Once A Bad Girl

by Jane O'Reilly

  But she knew why. And who. Guilty Pleasures paid 200 quid for street shots of whoever was flavour of the month. Trying and failing to slot the books neatly back onto the shelf, Lottie gave up and dumped them on top, muttering a pathetic little apology. Her whole body felt numb. She could deny it, she thought desperately. Pretend she was someone else. Or she could just let them take their pictures. Or she could run away.

  She headed straight for the stairs, taking the hand rail with a white-knuckled grip. Is this what it was like for Josh? Was this how he lived his life? No wonder he’d behaved the way he had when she’d first met him, back at City Hall. Funny, really, she thought, how she’d barely given the auction a second thought over the past few weeks. Oh, she’d done the work, cataloguing and photographing everything, but at some point it had stopped being important.

  Four steps to go. Three. Two. She was nearly out of here, nearly away from the camera crazies. She could see the door, the stop-start movement of cars and buses outside, the fast and slow mix of pedestrians. She broke into a run.

  Then the world shot upwards. For a moment she felt nothing, then pain screamed into her shin. Her hands slapped the floor, and her bag jumped off her shoulder, spewing its contents all over the floor.

  A hand reached out, an offer of help, but she waved it away. Fantastic, thought Lottie, feeling slightly hysterical as she scooped everything up, every single pair of eyes boring into her, cutting holes in her skin. She didn’t rush. There was no point. Her hands shook as she tucked the strap of her bag back onto her shoulder and stood upright with as much dignity as she could muster.

  There was only one person she needed right now. Only one person she wanted. Normal? She didn’t even know what that was any more. She ran down the nearest side street, took out her phone and called four times in a row until he answered.

  Chapter Ten

  He found her skulking in the barbeque section in Selfridges, pretending to look at skewers, a large pair of dark glasses perched on her nose. She knew it was silly to wear them indoors, but it was either that or hide in the toilets.

  ‘Cute,’ he said, putting his index finger on the bridge and pulling them down so he could see her eyes.

  She narrowed them at him. ‘I got attacked in the book shop.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well, not attacked exactly. But I was just looking at books, minding my own business, and everyone started taking pictures of me.’

  ‘Naturally,’ he said, touching his thumb to her bottom lip. ‘You’re very photogenic.’

  ‘I’ve seen myself in a mirror,’ she sniffed. ‘Flattery will get you nowhere.’

  ‘Maybe nowhere is where I want to be.’

  ‘I fell down the stairs.’

  His arms were around her in an instant. ‘Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself? Let me see.’

  His hands started to roam over her, but she took his wrists and stopped him. She shoved her sunglasses back on top of her head. ‘Josh, what is this? What are we doing?’

  ‘Planning to cook al fresco?’ He moved away, parked himself in front of a huge, gas powered man grill.

  ‘The club is open,’ she reminded him. ‘And the auction is tomorrow. The place is going to be packed. We’ve already got bids on the books for pretty much everything. We’ve done what we set out to do.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘We don’t need to pretend anymore.’ So why had she called him? She could have called anyone. Her dad. Rachel. Any of the staff from the auction house. She could have gone to the tube station and gone home. She could have put on her big-girl pants and bought the books, then found herself the sensible suit she’d come here to buy. But instead, she’d rung Josh.

  ‘I haven’t been pretending for weeks,’ he said.

  ‘Then what have you been doing?’

  ‘Do you really want to have this conversation in the barbeque section of Selfridges, Lottie?’

  Lottie didn’t know. She felt like the floor was shifting under her feet and she couldn’t get her balance. She’d started to depend on him. To need him. ‘It wasn’t supposed to be like this.’

  And because she was upset, and he was her source of comfort as well as the cause of all her pain, she went to him.

  He set his hands to her upper arms and started to rub, a gentle, soothing motion. ‘I’ve been lonely a long time. I’m tired of it.’

  ‘But after the auction…’

  ‘You’re going to take a holiday. And we’re going to buy a barbeque and have a party.’

  ‘You still want to see me?’

