Lost in a Stallion's Arms (Kimani Romance)

by Deborah Fletcher Mello

  Joanne bristled, her expression voicing her irritation. “Thanks for the tip, Daddy. I’ll get right on that.”

  Completely oblivious, her father smiled, taking a step toward her. He placed his hands on her shoulders, pulling her to him as he wrapped her in a warm hug.

  “Take care of yourself, Joanne.”

  Her eyes closed, Joanne pressed her face into her father’s chest. “I love you, Daddy.”

  Kissing her forehead, Dr. Lake moved back to the door. “I’ll call you soon. Okay?”

  Nodding, Joanne sauntered behind him. “Goodbye, Daddy.”

  Even before she could close the door behind him, tears had misted behind Joanne’s eyelids. She wiped at the moisture with the heel of her hand. She refused to cry, adamant that she would not shed one single tear over her father. She’d been wasting tears on the man for too many years.

  Reaching for the envelope he’d dropped onto her coffee table, Joanne didn’t bother to look inside, hardly interested in the newly purchased stock she knew to be detailed inside. Joanne had little interest in the many investments her father had made on her behalf, the man believing that such would afford Joanne the only security she would ever need. Moving into the kitchen, she pulled open the silverware drawer and dropped the mailer inside, along with the other forty or so unopened envelopes hidden behind her few spoons and forks.

  Dr. Charles Lake had been trying to buy her affections since she’d been six years old when he had won sole custody of her from her actress mother. Lillian Taylor, beaten and broken from the nasty legal battle he’d waged, had crossed an ocean to put as much space between her and him as she could. Leaving had garnered her more alone time with her only child than staying for a few hours of weekly visitation ever would have. The doctor had tried to buy that away from them, too, but his money hadn’t been able to get him everything he’d wanted.

  Joanne’s father was a man who assessed his entire life by his material wealth. He didn’t consider himself accomplished if he wasn’t making money and more money. He’d come from money, his parents affording him the best of everything with their oil ventures. His father had insisted he go to medical school. As a little girl, Joanne remembered him having a thriving surgical practice. Business had kept him away more than it had kept him home. When she’d complained, there had always been a new toy to appease her.

  Joanne had wanted for very little. What she’d been desperate for was time and attention, the two things her father never seemed to have for her. The day Joanne had turned eighteen, she’d made the decision to live her life very differently from her father’s life. Attending design school on the West Coast had afforded her much anonymity. Returning to Dallas, but far from her father, had kept her under the radar.

  Very few of her own friends and associates knew anything about her, and Joanne was determined to keep it that way. She’d had a pampered and privileged upbringing, and now she wanted her life to be more about helping those who were much less fortunate.

  A few years ago the good Dr. Lake had laid down his scalpel, giving up medicine altogether. Building upon his own father’s initial investments had become his new goal of choice. Bonding with his daughter hadn’t yet made his list of things to do.

  Even at the age of six, Joanne had understood that her mother staying would have left them both damaged beyond repair. Her father’s bitterness toward his ex-wife was palpable. The man had thrived on his resentment. He and his money would have made their lives a living hell, so instead, Joanne frequently flew to Paris to spend time with her mom. The two women eventually built a thriving relationship that her father hadn’t been able to tarnish with the money he tossed around like water.

  Thinking of her mother, Joanne suddenly had the urge to hear her voice and to ask her advice about men, one man in particular. Taking a quick glance at the grandfather clock on the far wall she realized that with the time difference, a call would be wasted since Lillian would be in the theater, readying herself to perform the lead role in the stage production of Carmen. Joanne decided she would call her mother later. Just maybe, she thought, she might be able to maneuver her schedule and fly to France for an extended weekend. Mother’s Day was just around the corner, and it would make for a nice surprise.

  Returning to her bedroom, she reached for the new chocolate-brown skirt she’d purchased from Ashley Stewart, the skirt having won the debate with her tailored black slacks. The top would be one of her own designs, a form fitting V-neck shirt in a bold, animal print. Brown suede ankle boots would complete the look. Minutes later, pressed, pampered and perfumed, Joanne headed out the door, excited and anxious to see Luke Stallion again.

