Authors: Laura Browning
Another bourbon appeared in front of him. “And I suppose you think you’re my father confessor now?”
Phillip grabbed a couple cocktail peanuts from the bowl in front of them, popped them in his mouth and began chewing. “No priest here. That was Mom’s suggestion for me since I was the youngest male Barlow-Barrett, but I nixed the idea pretty fast. No, Bran, I just want to help.”
A faint flush stained Phillip’s cheekbones. Brandon swallowed, his throat tight. “Have I really been so bad?”
“Like a wounded grizzly? A pissed-off wolverine? Nah…it hasn’t been so bad.”
Brandon started to smile and lifted his gaze to the mirror behind the bar while he raised his glass to sip the smooth, amber liquid. He froze. Walking into the dimly lit bar was Lucy, dressed in a form-fitting green dress that showed off all her curves, and heels that made the eyes of every male in the bar gravitate to her legs and ass. Behind her was Mason Hatch.
“Fuck me.”
“Huh?”
Seeing his brother start to turn his head, Brandon growled, “Don’t look. Damn it. It’s her with him.”
“Okay Brandon, not one of your more erudite moments.” Phillip didn’t quite manage to smother a snicker and Brandon glared at him through narrowed eyes.
“Lucy Cameron. The woman I met in Colorado. The woman in the plane crash with me. The woman I…” He managed to stop right before he uttered the word
love
. God, she looked beautiful. She had looked lovely at the hospital. Now she was stunning.
And she was with Mason Hatch.
“She’s with Mason Hatch,” Phillip observed.
Brandon gritted his teeth, barely suppressing a
duh
.
“Do you think she’s
with him
with him?”
Now he ground his teeth together. The thought had snuck into his brain too. His temper flared. She’d said she loved him. Had she cast him off with such ease? Brandon downed the rest of his bourbon, intent on confronting them. When he started to push to his feet, Phillip clapped a hand onto his shoulder and shoved him onto the stool again.
“Think, Brandon!” Phillip hissed. “The COO of Barrett Newspapers can’t start a fucking bar brawl, and you know that’s what it would become. You know Mason.”
“That’s the problem. I do know him. He picks women up and throws them away like paper plates at a company picnic. Lucy…” Brandon’s voice dwindled to a whisper. “He’ll hurt her.”
Phillip’s glass slapped the polished wood of the bar with a thunk. “You love her. Jesus, Brandon. You’re in
love
with her?”
He tossed back the refill the bartender had slid his way. “I thought I was. What I loved doesn’t exist.”
* * * *
Right when they entered the bar, the skin on the back of Lucy’s neck tingled. She hesitated, and Mason was right there behind her with a casual hand at the small of her back.
“Is anything wrong?” he asked.
She scanned the room, but didn’t see anything. “No. Just nervous, I guess.”
He smiled at her. “Let’s get a table and have a drink while we get business out of the way.”
Lucy couldn’t shake the feeling she was under scrutiny. In the years she’d danced at Flamingo Road, she had never encountered anyone who could identify her as Jasmine LeFleur outside of the club. Part of her anonymity, she was sure, was due to the fact she slathered on the stage makeup at work, and outside of it always kept her makeup tasteful and minimal. The other factor was she seldom socialized or went anywhere she might encounter people who’d seen her act. Even exercising at the Y, she was careful to keep to herself and tried to hit the weight room when she was least likely to encounter men. However, an upscale restaurant like this meant all bets were off. Flamingo Road had always drawn a high-class clientele.
“What would you like to drink?” a white-coated waiter asked.
“A glass of merlot,” Lucy murmured. Mason ordered a dry martini. After the waiter returned with drinks, Mason pulled the paperwork out of his jacket pocket with a grin.
“I hate briefcases, so I try to keep contracts short and sweet. Page one outlines our responsibilities to you as an artist. Page two defines what you agree to provide us along with the terms and timing of payment. Take your time looking it over.”
