Past Regrets: Love and Friendship, Book 2 (6 page)

Silence fell.

Julia slid from the pole, scooped up her shirt and trousers and sauntered back to face her employees in just her matching lacey underwear. She was aware of the pleasure flooding her body, the buzz of exhilaration. Although she’d walked away from the occupation, it was obvious—to her at least—that showmanship ran through her blood. Her father’s family had told the truth. She was as common as her mother.

A round of applause broke out, her friends leading the charge.

“Any questions?” she asked crisply, purposely refraining from checking Ryan’s reaction.

“I’m in,” Maggie shouted from the left. “Lessons and everything.”

Julia scanned the faces, homing in on the woman who’d challenged her. “Do you have any other concerns?”

The woman shook her head slowly, poker face firmly in place. “You’ve surprised me, and that doesn’t happen often, but I’ve got kids to feed. I can’t wait around until you get the club running again.”

“Fair enough.” Julia wasn’t about to argue. She needed a team who stood behind her in everything. Men and women who were open to change and new ideas, because that’s what it’d take to get this club back to the stage where the punters queued, willing to wait to gain admittance.

“If we hang around while the club is closed, are we guaranteed our jobs?” It was the barmaid, and she sucked noisily on a lollypop while she waited for an answer.

“I might decide to reshuffle positions,” Julia said without hesitation. “Everyone will receive training, and I’ll assess your strengths and weaknesses—”

“If you intend to do any of that touchy-feely shit businesses do to bond their staff, I’m out of here,” the barmaid said.

“That’s your prerogative,” Julia said.

The lollypop bulged in one cheek. “Huh?”

“She means you need to make up your own mind,” one of the strippers murmured.

“If there are no other questions, you’re free to go. Please let Susan know if you intend to continue with your employment here or, if you prefer, you can stop by tomorrow morning and let me know. Those of you who wish to remain, please arrive at nine tomorrow morning. We’ll work office hours until the club reopens.”

“You can pull your tongue in now,” Ryan said with a glance at Caleb. “And get your eyes off my wife’s ass.”

“Wow,” Caleb said. “Did you know she could do that?”

“No,” Ryan said, torn between wanting to stare hungrily at her exposed flesh—because she hadn’t pulled on her clothes again—and wanting to rush over and cover her long limbs and torso with a… He glanced around for something suitable. Maybe a curtain would do the job. “My wife has hidden talents.”

“I’m only going to Tauranga for the weekend,” Caleb said.

Ryan ripped his gaze off Julia to stare at his friend. “What? Why? You told your parents you were going for an entire week.”

“This is way too good to miss. Besides, I want to help. They’re going to paint and stuff. We can do that. We can help sort out the lighting and the stage props, and since you already have so many songs done, we can get a head start on the arrangements.”

“One condition,” Ryan said, turning back to watch Julia. God, she was so beautiful. He’d already known she was bright and intelligent, but now he was seeing it in action, and it was damn sexy.

“What’s that?”

“You stop flirting with my wife.”

“Nope,” Caleb said. “I’ve decided I have a thing for troublesome women. I need to keep you honest. Besides, if she kicks your sorry ass to the footpath, I want to be on the spot to grab my chance.”

Ryan snorted rudely. “Julia is mine, and I have the marriage certificate to prove it. We’d better finish our assignment and make ourselves indispensable, otherwise both our asses will leave skid marks along the pavement.”

“You know we could help her out with finances,” Caleb said.

“I’ve thought about offering money already, but I don’t want to hurt her pride.”

“We can offer to pay for rehearsal space.”

“Yeah, that might work. I’ll run the idea past her tomorrow.” He considered Julia’s sexy stage routine and began to smile. “I have an idea for another song. Two, actually.”

“Spill. Wait. It’s not a ballad is it?”

“One of each,” Ryan said, excitement pounding through him. This was a way to help Julia, something concrete to assist her with the club—a special theme song by
French Letters
. There must be a way to swing something so the band wasn’t outed, because he wanted to help.

