French Fling to Forever
Author
Karin Baine
Reads
19,7K
Chapters
12
Chapter One
LOLA TOOK A sip of sweet tea and did her best to blank out the anxieties vying for space in her head. Am I up to the job? Can I cope with making life-or-death decisions? Where are the toilets?
Over the rim of her cup she watched a sea of blue scrubs fill up the hospital canteen. The laughter and general chatter of her new colleagues did little to comfort her. They were so at ease, confident in their surroundings. She was sure she was the only first-year doctor here with knots in her stomach. Despite her promise to herself that her placement here in the Belfast Community Hospital would be another step towards independence, she was tempted to run.
Until recently she’d always had her brothers close by, to reassure her and take her by the hand when she needed it. It had been her idea to leave home once she’d graduated from medical school, although she wasn’t sure if moving across the city to flat-share with her best friend counted as a particularly bold move.
Right now she needed one of those warm bear hugs only big brothers could give. This sense of isolation wasn’t alien to her, but it was still as daunting as it had been at fifteen, when her whole world had fallen apart. Even now, almost ten years later, Lola couldn’t shake off the paranoia that everyone was watching her and judging her and that at some point she’d be made to pay for being different.
She jumped as the first dramatic chords of her mobile phone’s ringtone blared from her pocket and jolted her back from her nightmarish thoughts. It wouldn’t do for her to get lost in those dark thoughts of pain and humiliation when she was due for her induction into the emergency department in fifteen minutes.
She was sure every pair of eyes in the room swivelled towards her as her clammy hands fumbled to retrieve the phone.
‘Hello, sis.’
Instead of turning it off, she’d managed to accept a call from the eldest of her three big brothers. That protective older sibling intuition was uncanny.
‘Er...hi, Jake.’
She would have given a sigh of relief if it hadn’t have been for the ‘No Mobile Phones’ signs screaming at her from the walls. If she didn’t take the call now the rest of the family would surely hound her all day, since it was they who’d insisted she carry this blasted thing. Tea abandoned, she hurried out into the corridor to avoid further disapproving stares.
‘How’s it going?’ Jake unknowingly provided the virtual arm around her shoulders that told her she wasn’t on her own.
‘I haven’t started yet. I’ll phone you when I get home.’ Tears pricked Lola’s eyes that her siblings knew her well enough to pre-empt her anxiety in an unfamiliar environment. Despite their sometimes overzealous interest in her personal life, she didn’t know what she would do without them.
‘I’m in the car park. I’ve got something for you.’
Jake sounded so pleased with himself Lola didn’t have the heart to snub him. Besides, an actual hug would surely set her up for the rest of the day.
‘In that case I’ll see you in a couple of minutes.’
This time she did hang up, and then raced through the gleaming white corridors to meet him, the flat rubber soles of her shoes squeaking on the polished hospital floors.
Jake stood waiting for her in the ambulance bay, his striking features attracting the attention of every passing female. All three of her brothers resembled their father with their swarthy appearance, whilst she was the image of her blonde-haired, green-eyed mother. Sometimes she believed that was the reason her father had distanced himself from her. She was a painful reminder of the woman who’d walked out on him and left him to raise four children alone.
‘I came to wish you good luck.’
Jake pulled her into his arms, only releasing her when she was sure she could hear ribs cracking.
He thrust a crumpled parcel into her hands. ‘And I got you this.’
‘Thank you.’
She ripped off the tatty wrapping to reveal a shiny new stethoscope. The thoughtfulness couldn’t fail to make her smile. Although she didn’t receive much support from either of her parents, with her mother AWOL and her father more concerned about himself, her brothers more than made up for it.
‘We made sure we got you a pink one—just in case.’ Jake grinned at the family joke.
In order to keep her brothers from pinching her stuff when they were growing up, Lola had learned at an early age to mark her belongings in boy-proof colours.
‘Thank you. It’s lovely, Jake. But I really have to run. I don’t want to stuff things up on the first day.’ She gave him a peck on the cheek and slung the gift around her neck.
