“Like what?” she asked. “You want me to wear red lipstick while I wait tables at a dive bar?”
“Did it ever occur to you that I might like to see you in such a fancy dress?”
“No, because it’s not us. That was some girl Beau dressed up like a doll.”
“Oh, drop the act. What girl wouldn’t love to be fussed over like that?”
So what if she had? The hair on the back of her neck rose. “You want me to dress up for you, then maybe you could make a fucking fuss over me once in a while.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You think I don’t? I brag about you to anyone who’ll listen. My hot-as-shit girlfriend Lola—have you seen her in leather pants? Do you know how smart she is, how many ideas she has? Have you seen those eyes? I love those fucking blue eyes, man.” Johnny leaned his hands against the tiled counter and took a deep breath. “I’m the luckiest son of a fucking bitch.”
Johnny had his moments, but hearing how highly he thought of her was harrowing. It was almost enough for her to confess her attraction to Beau so it would stop feeling like such a secret between them. But she couldn’t bring herself to. She’d already imagined Beau at the curb several times, waiting for her to come to him. It was a secret, and it was dirty.
If she didn’t go now, her mind would fill in the blanks of their night together. Driving somewhere exciting to start the night. Beau, unable to keep his hands off her in public knowing how good it could be.
“We can’t do this,” Johnny said.
Lola jerked her head to him. But she’d made the decision for them both. He’d had his chance. He didn’t get to say no now. Did he? She couldn’t cancel. She didn’t want to.
“We can’t fight,” he continued. “If we don’t go into this together, then you’re going in alone, and that puts us on opposite sides. With him in middle. We can’t let him get between us.”
Divided they were weaker. Beau knew that too, though. Her connection with Johnny stretched thinner the more it was pulled in opposite directions.
“We’ve done this once already, so how do we do it better this time?” He pushed off the counter and paced in front of her. He pulled on his chin. “It’s like this. B—no, not business. Logical. This plus this equals that. Remove the emotional side and look at it logically. I’m not so good at that, babe, but you are. And I can try.”
“Logical?” she asked. There was nothing logical about her and Beau in the same room, but there could be between her and Johnny. She followed him with her eyes.
“You already know what to expect,” he said. “It was, what, less than twelve hours? For a million bucks.” He paused. “He didn’t hurt you. He didn’t force you.”
She shook her head.
“Say something.”
It couldn’t be done. Beau couldn’t be managed. But Lola already felt him. She already tasted him. He was too close for her to walk away now. So she said, “I think you might be right.”
“Two million gets us everything we wanted for the bar plus a new place and a car for you. Wouldn’t that be enough?” he asked.
“Yes. It’ll leave us a decent amount.”
“Good.” He nodded.
“But this is where we draw the line,” she said. “I don’t care if it’s ten million for a week. This is far enough for me.” No matter how tempted she was to spend more time with Beau, he’d bought enough of her. This had to be the last night for them.
Johnny stopped walking and came to stand in front of her. He cupped her face. “It is. This will be enough.” His hands twitched like he was going to let go, but he didn’t. “You know what else this gets us?”
“What?”
“A wedding fund.”
Lola bit her lip. “Johnny.”
“And a college fund.”
It was the worst moment to bring up marriage and kids. It blended her budding desire for those things, her guilt over wanting Beau and her disappointment in Johnny—and herself—into the same pot. She pressed her hand to her chest. “Are you…you’re serious?”
“Thought I was a piece of shit for wanting to bring a kid into the world when I had nothing to give him. But now? Everything’s different. Send him to fucking Harvard if I want.”
Lola hadn’t even known where Harvard was until a few years ago. She couldn’t keep up with what Johnny was saying. While she was selling her body for their future, there was no space in her mind for what that bought her. The picture wouldn’t form.
Everything teetered dangerously close to the edge. She wasn’t sure if the right decision was to reach out and pull it back—or to let it fall.
6
When Lola was fourteen, she’d stolen makeup from a nearby drugstore. Some crimes were small. Some were big. Some were never found out—like the makeup—and then, were they really crimes at all? Lola paced in front of the window, pausing every few minutes to see the sun a little lower. She didn’t even need what she’d taken. For years, she’d walked an extra four blocks to a different drugstore.
Lola stopped her march to watch the building across the street eat the last sliver of sun. Almost right away, a black limo appeared through the complex gate.
By the way her palms sweat and her heart pounded like they had fifteen years ago, Lola knew instinctively—she shouldn’t get in that limo. There was more at stake than Johnny realized. Maybe enough to change them permanently. What kind of crime was it to do it anyway? If nobody knew but her, did it matter?
Beau had sent over a large box earlier that day with a red bow around it. The gift was lavish—a gold, beaded dress that crisscrossed in the back and had one slit all the way to her upper right thigh. Johnny had played it off—Beau had to pay for Lola’s attention, and Johnny got that for free. But Lola had ignored him, running her fingers over the intricate beadwork. She didn’t need to be pampered or spoiled, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t nice once in a while.
