Love & Learn Read online

  She was still staring at him. Then she sighed. She switched off the cracked screen and slipped the phone into her pocket. Her gaze wandered down his tall body and stopped at the stone stairs in front of his feet. Another sigh.

  He took a step back, moving down the stairs with a slight shrug of the shoulders. “Cheer up,” he said, still with that weird cheerfulness in his voice. “No point in crying over lost cheese.” What? Had he lost his mind?

  “There goes my dinner,” she muttered and looked both ways down the street before pushing past him down the stairs. There was something tense about her shoulders.

  Henry looked at the ham and cheese on the grey stone slab. He wasn’t much of an eater, but that there was no one’s definition of dinner. What a weird woman. He followed her down the stairs. As she reached the pavement, she looked both ways again, and then started walking to the left, in the direction of the corner where he’d planned to grab a cab. He couldn’t very well just stay here, or go the other way, just so that he wouldn’t appear stalker-y. He started walking in the same direction, a few steps behind her.

  She glanced over her shoulder, seeing him following her. Was it just his imagination, or did she increase her pace? He looked around. There was no one else around. But he wasn’t the type of man that made women feel unsafe, not even late at night on a dark street like this. Or was he?

  She was definitely hurrying to get away from him. Henry slowed his steps to create some distance. Another glance over her shoulder. He looked away, tried not to appear aware of her.

  But he was. Oh, he was very much aware of her.

  Even though he had seen that rounded butt completely naked less than half an hour ago, there was something about it in those worn jeans that made his blood, if not boil, then definitely simmer. If he hadn’t gone so completely off women over the last few years, he would have tried to hit on her. Just for one night, before he set off on his book tour. A quick, no-strings-attached one-night stand would have relaxed him after all the stress with his publisher and lifted his mood before the many mundane interviews he would have to suffer through.

  Aargh, he was so not looking forward to this book tour. He hated this part of being a bestselling author. Too bad that there was nothing else he was any good at, apart from writing books.

  She was almost at the corner now, and there was some distance between them. God, she was stunning. Even in those awful clothes. But clothes came off, and knowing what was underneath them … He wasn’t like Peter; he didn’t fall in love with a pair of large breasts. But he appreciated the female form.

  And it had been so long since he had … appreciated a woman.

  4

  Lizzie

  God, that bastard was still following her. Lizzie looked up and down the street for a cab. Not that she could afford one, but she had to get out of here. Now!

  She couldn’t believe that her phone was busted. She’d tried to order an Uber, but the screen wasn’t working, even though it had lit up. How was she supposed to get a new phone when she hadn’t even made enough to cover rent? And how was she supposed to make enough money for rent if the agency couldn’t reach her when there was a gig available?

  Every time she thought that things couldn’t get any worse … surprise! Her life went even further down the drain.

  No cabs. And that creepy guy had almost caught up with her again. It had almost looked as if he had slowed down to give her some space, but now, here he was. Right behind her. And he was also looking up and down the street for a cab. Damn.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  She glanced at him.

  He had also reached the corner, but he had made a point of walking a bit further down the street, instead of standing next to her. He was giving her space.

  “For what?” she muttered.

  “I … I hope I didn’t frighten you,” he said, pushing his dark hair back from his face. It was long and unruly and almost covered his eyes, with streaks of grey at the temples. In contrast, his short beard was neatly trimmed, hardly more than a shadow across his lower face. “I mean, I wasn’t following you or anything. I honestly was going in the same direction.”

  She harrumphed. Looked up and down the street. “Well, it didn’t do you any good,” she said. “No cabs tonight.” She looked up. The light drizzle hitting her face felt like a mist of ice. Her hair was going to frizz up something crazy.

  “No,” he said.

  They stood there for a moment or two. In silence. Both looking the other direction. Then it appeared, as if she had conjured it with her silent pleading—a bright yellow cab, with a lit-up sign on top.

  “Taxi!” she hollered and stepped to the side of the curb.

  It didn’t slow down. How could he not see her?

  A sharp whistle pierced her ears. Turning, she saw the man holding out his hand in a half-raised gesture, like a wave. The yellow cab slowed down, made a U-turn, and pulled up to the curb right in front of him.

  Oh, it must be so great to be him. A blessed and spoiled man who had it all, and got everything he wanted, whenever he wanted it. Lizzie felt herself shrink even further. This had been a crappy day, and it didn’t seem to be an end to all the miseries the universe wanted her to suffer through before the day would be over.

  He stepped up to the cab, opened the back door, and gestured to her to get in. She hesitated. This was not a good idea. But the rain was picking up, and she was starting to shiver. It was late, and she had to get home before she caught her death.

  “Thank you,” she mumbled and stepped into the backseat.

  5

  Henry

  “Where can he drop you?”

  She glanced at him but didn’t answer at first. He gave the cab driver his address, and the cab pulled away from the curb.

  He repeated the question. She lifted one hand and wiped away a few droplets underneath one of her eyes. Her mascara made three thin lines across her smooth skin, and his fingers itched to wipe it away.

  But he couldn’t touch her.

  Mustn’t.

