What Lola Wants (London Dolls Book 1) (7 page)

“Sleep okay?”

She nodded then turned her attention to her own drink and took a swig. The bitter dark roast re-burst the warmth hugging her throat and chest. “The spare room is fine.”

“And I bet Jane has already tried roping you into a spot in her show. Was only just saying yesterday how the owner of The Doll House is looking for talented new girls.”

“Anything but striptease.” She pointed her index finger at each of them and scowled. “You two are ganging up on me.”

“And with that,” Jane said, “I must go get my show gear organized and bagged for tonight. Back in a tick.” She squeezed Louisa with a quick bear hug and slinked into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. From behind the wood, she hollered, “I need someone to cover my spot on Friday because I’ve got a date. I haven’t had a date in months. I wonder if Sweetheart will do it?”

“Well, I’m not stripping down to pasties in public,” Louisa replied. But how else was a girl like her—uneducated except in the ways of dance—supposed to raise cash in a hurry? “Maybe there’s some bar work going at The Doll House? It can’t be much different from serving colas and lemonades at Coffee ’n Cream.”

“Jane hasn’t been on a date in,” he counted on his fingers, “seven months.” He wiggled his hips, pivoted, and winked. “If I can burlesque, surely a famous ballet dancer like yourself can handle it. I know Jane would appreciate it.” He leaned in close, warmth from his breath stroking her lips. She closed her eyes and waited, hoping he’d kiss her and everything would be A-okay again. “Burlesque isn’t stripping, it’s dance, it’s an art form,” he whispered. “And if anyone knows about teasing, it’s you. You were made for burlesque.”

She opened her eyelids, her breath caught.

“I want to kiss you again,” he said, his tone deep and all kinds of
grr
.

Do it. Kiss me.

“But—”

“But isn’t a word. It’s not in my vocabulary, at least not right now it isn’t.” She wrapped her arms around to his nape and hooked her legs around his waist. Before he could protest, she leaned in and brushed her mouth over his neck. Delicate. Testing. He moaned, his breath warm against her soft flesh. The vibrations sank to her center and her toes curled.

“Lola,” he rasped as almost a whisper.

She moved her kisses to his jawline and then his cheek, his bristles scraping and tickling her lips. “You taste like cake and frosting. Hmm, sweet.”

He cupped her face and pressed his mouth to hers, edged his way inside with his velvet-smooth tongue and explored her. Overwhelming need enveloped her, swallowed her whole. Light-headed, heart throttling, her sex aching, she needed him. Now.

She succumbed to his masculinity, let him lead the way. The loss of control scared the hell out of her, but also sent her to the edge of ecstasy. She trusted him. No doubt about it. She’d trust him with her life, with her everything. Reveling in the intimate embrace, she pressed closer into him. His hardened length rubbed against her and teased her already tingling mound.

“I need you so,” she murmured. “If only our clothes weren’t in the way.”

He leaned back, his breathing heavy and his sight set to the ground. “We shouldn’t do this.”

“Shush.” She grabbed his muscular arse and pulled him against her. “There’s no reason why we can’t.”

He grabbed her shoulders and held her away. “I’m scared I’m your crutch while you get over Al. And I’m worried you’ll hurt me again.”

“I made the mistake of letting you go once. Trust me, I won’t be doing that again.”

“I can’t afford to lose my sanity, not now. I’m so close to my dream job I can almost taste it.”

“Let me prove how much you mean to me.” More than ever, she wished to strip and entwine around him. “Let me be there for you, be your support…be your love.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not ready to trust this. Us. Not yet. But I want to. Really, I do.”

“Then we’ll slow down, whatever it takes.”

“Take it slow. Now there’s an idea.” He peeled himself off her, grabbed his briefcase, and fled from the flat.

“Me and my big gob.” Sticking her finger atop a nearby cake, she scooped up icing and licked her digit clean. The sweet treat hardly satisfied the need throbbing in her sex. “Now what’s a girl to do?”

Chapter Six

Daydreaming of her, that’s how Dennis had spent the day. He’d paced through several lectures, chewed through his pencil, and zoned out during a video chat meeting with Torquay’s board of education and town mayor to finalize his interview for the Principal position. He could only hope no one had noticed his lack of focus.

