by T Gephart
And little-known fact about me, I had a tendency to get jealous. Crazy, because mostly it seemed I was so ambivalent about love and relationships. But that was because I’d never really invested too deeply, knowing how much of myself I’d have to give. I was a perfectionist, and if I did lose my mind and fell in love, I worried it would consume me. So, not sure I wanted to live in the unhealthy reality where I’d be constantly wondering if he was with someone else.
Therefore, the only option would be a casual fling.
The set-up was perfect.
He was gorgeous and he’d eventually leave which meant no messy breakup. Yet, even knowing that, I couldn’t understand why it still felt like a mistake.
Indecision made me uncomfortable, the churning in my gut reason enough for letting it go to voicemail when he called me to organize our weekend gala “date.” I listened to his low sexy voice as he asked me to call him back, allowing myself only to text him a response.
Sorry, swamped. Some of us have work to do and haven’t got time to play. What time do you want me to meet you on Saturday? The Prince George Ballroom, right?
I’d done enough research on the gala to know where it was and that tickets started at five thousand dollars. Not sure he knew the price tag when making his grand declaration for all of us to go meet a man whose significance he had no idea about. And either he had more money than sense, willing to part with a few grand to prove a point. Or he was just as stubborn as I was, unwilling to admit defeat. I didn’t have to wait too long for his reply.
Zara, there’s always time to play. But if you need help with time management, all you have to do is ask. And I’ll pick you up at 6.
I rolled my eyes, only partially annoyed at his jab.
There’s nothing wrong with my time management, and you are the last person I need help from. Also, more than capable of getting my own ride.
Wow, the last person? Surely there’s other people on that list. Serial killers? Arsonists? Tax attorneys—I mean could they be any more boring? But if you need to lie to make yourself feel better, okay we’ll go with it. And picking you up was for Terry’s benefit, not mine.
I laughed, shaking my head at his response. I was fairly secure in myself but he took confidence to a new level.
Umm, who is Terry? I thought it was just you, me and Nate?
Terry is my driver. And while I’ve told him you’re not interested, he’s gotten rather smitten. You don’t want to break the poor guy’s heart, do you?
My brows scrunched in confusion. I wasn’t even sure if I’d even introduced myself to his driver, and we’d definitely not had a conversation.
Your driver? I barely said two words to him when he drove me home. Not sure how smitten he could have gotten in a silent, brief and single interaction.
Two interactions. He drove us to my hotel before he drove you home. And he likes his women strong and silent, who may potentially rip off his balls. Personally, I think he’s crazy, but the heart wants what the heart wants. So 6. Your place. I’ll even tell him to ignore you so not to make you uncomfortable with his obviously one-sided affections. ;-)
You know you have issues, right? Fine, tell Terry I’ll be ready at 6.
Excellent, it will be the highlight of his night.
My fingers hesitated over the glass, not wanting the conversation to end but having no real purpose to continue. We’d needed to make plans and we’d done that, all that was left was to say goodbye. But I didn’t want to, both glad and annoyed I hadn’t called him. I was still mentally debating what to say next when his next text arrived.
You know, you can tell me, Zara.
Huh? Short of him hearing my thoughts, he couldn’t know my feelings were conflicted. Or that secretly I was desperately wanting to see him again. I held my breath as I sent my response.
Tell you what?
Why Edwin Carlisle was so important.
I breathed out a sigh of relief, glad it was just his curiosity over Edwin and not something else. Maybe I should just come clean? Tell him the whole ridiculous story. He’d no doubt think I was a moron for chasing after a man whose name I’d been given at a carnival sideshow when I was a teenager. Maybe he’d lose interest, seeing how ridiculous the situation had been. Think I was ridiculous, and not bother to show up on Saturday. It would let me off the hook, and whether or not I kissed him again wouldn’t even be an issue. Because honestly, I really, really wanted to. And I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop at just kissing.
Before I could stop myself, I pressed call and held the phone up against my ear. I was still shaking my head when I heard it connect.
“Zara.” His voice was low and gravelly, and my name had never sounded sexier. I had to take a breath and refocus, reminding myself why I’d called in the first place.
“Belle and I saw this fortune teller woman at Coney Island when we were kids. She said Edwin Carlisle was the name of the guy I’m supposed to fall in love with and marry.” I sucked in air, barely taking a break before continuing. “Of course, I knew she was full of shit, but Belle was convinced. So when we heard the name over the speaker at the hospital, we got curious. And before you say anything, I know how ridiculous it sounds. But it was easier to go along with it, prove to Belle there was no secret out-of-this-world force at work than argue. So there you have it.”
I waited, the silence on the other end making me more edgy than I liked. But if it was all going to unravel, I’d rather it happen before we were riding to a gala, having committed to spending an evening together.
“Well, that is an interesting story. Thanks for sharing it with me.”
The sarcasm was missing from his voice, but I wasn’t sure if he was being sincere. He could totally be humoring me, holding back his laughter and being polite, and I’d have no idea. And somehow that made it worse.
