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Chapter Five
“WHAT’S wrong?” Alyssa asked as Luc sped through the night, toward her house.
Three a.m. wasn’t the best time for a heart-to-heart, but he exuded a fuck-off vibe like she’d never felt from him before. Something grim rolled off him in choking waves, and though she knew he wouldn’t welcome the conversation, she felt his pain and couldn’t remain quiet.
“Nothing.” He bit out the word.
“So you always run red lights for the hell of it?”
Luc’s body tensed. “Shit. Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Did He-Man say something to upset you?”
His hands tensed on the wheel. “Deke is still looking at your security system. He’ll call in a few when he’s done.”
A non-answer. Luc was good at evasion. Then again, maybe this had nothing to do with his cousin.
“Look, if your foul mood has anything to do with what happened in the kitchen earlier—”
“It’s over, it’s done, and it’s not happening again.”
Like hell. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I gotta tell you, Chef, I don’t think your new girlfriend is keeping you satisfied.”
“Keep her out of this.”
“If there’s one thing I know, it’s men. And if you were happy, today wouldn’t have happened.”
“Nothing happened.”
“Something almost did.”
Luc was quiet for long seconds. Alyssa cursed under her breath. She’d pushed too hard. Maybe tomorrow would be a better time to talk.
“We haven’t been seeing each other long. We haven’t . . . Sex isn’t the point of the relationship.”
Translation: He hadn’t slept with this woman. As sexual as Luc was, seriously? Alyssa was happier about that than she should have been.
“What? You two play Scrabble together?”
“Just drop it,” he growled.
For now. “All right. Thank you for helping me with Primpton today. I didn’t get a chance to tell you how much I appreciate you defending me.”
“He’s a disingenuous prick trying to stir up trouble to either elevate himself or his bullshit cause. I would have defended anyone he trashed.”
Maybe that was true. But if Luc had nothing but contempt for her, he wouldn’t bother. He must have some other feelings for her. She just had to figure out what and how to grow them.
“Which is part of the reason you attract me,” she said softly. “You have a good heart.”
“Alyssa—”
“Yeah, I know. I was a good fuck, and now you don’t want to talk about it.”
Damn it, she should have been subtler. She had to keep control of her emotions and use her head, or he would bolt.
Silent minutes slid by again; then he surprised her by asking, “What happened to your mom?”
“Who told—?” She sighed. “Fucking Tyler. He doesn’t know when to shut up.”
“Two weeks isn’t long to grieve.”
Alyssa hesitated. Answer him and open up a potential door of pain? Shut him out and end the rapport and another chance to show him that she was a real woman under the garters?
“We weren’t close. Her absence doesn’t alter my day-to-day life. She was my blood, and I know I should feel like part of me is missing . . . and in a way, I guess I do. When I first heard, I went through the shock and denial. Anger consumed me for a few days. Now I just feel . . . numb.”
His gaze softened. “You’re still processing.”
“I guess. I’ve never really lost anyone before.” She wrapped her arms around her middle.
When she thought of her mother’s death, a tight emptiness cramped her gut. But she couldn’t manage to cry. Maybe too many years had gone by. Maybe she was still too angry.
“Allergic reaction,” she murmured. “My mother was violently allergic to peanuts. Somehow a trace of them made it into her food and . . . she didn’t get medication in time.”
“I’m sorry.” He reached across the distance separating them and grabbed her hand.
She squeezed it. Now that she was talking about her mother, it wasn’t that hard. “I think what bothers me the most is knowing that, because she’s gone, we can’t resolve what was wrong between us. It can never be fixed.”
“And you regret the time you spent apart?”
Big, tough question. “Yes and no. I wish things could have been different, but they couldn’t.”
Luc released her hand to focus on driving again, and she felt the withdrawal of his touch like a pang. Why did she crave this man who wanted her far more than he liked her? And way, way more than he respected her?
“I know it’s none of my business, but did she . . . disapprove of your career?”
Alyssa sent him a bitter laugh. “Dancing around a pole isn’t a career; it’s a way to make ends meet. And no. She didn’t know. I appreciate you listening, but there’s nothing you can do to change the fact we’ll never have the chance to speak again.”
“Is your mom one of the reasons you help the other dancers improve their lives?”
“No. I improved myself for me and me alone. I don’t give a shit what other people think. But if these girls have the drive, I want them to better their own situations because they want more for themselves. They’ll need the fortitude to manage a grueling schedule.”
Luc nodded. “Sounds like eighteen-hour days.”
“Often.”
He sent her a measuring stare. “But you did it—more than once.”
“As I said, I’m a business owner. And I have ambitions.”
Alyssa saw the moment he understood.
“That’s what Bonheur is about. You want . . . what? Normalcy? Respect?”
Luc was getting uncomfortably close to the truth, and it would probably make him laugh. Likely he thought her chances for respectability had died when Clinton was still president.
“It’s just a restaurant,” she protested weakly.
“No. Bonheur is your happiness.”
She swallowed. He’d guessed that quickly, but she was afraid to admit he was right aloud. Would he laugh? What if the restaurant failed and she had to continue dancing? What happened when she got too old for even that?
“I’m not ashamed of myself,” she snapped.
He understood her, but not completely—and she couldn’t allow him to. She wanted to feel his body against hers, his heart beating with hers. She wanted his love, and yes, his respect. He could be as sexually demanding as he wanted, but he had no right to expect her to just hand him her soul on a silver platter. He was probing into a past she never discussed. With anyone. Blabbing about it wasn’t going to change a damn thing. And who needed the pain of dredging it up when it did no good?
