Reunited Lovers (Friendship Chronicles Book 2)

by Shelley Munro

  “You’ve lost weight,” she blurted.

  “My appetite disappeared after the mugging, and I haven’t been sleeping well. I have headaches.” He shuddered but didn’t add more.

  Most guys would whine but he was straightforward. Smart move on his part. Yikes, bitch alert. “How bad are they?”

  “They’re worse when I get overtired or stressed.”

  “What did the doctors say?”

  “They told me the headaches will taper off. So, do you feel sorry enough for me to invite me to stay?”

  “You’re playing me.” Bother, she couldn’t keep her bitchy side contained.

  “A little.” A cheeky grin surfaced—one containing an edge of flirtation and a smidgeon of boyish charm. The sort of grin that tugged at a person and made them want to return the sentiment. His dark eyelashes fluttered, a striking frame around his pale blue eyes. “Is it working?”

  Julia bit her lip to stop laughing, ultra-aware of the gleam in his eyes, the light press of his weight against her and the prod of his erection. To give him credit, he didn’t grind against her or do anything else tacky. Instead they stared at each other, silent messages flying back and forth while she tried to remain grounded.

  “I’m going to kiss you.” A clear statement of intent.

  She sucked in a harsh breath. She would tell him to move away so she could finish her coffee. Yes, she’d do that any second now. His head lowered, coming closer. The scent of soap, herby with a touch of lemon, filled her next breath. Then his lips were on hers and he was kissing her. His mouth was gentle but insistent too. Immediately he shoved her into the past, into a dreamlike state where pleasure danced through her senses, prickled in the damp heat between her legs. She moaned and clutched his shoulders, bringing his weight against her. So good. She could kiss him all day, exist in this world of desire and the beginnings of erotic pleasure. A world without problems.

  As if he read her jumble of thoughts, he pulled back, his mouth reddened, his lips slightly wet from their kiss. The sense of loss was unbearable. She leaned into him, silently imploring him for more.

  “Julia, your phone is going.”

  “Huh?”

  He turned away and grabbed her cell phone off the counter top. She accepted it from him and took two tottering steps back, groping her foggy mind for sanity. A trembling finger stabbed the right button to answer the call. “Y-yes?”

  “Julia,” he whispered.

  She couldn’t look at him, not even when he repeated her name. Her coffee appeared in front of her nose, and she realized that was what he was trying to tell her. She clutched the cardboard cup and tried to ignore her unsteady hand.

  “Are you there?” Maggie’s familiar voice dispersed some of the mist inside her head.

  “Sorry. Just a bit distracted.” She glared at Ryan when he snorted.

  “Do you want to share a cab to the club with us?”

  “I thought I’d jump on the loop bus. It goes right past the club.”

  “Good idea. We’ll do the same. Be there in five minutes.”

  “No, I’m not dressed yet. I-I slept in.” Julia closed her eyes, but pretending she wasn’t in her kitchen and standing a short distance from Ryan didn’t lessen the agitated thump of her heart. “I’ll need another ten minutes at least.”

  “Okay, we’ll meet you at the café,” Maggie said. “See you later.”

  “You didn’t tell her I was here.”

  “That will be obvious when we walk into the café together and both say we’ve had breakfast already,” Julia shot back. “Where’s Caleb?”

  “Probably panicking because he can’t find me. He’s turned into a fusspot since my accident. I should ring him before he leaves for Tauranga. He’s visiting his parents for a few days.”

  “He’s your friend,” Julia said. “Friends can mother you when you need it. Why aren’t you going home too?”

  His gaze narrowed on her. “Caleb is my friend, and that’s all he’ll ever be to you.”

  Suddenly the tension between them was a tight spring ready to uncoil. “I was talking about my friends, but since you’ve brought up the subject, we discussed our ménage à trois when we first talked about marriage.”

  Ryan’s breath hissed out. He scrubbed a hand over his face before he looked at her again. “I have no recollection of the conversation.”