Lucy tried to concentrate, she did, but it was so difficult. The problem wasn’t the language of the contract, which was straightforward like she had found Mason to be. No, the problem was the feeling of being watched that she couldn’t shake. Mason had to think she was the world’s slowest reader by the time she finished it and murmured, “Everything seems to be in order.”
When he handed her a pen, Lucy glanced toward the bar. Her breath caught in shock as she met Brandon’s reserved gaze in the mirror over the bar. She noted he was seated with another blond man who bore a remarkable resemblance to him. The pen fell from her hand.
“Lucy?” Mason touched her hand in concern. “What’s the matter?”
His head started to turn, so she put her hand on his arm to stop him. “It’s someone I know. Don’t look.”
Mason halted and returned his gaze to hers. “From your work?”
“No.” Lucy stared at her hands. “Someone I’m…I was…involved with.”
He covered her hand with his. “We can go somewhere else if you’d like.”
She shook her head. “No. I suppose it was naive to think I would never run into him.” Squaring her shoulders, she took a sip of her wine, then picked the pen up again, proud her hand was steady. She had just finished signing her name above Mason’s when she heard his hissed expletive.
“The someone you’re talking about wouldn’t happen to be Brandon Barrett would it?” Her expression must have told him the answer. “Jesus, Lucy. Where did you meet him?”
She caught his gaze with hers and held it. “In Colorado.”
“
You’re
the woman who survived the crash with him?” His glance slid to the two men at the bar. “You saved his ass and he doesn’t speak to you?” There was a world of outrage in Mason’s quiet voice.
“It’s complicated.” His eyes narrowed and she swallowed. “Mason, he didn’t remember anything…including me.”
He touched her cheek with his fingertips. “Let me take you someplace else.” He was already signaling to the waiter for a check.
“No. Look. Can we go into the dining room to eat? I refuse to make it appear I’m running away.” She sighed. “I already did that earlier.”
The waiter appeared at Mason’s side.
“If our table is available, we’re ready to dine.”
“Of course, sir. Let me make sure and I’ll be right back.”
Mason’s dark gaze narrowed on her. “Tell me what you want me to do. If you need a shield, I can provide one.” His smile was disarming. “Instant boyfriend, at your service. In fact, I’m onboard for anything that will piss that family off.”
Lucy darted a look at the two men at the bar. Brandon’s gaze was no longer reserved, it was hostile. She thought of the innocent touches on the arm, Mason’s fingers on her cheek. “I don’t think you need to do anything, Mason. He already looks like he could rip my head off. Yours too, for that matter.”
Mason chuckled. “You know, I went to school with him.”
“Some Ivy League bastion of learning, I’m sure.”
“Well, yes. But I was there on scholarships and loans. Daddy forked out his tuition.”
Lucy smiled. “If you were a woman, that comment would be bitchy.”
Mason arched a brow. “If I were a woman, I wouldn’t be as interested in how you hold your dress up, in a purely academic way of course.”
A discreet cough and the waiter said, “Your table is ready, Mr. Hatch.”
Lucy braced herself for Brandon’s scrutiny after she stood. When Mason stepped to her side and placed his hand on the small of her back, she raised her chin. What right did Brandon have to glare at her? She wasn’t the one who’d looked right through him earlier at the hospital. For a second, she held Brandon’s gaze, then turned to Mason and smiled.
* * * *
“Bitch,” Phillip muttered. “You’re well rid of her, bro.”
Brandon swirled what remained of his bourbon without saying anything. He couldn’t help remembering what she’d been like in Colorado, couldn’t believe it was all a put-on. For a split second, he would even have sworn he saw pain in her beautiful gray eyes. But then he’d watched Mason’s hand resting just above the curve of her ass, and anger surged. He swallowed the rest of his drink.
“Let’s go grab something to eat somewhere a little less formal. Staying will only piss me off. Lucy and I are through. It’s history.”
