Slow Dancing (The Second Chances Series Book 4)

by Isobelle Cate

  The kettle popped and she made peppermint tea, sighing in relief as she sat down. She rubbed her forehead with her hand. Five days had passed since the night that lodged her heart in her throat, in more ways than one.

  When the nurse and surgeon found her, Cinzia, and her mother in the deserted café, her mother stiffened then trembled already expecting the worse. She gripped Bethany’s hand with a strength Bethany didn’t know she had. Bethany had also tried to strengthen her resolve.

  It’s not bad news. It’s not bad news.

  Her eyes locked on their lips waiting for the words that would make her world fall apart or not. It was easier hearing that way. Even with her hearing aid, sounds had the tendency to blur together. For her, reading lips was the next best thing.

  Their voices had filtered through the vacuum she created. She read the words ‘stable condition’ and ‘transfer’. Everything happened so fast and before she knew it, her father was in his own room in a private hospital with round the clock private care, courtesy of an anonymous benefactor.

  Bethany stared at the light in the centre of the plain white ceiling of her dining room. The light shade made of hardened Japanese paper looked more like a meteoric explosion in space. In reality she found it on Gumtree – an artist was selling some of his installation pieces that weren’t up to scratch for a gallery. Bethany bought it.

  One person’s trash was another one’s treasure.

  All of the bits and pieces that decorated a shelf, the ceramic bowl in the middle of the dining table, the water colour painting gracing the wall behind the sofa, the glass vase for filled with stalks of lavender came from craft and country fairs—reminders that there was still a lot of good in the world. As for the picture frames of a girl in various stages of her growth that lined the wall of the stairway, those were Bethany originals. She smiled. Amara was one of the best reminders Bethany had about living.

  She didn’t bother to draw the blinds away from the doors leading to the pocket garden. Her body was too weary from so many late nights. Today was a rare few hours of free time for herself. All she wanted to do was sleep a dreamless sleep. She padded back to the living room, mug in hand before plopping her body on the couch.

  “Just one hour…” She promised herself. Her eyes became heavy. “One hour…”

  Her phone rang and danced, vibrating on the table. Bethany fumbled for it looking at the time.

  “Shit!” she sat upright, her heart racing at the sudden movement making her light headed. Bloody hell. She had slept for three hours!

  She took her hearing aid out of her left ear before answering. The caller’s voice may be sharper, but so would the ambient sound in the house. It was easier to focus on the voice.

  “Mum?” Her voice was husky, automatically answering. “What is it?”

  “It’s me.”

  Her heart took a nose dive for a different reason. Shock, surprise, reluctant excitement and pleasure swirled in her belly.

  “Drake?” Air whooshed out of her. “How did you get my number?”

  “The hospital.”

  Her spine straightened as realization cleared the fuzziness away from her eyes.

  “You’re the anonymous benefactor.”

  Drake’s chuckle teased her through the line. “Guilty.”

  Her temper slowly rose the same time she inhaled. She was going to lodge a complaint against the hospital. Anonymous benefactor be damned.

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “You’re welcome, and yes, I did.”

  “Fine,” she said tight lipped. “But why the hell would they give my number to you?”

  “Because when I made the arrangements to have Joe transferred, the contact persons were you.” He paused easily. “And me.”

  She took the phone away from her ear, flopping it face down on the sofa.

  “Shit.” The last thing she needed was to be beholden to Drake.

  Get a grip.

  She returned the phone to her ear. “I don’t need your charity.”

  “It isn’t charity.”

  “What do you call it?”

  “I left you. Consider it an apology.”

  “You didn’t leave me. I had to get back inside the hospital. There’s nothing to say sorry for.”

  “It’s to do with leaving fifteen years ago, Bee,” Drake said quietly.

  Quiet or deep, Drake’s voice had power over her. A caress made of sound and air cloaked her with safety. It was so low and sexy. It made her want him. Made her wish he was there with her. She was losing control.

  And she hated it.

