“I need to check in with Susan and get the staff meeting underway.” Julia strode away from Maggie.
Have you no shame, woman? Stop looking at his arse.
The vibes from her skeleton staff weren’t encouraging, but she pinned on a friendly smile. “Thank you for coming,” she said, studying the faces of the women clustered around the bar. “I’ve gone over the books and this is what I propose. We’ll close for two weeks while we do a facelift on the place.” She ran through the rest of her plans for the club. “While the club is shut, I’ll need help with painting and some of the other stuff. I’ll also do rehearsals for stripping and burlesque. Before you go tonight, let me know if you want to keep working here or if you intend to hand in your notice. Questions?”
“What about pay?” one woman asked.
“Those who come in to help and turn up for rehearsals will receive their regular pay.”
“I can’t survive without my tips,” the woman said.
“From what I saw last night, tips are few and far between,” Julia said briskly. “I’ll pay your base wage. Once we open again I hope we’ll bring in more punters, and everyone will receive tips.”
“A facelift is all very well.” The woman’s weary features held challenge. The heavy lines fanning from the corner of her eyes and mouth hinted at a hard life. Her voice rasped with the undertones of a heavy smoker. “But why the hell should we trust you? You’re young. A secretary, I hear. What the hell do you know about running a strip club?”
Julia met the woman’s gaze and understood she’d need to prove herself, to respond to the opposition. Wheeling about, she caught Ryan staring. A ripple of awareness shot the length of her body, irritating the hell out of her. She felt nothing for the rat. She. Did. Not.
She stalked over to him. “Cue some music for me, please. Can you manage that?” Her voice was icy and held distinct challenge. She held back a tiny snort of amusement at her behavior. Bitch, anyone?
“Anything in particular?” Ryan asked without missing a beat.
“Something up tempo.” Julia made her way onto the stage, aware everyone was watching her. The women on the staff nudged each other, most still wearing their belligerent expressions. To them she was the interloper, the daughter who’d decided she could fix everything—the educated ‘ideas’ person who excelled at theory but had no field experience.
The first strains of a rock ballad flooded the club, one of French Letters’ top ten hits. How apt. Julia didn’t give into the temptation to glance in Ryan’s direction. The wretched man knew this was her favorite song. He’d sung it to her one night after they’d made love, their sweaty limbs still tangled together. The song—it held memories.
Julia closed her eyes to absorb the beat of the music, then opened them again as experience came to the fore, placing her firmly in the stripper mindset. She grinned, arching her back and gripping the pole in front of her for balance. Gazes fastened on her swaying body and followed the subtle twists of her shoulders, her hips, shooting prickling awareness through her. Ryan was watching her. She faltered for an instant.
Concentrate, stupid. This is about proving your point.
The length of her leg slid along the pole as she gripped it and tipped upside down. Confidence flooded her again, and she moved fluidly, as if she’d been dancing all along. Gliding sinuously to the French Letters’ tune, she righted herself and winked at the gawking group, changing the mood of the dance into fun and flirty.
She strutted away from the gleaming pole, her fingers trailing up and down the placket of her blouse. One by one, she released her buttons, slowly revealing her curves, working it. A shoulder shrug here. A hip roll there. A few minutes later, her expensive blouse hit the floor.
A sharp whistle cut the air. Connor smirked at her while Maggie rose on tiptoe to clap her hands over his eyes.
Julia continued, determined to prove to her employees she understood what she was doing. Each move was sensuous, calculated and designed to inflame those watching the act—both male and female. The removal of her trousers wasn’t elegant, but she did her best, fluttering her eyelashes and pursing her lips at her audience. The fabric slipped down her legs, and she stepped free. Thank goodness for the wide-legged style.
Unhindered by clothing, she sashayed back to the pole, her breasts heaving with exertion. She ran through another sequence of gyrations, twisting and turning, dipping and arching her body into positions designed to entice. Entertain.
As the music passed the climax and slammed to an end, she upped her pace, spinning and hugging the pole, flowing into some of her showier tricks. Julia used the music and when it crashed into the finale, she held her final pose, chest rising and falling rapidly, blood rushing through her veins.
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, poker face 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 open to change and innovative 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 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 stripper 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 tell me then. 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 arse.”
“Wow,” Caleb said. “Did you realize 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. A curtain might 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 arses will leave skid marks along the pavement.”
“We could help her out with finances,” Caleb said.
