Mister Know It All: A Hero Club Novel

by Amélie S. Duncan

  I put a brush in a pot of water and folded my arms. Blair had said nothing I hadn’t thought before. I’d refused to allow her to self-isolate after her attack and the physical abuse by her stalker. She’d wanted to hide her disfigurement, but I pushed in and got everyone who mattered to support her recovery. Even my dad had performed her surgery pro bono after I asked him to meet with her.

  Blair carefully pulled her legs up on the couch and blew out her breath. “So, what are you waiting for? Cecile to break up with you? I’d say she’s already done it. She left three months ago. Plenty of time for you to get over her.”

  “I ended things with Cecile.”

  Blair’s mouth dropped open. “What did she say?”

  “Nothing. I’m still only able to leave messages.”

  She pursed her lips. “She’s a cold-blooded bitch. Whether or not she listens, she’s been told. Go see Jasmine.”

  I rubbed the hair on my jaw. “She doesn’t want to see me. Martin called and said he’s taking them to the Guggenheim.”

  She snorted. “Martin lowering himself to play hostess? He must be desperate for your show.”

  “He’s desperate for money. He’s told me his client Peter has blank-checked a commission series from me of Jasmine. Martin also wants to fuck her friend.”

  Blair gagged. “Please don’t make me think of Martin and sex.”

  Blair had sex with Martin, and both had nothing good to say about the other afterward.

  “What did he do?” I asked for the billionth time.

  She scrunched up her face. “Martin talks a lot during sex. It’s like having sex with a sports commentator. ‘Martin’s making his move.’”

  I laughed. “No way, but if that’s true, I don’t want to know about it. Are you going to swim?”

  “Nope. I need to go shopping for your dad’s birthday party. I’m not going to tell you what to do, but Aldric and Wendy have a big announcement.”

  I walked over to the couch, lifted her legs, and sat down. “New baby. Tell my brother and his wife congrats and thanks for the invitation but no thanks. We’re destined to be alone.”

  “Speak for yourself,” she said dreamily.

  “You’re going to have to tell me who he is sooner or later.”

  “I choose later,” she said. “Now go ruin Jasmine’s time at the Guggenheim.”

  My phone buzzed, and I showed Blair it was Andre calling.

  She snorted. “Again? When will he give up?”

  Apparently never. He thought calling me would get me to change my mind. His dad gave me his summer home in his will so that other people with ALS like him could use it as a vacation with their families. Not let Andre waste the money as he’d done with everything else.

  “You’re not getting the house. So what the hell do you want now?” I said into the phone as I answered.

  “You already know what I need,” he said back. “I filed papers to challenge your ownership. My dad was incapacitated when he signed that will and his property over to you—”

  “We both know he wasn’t.”

  His father’s ALS had advanced three years later from the date he signed his new will. He changed it after finding out his son had lost millions on another financial scheme.

  “Do you really want to waste time on a legal battle? Just give me the house, Ford. I will even agree to donate some of the money to ALS.”

  “I’ll only consider giving it to you if your donation is enough to purchase another house for people with ALS and has the same medical needs modifications.”

  “You need to get over it, come on, Ford. I barely flirted with Cecile, and she was on me. It didn’t take much for her to fuck behind your back. She’s not worth our friendship. I’m sorry, okay? Let’s get past this and meet up?”

  “Don’t you get it? I don’t want anything to do with you. I’m not with Cecile. Do whatever the fuck you want to, but don’t call me again.”

  I disconnected the call and cursed. “God, that man makes me furious.”

  “I’m sorry he’s still harassing you, Ford. He’s an egotistical asswipe,” Blair said haughtily.

  I laughed at that. Blair had never been a great fan of Andre, but now, even less so.

  “Egotistical asswipe. I’m keeping that.” I took a deep breath and then sighed. I just wanted all the hostility and futility to be gone from my life. I wanted the girl back who was starting to bring me back to life.

  Time to find her and bring her home.