  “No.”

  “No what? To the hospital stay or the apology?”

  “Both.” She stood, relieved the world didn’t tilt on its axis the way it was doing right now with Drake. Her lips flattened when she reached out for her tea and it was cold. “You can’t just do that without asking me.” Her eyes widened when she looked at the wall clock. “Shit, I have to go.”

  “I’ll take you.”

  That made her chuckle. If Drake thought she’d wait for him like she did all those years ago he had another thing coming.

  “No need. I’m a big girl now, Drake. I can take care of myself. My car will do.”

  “Not necessary either. I’m just outside your door.”

  She whipped around, her heart in her throat. She saw Drake’s blurry outline in the matte glass that framed the door. Her mouth dried and her pulse raced, her sense going into overdrive.

  “Did you develop some stalker tendencies when you disappeared? Because it sure looks like it.” She scowled when Drake’s soft laugh caused her body to tingle. “I am going to have a serious conversation with the hospital’s management.”

  “They only told me your number not where you lived,” Drake said, amusement still in his voice.

  “Who then?” she huffed.

  “Cora.”

  Bethany held her breath exhaling in resignation. Really, Mum? She rubbed her forehead once more. How could she have forgotten her mother had a soft spot for the boy who kept her daughter safe?

  “Breathe, Bee. Just breathe and let me in.”

  She closed her eyes and let her body feel his voice glide over her. That line was something she could easily hear Drake say if they were skin on skin. The longing she had felt and buried for someone she thought she had lost woke. A hunger, deeper than she had ever felt, made her pulse throb between her thighs and inside her core. Deep, sexy, dangerous. Danger could be an aphrodisiac. With Drake the dose was more potent, lethal, deadly. Especially where her heart was concerned. He had broken it a long time ago.

  She vowed she’d never let him break it again.

  “You just can’t do this, Drake.” Thank God her voice didn’t falter.

  “Why not? We never got to finish talking the night your father went to the hospital.”

  “There’s nothing left to say.” She waved her hand in a helpless gesture. She heard Drake’s expelled breath. His figure in the window turned around. Relief seeped through her. He stepped away from the door. Bethany sagged against the sofa’s backrest as the pang of disappointment landed smack in the centre of her chest.

  “Time has left a lot of things unsaid, Bee. I’m not leaving.”

  “Fine. You can wait there until all hell freezes over.” She ended the call, her face hot, indignant.

  Mortified.

  She swallowed through the thickness in her throat. Drake had never seen her this way. Talking back. Standing up for herself. Fifteen years was a very long time to grow and see the world for what it was not. It wasn’t all kindness and generosity. Not sincerity and honesty.

  She learned the hard way that a lot of people found enjoyment in watching others fall. Deriving amusement at someone else’s misfortune behind by a kind, friendly, and understanding face. She had learned to start fighting, finally moving away from the corner where she cowered to engage hypocrites in their own game, giving them a huge dose of their own medicine before the be
ll rang. There was no referee to pull her away from someone whose reputation she bloodied.

  Survival was now the way of the world.

  She climbed the stairs, her actions were slow and deliberate. Placing her hearing aid on the bedside table, Bethany took her time deciding on what clothes to wear, using her phone’s music app to drown her conscience. She bit her bottom lip. Drake was still outside. Or was he? Curiosity and something she had no name for made a shiver go up her spine. She moved to the side of the window, inching the blind a bit to look down.

  Drake looked up, his handsome face lit with a sexy smirk.

  Bethany gasped, moving away so quickly her finger snagged the blind that it shimmied. A guilty blush stole up her cheeks.

  Shit.

  She undressed, went out to the bathroom and turned the shower tap. Steam filled the room as she stepped under the warm water that should have helped her muscles relax. It didn’t. How could she when Drake was outside? It was hell of a way to welcome him back when she hadn’t planned of welcoming him at all. She drew a frustrated growl, caught between wanting and yearning. Between refusing and completely snubbing the person who now had the pull to get her father into a private hospital in a short span of time.