‘No problem. You’ve got this.’
Another lung-squeezing embrace emphasised his complete support, but Lola was forced to wriggle away as time marched on. She said her goodbyes and waved him off, waiting until he was out of sight before she started running again.
Out of breath, she slid to a halt behind the group already assembled in A&E.
‘How nice of you to join us.’
The cutting French accent of her new superior called to her above the heads of her colleagues. She’d heard tales of all the newbies falling for the Gallic registrar and she could see why. Henri Benoit was the stereotypical tall, dark and handsome dreamboat. It was as well Lola had sworn off men prettier than her, or she’d be devastated on a personal level as well as a professional one at starting off on the wrong foot with him.
‘Sorry. My brother wanted to wish me good luck.’
Even to herself she sounded like a five-year-old on her first day at big school. Lola whipped the stethoscope from around her neck and wrung it between her hands. The shine of her gift had been dulled under the scorn of her superior.
‘Well, Dr—’ he scanned her staff pass ‘—Dr Roberts. In future could you leave your personal life outside the hospital doors?’
‘It won’t happen again.’ Marking a target on her forehead was the last thing a self-confessed wallflower wanted.
‘Bien. Now that we’re all here I will show you where everything is before we let you loose into the big wide world.’
The use of Benoit’s mother tongue didn’t make him any less intimidating to Lola, but she could almost see the cartoon love hearts in the eyes of the other new female recruit standing next to her. Even the distinctly masculine members of the group were hanging on to his every word.
In different circumstances Lola too might have sighed at the sexy sound of a real live Frenchman instead of the usual Belfast brogue, but as far as she was concerned a scolding couldn’t be considered romantic in any language.
Thankfully the heat was off Lola as the registrar took the lead on a whistlestop tour of the department, with most of his eager new staff members nipping at his heels. All except one thoroughly chastened recruit, who hung back and did her best to fade into obscurity.
‘This is the resus room and monitoring station. These are the rooms for the walk-in patients...’
Lola did her best to absorb all the information he shot at them. He didn’t seem the type to repeat himself, and she wouldn’t draw any further attention to herself by asking questions. The cursed gift she had for bringing out the worst in attractive men always resulted in the highlighting of her own inadequacies.
One of these days she would coast through life like everyone else apparently did, without worrying about how she looked to those around her. But for now those cruel voices still whispered in her ear, sneering at her appearance, telling her she wasn’t good enough to be here.
Lost in her own thoughts, she drifted into the hub of A&E behind her colleagues. As they attended the bedside of an elderly man Lola suddenly became all too aware that everyone was watching her with expectation. This time she definitely wasn’t imagining it. Henri Benoit folded his arms across his chest and raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for something from her.
Breath caught in Lola’s throat and she stared back blankly, wondering what it was she’d done wrong this time.
‘Excusez moi for interrupting your daydream, Doctor. This patient needs bloods to be taken and I was asking if you would kindly oblige.’
This second dressing down from him was well deserved. She’d let her mind drift from the present into the all-consuming memories of the past.
There was no way she’d ever make a success of her medical career if she couldn’t get a handle on her personal issues. Something told her Dr Benoit wouldn’t wait around for her to get with the programme, and she owed it to the patients to focus on their problems instead of her own.
With sweaty palms and jelly legs, Lola stepped out of her corner. ‘Sir, I’m just going to take some blood.’
Following procedure, she kept the patient informed of her intentions as she approached the bed, trying to keep the tremor in her voice at bay. There was no place for uncertainty in the frantic pace of Accident and Emergency, and she would need an air of authority if she hoped to gain any respect around here. Any wavering in her confidence would only serve to alarm those under her care.
Unfortunately, nerves appeared to have completely got the better of her.
‘Sorry, I can’t seem to find a suitable vein...’ A warm flush infused her whole body as she tapped the patient’s arm and attempted to insert the needle a second and a third time.
