No one matched up to her. No one ever would.
She was back, but for how long?
A need to be in Torquay, ripping the high tide and fighting his incessant need to be under her spell washed over him, and an agonizing ache brewed. How could this one woman bring him to his knees so easily? He was screwed, so much for focusing on working towards running Torquay’s new technical college. All he could think about now was her, Lola, the first and only girl to ever make his heart ache.
The doors slid open. He hopped off the train and instinct made him turn and hold out a hand to steady her so she didn’t trip or lose luggage.
“Thanks, Dennis.”
“Yeah, sure.” He hoped he sounded casual. Tried to, anyway, and even yawned to draw attention to his faked lack of interest.
She reached for his shoulder and squeezed. “This is where we—”
“Kissed,” he stated.
“Yes, kissed.” Her eyes watered and she rounded her mouth and let out a soft sigh.
Ah, hell.
“I wish I hadn’t fought against loving you,” she whispered. “But I’m glad you’ve moved on and found someone worthy of you.”
A coldness closed in on him, suffocating and unbearable. He had found someone, Bianca, but his heart still belonged to Lola. He feared he may never get over loving her, but he needed to. He badly needed to.
“You got what you wanted, you became famous.” He hunched.
“Who was I kidding to deny us our happy ending?”
He leapt up the stairs to reach open space and gasped for air.
She kept pace with him, pulling along her battered suitcase and pink hold-all.
Bright lights, manic traffic, and people jaunting back and forth made for plenty of distraction. Navigating London in the evening was never fun if you walked against the flow. He should have taken her to Jane’s new flat. But if he took her directly to his sister at work, she’d become her problem all the sooner. Going out of his way to help her, even this once, he risked becoming addicted to her again. Something was going on with her, he knew it, sensed it in her faraway gaze just like he always could. Lola’s petite size and perfect pout made it difficult to ignore this particular damsel in distress. He had to try, though.
He stood tall and pushed out his chest. “Let’s make one thing clear before the night gets any older. Once we find Jane, I’m out of here. Seeing you again, it hasn’t been too much fun.”
“Do you honestly think I hurt you on purpose?”
He nodded. “You made me love you and then you disappeared.” Taking a deep breath, he maneuvered through the crowded streets.
“I’m so sorry, Dennis.”
“Uh-huh.” The city traffic frustrated the hell out of him—busses pulling out without warning, and car horns sounding as drivers forced their way into the flow and took risky junction exits. Those on foot pushed into each other as they peered at the show-stopping lights on billboards and in windows.
“I always knew Jane would make it. Last we spoke, she had been bumped from chorus line to a speaking role in Wicked.” She stared at the show ads surrounding them, and the bright lights of the West End, her eyes wide and her smile wider still. “I bet she’s lead by now.”
He nodded. “She’s made it, for sure.”
“I just love London. Remind me, why did I leave again?”
He daren’t remind her, tell her it was because she was selfish and dream-driven; it’d mean crushing her little high. She always could see the magical in the most ordinary of things; it was part of her charm. “I don’t get how anyone can love the bustle of the place as much as you do.”
“I just adore the excitement and all the pretty lights. Reminds me of when Jane and I first came here to study dance. I had the best time being without my mum’s tight rein for the first time. Don’t you love it?” She shook her head. “No, of course, you’d rather be back home in Torquay near the ocean, wouldn’t you?”
An elderly lady with a walking cane thwacked Dennis’s leg and charged past him.
He cringed. “I enjoy the city, somewhat.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.” He growled, annoyed she hadn’t sensed his sarcasm and lack of enthusiasm.
“Fine, I can take a hint. I’ll stop with the billion questions.”
A chuckle fell from his mouth. “Finally.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She waggled a finger at him and scowled. “Whatever. Hey, shout if you see a cash machine. I’m down to my last twenty.”
“There’s one across the street.”
Treading onto the road, he ushered her to follow. A bus whizzed by and he double-stepped back onto the pavement, stumbling into her.
“Ow. My arm.” She dropped her bags and rubbed her elbow, knocking his sister’s beloved door plaque from his hand and into the direct path of oncoming traffic. A red Mini drove over it, cracking it into pieces.
“Fuck.” God, it felt great to swear again. Bianca hated a foul mouth, and he’d trained himself to say poppycock instead of swearing around her. “Poppy-fucking-cock.”
The precious artwork lay shattered across the road, in too many pieces for any hope of gluing it back together. His sister would probably slap him then ignore him for weeks and deny him her baking. A torture he’d rather avoid.
“You all right?” She rubbed his arm.
“Fine. Stupid bloody bus drivers think they own the roads.”
“The lights have changed, let’s cross while we have a chance.” She grabbed her bags and scurried across to safety. He followed.
“I don’t know why you came back to London,” he hissed. “Don’t you long for the quiet of Torquay?”
She sighed. “Torquay was never exactly quiet for me.”
“Yes. Of course, nothing could be quiet with your mother.”
She scowled. Ah hell, he’d touched a sore spot.
“Didn’t you say there was a cash machine around here?”
“It’s coming up,” he replied.
A double-decker pulled up beside them. The same Doll House advert she’d seen earlier spanned the length of the vehicle.
