Read Online The Thorndyke Trilogy 2: Dancing at Midnight by Lynne Connolly - Free Book Online
Authors: Lynne Connolly
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contact me if you have any problems?” He handed her a card.
“Sure.” No. Not a cat in hell’s chance.
As if he heard her, he frowned. “Promise me. Will you give me your address?”
“No.” That was clear enough. Time to be straight. “Look, I don’t know what’s going to happen here. There’s no guarantee the ballet will take me or that I’ll like it,” she added hastily when she recalled her subterfuge. “And then I’ll be moving on.” Home, most likely.
“Before you do, let me know you’re okay.” He pressed a hot kiss to her lips.
She wouldn’t. He must have plenty of women falling over themselves for him. Last night she was convenient, and maybe he liked her. Here, where he had women to choose from, she wouldn’t stand a chance. She tried not to care.
He studied her face and kissed her again, this time lingering to cup a breast through her T-shirt and caress it softly. Any more and she’d cry. Then she’d hate herself. She was so not a crier.
He pushed his tongue into her mouth and took possession before withdrawing with aching slowness. Then he gazed at her. “Remember, lovers can be friends.” Turning abruptly, he swiped the card through the slot again.
She glanced at the card, which contained only his name, address, and cell number. She guessed he didn’t give this one to many people. Anybody as rich as he was would have a different number for business. She should feel privileged, but she only felt miserable. Shoving the card in her pocket, she told herself she’d only keep it until she got to her brother’s place. A clean break was called for here.
From then on, his touch was impersonal. She refused to let him give her a ride to her place but insisted on getting a cab. Her brother didn’t live in the city like Nathan in his lakeside apartment block, but the cab fare wouldn’t wipe her out. She didn’t want him to know where she was staying, didn’t want any lingering hopes remaining. Teenage memories of sitting by a phone that didn’t ring, waiting for the knock on the door that never came, inured her to that.
Outside his apartment building, he handed the cab driver a fifty. “If you won’t let me take you, let me do this.” His pleading expression made her laugh, but she still felt bad for letting him. Gloom descended on her, contrasting her excitement when she’d left home to come here.
He closed the door behind her and watched as the cab drove off. Never to cross paths again, probably.
He’d look up a Kristen Lowe from Des Moines, maybe find one or two, but he wouldn’t find her. But he’d discover her story of being a famous European star was a fallacy. Oh, shit, why not put the right label on it? A downright lie. However much he’d provoked her, she shouldn’t have done it.
The cab drove out of the city, toward her brother’s place. Not having a car would inconvenience her. She’d call the number Nathan had given her, probably get the car she’d left behind towed to the nearest town, and go from there. Although she never wanted to see it again, she might be able to sell it and get something else.
If she didn’t get the job at the ballet, she’d have to get a waitressing job. Maybe work in a store somewhere. She’d done that before. And she could get around on the L train.
She was thinking defeat before she got there. Even after doing courses in assertion and confidence, she still fell into that trap. It came from years of rejections, being told to her face that she wasn’t as good as the other people there.
But oh, it was good to see her brother standing outside the student house, arms wide in welcome when Kristen climbed out of the cab. But even she didn’t expect to fall into his arms and burst into tears.
* * * *
Stu was studying at St. Paul, doing a good job by all accounts. He’d passed his first year and was well into his sophomore, and lived in a house he shared with two other students.
It was nice to get a room of her own, especially
“Sure.” No. Not a cat in hell’s chance.
As if he heard her, he frowned. “Promise me. Will you give me your address?”
“No.” That was clear enough. Time to be straight. “Look, I don’t know what’s going to happen here. There’s no guarantee the ballet will take me or that I’ll like it,” she added hastily when she recalled her subterfuge. “And then I’ll be moving on.” Home, most likely.
“Before you do, let me know you’re okay.” He pressed a hot kiss to her lips.
She wouldn’t. He must have plenty of women falling over themselves for him. Last night she was convenient, and maybe he liked her. Here, where he had women to choose from, she wouldn’t stand a chance. She tried not to care.
He studied her face and kissed her again, this time lingering to cup a breast through her T-shirt and caress it softly. Any more and she’d cry. Then she’d hate herself. She was so not a crier.
He pushed his tongue into her mouth and took possession before withdrawing with aching slowness. Then he gazed at her. “Remember, lovers can be friends.” Turning abruptly, he swiped the card through the slot again.
She glanced at the card, which contained only his name, address, and cell number. She guessed he didn’t give this one to many people. Anybody as rich as he was would have a different number for business. She should feel privileged, but she only felt miserable. Shoving the card in her pocket, she told herself she’d only keep it until she got to her brother’s place. A clean break was called for here.
From then on, his touch was impersonal. She refused to let him give her a ride to her place but insisted on getting a cab. Her brother didn’t live in the city like Nathan in his lakeside apartment block, but the cab fare wouldn’t wipe her out. She didn’t want him to know where she was staying, didn’t want any lingering hopes remaining. Teenage memories of sitting by a phone that didn’t ring, waiting for the knock on the door that never came, inured her to that.
Outside his apartment building, he handed the cab driver a fifty. “If you won’t let me take you, let me do this.” His pleading expression made her laugh, but she still felt bad for letting him. Gloom descended on her, contrasting her excitement when she’d left home to come here.
He closed the door behind her and watched as the cab drove off. Never to cross paths again, probably.
He’d look up a Kristen Lowe from Des Moines, maybe find one or two, but he wouldn’t find her. But he’d discover her story of being a famous European star was a fallacy. Oh, shit, why not put the right label on it? A downright lie. However much he’d provoked her, she shouldn’t have done it.
The cab drove out of the city, toward her brother’s place. Not having a car would inconvenience her. She’d call the number Nathan had given her, probably get the car she’d left behind towed to the nearest town, and go from there. Although she never wanted to see it again, she might be able to sell it and get something else.
If she didn’t get the job at the ballet, she’d have to get a waitressing job. Maybe work in a store somewhere. She’d done that before. And she could get around on the L train.
She was thinking defeat before she got there. Even after doing courses in assertion and confidence, she still fell into that trap. It came from years of rejections, being told to her face that she wasn’t as good as the other people there.
But oh, it was good to see her brother standing outside the student house, arms wide in welcome when Kristen climbed out of the cab. But even she didn’t expect to fall into his arms and burst into tears.
* * * *
Stu was studying at St. Paul, doing a good job by all accounts. He’d passed his first year and was well into his sophomore, and lived in a house he shared with two other students.
It was nice to get a room of her own, especially
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