  When Joanne arrived at the Tom Cat Club, parking her car a good distance from the front entrance, her nerves were a tangled mess. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the warm evening air. Taking one last look at her reflection in the rearview mirror, she dabbed a light coat of tinted lip gloss to her lips.

  She didn’t have a clue what to expect, not wanting to imagine the friends that might be with Luke. She only hoped that none of them recognized her or knew her father. She wasn’t ready for Luke Stallion to know so much about her personal life.

  What she did want, though, was to spend more time with Luke, to get to know him better. Joanne was anxious to discover whether there was truly more to him than met the eye. The man excited Joanne, and she’d been fighting it with everything she had in her, but there was no denying the attraction between them. On the surface, Luke Stallion represented what she disliked most about her own father. But clearly there was something to that man that had her intrigued.

  There were two bouncers at the door of the Tom Cat Club, both looking like oversized Buddhas busting out of too-small, pin-striped suits. One had a clipboard in his large hand, only allowing admittance as the moment moved him. Joanne assessed the long line of partygoers hoping to be allowed inside. The women were all stylishly underdressed, the men elaborately overdressed. They were a pretty crowd of Dallas’s young elite, mixing and mingling like an assortment of sweet confections. She didn’t waste any energy with the end of the line, strutting boldly straight to the front door.

  Buddha Number One gave her a smug look, eyeing her from head to toe. Joanne knew instantly that she didn’t fit the profile of the size 0 beauties in short-short, low-cut attire that typically got in without a hassle. But Joanne was hardly intimidated. She eyed both the Buddhas with disdain.

  “May we help you?” Buddha Number Two asked, his soft voice seeming out of place for his massive size.

  Joanne smiled sweetly. “I’m meeting Luke Stallion. My name’s Joanne.”

  Buddha Number One chuckled. “You’re meeting Mr. Stallion? And we’re supposed to believe that?”

  Joanne’s eyes narrowed to thin slits. “I don’t much care what you believe. Check your list.”

  The man fingered the document clipped to his clipboard, not bothering to even glance down at it. “I don’t see a Joanne on the guest list,” he said snidely.

  Joanne reached into her purse and pulled her state-issued ID and a small photograph of her and her father from her wallet. She passed it to the man. “Look again,” she said sternly.

  Both men eyed the documents quickly, then passed them back to her.

  “Miss Lake, our apology,” Buddha Number One said as he reached for the velvet rope that cordoned off the entrance from the general public. “Please, go right on in,” the man said, waving her inside.

  Before heading through the door, Joanne turned from one to the other, her expression stern. “I really don’t like either one of you, but if you two want to keep your jobs, you don’t know me, is that clear?” she said, her tone firm.

  The Buddha nodded his thick neck. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Enjoy your evening,” the second man echoed.

  Her sweet smiling returning, Joanne brushed past them both. Before the club’s front door was closed behind her she heard a potential partygoer complaining about her cutting
the line. The response echoed harshly behind her.

  “What do you want from me? Ownership has its privileges.”

  The nightclub was filled to capacity. Pretty people filled tables, the dance floor, the length of the bar and crowded the aisle Joanne walked to enter the main party room. Inside, the décor was minimalistic, simple black tables and black chairs with a black-and-white checked floor. The lighting was dim and seductive, and bright white balloons and vibrant red streamers crowded the ceiling.

  They were playing reggae, the music beckoning to her as bass drums vibrated within the concealed speakers in the walls. Iridescent lights flickered above her head, and the smell of sweat mingled with a mélange of perfumes and colognes. Around her, bodies were gyrating and twisting with the music, the couples lost in the beat of their own rhythms.