  He shook his head. ‘For a smart woman you’re incredibly dense sometimes. Yes, I still want to see you.’

  Oh, she thought. Oh. Then he lowered his head and kissed her, and she couldn’t think at all.

  People had taken pictures of her. She’d gone to a bookshop, minding her own business, and people had taken pictures of her, and she’d fallen. He’d tolerated the other intrusions into her privacy, but this one cut him to the quick. He wanted to find whoever those people had been and deal with them personally, but he knew it was too late. The moment had passed. But the anger didn’t subside.

  Wrapping his arms around her, Josh held her against him, knowing how possessive and inappropriate he was being, and not giving a damn. In that moment, he’d never hated his life more. It was bad enough that Marlene’s fame had poisoned so much of his life. Now it was poisoning Lottie’s too, and that was wrong.

  But when she’d been scared, she’d called him. She needed him. He shoved away the thought that if she’d never met him in the first place she’d never have ended up in that situation, not wanting to go there. What they needed was a break, he decided. Some peace, away from all the madness.

  And he knew exactly where to find it.

  ‘That’s it. That’s the last lot.’ The auction had passed without a hitch. Ninety-seven lots, all sold, all for way over their estimated value. Scribbling down the last few totals, Lottie did a quick calculation and had to sit down. She nodded at the customers who were filing out of the sale room. Even the ones who hadn’t managed to secure anything had had a good time. The room was buzzing, and not just from the heavy smell of fresh paint.

  Josh stood by the podium, deep in conversation with her parents. She didn’t know where that friendship had sprung from, certainly hadn’t predicted it, but they definitely liked him.

  Things had turned out better than she had imagined. She wondered what things were going to be like, now that the auction was over and they didn’t need to parade their relationship to the press any more. Hopefully the paparazzi would leave them alone. Josh Blakemore with a girlfriend was of no interest to anyone, particularly when he’d picked an uninteresting girlfriend.

  Rachel slid in next to her. ‘You did good.’

  Lottie watched as her father patted Josh on the back. ‘I keep expecting to wake up and find out this is all some sort of insane dream. Only my imagination isn’t this powerful.’

  ‘We’ve had a couple of enquiries this morning asking whether we’re interested in hosting any more specialist sales.’

  ‘Could be a good angle for us,’ Lottie pondered. ‘The unique and the unusual. We’ve made so much on this we can be selective for a bit. I’ll run the idea past Dad, see what he thinks.’

  ‘No you won’t. You’re taking a week off.’

  ‘In a month or so, when everything is sorted!’

  ‘No,’ Rachel said firmly. She lifted one hand and gave the thumbs up sign. ‘You’re off duty. As of now.’

  ‘What? Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve got all the payments to deal with, and I’ve got to arrange delivery of everything.’

  ‘It’s all under control. Honestly, Lottie, we can manage without you for a few days.’

  Lottie was still trying to decide whether that was an insult or not when Josh came strolling over, his hands tucked into the trouser pockets of his suit. This one was black and super sharp, with a crisp white shirt and blue tie that matched his eyes. H
e looked so beautiful she found it hard to breathe.

  He’d said they weren’t over, but had he meant it? The auction was over now. Maybe he’d changed his mind. Maybe he’d said it just to get to this point without her causing another embarrassing scene in public.

  ‘All sorted?’ he asked Rachel, who took the notebook and pen out of Lottie’s hands.

  ‘Most definitely. Please take her away before she chains herself to her desk.’

  Lottie’s eyebrows shot up. ‘I am here, you know!’

  Josh stroked a finger across her cheek. ‘We know. Come on. We’ve got a train to catch.’

  ‘Okaaayyyyy,’ Lottie took in a little air. ‘Would someone like to tell me what’s going on?’

  ‘That’s my cue to leave,’ Rachel said. ‘Have fun! She gave Lottie a hug and Josh a wink, then strode off to the front of the room, settling herself in next to the woman who had bought Marlene’s entire collection of couture.