“Yeah, okay, so I’ll see you at six on Saturday.” I did my best to sound indifferent, more than a little disappointed by his response. I hadn’t wanted for him to think I was crazy, but I’d expected something. Even if it was a little friendly teasing.
“Six. I’ll look forward to it.”
And before I knew what was happening, the call had ended.
I should’ve been relieved, saved from the ridicule which was probably appropriate, given the circumstances. Hell, I was involved and I thought it was ridiculous, I could only imagine what someone from the outside must think.
Shaking it off, I lowered the phone and went back to my work. I’d been home for over an hour and was still going over briefs. Not that I could concentrate anymore, reading the same sentence three times before I finally gave up.
What was he thinking? And why did I even care? I didn’t even have to go on this date—which wasn’t a date—on Saturday if I didn’t want to. I hadn’t been the one to tell him to spend the money on tickets, and even if I had, it was my prerogative to change my mind.
But as much as I tried to talk myself into calling him back and canceling, I couldn’t. Wanting to see him again, and possibly demanding to know why he hadn’t said anything when I’d finally confessed the truth.
Screw him.
Screw him and his opinion—or lack thereof—and the stupid attraction I clearly still had. It was a silly, unhealthy addiction I needed to shake.
I’d find someone else.
Anyone else.
And have random, hot sex with a guy who I didn’t have complicated entanglements with. Maybe it would be the real Edwin Carlisle. Or maybe I was completely done with all things to do with that man and should go find myself a guy I barely knew and lose myself in a screaming orgasm.
Yes.
That was exactly what I’d do.
Because clearly boredom or sexual frustration was to blame for why I was so hung up on a guy I barely knew.
My hand tightened around my phone, fighting the urge to call him back even though I knew it was a totally bad idea.
Nope.
Not going to happen.
Instead, I
lifted myself off my bed and walked out to the living room where Belle was camped out with a script she was working on for an audition.
“Hey, you want to go out?” I asked, not completely sold on the idea but not wanting to sit at home either.
“On a Thursday?” Belle’s eyes widened in surprise before fishing out her phone and looking at the time display. “At ten o’clock at night?”
“I’ve gone out during the week before, Belle, don’t act like I’m tucked up in bed with a cup of warm milk every night,” I scoffed, folding my arms across my chest.
“Sure, for a firm function or a date, or some other obligation that you can’t weasel out of. But voluntarily going out on a school night,” Belle shook her head, “yeah, not something you’ve done in a while.”
“Well then that’s a problem because the last thing I want to be is predictable and boring.” And wasn’t that the truth. “So let’s get dressed and go out somewhere. We live in one of the best cities in the world, and I’ve got my entire life to sit at home going through depositions.”
Belle stood up, flattening her palm against my forehead. “You’re not sick, are you? This isn’t some fever-induced psychosis, is it? Because it’s usually me trying to drag you out, and you giving me a line about how we should be responsible.”
She had a point, and usually I hated being out late when I had to wake up early for work. The partners expected my A game, and that meant getting there before nine and staying well after five. And being tired or hungover from a night of partying wasn’t conducive to any of that.
“Okay, so maybe I’ve decided that I want to do something different.”
“This wouldn’t have anything to do with certain hot lawyer from Boston, would it?” Her brow rose in suspicion. “I’m fine with it if we’re trying to make him jealous, I just would prefer to know.”
My hands anchored themselves on my hips, my sister too observant for her own good “No, this is nothing to do with him. And how am I going to make him jealous? He doesn’t even know I’m going out.”
Would he even care?
Other than potentially being annoyed I was with someone else other than him, it wasn’t like he had feelings for me other than physical attraction. And who knew if he was—more than likely—entertaining a string of other women while I was sitting at home working my ass off. It wasn’t like our upcoming “date” qualified for anything that required his monogamy.
Belle didn’t seem convinced, eyeing me with the same look she did when she knew I wasn’t being honest. The head tip to the side was added in case she wasn’t being dramatic enough.
“Oh, really? So the guy you said you had no interest in, who you’ve been out to dinner with earlier this week and have plans with for some fancy ball this Saturday, has nothing to do with this sudden need to go out?” She lifted her finger, stopping me from interjecting before continuing. “And before you answer I’ll remind you that the walls aren’t that thick and I heard you were just on the phone with him.”
“I thought you were going over lines for an audition?” I asked drily.
“Oh, I am but I can multitask.” She smirked. “And you know I can’t help myself but be invested in this. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have even met him. So the way I see it, I’m involved in this too.”
Belle really needed her own relationship, then she could stop being so interested in mine. Not that I was in a relationship. Or even looking for one. Or . . . something even close to a relationship.
“So maybe I have some complicated feelings about Lincoln,” I admitted, deciding there was no point trying to hide the truth. She was the only person who could read me like a book. Not even our parents had that skill, and it was something I’d guarded closely.