‘One of the key things to remember in these early days is to ask for help when it’s needed and not let a patient suffer for the sake of your ego. I’ll take over from here.’
Every one of Lola’s fears were realised as the registrar used her as an example to the rest of the group of how not to be a doctor. The nodding dogs were probably grateful they weren’t the ones under the microscope.
Henri Benoit’s hand brushed hers when he took the needle from her and the rolling in Lola’s stomach reached a crescendo. She backed away for some breathing space, praying she wouldn’t embarrass herself any more than she already had by throwing up on his shiny black shoes.
‘All done.’
With an ease that Lola envied he finished the job and bagged up the vials for the lab. Once he’d settled the patient again he returned his attention to the group. Although she got the distinct impression he was mainly addressing her.
‘The best way to learn is on the job. So get acquainted with the Duty Nurse and assign the patients between you. I’ll be around if you need me.’
Lola’s shoulders sagged with relief when he left her and her fellow rookies to go it alone.
Naturally, as soon as Dr Suave was out of the picture, she functioned as well as any other member of staff. All further procedures undertaken after that debacle in the morning went as smoothly as they had done in her training. And in any areas where she did need some assistance she turned to the nurses for guidance. They were more than helpful, given that she showed respect for their position and experience—which she suspected some new doctors failed to recognise as an asset.
However, she couldn’t seem to shake off her disappointment in herself, replaying that monumental cock-up in front of her boss over and over again. At periods during the day she found herself frowning and wincing, which probably looked strange to people not privy to the abject humiliation going on her head.
The end of the day couldn’t come quickly enough, and when her shift was over Lola changed into civilian clothes and headed straight for the exit. Her face turned up to the heavens, she let the rain fall and cleanse her weary skin, as though it would somehow wash away everything that had happened back inside those doors.
The umbrella she was eventually forced to put up proved scant protection from the elements. It blew inside out several times as she joined the throng of people heading towards the city centre. She’d agreed to meet Jules, her flatmate, for a night out, and after today she’d earned it.
Most evenings she preferred to study, but Jules had insisted on helping her celebrate her first shift. As an F2, a Foundation Doctor in her second and final year of the training programme between medical school and specialist training, she’d taken it upon herself to instruct Lola in the ways of hospital life inside and outside of the wards.
‘We’re going to a new place tonight that all the girls in work are talking about. Somewhere you can really let your hair down,’ Jules had told her when she’d given her the address of the venue.
For Lola, that was even more terrifying than facing another shift with her French Fancy.
* * *
‘In burlesque, the emphasis is on the tease rather than the strip.’
Miss Angelique’s delicate accent filtered across the dimly lit room to reach the ears of her most reluctant pupil.
In Lola’s imagination the exotic sight and sound of the instructor should have transported her to a fabulous Parisian nightclub, where glamour and sophistication went hand in hand. Unfortunately the rumbling sound of buses outside and the accompanying smell of diesel through the open window were a constant reminder that she was stuck in a dingy dancehall in Belfast’s city centre.
‘When did Northern Ireland become a hotspot for the French populace?’ she muttered to Jules, who she now held entirely responsible for her bad mood. Prancing around as some trussed-up, half-dressed version of herself with one of Benoit’s countrymen bossing her around wasn’t exactly the perfect remedy for all that ailed her. ‘Tell me again—why am I doing this?’
‘To prevent you from ending up as some sad sack with only her books for company,’ Jules said, before her attention wandered back to the stage, where Miss Angelique moved seductively to a teasing big band soundtrack.
‘Maybe I like the sound of that.’ Lola pouted, and watched enviously as the instructor demonstrated a dance with oversized fluttering fans, never giving away more than a glimpse of the ivory silk corset she wore.
The stunning Frenchwoman projected a confidence in her body she could only dream of. Oh, how she longed to experience that freedom of movement, absent of any self-conscious thought, even for a short while. But owning her own sexuality, regardless of other people’s perceptions, was a skill Lola doubted even the fabulous Miss Angelique could teach her.
