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MAK STRODE INTO Embue as if she owned the place, confident that she’d achieved the impression she’d aimed for and then some.
Smoky eyes. Siren-red lips. Sleek blow-dried hair. Killer heels. And a strapless, knee-length, figure-hugging emerald sheath that had got her more second dates than she could count.
Earlier today, auditioning for Hudson had rattled her. Tonight, she wanted to assert her dominance and show him who was boss.
A tad overdramatic, maybe, and in reality she’d have to be deferential and respectful because she really needed this job. But dressing like this ensured she felt good and the way her insides quivered with nerves she needed all the help she could get.
Her mum had taught her many life lessons, and dress to impress had been one of them. It didn’t matter whether she was doing a yoga class early on a Saturday morning or picking up groceries on her way home, she always wore lipstick and mascara. She felt naked without them. And while her budget might be verging on dire, she managed to find outfits at second-hand shops that garnered compliments.
As she caught sight of herself in one of the many mirrors lining the club, she squared her shoulders and stood tall. She could do this. Meet with Hudson. Convince him to hire her. Dance her ass off for however long this show ran. Definitely doable.
Until she caught sight of him striding towards her, and her tummy went into free fall, her confidence following suit.
This was Hudson.
The guy she’d secretly crushed on for years.
The guy she’d idolised.
The guy who’d been the best friend a girl could wish for.
The guy who’d seen her stark naked, at her most vulnerable, and turned his back on her.
Crap.
‘Hey, Mak, glad you could make it.’ He held out his hand, like it was the most natural thing in the world they shake in greeting, when it had once been customary for them to exchange a kiss on the cheek. ‘Let’s head into the studio to talk.’
Mak managed a mute nod, surreptitiously swiping her palm against the side of her dress when he released it. Yeah, like that would stop the tingles creeping up her arm.
It had been years since she’d seen him, so why the same irrational reaction, as if her body recognised on some visceral level what her brain refused to acknowledge?
She should hate him for how he’d treated her, how he’d dismissed their friendship without a second thought. But she couldn’t afford to let her residual bitterness towards him flare now. This job had to come first.
‘How was your day?’ He cast her a sidelong glance, as if he couldn’t gauge her mood. Join the club. She didn’t have a clue how to act around him now that her faux confidence had dwindled on sight.
‘Same old,’ she said with a shrug. ‘I work part-time at a patisserie. Le Miel. You may have heard of it?’
Of course he had, considering his boss Tanner had worked there temporarily while his brother Remy had been laid up in hospital following a fall. And Abby knew him, which meant he’d know she worked there, too. But she wanted to see how honest he’d be, how their new working relationship would pan out from the start.
He was staring at her as if he knew she’d been trying to trip him up somehow. ‘Tanner’s my best bud, so yeah, I know it. And I’ve met Abby, she’s lovely.’
Relieved he’d been honest, she nodded. ‘They’re both good people.’
He cast her a quizzical look. ‘Are you okay?’
No, she wasn’t. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t pretend they didn’t have a past. Like the argument that had ruined their friendship never happened. Like she wasn’t still hurting that he’d thought so little of her; that he hadn’t known her as well as she’d thought he did.
‘Honestly? I’m having a hard time accepting you as my potential boss considering we share a past.’
He didn’t react. In fact, she couldn’t see a flicker of acknowledgement on his stoic face bar a slight clenching of his jaw. How did he do that? Hold his emotions so closely in check when she was having a hard time not blurting every single thing she wanted to say to him?
‘Let’s talk in here.’ He pushed the double doors to the studio open and waited until she’d passed through before closing them.
Makayla should’ve relaxed stepping into the studio with its familiar set-up of stage, mirrors, steel rails lining the walls and spotlights. The space was new, or rarely used, because it didn’t have the familiar smell of stale sweat and greasepaint. Maybe that explained her nerves.
A crock and she knew it. Her nerves had everything to do with the man staring at her with trepidation, as if he knew she was about to unleash years’ worth of home truths.
Before she could speak, he held up his hand, annoyingly imperious. ‘I know we need to talk about what happened back then. But before we do, I want you to know you’ve got the job of lead dancer. Your audition blew me away and I’m not saying that out of some warped case of guilt because of how things ended between us, I’m saying it because you’re incredibly talented and I need this show to succeed, so I want you in it.’
He blew out a long breath after his ramble and in that moment she realised he was nervous, too. Hudson didn’t do long-winded speeches. Less was more for him when it came to words. So the fact he’d blurted all that indicated he was just as nervous as she was.
‘Thanks, I’m thrilled to get the job.’ She sounded formal, stilted, and cleared her throat, wondering how long she’d have the job for once she said what needed to be said. ‘But the last time we saw each other you basically called me a whore and it’s difficult getting past that.’
He flinched as if she’d struck him. ‘I didn’t—’
‘You didn’t use the word but it was pretty damn clear from everything else you said what you thought of me.’