  He seemed lost, and his expression made her want to wrap her arms around him in a comforting hug. She quashed the idea to maintain a grip on her sanity.

  “What did—” His voice cracked, and he gave a whip-sharp cough before he continued. “What did we decide?”

  “That Caleb was our friend and we didn’t need a third person in our bed.”

  “Thank you,” he mumbled.

  Julia squeezed his arm and moved away when sympathy urged her to do more. “I’d better shower. My list is on the counter. Why don’t you take a look and tell me if anything jumps out at you?”

  She swallowed the remains of her cooling coffee. “Won’t be long.” Julia hurried to the bathroom, telling herself she was making a huge mistake. She should sprint in the opposite direction, or at the very least, approach her lawyer about a restraining order. But no, she intended to invite him to stay. One way or another they’d use the proximity to discover if their marriage should continue.

  The promised ten minutes later, she sauntered into the kitchen. Ryan was on the phone.

  “Julia and I needed to talk,” he said into the phone. “We intend to catch the loop bus to meet the others at the café near the club before we start work. Yeah. Say hello to your parents for me. I’ll see you on Monday afternoon.”

  On seeing her, he disconnected the call, his gaze taking in her tight blue jeans and her favorite black tunic top that made the most of her curves. She hadn’t bothered with much makeup—just a swish of mineral powder and a clear lip gloss. Her hair was in a high ponytail, imminently practical for work.

  “You look beautiful.”

  “Thanks.” His compliment brought a rush of pleasure because the heated glow in his eyes told her it was genuine.

  “You can move in,” she said before she could rethink her decision. “There’s a spare bedroom. I want to take things slow.” She intended to work long hours anyway. She wouldn’t spend much of the next two weeks at her apartment.

  “You won’t regret it.” Ryan wanted to shout out in exhilaration but held himself in check. This was his last chance—his only chance—and he didn’t want to blow it. Nerves simmered in the pit of his stomach, much the same as the ones he experienced seconds before walking on stage for a gig. She’d given him an opening, and it was up to him to make sure his plan succeeded.

  They walked into the café together almost half an hour later. Julia paused in the doorway, scanning the interior until she found her friends.

  “Do you want another coffee and something to eat?”

  A baby cried at a nearby table, and Julia winced, looking away with a moue of distaste. Normally he liked kids, but the unhappy cries pushed the tingles of a beginning headache into low gear. “Julia?” he prompted.

  “Another latte and two sandwiches to take away,” she said, lifting a hand to wave at her friends. “It looks as if they’re nearly finished. They won’t want to wait for us.” She turned away before looking back at him. “Make sure you get something to eat. Something fattening. You can’t afford to lose any more weight.”

  The baby stopped crying, and Julia sent a quick glance in that direction. The tension that slid from her shoulders echoed in the reactions of the people sitting at the next table.

  “Coffee and sandwiches it is.” Ryan grinned and headed for the counter. She’d paid attention to him and cared enough to worry about his health. He spied Caleb arriving and tilted his chin in recognition.

  Caleb joined him as Ryan perused the selection of food. “What are you smirking about?”

  Ryan knuckle-bumped with his friend, delight at his wife’s concern still tickling
him. “Julia is worried about my weight loss. What are you doing here?”

  “I thought you might want your guitar and music before I left.” Caleb checked to see if anyone might overhear him. “I told you she sneaks glances at you when she thinks you won’t notice. Was she okay about you turning up this morning?”

  “She’s letting me move into the apartment with her.”

  “Way to go!” Another knuckle-bump ensued.

  “I’m in the spare bedroom,” Ryan said. “But it’s a start.”

  “Good going. Are you working on our arrangements this morning?”

  “Yes. I didn’t get around to asking Julia how much she wants to charge us for rehearsal space.”

  “We can help her with some of her renovation work. I wonder if she’ll let me help with hiring the dancers.”

  Ryan let out a snort. “Good luck with that.”