A pack of savage teenage boys had robbed her of ever having any confidence in her own skin. Their laughter still rang in her ears, and she could still see their sneering faces looming above her as they’d held her down and stripped her of her dignity.
She’d been a late bloomer—not helped by the fact that she’d had to wear her brother’s secondhand clothes and had sported the same short hairstyle her father gave all his offspring. But it hadn’t given anyone the right to call her names, to question her femininity, or demand proof that it existed.
She hated them for the pain they’d caused her—hated the school for not putting an end to the bullying before it had got that far. Most of all she hated herself for letting it happen. A stronger person would have fought them off before they’d exposed and humiliated her. A more attractive girl wouldn’t have had to. In the end she’d let herself down, and she was still fighting to make amends.
‘Now, ladies, we’ve already assigned your stage names for this evening, and we need to bring your alter egos to life. Help yourself to props.’
Angelique clapped her hands to assemble everyone at the front of the stage. The group dived in, and amongst a chorus of whoops and excited chatter they emerged sporting a selection of wigs, top hats and satin gloves.
Lola shuddered. Playing dress-up really wasn’t for her.
‘I have the perfect accessory for you, Luscious Lola.’ Jules approached, sequinned nipple tassels stuck on the outside of her top, and proceeded to hook a shocking pink feather boa around Lola’s neck.
‘Why, thank you, Juicy Jules.’ Lola addressed her friend by her burlesque name, too, and tickled her nose with the end of the fetching neckwear.
As much as she’d prefer to throw on an overcoat and hide from view, she couldn’t flat-out refuse to participate and let her friend down. However, the first sign that she was expected to start stripping and she was out of there. It was one thing pratting around with props, but a whole different trauma if it involved taking her clothes off.
Next time Jules suggested a night out Lola would opt for somewhere dark and quiet—like the cinema.
Angelique glided around the dance floor to round up her protégées like glamorous sheep. ‘I will show you some basics to get started. First we have the milkshake.’
She shimmied her ample cleavage and encouraged them to do the same.
‘I don’t have much to shake,’ Lola grumbled looking down at her chest. This was so not helping her overcome her body issues. Although she didn’t look like a flat-chested ten-year-old boy any more, she definitely couldn’t pull off that move.
‘Flaunt what God gave you.’ Angelique lifted Lola’s arms and shook it for her.
Lola smiled painfully on the outside even as her innards shrivelled up and died of shame. This was her worst nightmare come true. Quite possibly even beating the one about turning up to work naked. At least in that one no one expected her to pay for being publicly disgraced. She closed her eyes and prayed for it to stop.
‘Good.’ The Frenchwoman let her go with a wink. ‘Now, we need to get that booty popping, too. Jiggle that derrière!’
Lola swore revenge on Jules for making her twerk outside the sanctity of her own home. She gritted her teeth and pretended that shaking her ass was a way she liked to pass the time, in case the tactile tutor felt the need to touch her again.
The only thing that stopped her from walking out was the fact that this was an all-female ensemble and not in the least sexually threatening. These women were here for a laugh, and at some point she might actually see the humour, too. Probably when she was at home, safely hidden from grabby French hands.
Interspersed between the tapping of stilettos as the group practised their steps, the scrape of chairs sounded across the wooden floor to put Lola’s teeth even more on edge.
‘Now take a seat,’ Angelique invited them, and tutted when they did. ‘Not like that. Like this.’
She slid a chair through her legs, seat first, in one fluid movement, and sat astride it.
‘With our backsides flush against the back of the chair, we want to pop our legs over the top and lie back, grabbing on to the chair legs. It’s all about balance.’
Lola knew she should have worn trousers.
Angelique demonstrated a variety of provocative grinding moves until she had her followers riding the furniture like dirty cowgirls. Once Lola’s initial discomfort had passed, and she saw that the others were too preoccupied to watch what she was doing, she started to relax into it. This was supposed to be fun—a way to free herself from the tensions of the day, not add to them.
