Vote Then Read: Volume I

by Carly Phillips

  He sits on the bed next to me as my body eases onto the mattress. Reaching forward, he pushes my hair back away from my face. If I knew better, I wouldn’t have allowed him inside my room. The way he’s looking at me, the feel of his skin touching mine—it’s all too dangerous for my heart, for my body in such a vulnerable state. He leans down and kisses my cheek and I let him because I like him near, even more this close. I shouldn’t, but I do. How can I not? I’ve always been attracted to this man, to Danny. My Danny. Then, he whispers, “For the record, I remember everything about you.”

  I’m tired. My eyes close on their own as the dream world starts sweeping me away, but I manage to say, “You forgot me, Danny. You forgot me.”

  8

  DANNY

  With my back against the door, I remain for a few minutes. A housekeeper eyes me as she walks down the hall. When she passes, she greets me, “Good evening, Sir.”

  “Good evening,” I reply, pushing off and walking away from Reese’s room reluctantly. I want to stay. I want to do much more than stay, but my fate was sealed with her last cocktail. Despite her state, she knew how to hit me hard, hit me when I couldn’t argue back.

  “You forgot me” plays on a loop through my mind as I trudge down the stairs back to the bar. I was dropped from the high I was riding as soon as she muttered those three words, affecting her enough for her to repeat them as she fell asleep. When I reach the first floor, I swipe my hands through my hair before I turn the corner. Mark and Vittori are standing near the entrance talking when I join them.

  Vittori gives me a look like we’re in on some secret together. He says, “You’ve been gone a while. Did you get Ms. Carmichael in bed?”

  What? “Excuse me?”

  “She was tired. I take it you made sure she made it back to her room?”

  “Yes, don’t worry,” I say, shorter than I should be with him considering he’s my new boss. I’m still thrown off from being with Reese upstairs, but take a deep breath and exhale, trying to find the balance I had prior to seeing her this morning. “She’s sound asleep.” Vittori looks over the moon from this news. Mark is glaring at me. I bypass him and focus on the one practically squealing in delight. Vittori asks, “I take it she has your number if she needs anything?”

  “She does,” I respond, finding him easy to please.

  Mark’s stare is icy at best. I’ll thaw him out tomorrow by reminding him nothing happened.

  Mark replies, “Hopefully she’ll get a good night’s rest and be ready for the flight home tomorrow. If there’s anything I can do during the rest of your stay, you have my card. Feel free to call me.” He shakes Vittori’s hand and wishes him a good night.

  Vittori winks at me and heads for the elevator after saying goodbye. When Mark and I walk outside, he stops and asks, “Be straight with me. You didn’t fuck her, did you?”

  While feigning offense, I remember the many times I did fuck her. But since he’s acting like an ass and referring to tonight, I respond sarcastically, “Nope. She fell asleep before I could.”

  “Are you messing with me? You better be fucking with me.”

  Hitting him on the chest, I laugh. “Calm down. I didn’t make any moves on her. When she wakes up in the morning, she will only remember what a perfect gentleman I was… If she remembers anything at all.”

  His stance eases and he smiles. Well, as much as Mark can manage to smile, which isn’t much. “She is hot.”

  I lower my defenses. She’s not mine to feel possessive over any longer. “She is.”

  “She could have modeled.”

  “Could have?”

  “She’s too old to be starting out in this business now.”

  “I can’t have this conversation.” Not about her. Not tonight. The lightness that we had is gone. “I need to get home. I’m too tired.”

  By the way his eyes are squinting, has one cheek lifted, and his eyebrows tilting downward, he’s clearly baffled. So am I. By my own behavior. That’s why I need to go. A cab pulls up and I rush for it, needing to get out of here before I tell secrets that shouldn’t be shared. “We’ll talk soon.”

  “Don’t forget Vargo.”