That night was imprinted on her brain. The night she’d been so desperate to give her mum the funeral she deserved that she’d shelved her principles and done whatever it took to get the money she needed.
Hudson hadn’t given her a chance to explain. He’d taken one look at her stripping on stage and flipped out. She’d expected better from her best friend. She’d expected so much more than what she’d got.
While time should’ve eased her resentment it hadn’t, and seeing him again seemed to bring it all back in a mortifying rush.
She remembered every single moment of that humiliating night in excruciating detail. Pretending not to care when the club owner leered at her, demanding she strip down to bra and panties so he could see the goods before he gave her the gig. Throwing up before she went on stage. The stench of cheap aftershave and beer when she’d been taking her clothes off.
And in the midst of her degradation, she’d spotted Hudson, staring at her as if she were the worst person in the world.
His opinion mattered to her. He mattered to her and having him witness her shameful, demeaning show had crushed her. She’d been desperate to explain. He hadn’t let her. His appalling lecture had rung in her ears long after he’d stormed out.
Now she had to dredge all that up so they could move forward as professionals. Ugh.
‘I’m sorry.’ He leaned against the nearest wall, looking like a cool, impervious model, not a guy hell-bent on repentance. ‘That was the night I landed the job at Embue and I came looking for you to share my good news. Bluey told me he’d seen you entering Le Chat so I headed there.’ He shook his head, remorse twisting his mouth. It was an improvement on the loathing she’d seen all those years ago. ‘I freaked out. Said some things I shouldn’t have—’
‘You were my best friend! You should’ve trusted me.’ She swallowed down the lump of emotion lodged in her throat, making her voice embarrassingly squeaky. ‘I didn’t owe you any explanations then and I sure as hell don’t owe you any now, but that was the worst night of my life and having you witness my mortification, then berate me for it, sucked big time. Then you turned your back on me...’
Damn, if she didn’t wind this up soon she’d end up crying and that wasn’t the professional impression she wanted to present.
‘Maybe it was for the best, us moving on with our lives separately, leaving the Cross behind, but there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t miss the friendship we once had.’ There, she’d said it, though she ended on an embarrassing half hiccup that had her wishing the ground would open up.
Hudson didn’t say a word. He just stared at her, sadness down-turning his mouth, before he crossed the short space between them and enveloped her in a hug that squeezed the air from her lungs.
She resisted for a moment, not wanting the physical contact, not wanting anything from him bar this job. But this was Hudson, the guy she’d depended on almost as much as her mum, and if her brain resisted her body had other ideas. His arms were strong around her, crushing her like a steel band, his warmth staving off the chill that had invaded her bones around the time they’d started this conversation.
Breathless, she finally relaxed into him, and as if sensing her capitulation, he hugged her tighter if that were possible. It should’ve ended there. An apologetic embrace between two old friends who’d been torn apart in the past but now had to work together.
Instead, she felt the shift between them, the exact moment the hug became something else. His woodsy aftershave, something expensive, probably designer, made her nose tingle. His warmth turned to heat where it pressed against her. His hand splayed in her lower back, grazed the top of her ass. Something semi-hard nudged her hip.
He pulled away but didn’t release her, as she tilted her head up. ‘I’m not proud of the way I treated you that night and I’ve regretted losing our friendship over it. But I care about you, Mak, I always have, so if you’d let me I’d like to be friends again.’
He sounded sincere and his eyes blazed with untold emotion, but she couldn’t forget how badly he’d once hurt her. If young Hudson had had the power to do that, the older, sexier version would be a lot more dangerous if she let him get close again.
‘We can try,’ she said, sounding flippant, but still caught up in the weird unspoken tension shimmering between them. ‘I’m a professional and I intend on making the most of the opportunity you’ve given me.’
‘I wasn’t talking about work and you know it,’ he said, his low voice rippling over her like a caress, making her all too aware she hadn’t pulled out of his arms yet.
She should. She should establish a clear boundary between them from the outset, but when his burning gaze dropped to her mouth and her nipples hardened in response she knew it would take more than putting space between them to reinforce all they shared was a working relationship.
She’d always been like this around him, hyperaware, like her body was somehow invisibly, intrinsically attuned to his. He hadn’t known back then; she’d been too good at hiding it. It should’ve dissipated over the years, disappeared completely, but the longer he stared at her with blatant hunger, the harder she found it to remember why she had to maintain distance from him.
‘We can try the friendship thing,’ she said, finally willing her legs to move and breaking free of his embrace by backing away a few steps. ‘But I’ll give you a heads-up. I’m not the same naive girl I once was.’
‘And I’m not the same narrow-minded jerk I once was.’ His lopsided grin catapulted her back in time to the many times that same smile had made her young, impressionable heart beat faster. ‘Now we’ve established we’ve both grown up, shall we talk business?’
‘Absolutely.’ Her emphatic nod sent her hair tumbling over her shoulders and she pushed it back, a simple, innocuous action with complicated results when Hudson’s gaze locked on her hair as if he wanted to bury his face in it.