At dinner, he poked at his sister’s homemade lasagna as she chatted with Lola. They went on about burlesque, and the new guy Jane dated, seemingly ignoring Dennis’s existence.

He wanted to strut to Lola, fireman-lift her to his bed, and kiss her rosy lips. To brush his hands over her perfect apricot skin and have her writhe beneath him. The erotic fantasy drove him to the brink of insanity.

Restraint proving harder than ever, he growled and clenched his hands.

He excused himself from the table and fled to the compact en-suite attached to the room he’d been staying in since leaving Bianca. He flicked the sink tap on and splashed cool liquid over his face. The refreshing blast didn’t lull his need as he’d hoped, so he repeated the action. Still no relief. He grasped the porcelain sink’s rim, his arms flexed hard and his jaw clasped tight. Visions of Lola had permanently lodged in his mind. The same images that had haunted him through every waking moment of his life and had been the cause of many restless nights. Her soft and sweet kisses, how his hand tangled in her hair when he yanked her close, and how her expression soured as she skulked away from him. The way she chewed at her bottom lip, how curls framed her perfect heart-shaped face. And how she whispered “goodbye” to him in a sultry tone only she could produce.

Sounds of her cute giggles carried through the flat.

At this point, saying no to her proved more distracting than just giving in to his desires.

He patted himself dry with a hand towel and cursed.

There he was, sweating it, while she relaxed on the sofa, laughing. She didn’t run into his arms and beg for his attention, nor did she rush to apologize again for splitting him in two. Nothing. She hadn’t even asked about his day. Maybe she didn’t care for him, after all.
Ouch.

Lola. Beautiful Lola. What had she done to him? Turned him into a quivering mess, that’s what.

Take it slow? Stupid suggestion.

An urge to march into the living room and demand that she share what raced through her mind jabbed at his nerves.

He strode to the door and grabbed the knob. Before twisting it open, he released his grip. He couldn’t do it; going full-on caveman in heat might blow his chances at a lasting relationship. If he was going to do this, he’d do it right. Rushing her seemed unfair in her delicate, breakup-fresh frame of mind.

“Okay, I’m out for the evening, guys. If I’m not back before midnight, no need to call for help. I just got lucky!” Jane hollered then slammed the door behind her.

So, it was just him and Lola home now.

He threw on a clean shirt and strode to the open layout kitchen to make himself a coffee. A very strong coffee.

He glanced over to Lola, snuggled on the sofa under a blanket.

Loose strands of hair fell across her face. She puffed them away and called, “Hey, there. Whatcha doing?” A smile so wide it twinkled through her gaze. She leapt from under the covers, revealing lemon-colored pajamas that hung loose and disguised all her dips and curves. One zip stood in the way of her baring all. One very long zip. He bit down on his fist. Those baggy clothes were the sexiest thing he’d ever seen her wear.

“You’re in pajamas already?” He cursed at how hot she looked. Perhaps the all-in-one was dynamite because he hoped she was naked beneath it. He didn’t know. Didn’t care. He had to get her out of it.

“They’re so comfy, and it’s not like I’m going anywhere.” She skipped to his side, cupped his hands, and weaved her fingers between his. “How was your day?” she whispered. Lured in by her moist pout and fluttering lashes, he wanted—no, needed—to kiss her.

A tilt of her head and she leaned toward him. Before his mouth reached hers, the buzz of a mobile phone vibrated from her bag on the kitchen counter. She reached behind him and pulled out her mobile. A glance at the screen and her face paled.

“Who is it?” he asked.

She tapped her index finger on the screen. “No one important.”

“It’s Al, isn’t it?”

“Uh, yeah. I don’t know how he got my new number, though.” She stared at her phone for several seconds before tossing the device into the bin. “I’ll get another pay-as-you-go tomorrow so he can’t contact me.”

Rubbing her shoulder, he softened his tone. “You should focus on finding something to help take your mind off everything? A gig perhaps?”

“Ah, yeah. I forgot about the mess I’m in for a minute there. It’s you.” She stuck out her bottom lip.

Adorable.

He balled his hands, straining to make like she had no effect on him or his dick, and asked, “What’s me?”

