…later that night
The grand ballroom looked a sorry sight. Gone were the flashing disco lights and thumping music. It was now littered with discarded bottles and glasses, and remnants of food smearing the floor. At least it was empty. The drunken partygoers dressed in bizarre costumes had departed, returned to their homes where sore heads and hangovers awaited. It was gone midnight before the party had started to wind down. Tom had intended to clear up, but decided it could wait until the morning when the cleaners would arrive.
For now, he needed to ensure there were no stragglers left in the building and lock up. His bed awaited.
Thoughts of his bed led to thinking about Becca and the image of her dressed as Harley Quinn. Christ, she was hot. She’d always been beautiful. Now she was mind-blowing. As a teenager, she’d been cute with big blue eyes and long blonde hair. Aside from the appeal of her dancer’s physique, she’d always worn a smile, her persona animated and playful. And even though their relationship had developed into intimacy over time, it had been based around love and affection. Most of all fun.
Seeing Becca again after so long had ripped open a wound that had never healed. And that made him angry. He hadn’t wanted to revisit his past. He didn’t want a reminder of how things had once been. It was torture. Gut-twisting. But over the last couple of weeks something had changed. And he was still coming to terms with the shift in their relationship.
It was impossible to stay angry with someone so…adorable. Whatever illegalities she may have been guilty of at sixteen it hadn’t affected the woman she’d become. She defended Jodi with a passion that was admirable, and her desperation to save the playhouse showed the depth of her kindness and desire to help people.
But there was one big difference between the teenage version of Becca and the adult version. And that was sex appeal.
He backtracked through the foyer towards reception.
Liking her again was one thing. Wanting to carry her upstairs and remove her fishnets with his teeth was quite another. He wasn’t sure when things had changed. His attraction had been growing steadily over the last few weeks. Chipping away at the barriers he’d built to protect himself from getting hurt again. But at some point during the last week he’d gone from wishing he’d never laid eyes on her to dreading never seeing her again. And that scared the shit out of him.
But he could no longer deny what he felt. When they’d danced together all remaining resistance had melted away. The feel of her in his arms, the smell of her skin, the sound of her voice and laughter. It was like he could finally breathe. What that meant for the future, he had no idea.
He noticed the door to the art studio was open and the light was on. He hoped he wasn’t about to discover a drunken partygoer passed out on the floor. It was bad enough Captain America had fallen asleep in the bar and needed lifting into a taxi. Tom’s back was still complaining.
There were no partygoers in the art studio. Only Becca. She was balancing on a table, trying to reach the tall sash window. Her arms were raised above her head, lifting her skimpy top and revealing a tattoo of a twirling dancer on her lower back. The muscles in her legs flexed as she reached up, making her shorts ride up. He could see a faint red patch on her thigh where she’d glued herself to the floor. Lust rooted him to the spot.
Only the precariousness of her unstable position prevented him from continuing to admire the view. ‘Need a hand?’
She jolted at the sound of his voice, kicking over the chair she’d used to climb up. She flailed about, trying to regain her balance.
He darted over and grabbed her by the legs. But far from playing the ‘hero’, as she’d accused him of doing on Tuesday, all he managed to do was topple her off the table. He caught her, but as he stepped backwards, he collided with the upturned chair and lost his footing. There was an almighty crash as they landed on the table, which promptly collapsed.
She let out a painful yelp.
He banged his elbow on something, but he was more concerned about her. She was clutching her knee. ‘Shit! Are you okay?’
Her face was screwed up. ‘I’m not sure.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said, mortified at having injured her. Supposing she never danced again and it was all his fault. ‘What can I do? Do you need ice?’
‘Just give me a minute,’ she said, rubbing her knee. ‘The pain might subside.’ She bent her leg, wincing when she straightened it.
‘I can’t believe I dropped you.’
She managed a self-deprecating smile. ‘It’s not the first time I’ve been dropped. I’ve had my share of inept male dance partners. It’s no big deal.’