She emptied her mind from all negative thoughts and concentrated on being a good student. After all, this was only a chair, and she was fully dressed. If she stood any chance of moving on from the past she had to stop sweating the small stuff.
Surprisingly, once she let go she found herself enjoying the predatory nature of chair-dancing and the aggressive power it gave her—over the object, over her body. For once she had nothing to prove to anyone, and without the pressure she revelled in her sensuality.
In total abandon, she threw her head back and gave herself over to it—only to lock on to a familiar pair of male chocolate-caramel eyes staring down at her.
‘Well, hello, down there...’ The masculine French accent mocked her.
From her upside down view it seemed a long way up to find the voice. A pair of muscular jean-clad thighs filled her direct line of sight, but as she glanced up along the slim-fitting blue checked shirt emphasising a solid torso, she met the last face on earth she’d wanted to see smirking back at her.
‘Dr Benoit.’ Surprise at seeing the head of her department coupled with her awkward position in the chair turned Lola’s voice into a husky rasp. Clearly there was a two-for-one deal on nightmares coming true that she hadn’t been aware of.
‘Dr Roberts.’ He gave a slight nod of his head, that lopsided grin never leaving him.
Shame flushed through Lola’s system, bringing tension to every muscle as she withdrew into herself. With as much dignity as was available to her in the circumstances, she unhooked her legs and swivelled around to sit in a more civilised pose.
Without the cover of her fellow juniors she had an unimpeded view of her uninvited guest’s handsome looks. There was no denying that the strong smooth jaw and the slightly too-long black hair curling around his ears, along with that accent, gave him all the ingredients for the ultimate heartthrob. But not for her. In her experience good looks tended to hide cruel hearts, and thus far he’d proved no exception.
This little performance simply provided him with more ammo against her. As if it was needed.
‘So this is how you spend your time off?’ he asked.
Lola got the impression that he thought she would be better employed brushing up on her medical know-how.
The injustice of being caught out on her one night of respite and the sticky heat of embarrassment at her compromising situation crept along her body and made her snap. ‘It is no one’s business but mine what I do outside hospital hours. So if you’ll excuse me...?’
She thought her heart would pound out of her chest as she retaliated. Normally she wouldn’t dream of speaking to her superior in such a fashion, but she felt trapped, vulnerable beneath his stare, and she’d learned to fight back whenever she was placed in that situation. She pulled off the suffocating feather boa and made to get up from her chair.
Angelique appeared at her side and placed a restraining hand on her shoulder. ‘Stay where you are. Henri’s just leaving—aren’t you, dear?’
She batted her false lashes and shooed him away—much to Lola’s relief.
* * *
Henri slunk to the back of the room to take a seat, shaking his head in bewilderment. The familiar scene that had met him behind the studio doors—cackling females sticking their asses out—usually didn’t impress him at all. But tonight, seeing one of his staff in Ange’s ragtag bunch, had caught him totally off guard.
Lola—that was her name. It really didn’t suit her. ‘Lola’ conjured up images of a showgirl, confident and sure of her every move. The opposite of what she’d shown today. As her supervisor, it now fell to him to draw those qualities from her. One more responsibility to add to his load, and certainly one he could do without.
She obviously had the book smarts to have got this far in her career, but as first appearances went...he was not impressed. He didn’t tolerate slacking in his department. Not when he’d already stood by and watched his sister let her medical career slip away without a fight.
Even now Lola appeared to have separated herself from the rest of the group, hiding away in the corner. Although the assertive nature he’d witnessed when he’d walked in and her feisty tone when she’d put him in his place was a complete departure from the hesitant junior doctor he’d encountered earlier.
Relegated to the role of peeping Tom, watching her from the shadows, he was mesmerised by her body-rolls. Every move of her hips showed off the lace-topped stockings under that minuscule skirt and called to his basest needs. Clearly it had been too long since his last hook-up with the opposite sex if the sultry fashion in which Lola straddled the chair seat was making him envy the damn thing!
