“I thoughtThe Last Frontiersaid it all,” Susan said.
“I’m talking aboutMaxwell’s,” Julia said. “A different vintage all together.”
“Nice,” Maggie said. “Stylish.”
“Perfect,” Ryan said.
“What about Hollywood glamour as a theme?” Christina asked, leaning across the table to be heard. “Perhaps even a hint of Art Deco.”
“What sort of theme does this place have?” Connor asked.
“It’s cozy and intimate, but the furnishings are bland.” Christina dissected the club’s interior with an artist’s eye. “They’ve played it safe. You need to deliver an experience for your customers. Something they’ll talk about for weeks after the event—in a good way. Get the word-of-mouth thing going.”
Excitement flared inside Julia. Her friends were right. Myriad clubs had opened and closed on K’ Road over the years. Her mother’s club had weathered the competition and remained an institution. Now it was time to reinvent and carve out a new niche.
“You’re excited by the challenge,” Ryan murmured.
Yes. Yes, she was. “I can do this.”
“I had no doubts. Look at your friends. They don’t have an ounce of uncertainty either. We’re on your team, Julia.”
Julia coughed delicately to shift the growing lump lodged in her windpipe. He might be right when it came to the club, but he’d have to go back on the road with the band. They’d be separated because the club would keep her tethered to Auckland.
“Don’t,” he whispered. “I can hear you thinking. This marriage will work. I won’t see it any other way.”
“Theory is fine. It’s the practical things that’ll make a relationship between us difficult.” She winced, emotion a tight fist interfering with her heartbeat. “What about children?”Oh, god. What was she doing?
His brows drew together, gentle fingers tipping up her chin, forcing her to meet his direct gaze. “You want children?”
A familiar pain gripped her, losing her baby tormenting her like an infected tooth. She forced out a light laugh and managed quite well. No one would guess her feelings, the despondency still hiding bone deep in her soul. No, she’d never wanted children—not until she’d discovered she was pregnant.
His expression changed, making her realize she’d hesitated too long. He’d deciphered her silence as negative. She hurried into speech. “We never discussed children.”
“No.” His eyes narrowed on her in silent regard, but luckily he didn’t ask questions or poke at the barely scabbed wound. “We didn’t discuss a lot of things. I’m looking forward to learning more about you and making up the deficit.”
“Besides, children wouldn’t work with you on tour.” She fell silent, aware she was laboring the topic, yet unable to stop herself.
His stare forced the creep of heat up her neck.Yeah, stupid!She should have kept her big mouth firmly shut. “What do you think of the club? What are they doing that Mum isn’t atThe Last Frontier?”
“The exclusive vibe seems to work for them. The service is adequate, but not perfect. Ambiance is okay—nothing special or memorable, but the presenter is a nice touch. Their dancer isn’t as good as you, but everyone seems to appreciate her act.” He gestured toward a table of men, most in their early twenties.
His summation of facts, the same observations she’d already assimilated in her mind let some of her panic retreat.
“How long did you work for your mother at the club?”
Her stress levels took off again, soaring to breath-stealing heights. The minute someone learned of her past, they treated her differently. Mention the words exotic dancer and most minds took the straight leap to sex and prostitution. While she wasn’t ashamed of stripping, she didn’t broadcast it either.
Connor returned with a tray of drinks, thankfully interrupting their quiet discussion. She accepted a glass of wine with a smile and set it down while glancing around the club, jumping deeper into analyzing mode.
“Julia, you haven’t answered my question.” Ryan’s quiet insistence had her reaching for her glass.
She took a healthy swig, offering little respect to the crisp notes of summer fruit. Her stomach churned as she took a second sip. Irritation layered on top of her panic and fear, and an outrageous thought struck her. Hell, prevarication wasn’t working. Why shouldn’t she hit him with the truth? “I worked at the club from the age of sixteen.”
“Sixteen, but that’s—”
“Underage,” she interrupted. “I know, but I needed money to pay for clothes and secretarial courses. I had to save because my mother put in everything she had to pay off the mortgage on the place. I worked at the club and left once I turned nineteen.” She damned up the spill of words and waited for his horrified reaction, waited for him to conclude he’d married a prostitute. Even now, the taunts from kids at primary school burned her ears. She recalled in excruciating detail every hushed conversation from her school friends’ parents. Yeah, she’d learned firsthand how people judged.
It shouldn’t matter if Ryan formed the same opinion as others but it did. When he’d asked her to marry him, she’d considered a confession and finally talked herself into not saying anything. The why of her decision became important now. Her breath whooshed out, her streak of honesty kicking her on the butt.
She’d loved Ryan and hadn’t wanted to risk losing him. The irony of it was she’d lost him anyway.