  JASMINE

  Neo-Impressionist thirst trap

  I spun with my head back and arms outstretched beneath the bottom of the famous Guggenheim’s spiral tiers, gazing up at the domed skylight above. My attempt at marking the moment. I couldn’t help but think of Ford, how he’d make fun of or kiss me. And, oh, how I wanted his kiss, his arms around me. Honestly, I had been taking my time, memorizing him and this surreal time and space I’d fallen into with him, an extraordinary man I just met who made my heart pound and flutter at the same time. A man who made me wish I could stop time and relive the hours I spent with him.

  Letting Ford go before things became more serious still hurt, but my conscience was better for it in the long run. His photos in the gallery told a story of love. And Ford believed his love for Cecile was one worth waiting for. Thinking back on past relationships, I’d overdone everything to please my partner, though never had I felt secure he’d stay.

  I sighed heavily. That was what I wanted, to be truly loved and cherished, nothing less.

  “Hey, what can I do?” Tam said and placed her arm around my drooping shoulder and squeezed.

  I forced a smile. “I’m fine, or I will be. I’ve always wanted to see this museum.”

  “Are you lovely ladies ready to go in?” Martin asked and placed his hand low on Tam’s back—the very same move Ford had used on me when I met him.

  Tam stepped forward, making his hand drop, but remained at his side. “We’re never going to happen, so let’s be friends.”

  I marveled at Tam’s smooth brush-off. She always kept things real. Now, why hadn’t I done that when Ford did that to me? His manhandling had captivated me. If only I’d brushed him off, I wouldn’t have gotten so caught up that I obsessed over him and his message this morning.

  Ford: Please give me a chance to explain everything. I’ll answer anything as long as you see me again.

  How could you explain you’re still in love with someone else? While I’d hoped at the beginning, I could be this modern woman who owned her sexuality and could do casual sex, I couldn’t. My feelings for him had changed, and getting involved when I’d seen something special between him and Cecile wasn’t fair to any of us.

  A middle-aged woman in an iconic Chanel tweed suit and lots of jewelry approached Martin. “I had no idea you’d be here today. I have a quick question about the Zmirak exhibition?”

  “Jasmine and I can wait for you over there.” Tam gestured toward the front desk.

  “Okay,” he said. “Give them my name for the passes. If you don’t want to do the audio tour, I can share what I know about the collection.”

  We walked over to the counter and gave his name. I adjusted my glasses and tested the museum’s headphones handed to us by the male behind the counter.

  Tam handed the set back to him. “No, thank you. I’m not up for zoning out.”

  She wasn’t. Tam had dressed to impress in a jumpsuit with a V-neck and sky-high stilettos with her flawless face expertly made up. Even though Martin hadn’t caught Tam’s eye, someone else might. And in the meantime, she would ask Martin about everything to do in New York City. As for myself, I dressed for comfort in a button-down linen dress with a pair of Star Trek socks and brown leather birdie shoes.

  “I feel weird having you walk with a tour while I talk with Martin.”

  “I’d rather listen to the tour than talk. I want you to have fun. Coming to visit me doesn’t mean we have to occupy every minute together.”

  “Fine. We’
ll be in the same area until we meet up for lunch in two hours?”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Martin returned to stand in front of us. “Sorry. The gallery is in the middle of our busy season. Shall we go?”

  I held up my earphones. “I’m doing the tour.”

  “We’ll meet up at the Basquiat Exhibition.”

  “Oh, Basquiat. I love his artwork,” Tam trilled.

  “You do? Well, I have a story about him that no one outside a select few of us know about,” Martin said.

  Tam lit up. “Oh, do tell.”

  I grinned. She’d never pass up good gossip. “Okay, I’ll catch up with you two later.”

  Turning on the headphones, I headed up the inclining ramp. I followed them through Picasso and Van Gogh paintings and Pollack sculptures. The audio information gave some history of the paintings, but my mind drifted to people watching. So many couples and families were existing in their little worlds inside the NYC metropolis. So many stories.

  I wrapped my arms around myself, and my heart sank. Even surrounded by people, I felt utterly alone.

  Whoosh. A bag hit my back. “Ouch.”