Lola had waited to change until Johnny’d left for work. She’d done her makeup, attempting to recreate her look from her first evening with Beau so he’d look at her again the way he had in the reflection of the salon’s mirror. This time, though, she left her hair down.
Lola opened the door before Warner had a chance to knock. “Good evening, Miss Winters. Mr. Olivier is ready for you.”
She locked the apartment behind her. “How long have you worked for Beau?” she asked as they curved around the pool and crossed the courtyard.
Warner kept his eyes forward. “Almost ten years.”
“You must’ve been young when you started.”
“Only a few years older than Mr. Olivier.”
“Have you always wanted to—drive? Do you do other things?”
“I also drive Miss Leroux.”
“Who?”
He leaned forward and opened the limo door. Beau had a pile of papers on his lap and a phone to his ear. He nodded at her and covered the mouthpiece. “Wait there a moment.” He returned to his conversation as Lola stood on the sidewalk. Warner had disappeared.
Beau hung up without even a goodbye. He made a note on the paperwork in his lap, then tossed it on the car floor. He smiled up at her—like he was a king who’d just returned from a long day ruling his kingdom and had found her waiting for him. He got out of the car.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He stood up to his full height and looked down on her. He lifted her chin with his knuckle, and just that one point of contact covered her in goose bumps. She’d selected her highest heels for the evening, but her head still tilted back for Beau.
“Thank you for dressing the part tonight,” he said. “Though you were stunning in old jeans, something this beautiful finally does you justice.”
He was sincere. The compliments he paid her never seemed to serve as a means to get something, even a reaction. It made her uncharacteristically weak in the knees.
“Any credit goes to the dress,” she said. “Thank you for sending it.”
Neither of them looked away. The
re were memories in the way they took from each other’s eyes. For Lola, it was the way she fit into his arms as they fell asleep. It was the way he fucked her like he owned her.
“Let’s go inside.”
She took an automatic step back, blinking everything between them away. “Inside?” she asked, touching her chin where he’d just touched her. “What?”
“I’d like to see your place.”
“No.”
“No?” His tone was reminder enough that no matter what moments they’d had, he was in charge.
She panicked and blurted the first thing that came to her. “We can’t. Johnny’s home.”
“I don’t believe you. Last time he watched from the window.”
She hadn’t known that. She glanced over her shoulder. “Well, okay, you’re right—he’s…he’s at work, but—”
“He didn’t stay to see you off?” Beau asked, tilting his head.
“We decided it was better this way. The whole emotional goodbye thing was hard last time.”
“So then it shouldn’t be a problem. If you don’t want him to know, don’t tell him.” He took a step, but she moved into his path.
“Why?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I want a glimpse into your life. It will help complete the picture in my head.”
Her apartment was the last piece of her and Johnny Beau hadn’t infiltrated. It was Johnny’s kingdom, but she worried Beau would make it his the moment he walked in. “I’m not comfortable with that.”
Beau made a point of turning and squinting at the sky behind him. It was still light out, but the sun was gone. He looked back at Lola. “Should we review the terms of our agreement?”
Sweat coated her upper lip. She licked it away. “No. That won’t be necessary.”
He inclined forward as if to kiss her and stopped. He’d taken his time the first night to make sure she was comfortable, but they were past that now. Did he need an invitation? She resisted the urge to lick her lips a second time.
He turned away to take something from the car and close the door. “Go ahead, ma chatte. Lead the way.”
She went back the way she’d just come, Beau close behind her. Despite her wariness of his request, her body thrummed being with him again. She jiggled the key a few times until the lock gave and cleared her throat. “It’s stubborn.”
Beau walked into the apartment with one hand in his pocket. Under his arm was a medium-sized package wrapped in brown craft paper. Another present? It was uncomfortable, him spending money on her when he’d paid so much for one evening. He’d already given her the dress, and whatever plans they had tonight that warranted such a gown wouldn’t come cheap.
He glanced up at the ceiling, then at a pillow on the couch. Johnny’d slept there the night before since he’d been unusually restless and hadn’t wanted to keep Lola awake. Beau wandered across the room and looked down the hallway toward their bedroom.
“I wasn’t expecting company,” Lola said, picking up Johnny’s dishes from the coffee table. She carried them to the sink.
Beau found her in the kitchen. “I like seeing people in their natural states. Don’t clean on my account.” He walked to the fridge and pulled a photo from under a magnet. “Camping?”
“In Yosemite.”
He studied Johnny and Lola’s smiling faces. “You have freckles.”
“They’re more noticeable when I get sun.”
“You look young,” he said. “And happy.”
“We were.”
He looked up at her with one eyebrow arched.
“Young, I mean,” she said. “We were young. We’re still happy.”
His thumb pressed into the corner, sending a wrinkle through the center. He dumped the package heavily on the kitchen counter. “That’s the first half of the money. I brought it in cash this time to avoid unwanted attention.”
“Oh.” She stared at the parcel, feeling foolish. It’d been presumptuous to assume it was a gift. “Maybe I should put it in a closet or something.”
“That would be wise.”
Before she could move, he dropped the photo on top of the money and walked over to her. She held up her hands to stop him, but he took her face and kissed her, backing her against the counter.
