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Oops. Had that sounded like an invitation? Had she meant it to?
She led him around the privacy partition that separated the sleeping area from the rest of the apartment, relieved to see that she had, indeed, made the bed.
The four-poster bed, which filled most of the small space, was the only truly valuable piece of furniture Lia owned. Inherited from a great-aunt, it was crafted from rich, dark mahogany, each corner graced by towering, fluted posts. A canopy of richly colored damask draped elegantly over the top. The bed was set quite high off the ground, making it necessary for Lia to use a small stool to access it comfortably. The stool, made from the same rich mahogany, had come with the bed.
She haddraped the walls of the bedroom in diaphanous fabrics that cascaded from ceiling to floor, tiny fairy lights woven throughout. She flicked them on now so he could get the full effect.
“Whoa. This place is like a fairy tale come to life—if the fairy godmother was on acid,” he teased.
“You’re just jealous,” she teased back.
“I am,” he deadpanned. “I always wanted a bedroom straight out of a Disney movie.” He glanced around. “All it’s missing are the cartoon birds and butterflies.” He stepped closer to the bed, gripping one of the wooden bedposts. “Now,theseI approve of. Perfect for wrist and ankle cuffs and plenty of rope. I’m surprised you hadn’t thought of that.”
“What makes you think I haven’t?”
He glanced at his watch. “We have a little time before we head over to the university. Why don’t you get out of those clothes? I’ll grab my gear bag and we can test out my hypothesis right now.”
Lia swallowed, her hand coming up to her rope collar, butterflies swooping in her stomach. “I, um…” she hedged, not sure what was happening. Were things shifting from trainer/trainee to something more? Was she ready for that? Was he?
The doorbell suddenly chimed, followed immediately by a loud, persistent knocking.
“Yoo hoo,” a familiar voice trilled through the cheap, plywood front door. “Are you in there, Magnolia?” More insistent knocking. “Let me in, dear. I don’t like standing on someone’s stoop like the hired help.”
“Fuck,” Lia swore in a whisper. “It’s my mom.”
Beau lifted his brows. “Magnolia?”
“Horrible, right? My sisters are Lily and Zinnia.”
The doorbell rang again, several times.
“Aren’t you going to let her in? Sounds like she’s pretty determined.”
“You have no idea.” Lia took a step and then said, “You should stay back here. It’ll be simpler.”
Without giving him a chance to reply, she hurried through the apartment to the front door and yanked it open. “Hi, Mom.”
Loretta held severalBette Boutiquezippered dress bags draped over one arm. Without replying, Loretta stopped abruptly, looking eagerly around. “Where is your young man?”
“My what?”
What the hell?
“Your young man. I was just pulling into the lot when I saw the two of you going inside. It took me ages to find a parking spot. I don’t knowwhyyou felt you had to get this place when you have a perfectly good bedroom at home. Why didn’t youtellme you’re seeing someone? Youknowhow your father and I worry. You’re not getting any younger, Magnolia.”
Instinctively, Lia moved in front of her mother, blocking her from coming any farther into the apartment. “Mom, please. You can’t just—”
But Loretta wasn’t listening. Her face, twisted a moment before in a frown of disapproval, smoothed suddenly into a wide, welcoming smile. “Oh, my,” she breathed, her free hand fluttering to her chest.
“Hello, there,” Beau called from behind Lia. “You must be Mrs. Duvall. I’m Beau. Beauregard Jackson.”
Chapter 18
“Take these.” Lia’s mom dumped the dress bags into her daughter’s arms. Lia twisted back to look at Beau, a pleading expression on her face he couldn’t quite parse. He offered a minute shrug. He couldn’t very well have remained out of sight since Mrs. Duvall had obviously seen them entering Lia’s place.
Lia’s mother pushed past her, holding out her hands as she made a beeline for Beau. She was an attractive woman in her fifties, with blond hair pulled back in a large bow at the nape of her neck, a pair of tasteful drop pearl earrings dangling from her lobes. Taller than Lia, though not by much, she wore a tailored knee-length dress of navy blue with three-quarter sleeves, her waist cinched with a slim white belt, her feet shod in pointed-toe pumps of a matching navy.
“Beauregard Jackson.” She rolled the words like hard candies in her mouth. “Idodeclare, it’s an absolute pleasure to make your acquaintance.” She gripped both his hands in hers. “You simplymustcall me Loretta.”
