Protecting Her Heart Read online

  Ironically, she didn’t have any kids of her own, not for lack of wanting. Andrew insisted that they hold off, claiming that he wasn’t ready to be a father. Emma had broached the subject with him for a long time, hoping that as each year passed he would eventually agree, but he never did. She’d hoped that a family would change things for them, bring them closer together, elevate her status in his eyes and in the eyes of his family. But as time went on and she became wiser, she ultimately realized that a child wouldn’t change anything for the better. If she was being honest, she was grateful it never happened because Andrew was far too self-centered to be a father, and she didn’t think his emotional abuse would have ended with her. She stopped asking when she learned of the first affair, or what she thought was the first.

  Getting back into the workforce had not been an easy task for Emma. She and Andrew married right after she earned her bachelor degree and in the beginning, she liked playing housewife. She thought it was sweet that her new husband wanted to provide for her, take care of her, and she wanted to do whatever made him happy. Imagine what a rude awakening it was to discover that nothing ever made Andrew happy, no matter how hard she tried. The more disenchanted he seemed, the harder she worked to please him, to be the woman she thought he needed. It made her queasy thinking about that now, but that was her life. The few times she mentioned going back to get her teaching degree he shut her down and made her feel guilty, and she just didn’t want to fight. He would turn her words around and make false accusations to the point that she would question her motives, and her sanity. The only task he allowed her to undertake was volunteer work for his family’s various charities, and only then because she was under his mother’s watchful eye.

  Putting together a resume had been a painful process. She had no work experience except scooping ice cream at Patsy’s Parlor, a job she held all through high school, and waitressing at a greasy diner through college. She hadn’t come from a wealthy family, so she needed to earn money to pay her way through school. All that changed with Andrew, and if she was being honest, she was relieved she didn’t have to worry about finances anymore. He offered to pay off her student debt as a wedding gift to her. Little did she know that was one of the things he used against her whenever she brought up the subject of going back to school or any other self-improvement project she tried to venture on. It was the gift that kept on giving, the gift with many strings attached.

  She had fluffed up her resume with all her volunteer experience, but refused to use her mother-in-law as a reference. She didn’t think dear old Frances would speak kindly of her anyway. She had applied for many jobs after their separation, some of which she even felt qualified for, but very few people returned her call. Out of the thirty or forty resumes she delivered she had only been invited to three interviews and was thrilled when one of them offered her a job. It wasn’t great money, only 30 hours a week, but with her modest alimony she could pay her bills and still have enough left over for her savings account.

  She was working as an assistant to Jennifer Littlewood, the Executive Director of the Seattle Center Foundation. The job was challenging and fit beautifully into her skill set. They needed someone organized, focused, and good with people and Emma was all of those things, plus she knew a lot about planning and fundraising and still had some decent connections. In spite of her in-laws’ best efforts to discredit her, there were still a lot of folks that liked and respected her.

  She hit it off with Jennifer right away. She was pleased to find out that they had met once before and thankfully, Emma had made a good impression. Although they talked briefly about her personal life (and pending divorce), Jennifer was kind enough not to pry, in spite of the fact that her ex came from a rather influential family and gossip was circulating. Jennifer told her that she didn’t give a ‘rat’s ass’ (that’s exactly how she put it!) about the silly gossip and just needed someone hardworking and loyal to help make her look good. Emma assured her that she was up for the challenge. Jennifer hired her on the spot and Emma had now been there for almost five months. She loved her work and it didn’t take long for her confidence to emerge again. Jennifer told her almost every day how much she appreciated her and the feeling was mutual. It felt good to be useful, and to be earning her own way.

  Arriving home from work, Emma sashayed past the doorman. He met her eyes and smiled at her flirtatiously, something he either just started doing or that Emma had just started noticing. A week had passed since her visit to ‘Loving Hands’ and she was still feeling the quiet, sensual confidence that Lorenzo had gifted her with that night, a self-assurance that made her hold her head up just a little higher. After years of being trained to keep her head down and avert her eyes, she had become somewhat oblivious and naive toward men’s mating signals. She was flattered with the attention, in spite of the fact that she had no idea how to respond.

