What Lola Wants (London Dolls Book 1) (6 page)

Creeping through the large, open living-dining area, she admired the sparkling white kitchen set off by a long bar with high stools. Jane had given her a brief tour of the three bedrooms, two baths, and laundry room the night before, but she hadn’t really taken it all in. “Wow, this is some place.” A home better suited to a young professional than her artsy friend. Though the junk piled in the room she’d slept in last night probably housed all the glittery clutter her friend usually adored about the place.

“Why, thank you.”

Jane was awake? So much for the sneaky trip to the bathroom.

She twirled. “Where did you come from?”

Jane pulled her auburn hair into a scruffy bun. “I was about to take a shower when I heard footsteps. I figured it’d be you.” Jane yawned. “So, you like my place? I had Dennis decorate for me before I moved in, tried to go for a more grown-up feel. I’ll add a pink crystal chandelier when I find the perfect one.” Jane retrieved a ceramic mug from a sleek glass coffee table and took a swig. “Sleep well?” Decked out in candy-colored sweats and a smile, Jane’s perky attitude seemed unnatural considering the sun hadn’t risen yet.

The sweet, warming aromas of fresh coffee and cake wrapped Louisa in homecoming comforts and eased her tension.

“Sort of, but one of your baked delights would help wake me. And a scrub in cold water.” Louisa stretched her arms toward the ceiling and yawned.

“Was it the bed? It’s new, so maybe a little stiff?”

“I have a lot on my mind. And even with the double glazing, the cars zooming past kept me from falling into a deep rest.”

“Yeah, London doesn’t sleep. You’ll get used to that again. Here, grab some coffee and a fairy cake.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

She pushed her suitcase farther behind the huge sofa to keep it out the way for now, then grabbed one of the baked goodies topped with fondant icing and wrapped in a pink paper baking cup from the coffee table. Biting into the fluffy sponge, she savored the melt-in-your-mouth treat. The cake was vanilla’d perfectly, and the topping so very creamy, but it was sized far too small to stop at just one. Delish. Devouring the first, she went straight for another then washed them down with smooth, French-press coffee. “I’ve missed your breakfasts.”

“You’re still piggy, I see.” Jane cocked her hip and rolled her eyes. “I’ll need to go shopping if I have any hope of keeping up with your appetite.”

“Oh, I have something for you.” Louisa shoved a third treat in her gob—the beauty of fairy cakes versus cupcakes; they’re smaller—then raced to the room she would call home until she got on her feet and could afford her own place. She rummaged through her bag and dug out the performance programs she’d saved from each of her shows.

She returned to the living room and handed them to Jane. “I got these signed by the casts for your collection.” Glancing at the concrete polished floor, words stalled and caught in the back of her throat. How could she articulate everything in two seconds flat without sounding foolish or have her friend call her a deserter?

Jane poked her. “Do you remember when I started hoarding programs?”

“When we managed to get backstage and that hunky dancer signed your torn memorabilia. What were we? Fourteen?”

She nodded. “Wasn’t he delish in those tights?” A faraway haze washed through Jane’s eyes and she sighed. “And boy those thigh muscles were thick…” She sighed again.

“I bet you still moon over his photograph and dream of those masculine leaps of his.”

Jane chucked the stack of glossy papers on the sofa and threw her arms around Louisa, squeezing her. “You know me so well. Oh, how I’ve missed you.”

“Jane?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been a good friend to you. It felt weird calling you, thinking Al might be listening.”

“He was that wacko?”

Louisa nodded. “Because of him, I haven’t been in touch with anyone for a long while.”

“Well, if he shows his face here, I’ll sort him out.” Her friend let out a Miss Piggy style attack sound. “Show him what for.”

“You’ll show him what for, huh?”

Jane pulled back a touch and laughed before hugging her tighter still. “I’m so glad you’re home now, even if it’s just for a little while.”

“I don’t think I want to go back,” Louisa blurted. “I can’t believe I let Al play me like a damned puppet.” Relief coursed through her as she spilled the darkest secrets she’d held close to her heart for so long. “He was never there for me emotionally. And hell, I don’t even enjoy performing anymore. I have no joy in my life anymore, Jane.”

“It’s okay.” Jane patted her shoulder. “You can stay here as long as you like.”