  Even with the crowd, there was no missing Luke Stallion, the man’s commanding presence filling the room. Joanne saw him before he saw her as he stood in conversation with two other young, well-dressed men. She stood watching him curiously, appreciating him from afar. The brother was dressed nicely, a silk suit in a pale shade of gray fitting him nicely. He was leaning back on one hip, his hands pushed casually into the pockets of his slacks. He was animated, energy seeping from his pores, and Joanne was suddenly thankful that she’d decided to come.

  As she continued watching him, she couldn’t miss the too-cute female who sauntered to his side mid-conversation to whisper into his ear. The woman was svelte with a close-cropped bob, a milky complexion and bright eyes begging for attention. Luke nodded his head as he listened to whatever it was she was telling him, a wry smile pulling at his mouth. As if to make her point, the too-cute female pressed a manicured hand to his chest, drawing it slowly down to his abdomen and around his waist. A wave of something that felt like jealousy rippled over Joanne’s spirit.

  Shaking her head slightly, Joanne contemplated turning around and going back home. Clearly the man had enough friends to keep him company, so he probably wouldn’t even notice if she didn’t show up. But she couldn’t pull herself from where she stood as she continued watching him and the young woman, who was clearly eager for his time. Her mind was almost made up when Luke caught sight of her, his eyes focused straight in her direction. His wry smile pulled into a full grin.

  As the two locked gazes, a rush of heat flushed Joanne’s face with color. She inhaled deeply to stall the quiver of butterflies that suddenly danced deep in her abdomen. Before she could form a coherent thought, the man had excused himself from the group, extracting himself from the other woman’s grip, and was striding eagerly in her direction. Joanne could feel herself grinning back as his wide smile greeted her warmly.

  “Hey, you!” Luke yelled over the din of music and loud conversations bouncing off the deep red walls. “I was afraid you weren’t going to show up!” He leaned in close to her, pressing his cheek next to hers as he whispered loudly into her ear. His hands rested lightly against her waist, his fingers heating her flesh through her clothes.

  Joanne inhaled swiftly. “Why’s that?” she answered, forcing herself to take a step back away from his touch. “I told you I would meet you.”

  Luke shrugged. “I know, but I didn’t do a great job of letting you know how badly I wanted you here. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d changed your mind.” Luke reached for her hand, pressing his fingers between hers. “I have a table over there for us.”

  Leading her past the throng of revelers, Luke guided her across the room to a corner table some distance from the dance floor, the bar and the wealth of noise. It wasn’t nearly as loud as the lower level they’d just passed, making it easier for the two of them to hold a conversation.

  “So, where are your friends?” Joanne asked as he pulled out a chair for her to sit in.

  Luke moved to the other side of the table and sat down. He smiled, a smug expression washing over his face. “I was thinking you’re the only friend I wanted to spend time with tonight. I didn’t get the impression that you would have come if you thought it would only be you and me here.”

  Joanne crossed her arms over her chest, eyeing him with some reservation. She hated to admit that he was probably right. She’d been more than ready for some group activity. The very thought of him and her spending time one-on-one would have made her too nervous. Nevertheless, there they were.

  Joanne met his gaze, the deep stare shooting heat straight to her southern quadrant. A sly smile pulled at his mouth, and she couldn’t stop herself from smiling back. “This amuses you, doesn’t it?” she said, chuckling softly.

  Luke nodded. “You amuse me. You’re a hard woman to read, Joanne Lake, and you’ve really been giving me a run for my money.”

  Joanne laughed. “You don’t say.”

  The man nodded. “So, are we friends now?”

  She shrugged. “We’ll see,” she answered, her eyebrows raised ever so slightly. “I’ll let you know when the night is over.”

  Conversation flowed like water. Joanne found herself enjoying the laughter that billowed warmly in the air between them. Luke had taken the liberty of ordering dinner before her arrival, and within minutes of their sitting down, a waiter was serving them a spectacular meal of lobster ravioli with a chocolate soufflé for dessert. Between them they polished off a bottle of very expensive wine, and Joanne found herself falling head over heels into a state of blissful relaxation.

