Fixation (Magnetic Desires Book 3) (3 page)

I wondered if he still thought of me, still looked for me. How hard it must have been on him to come back that day and find me gone. He would have searched. I shut my eyes and rubbed my temples. Yes, he would have searched every damn strip club in Lanston before he realized it was never going to be that easy to get me back.

I'd been a sick, twisted game to Brady, only I hadn't known it until it was too late. The other girls he'd let go when they paid out their debts, but that had never been what he wanted from me. I swayed, my hands gripping tightly to the edge of the counter, and Mike slipped an arm around my shoulder. "You okay, Lola? Are you feeling alright?"

Startled, I opened my eyes to see his worried gaze on me. "Yeah."
Brady's gone.
"I'm okay now."

For six long years I'd wished for Leo. To feel his arms around me and tell him that I'd never forgotten him. Once we were settled, I would find him and tell him he had a daughter.

Six months later

Leo

My footsteps echoed on the polished concrete floors as I traversed the gallery floor. I’d built this place with my own blood and sweat. Large skylights filtered natural light into the space. It bounced off the gray-white walls, giving the area a modern elegance, which complemented the monochromatic and intense colors of the works hanging on each wall. Stalking past them, I headed for the main display wall.

I shoved my fists in my pockets and stared at the painting José had given me the last time I’d been in San Juan. It had represented so much back then, and though the colors were still as fresh as they had been all those years ago, and the painting in its own right was José’s masterpiece, it held nothing but memories I no longer wanted to indulge in.

Even before the painting had arrived at the gallery, she’d left me. The day the collection came in, I’d unpacked each box, knowing at some point I was going to open the one with her painting inside. She’d adored San Juan, and for those two weeks on the cruise, and the week we'd spent together afterwards we'd existed in a bubble of our own making. I’d thought she’d loved me. I’d been an idiot to think she wanted more from me than the money she took when she vanished.

Still, it had taken me far too long to realize she wasn’t going to change her mind. I’d put José’s painting on the main wall, hoping that somehow she would change her mind and come back to me. For those first six months, I would have forgiven her for taking off. How many times had I stood in front of this painting, turning each time the door opened, and praying to catch a glimpse of her?

Almost six years I’d let this painting take up prime real estate, because after those first few months I stopped turning at the sound of footsteps, and started clenching my jaw instead. I’d left it there as a reminder that I would not be made a fool again.

I glanced over to where my assistant sat at her desk flipping through art magazines in between clients. "The damn painting has to go, Alex."

Alex trotted over on those pointy studded shoes of hers and smoothed her palms over her leather skirt. "You want to get rid of the streetscape?"

I turned to stare at it. "It’s about time, don’t you think?"

She patted my arm. "If that’s what you want, Leo."

Drawing a deep breath, I mulled it over. "Yeah, let's find a buyer."

Her shoes clipped on the gallery floor as she returned to her desk, and I made my way to the stairs that led up to my second floor office. The wall-sized photograph at the base of the stairs mocked me as I bolted past it, despite my squinting in an effort to avoid it. She and I locked in an embrace that fooled people into believing we were in love. At least when clients brought up how much we must have adored each other, it helped ease the pain. I wasn’t the only one she deceived.

"One thing at a time," I muttered as I ran up the stairs. Eventually, I would be ready to deal with it, to get rid of it, but not yet. Stalking into my office, I passed the door to the darkroom and went to the closet where I kept my equipment. My brother had gotten engaged a couple of weeks ago and he’d asked me to take photos at their engagement party. Pulling out my camera and the lenses I planned to use for shooting this weekend, I checked the equipment.

I didn’t relish it. Being surrounded by people celebrating love wasn’t my thing, but I couldn’t turn him down. Since he’d come back home and settled down with Birdie in Reverence, he’d let go of the past that had almost destroyed him. That was what motivated me to sell the painting downstairs.

Too many years I’d been angry over how she left me. So angry I refused to think or speak Lola’s name. I thumped my camera bag down on the desk.
Shit.
Unzipping the bag, I pulled out the Canon and checked for damage. My hands trembled with the surge of adrenaline that came with the bristling anger. It had been almost six years and the thought of strangling her still forced itself on me. But, it was time to let go of her and the anger that made even my family tread carefully around me. Packing the camera back into its bag, I snagged the envelope that had come from my lawyer that morning and slid it in the side pocket. I'd put off getting a divorce for so long because I'd been terrified of forgetting what a mistake getting married had been. It had been a safeguard against any real relationship I might have considered, but if I was going to put her behind me, it was time to take the step. Hoisting the strap over my shoulder, I descended to the gallery floor.

"I’ll see you on Monday," I called out to Alex, who held the phone between her shoulder and ear while she pulled one of the many pens from the bun on her head and waved it in the air like a baton. I didn't understand it, but she claimed it ensured she always had one at the ready.

"Have a good weekend, Leo. Do you want me to call you when I find a buyer?"

I paused on the threshold. "Yeah, I want to handle this sale myself."