An elderly couple exited, and the bus rolled back into the flow of traffic.
“That’s the fifth time I’ve seen that ad since arriving. When did stripping become a viable advertising option for public transport?”
“What? I almost get run over and kill the last piece of art Jane made with Mum, and you chatter on about busses and strippers?”
“Sorry to disappoint, but it’s not all gloom and doom. Jane and I bought that plaque together from the pound shop.”
He pursed his lips. “Jane, I’ll bloody kill her.”
“Please don’t.” A smirk spread on her pretty little face.
He couldn’t wait to see her reaction when she found out where Jane worked. He could be nice and tell her his sister was the headliner for The Doll House, but there’d be no fun in that. And damn it, being in her presence took him back to when they were in high school. He’d liked to prank her a lot back then, too. She was just too adorable when she was mad, so adorable that he couldn’t help but poke at her.
She sighed. “Yup. Happy hour all day at that place, I bet.”
“I see you’re a Devonshire lass still holding everyone to your very high standards.”
She scrunched her face. “Harsh.”
“What makes you assume The London Dolls aren’t as artistic as your how-do-you-do ballet company?” He glanced at the time on his phone. If they hurried, they might catch his sister’s act. Now that would blow Lola’s mind, and she would understand the gist of striptease a little better. He hoped. “Keep up.”
“If you ask me, girls who strip could do so much better for themselves.” She scurried beside him, three tiny steps to one of his.
“But I didn’t ask. And burlesque dancers aren’t strippers.”
“I bet your fiancée would agree with me.”
He snickered. “Obviously you don’t know Bianca. Besides, how�
�d you even know I was engaged?” Was. That engagement had ended three months earlier.
“I heard you chatting wedding invites and such on the phone back at the flat. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’re getting married.”
Never had he been so glad to see an ATM. “Cash machine,” he announced.
“So, when’s the big day?” She dug out a card and pushed it in the slot.
“Nosy poke.” He should explain that he had ended his engagement, but the pretense of an impending marriage seemed the safer option. Safest for his heart, anyway.
“I see you’re still good at avoiding answers.”
Don’t give her the satisfaction…
She continued, “Must be soon if you’re talking about cake.”
He cleared his throat. “Where’s Al? Am I to assume things aren’t so perfect in Wonderland?”
She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Al is...we broke up.”
“And now it’s clear.”
“What is?” She typed in her pin number then hit enter.
“Why you’re back. You got kicked out of the company. I’m so sorry.”
She cleared her throat. “Not quite.”
“No?”
“I left Al over six months ago, and as for the company, I’m just taking a break because, well…because I needed a break.”
There was something she wasn’t telling him, and that pompous choreographer he’d heard stories about via Jane had to be at the center of it. Seemed he was the center of all her drama from what he’d heard secondhand. “I’m sorry, Lola.”
“Why? I’m still in the company.”
“I know dancing for the Royal Ballet was all you ever wanted, so I’m guessing whatever the reason is for your extended leave, it must be big to steal you away from the stage.”
“Perhaps I’ve grown, matured, and just needed time for myself?”
“Could it be? Lola Lone has realized dance isn’t the be-all, end-all?” Scenarios with ever-afters ran through his head. A sweet three-bedroom cottage with sea views and two and a half kids with Lola. They’d spend days on the beach as a family. Heck, he could even be happy in the city with Lola. They could move closer to the school where he taught, and, and… Snap out of it. Stay clear of nonsensical dreams.
She turned to face him and paled.
“Lola?”
“It’s gone.”
“What?”
“All my money, it’s gone. That can’t be.” She began the process again, each hit of the buttons becoming more frantic. Leaning against the cash machine, she sniffled.
“I’m sure it’s a mistake.” He wrapped his hand around her arm.
“He took everything except fifty-six pence. He left me penniless,” she cried.
“He? He who? Al? Did Al do this?” His blood bubbled.
Shaking her head, she leaned into him. “It must have been Al. He…he…he had my pin number. Maybe? I can’t remember.”
“Why would Al do such a thing?”
“Because,” she said between rasped breaths, “he’s still in love with me. He writes me letters and sends flowers before each show.”
“And this makes him suspect number one because?”
“He follows me everywhere I go, turned all but one of the dancers against me, and pushed me from lead dancer to the background. He thinks if he pushes hard enough, I’ll go back to him. But I won’t. I bloody well won’t.”
“I’m guessing he’s the reason you came looking for Jane?”
She clutched her purse tight to her chest. “Yes.”
“Tell me exactly what happened,” he demanded, his hands fisting as he fought to stay calm.
“His behavior was concerning, so I approached the company director about him. Asked if there was a way to get him to back off and quit messing with my career. They decided, instead, that it was best I took a break. Me. Like it was all my fault.”
“And the police, what did they say?”
“They didn’t want the police involved. Bad press, etc.… I mean, it’s only been flowers and letters.” Her voice wavered as she spoke. “Until now. Until he decided to steal from me.”
“Exactly. Now that he’s gone this far, it’s a matter for the police, regardless.”
She nodded, hands trembling and lips quivering. “I know, but….”
