by T Gephart
It was cute in that non-threatening way, and I wasn’t the only one who could be accused of being delightful. He obviously had a good sense of humor and I was glad he wasn’t a weirdo I was going to have to pretend to like.
“Excuse me, Dr. Brown, there’s someone you need to meet before we sit down for dinner.” An impeccably dressed brunette interrupted us. “So sorry, Edwin, I’m going to have to steal him for a moment.” She smiled at him, her eyes darting to me but didn’t offer any acknowledgement.
“Of course, Delia. Lance, I’ll be sure to keep Zara entertained until you can rejoin us.”
Wait, what?
DELIA?
My eyes narrowed as I discounted how much of a coincidence it could be that Madame Delia had predicted my great love affair with Edwin Carlisle, and here we all were, together like a band reunion.
And with the additional information, the mental calculation of the years between our meetings, it was obvious that it wasn’t as random as it sounded.
Delia—who’d looked like she spent way too much time in a chair getting lip fillers—looked remarkably similar to the Madame Delia Belle and I had met on Coney Island. Sure, she was older—weren’t we all—but even without the cheap knock-off turban and low mood lighting, it was clear they were one in the same.
The flash of recognition was mine, and mine alone as Delia—AKA Madame Delia—led Dr. Brown away to a group of men who looked rich and important. Instead I was left alone with Edwin, trying to work out the connection.
“Is that Dr. Brown’s assistant?” I asked, noticing she hadn’t been on the list of organizers when I did my brief but informative web investigation.
“Delia?” Edwin chuckled. “God, no. She’s my sister-in-law.”
Oh, really? Well, shit just got more interesting. “Oh?” I threw out casually, not trying to sound too interested.
“Yeah, my older brother Harold—I know, our names are terrible—and I are both representing the family here tonight. And Delia is so used to playing hostess, she finds it hard to switch off. She couldn’t be any more perfect for Hal, loves working a crowd and they’ve known each other since college. Anyway, she probably wants to show Lance off to someone important.” His smile grew wider. “And I appreciate the chance to get to know you a little better while we’re alone.”
Well that was just fucking great.
Not only was I right about Madame Delia being a fraud and full of shit all those years ago, but she picked the name of the one guy who I’d probably never meet. Her elitist future brother-in-law who was probably sleeping with vapid rich girls. And even though I’d known—now confirmed—that her prediction about my love life was a fabrication of the highest order, I was still unreasonably angry.
Fuck Madame Delia.
“Zara?” Edwin moved closer, his hand brushing my arm. And from the look on his face, I couldn’t be sure that was the first time he’d said my name. “You okay?”
“Sorry.” I shook my head, giving him a rehearsed smile. “She just looked like someone I knew a while ago. I was mentally trying to place her.”
Oh, I’d placed her alright. I knew exactly where, when, and how, with such detailed accuracy I could even remember the shade of candy pink lipstick she’d been wearing. But I still hadn’t decided how I was going to play it, and if confronting her was going to be as satisfying as it felt in my head. I also didn’t want to look like a complete crazy person, which there was definitely a danger of. That wasn’t taking into account Lincoln who was still waiting for me at our table.
Could my personal life get any more complicated?
“You know Delia?” Edwin raised his brow. “Why don’t you sit with me as my guest, and I’ll do a proper introduction while we’re having dinner.”
“No, I couldn’t do that.” I laughed, the idea of being his plus-one so hilarious I was positive I hadn’t heard him right. “I’m here with friends. Ditching them would be very rude.”
“But neither is your boyfriend, correct?” The emphasis on the word not missed. “Because surely they wouldn’t have a problem with you meeting new people, making new friends.”
I glanced over at the two men I’d walked in with, not having spent nearly enough time with them as I would have liked. Lincoln’s eyes were on me, the expression on his face unreadable as I looked for a sign.
“Sure, maybe I’ll stay for a little while,” I agreed, deciding that I could at the very least give Madame Delia a piece of my mind. “I’ll just go let them know.”