Caleb started playing with the lights, testing the different spotlights and the color filters. Ryan watched with a critical eye.

“I don’t think she’ll need to do much with the lighting. The wiring and everything looks good,” Caleb said, after peering into the switchbox and prodding a few things.

“The curtain and some of the props they have back here need renewing. They’re tacky and old.” Ryan tapped a large metal birdcage, big enough for a person, and a cloud of dust rose. He backed away before he sneezed.

“You want to report to Julia?” Caleb asked.

“Yeah.”

Ryan appreciated Caleb giving him space and the opportunity of a few private words with her. He practiced what he’d say in his mind while he searched the club for her. He ran her to ground in the stock room where she was doing an inventory of the booze with one of her friends. “Hey.”

“Damn, that’s bad timing,” the friend said. “I was about to grill her about you.”

“Why don’t you ask me?” he asked.

“Ryan.” Julia scowled at him, an expression he’d noticed her wearing a lot tonight.

He tut-tutted. “Didn’t your mother warn you the changing wind can fix a frown in place? Your smile is much sexier.”

The friend laughed, despite Julia’s deepening glower.

“I’m Ryan,” he said, sticking out his hand. He flicked a glance in Julia’s direction. “Julia’s husband.”

“Maggie,” she said. “Connor’s wife.”

“The big dude who can’t keep his eyes off you?”

“That would be the one,” she said with a fond grin.

“Julia, can we talk?”

“I’ll leave you alone,” Maggie said, brushing past Julia.

“No,” Julia blurted, her hand snapping out to grip her friend’s arm.

“Julia,” Maggie protested.

“Why don’t I tell you about the sound and lighting system first,” Ryan said, watching his wife glance at the door with longing. Now dressed, she appeared cool, armor firmly in place. Damn, he’d hurt her. Seeing Julia had brought back forgotten memories and filled some gaps. After they’d married, she’d told him of some of her past with boyfriends, joked about her bad luck until she met him. Now she’d consigned him to the top of the male scrapheap and donned her bitchy manner to conceal her pain. To set her at ease, he plunged into the conclusions he and Caleb had come to regarding the current setup.

“So we can get by with cosmetic fixes on the curtains and props?” she asked.

“That’s good news,” Maggie said. “Six bottles of vodka.”

“Six? Damn, the vodka is short too. Someone has been helping themselves to the booze.” Julia jotted down the number against the computer-generated stock list.

“Ah, heck. Look at the time,” Maggie said. “We need to hit the other club before the line gets too long. I’ll tell the others.” She sped off, leaving Ryan clear to speak in private with Julia.

“I don’t want to listen to anything you have to say,” Julia said.

“Please, hear me out. The mugging story is completely true. While we were in Munich, I was attacked. Three guys were hassling a woman and I stopped to help. After I escorted her home, the guys jumped me, beat me up pretty bad.” He paused, trying to dig the rusty facts from his swirling head. “I was left with short-term memory loss. It’s taken a while to remember things.”

Her stiff manner dispersed a fraction. “Are you okay now?”

“Some of my memories are still fuzzy. I didn’t remember you straight away.”

“That’s good for my ego,” Julia said drily.

“Do you think this has been fun for me? I remembered our songs. We had to cancel one concert, but until I returned home and checked my mail I only recalled your first name. The divorce papers were a rude awakening.”

She cocked her head to the side, her expression unreadable. “You didn’t tell Caleb about your marriage?”

“You asked me not to.” Ryan held her gaze, wanting to reach out and touch her in the worst way. “Remember your long lecture about wanting to maintain your privacy and avoid nosy questions from reporters and ladies’ magazines? I still say you wouldn’t get much of that because we’re relatively anonymous offstage.” His gaze traced the high cheekbones, her straight nose and the curve of her full lips. A zip of heat struck his groin, and a rush of memories bombarded him—crystal clear and perfect. Of making love to her, her mouth on him. Those lips of hers were something else. “You didn’t tell your friends either.”

