by Virna DePaul
“I'll be your garnish, so you can finish,” she says as she unzips my pants.
I stand still, curious if her flicking tongue will get me on the express train to Hardville. But nope. Nada. At best, my dick gives a lackluster twitch. I gently grab her wrists and pull her up.
“Look, thanks for the effort. My friend's little sister will be here any second, and that really kills the vibe.”
As soon as I mention Jenna, my dick swells in a way Sonya certainly didn’t inspire. What the hell? How does thinking of Jenna get me hotter than this model on her knees?
Then again, I’ve gotten hard thinking of Jenna before. Imagining her out of her prim and proper clothes. Bent over one of my prep counters, pounding into her from behind, hard and fast and good. But never just because I said her name. And never when I was getting such close attention from another woman.
I quickly shove my half-hard length back into my pants, zipper up, and cover the evidence with my apron. Then I wash my hands.
I am, after all, a professional.
Sonya frowns. “What’s so special about this girl that you’ll go to such trouble? Is she gorgeous or something?”
Is Jenna gorgeous? Not really in the traditional sense. Not like Sonya or the other women I’ve dated. Jenna’s different. Her dark hair doesn’t fall in beach waves and her legs don’t stretch as far as the Nile, but her eyes sparkle. Her lips aren’t particularly plump, but the corners twitch up with her wicked sense of humor. And her nose isn’t petite, but she scrunches it up when she’s thinking, and I’ve always found it adorable.
Sure, she had that awkward teenage phase I am forbidden to mention. I don’t blame her for wanting to forget the retainer that gave her a lisp, the Canadian tuxedo she insisted on wearing at least once a week, and the haircut from hell.
But whenever she spoke, everyone listened. With her words, she had power.
Over people then.
Over me then and now.
We’re friends. Just friends. I respect her brother Bryce, so I don’t go there. Plus, she’s not exactly my type, and honestly, I’m not even sure she likes me. She stops talking when I’m around, like I can’t follow her conversation. She finds excuses to leave. Or she brings up her law job until I’m bored to tears.
Still, any time I see her I want her to stay. I want to stay. It’s beyond anything sexual. Though, like I said, I’ve certainly fantasized about that before. But of course, I don’t say any of that to Sonya.
“She’s kind of a plain Jane.”
I feel guilty for saying it, but hell, I’m just trying to avoid drama. Sonya is hot, but she’s also kind of a loose cannon. I heard she dragged another model by her hair over another guy. Rumor has it the model only survived because she had cheap extensions. Better to be safe than sorry.
Besides, it’s not like Sonya will be in my life for very long. Maybe not even after tonight. So, what does it matter if I downplay Jenna’s attractiveness?
“You can see for yourself,” I suggest. “They'll be here soon.”
I check my watch. Ten more minutes. Ten more long, tedious, boring minutes with Sonya.
“So … shots?” Sonya says.
Ten slightly less boring minutes later (thanks to my good friend Mr. Patron), we walk out of the commercial kitchen and into my restaurant’s dining area. Small flames burn in the sleek displays that line the windows. Throughout the floor, different iron sculptures burn with fire details. It looks badass. Torch is my favorite restaurant, but it’s not quite perfect. Not quite enough. I already have ideas drafted for the next one and am lining up investors. I’ve also been taken on as a client by Owen Kiss of Kiss Talent Agency. Owen’s planning on making me the next big celebrity chef, and has already contacted food network executives about a possible new cooking show. That could lead to my own line of cookbooks. Cookware. Glassware. Linens. Hell, pretty soon, Lee Bowers merchandise could be sold in retail stores nationwide.
Part of me wonders when I’ll slow down. Maybe enjoy what I’ve already built instead of pursuing the next challenge. I beat back those thoughts by reminding myself I can’t lose momentum. Nor would I want to! I’m at the peak of my game, so why slow down now? Yet the more I throw myself into this life, the less happy I become. I keep thinking more, more, more. But I care less, less, less.
Something’s off in my life, as if my limp dick with Sonya’s mouth on it isn’t a big enough warning sign. But, hell if I know what to do about it.