He felt himself frown. ‘It’s a big deal to me.’
She surprised him by laughing. ‘Lighten up. It’s only a knock, I’ll live.’
He frowned. ‘You’re bleeding.’
She glanced at her leg. ‘That was Mad Maude, remember? And you’re bleeding too. My bracelet must’ve caught you.’ She trailed a finger down the side of his cheek. ‘Sorry.’
His breath hitched. But that could just be the sting in his face. ‘It’s fine.’
Her eyes stayed locked on his. ‘Are you hurt anywhere else?’
He shook his head. ‘You?’
‘Nothing major. Can you help me stand up?’
He got to his feet and pulled her up. ‘Can you put any weight down?’
She tested her leg. ‘Yep, all good.’ The pained expression on her face didn’t match her words.
He slid his arm around her. ‘Liar.’
She laughed. ‘Stop worrying, will you? I just need to walk it off.’
‘Lean on me, then. Take it easy.’ He took her weight as she hobbled around the room. ‘Why were you standing on the desk?’
‘I was closing the window.’
‘Why was it open? No one was supposed to be in here.’
She laughed. ‘That’s the thing about parties, people get carried away.’
‘And randomly open windows?’
She looked at him. ‘I’m guessing they opened the window because things got a little steamy in here.’ She raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to catch on.
It took a moment. ‘You’re kidding? In here? Tonight?’
She laughed, her purple bunches swaying with the motion. ‘Afraid so.’
‘It wasn’t Superman, was it? I saw him getting frisky with Maleficent in the bar.’ And then he changed his mind. ‘Actually, I don’t want to know.’
She leant against him. The scent of her perfume made him feel light-headed.
‘How’s your knee?’
‘Not too bad. Hopefully, there’s no permanent damage.’ She stopped walking. ‘I might need to sit down for a bit.’ When he picked her up in his arms, she laughed. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Redeeming myself.’ He adjusted her position and carried her out of the room. He’d been wanting to do this for weeks. ‘You’ll never make it up the staircase with a bad knee.’
‘We’re going upstairs?’ She had a playful look on her face.
He stilled. ‘Unless you’d prefer me to call you a taxi?’
‘I’d prefer it if you called me Becca.’
His laughter made carrying her across the foyer more challenging. He could feel the warmth of her body pressed against him, the texture of her skin soft through the rips in her tights. Her arms were snaked around his neck. The brush of her hair against his face made him shiver. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to do more than that. But she was injured and he needed to negotiate the stairs.
He stepped over the rope cordoning off the private quarters. He felt quite manly as he lifted her over. Tarzan, eat your heart out. But then his trail leg snagged on the rope and he toppled forwards. With his foot ensnared he couldn’t stay upright, and his balance had gone south. They fell to the floor together and this time he landed on top of her.
She smothered a yelp.
This was not the way to impress a woman. He pushed himself onto his elbows. ‘Becca…? Are you okay?’
When she laughed, his insides melted. ‘I’m fine, Casanova.’
A tiny voice in his head told him he should move. He was lying on top of her, arms either side of her head, knees either side of hers, trying not to squash her. He was also panting heavily.
It wasn’t the worst position he’d ever found himself in. Despite being sprawled on the floor, it didn’t stop the intensity of the moment registering with a certain part of his anatomy. The feel of her chest rising and falling beneath his only added to the tension. He was close enough to touch her, to whisper in her ear. It was the ideal moment to tell her how he felt…but come to think of it, how did he feel?
He risked a glance down and found her staring up at him. ‘Shall I move?’ he whispered.
She shook her head.
The next thing he knew they were kissing.
Her lips were warm and willing. She responded with such passion it knocked him sideways. Any thoughts of self-control went flying out the window. He’d been dying to do this ever since the moment he’d set eyes on her again. He moved against her mouth, drawing her in, making her moan. He wasn’t sure it’d been anything like this as a teenager. She was clinging hold of him like she never intended to let go.