  “I won’t,” I reply and slam the door shut with me tucked inside. I give the driver directions to my place and lean my head back. Staring outside the window, the lights of businesses flash by until we hit the freeway. The dark is wanted. Needed in fact. I feel exposed. My heart is on my fucking sleeve and I don’t want anyone to witness it.

  At home, I empty my pockets, dumping everything on the kitchen counter and reach for a glass. I would bother with the shot glass if someone else was here, but since I’m alone, I don’t lie to myself.

  With half a glass of bourbon in hand, I make my way into the bedroom and strip down after a few hard swigs of the amber liquid. The sheets are cold. I fucking hate cold sheets. I climb in anyway since I have no choice but to warm them up myself. Grabbing the remote, I open the curtains. There’s no view from here, but staring at the few stars I can see in the sky is better than drinking in the dark. The stars are better company than my thoughts tonight.

  The glass balances on my chest as I lie there. I lift to take a sip and fall back, letting the alcohol heat my throat and lower into my chest. Closing my eyes, I remember too much… too much…

  My body pins her against the wall. Her door is the next obstacle on this ride home from the party. I just want her. I’ve wanted her for so long. I bend forward and kiss Reese. Her hands tighten on my shoulders, pulling me closer. She tilts her head back and says, “My roommate is gone.”

  This is it. Months of buildup have led us here. I feel like I’m about to explode. “God, I want you so much.”

  “Me too.” She spins around and sticks her key in the lock. The room is dark, but we know it by heart. We’ve fumbled our way around this dorm room many times while making out. But tonight’s the night. I don’t want fumbling. I want it to be perfect for her, and since my roommate is scoring with a Tri-Delt, her room is our only option.

  She leads me to her twin-sized bed. Our breathing can be heard to a distracting level. “Should we put some music on?”

  “Sure.” She walks to her nightstand and starts a song.

  My head tilts to the side. “Is this a boy band?”

  “Yeah. I like this song.”

  “I can’t have sex with you the first time while they’re singing about lollipops and puppy love.” I look down. “I’m already going soft listening to them.”

  She laughs. “How about classical?”

  “Okay, but no Beethoven. No man can live up to those crescendos.”

  “I didn’t know you knew so much about music.”

  “A little. Not much.”

  “Okay,” she asks, “how about Maroon 5?”

  “No. I don’t want to compete with Adam Levine.”

  “Amy Winehouse?”

  “Too depressing.”

  “Barry White?”

  “You have Barry White?”

  She shakes her head. “No, but I heard it’s supposed to be sexy music.”

  Taking her hand I tug her back to bed. She lands next to me, all smiles and smelling beautiful. “We don’t need music. We’ll make our own.”

  She kisses my cheek and then sits up to take her shirt off. The room goes quiet again while I watch her. I’ve seen her breasts many times, felt them, kissed them, but knowing this is only the beginning and not the end changes everything. Lifting up on my elbows, I angle to get a better view.

  Her snow boots, socks, and jeans come off next. I take the cue and take off my shirt and jeans after flipping off my boots and socks. She doesn’t bother keeping her underwear on, so I don’t either. She settles back down, but this time on top of me.

  My hands roam her sides. She’s little compared to me. Lean, but has great curves. I turn over, wanting her underneath me the first time. We start kissing and our bodies move against each other until my knee slips between her legs. She’s wet and fu
cking my leg. Fuck. I readjust, needing to be inside her.

  Reaching over, I grab a condom from my jeans pocket. She slides up and down my thigh, her breathing erratic until her eyes are squeezed closed and her mouth opens. “Danny, please. I need you.”

  “I’m not gonna last.”

  “Neither will I,” she whispers.

  When she spreads wider, I angle, then reposition and put the condom on. I cover her mouth with mine again, my hips pressing between her legs. Just the feel of her sends waves of sexual cravings racing through my body. Fuck. I’ve got to calm down.

  Her hand touches my cheek and she says, “Go slow, at first. Okay?”