Edwin grinned, probably so accustomed to getting his own way he wasn’t even surprised. And since he didn’t seem concerned about whether it would upset the seating configurations, I tried to go with it too. But deep down it ate at me, and not just because I wasn’t with Lincoln and Nate.
People with money often did what they liked without regarding the consequences, so while I was sure there was an event planner who was going to need a Xanax, Edwin wouldn’t care. Which is why no matter how charming he turned out to be, he’d never be the soulmate I’d been promised.
No, I needed someone who cared about people less fortunate than themselves. Who worked to make sure pensions were honored when companies were dismantled. Who negotiated the busy schedule of an ER doctor whenever he was in town even though his own schedule was probably a nightmare. And who was kind and conversational to wait staff in small coffee shops.
Shit.
Edwin Carlisle didn’t stand a chance, because the only man I really wanted was the man I’d walked in with.
The guy I’d been infatuated with since the moment I’d laid eyes on him.
And there was no mistake as to what his name was.
I wanted Lincoln Archer.
Lincoln
“What do you think they’re talking about?” The words were directed at Nate even though I hadn’t taken my eyes off Zara. She’d glanced my way a few times, and I had a hunch I knew where it was going.
He—the cocksucker—was going to invite her to be his guest, because that was what men like him did. Even if he’d arrived with someone else, he’d find an excuse to have her whisked away by an assistant and Zara seated in her place. I’d seen it a million times, married men trading their wives for mistresses, players juggling different girlfriends like no one’s feelings got hurt. And it annoyed the hell out of me and not just because I wanted Zara for myself.
She deserved more than that, more than the cheap pseudo emotions a man like Carlisle could give her. And even though I was aware I knew nothing about him other than what I’d read, there wasn’t a litigator on earth who could convince me he was good enough for her. Hell, I was positive I wasn’t good enough for her, but I wasn’t stupid enough to get hung up on the technicality.
She was gorgeous, and smart, and funny, and so many other things the list became too endless to count. And even though I knew it wasn’t practical, I wanted her more than to win my next case. Which was saying a lot since work had pretty much been my life.
Had I told her how beautiful she’d looked? How that dress curled around her body like it had been designed only for her? Why hadn’t I just kissed her when I’d gotten her alone in that car, told her the real reason I hadn’t wanted a driver was because I didn’t want to share her the whole night. I’d wanted to reach over and take her lips, to stop playing the stupid game we’d somehow found ourselves in. But there was a tiny part of me that didn’t trust myself. That knew once I’d kissed her again—really kissed her, with no misunderstandings between us—I’d have a hard time walking away. And I wasn’t sure how she’d feel about that.
Fuuuuuuuuck, it had been so long since I’d really cared about a woman, I wasn’t even sure how it was supposed to feel. Was I supposed to be so consumed by her? Obsessed? Want to go and rip off the fucking asshole’s arms she was talking to because he looked like he wanted to touch her?
“Why are you even asking me if you don’t care enough to listen?” Nate chuckled as he tossed back some more champagne. “Or was the
question for yourself?”
“Sorry.” I shook my thoughts loose, not liking what was going on in my head. “What did you say?”
“I said, he was probably boring her to death with talk of his flashy sports car and yacht. Isn’t that what you accused men like him of doing? Or are you now doubting your own defense?”
I hated when Nate was observant, his retort earning a side-eye and an under-my-breath “Fuck you.”
He laughed, handing off his empty champagne flute to a nearby waiter and taking mine from my hand. “Listen, aren’t we here for her to meet this guy? I mean, this was your idea, right? Surely you have a strategy? Because counselor, it’s unlike you to go into anything unprepared.”
And he was right.
While it always seemed like I played fast and loose, I didn’t usually go into a situation without having calculated the outcome. It was what made me a good lawyer, the ability to think on my feet while still controlling the narrative. But I was flying blind with this one, doubting I was doing anything right as everything I knew seemed to be called into question. What the hell was I even doing waiting around for another guy to make a move on the woman I was interested in? Had I left my balls in Boston?
