out of here.’
* * *
Lula walked quickly out of the bar with Tristan hot on her heels.
She needed some head space, away from all these people. It was great they all seemed to want to talk to her, but her reserves for intelligent banter were quickly depleting and she could only stand there mute for so long, allowing Tristan to lead the conversation, before it began to look like she wasn’t making an effort.
And it wasn’t just the fact she felt she was making a mess of selling herself and the station, but that she was doing it standing next to a man who only had to glance her way to turn her brain to jelly. She was finding it virtually impossible to concentrate without being distracted by Tristan’s intoxicating scent and the sexual magnetism that seemed to roll off him in waves.
Her body actually felt feverish with arousal.
She must be coming across as a real idiot tonight and she really didn’t want him to think badly of her.
She made her way down the corridor towards the bathrooms with Tristan one step behind, her body burning with awareness of his presence in the cool quiet.
‘See you in a sec,’ she said, pushing the door open and striding inside before he could answer her.
Pressing her forehead against the cold glass of the full-length mirror next to the sinks, she took some deep breaths, willing her mind to clear and her heart-rate to slow down.
This was torture. Added to the strain of dealing with being around Tristan, the event itself was bringing back memories of the awful parties her parents used to hold where she was expected to circulate, making witty, intelligent conversation with their friends, when all she wanted to do was run away and hide. She used to feel physically sick before them—and sometimes tried to convince her parents that she actually was ill. They never let her off them though. Apparently they thought it was imperative for her to learn how to act in polite company. She’d never been able to get it right, always managing to say the wrong thing to someone and chastising herself for days, or sometimes weeks, afterwards.
This networking thing was bringing back all those old feelings of insecurity she’d fought to get past.
‘Are you okay? You looked like you were about to pass out in there,’ he said as soon as she exited the bathrooms and found him leaning against the wall, waiting for her.
‘I’m fine.’
He put a hand on her arm to stop her walking past him and as she turned to face him, he gave her a puzzled look. ‘Are you sure?’
His concern seemed to make everything so much worse. She threw up her hands, humiliation making her face burn. ‘What do you want from me, Tristan? I said I’m okay. Let’s just get back in there and get this thing over with.’
He gave her a puzzled grimace. ‘You make it sound like a trial.’
Her gaze slid away from his. ‘Well, it is a bit, isn’t it? Having to make small talk with all those people, hoping they’ll throw some benevolence our way. It just makes me uncomfortable, that’s all.’
‘I would have thought you’d enjoy being lauded as one of the brightest and best presenters in the land.’
She looked directly at him now. ‘Yeah, well, you don’t know me, do you?’
Damn him. Even the crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he frowned were sexy.
‘Lula, what’s going on?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean why are you acting like I’ve killed your kitten? I know things have been awkward between us, but I don’t think I deserve this sort of treatment.’
Her shoulders slumped as all the misplaced anger rushed out of her. He had a point, she was taking out her frustration on him and it wasn’t fair. In fact it was downright unprofessional.
‘You’re right. I’m sorry.’
They heard voices coming from the other end of the corridor and she straightened her posture, steeling herself for making more polite conversation.
Tristan tore his troubled gaze away from her to scan the corridor.
‘Quick, let’s nip in here.’ He strode forwards a couple paces and pulled open a door to their right, ushering her in.
She caught the flash of grim determination on his face before he closed the door behind them, leaving them standing in the dark.
‘Tristan, we’re in a broom cupboard.’
‘Yeah, I know, but at least no one will think to look for us in here.’
She couldn’t help but giggle. ‘They wouldn’t be able to see us even if they did—it’s pitch black.’
‘There must be a light switch around here somewhere.’
She felt him bump into her as he groped around the walls.
‘Ouch! That was my toe!’ she said, as one of his feet landed on hers.
‘Sorry.’
He didn’t sound sorry. He sounded amused.
‘It’s no good, I can’t find it.’ The gentle rush of words right next to her ear made her realise he was standing right in front of her, only inches away.
Her heart thumped hard against her ribcage and her whole body tingled with awareness at his close proximity.
‘We probably don’t need light anyway. Considering you’ve barely looked at me tonight it’s not going to make a lot of difference.’ His voice was light, but she detected a twang of indignation, which made her stomach dip with guilt. ‘Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?’ he said earnestly now.
There was nothing for it, she was going to have to lay everything on the line; they couldn’t carry on like this, pretending everything was just fine and dandy.