  With coffee and sandwiches in hand, he and Caleb wandered over to the table of friends. It was almost like hanging out with the band given the energy pulsing through the air and the sense of solidarity. The positive vibe was addictive, and for the first time in months, Ryan experienced normal and grounded instead of drifting outside himself. Obviously his heart had known something—someone—was missing even if his brain remained clueless.

  “Caleb brought my guitar and music before he heads off to Tauranga.” Ryan edged around the table so he stood by Julia. Sick puppy. But now he’d found her again, he was only comfortable when he was near her. No doubt a psychologist would have a ball dissecting the confidence.

  “I’m finished.” Susan pushed her partially eaten plate away. “I can’t eat all this if I want to look good for the reality show.”

  “You’ll need the energy,” Julia said. “I intend to work you hard and crack the whip if you slacken. And then I’ll start the dance training. You said you wanted to learn, right?”

  And work them, she did.

  Exhaustion dogged Ryan’s steps during the late afternoon. He and Julia’s friend, Connor, had spent most of the day preparing the walls for painting, perched on ladders and removing the heavy velvet curtains.

  “That’s the last one.” Connor dropped the red velvet, and it crashed to the ground with a huge cloud of dust. He sneezed before climbing down the ladder.

  Ryan scanned the walls. Although years of smoke had discolored the white paint, the curtains had shielded the surfaces too. “A good scrub might be enough,” he said. “The paint isn’t peeling off anywhere.”

  “I agree,” Connor said. “It’s not the big job I envisaged.”

  “That looks better,” Julia said, coming up behind him.

  “What color are you painting it?” Connor asked.

  Julia halted beside them, and once again the sense of rightness filled Ryan. “Christina suggested a deep midnight blue with borders of gold as accents. What do you think?”

  “Sounds good,” Ryan said. “A dark color might allow you to project images onto the walls too.”

  Julia seized his arm and squeezed, her eyes blazing with enthusiasm. “Great idea. I’ve been trying to work out how to make our acts and the club different and unique.”

  “Good enough for a kiss?” He tapped a spot on his cheek, his breath hitching when he saw her hesitate. He’d done this to her, made her cautious. She wavered for so long the silence became uncomfortable.

  Then she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the mouth. Whoa! Zero to a hundred in seconds flat. Urgency thrummed through him, his hands gripping her shoulders in case she pulled away. He took the kiss deeper, drinking her up like a thirsty man, savoring her heat and the press of her breasts against his chest, storing every single second to pull out later when he was alone.

  “The girls have arrived for the auditions.” Maggie spoke loudly, right next to his ear. He started, pulled to the present and slackened his hold but didn’t release Julia.

  “Oh, good.” Maggie wrinkled her nose. “I thought I’d need a hose to separate the pair of you. Didn’t you hear me the first time? Only three dancers turned up from the agency. We don’t want them to get the wrong idea.”

  “Thank you, Maggie,” Julia said.

  Ryan winked at Julia, and she grinned back. Relief was a swift kick in the guts. His manhandling hadn’t scared her.

  “I’d better check out these dancers,” she said. “Take a break or finish up for the day.” She strode away, and Ryan stared after her.

  “You’ve got it bad for her,” Connor said.

  “Yeah.” No denying the truth.

  “If you hurt her, you’ll have me to deal with.” Connor’s hard gaze backed up his statement. “She—” He broke off, chagrin chasing across his face.

  “What?”

  “Under her tough exterior, she’s fragile. You want a drink or something to eat? I’m going for some fresh air.”

  But he wasn’t inviting Ryan along. “I’m fine.” And because he wasn’t satisfied with the way the conversation had gone, he added, “I have no intention of hurting Julia.”

  Connor held his gaze for a long second. “Make sure you don’t.”

  A song with a good strong beat swelled through the air. The first woman started her routine, and it took Julia two minutes to decide she wouldn’t do. Julia held up her hand, a signal to Christina to stop the music.

  “Where did you say you’d worked before?” Julia asked.

  “The Purple Pussy.”

  Julia tapped her pen against her notepaper. “If I take you on, you must learn some new routines and attend training classes.”