“I’ve considered offering money, but I don’t want to injure 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 smiled. “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 played with the lights, testing the different spotlights and the color filters. Ryan watched with a critical eye.
“She won’t 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 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 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 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 can’t 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 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 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 worked 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 it would make a suitable place for us to rehearse our new material. Somewhere off the radar. We’d pay you for use of the space.”
He had no idea 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 contemplating 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.”
Julia nodded, losing some of her starchiness. “If anyone asks I’ll tell them you’re a band looking for a break.”
“Julia, are you ready?” Maggie shouted.
“Are you and Caleb coming to the club with us?” Julia asked, gliding around him in a wide circle. “We’re checking out the opposition.”
“Thanks.” Satisfaction filled his chest, and despite her strictures about taking things slowly, he was quietly pleased. She reminded him of the dog his family had adopted from the Humane Society when he was a kid. Despite her feisty attitude, she acted as if he might kick her at the first opportunity. Troublesome wench. That dog had become his best buddy, and he intended to use the same calm persistence with his wife.
The hour was still early—in club terms—yet already a line had formed outside. The seven of them joined the end of the queue, keeping the conversation away from The Last Frontier. A burly bouncer, dressed in a black suit, stood at the head of the line, his massive arms crossed over his chest. His bring-it-on size shouted a warning for everyone to behave, but none of the waiting people were interested in issuing a challenge.
“Have you been here before?” Julia asked the couple standing in front of them. She wanted to get a feel for the clientele and learn what attracted them to this new club. Anything to get her mind off Ryan. God, she’d let him kiss her, which ranked right up there with stupid. Sly, tricky man. His gentleness had cut her mental arguments off at the knees and fogged her stupid brain.
“Good music. Great atmosphere,” a woman said. “There are both male and female performers so the place doesn’t have a sleazy club vibe. It’s comfortable here with my girlfriends.”
“That’s what I heard.” Julia surveyed the woman and those in front of them. The dress-code seemed on the casual side for the men, but most of the women were dolled up in skimpy dresses or clinging skirts and flimsy tops. She was glad they’d all taken the chance to smarten up.
“I haven’t been here before,” Ryan said. “Is the music live or do they have a DJ?”
“DJ,” the woman said. “He’s good.”
Music swirled out when the door opened. Julia didn’t recognize the song, but it had a strong beat, something people could dance to if they had the inclination. The bouncer let several people inside, including the woman she’d questioned.
“That’s all,” the bouncer said, stopping Julia.
“Isn’t it unusual to restrict numbers this early in the night?” she asked.
“Not my fault,” the bouncer said in a surprisingly high voice, immediately on the defensive.
“Of course it isn’t,” she said soothingly, leaning toward him to highlight her breasts. “What are the owners like? I might apply for a job.”
“Dancer?”
“Yes,” Julia said, blinking her eyelashes in his direction. “I wanted to check out the place first. I’ve been burned before.”
Maggie shifted a fraction beside her. Julia caught a masculine growl of disapproval, and she was sure Connor wasn’t the culprit.
“I don’t think they’re hiring at present,” the bouncer said, noticeably thawing. “You should check at the bar.”
“Thanks. I will.”
A group of six men walked out the door, their dark suits indicating they’d hit the place after a day of work. Interesting. Most clubs didn’t attract this clientele. What were they doing that was so different?
“How many are in your group?” the bouncer asked.
“Seven,” Julia said.
“Close enough. You can go in now. Good luck with the job.”
“Thanks.” Julia flashed a smile and sashayed into the club, putting an extra wiggle in her hips. It was the least she could do in exchange for the information.
“Hey,” Ryan’s arm curved around her waist. “I hope your sexy flounce is for me.”
Her steps became jerky, and he chuckled. She swallowed, knocked off her usual even stride. His arm felt natural around her, damn it. She’d softened naturally, leaning into his warmth. And that was stupid, but right now she was so confused and out of kilter she had difficulty thinking straight.
“Relax.”
“Easy for you to say,” she said. “You don’t have four curious friends trying to grill you for answers. Or a husband who decides he can walk right back into my life when it suits him.”
Ryan’s arm tightened as he guided her into the intimacy of the dimly lit club. “This isn’t easy for me either.”
The tense note in his voice had her searching his face. All this time she’d believed him the bad guy, but what if he spoke the truth? She should own some of the problems with their marriage. She’d seen online pictures almost as soon as the band arrived in Europe, and a part of her had died when they kept appearing. Then the baby… The guilt had overwhelmed her, withering her emotions, plunging her into darkness.