  I nod, words seeming impossible. Kissing her again, I slowly push into her welcoming heat.

  My thoughts are floating, my body engulfed by the most amazing feeling. I want to tell her I love her, but I’m aware enough to know now’s not the time. I pull back and push in again. Opening my eyes, I see her pretty face, flush with emotion. She says, “It’s better than I thought.”

  I stop. “Better than you thought? Ummm.”

  Laughing, she corrects, “No. No. That’s not what I meant. I just always knew it would be amazing with you. It’s even better than amazing.” I relax and start moving again. She adds, “Like so much better. God, that feels so good. You feel so good.”

  “You do too. You feel incredible.” I kiss her neck. “This makes you mine.”

  “I was always yours, Danny.”

  …I’m not sure what time I finish the bourbon or what time I finally fall asleep, but I wake up when the sun rises. Hard. Uncomfortably hard. I was always yours, Danny. Except she wasn’t. She hasn’t been mine for over ten fucking years. Closing the curtains, I try to go back to bed, not bothering to check the time, and ignoring the urge I have to masturbate to the memory of the first time we had sex.

  Fuck it!

  I take care of business and go back to bed.

  9:37 stares back at me from the clock on my nightstand. Eleven. I told Reese I’d pick her up at eleven. While I lie there a minute longer, last night weighs down on me. My eyes burn, my body heavy. A few more hours of sleep would help, but I won’t miss this chance to spend some time with her. Too many questions still remain unanswered.

  How is she still single?

  Why pick me for this job?

  Does she have a boyfriend?

  How attached to New York is she?

  How does she look that fucking incredible?

  And, the one question that has burned inside me for over a decade. The one question I was too damaged to confront her about before… before now.

  Why didn’t she show up?

  I get in the shower, letting the water run down over my head. With my face under the spray I realize I’ve thought more about her, about our past in the last twenty-four hours than I have since I saw her back in Nebraska.

  We were different people back then. Clearly I didn’t know her at all. In this life, the one I created after her, I don’t utter her name. I don’t dwell on our history. I don’t look at the photos I’ve got in that Nike shoebox buried in the back of my closet. She doesn’t exist in my life, in this world that was born from our breakup.

  But now I have to. She’s come back into my life demanding me to see her because of this campaign, to smell her, to think about her, to touch her because I can’t be that close to her and not do any of those things.

  The scale feels suspiciously balanced in her favor. How long was she planning this reintroduction into my life? And if she plotted this all along, why was she so distant during the meeting? Why are we pretending we don’t know each other—for her benefit, mine, or both?

  She had time to prepare, to plan for this reunion, but I got no heads-up or warning at all. What does she really want from me? What does she hope to gain beyond using my name and reputation I’ve built in this industry?

  I’m so fucking confused. Maybe I don’t want to play this game. Or, maybe it’s time I take the control back. Maybe I’ll start making demands of my own.

  9

  Danny

  Fuck, she looks hot!

  Damn, look at her.

  I push off the Jeep and go to her. Her eyes are down as she pulls her suitcase behind her. When they lift up to meet mine, a small smile, one that reveals more than she probably wants appears. That girl likes what she sees and I like that she likes it… that she likes me, even if it is just the package she likes—my package.

  Chuckling when I reach her, she asks, “What are you laughing about?”

  “You don’t even want to know.” I cover her hand over the handle of her suitcase and don’t move.

  Concern colors her eyes as she looks into mine. “What?”

  I lean forward and kiss her cheek. She doesn’t see me close my eyes, or notice that I stay longer than I should. She stands there with my forehead touching her temple. When I straighten back up, I confess, “It’s good to see you.”

  A softer side seeps into her tone, the emotion reaching her eyes. “It’s good to see you too.” She starts to move again, but when I don’t budge, she stops. Her voice is softer this time. “Danny?”

  “Say it again.”

  “It’s good to see you?”

  “No.”

  “Danny?”