It wasn’t a good idea to be thinking about his new recruit with her bouncy little blonde ponytail and ridiculous pink stethoscope this way. She’d already distracted him from the small matter of his niece’s apparent truancy, which he’d come to discuss with Angelique.
Ange stalked over to his corner to wag a finger at him. ‘I can’t afford to have you scaring off my customers, Henri.’
His older sister gave him that withering look guaranteed to make him regress back into the role of reprimanded teenager. Given the years he’d spent under her wing, he’d had many a rap on the knuckles from her—but he still respected her, and would never purposely do anything to make her regret the sacrifices she had made for him.
‘I only said hello,’ he muttered, still unable to take his eyes off the performance behind her.
‘Well, you shouldn’t be in here anyway,’ she huffed.
Angelique saved him the trouble of leaving by turning her back on him and ending the session with a round of applause for her trainee dancers.
‘Très bien. Great stuff, guys. I’m afraid that’s all we have time for tonight. I hope you’ve had fun.’
The flushed, smiling faces staring back at her said it all. Never one to miss an opportunity, she left him to go and hand out her business cards.
‘I know this lesson was probably intended as a one-off, but if you want to join us I run classes most evenings. It’s a great way to stay in shape and keep the man in your life very happy.’
The girls tittered. Henri groaned. He still couldn’t quite come to terms with her line of work. Especially when it was his fault she’d traded in a proper career to earn money dancing half naked. If their parents hadn’t been killed in that car crash, if Angelique hadn’t had to raise a teenage boy on her own, she might have been a respected medical professional by now.
All her studying had gone to waste, her bright future gone in a puff of smoke, in order for her to put food on the table for her little brother. They’d both been handed a life sentence that cold winter’s day which had robbed them of their mother and father. And where Angelique seemed to have made peace with the outcome, Henri knew he never would. He’d only managed to follow his dreams at the price of his sister’s.
The one consolation was that Ange’s audience these days mainly consisted of fun-loving females who wanted to learn burlesque, rather than inebriated leering men. If it hadn’t been for one of those men in particular, neither Henri nor Angelique would ever have left Paris for the rain-soaked streets of Northern Ireland. Then again, without the beau who’d enticed his sister to Belfast they wouldn’t have Gabrielle and Bastien in their lives—and that was unthinkable, even on the most trying of days.
Henri was forced to wait until Angelique’s students had heaped their praises and thanks upon her before he could get a word in.
His patience was wearing thin. They had much more important things to be doing—like trying to figure out why Gabrielle had decided to start skipping school. With Angelique’s ex-husband out of the picture, Henri felt even more obligated to his sibling. So much so that he’d undertaken a lot of parental responsibility for the children whose father had long since abandoned them. They needed to get to the bottom of Gabrielle’s recent behaviour, but it wasn’t a conversation he wished to have with an audience.
‘Can we go now? I’m not comfortable as the only eligible male in the company of so many desperate women.’
Angelique turned to him, and only then did Henri realise she wasn’t alone. The highlight of his evening stood open-mouthed behind her, emerald eyes now glittering with contempt.
Hands on hips, Lola took a step forward. ‘Funny—I didn’t get the memo that said we “desperate women” were dancing for anyone else’s benefit other than our own.’
Henri cursed himself for the overheard harsh words that had caused Lola’s soft pink lips to draw into a tight line.
Her features only softened when she addressed her instructor again. ‘Thanks for an enjoyable night and it was lovely to meet you.’
Lola tossed her golden mane of hair over her shoulder and, with self-righteous grace, made her exit, Henri put firmly in his place. The woman definitely had bite, and that had succeeded in piquing his interest. If only he could get her to show that passion and spirit in the workplace...
‘Idiot!’