  She offered him a little wave and kept walking, until he called her back.

  “Where are you going in such a hurry?” he teased, causing Emma to turn back around. He was holding up a package for her, a small gift bag from Victoria’s Secret. She blushed and cleared her throat, unsure how to respond. He looked at her with a knowing grin and handed her the bag.

  She smirked, deciding not to say anything, and teased the bag from his fingers. It wouldn’t do him any harm to wonder, she thought, as she turned and walked away. She sensed he was likely staring at her ass and she deliberately swung her hips, a little more playfully than usual, experimenting with her new found moxie. Of course the gift had to be from Luke, a message or clue to start off her next adventure.

  Her mind drifted to the last time they were together, right after her massage. She had followed him down the street for a drink, a quiet little bar that mostly catered to neighborhood ‘regulars’ and the occasional businessman visiting Seattle who was perhaps hoping to score a little something something while away from home. It was also a place where the women offering something something came at a price. The type of bar one could imagine Billy Joel singing about in Piano Man. It didn’t matter to Emma, she enjoyed people watching and the place seemed safe enough, especially with Luke by her side.

  Luke had set their drinks down and took a seat in the booth beside her. He appeared relaxed and low-key, which instantly set her at ease. She was accustomed to apologizing for her behavior but Luke never made her feel like she should be ashamed, for anything. She was still buzzing from the experience, and while she was itching to talk about it, she wasn’t sure how much to share with him. He made it clear, pretty quickly, that he wanted to know everything.

  “So, did the Italian make you cum with his magic fingers?” he grinned, just as Emma was taking a sip of her gin and tonic. She choked a little on the deliciously bitter liquid, a blush rising up her chest. He was holding nothing back.

  “Well...um...you could say that,” Emma smiled, lifting her drink in a toast. Luke laughed and clinked his beer into her glass, taking a deep swallow, his eyes reading hers.

  “I don’t think I have ever seen you look so...indulged...as you did when you walked back into the waiting room. You were glowing,” he observed, proud as a peacock.

  “I don’t think I have ever been so indulged. Isn’t that pathetic?” she asked, sitting back into the plush bench.

  “A little bit,” he laughed, setting his beer down.

  “Ok, ok,” she pouted playfully, “you didn’t have to answer that so quickly.”

  “Sorry, Mimi, I’m just teasing. I’m happy for you, and proud. That took a lot of courage, so good for you,” he said sincerely.

  “It was a little nerve-racking. Right up until I arrived I was feeling anxious but once the massage started it was fine. Lorenzo was very considerate and...um...soothing. I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect,” she admitted, looking around the room. There was a handsome man sitting at the bar, looking over at her, a suggestive smile playing on his face. She dropped her eyes, suddenly feeling exposed, like he somehow knew she was sti
ll commando under her dress. Luke saw the man too and snorted derisively, winking at her.

  “Do you see that man?” he asked, pointing discreetly to the bar.

  “Yes,” Emma said cautiously, wondering why he asked. She looked at him again, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. He was still smiling at her, but not overtly, just in a curious sort of way.

  “If you wanted to, you could go home with him. He’s been eye-fucking you since we sat down,” he teased, his own eyes challenging her. Emma was intrigued, and in one of her naughty fantasies she might have done just that, but she wasn’t ready for a one night stand with a strange man. Call her a prude, or call her cautious, but she couldn’t get past the thought of being kidnapped, raped and left for dead on some dusty country backroad. Luke must have read her mind.

  “I’m just kidding Mimi, you look terrified!” he laughed, gently tapping her hand.

  “I’m not terrified,” she said through her bruised pride. “He’s pretty cute. Do you suppose he’s single?”

