My Greatest Mistake

by T Gephart

  My cock throbbed, and I was fairly sure we weren’t talking about the law anymore. I cleared my throat, keeping my eyes on the road as we sat in traffic.

  “What about you? You wrap up your case? You must be heading back soon?” Her tone was light, conversational, lacking any emotion at the idea of me leaving.

  And why the hell did that disappoint me?

  I didn’t like emotional, clingy women, in fact, I actively avoided them. So why the lack of concern about my impending departure was bothering me, I had no idea.

  “Almost done,” I answered honestly, knowing the only reason I hadn’t wrapped it up on Friday was because I was dragging my feet. “I’ll be around a little while longer.”

  My head turned, hoping to catch her reaction, but she didn’t give me one, her face impassive as her eyes flicked to mine. “I’m sure Nate’s pleased.”

  “He is.”

  The air in the car thickened, the tension palpable between us. And while she wasn’t giving me a lot to work with, it was obvious whatever I was feeling, she was too.

  My fingers tightened around the steering wheel annoyed they had a job to do and couldn’t reach across and pull her lips onto mine. I was almost positive she wouldn’t have stopped me, and I wanted to feel how desperate that mouth was for mine.

  Fuck me and my bright ideas.

  The car behind me blasted its horn, prompting me to refocus on the road. The light had changed from red to green and we’d been sitting still for longer than the two seconds New Yorkers were willing to wait. Guess it was a blessing in a way, giving me something else to concentrate on and hopefully get rid of my hard-on before we got to the gala.

  We rode the rest of the way in a weird silence. Zara turned on the car stereo, a symphony blaring out of the speakers on a preset classical channel. She didn’t bother looking for anything else, and I had enough trouble keeping the car on the road without worrying about the goddamn sound system.

  I was relieved when we pulled up in front of The Prince George Ballroom, the entrance to the beautifully ornate 20th Century hotel lined with important people handing over their keys to valets.

  “We’re here,” I announced unnecessarily, slowing to a stop before cutting the engine.

  I wanted to touch her, to feel my hands against her skin while looking into her eyes, but I also knew there was a chance her attention could soon be diverted elsewhere. To him. It was a gamble I was willing to take, desperate to spend more time with her as I walked around to the passenger side, holding open the door and watching as Zara carefully slid out. Even the valet was mesmerized, his grin widening when he got a view of her legs.

  “There you go.” I dangled the keys between my fingers with one hand as I slipped the other around Zara’s waist. “Thanks.” My tight grin hopefully hinting that he should stop looking at my date and pay more attention to my ride.

  “My pleasure.” The guy nodded, taking the keys and handing me a ticket. Amazing how he could be talking to me and yet looking at her. “Have an enjoyable evening.”

  Honestly, as irritated as it made me, I couldn’t blame him.

  Zara was beautiful. No, it was more than just beautiful, she was breathtaking. And even with Manhattan’s elite on display, there wasn’t any woman close to how gorgeous she was.

  Ignoring that technically I had no reason to keep holding her, I left my hand on her hip as we walked through the doors. And if she had a problem with its location, she didn’t mention it, sidling in close to me as I handed over our tickets and strode inside.

  Round tables were set up, covered with red linens and white folded napkins. It wasn’t unlike any other social event/fundraiser I’d been to before except I’d never really cared who’d been my plus-one.

  “It’s so beautiful,” Zara whispered as we moved through the room, her eyes restless as she took it all in

  “No, you’re beautiful,” I whispered back, loving how she leaned into me. I wasn’t even sure she’d noticed she was doing it, her body responding to my touch, telling me she liked it. I was almost disappointed when I caught sight of Nate at one of the tables. “We’re over here.”

  Nate stood, giving us a smile as we got closer, straightening his bow tie. “About time you got here.” He gave Zara a brief hug before turning to shake my hand. “There’s a set of golf clubs that are listed in the silent action. Be a pal, Linc, and place a bid.”

  “You don’t even play golf, asshole.” I rolled my eyes, wondering if I bought him those clubs if he’d leave me alone with Zara.