  “I can do a strip routine.”

  Julia didn’t intend to argue. “Thank you. I’ve seen enough.”

  The woman stomped away muttering under her breath.

  The second and third women, both in their early twenties and dark-haired, performed their routines, the unoriginal, lackluster moves shoving Julia’s spirits even lower. She signaled for the music to stop and strode up on the stage. “Are you both willing to do training?”

  “That would be great,” the first said.

  The second woman nodded. “I haven’t been dancing long. I love to learn new routines.”

  “Excellent,” Julia said crisply. “We might as well start now.”

  She strode up onto the stage and stood in front of a pole. “Start the music please, Christina.”

  “Wait for us,” Maggie said, coming running. Susan followed swiftly behind and they took their places in front of a pole. Christina started the music and joined them. Julia took them through a grueling training session, starting with the basics just as her mother had shown her.

  Finally, she took them through a cool-down and strode over to stop the music.

  “Next time I’m bringing my workout gear,” Maggie said. “That was harder than the gym sessions Connor designed for me.”

  “You’ll need a pair of heels too. Black if possible, so you get used to dancing in shoes rather than flats,” Julia said. “Guys love a woman’s legs in heels.”

  “I’ll vouch for that,” Ryan said.

  Julia blew out a breath. “I didn’t realize you were still here.”

  “Wouldn’t have missed it,” he said. “Great job. You girls are quick learners.”

  “We have a way to go yet.” Julia turned to speak to her new employees. She didn’t seem to have put them off. “Can you both make it here around two tomorrow afternoon?”

  They assured her they could and left.

  “I won’t be able to move tomorrow,” Susan said. “My muscles are seizing up.”

  “Take a hot bath when you get home,” Julia said. “I want you fighting fit tomorrow at nine.”

  Her friends left for the day, leaving her alone with Ryan.

  “What do you think?” she asked. “Is this fixable?” Although she’d hated working here and living above the club as a child, this time seemed different. The club was part of her family history, and she was the last of the Maxwell line. She owed it to her mother and the other famil
y members who had worked to keep the place alive, despite the obstacles.

  “As long as you can get the right staff,” Ryan said.

  She nodded, glad he wasn’t offering platitudes. “That will be the hardest part. None of those dancers were up to the standards Mum set when I worked here.”

  “We’ll do it.”

  “I thought you needed to work on your music. You did stuff for me all day.”

  “I wrote a lot of music during the tour. While the others partied, I spent hours writing new material.”

  “What about the photos on the Internet?”

  “I attended some of the after concert parties, the ones I couldn’t get out of. You must know how the paparazzi operate. They pay women to drape themselves around us, and try to take off the masks we use when we do publicity. I try to discourage the touchy-feely stuff, but it doesn’t always work.”

  A flash of the last photo she’d seen blasted to the forefront of her mind. The lip lock. Ryan’s hands gripping the woman’s shoulders and drawing her closer. A shudder ran through her, and she tried to force the image away. It refused to shift, hovering like the smell of a putrid egg.

  It wasn’t Ryan’s fault he’d come last in the line of rotten bad-boys. It wasn’t fair to cast him in the same group as the others who’d kicked her down when it suited them. Cheated, lied and given her an STD. Her mind froze at the last thought, jagged pain hacking at her psyche.

  “We always attend those parties in full disguise, using our masks instead of our stage makeup. How do you know it was me?”

  She puffed out a hard breath, struggled to regain her equilibrium. “Please. You think I can’t recognize my husband when I see him?”

  A little of the devil shone in his eyes again. “Good to hear.”

  “Besides, you all have your initials on the masks. I saw the D.”

  “Oh.” The teasing left him, a trace of frustration coming to the surface. “The photo might have been manipulated or taken out of context. Some of the women test our boundaries.”

  “You think?” Oh, he was quick. She turned away, unable to watch his expression. He said he hadn’t done it on purpose while she’d decided the suggestive photo was a sign he wanted out of their marriage.