However, for tonight’s dinner everything is perfect: the linens are clean and pressed, the wine glasses are shined and polished, the music playing from the speakers is elegant and engaging.
“Are you being sued?” Sonya hiccups. I turn to her, eyebrow raised. She points across the room. “Looks like you're about to be served.”
I follow her bronzed and oiled bare arm to the woman who just walked into the dining room. She wears a white-collared shirt buttoned all the way up to the top under her ultra conservative black pants suit. Simple black pumps, no jewelry, hair pulled back in a tight bun, simple makeup. To someone else, Jenna might look like a prude but when you look close, when you’re around her for any length of time, when you get used to the fact she’s sharp, and funny, and confident, and obviously has control issues? Fuck.
When I think of Jenna taking charge of me in my bedroom, wearing that suit, I get hard. Harder than when I said her name.
“You’re right. Total plain Jane,” Sonya whispers loudly.
I glare down at her. “Be nice, Sonya. She’s my best friend’s sister and it’s her birthday.”
She smiles and runs her fingers up my arm. “I’ll be good.”
God, I really want her out of here. Too late now. I pull away from her hold and walk up to Jenna.
“I see you wore your party power suit, Jenna. Maybe if we’re lucky, you’ll go wild tonight and unbutton this top button.” I lightly tap the button in question then hug her.
She stiffens slightly, and when I pull back, I see something uneasy flash across her eyes. Annoyance sweeps through me. Once again, I’m confused. We used to be so comfortable together. At one point I considered her to be as close a friend of mine as Bryce. What the hell happened? I actually asked her once. She said she didn’t know what I was talking about, and I’ll be damned if I’ll play the fool and ask again. Maybe I can serve some of that Patron and get her to loosen up a little. Be like the old Jenna I used to know.
“Where’s Bryce?”
“He and William are parking the car.”
“William?”
“My date.”
My eyes widen in surprise. Not because it’s hard to believe a man would want to date her. But because she’s never brought a date to her birthday dinners.
“I hope it’s okay I brought a date. Bryce mentioned you were bringing one, so…” She arches an eyebrow and looks over my shoulder. She then holds out her hand. “Hi, I’m Jenna.”
“Sonya. Happy birthday, Jenna!”
Sonya wraps Jenna in a big hug, swaying back and forth like she and Jenna are the best of friends and haven’t seen each other in years. Over her shoulder, Jenna’s expression is amused. She’ll tease me for this later. Our eyes meet, and I smile and shrug.
Then Bryce walks into the restaurant, followed by another man dressed in a suit. Knowing how much Jenna values a man’s intelligence, it’s likely he won the lottery jackpot for both looks and brains. Why that bugs me so much I don’t know, but I’m definitely glaring at him.
Bryce greets me with a half-hug, half-slap on the back. My mood instantly improves. Back when we were kids, he stole some fireworks from a store. I took the fall for him, and we’ve been best friends ever since. Of course, his parents hate me. They always said I was a terrible influence. But Bryce went to Stanford and is now some kind of kick ass investment banker who travels the world—he’s leaving for Japan the next day—so how bad of an influence could I have been?
“Lee, this is William, Jenna’s coworker,” Bryce explains.
“Date,” Jenna corrects with a punch to her brother’s arm. Then she smiles at William. She cuddles into his side, and his expression seems to soften as he looks down at her.
Once again, I’m tight around the collar and annoyed as hell. After all, I went to all this trouble to make her dinner. The least she could do is act appreciatively and smile at me. Come to think of it, when was the last time she smiled at me? An honest-to-goodness smile?
“William, nice to meet you,” I force myself to say.
“Great restaurant,” he says. “Huge fan.”
He’s full of shit. And he knows I’m full of shit. So damn, I was right—he’s good looking and smart. And double damn, because he’s not just smart, he’s a lawyer, like Jenna.
I pull Sonya to my side. “This is Sonya.”
I swear I’m watching a cartoon as William stutters and tries not to ogle her tits. Ogle away, buddy. I win.
Wait, win what?