She shoved him off. “Stop,” she said, panting. “This is his home.”
He looked into her eyes. “That’s the last time tonight I’ll allow you to push me away. I’ve been as patient as I can.” He was also breathing hard. “Since we said goodbye, you’re all I’ve thought of.”
“You wanted to see my place, fine. As long as we’re here, though, I’m off limits. Completely. I don’t give a damn about our agreement.”
He continued to stare at her. She braced herself, knowing how touchy he could be when it came to Johnny. Instead, he took a step back. “Then we’d better go. I’m having a hard time getting ahold of myself.”
They made their way outside, and she locked up. Had he said he’d been thinking of her since they’d said goodbye?
On the way to the car, he took her hand and brought it to his lips. “I’m glad you called. What we discussed on the phone—it still stands, doesn’t it?”
“I haven’t been with Johnny.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised.”
He was baiting her, but she didn’t even want to know what he’d meant by that. She looked at the ground. Did Beau think Johnny would be repulsed by her? Or that Lola was the one who didn’t want it? She took the bait. “Why aren’t you surprised?”
“I challenge any man to be okay with knowing the woman he loves was just with someone else. Not just the act of it, but the intimacy. The closeness. The touching, whispering.” He glanced over at her, narrowing his eyes a fraction. “I’m not okay with it. Far from it.”
His voice was almost accusatory, as if he were in Johnny’s shoes. “Are you talking about him or yourself? Does it bother you, Johnny and me?”
He returned his eyes forward as they approached the car, and it was a moment before he answered. He leaned over to open the door for her. “Yes.”
She didn’t move. “But I’m not the woman you love.”
He remained passive except that the angles of his jaw sharpened. “Just imagine if you were.”
7
Within seconds of pulling away from the curb of Lola’s apartment complex, Beau placed his hand just inside the slit of her dress and squeezed gently. She didn’t expect his touch to overwhelm her like it did, as if it were the eye of a hurricane, the spot the rest of her body revolved around. She grabbed his wrist and pulled him off.
“What’s wrong?” His cheek dimpled at one corner of his mouth.
“It’s too much,” she said.
“But it’s nothing.”
“It should be.”
He replaced his hand but this time slid it under the dress. “You say you’re doing this for the money. Maybe that’s what he needs to hear. Your body tells a different story, though.” His fingers edged along the inside of her thigh. “I know the other night’s played a loop in your thoughts, just like it has in mine.”
She shored up her resolve. Beau no doubt expected her to give in completely, but it was early. It was his nature to push, and it was hers to push back. She was having a hard time remembering why she should, though, with his hand burning against her skin. “Where are you taking me tonight?” she asked to change the subject.
“Care to take a guess?”
“In this gown, somewhere fancier than I’ve ever been. Right?”
“I don’t know where you’ve been.” He was teasing her, mischief in his twinkling eyes.
She pressed her lips together to suppress a smile. “There’s a movie premiere in Hollywood.”
“Not that unusual.”
She shifted in her seat. “And the L.A. Opera season opened this week. La Traviata is playing.”
“You’ve given this some thought.”
“I looked online.” Lola didn’t want to sound overeag
er, but she’d been wondering all afternoon what was in store. “Of course, it’s L.A.—there’re tons of things happening. But those both sounded exciting.”
He smiled. “Our first stop is to see my sister in the Hollywood Hills. It won’t take five minutes.”
Lola’s brows furrowed. While researching Beau, she hadn’t read anything about siblings. “You never mentioned a sister. Is she younger or older?”
“Younger by a couple years. You can wait in the car if you’d like.”
She feigned interest in her fingernails. “Yes, that’s probably best.”
After a brief silence, he said, “Or, you can meet her. I’d like that.”
She glanced up. “Wouldn’t that be weird?”
“Not for me. Brigitte and I often attend the same events, so she’s met some of my dates.”
“Were they also paid to stand by your side, though?”
Beau looked as though he’d bitten into a lemon. “Of course not. You don’t have to give her all the details.”
“Right,” she said. “I guess that would be fine.”
“Good.” He rubbed her leg. “I like that you wore the dress,” he said softly. “I like that you shaved your legs again. Even if it wasn’t for me.”
His hand moved over her skin as though they’d never parted. Their connection hadn’t weakened with time apart. She was just as hungry for his hand to move higher—to give her what only he could. She was supposed to be pushing back, but his pull was strong.
“It was,” she said.
She was there, somewhere she both did and did not want to be. She could fight—he would win. She could give everything over—he would demand more. There was a war in and outside of her. Her against herself. Her against him. His weapons were growing, even as she inched over to his side.
He moved a little closer. His stiff hair smelled of men’s product. She reached up and took a piece that had separated and fallen over his forehead. She slid her fingers along it to put it in place, but it just swung back. He had touched her—her chin, her leg, his lips to hers, his hand around hers, but she had not yet touched him except for that strand of hair. She wanted more. Wasn’t it okay to take it? Isn’t that what all three parties involved had agreed to?
Explicitly Yours Series Page 22