Ange brought him back into the room. With half their lives having been spent living and working in Northern Ireland their native tongue had almost been rendered a distant memory, but her accent increased when she was angry—and, boy, was she angry.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just—’
‘I know you don’t like what I do, Henri, but this is how I make my living and you can’t be rude to my customers. Maybe it’s better if you stay away from now on.’
Ange didn’t give him a chance to explain his irritability as she threw props back into the box with a ferocity Henri knew she wanted to direct at him.
‘I won’t say another word. Promise. I’ll help you get locked up and then I’ll take you home.’
Where they could both confront his niece about what was going on. The only reason he hadn’t said anything to Gabrielle himself since the phone call from her headmistress was because he didn’t want to step on Angelique’s toes. It was her daughter they were dealing with, after all.
‘Thanks, but I’ll walk.’ She pulled on a mac over her scant outfit and flicked off the lights.
‘You can’t go out there like that!’
Henri forgot himself and once again voiced his concern about her fashion sense, regardless that she’d reminded him time and time again that he wasn’t her father. He couldn’t help himself. It didn’t bear thinking about that something should happen to the only important woman in his life and he hadn’t attempted to prevent it.
‘I’m an adult, Henri. I can look after myself, and sooner or later you’re going to have to realise that.’
She all but shoved him out through the door, and Henri was given the brush-off by a second woman in as many minutes.
* * *
Lola kept her back ramrod-straight until she reached her car and crumpled into the front seat. She had taken the opportunity to have a private word with Angelique when Jules and the others had gone on to the pub, toying with the idea of continuing the lessons in an effort to kick-start her self-esteem.
Textbooks were great for swotting up, but they didn’t help her deal with people face-to-face—and, for her, that remained the most daunting element of her job. For every model citizen she encountered, there were going to be times when she was alone with aggressive patients, or cocky men who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. She knew that, and accepted it, but she also knew she needed to get into the right frame of mind to deal with it effectively.
The protocol for those situations probably wasn’t to burst into tears and curl into a ball. It would take even more bravery than she’d mustered to leave home and go through medical school, to tell potential troublemakers to back off with any authority.
Until this evening she hadn’t realised how much inner strength she possessed. Dancing had helped her explore a side of herself she hadn’t known existed, and she would embrace all the help available to embark on this new phase of her life and overcome her fears. It was too bad that Mr Ego of the Year had taken that sliver of newfound confidence and crushed it underfoot.
Lola groaned, predicting that the repercussions of tonight’s ill-tempered exchange would surely be felt at work.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d spoken to anyone like that—never mind a man with the power to make or break her career. But the fault totally lay at Henri Benoit’s feet. He had no business crossing paths with her outside the hospital and insulting her when she’d been so exposed. For an unguarded moment she’d let light break through the darkness, only for him to cast her back in shadow. The problem was she had no way of explaining that—or her defensive reaction to it—if he decided to haul her over the coals tomorrow.
‘I won’t cry,’ she said out loud, determined not to let another arrogant male reduce her to a gibbering wreck.
Engine started, she threw her Mini into Reverse and put her foot on the accelerator.
A loud bang and the jolt of the car caused her to slam on the brakes.
She didn’t dare look.
Whatever she’d hit, she couldn’t afford it.
Outside, she heard a car door open and close, heavy footsteps coming towards her. She switched off the ignition and braced herself, but the footsteps had stopped—no doubt to survey the damage.
‘Mon Dieu!’
The foreign curse instantly gave away the identity of her victim.
Lola closed her eyes. Oh, please. Not him!
She slowly unclipped her seat belt and got out of the car to enter into the fearful realm of the Frenchman’s ire.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, knowing she didn’t sound a fraction apologetic.
He bent down to inspect the cracked registration plate of his red sports car. Typical. She couldn’t have hit a clapped-out rust heap—it would have to be this shiny status symbol.
‘Is this payback for what I said in there?’
The patronising tone he used grated on Lola’s already sensitive last nerve.
‘I’m not that petty. Besides, it’s only the number plate that looks damaged.’ It wasn’t as though she’d written off his boy toy altogether.