  It had been my stupid idea to invite Nate, assuming it would make it seem less like a date for Zara. But since seeing her walk out of her apartment, all I could think of was being with her and only her.

  “Oh, I know I don’t play, but it will really piss off the cardiac surgeons if I win them and they don’t. I’m not above being petty.” Nate laughed as he collected three flutes of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray and handed them out. “Carlisle is at the head table, in case you were wondering.”

  Just the mention of his name sent ice through my veins.

  I hadn’t forgotten why we were there and who we were meant to see. And even though the piece of shit was somehow responsible for me meeting the most amazing woman ever, I wasn’t feeling very grateful.

  In fact, I didn’t have any good feelings when it came to Edwin Carlisle and considering I’d yet to even see him, that wasn’t a good sign.

  Zara’s head turned instinctively, her eyes tracking the guests at the main table and landing on the prick I knew to be Carlisle.

  He looked just like his editorial in Forbes—smug grin on his face with no trace of humility in his eyes. His glossy blond hair catching the light like a shampoo commercial as he laughed with what I was sure was zero sincerity.

  “That’s him?” Zara’s eyes widened, directing the question to me while clearly keeping her eyes on him.

  I’d assumed she would’ve Googled him.

  Done some kind of search, if for no other reason than not to go into the situation blind. So I wasn’t sure what to make of it that she hadn’t, and if that was a positive or a negative.

  On one hand, it showed a level of disinterest. Her commitment to getting to know the guy who supposedly she was going to marry, not very high. And while I didn’t believe some random woman in a tent had the ability to see the future, the jury was still out exactly where Zara sat on the issue.

  There was a counter argument, however. And perhaps she hadn’t searched for him, wanting the meeting—and the possible connection—to be organic. Like ours had been when she’d assumed I was him.

  “That’s him,” I confirmed, trying to keep the bite of agitation out of my tone. “We should go over and say hello before dinner starts.”

  On the list of things I wanted to do, going over and shaking that asshole’s hand ranked dead last. We hadn’t even sat at our table yet, standing around it, sipping champagne like all the other guests who were either mingling or posturing. But I was already annoyed and fighting the urge to punch the guy in the face—for no other reason than who he was—and I couldn’t see that situation improving as the night progressed.

  Nope, it was best to get it over with. And let whatever was going to happen, happen. Oh, and in case it wasn’t clear just how stupid the idea was, it was further reinforced as she glanced back over at him and the piece of shit caught her stare and smiled.

  Great.

  Fucking perfect.

  Zara

  God, he was hot.

  Eyes that could liquefy your insides and a smolder that should be illegal in all fifty states. And currently he looked so goddamn delicious I was questioning my own judgment.

  No, not Edwin Carlisle—who, other than a passing interest, I really didn’t care about—but Lincoln Archer.

  I’d tried to reason with myself, reaffirm all the reasons why doing anything with him would be a bad idea. But I was struggling with the motivation.

  And it wasn’t just becaus
e he was good-looking, although that certainly wasn’t helping my cause. But there was something else—an aura, a vibration, a magnetism—that spoke to me in a way no other attraction had.

  No, it was more than just his hot body and handsome face, and I was compelled to find out what the hell it was. Which was why in any other circumstance I’d have downloaded every public record available on Edwin Carlisle, and instead I’d spent my time researching Lincoln James Archer. Middle name totally found without very much effort.

  “Looks like he’s coming over.” Nate coughed into his hand.

  I hadn’t even noticed I’d been staring, my eyes blinking and shifting back to Lincoln. He hadn’t been looking at Edwin, his gaze intently fixed on me.

  “Well.” I did my best to keep my voice level and unemotive. “That’s why we’re here, right? And it’s probably easier if he comes to us.”

  Easier wasn’t always better, and I wasn’t exactly known for taking the easier route. But admitting that I really didn’t care to meet the man who was the catalyst for the whole grand adventure seemed unintelligent.

  Lincoln’s brow lifted, asking a question he hadn’t vocalized, and I couldn’t be sure he didn’t know. That he hadn’t seen through my casual throwaway attitude and was about to call me on my bullshit. That was not what I wanted. Especially not in front of Nate with New York’s elite as a willing audience.