  “Just drop me at the nearest subway station,” she said, peering out the window as if to see where they were.

  He snorted. “Not bloody likely.” He leaned back against the seat. “Fine. I’ll let him take me home first, and then you can tell him where you want to go.”

  She looked almost frightened. He couldn’t understand why. Wasn’t that what she’d been afraid of? That he would find out where she lived. And then what? Start stalking her? Showing up outside her place, demanding lap dances, and seeing her naked breasts?

  The mere thought of those breasts caused a tightening that surprised him. And the proximity of her was affecting him, he realized. She had a scent. Something warm and sweet, like honey and freshly baked apple pie. He didn’t know why that would surprise him. Women used a ton of products, and most of them were scented. His ex-wife had always been surrounded by a cloud of different scents, competing with each other. It had given him a headache.

  Funny. It was the wives that were supposed to get headaches.

  “Anywhere is fine,” she said, glancing out the window as she dug around the breast pocket of her denim jacket, pulling out some wrinkled bills. Her tips, he realized. The money that Peter and his friends had thrown at her when she took her clothes off. She started straightening the crumpled bills, sorting them. Henry glanced at the money. It was mostly singles. Those cheapskates. Did they think that she did this sort of thing for fun?

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I’ll pay for the cab. Just let the driver know where to drop you.”

  She looked as if she was going to argue, but then she put her money away again. They rode in silence for a while longer. Then the silence was broken by a dark rumble.

  Her stomach.

  Henry couldn’t help but glance at her again. It was dark inside the cab, but enough light came in from the street outside that he could see her cheeks redden.

  “Did you mean what you said back there
?” he heard himself ask. He had no idea why. He didn’t care. It wasn’t any of his business. “About that stuff from the party platter being your dinner?”

  She wrapped her arms around her stomach as if to muffle the sound. “Yeah, so what?” she mumbled.

  “You need to eat,” he said, surprising himself. Since when did he care what other people did? Women were always dieting, even the skinny ones. That was probably the reason why they were always in such a bad mood.

  She glanced at him. “Well, this week, I need to pay my rent more,” she said through gritted teeth.

  He studied her. She was beautiful, but that couldn’t be the reason why he found her so appealing. He’d been married to a beautiful woman and knew that looks meant nothing at all at the end of the day. There was something more to this woman that he couldn’t put his finger on. He couldn’t understand why she would be taking her clothes off in exchange for a few lousy bucks. There was no sign of substance or alcohol abuse. She didn’t speak much but seemed intelligent. She was obviously hard up but didn’t complain or beg or try to hustle him, even though his suit probably cost more than her monthly rent. And he had plenty of suits like this.

  There was a movement in the darkness across the backseat, and he realized that she was massaging her wrist. He remembered how, as he’d gotten up from the armchair to leave, he’d seen Peter grab hold of her as she’d been gathering her things. He reached across the backseat and moved her hand away from her wrist. Dark bruises had already started to form on her pale skin.

  “I feel I must apologize for my friend,” he said, sincerely. “Are you badly hurt?” It looked bad.

  She shook her head. “No. It’s nothing.” But she kept rubbing her wrist, so it must be hurting her.

  Why didn’t she make a big deal out of it? He could easily imagine how a woman like her would have made the most out of Peter’s brutish behavior, trying to cash in on her injury, but instead, she pretended that nothing had happened.

  If it was some kind of reverse psychology, it worked.

  “Let me do something for you,” he said. “Let me buy you dinner. A proper meal. Not just some slices of deli meat.” He gestured toward the window. “Wherever you want. Just name a restaurant.”

  She didn’t seem excited. More like deflated, actually. “Thanks,” she said, glancing down at herself. “But I’m not dressed to go out.” She pulled her sore wrist closer. “I’ll be fine.”

  He sat quietly for a while, strangely uncertain of what he wanted to do. He was certainly not going to coddle some stranger off the street. She was a grown woman, albeit young, and she was not his responsibility.

  “Will you, though?” he heard himself say. “Can you make rent, with what you made back there?”

  She glanced at him, her face still turned away from him, toward the window. A passing neon sign turned her face red, then blue, then the cab moved on, and her skin turned its natural shade again. “Not quite,” she mumbled.

  They rode in silence for a block or two.

  Then he surprised himself once more.

  6

  Lizzie

  “I’ll make you a proposition,” he said, and there was nothing in his voice. It sounded so neutral; she had no way of interpreting what he meant by what he’d just said.

  She glanced at him again. His face was also completely blank. Handsome. But blank. The perfect poker face. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. She didn’t reply.

  “Spend the evening with me,” he said. “In a fancy hotel.” He paused. “You can order whatever you want from room service, so what you’re wearing is not an issue.” His eyes left her face and moved down a bit.

  Oh, how she hated the fact that men could never look her in the eyes.

  She fixed him with a glare that he didn’t notice because he was too busy ogling her chest. “I’m a stripper. Not a hooker.” Her voice had an edge to it that could cut glass.

  He looked up, an amused glint in his brown eyes briefly appearing before the poker face returned.