“You make everything else unimportant and fade into nothingness. Forget it. I’m being silly.”

“No, continue.” He perched on one of the four barstools and crossed his arms, beating his fingers against his biceps. “Tell me, what effect do I have on you?”

“You bring out the best in me, make it seem as if anything is possible. The way you look at me...” She moved closer and stroked his arm. “The glint in your blues. The way you worry about me and seem to care what happens to me.”

“That’s because I do.”

She reached around his neck. “You make me believe I can be Lola and not Louisa, a prissy puppet ballerina.”

“Lola, I–”

“And I’m not happy about this taking it slow crap. In fact, the whole idea is driving me insane.”

“Lola–”

“I mean it.”

“Lola, you are beautiful and wonderful and never this prissy Louisa you talk of. Never see yourself like that again. Please.”

She sighed. “When I’m with you, I feel like I can conquer the world.” A tear trickled down her soft peach cheek.

Using the pad of his thumb, he wiped away the moisture.

“I’m jobless. I went to four producers today, and no one hired me.”

“You are
the
best dancer in London. Their loss.” He cupped her face in his hands and tilted her head so she had no choice but to meet his gaze.

“I’m sure they expected me. A few of them even had a Royal Ballet program with me on the cover on their desk, alongside a callout sheet for chorus girls. They couldn’t have been more obvious.”

“So, you’ll try again tomorrow.”

“No, you don’t get it. I gave up when the fourth one dished the truth about why he refused to hire me. I’m not chorus material. That’s what he said. Al told everyone I’ve got a banged-up knee, and that I’m difficult when it comes to taking direction. As an award-winning choreographer with The Royal Ballet, he has clout in the business. I give up. I should have trusted my gut and given up the stage instead of chasing after dance dreams.”

“No, don’t give up. Tell them the truth. They’ll believe you. Better yet, give me the prick’s number and I’ll sort him out.”

Her phone buzzed in the bin.

She glanced toward the device.

“Is it him? Can I answer it?” he growled.

“I thought I’d turned the stupid thing off.”

“Is it him?”

The device continued to vibrate, the thrumming rubbing at his last nerve.

“It’s sweet you want to protect me, Dennis, but getting you involved will just make things worse.” She reached to answer it.

“Whoever is trying to get hold of you, it doesn’t seem as if they’re going to give up.” He nudged her to the left and retrieved her phone. “Hello?”

“May we speak to Miss Lone please?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Detective Henry Jones. I have information about a private matter. Is she available?”

He passed the phone to her. “It’s the police.”

“Hello?” Her voice wobbled. “Oh.” She paced the kitchen while making an occasional “uh-huh” sound before finally slumping on the sofa. He followed in her wake, trying to gauge if the news was good or bad. “Yes. Fine, I’ll come to the station in the morning. Thank you.”

She ended the call, her expression blank.

“What did he say?” Sitting beside her, he rested his arm over her shoulder. “Remember, I’m here for you, no matter what you need.”

Stilling her legs with her hand, she blew out a long breath then kicked her mouth into a smile. “Al had my replacement dancer empty my bank account. They caught everything on security camera so she confessed. They want me down at the station to ID her and fill out more forms.”

“And you’ll get your money back?”

“It
was
Al,” she repeated. “Al took my money.”

“Will you get it back?”

“Eventually. She still has it, apparently, every last pound.”

“That’s great.”

“They want to hear about my relationship with him, said it’d help with the case.”

“I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

“There’s a warrant out for his arrest because of what the dancer told them about him being aggressive and bent on getting me back. They hinted that he may track me down, and they warned me to be extra careful. I shouldn’t be alone until they have him in custody. Something about a restraining order, too.”

“Is there anything we can do in the meantime?”

“I deleted all his nutty texts, but I do have one of his threatening notes. They want to see it.”

“Then let’s get that to this Henry Jones chap.”

“Totally.”

“Consider me your personal bodyguard. Al won’t dare come near you if I can help it.” He flexed his muscles and growled.

She chuckled. “My hero.”

“You know it.”

Hoisting a leg over him, she shimmied across the sofa, eased onto his knee, and straddled him. “At least I’ll be getting my money back.”