“She’s too smart to fall for his bullshit.” I wasn’t sure if I was trying to convince him or myself. “Ten minutes with him and she’s going to tell us she’s ready to leave.”
“Not before the main course,” Nate scoffed. “Did you see the menu and who the chef was? Gabriele Matisse is a gastronomic genius, and there’s a six-month wait at his restaurant.”
“You don’t need us to hold your hand, Nate.” I rolled my eyes. “If you get lonely you can get Terry to come sit with you and listen to your menu critique, I’m paying him double tonight.” While I hadn’t needed him to drive me, I made sure Nate didn’t have to worry about dealing with a cab. And since it was a Saturday night he’d have probably preferred to spend it with his friends and/or family, I wanted to make sitting around waiting for a call worth his while.
“He’d probably be better company,” Nate sighed. “Less moody.”
I flipped him off—discreetly of course because I wasn’t totally uncouth—when I noticed Zara was on her way back. “Finally.” The grin spread across my face. “I knew she’d see through his bullshit.”
Nate chugged what was left of my champagne and gave me a thumbs up.
“So?” I asked as Zara stopped just inches from me, the urge to touch her too overwhelming as I rested my hand on her hip. “Was he everything you imagined? Belle is going to be so pissed I got to hear all about it before her.”
Her hand rested on my chest as she smiled back at me. “You know her so well. I’m surprised she hasn’t texted you for updates. You know she saved your number to her phone, apparently you’re her new favorite personal shopper.”
“Bring the woman creamer one time and she automatically typecasts you.” I pretended to look hurt as my hand clasped the one she had on my chest. “And I thought only defense lawyers were so ruthless.”
Honestly, I didn’t care what her sister asked me to bring them. If it gave me an excuse to see Zara, I’d happily play delivery boy.
Zara looked at where our hands were, promptly moving hers as she glanced over her shoulder at Carlisle. “Actually, Edwin invited me to sit at his table.”
“Did he?” Cue my lack of fucking surprise. “Didn’t he bring a date?”
Something flashed behind those beautiful eyes like she hadn’t considered the possibility. And while she shook her head, she didn’t seem sure. “No, I believe he came alone.”
“You believe or you know?” I asked, knowing she wasn’t that naïve. “Did you ask him if he was alone? Or did you assume he was because there wasn’t a woman hanging off him at that particular time?”
My words had a bite, sounding harsher than I’d meant to.
“I wasn’t aware this was a cross examination.” She kicked up her chin, unwilling to be intimidated. “Or that it was any of your business.”
“It’s not.” I peeled my hand off her hip, annoyed I was literally driving her into that piece of shit’s arms. “I just,” hoped you’d choose me, “don’t want you to get hurt. I brought you here and I feel responsible.”
It was so not what I wanted to say, not even close to what I was feeling. But Nate was giving me side-eye and Carlisle was watching us like I might scuff the paint on his new ride and Zara. . . well, I had no idea what was going on in her beautiful head.
Did she want to go to him?
Had I been wrong?
Did she spend five minutes with that douchebag and decide that he really was what she’d been looking for. That she didn’t want to waste a perfectly good evening with someone like me?
“You’re not responsible, Lincoln. Free will, remember?” she argued, like that would somehow make me less accountable when that asshole slept with her and then promptly forgot her. Or worse, if he broke her heart.
“Anyway.” She glanced over her shoulder again before her eyes returned to me. “I just wanted to let you know so you didn’t think I was ditching you. I promise I’ll be back by dessert.”
My throat felt dry, speechless for the first time in possibly forever. But showing vulnerability wasn’t something that was easy for me, and I was incredibly out of practice.
“No.” I grabbed her hand as she turned to leave, her eyes widening as I pulled her forward, my growl surprising us both. “Don’t leave.”