  “And I don’t pay for sex, so that works out fine for both of us.” His eyes dropped to her chest again, just for a second, before returning to meet her angry stare. “But I didn’t get to see your performance this evening.” He slipped his hand into his inside pocket and pulled out a slim leather wallet. He pulled out five $50 bills, crisp and new from the ATM. Or perhaps he’d had his butler iron them for him. “Dance for me, a private show. And then I leave. I’ve got an early flight in the morning, so I can’t stay late. You get to spend the night—alone—in a fancy hotel, and an all you can eat Room service feast.” He fanned out the bills. “Will this cover your rent?”

  She nodded mutely. It would. And if what he said was true, then this was an offer she really couldn’t refuse.

  “Just a show,” she said, turning toward him slightly. “And then you leave.” She couldn’t stop herself from staring at the money. It wasn’t a life-changing amount of money, but it would get her out of her current predicament and give her a bit of breathing room.

  To her surprise, he handed her the money. “Here you go,” he said. “Payment upfront. Is The Pierre fine with you?”

  She nodded again, unable to think of a single thing to say. And who the heck was Pierre, anyway?

  “I’m Henry, by the way,” he said.

  “Lizzie,” she said, her voice a little trembling and weak.

  “How old are you, Lizzie?” he asked, and his eyes narrowed a little, as if he was trying to tell, just by looking at her.

  The answer came automatically. “Old enough.” He frowned. “Twenty-three,” she added.

  He just looked at her for a while. Then he leaned forward and told the driver that there had been a change of plans. They were going to The Pierre instead.

  Lizzie couldn’t believe her luck. But she also couldn’t quite believe that this was really happening. If something seemed too good to be true, then it usually was.

  She leaned back against the seat and tried to relax.

  7

  Henry

  He had stayed at The Pierre many times and also booked rooms here for interviews and press junkets on a number of occasions, so he knew that there wouldn’t be a problem with him just showing up at 10 PM, without luggage, asking for a room.

  That said, he appreciated that the stripper moved away from him as soon as they came in through the large revolving doors. She browsed a stand of tourist brochures while he walked over to the reception desk and got them a room. She might have claimed to not be a hooker, but it looked as if she knew the way to play this. Well, that didn’t matter. He had no intention of having sex with her, so whatever she had been up to before this night was of no importance to him.

  He just wanted to look at her. See that naked body move before him once more, in a quiet setting where he could really appreciate it, before setting off on his arduous book tour.

  With the keycard in his hand, he walked over to the elevators. She joined him in a way that seemed completely accidental and didn’t look at him or say anything. Just stepped into the elevator with him and turned around to face the door.

  He had to reach past her to put the keycard against the reader and push the button for the right floor. She didn’t pull away. But she didn’t make a point of putting herself in his way either. No ‘accidental’ brushing against his arm with her breasts. He appreciated that. There was no need to make this tawdrier that it needed to be.

  He just needed a break. To relax. He’d been meaning to book a massage but had left it too late. This was practically the same, or even more proper, because she wouldn’t be touching him. Only dancing. Just so that he could get out of his own head for a couple of hours. His last book had really taken it out of him, and he had been working right up to the deadline, trying to work out some plot points that had bothered him.

  They hadn’t bothered his editor, or his publisher, but he’d always been a bit of a perfectionist.

  Having to set off on a book tour for his p
revious book, that he could barely even remember after he’d been submerged in the new story for several months, felt like an unnecessary interruption. Why couldn’t people just read the bloody books? Why did they feel the need to get his signature in them, or take a selfie with him?

  The elevator stopped, and he held out his hand in a gallant gesture to let her go first.

  She left the elevator, but then stopped.

  “This way,” he said, gesturing with the keycard down the hallway. The soft beige walls had white wooden details and cornices, and the ceiling lamps were elegant chandeliers placed in recesses in the ceiling. The oriental style carpet dampened the sound of their footsteps as they walked side by side until the very end of the hall. The door to their suite opened at once, and he held it open for her before he stepped inside, putting the keycard in the holder by the door that activated the lights and the air conditioning.

  The suite was one that he had used before. It had a view of the park, and a spacious living room with comfortable, luxurious furniture. The bedroom off to one side was furnished with a ridiculously large four-poster bed that had made him feel a bit stupid, the one time he’d spent the night here. But that didn’t matter now. He wasn’t spending the night, and he thought that a girl like her would probably get a kick out of it. Didn’t all girls dream of being princesses?

  He moved over to the bar and poured himself a drink. Then he turned and looked at her. She stood by the door, looking a bit lost. He held up his glass. “Do you want a drink?”

  She shook her head. Then she looked around. “The bathroom?” she asked, gesturing at the door to her right. When he nodded, she continued. “I just need a minute to get ready.” He nodded again, and she disappeared.

  He walked over to the tall windows and looked out at the park, a dark mass of shapes before him, against the not entirely dark night sky. The lights from the skyscrapers to his left were reflected in the pond, nestled among the lush trees. Next to it, the East Drive across the park gleamed in red and white from the cars that moved in a steady stream in both directions. It never got completely dark or completely quiet here in the city, and sometimes that bothered him. Not tonight, though. He felt strangely awake, despite being tired to the bone.