  ‘Right then, Charlotte Spencer. We’re leaving. Do you want to walk out, or do I have to put you over my shoulder and create another one of those public scenes you love so much?’

  ‘I’ll walk. I only do dramatic when there are cameras around.’

  ‘Trust me,’ he said, ‘there are always cameras around.’

  ‘Not always,’ she said, thinking of what they’d done last night, and this morning in the shower, and desperately hoping that was true. ‘So…so you’re not dumping me?’

  ‘We’ve been through this, Lottie. Why don’t you trust me?’

  ‘I do.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘I do. So come on. Let me in on the big surprise.’

  He grinned, leading her through the doors at the back of the auction room and down the stairs towards her office. ‘Good things come to those who wait.’

  ‘You better not be after kinky office sex,’ she warned him as he steered her down the stairs, his hands on her waist.

  ‘No! Well, yes. But no.’ He pushed her past her office, towards the end of the corridor and the fire exit.

  Lottie stepped aside so he could set one of those big shoulders to the door and shove it open. ‘I get it now. You’re after kinky alleyway sex.’

  ‘You know me too well.’

  ‘What is it they say about great minds?’

  ‘I think perhaps you mean dirty minds, and more specifically your dirty mind.’

  They tumbled out into the alleyway. Sunshine bathed everything, fresh and warm and new. Even the weeds sprouting up between the paving stones looked happy. ‘There’s nothing wrong with my mind. Where are we going?’

  ‘Give a bloke a chance, Lottie.’

  ‘A chance to what?’

  He cupped her face, tilted it up. ‘To do this.’ Then he covered her mouth with his. It was a determined kiss, a passionate kiss, an impatient kiss, as if he’d been waiting forever for it. His lips were firm, and he teased. Oh, how he teased. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘For sticking with this, even when you hated it. For putting up with the photographers and the people in the bookshop yesterday and the general crazy that is my life.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ she said, feeling a little overwhelmed. ‘It has been crazy though, hasn’t it?’

  He looked as if he wanted to say something else, then changed his mind. He took her hand, and pulled her to the end of the alley. There, double parked but fortunately not clamped, was a big, black four wheel drive so packed with testosterone she was surprised it didn’t growl.

  ‘I’ve got a place in France,’ he said. ‘It’s a bit in the middle of nowhere, I’m afraid. No nightclubs or gallery openings. I thought we could go there for a few days.’

  ‘Hot running water?’

  He nodded.

  ‘A bed?’

  ‘With white cotton sheets.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Lottie pretended to think about it. Then she spun round, opened the passenger door and jumped in. She stuck her head out. ‘What are you waiting for?’

  The next morning, Josh awoke to the sounds of running water and singing. Loud, happy singing. A gentle sense of peace settled over him. It was as if everything that had been wrong in his life didn’t matter anymore. His mother was still a drunk, yes, and the press would still hound him whenever they didn’t have anything better to do, but it all seemed bearable, somehow.

  Because Lottie was here, and he could lie in bed and think about nothing and know that she’d keep all his secrets locked up tight. Even if she was using up all the hot water.

  And the soap. Hot water. And soap. And that curvaceous body, and those luscious breasts. The bed creaked as he rolled off it. Lottie had squealed when she’d seen the bed, a baroque monstrosity that he’d kept only because it was massive and he liked plenty of room to stretch out.

  At least, he had liked plenty of room, before he’d discovered what it was like to have her curled up against him, warm and soft with her hair smelling faintly of coconut. She was so firmly in his life now he was having a hard time imagining her out of it.

  Imagining her naked wasn’t so difficult. Seeing her naked, well, that was as good as it got. Josh strolled over to the door that led into the ensuite and pushed it open.

  Steam billowed around him, dampening his skin. Lottie stood in the middle of the floor, a towel draped over her head. She was singing something about a man called Rico and a diamond as she rubbed her legs dry.

  Josh watched her for a moment. She was happy, he thought. And so was he. He liked it. He liked it a lot. ‘Morning,’ he said. He turned on the shower, and wondered if he could persuade her back under the spray. ‘You should have woken me up.’