Tony, my best server, interrupts as he invites us to take our seats. He runs through the specials and his suggested wine pairings while I try to figure out why I feel so competitive with Jenna’s date. Especially considering Sonya’s on my arm.
Jenna talks about important cases she's working on at her firm, and Sonya talks about a new lip plumper guaranteed to make her lips look two times larger. As she goes on and on, I’m thinking about something else.
Jenna has nice lips.
They curve up at the sides, making her look like she's always smirking. She probably is, since she’s brilliant and she knows it. She certainly doesn't tolerate bullshit, especially meaningless bullshit like the difference between a temporary and long-term lip plumper. And at the top, Jenna's lips have the most perfect Cupid’s bow. Her red wine has stained them the most delicious, kissable, bite-able shade of burgundy.
“Lee, what are you staring at?” Jenna glares at me from across the table.
Shit. She caught me. “I was just wondering what shade of Chapstick you've graced us with tonight.”
Bryce drags a hand over his face. “Tony, some wine,” he calls.
“It's called 'College Grad' or 'Successful Boss Bitch'.” Jenna turns to face my date. “Sonya, have you heard of either of those?”
Sonya puts a perfectly manicured finger to her chin and actually ponders the question. “Is that from the Spring 2017 line?”
Jenna
Whenever I remember my thirtieth birthday, I will remember one thing: pain.
Pain from pinching my leg constantly. Pain from biting my tongue. Pain from my cheeks forcing smile after smile. And the greatest part?
We’re only halfway through dinner.
I wave over Tony, my life saver, for another glass of wine.
“Having fun?” he whispers as he pours.
“Tony, you’ve known me for how long?”
“Three years, ma’am.”
“So, do I look like I’m having fun?”
Tony smiles and tips the bottle to add more wine to my glass. Bryce eyes me with a hint of judgment.
“Tony’s hand slipped,” I say.
“My hand slipped, sir,” Tony informs Bryce, before giving me a quick wink and returning to the kitchen. Best in the goddamn city.
When Bryce told me Lee was going to bring a date, I almost skipped this birthday dinner. But then I convinced myself that no, there’s no possible way this could be worse than I imagined.
I’d been so wrong.
Even now, if I can think of some reason to escape without it being awkward, I will. I’m dying for work to call in with an immediate order to return to the office, no questions asked. But William would ruin that plan. He’d call my bluff since he works at the same office. Rookie mistake bringing a coworker I’ve only been on two dates with. Rookie mistake.
I brought him because once I knew Lee was bringing a date, I had to bring someone. And he’s easy on the eyes. Tall, handsome, sharp dresser. He’s so smart, too. If I felt anything toward him or if he held my attention with the boring story he’s telling right now, I wouldn’t care that Sonya is rubbing Lee’s arm. I wouldn’t have to pretend the way he smiles at her is not bothering me.
I’m not jealous. That’s not it. At least I don’t think it is. It’s just that I think he can do better. I mean, look at Torch. The fire sculptures are stunning, and the food is out of this world. Or rather, it used to be. The appetizer Tony served us lacked something. It lacked Lee’s… daring.
Lee leaps before looking, and that fiery spirit creates such unique, daring dishes. But lately, it seems his fire is reserved exclusively for his playthings. Beautiful, dull playthings, like Sonya. He seems happy though, which just emphasizes how little I understand him anymore.
We used to be so close but with each day that passes, he goes more his way, and I go mine. It’s probably for the best. I’ve stepped back. These days, I focus more on my career and my food blog, not on Lee. I can’t deny, however, that some days, it sneaks up on me how very much I miss him. Giving myself a mental shake, I reach for the wine glass that already needs yet another refill.
“Are you planning on emptying my wine cellar, Jenna?” Lee asks.
Oh, so he remembers I’m here?
“Lee, it’s her birthday!” Sonya laughs as she takes her own drink. “Plus, she’s an adult.”
“Yeah, Lee.” I point my wine glass at him. “I’m an adult. Not the little girl you knew.”
“I didn’t mean–”
“And William knows that. Don’t you, William?”