She took a deep breath. ‘To be honest, Tristan, I’ve been worried about keeping up the “Hotshot Tallulah Lazenby” act here. I didn’t want to let you and the station down.’
‘What are you talking about?’ He sounded utterly confused.
Despite the humiliation burning up her neck to her face she kept going, wanting to get it all out before she lost her nerve.
‘The thing is, the Lula you think you know doesn’t exist. I’m nothing like my on-air personality. The “me” that you saw that night in your hotel room was a fabrication. I was playing a game, pretending to be the person I project for the radio. And once I’d started playing that part for you I felt like I couldn’t drop th
e act in case you changed your mind about giving me the Breakfast Show. I’m just not like that. I’m shy. I like reading and quiet nights in and hiding in a crowd instead of being the centre of attention.’
There was a pause, then he sighed and the air around them moved as if he’d adjusted his position
An intense longing for him to touch her twisted her insides.
‘I’m sorry I asked to you come to this awful thing,’ he murmured. ‘I didn’t realise you hated networking so much.’ He was standing so close now she could feel the heat radiating from him.
She pulled a face then chuckled, realising he couldn’t see her. She was glad he hadn’t found the light switch though, it was amazing how much easier it was to talk about this in the dark.
‘It’s okay. It’s my problem. I’ve always been shy. I was the quiet kid at school who never raised her hand or spoke out, but it got to the point where I felt so invisible I realised I had to do something about it. So now I pretend to be confident and vivacious and somehow it works and everyone believes me. I still get terrified during social situations though. I’m afraid I’ll have one of my brain freeze moments where I’m totally lost for words and end up staring at the person I’m talking to with a gormless look on my face. Do you ever get that?’
He laughed quietly. ‘Nope. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m the sort of person you can’t shut up at these things. I guess you’re an off the scale introvert to my off the scale extrovert.’ The warmth of his tone penetrated the darkness.
Her heart beat faster as his words sunk in. ‘Is that what you think it is? Introversion?’
He moved again and her insides dipped with disappointment when she realised he must have leant back against the wall opposite her because his voice sounded a bit further away when he spoke. ‘Yeah, that would be my layman’s diagnosis. I had a psychologist come into the business when some of the staff weren’t getting on well together and she explained how an extrovert needs to socialise and have people around them to recharge and an introvert needs alone time and quiet. Just like you do after your show. You hide away while the rest of the team—the extroverts—ride the buzz of performing together. The brain freeze thing is synonymous with introversion too. It’s not a bad thing to be an introvert, in fact a business needs a few deep thinkers, you just naturally deal with situations in a more measured way.’
‘Huh.’ She never considered her need to retreat and hide after a show or party was so normal it had a name. She’d thought it was crippling shyness or an inability to deal with the pressure of performing. Something negative, anyway.
‘I just assumed I was shy because my parents always told me I was. They found it really difficult having a daughter with limited social skills when they were both so gregarious. They ended up speaking for me most of the time to breach the awkward silences.’
‘And look at you now, presenting the toughest show at one of the best radio stations in London.’
She huffed out a laugh. ‘Yeah, I’m not quite sure how that happened.’
‘Through sheer hard work and determination.’ From the tone of his voice she could tell he was impressed by the success she’d made for herself. Her face glowed with gratified heat this time and once again she was grateful for the darkness.
‘Yeah, well...I did a Media degree but I never expected to like DJing so much. I always assumed I’d do something behind the scenes, but it helped me find my voice. I love the anonymity of radio and I guess I use that as a bit of a crutch.’
His presence, so close yet still not touching her, made the air around them throb with tension. She felt she could probably reach out and grab hold of it if she wanted.
‘You know, I’m really touched you agreed to come with me, considering you find this kind of event so tough.’ He took a breath. ‘I actually thought you were reluctant to come because you didn’t want to be here with me after what I told you about my family...and things,’ he said, his voice gruff and low, as if he was experiencing the exact same edgy tension in the atmosphere that she was.
‘No. That really wasn’t the reason.’ The words caught in her mouth as she felt him move closer again and his heat and delectable scent washed over her. ‘I came because you needed me.’
She realised as the words left her mouth that that was why she was here. She wanted the station to succeed, of course she did, but she also wanted to help Tristan in any way she could. Because she liked him.
Maybe more than liked.