Luc turned to her, his expression startlingly solemn. “I’m sorry for your loss. I hope you find the happiness you deserve.”
WHEN they reached the house, Alyssa hopped from the car before he could get her door or say a word. She was hiding something. Luc was beginning to understand her . . . yet there was a whole chunk of her he didn’t grasp at all. It shouldn’t matter. He wasn’t staying, and he couldn’t again be her lover—even temporarily.
Then why did he feel a driving urge to figure her out?
The pain. That note in her voice, the tightening of her sultry features. The past, her mother—something beyond normal grief—hurt her. Pride hit a note in there, too. Despite her pole-dancing ways, she’d taken the time to thoroughly educate herself. She helped others with the drive to do the same.
What the fuck did it say about him that, in this moment, he wanted to slay her proverbial dragons for her?
Luc stormed in the house, just a few steps behind her. The conversation should be done . . . but he wasn’t ready to end it yet. He had more to decipher.
But the phone in his pocket vibrated, and he pulled it out with a curse. Deke.
He pressed the talk button. “Talk to me.”
“It ain’t good, man. Sophisticated shit. Someone who knew a thing or ten about security systems tampered with the sensors in her upstairs windows, then rigged the control panel to automatically bypass that zone.”
So the culprit wasn’t a drunk frat boy or a prankster. “Shit.”
“I’ve fixed it again and put a trigger on it. If anyone so much as breathes on the device, it will sound an alarm. When Jack gets back, I’ll have him look at it, too, see if there’s anything else we can do to keep this place tight.”
“Thanks.”
“Keep a close eye on Alyssa. Someone wanted to get to her badly enough to screw with a top-notch security system. That’s expertise or a shitload of money to buy the expertise. Makes me wonder just how hard this prick is for her.”
Luc wondered the same thing and cursed.
“I’ll stay close to her, especially until Jack returns.” Wouldn’t that do wonders for his restraint? But he couldn’t worry about that now when Alyssa’s safety might be in jeopardy.
“Need some hardware?”
Guns weren’t his favorite, but Deke had made sure he was efficient and accurate. Luc wasn’t registered to carry in Louisiana, but the situation was too serious to worry about technicalities.
“That’s probably a wise idea.”
“Give me a day or so. I’ll be back with everything you need.”
“I appreciate it.”
Deke hesitated. “I’d do anything for you, man.”
Except allow him to play daddy to this coming baby. Not that Luc should expect it. Or deserved it after the way he’d manipulated Kimber and his cousin.
“Same here,” he said finally.
“You okay with the baby and everything?”
No. The news of Deke’s pending fatherhood had nearly staggered him to his knees, left him unable to breathe. Deke now had everything Luc had ever wanted. Kimber and his cousin had barely tried to conceive and . . . Luc sighed. He was thrilled for them. For himself, he despaired.
And he didn’t want to talk about it again. Think about it, even. His own failure as a man was sharp enough without the rehash.
This week he couldn’t do a damn thing to move closer to his dream. Until he returned home, he had to focus on his promise to Alyssa and now on keeping her safe.
At the top of his list had to be figuring out who her stalker was. His best suspects were Primpton, a nut job if he’d ever seen one. Or Peter, the frat boy who had money and apparently hadn’t learned the meaning of the word “no.”
But what about Tyler? Would the bouncer manufacture terror so that Alyssa felt it necessary to be closer to him? He was shifty enough, but after tonight’s display at the club, Luc couldn’t see why he’d have to. Tyler could touch her any way, anytime, he wanted.
Finally, Luc answered Deke the only way he could. “You deserve to be happy. I’m thrilled for you both.”
“Maybe you should . . . get tested again. It’s been a while, right?”
Years, but nothing would change the fact he had a ridiculously low sperm count. Enduring the humiliation of jacking off into a plastic tube again made no sense. “There are other ways. I’ve read recently about a surgery that extracts sperm. I’m also looking into adoption. Or maybe I’ll find someone with small kids or . . . There are options.”
“Absolutely. All great ones.”
“I’ll work it out. In the meantime, take care of your sweet wife and give her my regards.”
“Will do.” Deke sounded reluctant, but he dropped the subject and ended the call.
As soon as Luc pocketed his phone, he swore and did his best to push aside the turmoil brewing in his gut. He had more pressing problems now.
He should have checked the house before letting Alyssa burst in. If someone had breached her car and her club, it seemed logical he might hit her house next—and perhaps make the attack more personal.
Thanking God that nothing in the house looked disturbed, Luc bounded up the stairs two at a time with a pounding heart. He reached the landing quickly. Light spilled from her bedroom door, and he eased inside.
A rumpled bed, feminine knickknacks scattered across the dresser, a book on the bedside table. Nothing out of place.
But a trail of clothing snagged his attention. Strewn across the gleaming hardwood floor, her tank top, filmy white skirt, silky hose, black garter belt, and lacy bra lay a step or two apart. Heart beating even harder, he followed the pieces to her half-open bathroom door. A barely there thong with a rhinestone-studded GODDESS hung from the knob. Luc leaned to the right and saw inside.
And lost his ability to breathe.
Alyssa had pinned her hair atop her head in a haphazard twist and filled her jetted tub with bubbles. She leaned back and sensuously soaped her gleaming skin with a pink loofah. Closing her eyes, she sighed.
Instantly, he got hard enough to pound steel.
Luc had ascertained that she was safe and no one had broken into her house. He knew needed to back the hell away now. But like last night when he’d watched her bring herself to orgasm, he couldn’t seem to make his feet move.