  “Sure, easier.” He lingered over the word like he knew it was a lie, turning to Edwin who was making steady strides toward us.

  He was handsome in that manicured Upper East Side kind of way. Tailored suit, hair slicked back, and a smile that said, I can buy anything I want, without opening his mouth. I was positive it was arrogance that had afforded him the confidence, his eyes twinkling like he hadn’t been told “no” in a while.

  “Have we met?” he asked, ignoring Nate and Lincoln as his eyes traveled up and down my dress. He wasn’t even trying to hide he was checking me out, probably assuming I’d thank him later for his honesty. “I couldn’t help noticing you looking at me, but yours isn’t a face I’d so easily forget.”

  In my peripheral vision I saw Lincoln roll his eyes, silently mouthing something I couldn’t make out. I’d assumed he’d step forward, thrust out his hand and try to take charge of the situation like most men did, but he didn’t. Instead he stood back, cocked his head to the side and waited to see what I did next, and I couldn’t help but feel like it was some kind of test.

  I nodded, acknowledging him as I chuckled casually. “No, we haven’t met. And I was actually looking at Dr. Brown who you were talking to. I hear his work with robotics could change cardiac surgeries drastically in the next few years. Fascinating, isn’t it?”

  When I said I hadn’t downloaded everything on public record on Edwin Carlisle, I hadn’t been lying. But I wasn’t going to a gala without at least knowing who the chair of the foundation and visiting keynote speaker were, a quick study all I needed to ensure I could at least be conversational. It was something I was used to from law functions, not willing to be caught unaware and potentially snub a judge whose courtroom I might one day visit. And Dr. Brown—visiting from Oxford—was easy information to grab onto.

  Lincoln grinned, seeming to be impressed. “Riveting stuff,” he agreed.

  Edwin’s eyes widened like he couldn’t believe I hadn’t been gawking at him. Which to be fair, I had been, but I wasn’t about to admit that. Especially when he’d assume it meant something it didn’t.

  “Yes, a very worthwhile enterprise.” Edwin recovered quickly, holding out his palm. “I’m Edwin Carlisle, a pleasure to meet you.”

  It was so surreal to hear that name—one that had obviously been in the back of my mind for years—from the man it belonged to.

  He was real.

  A living, breathing man who existed outside of a fantasy, and I needed a moment just to take that in, even though I still didn’t believe he was my destiny.

  “Zara Mathews.” I gave him a polite shake, recovering quickly. “And this is Nathan Baxter and Lincoln Archer.” I gestured to the two guys who were paying more attention to our interaction than I would’ve liked.

  Each of them took a turn in shaking Edwin’s hand, Lincoln surprisingly silent during the exchange.

  Edwin didn’t waste any more time, turning his attention back to me. “Well, since I’ve had the pleasure of meeting your friends, Ms. Mathews, maybe I could introduce you to mine. I’m positive Lance would love to meet such a beautiful fan of his work.”

  Uhhhhhhh, great.

  I was being hit on by the guy I was supposed to have a life-long lasting relationship with, in front of the guy who I was actually interested in but who had no long-term prospects. No wonder I been so resistant to relationships. Clearly when it came to making smart choices, I sucked at it. That’s why casual, non-emotional flings were preferable, and sadly neither of them would be suitable for that.

  “Sure,” I heard myself say, thinking I had to at least pretend to be interested, considering I was masquerading as a fan. “But I also graduated summa cum laude from Harvard and I’m sure Dr. Brown would appreciate that more than my beautiful face. And call me, Zara.”

  Ok, so I wasn’t going to totally lose my mind and allow this man to assume because I was attractive that I wasn’t intelligent. Sure, I knew zero about robotics, cardiology, and basic science in general, but he didn’t know that. If it was one thing being an attorney taught me, it was knowing how to present a case to demonstrate your point of view. And my point of view was I wasn’t an airhead.