  She closed her eyes imagining Drake’s broad shoulders and muscular arms covered by his shirt. His collar was open giving her a tantalizing view of his neck and the body underneath before lowering her gaze. Bethany’s lips lifted.

  Nice ass.

  She wondered what it would feel like encircling her legs around his waist. Rest her calves over his butt, all while he bounced her up and down his cock.

  Stop!

  Her thoughts were getting the better of her, of what could have been, shadowed by lonely and scary nights when she was on her own going home from a job that paid over a thousand pounds an hour. When she had to detach her consciousness from her body so that she could do her job. A job she believed was the only avenue for survival in order to give Amara a chance at a better life.

  A very old song kept running through my head when she was finally able to sleep in her own bed. The song, I’ve Never Been to Me must have been written by someone who saw lust destroying whatever aspirations and dreams were covered by rose-tinted glasses.

  Bethany hugged herself, letting the water cascade over her body and relieve the stress of the last few days. The humiliation of what she had done had dulled almost to the point of believing that she was no different from an object inside a china cabinet. Set aside but not forgotten. A reminder of the only choice she felt she had back then but a measure of her determination to get away from those who could have completely destroyed her.

  Thank God she succeeded.

  * * *

  It had been five days since he last saw her—five fucking days of calling Caius every conceivable insult in the English language and more.

  Drake picked up Rouen from the airport before they went to Luke’s office. Barry Slater was there as well as Luke, Grace, his wife and her boss, Matt Levinson.

  Drake told them everything about EC Gym but not giving away his past connection with Andrew Tabler. Barry kept shaking his head unable to suppress snorts and disbelieving chuckles.

  “Where the hell did this guy come from? He’s got some balls doing this to you.” Barry looked at some of the documents spread on the conference table. He ran his hand over his short cropped hair ending with rubbing the back of his neck. “Or he’s really desperate. I’ll need to go through all these papers.”

  Matt and Gracie poured over some of the books Caius had willingly given.

  “What a mess,” Matt said under his breath before whistling. “But I second Barry. At face value ˗˗˗”

  “They look okay,” Gracie spoke.

  Matt nodded. “Or he must have a really creative book chef.”

  “A what?” Drake stared at him blankly.

  Gracie chuckled. “Someone who cooks the books.”

  “Makes it look legit when it really isn’t,” Luke said. He was seated beside Gracie and he raised their linked her hands and kissed her fingers.

  Drake grunted. “Harvey’s taken a lot of the money and I mean a lot. Most of it was the pension fund I put up for my fighters. Health insurance included. It’s a hard sport and injuries can be permanent. I don’t want to leave them without anything to fall back on when they can no longer fight.”

  “Did he say how much?” Rouen arched a blond brow.

  “No, he didn’t.” Drake shook his head, his face grim. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s enough to put a huge dent on the gym’s finances.”

  Rouen’s head made an almost indecipherable nod. “Which you easily recoup with the diversified portfolio you have with me and you playing the stock market. Hmmm…and you want me here because?”

  “If push comes to shove, I might have to let go of my Bridgewater flat.”

  Everyone fell silent. Even the muffled sounds from outside the conference room seemed to die down.

  “You can’t do that.” Luke was emphatic. It was enough for him to let go of Gracie’s hand, to brace his arms against the table and pin Drake with a glare. “Kieran and Oliver aren’t here for all of us to discuss this.”

  “I know that.” Drake’s voice was flat. “Call it a heads-up.”

  “Whatever you call it, I won’t agree.” Luke’s face hardened. “I’m not comfortable having someone we don’t know owning one of the lofts.”

  “It’s not your choice to make, Luke.” Drake replied easily, but inside he was annoyed. He needed to get them to his side. “Vet possible investors and take it from there.”

  “Not even.”

