“Good workout?” she asks, lifting an eyebrow.
“Great, thanks.” I reply. “Another cracking show from what I hear? I caught the opening few minutes. Sensational, as always, Gloria.”
She gives me a warm smile. “I came up to see if you fancied catching up. Downstairs. In our usual room.” She gives me a flirtatious look and bites her lip.
Gloria’s stunning. Her long black hair is artfully woven off her face and her full mouth is sensual without even trying. She’s got one of those shapes that’s all narrow waist and generous hips, honed with gentle definition from her aerial training.
Our scenes in the past have been powerful but I already know the answer I’m going to give her.
“Not tonight, I’m afraid. But thank you.”
She gives me a look and quirks an eyebrow again.
“Seeing someone, Luke?” she asks, cocking her head.
“No,” I reply. “What makes you say that?”
“You’ve got that look on your face. The kind that says you’ve got someone – a woman, I think? – on your mind.” She gives me a sudden smirk. “I knew it! You do have a woman!”
“I do not!” I reply, a little firmer than I mean to.
She laughs softly. “Sure. Ok. I believe you.” She gives me a big wink. “Be seeing you, then, Mr Pullman.”
“Night, Gloria,” I reply, as she throws one last knowing grin my way and sashays out of the office.
I sigh and scrub a hand over my face. Some nights I can keep the mask in place. Tonight, it feels paper-thin. I need to snap out of this. I step into the bathroom and crank on the shower, leaning my forehead against the cool tiles in an effort to come to my senses.
But Emmy’s face from the other night comes to my mind. The way her expression shifted when I told her I’d been in her shoes. The steady eye contact. The brush of her fingers against my sleeve?—
My traitorous cock perks up and I blow out a frustrated breath. I need to stop thinking about her.
I step under the water and rinse off, cranking the temperature down just before I get out. The jolt hits like an electric shock, and my erection disappears in two seconds flat.
As I towel off, I make a decision. I just need to get back into the rhythm of the club. There’s no shortage of company at Salt. That’s always been the cure: keep moving, keep busy, don’t let the cracks show.
Tomorrow night, I’ll find someone new to scratch the itch – and force Emmy the hell out of my head.
CHAPTER 12
Emmy
“That’s the last box,”I groan, flopping onto the sofa in Sloane’s flat.
“Thank god for that,” Chloe sighs, fanning herself with a stray magazine.
I didn’t think I had much to move in but by the time I’d finished boxing things up, I’d had to call Chloe to borrow her car. There was no way in hell it was going to fit into an Uber. Chloe insisted on driving all of my things from Fulham to Bermondsey, and Sloane’s flat is now covered in boxes.
Sloane and Chloe hit it off instantly. Chloe mouthed “I LIKE HER” at me within five minutes and by the third load of boxes, Sloane was cooing over photos of the kids on Chloe’s phone.
Sloane materialises with coffees, handing them over with a grin.
“This is hardly anything, girl,” she says, taking a sip from her own gargantuan latte. “You couldn’t actually move for boxes when I got here. I practically had to hire a shipping container. But miraculously, it all just sort of squirrels away.”
Her very American pronunciation of squirrels sounds more like “squirls,” and I bite back a smile.
“Well, that’s my workout for the day done,” replies Chloe, sinking into the sofa like she’s never going to move again.
“How about we get you unpacked then head down the road for some brunch? There are some fab places just a few minutes’ walk away. I reckon we only need an hour if we all tackle it together.”