When she wrapped her legs around him, he nearly lost his mind.
He could taste her, smell her; everything he’d forgotten came flooding back, reminding him why he’d been so crazy for her. Why he’d fallen in love with her in the first place. But that wasn’t going to happen again. This was just snogging.
The hell, it was.
Her hands were laced into his hair, gripping hold, her body pressing against him, urging him on…and he really didn’t need any encouragement.
‘Tom…?’
‘Oh, God, Becca.’ He wanted her so much.
‘Tom?’ Her voice was sharper this time.
He kissed her neck, his tongue trailing over her soft skin. ‘What is it…? What do you want me to do?’
‘Tom!’ This time a command.
He jerked back, his brain drugged with lust and desire. It took a few seconds to compute it wasn’t Becca calling his name, but… Shit!
He dragged himself upright, as though branded by a cattle prod. Becca yelped when his knee hit her thigh. ‘Sorry…sorry.’
It was too much to hope it was an apparition. A bad dream, or his brain playing dirty tricks. Standing in front of him, hands on hips, staring down at him, was his sodding ex-girlfriend. ‘Izzy?’
‘Hello, darling.’ Her forlorn expression switched to calculating when she spotted Becca. ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m Tom’s girlfriend.’
‘Ex-girlfriend,’ he said, feeling as poleaxed as Becca looked. He offered Becca his hand and carefully pulled her to her feet. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine.’ He kept hold of her. He didn’t want her running off.
Izzy gave Becca the once-over. ‘What an unusual outfit. Are you some sort of hired entertainer?’
Becca’s cheeks flushed.
‘Let me get you upstairs,’ he said to Becca, ignoring Izzy. ‘You need to ice your knee.’
Izzy feigned concern. ‘Oh dear, are you hurt?’ She swished her long hair over one shoulder. ‘Must be all that rolling around on the floor.’
Tom shot her a look. ‘Pack it in, Izzy.’
‘Have I said something wrong?’ She attempted a butter-wouldn’t-melt look.
Becca shook her head. ‘I think it’s best if I go home.’
The weight of disappointment settled in his chest. ‘There’s no need. Izzy’s not staying.’
Izzy faked a concerned smile. ‘The taxi’s still outside if you need to go somewhere. I didn’t have enough cash to pay the driver so I asked him to wait.’ She removed her camel-coloured coat and placed it on the suitcase by her feet. A not-so-subtle hint that she intended to stay. ‘Be a love and settle up for me, darling.’
Becca’s eyes drifted to the suitcase. ‘I’ll leave you to finish locking up.’
Every fibre in Tom’s body wanted to hold on to her. There was so much he wanted to say. But the moment had gone. Ruined by his ex. ‘I’ll see you out.’
She held him at arm’s length. ‘No need.’
He dug out his wallet. ‘Let me give you some money.’
‘Twenty-five quid, plus tip.’ Izzy smoothed down the front of her fitted black dress. ‘It’s double fare after midnight.’
He handed Becca fifty quid. The money he was supposed to be giving the cleaner in the morning. ‘Text me when you get home. I need to know you’re okay.’
She gave him an incredulous look. ‘Go and deal with your girlfriend.’
‘Ex-girl—’
‘Whatever.’ She sighed. ‘I’m tired. I’m going home to bed.’
Izzy gave her a little wave. ‘That’s probably for the best.’
Tom focused on Becca. ‘Let me help you out to the taxi.’
‘I can manage.’ She hobbled away.
‘Nice meeting you,’ Izzy called after her.
Tom waited a beat before storming over. ‘Quit with the sarcasm. Why are you here, Izzy?’
She touched his chest. ‘Aren’t you pleased to see me?’
‘No.’
She baulked at his answer, but he knew her well enough to realise it was an act. He watched her face morph from shock, to hurt, to upset. How had he been so blind to her manipulations for so long?
‘Let’s go upstairs and talk,’ she said, sliding her arm through his, no doubt hoping Becca would see before she disappeared.