Chapter 13
Lucy called Roberto’s cellphone the following morning after she felt sure he was awake. That was still early because she also knew he was anything but a late sleeper.
“Lucy! How wonderful to hear from you. Are you feeling better?”
She laughed. “You are a dog, Roberto.”
“
Querida
! How can you say such a thing?”
“You give me names of people to see…for my head and my heart…then talk to them yourself before I can even get there.”
“But it has worked for you?”
“Although I suspect you already know the answer… Yes, it’s helped. Angelina is as she is named. And I signed a contract with Mason last night.”
“Ah, so your days dancing for me are numbered.”
“I would like to cut back to Friday and Saturday nights. I’ll start this Friday. I want to return to work now I’ve made the decision.”
“I will not say no. The customers have missed you. We have missed you.”
“Then expect me Friday.”
When she hung up, she couldn’t believe how much lighter she felt for just having made decisions in different areas of her life. Maybe that had been part of the problem all along. She had wandered around without direction. Sure, she’d gotten a masters degree, but rather than try to either do something with it or her art, she had drifted along. Okay, there was a certain lure to pulling in a six-figure a year income, and exotic dancers did have a rather limited career life, kind of like professional athletes except it was gravity, not injury that most often sidelined a stripper.
Now she had more to look forward to. Mason had spent time over dinner talking to her about marketing her pottery. She had discovered that while his conversation was about business, Mason Hatch was a very tactile person. He touched her hand, her cheek. When they left the restaurant, he’d kept his hand at her back. He tried to talk her into going dancing, but she’d declined. Brandon was the last person she’d danced with, and she thought it would stir too many memories. So Mason had brought her home…and tried to kiss her at the door. He’d taken her refusal in stride, grinning at her.
“You can’t blame a guy for trying. You might have said yes.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
He’d taken her hand in his, rubbing it with his thumb. “I am your friend. If you need more, I can be that too. Whatever you need, Lucy.” His smile had been sincere, even sweet.
“You know, Mason,” she’d observed, “I get the feeling your interest would be less in me than in getting back at someone else.”
He’d smiled, but she’d seen the shadows in his dark eyes.
Lucy shook her head, remembering the evening. Mason was easy to be around. He was handsome, but he wasn’t Brandon, and even though she had made the decision to move on with her life, it didn’t mean she was ready to move to another relationship. Lucy wasn’t sure she would ever be ready. She swallowed as a vision of Brandon’s unconscious, bloodied face flashed before her eyes. She wouldn’t risk herself like that again. It had been too painful.
She put the remaining time until she returned to Flamingo Road to good use, working like a fiend in her studio. Deciding she would get the dishes done first, she completed plates and bowls, mugs and saucers, moving them to drying racks after they dried enough to be removed from the bats. Before they dried, she did whatever trimming needed to be done. In between work in her studio, Lucy kept to her schedule of running, swimming and lifting.
By Friday afternoon, she was happy with the work she’d accomplished and ready to return to Flamingo Road. She had missed her coworkers, Roberto and Tiffany too. Those two were more than coworkers, they were friends. She knew when she did leave Flamingo Road, she would miss them.
Pulling into the parking lot that evening felt almost like coming home. The building was still empty. Even though she went on stage later in the night, Lucy liked to arrive in plenty of time to relax and spend time stretching out and limbering up. Only when she had, did she sit down to apply stage makeup. From backstage, she could hear the club begin to fill, and the throb of the music intensify. She would perform three times during the evening.
Tiffany stopped in while Lucy was at the small practice room in the rear. She had her foot on the barre and was stretching her hamstrings.
“Welcome back, sugar. We sure did miss you around here. Roberto’s been a bear.”
Lucy dropped her foot to the ground and gave Tiffany a hug. “I am glad to be here, Tiffany. I am cutting my hours, just Friday and Saturday nights, but Roberto says he’s cool with that.”