Tears pooled in Louisa’s eyes. She nuzzled into Jane’s soft sweater and released the sobs she’d held in for weeks—months even. “Never going back. Never.” She sniffled.

“Oh, sweetie.” Jane ended the embrace then glided across her flashy home—high ceilings and bare brick walls—and parked on a barstool. “Let’s get down to the nitty-gritty stuff. Been bloody worried about you. What the hell has been happening over the last four months? Give me the dirt.”

“Long story.”

“Pull up a chair and tell me everything. Last I heard, you’d broken up with Al, got back with him, and then broke up with him again.”

“Cliff notes version?”

“No, full whack on high speed. Give it to me straight.” She pointed to her drink. “You want another?”

Louisa nodded. “Al wanted to yank my principle position from under my feet and give it to his new bit of stuff when I dumped him for the last time. With all the crap he’d given me, I finally snapped and saw him for what he was.”

“And why didn’t you tell me this, I might have been able to help?”

“I couldn’t phone, I think Al had it bugged or something. He always knew where I’d be, and the last thing I wanted was to drag you into my mess.”

“You should probably ditch it, get a new one.”

She nodded. “Already done. I don’t know how the hell Al managed to track me. I’m done with him choreographing my life. No more. He doesn’t have the new number, so he can’t bug me about coming back to the company. I’m a free agent, so to speak.”

“Thank goodness you finally saw through his possessive, albeit cute, arse. Honey, how long did you put up with him? Ten years?” Jane dashed around the breakfast bar.

Louisa nodded. “Yes, pretty much. Ten long years. I’m a sucker for a man in tights who knows how to take charge. And boy, could he spin me with his dreamy Italian accent and flashy spending habits. Now, he gives me the shivers. And not in a good way.” Louisa parked herself on a barstool and leaned on the counter, the granite surface cold against her arms. The harsh reality sank in. She had let Al abuse and control her because she was greedy for fame, and she’d enjoyed Al’s attention at first. “I’m to blame for the mess of my life. After all, I’d planned on using Al to get to the top of the company, and his attention flattered me. I got my just deserts.”

“Thank goodness you reported him to the police. Crazy dude stealing your money. I’m curious to find out how he managed that.” Jane whipped up a fresh batch of pink frosting and piped sugary goodness over the little treats. “I know what you need.”

“A winning lottery ticket?”

“That would be nice,” Jane said. “But, no.”

“A supernatural ability to spot the good-for-nothing men from the ones who actually give a damn about other people besides themselves?”

“No.”

“A bodyguard? A Clue? A Chris Hemsworth look-a-like?”

“Nope. Though I’ll take the last suggestion if you have one going. No, what you need is to dance.”

“At The Doll House, I’m guessing?”

Jane beamed. “Hell, yes. Even if it’s a short-term thing. Say you open on Friday to give you a few days to learn a routine. You could earn up to three hundred quid depending on how many seats are filled, maybe even get a regular gig out of it. And you can stay here until you’re on your feet.”

“There’s one problem. I can’t striptease. You saw me. And when I’m on that stage, all I can think about is Al and the control he had over me.

“I was consumed by dance, I guess. Life off the stage kinda sucked, so nothing else mattered after the performances and post-show parties. Nothing else needed to matter.” Louisa paused, debating how much disclosure she needed to give. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I think I’m done performing. So done.”

“Well, you’re here.” Jane handed her an espresso and another fairy cake. “And that’s worth celebrating. So, cheers.”

“Cheers.” She tapped cakes with Jane then took a huge bite. “You must be doing okay to afford all this swanky stuff. I swear you nabbed a window display from that Swedish furniture store.”

“Told you, The Doll House pays well. And Dennis helps out a lot. He moved in three months back when he left his fiancée, and he paid for the renovations and did all this while I stayed at the old place until he’d finished. Said he had to spend the money or she’d get her mitts on it. Plus, he needed a place to stay and something to do. Who was I to complain?” She snorted. “Remember how much we loved that old dump of a place we shared?”

She nodded. “I went by there earlier. It’s how I found him. So, what’s his ex-fiancée like? What’s her name, Bianca?”

“An artsty-fartsy drama teacher at the university. Lovely woman, but turned a bit nuts when he dumped her on the way to the wedding cake tasting session. After that, she claimed he owed her his life savings to pay for the wedding arrangements. Arrangements he’d already friggin’ paid for. Cheeky cow.”

