Ooh La La Read online

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  Praise for Doreen Alsen

  Ooh La La

  Copyright

  Dedications

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  Her eyes were a dreamy shade of blue, the greenish

  blue of a calm sea. Her nose was small and straight in the middle of an oval face. Pretty. Very pretty.

  “Yes,” she said. “I came to apologize for running you over. Unfortunately I’m Queen of the Klutzes.”

  “Okay.” He held out a hand for her to shake. “Simon West. How did you know where to find me?”

  She smiled and nodded at the Barrett University Dance T-shirt he wore. “I went to the Dance Department office and asked. I’m Veronica Cooke. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

  “You didn’t. Hurt me, that is.” Since when did he babble?

  Since now, he guessed. He had a hard time thinking around her. He wanted to reach out and touch her cheek to see if her skin was as soft and smooth as it looked.

  “Well, good. You’re a wonderful dancer. I wish I had that talent.” She glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to get to my office hours. It was nice to meet you.” She turned to leave.

  He didn’t want her to. He found he very much wanted her to stay. Here. With him. “Um, do you have time to get coffee later?” He wasn’t dancing at Hardbody that night.

  “I might. When?”

  “Around four?”

  “Four sounds great. Where?”

  “Sammy’s?”

  “Okay. I’ll see you then.” She gave him one last smile and left.

  He indulged himself and watched her trundle down the hall. “I think I need to get to know you better, Veronica Cooke.”

  Praise for Doreen Alsen

  “This story [WORKING MY WAY BACK TO YOU] from the Lobster Cove Series is emotional and romantic. Doreen Alsen knows exactly how to pull at the heart strings to create a story that will long time be remembered by the reader.”

  ~Fresh Fiction Reviews

  ~*~

  “The best part of finding a new author you have not read before, is finding there are other books of theirs to try. I thought [CHARMING DAVE] this was a beautiful story. It had everything you could hope for in a book, romance, humor, drama, and a really good story.”

  ~Single Title Reviews

  Ooh La La

  by

  Doreen Alsen

  A Candy Hearts Romance

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Ooh La La

  COPYRIGHT © 2016 by Doreen Alsen

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Tina Lynn Stout

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Champagne Rose Edition, 2016

  Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-0600-1

  A Candy Hearts Romance

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedications

  For Jackson. I miss my wing man!

  ~*~

  And, as always, for Eberhard, Emilia, and Louisa,

  the best family I could ever wish for.

  Chapter One

  A male strip club! Seriously. Who could possibly believe that shy, color between the lines, follow every rule, Veronica Cooke had gone to a strip club? One called Hardbody! She gripped the strap of her purse in a chokehold. Why hadn’t she told her friends no?

  “I can’t believe you’re bringing me here!” Veronica looked around. The total darkness was only occasionally lit by tiny pricks of light. The noise came complete with pounding music, throbbing beats and raucous, intoxicated women having too much fun.

  “You’ll have a great time,” Gina Ross told Veronica. She wound the group through tables and chairs to get a table right up close to a dimly lit catwalk stage attached to the proscenium that cut right into the excited women in the club. “Trust me.”

  Trust her? Ha!

  “Here we are.” Gina grinned. “Veronica, you’re sitting here.” She pulled out the seat closest to the stage.

  Oh no. “I’m okay over here.” She reached into her bag and rummaged for her inhaler.

  “You are not.” Andi Kelly, another of Veronica’s friends, pushed her into the seat.

  As Veronica’s legs had turned into noodles, she dropped on the chair. She took three big hits off the inhaler. She held the last blast in her cheeks and mentally counted to ten.

  Her friends had all dressed casually in jeans and cute stylish tops. Veronica looked down at her own outfit of loose fitting gray slacks and crisp, white, classic blouse, with a sailor collar. She’d scraped her ordinary brown hair back into a ponytail and decorated her ears with simple amethyst studs.

  She wasn’t a memorable person, so she felt it best not to try to get noticed. It had worked well for her in the past, so she didn’t plan to change anytime soon.

  Veronica didn’t see the waitress come to their table. She did notice her leave. “She didn’t get my order.”

  Ainslie Mason, friend number three, shot a smug looking smile. “We ordered for you.”

  “What? What did you order for me?”

  Gina rubbed Veronica’s back. “Our mission tonight is to get you to relax and have fun, which is a foreign concept to you. We’re here to show you there’s a lot more to life than numbers and balance sheets.”

  Veronica sighed. “I like numbers and balance sheets,” she muttered.

  “Of course you do,” Andi soothed. “But every once in a while it’s fun to take a walk on the wild side and blow off some steam.” She took Veronica’s hands. “I learned that the hard way.”

  “I’ve heard they’ve got some new guy dancing and that defines hot. Hotter than hot.” Gina fanned herself.

  Ainslie lifted a dubious eyebrow. “I didn’t know my husband decided to moonlight as an exotic dancer.”

