Chapter Nine
They made love as they hadn’t before. It was still lusty as hell, but to Lauren it was also deeper, richer than it had been.
She couldn’t get enough of Dante, her addiction to everything he was both frightening and wonderful. He seemed as eager to be with her. Once they’d climaxed, they clung to each other, sweaty and exhausted. And not entirely as friends.
At least not for her. Since their evening on the carousel, something had shifted. Her desire had turned soul deep. Dante offered her comfort she’d never known from a guy. She’d always been practical about life and especially love, never allowing herself to plunge too deeply into anything.
She reminded herself that this wasn’t any different. She’d have to fight her feelings and would, beginning tomorrow. Right now, these moments were too precious to resist or ruin by saying the wrong thing.
When they finally got around to making dinner, Dante taught her the basics. Working next to him in the kitchen felt incredibly comfortable and right, like they should always be doing everyday tasks together. During the meal, they held hands. He wasn’t only tender and a hunk, but he could cook real food. The steak was the best she’d ever tasted. He’d also grilled corn on the cob and baked garlic bread.
She was so screwed.
Beginning tomorrow, she promised herself again. Tonight, Lauren fed him the remaining bread and licked butter from his mouth.
He tapped her naked toes with his.
The evening had cooled somewhat. A mild breeze brushed past vegetation and gently stirred their hair. No boats had glided down the waterway. During their lovemaking, she’d devoted her full attention to Dante, completely unaware of the world around her. She figured the most persistent voyeur would need night vision goggles to see anything in the dim lighting.
Even if they had watched, Lauren didn’t care.
Dante stood.
She grabbed his hand. “Where are you going? Are we through?” She hoped not.
“I was going to get dessert. There’s ice cream in the freezer. Fresh fruit in the fridge.”
“In a minute.” She squeezed his fingers. “I don’t want to eat all of Scott’s food right away. That wouldn’t be polite. Let’s wait a bit.” She snickered.
Laughing, Dante sank to his chair. “Trust me, Scott won’t mind. He’s a good guy.”
“Yeah, I got that.” Something she wasn’t sure she should mention nagged her. However, she wanted to be straight with him. “I totally understand why you quit the firm you worked for. I’m sure they were all about billable hours and the bottom line. After you met Scott, though, why didn’t you hook up with him and fight the good fight for plaintiffs?”
Dante glanced past her to the house, his feelings masked.
Lauren cursed her big mouth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“It’s all right.” He ran his thumb over hers. “Scott offered me a partnership in his firm.” Dante shook his head. “I turned him down. I needed a break from law badly.”
She sensed he wanted to punish himself for his earlier cases and victories. “Will you ever go back to it?”
He got an odd look on his face, then smiled broadly, keeping his feelings to himself. “And leave you alone to run the parlor? Who’d keep me in line at a law firm?” He kissed her knuckles. “Who’d order me not to flirt with or fuck the clients?”
“Hire Jasmina. Her balls are as big as yours.”
He barked a laugh.
“I want what’s best for you.” She stroked his palm. “If you hate law, then what you’re doing is certainly right for you. Outside of the obvious, though, was your old career that horrible?”
“No, and I didn’t hate being an attorney. I needed a break, so I’m taking it. Tattooing has always fascinated me. I’m not as artistic as my brother Tor or Van Gogh—hell, those two are gods—but I do all right. I enjoyed learning how to ink. I met Frank at a tattoo expo. We got to talking, and he brought me on at Wicked Brand. It all worked out.”
Lauren didn’t know what to say.
For the first time ever, Dante looked embarrassed, the way a guy does when a woman reads his soul and knows he’s lying to himself. He shrugged it off and grinned good-naturedly. “Why all the talk about law? Are you trying to get rid of me?”
She pressed his hand to her chest. “Never.”
His smile faded. He seemed to want to say something but didn’t, waiting for her.
Lauren couldn’t keep her news in any longer. She didn’t want to be dishonest with him. “I have an interview Thursday.”
Surprise and another emotion she couldn’t read crossed Dante’s face. They passed quickly. He grinned even broader this time. “That’s fucking great. What’s the job? Is it what you’re looking for?”
The position was way better than her wildest fantasies. Now that her dreams were almost within reach, she couldn’t do anything except shrug. “Sure. It’s a senior HR position with a huge company.”
“Jesus, that’s wonderful.” Dante hugged her.
She held him as hard as she could and fought tears as she had earlier. “I might not get it.”
“Bull.” He shook her gently. “No more talk like that. The second they make you an offer, I want to know. I’ll give you one helluva going-away party.”
Lauren tightened her arm around him. Dante did the same with her. She figured now was the perfect opportunity to tell him about the potential buyer for the parlor. Dump everything on him at once.
She couldn’t bring herself to do so.
Their silence stretched and lingered, the previous magic gone. They dressed, cleaned up, and left, an uncomfortable air hanging over them.
Each time their eyes met, she forced a smile. He returned it, his grin not quite genuine. She pulled up to his modest apartment complex a few blocks from the parlor. Before he got out of the car, Dante kissed her deeply. Like he couldn’t bear to let her go.
Or maybe she merely hoped for that.
She waited for him to look back at her before she drove away. Once he reached his front door, he did. His face was too shadowed for Lauren to catch his mood. She figured it couldn’t be as sad as hers. To him, she was merely a friend with benefits who would be taking a new path away from the parlor and him.
He lifted his hand in farewell.
She did the same.
When Lauren got home, she perched on the sofa, unable to sleep. She reminded herself that she had to get out of the financial hole she was in, snag a great job, pay off her bills, and move forward rather than letting the present sway her.
She couldn’t dwell on the past, either.
The box she’d gotten from Frank’s attorney rested on a shelf below her TV. She had shoved it there, not interested in anything it contained, especially Frank’s note to her.
She rocked and relived tonight’s date with Dante, the last she’d have with him. Even if she didn’t get the job on Thursday, she couldn’t keep doing this. It hurt too badly. She needed him too much. Just as her mom had needed Frank. Look how that had turned out. Uh-uh, misery at that level wasn’t for her.
She pulled out the box and put it on the cocktail table, not sure if she wanted to throw up or scream. This was dumb. She’d had a lifetime to get over what Frank had done to her. Opening a box shouldn’t make her sweat and get dizzy. She paced until her legs hurt. Her anger, beginning tears, and yearning for stuff she’d always wanted but would never have battered her relentlessly. Yet she still hoped for a man to love her forever, to share a home with her, to help her create a family no one could take away.
She yanked off the lid and tossed it aside.
Frank’s glasses and watch rested on top. Personal items that proved he’d existed.
Her throat tightened. She swallowed down grief she hadn’t expected and riffled through the legal documents, searching for his note. Once she’d found it, she had to gather enough nerve to open the damn thing.
She warned herself not to expect much. This was from Frank, after all. The man who’d caused her mom countless tears and a hard fucking life as a single mother.
Renewed outrage washed over Lauren, giving her the courage she needed to unfold the paper and read:
I was wrong.
Her mouth trembled. She pushed sorrow aside and wanted to crumble the note, throw it away, maybe burn the thing. Holding onto her anger was what mattered.
She couldn’t.
Outrage drained from her, leaving her tired and sad. Sagged against the sofa’s cushions, she read what he’d written to her.
Nothing I can say will ever make what I did better. I don’t deserve your forgiveness and would never ask for it. You have every right to hate me. Please don’t let what I did to you and your mother get in the way of what will make you happy. There are good men out there, Lauren. I wish I could have been one of them. I wish I could have been the father you needed and deserved.
Frank
She covered her face with her hands and wept.