I turn to William and notice the difference between his eyes and Lee’s. William’s are grey and calm and safe. Lee’s are green and flashing and dangerous.
Which is exactly why I’m going to remember only pain for my birthday. Because no matter how much I know I should, I can’t seem to let those dangerous eyes go. I can’t get that fire out of my mind.
And for a moment—just like other moments I’ve experienced before I brush them away—I want to be burned. By Lee.
“This is going great,” Bryce chirps as everyone at the table sits in awkward silence and Lee and I glare at each other. “Just great.”
Lee
I don’t understand why Jenna is acting so cold. Or drinking so much.
We pretty much fight all the time now. When we see each other, that is, which isn’t often anymore. I didn’t want us to grow apart. That’s all her decision. I can only assume it’s because she’s too good for me now. Too smart. Too successful. I’m just a joke to her.
“Dessert, sir?”
Thankfully, Tony breaks the tension Jenna is giving off loud and clear.
“We have a stupendous flourless chocolate cake to offer. I believe it’s the birthday girl’s favorite.”
“It looks like Lee already has his dessert,” Jenna mutters just loud enough for me to hear.
What is her problem?
“We’ll all have dessert, Tony,” Bryce says. “And coffees, please. Strong coffee.”
Bryce gives both me and Jenna a pointed look with that brotherly message to knock it off. Hey, it’s her, not me. I mean, those tequila shots hit me pretty hard, but it’s just tequila.
“Decaffeinated tea for me,” William says, adjusting his glasses. “I have court at eight tomorrow.”
“Oh, no,” Sonya gasps. “What did you do?”
Bryce and Jenna grin at each other, making me cringe. Fuck, Sonya.
“No, no,” William says. “I am a lawyer. Remember, I told that story about my most recent case?”
No one listened to that, William.
“Oh!” Sonya giggles. “Right. Well, good. Cause my roommate has to go to court for drug possession. Terrible.”
“William,” I say, “how are you liking your Cabernet Sauvignon?”
He takes a sip and mulls it over.
“Quite good. From Argentina I’d guess. Maybe a 2014 or 2013. Rainfall was significant those years if I remember correctly.”
From across the table, Jenna gives me one of her
classic smirks, because she knows he’s right. Exactly right. I’d tried to show her date isn’t perfect either, but he may know wines even better than I do. Shit.
“Sonya is walking for Tom Ford at Paris fashion week this year,” I say. “And after that she has a spread in Italian Vogue lined up. Isn't that right, babe?”
Sonya nods.
“You're amazing,” I whisper, just loud enough for Jenna to hear me across the table.
Then I pull Sonya in for a kiss. I make sure to lick my lips after. More importantly, I make sure Jenna sees me lick my lips. Then Jenna reaches for more wine and downs the glass. She scoots her chair closer to her date and drapes her arm around his shoulders.
“William is preparing to run for District Attorney next year, aren't you, William?” She doesn't wait for him to reply. “Some very important people want him to run for Senate eventually. Tell them, William.”
“A lot of very important people are very interested in me running for Senate eventually,” he recites like a robot.
Jenna grabs his chin and twists his face around to smash her lips against his. One of her hands cups his cheek and the other intertwines with his hair at the nape of his neck. She only pulls away from the kiss when Tony brings another glass of wine.
“This is going to be fun,” Bryce mumbles as he orders himself another drink as well.
“So, William?” I swirl the ice cube in my whiskey glass and run my fingers up and down Sonya's arm. “Where did you take Jenna on her first date?”
Jenna’s gaze is the equivalent of icy daggers, and I grin at her as innocently as I can.
William clears his throat and speaks in such a monotone I bet there's gears and oil inside that suit instead of flesh and blood. “We went to an exhibit about the history of tax law in the 1800s.”
“Thrilling.” I grab Sonya's hand and bring it to my lips. “Sonya, where did I take you on our first date?”
I flick my eyes to Jenna.
“Lee took me on a private jet to Aruba to taste the sugar cane he uses in his restaurant. We ended up laying naked on the beach all day long.”