“Don’t worry. Everything will work itself out, and you’re not alone in this.” He retrieved her card from the machine. “Come on, you need a drink. Then we’ll decide what to do.” He took her suitcase and bag, hooked his arm in hers, and guided her along the street. Light rain sprinkled from above, and lamplight glistened on the concrete pavement.
She glanced at him and offered a smile, though her eyes were teary.
Her rescuer.
So predictable.
Damn my kind heart.
Seeing her so hurt, so close to full-on sobbing, made him want to hunt the bastard down and kill him. Or, at the very least, shake him down for the money he’d taken from Lola and scare him off her for good. He strode them through the bustle of London nightlife, his head full of reasons why she hadn’t confided in him.
They arrived at The Doll House. Seemed mean to spring a surprise on her now, but then again, maybe the prank would distract her. Yes. She could be mad at him for a minute versus being scared of that dickhead Al.
She stared up at the glitzy sign. “So, this is where we’ll be grabbing drinks?”
“I happen to know a lot of people who work here.”
“A regular? I see.”
“Maybe bringing you here in this state was a bad idea.”
“Or in any state? But what the hell, we’re here now, and I need that drink.”
“Hmm, I’m not so sure.” Seeing his sister take burlesque center stage might be more than Lola could handle after the day she’d had. He scanned for another option. An Irish Pub across the way seemed viable until lads spilled out onto the street yelling out their favorite teams and singing game songs. Must be a footie match playing on the big screens behind the bar. Ugh. Well, maybe she’d prefer that over burlesque? “There’s a pub across the street. It’s a little crowded.”
“Are you kidding me? Look at the place, heaving with animals. I’d rather deal with strippers than lager louts. Besides, now I’m curious.”
“Are you sure?”
She glanced across the street then back at the glamour of The Doll House. “Sure, why not.”
“Come on, then, let’s get you that drink.” And a side of shock.
Chapter Three
He held the door open for her.
“Empty pockets and my ex clearing me out wasn’t quite the way I imagined my time off. But, like hell I’m falling at the first obstacle,” she said out loud, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Take a deep breath.” He released the door and rubbed the small of her back, his gentle kindness giving her the will to keep focused. Hope burned a tad brighter. “He may have your bank account, but that doesn’t mean he knows where you are, or that he followed you to London.”
“But what if he has followed me here?”
“I’m sure he hasn’t. The missing money could simply be a bank error. Let’s not jump to conclusions yet, okay?”
Wiping her eyes, she pasted on a smile. “I hope to hell Jane can forgive me for not calling in four months because I’ll need a place to stay. Think she’ll have room for me?”
“We share a flat at the moment, but I guess it would be fine.” He paused then shrugged. “Just for a few days.”
“You share?”
He nodded. “Don’t start. I’m in between homes at the moment.”
“Yes, with the upcoming wedding I’d imagine so. So, do you reckon Jane’ll mind?”
“I’m sure she will love having you stay. Come on, let’s grab that drink and report the theft.” He opened the theatre door and ushered her inside.
The sweeping staircase with its gold handrail screamed decadence. Geometrical art deco lights
fixed to the walls illuminated the red carpet with a soft glow.
Twirling on the spot, she absorbed the opulence.
“You okay?”
She nodded. “It’s like I’ve stepped back in time and won the lottery all in one breath.” She curtsied. “I’m home.”
“Not bad for a strip joint, is it?” He chortled. “Let’s leave your bags at the ticket office.” He grabbed her suitcase and travel bag and handed them to a short woman, who Lola guessed to be in her late forties. Maybe younger. It was hard to tell. She was done-up like a five-year-old playing fairy princesses, wearing a pink bobbed wig and a white corset and tutu. Worse still, she had “doll” makeup on. Cliché ballerina face with rosy cheeks, overdone blue eye shadow, and painted on eyebrows and false lashes. Perfect for stage, but up close, it held more of a will-crack-if-you-smile appearance and added maybe ten years to her.
“Miss, can I use your phone, please?”
She creased her brows, the heavy makeup cracking under the pressure. “No. For Dolls only.”
“I need to call the police.”
“Don’t care. You’re not using this phone unless you’re a Doll.”
“You can use my mobile to report Al,” he offered. “Quit nagging Pocket Polly before she throws us out.”
The overdone Doll pulled a hand to her mouth. “Oh, sweetheart, you have a crazy ex? I’m so sorry. Of course, you can use the phone.”
“Polly, that’s the first time I’ve heard you be nice to anyone outside your little circle,” Dennis joked, thumbing her to-do notepad left out on the counter.
“Hey, give me a break. Look, her heart is broken.” She slid her notebook out of reach then placed an old rotary phone on the counter. “You go ahead, honey.”
Louisa smiled at beautiful yet odd Polly and called in the theft. Not that she expected anything to happen. Police didn’t have time to focus on a gentle stalker who lavished her with gifts and gave her the creeps. But they put on the pretense of caring, made the report, and advised her to check with the bank to make sure it wasn’t a mistake. If, indeed, the money had been stolen, she was to cancel the savings account to prevent further damage and keep them updated.
What Lola Wants (London Dolls Book 1) Page 2