  Gina and Andi cracked up at that. Ainslie’s husband Dave was movie star handsome, but the idea of him dancing on a stage, taking his clothes off in front of a roomful of cheering woman just didn’t track.

  Veronica laughed along with the others but she had to force it out of her mouth.

  The waitress came back. “Here we go, ladies. Four Cosmopolitans. Enjoy!”

  Gina, Andi, and Ainslie lifted their glasses. Veronica hesitated but picked up her glass. “Salud!” Gina held her Cosmo a little higher. “Salud!” Andi and Ainslie replied.

  “Salud.” Veronica knocked her glass against the others. She took a sip of her bright pink beverage and shuddered, but swallowed gamely. The alcohol burned as it went down her throat and she coughed. Andi slapped her back.

  She took stock of her surroundings. She didn’t see anything that matched up with her idea of what a strip club looked like. The room was dimly lit, like most bars, and bright multi-colored lights punched through the darkness at random intervals. Loud d
ance music thumped from speakers around the room. The clientele were all women—professional looking women—clearly there to have a good time. They screamed and laughed and danced together around the bar and the tables.

  There was no stripper pole to be seen. Really, it could have been a hip dance club anywhere in the area north of Boston.

  A brilliant beam of white light illuminated the stage. The music changed to slow and sultry, but with the same throbbing bass and drum licks that rumbled through her body from toes to the top of her head. Every pulse heightened her awareness and, God help her, anticipation.

  A blond man in a cowboy hat, a mask made of a bandana over the lower half of his face, and long duster, strode onto the stage. He tipped his hat so his face was in shadow and looked down at his feet.

  Without warning, the man tipped his hat back and shrugged out of his floor length duster, revealing an amazing set of abs and a set of shoulders that could only have been carved in marble.

  Veronica’s cowboy—when the hell had he become her cowboy—was spectacular.

  He undulated his hips in slow circles, his thumbs hooked into his belt. The music’s tempo picked up and he moved in response, his motions fluid and sensuous, meant to seduce a woman.

  Her throat went dry, like she’d just spent months in the Sahara. The man was drop-dead gorgeous with the face of a fallen angel, hell-bent on bringing a woman to sin.

  The tempo of the music picked up, and he slid to the end of the stage, leaned back on his haunches, one hand behind him, the other on his hat, which he then threw into the screaming, whistling swarm of women, who clutched fists of paper money to throw at him.

  Leaping back to his feet, he flew across the expanse of space to the side opposite from where Veronica sat. His routine was athletic, full of twirls, spins, and acrobatics.

  He spun to her side of the stage, heaven and hell in a pair of chaps. He dropped to the floor and did the coffee grinder then jumped abruptly to his feet and did another gymnastic combination worthy of the Olympics.

  Veronica worked hard to swallow.

  His oiled abdominal muscles and wide chest made a girl think of sex.

  Sweaty, heart pounding sex.

  Oh, my.

  She couldn’t tear her eyes away, even if she’d wanted to.

  Then he looked straight at her with the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. She wished she could see his mouth. He moved away from her quickly leaping to the end of the plank. With one swift, expert motion he snapped off his jeans, right down to a black satin G-string.

  Gina leaned over to her. “Breathe. Can’t have you swooning now, can we?” She laughed.

  Breathing sounded like a good idea. Inhale, exhale.

  Out goes the bad air, in comes the good.

  The cowboy undulated his pelvis side to side, back to front. He finished his act in time with the hot pounding music and…boom!

  Just like that he was gone.

  The ladies in the club went crazy, screaming and whistling, trying to get him back on stage. A hunky construction worker came out instead.

  Veronica couldn’t muster much enthusiasm for the next dancer. She was still mesmerized by a pair of azure eyes.

  ****

  Simon West took a hand towel and wiped the sweat off his face. He shrugged into his dark terry robe and leaned his back against the whitewashed brick wall. Really, it was just a normal night, just a regular show.

  Then he’d locked eyes with the gorgeous brunette who sat stage left.

  He hadn’t really seen her, not clearly because of the stage lights shining in his eyes. But damn! He’d sure as hell felt the pull of attraction between them.

  No, no, no, no, no. Forget the whole thing. She probably wouldn’t be back after tonight and that was a good thing.

  He only took this job as a way to put food on the table and pay the rent. His job as an adjunct professor of dance at Barrett University paid diddly. He had high hopes for snagging a job as choreographer for the Addington Ballet Guild’s next performance of Igor Stravinsky’s Le Sacre du Printemps, otherwise known as The Rite of Spring. Then he’d be set.

  Simon had so many ideas he wanted to put into play, adding his own spin on Nijinsky’s original dance maneuvers. He’d spent his entire life itching to choreograph that ballet, especially because of all the controversy it had caused in 1913.

  He wasn’t embarrassed about his job as an exotic dancer. They paid well and he got to dance.