“Meet me for breakfast,” she said.
“Where? When?”
“I thought I’d grab something at the cafe down the road from the club. They always used to do a decent breakfast. I want to get an early start.”
“Good idea,” Maggie said, overhearing them.
“Julia and I are having a private breakfast,” Ryan said.
Maggie’s lips twitched. “You can share a table together.”
Julia got it, and a bloom of emotion warmed her through. In their unsubtle way her friends were telling Ryan they had her back. “Fine,” she said, squeezing Ryan’s hand to still his protest. “Maggie is right. I have a lot to do, and I can’t afford distractions.”
“Fine.” He threw her reply back at her. “We’ll share a table at breakfast, but I get a goodnight kiss.”
“That sounds fair,” Maggie said, puckering up in Ryan’s direction.
“Only if you want a spanking,” Connor said sternly.
“Yes, please.” Maggie smirked at her husband, one eye closing in a sexy wink.
Susan clapped her hands over her ears. “La, la, la, la.”
Julia laughed at Ryan’s confusion. “I’ll explain later.”
“There’s a booth,” Caleb said. “We should be able to squeeze in there.”
“Quick,” Christina said. “Let’s grab it before the people behind us get the same idea.” She took off, gliding between the chairs and tables with real speed.
Ryan’s hand slipped from around Julia’s waist, and she registered the loss straight away. Damn it. She couldn’t act this way. She wasn’t a pushover, yet with Ryan... Focus, girl. This is a business jaunt.
“I don’t understand why they’re restricting admission when there are loads of empty tables,” Susan said.
“They’re playing head games,” Caleb said. “If prospective customers see a line outside a club, they think exclusivity. The owners are playing the snob factor and it’s working for them.”
They crowded into the booth. Julia found herself squeezed against Ryan.
“Relax,” he whispered, slipping his arm around her shoulders. “I only bite in private.”
It was privacy that worried her. He’d burst into her life again today, and already she was toast. Well done, burned to a crisp, toast, her emotions and anger warring with her need to run her hands over his shoulder and tattoo to make sure he was real.
Susan pulled out a notebook and pen. “Observations? Points to remember and discuss later?”
“The staff wears a uniform,” Christina said. “It’s a little blatant for my taste. Uniforms are a clever idea, but they need to aim for sexy and stylish rather than tarty.”
“Music is good,” Caleb contributed. “Lighting is okay, but not very original.”
“That might change once an exotic dancer comes on stage,” Maggie said.
“Service is slow,” Connor said. “I’ll go to the bar. What does everyone want to drink?”
“Wine,” Julia said.
“Let’s get a bottle of Sav Blanc,” Maggie suggested.
The music changed and a dramatic drum roll burst through the speakers. A spotlight highlighted a short, slim man dressed in an elegant navy suit. “Let me present, fresh from the Las Vegas club circuit, Garnet!”
The spot light faded, blacking out the man’s presence. The music changed to subtle and flirty. Tension gripped Julia, herds of butterflies dive-bombing her stomach, trying to work their way out. What if she couldn’t do this? What if she was wasting her efforts on an old dame who was way past her prime?
A red spotlight appeared center stage, highlighting a woman dressed in a dazzling black gown. The woman started to sing, dancing and moving in an enticing manner. A cock of her hips. A pout of plump red lips. She was good with an excellent voice, but Julia thought she could hold her own in a strip off. The singing, not so much, but in the dancing and stripping Julia decided she had an edge.
“You’re better,” Ryan murmured.
“Are you sure? I can’t carry a tune.”
“That doesn’t matter. Lip syncing will work if it’s done properly. Besides, you don’t want to copy them. You need to work out your own business plan and stick to it.”
He was right, she thought, her panic receding. She needed to work on the plans she and her friends had discussed, the ideas she’d had as a teenager and her mother had rejected. This was her chance to put her stamp on the club. First up, she’d rename the club Maxwell’s in honor of her great-grandparents. A strip club might have been shameful during Victorian times, but social mores changed. If she marketed the place as classy, she’d attract the right customers.
“We need a motto or a tag line for the club,” Julia said.
“I thought The Last Frontier said it all,” Susan said.
“I’m talking about Maxwell’s,” Julia said. “A different vintage all together.”
“Nice,” Maggie said. “Stylish.”
“Perfect,” Ryan said.