“So he
is
single? There’s definitely no one else? And the marriage is definitely off?” Louisa fought hard not to let out a cheer, to air any indication she thought of Dennis in any way except as a friend because she wasn’t sure if she was ready for
that.
For him. She was fresh from a breakup, and her career drowning in a puddle of mud. And his kiss. Oh, his kiss. Besides, he’d clearly stated he didn’t want the distraction.

“There’s always someone else with him.”

Her heart sank. “That Sally Sweetheart woman from last night?”

“The other woman has always been you, sweetie. I thought you knew that.”

Louisa’s knees turned to jelly. She crossed her ankles and took a calming breath before asking, “Can’t be true. I wasn’t even around when he broke up with Bianca.”

“Dennis is pretty darn private with feelings. All I know is that he did seem happy with her until it ended suddenly. Told her in the middle of the tube station. Crazy, huh? He screamed it at the top of his lungs over the lunch hour rush. What a jerk.”

“Poor guy. Was this long ago?” That woman must have hurt him really badly to drive him to such cold measures.

“He did his ditch-the-bride-before-the-altar thing in February.”

“Three months ago? When I performed at Covent Gardens? That’s when I ended things with Al.”

“Christ, Louisa, you must have been going through hell to not tell me you were in London. I’d have loved to see you dance again…and be there for break-up margaritas and cupcakes.”

“I wanted to get in touch, but I thought it best not to, considering what was going on. Stupid ballet, it’s ruined so much for me. It gave me stability and focus so I was clueless that my life was going to the gutters elsewhere. It’s time I grow up. I’m ready to live my life and not hide behind costumes, makeup, and someone else’s directions, or hang off the need for adoration.”

“Perhaps now that you’re thinking outside the dance box, you and Dennis will hit it off? Always thought you’d make a cute couple.” Jane poured another coffee. “But don’t ever take him for cake. I hear he doesn’t like it, makes him call weddings off.”

Louisa laughed. “I love dessert, so we wouldn’t last the week.” She shoved a cake in her mouth and got icing over her upper lip and nose. “Besides, he’s made it pretty darn clear he isn’t interested in me that way.”

“Hardly. The guy is besotted with you. He’s just focused on work. Too focused on work if you ask me.”

“And you think I’m just the woman to get him de-stressed?”

“I think so, yes.”

The apartment door flew open. Dennis strolled in, a sweater slung over his shoulders, the top two buttons of his polo shirt undone. He fussed with his thick hair flopping over his square-framed glasses. “Damned figures and widgets.” He rubbed at his temple and cringed. “Pour me a coffee, Sis. Gonna need it to get through the day.”

“Morning class rough?” Jane winked toward her. “Did one of your students bring cake for the teacher?”

“Ha, bloody, ha.” He yanked his specs off and rubbed his eyes before glancing toward Louisa. Fine with a capital take-me-now, he’d grown into his wide shoulders and long legs. And his muscles. Biceps strained the material of his sleeves, six-pack curved out his shirt. He puffed, the breeze sending his wayward fringe back into place. She caught herself gasping and slammed her lips tight together. She locked her gaze with his, the pull to ravish him itching at her, sending goose bumps prickling over her arms and the back of her neck. Made her fidget, crossing and uncrossing her legs. He cleared his throat and tugged on his collar. The things she’d like to do to him....

“Morning, Lola.” Her suitcase stored behind the sofa caught his attention, and his mouth curled a little to the left. His lopsided smile made her shiver. She sucked in a breath and focused on his faint dimple. “So I didn’t dream it, you are here to stay?”

“No, she’s here on holiday,” Jane mocked, pouring him a coffee. Louisa jabbed her in the arm and shot her daggers. Jane shrugged and grinned. Still the same old shit-stirrer.

“Quit picking on me, Sis.”

Heat prickled over Louisa’s cheeks and spread to her neck and down to her chest. She glanced away and exhaled.

“Ah-hem.” Jane handed her the coffee. “Give this to Dennis, would you?”

She passed him the mug, and his hand brushed hers. The touch of his warm skin against hers sent shivers down to the tips of her toes.

“You’ve got icing on your nose.” He wiped the frosting away then licked it off his digits. “Hmm, sweet Lola.”

If she ever did dance at The Doll House, Lola would be her stage name. It seemed like a name belonging to a confident woman, one at peace with herself. The woman she wanted to become.