He unhooked his arm. ‘I’m not in the mood for your games. Why are you here?’
She looked around. ‘What a great place. It’s a shame you’ve never brought me here before. I like it. Can I have the full guided tour?’
‘No. Answer the question.’
‘You’re bleeding?’ She touched his cheek. ‘Let me tend to that for you.’
He stepped away. ‘Why are you here, Izzy?’
‘Why don’t you fix us a drink and then we can chat.’
‘Answer the bloody question!’
The smile fell from her lips. ‘Fine. I need a place to stay until Harry gets back from New York.’
Who the hell was Harry? Maybe he was the guy who’d turned up at the flat with her? Tom no longer cared. He just wanted her gone. ‘Why didn’t you stay at the Travelodge?’
‘I didn’t like it there. I was lonely.’ She sounded sulky.
‘Can’t you stay with your parents?’
‘Daddy’s stopped my allowance. He says I need to get a job.’ She made it sound like this was the most ridiculous suggestion ever. ‘It’s just a couple of days. Surely you can put me up for two days? You owe me that much.’
He ran his hands through his hair. ‘You’re unreal.’
‘Oh, come on. It’s not a huge ask. Two days…three max.’ She batted her eyelashes.
‘Izzy, you’re not staying here.’
Her bottom lip wobbled. ‘I have nowhere else to go.’
‘That’s not my problem. And you had somewhere to stay. A place I was paying for.’ A fact that irked more now he knew she was seeing another bloke. Why wasn’t he paying for Izzy’s accommodation?
Tears ran down her face. ‘It’s because you have another woman, isn’t it? You’ve no idea how much it hurts to see you with someone else. I still love you.’ She moved towards him. ‘I want us to be together. I always have.’
He wasn’t falling for that old chestnut. ‘No, you don’t, Izzy. You just don’t want anyone else to have me.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘Yes, it is. You want me on hand to bail you out, to pick you up when your life spirals out of control. That’s not love. It’s need.’
Her hands went to her hips. ‘So, I need you. What’s wrong with that?’
He had a flashback of Becca standing in the office adopting the same stance in her Harley Quinn outfit. A sense of yearning engulfed him. He wanted her so much.
In fact, he’d never wanted a woman more.
But Becca’s ‘hero’ accusation had struck a nerve. He’d thought of little else all week. He’d realised she’d been right. But his need to ‘rescue’ people didn’t come from a sense of bravery or heroism. It stemmed from guilt. He felt guilty for breaking Becca’s heart twelve years ago. Guilty that he hadn’t been able to save his mother from alcoholism. And guilty for pursuing his own career while his mother struggled to run the playhouse.
If he’d been able to rescue Izzy, then it might have eased the torment of letting everyone else down. Izzy was constantly yo-yoing between drugs, alcohol and partying. She hadn’t wanted him when her life was good, but relied on him when she crashed and burned. And he’d tolerated it because he felt guilty.
It was time to rectify that mistake.
He faced his ex-girlfriend. ‘Our relationship is over, Izzy. You can’t keep relying on me. It isn’t healthy. Or fair. On me, or you. You keep saying it’s one last time, but it never is. I thought things would change when we split up, but they haven’t. You need to do as your father suggests and sort your life out, and without me there to keep bailing you out. We need to make a clean break so we can both move on with our lives.’
Her expression hardened. ‘So you’re going to throw me out on the streets?’ She shoved him in the chest. ‘Callous bastard.’
He wouldn’t do that, it was gone one a.m. ‘You can stay for tonight.’
Her anger disappeared, replaced by a seductive smirk. ‘Thanks, baby. I knew you wouldn’t let me down.’
He stepped away when she tried to touch him. ‘But in the morning, I’ll drive you back to London.’ He picked up her suitcase. ‘And then I never want to see you again.’
Doubt crept into her smile when she saw his resolute expression. ‘You…you don’t mean that.’
He held her questioning gaze. ‘Yes, Izzy. This time, I do.’