  Edwin laughed, my little backhanded comment not offending him. “Oh, he’s definitely going to like you.” He held out his elbow in a gesture that I wasn’t sure was still used outside of Regency novels. “Shall we?”

  Lincoln straightened, his eyes connecting with mine as his lips thinned. He wasn’t saying anything, neither encouraging me to go nor asserting his place as my date. Granted, the whole reason we were there was to meet Edwin, which we were currently doing. But I assumed he wouldn’t be so willing to let me just walk away with another guy either, which just gave me more conflicting emotions to deal with.

  Obviously, I didn’t want or need a man’s permission to do anything, nor was I the kind of girl who wanted to be fought over. That kind of drama was what Belle lived for, and what I’d been trying to avoid most of my life. But with Lincoln, I guess I secretly wanted him to be a little annoyed. Maybe even slightly jealous. Or at the very least add some wisecrack of his own before I linked my arm with some other guy who’d called me beautiful.

  “I won’t be long.” I turned to Lincoln, assuming it would prompt a response.

  His brow rose, a smile I wasn’t sure was genuine spread across his lips as he gestured to the room. “Take as long as you need.”

  And as accommodating as that sounded, it still pissed me off. For all the reasons I’d previously mentioned. Which is why I had no choice but to leave and go spend time with Edwin Carlisle, whether I wanted to or not.

  Denying Edwin’s elbow my linked hand or arm, I stepped forward in the direction of the visiting keynote speaker. He took the hint and followed, leaving Nate and Lincoln back at our table as we both strode with purpose to the main table.

  “Are you in the medical field?” he asked, his smile widening. “Because I’d assume if you were a donor, I’d have seen you at one of these events before. And I’d hate to have missed any previous opportunities to make a new friend.”

  It was smooth, I’ll give him that. And while it was obviously a pickup line, I had to admire his confidence. I imagined he’d been to a hundred or more similar events and he seemed pretty damn sure he hadn’t seen me. He was either extremely perceptive or incredibly cocky and at the moment, I didn’t really care which.

  “No, I’m a lawyer.” I saw no reason to lie. “But it’s a worthwhile cause.” Also not a lie.

  “It is,” he agreed as we got closer to the table. “But I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I’m
especially grateful you picked this one to support. You are very beautiful.”

  We pulled up short just before we reached the table’s edge, my body turning to face his. “Aren’t you even slightly concerned I’m dating one of the men I was with?” Surely he had to be even a little bit curious.

  “Are you?” His smiled didn’t drop.

  I hesitated, wondering if it would be easier just to say that I was. “No, they’re just friends.”

  And while it was technically the truth, it wasn’t really how I felt. Weird considering I didn’t know either of them very well. And yet, in such a small amount of time a strange connection had been made.

  “Good.” His hand made a move like it was going to shift to my waist, stopping and retreating before it made contact. “That’s very good.”

  With his effort to touch me thwarted, he repositioned himself at my side and cleared his throat. Dr. Brown, or Lance, as Edwin called him, was approximately fifty with feathered white hair that refused to be obedient. His dark-rimmed glasses were thick and practical as was his black and unremarkable tuxedo. His conversation with some dark-suited older guy had ended and was now looking at us with curiosity. “Was wondering where you ran off to so fast, now I can see why you left.”

  Edwin laughed, straightening his tie. “Lance, I’d like you to meet the charming Zara. She’s a big fan of your work.”

  Dr. Brown’s eyes widened like he wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly, flicking Edwin a gaze before returning back to me. “Big fan, hey? Robotic surgical systems don’t often attract fans.”

  “Well, that’s a shame.” I chose to continue perpetuating the lie. I mean, I’d come this far, why back out now? “Not even nerdy fan boys? At least one of them has to have asked for your help to defeat one of the Robot Death Battle machines. Save a life, take a life—they don’t have to be mutually exclusive.”

  Dr. Brown laughed, his head shaking. “Edwin wasn’t kidding, you are delightful. I’m Lance, and as much as it pains my soul to admit it, I don’t even have nerdy fan boys. A pleasure, Zara.” He held out his hand but instead of shaking it when I offered mine, he kissed my knuckles.