  I don’t know what’s come over me… or maybe I’m not ready to admit what has. “Yes. One more time.”

  “Danny,” she says with a smirk.

  “I missed hearing you say it.”

  She rocks back. “You’re being silly.”

  “I’m being serious, Reese.”

  A glance in my direction reveals my charms are working on her. When her cheeks pink, I know they are. The ridiculous part is I’m being honest with her. I’ll play it safe and keep under the guise of flirting to protect the innocent—Reese.

  She slips her hand out from under mine and nods toward the Jeep. “We should go.” When she looks back at me, she looks like she’s up to no good. When she adds, “Danny,” I know she is.

  I walk to the vehicle and watch her climb in as I load her suitcase into the back. When I get in, she says, “Did you put the top on for me?”

  “I sure did.” I start the engine and we pull away from the hotel.

  Leaning her head back, she watches me. I see her in my peripheral, and I can feel her gaze on me. “Where are you taking me for lunch?”

  “The beach.”

  She sits up. “The beach? Are you serious?”

  “I am,” I say, looking over and catching her wide grin.

  The rest of the ride is filled with talk of the bad traffic, the LA scene, and apparently there are too many tanned people in her opinion. I volley back that Manhattan has too many gray days. She rests her case by saying, “Maybe it’s good we live where we live then.”

  “Ah, don’t judge us so fast. If I got a chance to show you the real LA, I bet you’d enjoy the city more.”

  “What if I gave you that chance?”

  “When you say stuff like that I’m not sure how to reply.”

  “It’s better if you don’t. Sometimes I speak before thinking.”

  “That’s your heart speaking for you.”

  “When you say stuff like that I’m not sure how to reply.” She rests her head on her hand, elbow firmly set on the door. After exhaling a deep breath, she says, “We’re going to be working together. I think we should keep it as easy as we can.”

  “Easy? I don’t believe anything worth having comes easy. My mission is to make you miss me by the time you land in New York.” She stares, her dark-pink lips parted, her blues in awe as she sits next to me. I pull into the beach lot and put the car in park. “You hungry?”

  “Danny,” she starts.

  Here it comes…

  “We need to talk.”

  I step out of the Jeep, but stand there. “That’s why we’re here.”

  The door shuts and I walk around and help her out. She walks toward the sand, stops, takes off her shoes and
carries them in her hand. I grab the box lunches, the blanket, and two bottles of water, and follow her toward the water. While she stands letting the water coat her feet, I set up and sit down.

  She stands there a minute longer, the skirt of her dress blowing in the breeze, her hair whirling around her head. When she turns to come back, her happiness is contagious. “I didn’t think I’d get to come to the beach on this trip. I love it here so much.”

  “So maybe you’re a little more LA than you thought.”

  “Maybe,” she replies sitting down and then lying back. With her hand cupped above her eyes to block the sun, she looks at me. “Can we do this?”

  “By this, you mean make out? Sure,” I say, shrugging and smiling. “If you insist.” I roll over and pretend I’m about to kiss her.

  And I kind of want to.

  More than I probably should.

  She sits up and huffs, but I can tell by her own smile that she’s entertained. Until she’s not and something else comes over her, flattening the joy that was in her eyes. She doesn’t push me away, her hands doing the opposite. The tips of her fingers touch the hem of my shirt. “You make this hard.” I think she knows what I’m going to say, so she playfully warns, “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what, pretty?”

  Laughing, she relents. “Fine. Say it.”

  “You make this hard,” I reply, eyeing lower than my abs that are now exposed from her toying with my shirt.

  “You never could resist.”

  “One of the many reasons you loved me.”

  This time she doesn’t respond. She just agrees nodding silently. I don’t kiss her. This time. And unless I’m reading her all wrong, she’s disappointed. I sit up, both of us wrapping our arms around our knees as we stare ahead. Keeping my attention on the distant horizon, I ask, “Were you married?”

  Resting her head on her knees, she faces me. “No. You?”