The glass door closed behind me, and I merged with the foot traffic, loosening my tie as I made my way down the block to the cafe. The crowd of people around me dispersed when I reached the corner. Lights changed, and cars turned down the street but in that split second where all traffic had stopped, the girl I never thought I’d see again filled my vision. She stood on the other side of the road, the sun hitting her blonde hair, giving it a copper shine as she played with the braid that hung over her shoulder. Her gaze caught mine, and those blue eyes that changed with her mood peered right into me. I held her locked into my stare as her lips parted and she fluttered a hand to her throat. My heart froze in my chest, and I forgot to breathe.

Before I could stop myself, I had one foot on the blacktop and some kid was squeezing my shoulder, hauling me back onto the curb. "Man, have you got a death wish?"

I turned to face the kid, holding his skateboard under his arm and a beanie planted firmly over his dreads, as a car took the corner sharply and drove straight over the path I'd been taking.

"Thanks. I mustn’t have been paying attention," I mumbled. All I wanted to do was shift my gaze back to her.

The kid shrugged and dropped his skateboard before riding across the intersection with the light change, and I turned my attention back to the other side of the street.

But she wasn’t there. Had I imagined her? I scrubbed a hand over my eyes and looked again. It had been a long week and I’d been thinking about her and that damn painting, that was all. She wouldn’t show up here, now, not after all this time.

Lola had run out on me within a week of marrying me. The first day after the two-week cruise we'd met on, we'd spent at the courthouse hand in hand, waiting to get married. She'd worn a simple gray cocktail dress and I'd donned one of my suits. One week later she'd taken my money, and left her rings with a note that told me she'd never planned on staying. I hadn't believed it. I'd torn out of the hotel, and searched the streets for her. Then I'd taken a cab to the seedier part of town, my heart galloping while the driver took his sweet-assed time. I went into more strip joints in that one trip than I'd been to in my life, but she'd vanished.

The following two weeks had been filled with the same routine. Frantic to find her, and praying her fears about Brady had been unfounded, I'd barely eaten and hardly slept. By the time I could no longer ignore the fact I wasn't going to find her, I'd covered every square inch of the city. Then I'd called in a private investigator and gone home. It wasn't until the private investigator gave me his verdict that I'd realized everything she'd said in the note was true.

I crossed the road when the lights changed, weighed down by the weight of memories I wanted to forget. Would she ever leave me alone? She hadn’t changed much, but then a ghost wouldn’t, and that was exactly what she was. Pushing open the door to Nat’s Sweet Treats I tried to shove the image of the girl out of my head. Behind the register, Natalie glanced up as I stalked over to her. “Hey, Nat.”

"Hey, Leo, what are you after?" She leaned over the counter, showing a little bit of that cleavage I enjoyed so much, and I focused on her, and not the girl I couldn’t have.

"Coffee. And you in that pink thing you wore the other night." I winked.

She nodded at the kid behind the coffee machine. "Make it strong. He’s got a long night ahead of him."

"You’re going to wear the pink, right?" Flashing a grin at her, I leaned over the counter as she ducked down behind it.

When she came back up, she placed a paper bag on the counter and took my coffee from the kid. "Sure, Leo, whatever you want."

Scooping them up, I headed back out onto the pavement. A glance in all directions showed no sign of the woman who had ruined me. She’d been nothing more than a figment of my imagination. It was almost a relief to know my mind had played a trick on me. If she suddenly showed up here, I’d… I wanted to believe I’d be the bigger man, but I’d fantasized too many times about taking everything she took from me out on her.  Packing my gear onto the bike, I tore away from the curb into the rush hour traffic. The sooner I sold that painting and put her fully out of my life the way she had me, the better.

Lola

I hadn’t meant to run into him like that. Thank God, the lights had changed or we would have smacked into each other in the midst of the crowded pavement, and I wasn’t ready for that. The way he stared at me with those pale blue eyes of his had my heart palpitating in my chest. I clutched at my throat as he took a step toward me, his gaze locked with mine.

Our first meeting in six years couldn’t go like this. I trembled under his intense stare as my heart picked up pace. And then some kid yanked his arm and pulled him back up on the curb as a car cut too close to where he’d been. His gaze dropped to the kid, letting the connection between us break and freeing me from his magnetism. Words were exchanged on the other side of the street, and I took the chance to bolt. Sprinting down a side street, I ducked into the alley that ran parallel to the cafe I’d left, and slumped against the brick wall.

He’d looked so damn good in that navy suit, the way he had on the day I first met him, when he'd gotten down on one knee and asked me to marry him. We’d had the strangest start but even after all these years, he still stole the air around me. Of course, he’d looked even better in jeans and a wife beater, and my mouth watered at a particular memory. Edging along the wall, I peeked out at the street to see if he’d followed me. Mere yards from my hiding spot, he turned in a circle, probably looking for me. Then he moved out of sight, and I could breathe again. Taking a deep, calming breath, I slipped out of the alley and crossed the street, sticking close to the buildings in case he was still looking for me.