  “Definitely not,” Luke surmised flippantly. “He has that soulless, married man slouch, and a look on his face that says ‘I lost my balls at the altar, take pity on me’.”

  “Oh my god, Luke!” Emma chided, raising her brows.

  “If you look really carefully, you can see the ball and chain around his ankle,” he added, taking another swig from his beer.

  “You really hate the constitution of marriage don’t you?” Emma questioned lightly, already suspecting the answer. Luke was a perpetual bachelor, and proud of it.

  He looked at her flatly, a wry smile on his face. “Well, it didn’t serve you very well, did it?”

  “That was different, Andrew was a ferret. There are lots of people who have beautiful marriages. Look at my parents, they are still in love after 35 years!”

  “True, but they’re an exception to the rule, sixty percent of marriages fail so why bother?” he insisted. “I can’t see ever getting married.”

  Emma shook her head in disagreement. Even after her own failed marriage and the crap she went through, she still believed in true love. She held out hope that one day she would find her Prince.

  “You don’t know that Luke. One day you just might meet someone that will change your mind. You’ll find the yin to your yang, a woman that completes you and you’ll want to spend your life with her,” Emma insisted.

  Luke shook his head, “Thanks, Jerry McGuire, but I’m not husband material.”

  “I don’t know, I always thought you’d be a great husband for someone one day. You’re a good man,” Emma offered sincerely, ignoring the jab. She picked up her drink, wiping the condensation off the glass before taking another sip. Luke looked at her thoughtfully and shrugged, as though he didn’t believe it but he appreciated her thinking it just the same.

  They were quiet for a few minutes, listening to a love song trilled out by a lackluster pop tart, one of many cookie cutter singers that seemed to be hijacking the airwaves of late. Luke finally broke the silence.

  “I have been thinking about the provocative places I can take you to...and I have some ideas,” he paused, looking up at her. She smiled nervously and nodded at him to continue. “I just want to make sure you are still good with all of this? After tonight?”

  “I am,” she insisted, afraid that he was hedging. She didn’t want him backing out, she needed him. “The massage was perfect, it was challenging but it felt good to push myself. Why are you asking?”

  “I just want to make sure. You know that no matter what, you can always back out, at any time, even if you’re in the thick of things, right? You just have to say the word, no questions asked. I won’t think any less of you,” he assured, sitting forward in his chair, as though wanting to convey just how serious he was.

  “I know that, Luke, and I will. Thank you, though, really,” she said sincerely, placing her hand over his. “But I also may need you to push me a little sometimes. I’m counting on you, my friend.”

  “Good, we’re on the same page,” he agreed, winking at her. He polished off his beer and Emma’s thoughts shifted back to the man at the bar. She glanced over at him again. He was talking to a young blonde who was standing beside him, her hand placed provocatively on his shoulder. The bartender set a drink in front of her and she seductively sat down on the stool beside him. Married or not, the man seemed happy for the company.

  Chapter 7

  Emma took her package up to her apartment and tore it open as soon as the door closed behind her. It was a pair of sexy pink panties and a note in Luke’s handwriting.

  Lose the granny panties, we’re going out tonight. You’re going to put those pole dancing classes to good use! I’m picking you up at 8:00. Ready for your journey down the rabbit hole, Alice?

  Emma had taken pole/chair dancing classes a few years earlier because a friend had recommended it to her, swearing it was the latest and greatest exercise craze. She had enjoyed the classes very much and was quite good at it. The lessons were more than just great exercise. She had hoped to share what she learned in the bedroom for Andrew, as a way to spice up their sex life. She had visions of her newfound skills turning her husband on, making him desire her, but to her dismay, it had the opposite effect. When Andrew found out that she was taking the classes he forbade her to continue. He asked her why she thought acting like a whore was sexy and shamed her about it for weeks, even accusing her of wanting to be with other men. It was embarrassing.