  Not like those non-major dance classes at the university. Even if teaching did lend him an air of seriousness and dignity which stripping definitely did not, the sooner he got out of that situation, the better.

  It did lend an air of seriousness and dignity that stripping definitely did not.

  Whatever. He’d do what he had to do to get his dream of being the director of choreography at a prestigious dance company. For that to happen he had to avoid diversions on his path to fame.

  No more thoughts of magnetic, attractive brunettes.

  Eye on the prize, boy. Eye on the prize.

  Chapter Two

  Veronica walked down the corridors of the Old Main building on campus yawning. She never should have stayed up so late last night. Regardless, she hadn’t been able to sleep because she couldn’t get a certain blue eyed, nameless cowboy out of her mind.

  Her slim gold watch said she was almost late for her Senior Accounting class. A panicky feeling came over her, as she abhorred being late and prided herself for always being on time.

  She couldn’t believe she went to a strip club last night. A very clean and nice strip club, but nevertheless, it was a strip club. Full of strippers!

  And she’d liked it. Couldn’t fool herself about that.

  She shoved thoughts of her cowboy, gorgeous as he was, to the back of her mind, right where they belonged.

  ****

  Simon had a meeting in the music department and he was late. The quickest way to the music department was through the math wing of Old Main. He shuddered. Math was made of evil.

  Bean counters was what they were, pushing around numbers instead of pulling out emotions. He’d go stark raving mad if he had to count higher than eight. Even though he tried, he couldn’t even balance his checkbook. Given his income, miniscule as it was, that shouldn’t be hard to do, yet there he was, defeated by his calculator.

  The people at H&R Block groaned when he showed up with a shoebox stuffed full of receipts. He couldn’t say he blamed them.

  “Mr. West!”

  He turned to see who’d called his name.

  He promptly got tossed on his ass by another person coming from the opposite direction. “Oof!”

  Someone, definitely female, sprawled on top of him. “Oh my God! I’m so sorry!” She tried to roll off but only succeeded in planting her knee in the family jewels.

  Pain shot from his groin to every other part of his body. He had trouble dragging in a breath. He drew his knees into his chest and rocked like a baby.

  ****

  Veronica knew it was bad and cursed her clumsy self. Grace wasn’t her middle name. She’d gotten thrown out of elementary ballet because they said she was hopeless. That she didn’t possess one ounce of coordination and that her parents shouldn’t waste their money. It still stung, even if the truth of it followed her.

  Never mind. She had to get off this guy without causing him further damage. She locked her body into a plank position and rolled away.

  Fortunately, she didn’t cause further pain for the man. At least he didn’t groan again. She scrambled to her knees. “Did I hurt you?”

  He struggled onto his elbows. “What do you think?”

  Veronica glanced at her watch. “I’ll make it up to you later! I’ve got class right now and I’m going to be late.” She got to her feet and scurried away.

  She would make it up to him as soon as she found out who he was.

  ****

  “Who the hell was that?” Simon chuffed out on a labored breath.


  Some students stopped to help him up. “That’s Ms. Cooke from the accounting department.”

  A damn bean counter! Of course she’d run him down and kicked him in the balls.

  He refused help to stand upright but somehow his usual grace and equilibrium deserted him as he struggled to his feet. He would have something to say to Ms. Cooke from the accounting department as soon as humanly possible.

  The sooner, the better.

  Chapter Three

  Veronica got to the classroom and counted to ten to settle herself. The man she’d just plowed into looked an awful lot like the cowboy from the previous night, at least what hadn’t been masked. Or maybe she’d been so star struck by him that she saw him everywhere.

  She thanked God she’d planned an exam for today’s class. She didn’t think she could string words together to make a coherent sentence.

  She did know that after class she had to find her hapless victim and apologize.

  And if he was her cowboy? She’d cross that bridge when she came to it.

  If she didn’t faint first.

  ****

  “And five, six, seven, eight, flap two, three, four, five, six, and step, ball change, stage left, two, three, four, five, six, and step, ball change, backwards two, three, four, five, six and step, ball change, stage right, two, three, four, five, six, and step, ball change,” Simon called to his rudiments of tap dance class. “Good job!”

  Well, he thought, it wasn’t a total train wreck, if you overlooked the sloppy, stuttering beats and total lack of enthusiasm.

  The students at Barrett could take beginner dance classes as either a Fine Arts or Physical Education credit. It was dead boring to teach them.

  Of course the kids didn’t practice between classes. He taught the same routines every class. The kids made the same mistakes every single time.

  The truly sad part of it? He wanted the kids to succeed. He wanted them to love dancing, to push past the counts and steps and embrace the freedom dancing provided.

  Too bad it looked like hell would freeze over before that happened.

  A movement came from the dance studio door. It was the woman who trampled all over him earlier in the hall of Old Main. He winced. Maybe she’d come back to finish the job