  “Sorry.” A woman laughed. The guy with her grabbed her around the waist in a passionate embrace as if I wasn’t there. They weren’t the only couples who weren’t keeping their hands to themselves. Room after room, I’d find a couple holding each other or stealing kisses.

  I stiffened my spine and pressed my lips together, scribbling on the notepad I pulled out of my bag.

  Am I the only one, or do art museums make you horny? Unsuspecting couples seem to have no power over the erotic allure of art.

  I felt someone behind me, the scent so similar to what Ford wore. I’d sniffed my clothes and didn’t wash them right away so that I could relive the memory of when he had been so close to me, how I’d inhaled into his neck when he plunged deep inside me.

  “Excuse me, miss,” a male voice said, and I stepped back, allowing him and the woman he had tucked in his side to pass by. My heart panged. Why couldn’t I stop thinking about him?

  I walked on until I made it to the top before heading to the Basquiat Exhibition. More couples were touching each other. There was something intimate about the images. Conclusion: Guggenheim was great for couples, sad for singles.

  “You’re wearing my socks.”

  My heart leaped. Ford.

  I turned my head, and there Ford stood in the flesh. His clothes were impeccable and suited him perfectly, though his white T-shirt under a single-button blazer and jeans was casual. His thick blond mane was sexily disheveled, framing his breathtaking face. Instead of his usual clean-shaven look, his square jaw had the beginnings of a beard. I wanted to touch it and feel if the hair there was as soft as it was on his chest and the trail that led downward. A surge of arousal shot through me. Shit. Now I’m thinking about his cock.

  Ford’s face broke into a grin. “What are you thinking about?”

  “Nothing,” I answered quickly.

  “You’re thinking about sex with me, and it’s an excellent memory. I know.”

  My face burned. “I was thinking about your hair. It looks stylish bedhead.”

  He came so close I’d have to touch him to get by him.

  “You did like to grab it when your hands were free.”

  I held my breath as he tucked my hair behind my ears. His eyes roved over my messy bun and smiled at my feet.

  “You look pretty in my socks.”

  I fiddled with the headset as I tried to still my racing pulse under his intense stare. I had on a pair of his Star Trek socks; they didn’t go with my outfit, and Tam surprisingly didn’t say anything when I walked out of the apartment with them on.

  “You gave the socks to me. That makes them mine.”

  His gaze bore in, and there was a warm intimacy there that made my pulse increase. “They are mine, and so are you, petal.”

  My chest fluttered. Petal. I liked the pet name. I liked him staking a primal claim on me. I turned my head, but his hand clasped the side of my face.

  “Don’t look away from me.” His commanding tone turned me on in the bedroom, but it annoyed me that it had any power outside of it. His thumb gently brushed my cheek, and I sank into his palm and soothing touch. I couldn’t think when he touched me.

  “I had to see you, Jasmine.”

  “Why?” I asked, closing my eyes and pushing his hand away. “You shouldn’t be here. I want you to leave me alone.”

  “I can’t. I feel something for you as you do for me. You can deny it now, but I felt your tears on my chest when I held you. You care.”

  I stared down at my shoes. Did I cry? I don’t remember crying?

  “I . . . I don’t. I was emotional because of what happened with Randall. You have your life here, and I have mine in Boston. Even if you don’t stay with Cecile, we’d never work, and I can’t do casual sex with you while you wait for her return.”

  “That’s not what I want.” His voice broke, and he cleared his throat. I looked at him. His head cast down, and one of his hands rubbed the back of his neck. “Jasmine, my art is my life,” he said, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “The point of my compositions is raw reflection. The feelings on your face mirror what I feel. Your photos are us. I thought I’d never feel anything again after she left me, and I can’t just walk away when I feel something. To be honest, Cecile hasn’t been a part of my life for some time. I didn’t lie. I’ve moved on. Come back and listen to me, spend more time with me. I don’t want to stop seeing you.”

  My heart swelled as I stared at him. I felt something, and more time with him could deepen it and make things even harder. But I needed more of a definitive answer about his relationship.

  “What about Cecile?” I asked, my voice thick.

  “She won’t talk to me directly, but I’ve ended things with her.”

  I touched his arm, and he placed it around my shoulder, hugging me to him.