“No.” Something dark swirled in her eyes for a second. Maybe regret?

“I don’t want a divorce, Julia. I want this marriage. I want you.”

She swallowed, focusing on the paper clutched in her hands. “I don’t think I can do a long-distance marriage. I thought it would be okay, but…” She trailed off, still not looking at him.

“We’re home for a few months,” he said. “Seymour wants us to write some new material and record another album. Couldn’t we start again? Face our problems together without secrets this time?”

“I can’t.” Pain carried in the hoarse whisper, and she seemed to zone out for an instant. Then she glanced at him, the sheen of emotion welling in her eyes. “I don’t think I’m good with relationships.”

He’d done this to her. The hurt radiating from her weakened his knees. Before he’d realized it, he had gathered her in his arms. When she tipped back her head, a tear escaped, and he brushed it away with his thumb. She surrendered, the paper and pen dropping to the floor. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she pressed her face to his shirt, a tremble rippling through her slender body.

Ryan dragged in a deep breath, his anxiety lessening now that he held her. This was home. Now all he had to do was convince her.

“Julia.” He breathed her in, the floral and herbal notes of her perfume, familiar and comforting even though he struggled to recall the name of the scent.

She lifted her head, and he was totally lost. He claimed her mouth softly, hesitating in case she rejected him. Relief struck him hard when her hands tightened on his shirt, but he kept the kiss casual, licking her lips and relearning her taste.

Sweet. Beautiful.

His.

He shivered at the surge of heat racing to his groin and desperately attempted to quell the blast of sexual need.
Slow and easy
. Gradually, he deepened the kiss, drinking in her sweetness, allowing his body to tell her everything—how much he’d missed her, hungered for her even when he hadn’t remembered her name.

He’d known his mystery woman was important, instinctively realized he had to keep the memory to himself until he’d worked everything through. If only he’d come home after the accident. But he’d had commitments and he’d honored them.

“Julia,” he whispered. “I love you.”

She thrust away from him without warning, leaving him bereft. “You forget. I saw the photos of you with other women.”

“Show them to me,” he said, not willing to back down or walk away from this important fight. “Are you sure they weren’t digitally altered? Neil and Caleb have both vouched for me. I truly haven’t slept with another woman since I left New Zealand.”

“That you recollect.” Her expression held skepticism.

“I remember cold showers. Many cold showers.” The memory went some way to cooling his ardor, for which he was thankful. The last thing he needed was for her to think he only wanted her for sex. “I spent a lot of my free time writing new songs,” he said. “I can show you the songs. Caleb and I have started to work on the arrangements. Please give me a chance. Let me prove myself.” Words almost tumbled over each other as he sought a way through her anger, her doubt. “Please.”

“I’m going to be busy with the club,” she said.

“Let me help. Caleb and I were talking earlier. The acoustics are excellent, and we thought it would make a great place for us to rehearse our new material. Somewhere off the radar. Of course, we’d pay you for use of the space.”

He didn’t know what he’d do if she refused. Nah, that was a lie. Even if he had to camp outside with a guitar and play songs on the street, he’d spend his hours with her, attempting to change her mind.

“All right,” she said after a long pause, her tone grudging. “But you’re not moving in with me.”

His held breath released with a hiss. Okay. He could work with that. “Will you let me take you to dinner?”

“Maybe.”

“All right.” A maybe was as good as a yes. “And the band can rehearse here?”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? What about my friends and the staff? What are you going to tell them? I presume you want to keep your identities quiet?”

He didn’t care. He’d make this work. “Caleb has already told them we work as roadies. We’ll keep to the story and tell them we’re thinking of forming a band with some friends. Even if we play
French Letters
music they’ll think we’re doing covers of popular music. Most people see what they want. Without our stage makeup, no one recognizes us.”