“I don’t like these men looking at her,” Ryan snapped.
“They can’t see nothin’. She hasn’t flashed her boobs at anyone.”
“I can hear what they’re thinking.” Ryan’s weight shifted from foot to foot, desperate to rid himself of the influx of edginess. It struck him that this was what Julia had tried to tell him when she’d mentioned the single women who hung aroundFrench Letters.
“A lot of women come on to us,” Caleb pointed out. “That must be difficult for Julia.”
“Fuck off,” Ryan said, irked because Caleb read his mind way too often for his comfort.
“All I’m saying is that this is a job for her. She’s turned a sleazy strip club into something classy and sophisticated.”
Caleb’s reasonable tone pissed him off. His friend was right, and that pissed him off too.
“What are you going to tell her?” Caleb asked.
Caleb wasn’t talking about the club or Julia’s performance. He meant the kid who was currently sleeping in the apartment he used to share with Caleb before he’d moved in with Julia. They’d left their grandmotherly neighbor babysitting. “The truth.” Yep, Caleb was doing his best work on Ryan’s last nerve. “What do you expect me to do? I can’t hide the kid. He’s my son.”
Caleb cursed under his breath. “I hope I don’t have any rug-rats out there. I never want to go through today again.”
“You want to try wearing my shoes,” Ryan snapped. Realizing he was delaying seeing his wife, he straightened. “I’m going to talk to Julia.”
“Good luck. I’ll be propping up the bar, watching the action if you need me.”
Up on the stage another performance was ready to start. The crowd seemed to straighten, the heightened interest a living, breathing thing. A purple spotlight flicked on, highlighting a masked brunette woman in a tight purple gown. She held two large purple fans in her hands. The surrounding patrons took a collective breath as they waited for her to commence.
Ryan wove between the tables, eager to see Julia again. A snatched phone call wasn’t enough. A security guard stood in front of the door leading to the dressing room. Ryan didn’t recognize the man.
“You can’t go in there.” The man might be elderly, but he possessed the solid hulk of a rugby forward, the crisp white shirt and black trousers all of Julia’s frontline staff wore highlighting the fact he’d kept up his fitness. “Staff only.”
“I’m Julia’s husband,” Ryan said. “I’ll wait while you check with her.” He appreciated the man’s caution and didn’t mind waiting.
The man returned with Julia on his heels. She bore a wide grin of welcome.
“Ryan, I didn’t expect you so early.” She threw her arms around him and squeezed him hard.
“Caleb and I were able to catch an earlier flight.” Despite the audience, he kissed her, taking his time.Delaying the talk, his conscience prompted because his son was a ticking bomb. “Do you have a minute?” He’d promised the babysitter he’d be back as soon as he’d spoken to Julia.
Her smile died, the pleasure at seeing him fading from her expression. “You look serious.”
He shrugged. “I need to tell you what happened in Sydney.”
Julia led him into the office and shut the door, proud of the way she’d greeted him without a hint of the anger and confusion or the plain panic that roiled like a ship in a storm inside her. “I saw the paper. The kid is yours.”
“Yes.”
Something in the way he answered made her scrutinize him more closely. She swallowed, afraid of what he might say next. Mentally, she ordered herself to calm down, but fearful thoughts collided with the secrets she’d kept, shoving her frustration levels higher. She cleared her throat, intending to ask about the child. That wasn’t what emerged. “I can’t have children,” she said baldly, cringing inside while she waited for the fallout. “Not easily because of the STD I caught.”
“What?”
She closed her eyes, pain stabbing her chest, making it difficult to breathe, to think. She groped for the words to make him understand. She should have told him about the baby weeks ago, but talking about it brought back horrid memories of pain and feeling achingly alone. Loss. Guilt. The panic she’d experienced when she couldn’t contact Ryan, the awful moment when she finally accepted they were over. “I’ve tried to tell you a dozen times.”
Ryan gaped at her. “But we talked about children. Why didn’t you tell me when I moved in with you?”
“How?” she demanded, her nostrils flaring. Heat flushed her cheeks as she fought the urge to fling an empty coffee cup at his head. “It’s hard enough to think about, let alone talk to anyone else. You told me you wanted children when the time was right. What did you want me to say?”
“Do your friends know?”
It was difficult to read him, with his hard face devoid of emotion. Yet his pale blue eyes bored into her, demanding answers, returning her glower with interest. She swallowed hard and studied her red shoes, noting the scuff on the left one.