There was a loaded pause before he responded. ‘I did need you.’ A breath. ‘I do.’
The air seemed to crackle and the next second his hands found her face and slid along her jaw, drawing her towards him, and then his mouth was on hers, hot and firm and oh, so welcome.
He was kissing her like he couldn’t get enough of her, running his hands possessively down her throat to skim over her shoulders and down over the swell of her breasts, his thumbs catching on her suddenly erect nipples which pushed against the tight-fitting dress she’d worn for him.
‘Tristan—’ she muttered against his mouth.
He drew back enough to let her speak.
‘What are we doing? This is crazy.’
His hands tightened around her waist and he pulled her hard against him so she could feel how turned on he was.
‘I know. I know.’ His voice was guttural, strained.
He dropped kisses along her jawline, sending great twists of erotic sensation through her whole body. ‘Don’t think,’ he murmured, the vibration of his words tickling and teasing the hypersensitive skin of her neck as he moved lower. ‘Just do.’
She moaned low in her throat, suddenly totally unable to remember why she shouldn’t be doing this with him. It felt so right. So good.
Sliding her hands up from his body, she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him hard and covetously, her tongue sliding firmly against his, the untameable response making her whole body throb with need.
He slammed against her, forcing her back against the wall, sending what sounded like brooms crashing to the floor.
The mood changed in the space of a second.
This wasn’t playful any more; it was hot and heavy and serious.
Inevitable.
It was what she wanted. What she’d needed since he was last inside her.
In a shocking moment of clarity she realised that this was always going to happen.
She’d been kidding herself this whole time.
EIGHT
Tristan groaned with relief as Lula wrenched his trousers open and slid a hot hand down his stomach and into his boxers, freeing him from the confines of his clothes. He was hard and so ready for her touch as she ran her fingers possessively over him.
He’d been dying to drag her away and keep her all to himself all evening and when she’d told him she was here for him he’d totally lost his grip on control.
He’d needed to hear that. That he wasn’t on his own. That someone else cared about him. That she cared about him.
This growing need for her had been driving him crazy for the last couple of weeks and all his frustration came flooding out as he pressed himself into her, kissing her so hard he worried for a second he might be hurting her.
Drawing back, he cupped her face again and felt her ragged breath on his skin.
‘Don’t stop,’ she murmured, in that taunting, husky voice of hers.
He was lost. Totally and utterly gone.
Dropping his hands from her face, he found the hem of her dress and pushed it roughly up her body then located the top of her skimpy knickers, which he skimmed down her legs, exposing her fully to his roving fingers.
She let out a gasp of pleasure as he pressed his index finger between her folds, catching the swollen nub of her clitoris with his fingertip and stroking her there for a few beats,
before sliding it into her slick waiting heat.
His body gave a throb of pleasure as he realised she was as ready for this as he was.
And this was no time for finesse; he just needed to be inside her.
Right now.
‘Please tell me you have a condom,’ she muttered.
He stilled as the terrible truth hit him.
He didn’t have one on him.
‘I was hoping you might have brought some. Maybe hidden them about your person?’ he said, his voice ragged with hope.
Despite the intensity of the moment she giggled. ‘In this dress? I can barely fit my body into it.’
He groaned, low in his throat. ‘I noticed. And stop talking about your body, I’m going crazy here.’
She laughed again, and he felt the tremor of the movement against his other hand, which was pressed to the bottom of her ribcage.
Leaning his forehead against hers, he slipped his hands away from her and she moaned in protest.
‘Let’s get out of here and go back to my apartment,’ he said, taking a step backwards so he could stoop down and locate her knickers on the floor.
Don’t say no, Lula, please don’t say no.
‘Okay.’ Her voice was firm and true and he felt a surge of joy that her urge to carry this on hadn’t been destroyed by the coitus interruptus.
‘Can I have my knickers back?’ she asked breathily.
‘Nope. I’m keeping these,’ he said, stuffing them into his pocket. He had no intention of letting her cover herself up again. He wanted to keep her pressed right up to the cliff-edge of desire, to tease her like she’d been unknowingly teasing him all evening.
There was a pause, then a gentle snort of amusement and he felt the air move as she pulled down her dress.
After quickly doing up his own clothes, he managed to locate the door handle and opened the door, squinting into the bright light of the deserted corridor.
‘The coast’s clear,’ he said, turning back to give her a grin. He felt like a naughty schoolkid.