“Complicated how?” Her script was tossed to the side as she turned all her attention to me.
“I like him.”
The words had left my mouth before I could sensor them, making me sound so vulnerable and slightly immature. They weren’t qualified within the confines of time and knowledge, hell, I barely knew him at all. But whether or not I felt they were valid, it didn’t make them any less true.
I liked him.
I did.
And I wanted to know him in all the ways that mattered.
Belle sighed, patting the sofa beside her and inviting me to take a seat. “Well then, we’re not going out. Instead we’re going to sit here and you’re going to do what you’ve always done. Find a way to make it work.”
She was right. I needed to find a way to make it work.
I just wasn’t sure if that meant getting involved, or forgetting him entirely.
Lincoln
I’d never been the kind of guy to count down to a date.
There was never a knot of anticipation in my gut, and not since college had I had any confusion as to how I thought it was going to end.
But Zara was different, and the unpredictability wasn’t only exciting but made her even more attractive. So when Saturday finally arrived, it came as no surprise I was watching the clock.
I’d arrived at her apartment just before six and waited downstairs like she’d instructed. Why she wouldn’t buzz me up so I could wait inside was beyond me, so instead I stood on the pavement outside the exterior door like a stalker. She didn’t seem like she was in a hurry either, taking her time before she finally made an appearance.
My hand was ready on the buzzer, about to press it again, when she pulled the door open.
Jesus.
Christ.
She was beautiful.
Breathtakingly gorgeous in a full-length red gown that gathered at both shoulders and dipped low at her cleavage. It looked expensive and classy, and sexier than should be allowed.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.” She smirked, not looking at all sorry as she stepped outside.
My eyes floated up and down her body, stalling as they landed on her tits. I wasn’t sure whose benefit the dress was for—mine or Edwin—but I was currently reaping the rewards. And despite the possibility it had been for him, I was refusing to entertain the negativity, preferring the version I had in my head where she’d worn it just for me.
“No problem, happy to wait,” I lied, wanting nothing more than to kiss her. Instead, I pressed my hand against her back unable to stop myself from touching and using the excuse to guide her to the car.
“Where’s Terry?” she asked, stopping in front of the black Aston Martin Vantage I’d driven.
“Had to fire him.” I pressed the fob, unlocking the door and holding it open so she could slide inside. “Figured it was easier than you breaking his heart when you turned him down.”
She laughed, shaking her head as she swung her legs into the car. The split at the side of her dress slid open, flashing a good amount of thigh before she adjusted the fabric. I didn’t even pretend not to notice, doing my best not to lick my lips as I waited until she was properly situated before closing the door and moving to the driver’s side.
“Flashy rental?” she asked, looking around the pristine interior. I wasn’t sure if expensive cars impressed her, and secretly hoped they didn’t.
“Car club.” I fastened my seatbelt. “One of our partners is an enthusiast and has a corporate membership. Means I get access to the keys of the toys whenever I need them. Figured tonight was as good of an excuse as any.”
“Especially since you fired your poor driver.” The smile edged wider on her lips.
I nodded, moving my hands to the ignition. “Exactly. Not like we could turn up to this gala in a cab or an Uber.”
“What about Nate?” She glanced at the lack of back seats before returning her eyes to me. “I’m sure the trunk of this car is five star, but I think that would be pushing the friendship a little, even for you.”
I laughed, loving how easy and quick she tossed those comebacks. She was a worthy adversary, someone who I’d absolutely love to go a few rounds with in a courtroom.
Or the bedroom.
Hell, I’d take both if that was on offer.
“Nate will meet us there. I’m sure he’ll be glad to hear of your concern.”
The engine roared to life, the V8 protesting we were still stationary as I eased away from the curb and headed to the Flatiron District.
She adjusted in her seat, her leg exposed as the fabric of her dress slipped off her thigh again. She didn’t bother to fix it, leaving her hands folded in her lap as her heeled feet stretched out in front of her.
“How’s your week been?” I asked, attempting to make conversation and distract myself from her gorgeous fucking legs.
She let out a contented sigh that ran down to my balls. “Pretty good. I’m assisting on a corporate merger. It’s different from being in a courtroom, and not my preferred branch of law, but diversity is what the partners want. They’ll also allow me to do more pro bono work if we close on some of these bigger clients. So I guess it’s good for everyone.”
I wasn’t surprised to hear she was invested in pro bono work. While most attorneys did it to fill a quota, or earn favor with the firm, I imagined she was driven by her sense of social justice. I liked that about her, and it was a quality I hadn’t seen in a while. That kind of attitude was in short supply at Locke and Collins.
“Well, corporate law is my specialty. Let me know if there’s anything I can help you with.”
Lame.
And possibly a little insulting. But the offer had been genuine and not because I thought she wasn’t capable.
“Thanks, I’ve got it covered.” She smiled, thankfully not taking offense as she lowered her voice seductively. “But I’ll keep you in mind if I have any hostile takeovers.”