  ‘Nah. You looked too pretty asleep.’

  ‘One thing I am not is pretty.’

  She flicked back her hair. ‘Beautiful, then. Stunning. Gorgeous.’

  Josh rubbed a hand through his hair. She’d got him blushing like a schoolgirl with a few silly words. He walked right up against her, kissed her shoulder. ‘You’re in a good mood.’

  ‘Of course I’m in a good mood!’ She bounced on her toes, squishing those luscious breasts up against him. ‘The auction was amazing, and I’m here with you.’

  ‘What do you really want, Lottie?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I know…you said the auction house was your brother’s thing. It was always supposed to be his. What about you? What do you want?’

  ‘I want a bit of you,’ she smiled up at him, grinding her hips against his. The softness of her belly rubbed against his groin. It was first thing in the morning. He didn’t need any more encouragement.

  But now he’d started down this path, he couldn’t stop. ‘You can’t get out of it that easily,’ he said, glancing across at the shower. No steam. He backed her towards it. Tiny droplets flew out and tickled his forearms, his hands, each one a little touch of icy cold. ‘So come on, confess. What was the dream?’

  ‘The auction house.’

  ‘You already told me you never wanted to work there. Tell me the truth.’

  ‘Or what?’

  Josh moved her back another couple of inches.

  Her legs stiffened, and she shrieked. ‘I had the crazy idea that it could be reinvented as some sort of jazz hall. You know, with tables set up in the main auction room, a stage in the corner with a singer and a band. Music lessons in the offices. An instrument shop in the storage area. I drew up a whole set of plans for it when I was 12. With colour and everything.’ She laughed, but her eyes crinkled in that way they did when she was sad. ‘You probably think that’s hilarious.’

  ‘I think it’s brilliant,’ Josh said. How could he have been so blind? He ran nightclubs, for god’s sake. And as a venue, it would be stunning. ‘Now, where were we?’

  ‘You were about to take a cold shower?’

  ‘I’ve got a better idea.’

  She slipped a hand between them and stroked him, base to tip. ‘So do I.’

  ‘I like the way your mind works, Miss Spencer.’

&n
bsp; They tumbled back into bed and spent the next hour making a lot of noise. And then Josh started to plan.

  Lottie kicked the pedal round, planted her left foot on top of it, and tried to remember how it went. She gripped the handlebars hard, teeth clenched. If a five year old could ride a bike, she could. Though how many five year olds had a bike as yummy as this, with its’ glittery purple paint, coloured spokes and flowery saddle? Just looking at it made the back of her throat feel strange. The skirt of her little cotton dress fluttered up in the breeze, but she was too busy trying to convince herself she wouldn’t end up in hospital to worry about a bit of thigh flashing. The sun warmed her back as she took her first wobbly ride across the garden and crashed straight into a bush. She couldn’t see Josh at the kitchen window, but she blushed anyway.

  The front wheel came free with a good yank on the handlebars. She picked the leaves out of the spokes and turned the bike around, hoping that this time she’d remember to use the brakes before she ended up with plasters on her knees.

  Memories of the last time she’d ridden a bike rose up, rich and vivid. Sunday lunches, arguing over who got to finish the pudding. Ice creams on the beach at Brighton. David waiting for her at the school gates, because his school tipped out 10 minutes earlier than hers did and they always walked home together. Good memories. Good times.

  For the first time in forever, she could think about David without guilt making her sick, and it was all down to Josh and his magic charm. Or the magic sex. Or the magic something, anyway. He’d even had her confessing her silly childhood plan to turn the auction house into a jazz club.

  She took a couple more turns around the garden, less wobbly, more confident now. She even remembered to use the brakes. Maybe…maybe she could tell him the rest of it, tell him the things about David’s accident that he didn’t know. Tell him what had really happened that night.

  Yes. She’d tell him. Right now. Taking one last spin around the garden to prove to herself that she wasn’t going to fall off, she propped the bike up against the wall and went inside.