“Um, Linc, easy with that hand, buddy,” Nate warned, his head tipping to my tight grasp around her wrist. Nate had to know I’d never do anything to hurt Zara—or any other woman for that matter—but he wasn’t going to let me manhandle her on his watch either.
My fingers loosened, gently grazing her skin as they maintained contact. “Stay with me, Zara. Please. Don’t go to him.”
I hated the way the words sounded and the weakness they represented. But I also wasn’t willing to let her just walk away either. Not without putting up a fight.
“You want me to stay?” Her voice softened like she hadn’t been sure it’s what I’d been desperate for since the moment I’d laid eyes on her in that ER. “But I thought we were here—”
“Fuck why we’re here, Zara,” I cursed, moving closer and brushing the hair off her shoulder. “I’m not interested in anything other than you right now.”
And without asking her whether she wanted me to or not, I kissed her. My hand finding her jaw and pulling her close as I took her mouth in full view of the guy she was apparently leaving me to sit with. I tasted her lips, feeling them move under mine as she answered with a kiss of her own, her hand hitting my chest as she fisted my shirt.
I didn’t care how it looked, or that we had an audience, or what anyone might say. My lips had been dying to be on hers all night and I wasn’t willing to waste another second without the pleasure.
Her body softened against mine, her tits pressing against my chest as I wrapped an arm around her and gently pulled her closer. I loved the way she fit, how natural it felt to have her against me like that, and how much I wanted more of it.
She whimpered, her mouth opening wider as my tongue slid in. I needed more contact, to feel more of her against me. “Zara.” Her name breathed out between kisses. “Want you.”
Nate cleared his throat, reminding us we weren’t alone like I’d forgotten where we were.
I hadn’t.
I just no longer cared.
Zara pulled away first, my mouth chasing hers, unwilling to release it so soon. Not since it had taken me so long to make it happen, and not when there was the slight possibility it might not happen again.
“Lincoln.” She sucked in a breath, taking a small step back. “Did you just kiss me so I wouldn’t go sit with Edwin?”
“No,” I answered, because there wasn’t a chance I was going to let that asshole take the credit. “I kissed you because I couldn’t stand another second not kissing you. Because I’ve wanted to kiss you a
gain since the first time. And even though I’ve done it just now, it hasn’t lessened the urge.”
There was something about her that made me more honest than I wanted to be, that fought against my instinct to only show her the side most everyone knew. But Nate was right, if I’d wanted to keep lying to her, I’d have done it that first night.
Her fingers traced her lips, the ghost of the kiss we’d just shared still fresh. “We need to talk.”
“Fine,” I agreed, willing to do whatever she wanted to do as long as it involved her being with me. “Why don’t we step out into the hall where we can have some privacy. Or do you want to leave, and we can chat in the car?”
I knew what my preference was, and the hall wasn’t it. But despite attacking her mouth without warning, I wasn’t a total Neanderthal. So I was giving her the choice, hoping she was having similar feelings.
“Hall.”
Ugh, okay fine. “After you.” I waved to the exit, ignoring Nate and Edwin who were both watching us intently. And funnily enough I didn’t care what either of them was thinking.
Zara kicked up her chin, as she turned toward the door. I didn’t waste any time following her, matching her strides with my own as we both left the ballroom together.
Her eyes darted left and right, looking for a pocket of privacy. The hall hadn’t been the oasis of seclusion we’d hoped, people milling around as donors were ushered inside and volunteers smiled brightly in an effort to offer assistance.
“Over here.” Our shoes echoed off the intricate tiled floor. “There’s a bridal suite.”
It might not have been my first function at the Prince George Ballroom, but it was the first time I’d hoped the adjacent rooms were unlocked. I assumed they’d kept them ready in case their paid guests needed some privacy or a moment to collect themselves before a speech. And if I happened to be wrong, I was leading her to the loading dock.
Success, the door gave way as I yanked on the handle, the brightly lit room welcoming us as I closed and locked the door behind us.