Hell. She could do friendship in a pinch but anything more between them would be disastrous. He might not know it but he’d given her a big break professionally in hiring her for this lead dancer role. She couldn’t screw it up. She wouldn’t. No matter how much intrigue spurred her on to see exactly how hot Hudson was beneath that cool facade.
‘Tell me about the show,’ she said, sounding fake and upbeat and perky, while she couldn’t ignore the way heat flared inside at the way he stared at her like he’d been given the keys to his favourite ice-cream store.
He eyeballed her and in that moment she saw he faced the same inner battle she did. Lust versus logic. Curiosity warring with common sense. Desire battling deprivation.
Crap. She might have just landed a dream job but she had a feeling she’d landed neck-deep in a load of trouble, too.
‘Tell me about you first.’ He gestured at a bar stool, indicating she sit. She didn’t want to. She wanted to stand so she could make a run for it if she needed to.
Because being in Hudson’s arms had resurrected a whole host of feelings she’d long suppressed. She should hate him for how he’d treated her and their friendship. Instead, she’d accepted his apology, even though he hadn’t explained why he’d behaved so appallingly towards her, and agreed to try the friendship thing now.
Was she insane?
‘Not much to tell.’ She perched on the edge of the stool, ready to flee at the slightest sign of awkwardness. ‘I attended uni for a while, doing a bachelor of applied dance in the hope I could teach as well as perform. But I hated the rigidity of classes so lasted less than six months.’
His eyebrows rose, as if he couldn’t believe she’d even consider a career in teaching. ‘I can’t imagine you being an instructor.’
She instantly bristled. ‘Why not?’
‘Because you’ve always had talent and haven’t you heard the old cliché, those who can do, those who can’t teach?’
Assuaged by his compliment, she continued. ‘Guess I’m a cliché then, because once I focussed on dancing, I never looked back.’
‘The agency sent across the CVs of all applicants auditioning.’ He hesitated. ‘You’ve had tons of experience but no starring roles?’
Damn him for homing in on her weakness.
‘What’s with the twenty questions?’ She sounded snappish and didn’t care.
He was her boss, she was his employee, that was where it ended. She didn’t need him treating her like a friend catching up for old times’ sake. It blurred lines and she preferred perfectly delineated boundaries. She couldn’t deal with anything else, not now, when seeing him again had resurrected so many feelings, many of them bad.
‘Because I want to know what makes you tick these days.’ He reached out and touched her above her heart. ‘In here.’
It had been nothing more than a fleeting brush of his fingertips against her skin; a barely there touch that shouldn’t have mattered. But it did, because heat flooded her body, most of it ending up in her cheeks.
‘I said I’d try the friendship thing. Don’t push it,’ she said, easing him away with her index finger.
He laughed, the same rich, deep sound she remembered and damned if she didn’t prickle with awareness. Everywhere.
‘Friends ask about each other’s interests. They chat. They tease—’
‘No teasing.’
It was one of the things she’d loved most about him back then, his ability to make her laugh.
‘You used to love it when I taunted you.’ He leaned forward as if to prove it, invading her personal space, his mouth mere inches from her ear. ‘Just because we haven’t seen each other in years doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten anything.’
Damn.
Did he know how she’d felt back then? Was that why he was torturing her now?
Though it was more than two friends getting reacquainted and she knew it. There was a sexual tension between them, simmering beneath the surface, deliberately ignored but there all the same.
Not good.
‘Then you’ll remember how much I hated you bugging me when I was doing homework and not much has changed.’ She elbowed him away, and he clutched at his side in mock outrage. ‘I’m your employee. I need to focus, not be distracted by...by...you,’ she finished lamely, not wanting to articulate exactly how badly the ever-present attraction between them was making her lose focus and her cool.
‘You find me distracting?’ His low voice made it sound like she’d found him naked.
‘I find you painful.’
Her dry response made him laugh again. ‘Tell me you don’t feel more comfortable now than when you first came in?’
So that was what he’d been doing. Trying to put her at ease. She should’ve been relieved. Instead, a familiar mortification in his presence swamped her; had she imagined the attraction between them?
His boner during their hug could’ve meant nothing, a simple physiological reaction guys got when in close proximity with a woman. And his banter could’ve been exactly as he’d said, a way to put her at ease.
To her chagrin, he squeezed her hand, like a friend would do.
‘Look, Mak, we have to work together. I think it’s great we’ve confronted the past and reached a point where we can talk like this. It’ll make the next few weeks a hell of a lot easier.’
He was right, of course. While they couldn’t resume their old friendship, they had to be civil.
But he hadn’t released her hand, and as she stared at it, his strong tanned fingers wrapped around hers, she couldn’t help but think that for a guy who professed friendship, he’d been teetering on the brink of overstepping the mark.
As if to reinforce it, his thumb brushed across the back of her hand in a slow, languorous sweep that made her tingle and bite back a moan.
Hell.
She could do friendship with Hudson.
Anything else could only end in disaster.