I wanted to see him, my heart ached to stand in front of him, to tell him that even though we’d been parted under such terrible circumstances, I’d never forgotten him. Brady had ripped our happily ever after from us, and I desperately wanted to offer him that now. But not in the middle of the street, not when I wasn’t sure he’d want me. Throwing a glance over my shoulder in the direction he’d been, I couldn’t help feel exposed, but he was no longer there. My pace slowed when I reached the gallery and pushed open the glass door.

This was his den I was entering. The lair of the lion, and I didn’t know if he would be coming back. I closed my eyes briefly and concentrated on breathing before I stepped inside. The painting that had enchanted me when we’d spent the day in San Juan hung in front of the window, and I couldn’t help but hope he’d added it to his gallery for me. But it wasn’t the painting I needed to see. It was the photograph. The one of us kissing in Ocho Rios. If he still had it, if he’d kept it all these years, then I’d know there was a chance for us. I had to know if he still thought of me the way I did him.

Behind a desk at the back of the large space, a woman waved at me as she clutched her phone between shoulder and ear. My footsteps echoed in the almost empty space as I wandered from piece to piece. Leo's photographs were beautiful, and I recognized a few paintings of José’s. The artist's works were amazing, and I wished I hadn’t been so worried about Brady when we’d met him in San Juan. It would have been nice to learn more about his process, his passion.

Other pieces dotted the walls between the works I knew, but I chose to ignore them. Unable to stop the tremor that came with the worry of him catching me, I darted glances at the door every few seconds, but no one came in to the gallery. Pushing on, I spotted what I was looking for on the back wall. My feet almost glided across the floor, the emotion in the photograph pulling me in. His lips clung to mine, our gazes locked, as he dipped me a little for the shot. It hadn’t been a kiss, not compared to the others we’d shared, but it was the moment I’d realized I'd fallen for him and that I wasn’t going to run from him. My hand came up involuntarily, and I had to check my actions before I stroked the glass covering his face, wanting to remember, wanting to imagine it was his warm skin beneath my fingers.  If he still had this, then there had to be a chance for us.

I studied the photograph, aware that every moment I lingered made it more likely he would find out I was here before I was ready.  Still, I couldn’t rip myself away, not until I’d drunk in every last detail and reveled in the vivid clarity of one of the few precious memories I had. Soon, I would stand in front of the flesh and blood version of him, and the six years that divided us would be nothing.

Making my way back to the door, I couldn’t help but stop in front of the streetscape again. I’d fallen in love with San Juan, with the painting, and especially with the colorful houses. My favorite, the yellow, stood proudly as the first in the streetscape. I’d wanted so badly to live there. This piece held raw emotion for me, both happiness and hope. It spoke of the future I wanted when I didn’t believe I could have one.  In the corner of the frame was a price tag, and I stretched up on tiptoe to make out the price. Turning to the girl behind the desk, I asked, "You’re selling this?"

"Yes, it's a beautiful piece isn’t it?" The young woman tottered around the desk and made her way over to me.

"It really is." Cocking my head to the side, I took it in from another angle.

"Are you interested in purchasing it?" She frowned, her eyes widening as she chewed her lip.

"Maybe."

"Behind the painting’s joyous atmosphere there is a sad tale of unrequited love."

I darted a glance at her from under raised eyebrows. "How do you figure that?"

How much did she know of the story? Leo had been proud and sometimes arrogant, and I hadn’t expected he would have told our story to many.

She folded her hands in front of her. "To be honest, we’ve had the painting now for six years. It's a great piece and we’ve had offers but Mr. Barclay, the gallery owner, hasn’t been willing to part with it until now. I can only assume it holds memories for him."

"I want to buy it."

"Great, let me set up a meeting with the owner. He wants to handle this sale himself," she said, leading the way to her desk. Handing me his card, she pulled a pen from the bun on her head while flipping through the diary on the ipad. "There's a spot open on Tuesday."

I tapped the card against my fingernails. As much as I wanted the painting, I wasn’t ready to confront Leo yet. There were still things I needed to do before I showed myself. "Unfortunately, I can’t do Tuesday. Let me check my schedule and get back to you."

"Sure. But can I suggest you don’t wait too long? We’ve had queries about this painting already."

"Thanks, I’ll let you know." I slid the card into my purse. "I’ll give you a call in the next few days."

She stared at me. "I'm sorry if this is rude, but do I know you?"

I held my breath. Of course she'd likely seen the photograph so many times, but seeing the subject was putting her off recognizing me outright. "No, I'm new in town."

"Oh." My answer seemed to satisfy her and she went back to the ipad. Exhaling, I turned and strode back out to the street.

At the end of the block, Leo meandered in my direction, his attention on his phone while he held a brown paper bag and a coffee cup, his camera bag slung over his shoulder. I bit down on the urge to throw myself at him and instead dropped into the shallow entry between the buildings. He stopped at a motorcycle, glancing around, and I froze until he stowed his bag and climbed onto the bike. Only when he'd torn off down the street did I venture out of my hiding spot and head back the way I had come.