  Luke couldn’t stop himself from staring at her. Dropping into the dark depths of her gaze, he felt as if he’d found something that had been lost to him since forever. The emotion was startling and comforting at the same time. As they sat in deep discussion, enjoying the meal and the company, he marveled at how easily he was able to open up to her.

  Joy spilled out of her eyes as they talked about the center and her business. He marveled at the glow that shone in her face. She spoke passionately about her love for her work and the families she’d come to care for. Time flew as they became acquainted with one another. Luke found himself talking a lot about his life and asking question after question about hers.

  “One of the ladies at the center was telling me that you live near the center with your mother. Were you raised in that area?”

  Joanne paused, a lie threatening to spill past her lips. She evaded the question instead. “I was raised here and there, nowhere special.”

  “You don’t like talking about yourself, do you?”

  “There’s not much to talk about.” She smiled. “Besides, I’m enjoying talking about you more.”

  He leaned back in his seat, folding his hands in his lap as he studied her expression. “So, what else can I tell you? What do you want to know about me? I’m an open book, so ask away.”

  A glint of mischief danced in Joanne’s eyes. She leaned forward, her elbows propped on the table as she dropped her chin against the back of her cupped hands.

  “How many stamps do you have in your passport?”

  “Not enough.”

  “Have you ever had sex on a first date?”

  “No.”

  “Never?”

  Luke smirked. “Never, but I’ve had sex on a few last dates.”

  Joanne chuckled, shaking her head. “That’s so wrong in so many ways.”

  “Never said I was a Boy Scout. What’s the next question?”

  Joanne paused for a brief moment. “What’s your definition of foreplay?”

  The man’s eyes widened in surprise. He suddenly laughed, mirth rising out of his midsection and flooding his entire body. He laughed hard, the intensity of it moving him to tears. He pressed the cloth napkin in his lap to the corner of his eyes, dabbing at the moisture that had clouded his vision. “That was a good one!”

  Joanne laughed with him. “I know. So answer the question.”

  Luke nodded. “Wow! My definition of foreplay,” he repeated, enthralled by the energy that spun from her eyes. Pausing, Joanne could see his mind racing for an answer. “Why don’t I just show you,” he s
aid finally, lifting himself from his seat and extending his hand in her direction.

  Joanne was clearly curious as Luke entwined his fingers between hers and pulled her to her feet. She couldn’t help but follow behind him as he led her back to the front of the nightclub and the dance floor, which was jam-packed with couples shimmying hot against each other.

  The music had a rich Caribbean flavor, calypso beats with a hard bass line. One couldn’t help but be moved by the pulsating tones. Pushing his way to the center of the crowd and a small area of empty floor space, Luke turned to face her, his shoulders starting to bounce in time with the music. He raised his arms to chest level, his large hands clasped into tight fists, his torso waving from side to side. Taking a step toward her, his pelvis gyrated seductively, his hips swaying for attention. His eyes were locked on hers, and Joanne could feel herself falling fast into the stare he was giving her.

  Joanne began to gyrate her own hips. She danced slowly at first, her body moving instinctively with his. Moving with him was intoxicating. Heat was rising quickly between them, and Joanne suddenly wanted to strip right out of her clothes in exchange for a rush of cool air. When Luke took another step closer, his pelvis meeting hers as his hands fell to her waist, pulling her to him, Joanne thought she could easily pass out from the sudden rush of emotion that flooded through her.

  The man was moving against her, his gyrations tight and precise. Joanne couldn’t remember when her arms had swept up and around his shoulders until she became aware of her fingers lightly caressing the nape of his neck. Their bodies were pressed so tightly together it was as if they were one unit instead of two. Then Luke pulled some fancy footwork on her, spinning her around so that her back was against his chest as he pushed himself against her buttocks. Unable to resist, Joanne gyrated with him, savoring the sensation of his rock-hard frame kissing the cushion of her soft curves. She raised her arms over her head, her fingers snapping in time to the music. Dancing against him like a stripper on a mission, she lowered herself to floor level and slithered back again, her body never losing contact with his.