  She had told Luke about it and he thought it was cool that she wanted to do something sexy for her husband and that Andrew was a damn fool. He made her laugh when he told her she didn’t have to buy a pole, she could just pull the one out of Andy’s ass. Luke always had a way of making Andrew less scary for her. God, she adored him for that.

  But what did he mean when he said ‘put those pole dancing classes to use’? Where did the rabbit hole lead? Things were getting more and more interesting.

  Chapter 8

  “What is this place?” Emma asked as Luke pulled his Audi into a packed parking lot near the airport. He glanced over at her grinning but didn’t answer. “Luke?”

  The building itself was unobtrusive, white-washed with no windows from what she could see. It looked like an abandoned old factory or a storage facility until they pulled around to the front. There, Emma noticed a large lit up sign that boasted ‘The Mad Hatter’ with a scrolling LED digital ticker underneath that flashed ‘Amateur Night’.

  “Oh my god, a strip joint?” Emma laughed nervously, trying to catch Luke’s eye. He pretended not to notice, instead kept his own eyes on the road, searching for a free parking space. He found one at the very end of the lot and pulled in before turning to meet her gaze.

  “Ready?” he asked, his grin challenging her.

  “For what?” she asked with a suspicious grin, wrapping her arms around her chest.

  “Come on,” he coaxed, opening the car door and stepping out into the damp night air.

  Emma sat for a second or two, her heart beating in her chest. In a million years she never imagined herself visiting an exotic nightclub, let alone being the entertainment. Had he lost his mind?

  Luke tapped on the window and knelt down, his grin encouraging her to follow. Emma inhaled deeply and tried to calm herself. She was nervous, but excited too. She smiled up at him, charmed by his boyish enthusiasm. He opened the door and wordlessly held his hand out to her.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing...” she squeaked, surprised by the twang in her voice. Luke chuckled and helped her out of the car.

  “Not in the slightest...”

  They entered the club, Emma shrinking behind Luke, peeking out from behind his broad shoulders. He paid the cover charge (she was free) and then took her hand and led her inside.

  “Stand up straight, you have nothing to worry about. Be fierce, you’re gorgeous,” he commanded, placing a hand on the small of her back. The gesture was helpful but she still felt out of place, like china in
a bullpen. Nevertheless, she pulled her shoulders back and pretended to be brave.

  They sat down at a small table, close enough to get a decent view of the stage, but far enough to be inconspicuous. Emma leaned on the table, ignoring the sticky residue, and stared at Luke. He seemed to be observing the room, getting his own bearings straight. Emma followed his gaze around the club, taking in the surroundings, her senses assaulted by neon pink, raunchy music, and the smell of stale beer. It was just like she had imagined it would be, sexy, seedy and gaudy, but in the best way possible. There seemed to be just as many women there as men, and everyone looked to be having a great time, like-minded people having some sexy fun, hoping to season their normally bland lives.

  A delightful young server came by their table and crouched down beside Luke. She was wearing a black bikini top with two large red hearts on each cup and a pair of cheeky denim shorts. Her blonde hair was adorned with braids, pulled back on either side of her pretty face.

  “Hi folks, I’m Leni, can I bring you something from the bar?”

  “Absolutely, I will have a Bud Light and this lovely lady will have a gin and tonic with a twist of lime,” Luke ordered with a sexy lilt. He was in his element.

  Leni glanced at Emma and smiled sweetly, “Are you entering the contest tonight?” she asked.

  Emma chuckled, holding her hand up in front of her. “Oh, no, I don’t think so...” she protested at the exact same time that Luke offered an unequivocal yes. Emma looked at him wide-eyed, nerves fluttering in her belly, a protest on the tip of her tongue.

  Leni giggled and shook her head as if wondering who was going to win the battle.

  “Yes, she’s dancing, where do we sign up?” Luke insisted, his grin teasing Emma.

  “I’ll send the M.C. over, he has the sign-up sheet. Good luck! I’ll bring your drinks back in a minute.”