‘Does your clown car not come with mirrors fitted?’
He looked down his high-bridged nose at her with a smug expression she wanted to slap off his face. The car she drove was a luxury, allowed her by the generosity of her brothers, who’d painstakingly restored it from its rusty former self and made it hers with a bubblegum-pink respray. Not everyone was afforded the life of privilege she imagined he’d led, and any snooty slight against her family was the one thing guaranteed to make her blood boil.
‘I would have thought your ego was big enough to use as a force field and deflect the Pink Peril.’
With three elder brothers, exchanging childish insults came as naturally as breathing for Lola. She already had a black mark against her for squaring up to him, so she might as well make it count. Besides, he’d gone down the snarky route first.
‘The Pink Peril?’ he echoed incredulously and the grin grew into a full-on beaming smile.
He was treading on dangerous ground now.
‘My brothers named it,’ she huffed, and told her easily pleased inner schoolgirl, which was squealing with hormonal appreciation at the appearance of man dimples, to shut up. It was surely another sign of trauma manifesting itself that she found a man insulting her attractive.
‘Do I take it that’s a reference to your driving skills?’ His eyes shone with suppressed laughter, the skin creasing at the corners to elevate his hunk status.
‘I have excellent driving skills,’ she protested.
‘So I see.’ He lifted a thick dark brow as he glanced back at the damage.
‘Look, I’ve apologised. I’ll pay for repairs. So, if we’re done here...?’
It was time she left—before she completely shot down her career. This man seemingly brought out the worst in her, and that wasn’t conducive to a happy six weeks under his tutelage.
Far from helping her get over the day’s trials and tribulations, this whole evening had simply heaped more stress upon her. At least with this latest disaster she knew she could count on her brothers to make any necessary repairs with the minimum of fuss. If only they could come to work with her tomorrow and clear up the mess she’d made there, too, she might have a chance of clawing back some respect.
‘I think I have an apology of my own to make. I didn’t mean to insult you in there.’
Henri ignored her need to end the conversation and perched his butt on the bonnet of his precious car.
‘And yet you did.’ She folded her arms across her chest as he brought up the subject of his slur against her character once more. He couldn’t know the throwaway insult had hit her on such a personal level, but that didn’t give him the right to end up the good guy here.
‘The problem is between Angelique and myself. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. It’s fair to say I don’t exactly approve of the work she does.’ A shake of his head emphasised his dismay.
‘She seems like a woman who knows her own mind.’ Lola didn’t imagine a free spirit such as Angelique needed his permission to do something she obviously loved.
‘Ah, but Ange doesn’t always know what’s best for her.’
The sincerity Henri expressed brought goosebumps along Lola’s skin. Even though he might not agree with his other half’s lifestyle choice, his devotion was beyond doubt. The only unconditional love Lola had ever had was from her brothers. The tragic tale of her failed past relationships was entirely to do with her reluctance to let anyone else get close. She considered Angelique a very lucky woman.
‘It’s chilly out here, so if we could get back to rectifying this mess I would like to get home. I really think your licence plate took the full impact, and I can get my brother to order you a new one. I hardly think it warrants involving insurance companies.’
What went on behind the doors of chez Benoit was none of her business—she certainly didn’t want to warm towards the man responsible for ruining her entire day. All she wanted to do now was call it quits and start afresh tomorrow.
‘In that case we can sort the details out at work. I can see you’re in a hurry.’
He finally took the hint and Lola dashed back to her car to wait for him to move.
As she sat with her arms locked out straight, holding on to the steering wheel for dear life, she exhaled slowly. Everything seemed to hit her at once, and her heart started drumming so hard she thought she might just pass out.
One night of escapism, thinking she could be ‘normal’, and she’d played stripper, crashed her car and had another run-in with her boss—embarrassing herself at every step. It was more excitement in her life than she cared for.
The next six weeks working under Henri Benoit stretched before her like a prison sentence. One with absolutely no chance of getting time off for good behaviour.