  “Tell me everything, Ford. I need to know.”

  “Not here. Come back to my place.”

  I tensed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Are you afraid you’ll end up in my bed again?”

  His hand slid low on my back to just above the curve of my buttocks.

  “Yes, and you’re not helping.” I removed his hand. “I’ve only agreed to listen. The conversation we need has to be on neutral ground.” I glanced around at the artwork. My nipples swelled under my bra. Not here. “I can’t think straight in the middle of this Neo-Impressionist thirst trap.”

  He laughed. “Museums are the horniest places on the planet. But I promise if you come, I won’t try anything. You have my word.”

  “Fine, but wait, I need to find Tam and see what she wants to do.”

  “Let’s go tell her.” He placed his arm on my lower back, and a thrilling shiver coursed through me. And it felt too good to move away. Dammit.

  In a side corridor, Martin and Tam were laughing like old friends.

  I walked forward and waved at Tam. “Ford appeared in the Neo-Impressionist exhibit.”

  Martin grinned. “Ford. I didn’t know you were coming.”

  I smirked at him. “Sure, you didn’t.”

  “Hello, I’m Ford.” He held out his hand, and Tam reluctantly took his in hers.

  “We’re off to the ladies’ room to talk about you two,” Tam said to them, and we walked away and inside the nearest one to the hall.

  “Tam, you seem to get along with Martin,” I said and leaned my hip against the left row of sinks.

  She dug in her small purse and removed her lip gloss. “Once he realized he’d never get me, he relaxed and was fun. He had stories about everyone who’s anyone in New York, and I love a good gossip. He even offered to take me to The Dakota to see Yoko’s private home collection. He knows her,” Tam enthused.

  Tam had an original copy of Yoko’s book Grapefruit as one of her prize possessions. “But I can skip all of that. I�
��m here for you. Now tell me what Ford’s doing here.”

  “He wants to explain. He says he has feelings.” I chewed on my lip.

  “Just bottom-line his ass. If Ford wants you, he needs to dump Cecile for good. Hell, I’ll tell him.”

  “He’s told her about me. He says he told her he doesn’t want to be with her anymore.”

  “That’s a start. Nothing less will ever be good enough for you, Jasmine.”

  “Or you, Tam. I also don’t want you to pass up an experience at the Dakota. Go with Martin. I’ll hear Ford out, but I won’t promise him anything.”

  I said the last part more for myself. Respecting myself was something I would no longer put behind everyone else. I deserved better.

  “Good, then let’s rejoin them for lunch. If you change your mind, we can go through some more museums or take a boat ride around the Hudson.”

  We hugged each other. “Thanks, Tam.”

  She swung open the door with a flourish. “Let’s go.”

  We left the Guggenheim for lunch. I rode with Tam and Martin because I was afraid I was so horny that I’d have sex with Ford in the car. Ford followed us onto the Henry Hudson Parkway to the Meatpacking District to reach RH Loft. Martin knew someone there and took us to a seat with a hostess ready to take orders, and Tam, Ford, and Martin seemed to have ideas on what we should try for all of us. I didn’t mind. Watching Tam so delighted in NYC made me happy. I’d missed her.

  “I feel like dancing tonight,” Tam announced and took a sip of wine.

  “I’ll take you,” Martin offered. “There are nightclubs, and there are boring tourist traps. You want an unforgettable night, then you’ll want me with you.”

  I cocked an eyebrow at Tam, and she lifted the corner of her mouth, Martin was a braggart, but Tam liked his willingness to show her around. Tam never had problems sucking life’s marrow.

  “I’m not sure I’m up for it,” I said and glanced at Ford.

  We agreed to wait until after lunch to talk at his house. There he promised to answer any question I had. For now, we sat at one of the best rooftop tables at the Restoration Hardware Loft restaurant. Tam chose the place since she was the visitor and keen on their interior design. The restaurant hostess had placed us at an elegant glass-enclosed space with glittering chandeliers and linen tablecloths, and we all feasted on warm baguettes with an array of jams, fresh fruit, poached salmon, truffle grilled cheese, and lobster rolls.