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Lola couldn’t shake the feeling of a chain around her ankle, though. As if Beau would only let her get as far as he wanted, and when he decided he was ready, he’d start reeling her back in. She couldn’t lose focus. The more distance she put between them, the stronger she became—but the opposite was also true.
She wiped beads of sweat from her hairline. She’d been away from him forty-eight hours, and he was hundreds of miles away. Was it far enough to save her from him? From herself? She sank deeper into the warm water—into the torture of another memory she knew she should forget.
* * *
Lola removed her new diamond earrings and set them on the bathroom counter. She glanced up at her reflection. Beau was in the doorway, his bowtie hanging around his neck, a shadow of stubble on his jaw. He came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. “When did you change?” he whispered. “I wanted to watch.”
“I never let you watch.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t.”
Lola’s heart skipped as he nuzzled her neck. The idea that he’d seen her undress without her permission made her flush. He was a dog—she knew that. He’d treated her like a dog. What made him think he could get away with that—standing just out of sight as she unzipped the long zippers of the dresses he’d bought her, unclipped the stockings of her wasted lingerie, unclasped her heavy, expensive necklaces. “You watched me?” she asked, her breath coming faster.
“Mmm.” He moved her hair aside and kissed a spot under her ear. “No. But it’s been very tempting.”
* * *
Lola inhaled a slinky breath and opened her eyes. She was hot everywhere, her body’s memory of Beau much more favorable than her mind’s. She got out of the spa, curled her toes over the edge of the dark pool and dove in. A November night in Salt Lake City wasn’t the optimal time for a swim, but the biting water shocked her system. It jarred her in a necessary way, that sudden switch from hot to cold.
5
Beau waited at the host’s stand as a young girl wound through the diner’s empty tables. She grabbed a laminated menu from its slot and popped her gum. “One?”
“Is Dina Winters working?” Beau asked.
“Yep.”
“Seat me in her section.”
“We don’t have sections tonight,” she said. “Just one waitress on duty.”
Beau sat in a plastic booth and took the menu. Lola’s love for breakfast food made sense if this was what her mom had fed her regularly. Everything at The Lucky Egg seemed to have eggs as an ingredient.
“I know you?” came a voice.
Beau looked up at a woman with burgundy hair and gray roots. Her apron folded between the rolls of her stomach. “Are you Dina?”
“Depends who’s asking.”
“I’m a friend of Lola’s.”
“Oh.” She tapped the end of her pen against her order pad. “Then, yeah. That’s my daughter.”
“Do you have a minute?”
She looked around the restaurant. “I got lots of minutes, but what’s this about? Is Lola all right?”
Beau gestured to the seat across from him. “I just want to talk. I’ll pay for your time.” It came out like a bad habit. Money solved his problems all the time, but he wondered when it’d become second nature—especially outside of work.
Dina snorted but didn’t object. The booth whooshed when she sat. “You got ten seconds to tell me what you’re after.”
“Lola.”
“Nine seconds.”
“Have you seen her?”
“Since when?”
He rubbed his chin. “Forty-eight hours?”
The woman laughed. “You got the wrong person. I think I’ve talked to her two or three times in as many years. Johnny calls now and then, good boy that he is. If not for him, I wouldn’t know nothing about her.”
Beau looked at the table. He’d doubted she’d know much, but this was worse. His palms began to sweat.
“She owe you money or something?”
“No,” Beau said emphatically, looking up again. “I’m just trying to get in touch with her.”
“Oh. Well, she works at a bar not too far from here on Sunset Strip. Hey Joe—you know it?”
Beau scrubbed his palm over his stubbled jawline and nodded. “I know the place.”
“She’s got a boyfriend, though—Johnny. And he’s good to her. So whatever you’re after, might be best you just walk away.”
“Thanks for the tip,” he said dryly.
“Sure. Now, what can I get you?”
Beau cocked his head. “What?”
She pointed her pen at the menu. “To eat, honey.”