“What about Hollywood glamour as a theme?” Christina asked, leaning across the table to be heard. “Perhaps even a hint of Art Deco.”
“What sort of theme does this place have?” Connor asked.
“It’s cozy and intimate, but the furnishings are bland.” Christina dissected the club’s interior with an artist’s eye. “They’ve played it safe. You need to deliver an experience for your customers. Something they’ll talk about for weeks after the event—in a good way. Get the word-of-mouth thing going.”
Excitement flared inside Julia. Her friends were right. Myriad clubs had opened and closed on K’ Road over the years. Her mother’s club had weathered the competition and remained an institution. Now it was time to reinvent and carve out a new niche.
“You’re excited by the challenge,” Ryan murmured.
Yes. Yes, she was. “I can do this.”
“I had no doubts. Look at your friends. They don’t have an ounce of uncertainty either. We’re on your team, Julia.”
Julia coughed delicately to shift the growing lump lodged in her windpipe. He might be right when it came to the club, but he’d have to go back on the road with the band. They’d be separated because the club would keep her tethered to Auckland.
“Don’t,” he whispered. “I can hear you thinking. This marriage will work. I won’t see it any other way.”
“Theory is fine. It’s the practical things that’ll make a relationship between us difficult.” She winced, emotion a tight fist interfering with her heartbeat. “What about children?” Oh, god. What was she doing?
His brows drew together, gentle fingers tipping up her chin, forcing her to meet his direct gaze. “You want children?”
A familiar pain gripped her, losing her baby tormenting her like an infected tooth. She forced out a light laugh and managed quite well. No one would guess her feelings, the despondency still hiding bone deep in her soul. No, she’d never wanted children—not until she’d discovered she was pregnant.
His expression changed, making her realize she’d hesitated too long. He’d deciphered her silence as negative. She hurried into speech. “We never discussed children.”
“No.” His eyes narrowed on her in silent regard, but luckily he didn’t ask questions or poke at the barely scabbed wound. “We didn’t discuss a lot of things. I’m looking forward to learning more about you and making up the deficit.”
“Besides, children wouldn’t work with you on tour.” She fell silent, aware she was laboring the topic, yet unable to stop herself.
His stare forced the creep of heat up her neck. Yeah, stupid! She should have kept her big mouth firmly shut. “What do you think of the club? What are they doing that Mum isn’t at The Last Frontier?”
“The exclusive vibe seems to work for them. The service is adequate, but not perfect. Ambiance is okay—nothing special or memorable, but the presenter is a nice touch. Their dancer isn’t as good as you, but everyone seems to appreciate her act.” He gestured toward a table of men, most in their early twenties.
His summation of facts, the same observations she’d already assimilated in her mind let some of her panic retreat.
“How long did you work for your mother at the club?”
Her stress levels took off again, soaring to breath-stealing heights. The minute someone learned of her past, they treated her differently. Mention the words exotic dancer and most minds took the straight leap to sex and prostitution. While she wasn’t ashamed of stripping, she didn’t broadcast it either.
Connor returned with a tray of drinks, thankfully interrupting their quiet discussion. She accepted a glass of wine with a smile and set it down while glancing around the club, jumping deeper into analyzing mode.
“Julia, you haven’t answered my question.” Ryan’s quiet insistence had her reaching for her glass.
She took a healthy swig, offering little respect to the crisp notes of summer fruit. Her stomach churned as she took a second sip. Irritation layered on top of her panic and fear, and an outrageous thought struck her. Hell, prevarication wasn’t working. Why shouldn’t she hit him with the truth? “I worked at the club from the age of sixteen.”
“Sixteen, but that’s—”
“Underage,” she interrupted. “I know, but I needed money to pay for clothes and secretarial courses. I had to save because my mother put in everything she had to pay off the mortgage on the place. I worked at the club and left once I turned nineteen.” She damned up the spill of words and waited for his horrified reaction, waited for him to conclude he’d married a prostitute. Even now, the taunts from kids at primary school burned her ears. She recalled in excruciating detail every hushed conversation from her school friends’ parents. Yeah, she’d learned firsthand how people judged.
It shouldn’t matter if Ryan formed the same opinion as others but it did. When he’d asked her to marry him, she’d considered a confession and finally talked herself into not saying anything. The why of her decision became important now. Her breath whooshed out, her streak of honesty kicking her on the butt.
She’d loved Ryan and hadn’t wanted to risk losing him. The irony of it was she’d lost him anyway.