  “Since Kieran and Oliver aren’t here and I don’t want this to escalate to a verbal slugfest, Luke, let it go. It’s Drake’s decision.” Rouen interjected. “Drake, pipe down. Let’s agree to disagree. Barry can check on the documents, Gracie and Matt the books. Clear?” He had a sangfroid glare that looked as ominous as it was nonchalant.

  Luke leaned back on his chair, still with a scowl on his face. Still Drake could see the concern lurking in his friend’s eyes. That made the right side of his mouth twitch in acceptance. He nodded rubbing his palms over his tired eyes.

  What a clusterfuck.

  Now, Drake was leaning against his car waiting. He was pissed. He was amused. He was starting to become all kinds of crazy because of Bethany. The blinds in the upper floor moved. His lips kicked up in a grin and soft laughter rumbled up his chest at the guilty jerk of the blinds falling back in place.

  He checked his Omega Speedmaster and made himself comfortable against his AMG. Blinds blanketed every white framed window keeping Bethany’s secrets away from the public. On each sill was a terra cotta flower box with some buds dotting the cold soil. Soon it would become a profusion of sweet gentle colour he associated with her. A cherry blossom tree dominated the front yard, and a huge vase stood sentinel by the entrance door.

  “I’m going to wait for you, Bee,” he vowed under his breath. “even if we’re in the brink of nuclear Armageddon.”

  It only took a moment for him to realize Bethany was playing a game, taking her sweet time preparing to return to the hospital and hoping he’d be gone when she was done.

  Not a fucking chance in hell.

  He shook his head in wry amusement. This was no different from a stare down. Had she taken a shower? Did the steam from the bathroom escape through the door? Did she smell as good as he remembered? His lips flattened when he pictured her in all her naked glory and had to adjust his junk. He burned for her. Desired her. Coveted her. It was enough to keep him hot and horny despite the cold air’s efforts to freeze his ass.

  Wanting to hear her voice, he rang her again. She answered after two rings.

  “Mum, I’m still in the shower.” Her voice echoed.

  His cock stirred.

  “If you open the door, I can join you and scrub your back?” His voice was low, husky. His imagination was heading towards meltdown.

  �
��Drake!” The shower stopped. Fuck. Bethany didn’t need to allow him in. He was willing to kick the door down and put his arms around her wet body.

  “I’m still waiting, Bee.”

  “I didn’t expect you to,” Bethany said before Drake heard water once more.

  Drake groaned.

  “Are you alright?” she asked, her tone amused. “You sound like you’re in pain.”

  Bloody fuck, his Bee was stirring his body and she didn’t even know it.

  Or did she?

  “Baby, you’re killing me talking to me while you’re in the shower,” he replied at the same time adjusting the front of his slacks. The zipper was eating into his dick. A dog walker passed by deliberately averting his gaze. Drake turned away from the street and looked up at the overcast sky. It was starting to drizzle again. “How long will you take?”

  “As long as I want.”

  Sassy.

  He groaned again. “Have a heart, Bethany.”

  Her soft laughter mingled with the sound of water cascading down her naked body was trying his resolve and straining his dick.

  “You can wait or you can go.”

  “Bloody hell.” He rubbed his hand over his face, the stubble on his jaw rasping his slightly callused palm. “Where’s my Bee? What have you done to her?”

  He meant it as a joke. They used to joke a lot but he was met with silence. “Bee?”

  He heard the shower running.

  “Bethany.”

  Silence.

  “Hello?”

  “Do you remember our old house?” Her voice was soft. He squirmed crossing his ankles. Wrong move. The old terraced house where Bethany lived filled his mind.

  “Yeah.”

  “I keep the key in a similar place.” Bethany ended the call.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Drake pocketed his phone. His brow pulled together, deep in thought.

  He didn’t like the fact that he couldn’t control the situation. It wasn’t that he wanted Bethany to remain the way he remembered her either because he liked the change. Loved her sass. Shy Bee. Sultry Bethany. She was hotter than fire in her burlesque get up. Her legs were shapely, long and he wanted to feel them around his waist while he thrust into her.