Been There Done That

by Smartypants Romance

  I took a moment to fully appreciate him in his formal wear. His freshly cut blond hair fell in neat layers and his beard was precisely trimmed. “I’m so grateful you escorted me tonight, but I’m just not in the gala mood. Not that I’m ever in a gala mood, to be honest. Sorry I dragged you along only to be poor company.”

  “I’ve been used as arm candy before. I’ll have you know, you owe me a good time. I have standards.” He flicked a glance down at my foot. “But I do believe you’ve earned yourself a pass this time. Why don’t you go and find a chair somewhere, take a load off?”

  “You really won’t mind? You won’t feel abandoned?”

  “Oh, I think I’ll be all right,” he said, and that lecherous grin I knew so well made an appearance on his smug face. Following his line of sight, I quickly identified a blond woman giving him cow eyes from only a few feet away.

  “Really? That fast? You’ve already sighted new prey?”

  His grin sharpened. “Darlin’, I reeled her in damn near the moment I walked in. She’s just waiting on Big Daddy to come over and change her life.”

  I let out a snicker and punched him in his hard arm. “You are the worst fake boyfriend.”

  He didn’t even bother to look from away from the woman’s come-hither gaze as he replied. “I’m not offended, even though I know it ain’t me you’ve been thinking about all night.”

  I reared back. “And who, exactly, do you think I’ve been thinking about?”

  His face grew impassive. “I think I see one of the officers I know from Knoxville. I’ll go over and say hi, right before I detour back and work on finding out if this woman went for no panties or a thong when she shimmied into that tight dress. Damn, it fits like skin.” He rubbed his hands together in anticipation, then gave me an infuriating wink. “How much you bet I can get her to tell me?”

  “I hope you get slapped when you ask. I’m going to find somewhere to sit down. I’ll be back when it’s time to hand over the check.”

  “Sounds good,” he said, and I shook my head as I watched him disappear into the crowd, grabbing another handful of the offensive canapés along the way.

  I started toward the doorway. There’d be no chairs in this room, but years of training with social anxiety had prepared me for this moment. I was certain I’d find a chair and merciful respite nearby in an unused conference room.

  As I neared the door, my gaze fell on the recessed handle on the opposite partition wall.

  Bingo.

  Nick

  Despite listening attentively as a researcher droned on about telomeres and cancer cells, I was hyper-aware of Zora’s arrival.

  More than a few heads turned to take in the sight of her in that gold dress. She’d been oblivious, of course, clearly preoccupied with wrangling her date.

  Jackson James.

  I’d forced myself to relax, to unclench my fists, as I watched Jackson James shamelessly flirt with another woman. With Zora right in front of him.

  Synchrony, indeed.

  Of all the fuckery.

  I’d known Leffersbee Financial would have a presence at the ACS gala. I also had an inkling it wouldn’t be prudent to mention my recent invitation, especially after learning Zora would be presenting a donation on the bank’s behalf.

  We hadn’t spoken since the truth came out in her kitchen over a week ago. Instinct told me to leave it, to give her space, but I had to come tonight. As a business entity intent on investing in the community, I needed to have a presence.

  And I wanted to see Zora in action.

  When she and Tavia were ten, her father decided it would be “cute” for them to star in a print campaign advertising the bank’s free checking accounts.

  It hadn’t gone as planned. In the end, only Tavia was the star of the campaign. Zora and I still laughed over the rejected proofs with both twins. Zora laughed, but I knew better. Deep down, she’d always craved her father’s approval. Ezra’s initial insistence that she participate showed he lacked insight about his quiet, introspective daughter. The ordeal hadn’t improved their relationship, to say the least. And there was only so much Ellie could fix.

  But Zora was no longer that little girl. She was a badass. Smart as hell. Sexy. I wanted to see Researcher Zora in action, in this setting.

  I wanted to learn her.

  Consume her.

  But my money was on her escaping first, before she had to play the public game. My gaze tracked her as she finally decided on a course of escape. Light reflected off the gold of her dress, giving her the appearance of a tongue of fire as she moved toward the door. Everything in me strained to follow the enticing twitch of her hips. To find her. To beg for another beginning.

  It was fucking impossible to breathe without her.

  But I needed to wait.

  So I fielded additional conversations, most layered with pointed references to the need for financial support. Then I gave up on being patient.

  I needed to see her.

  I’d nearly made it to the doorway of the ballroom when a hand closed around my arm, halting my progress.

  I came way too close to knocking that toothy grin off Jackson James’s goddamn face.

  “Nick! Funny seeing you here.”

  The band switched to a new number, one I recognized as a favorite of Zora’s dad. “Tears of a Clown” by Smokey Robinson & The Miracles.

  I regarded him silently. I had no small talk for him, and I was about five seconds away from losing my patience.

  “You know, the tabloids ran a story not too long ago about that woman you’re dating now. What’s her name? The one with the red hair, starred in that horror movie with the haunted house?” A hint of the devilment I remembered entered into his expression. “Tell me, just between us guys. Is her hair red all over, or—”

  “What do you want, Jackson?”

  His eyebrows shot up. “We didn’t get a chance to talk much in the bakery, what with your bear of a dog crop-dusting the place.”

  I made to move past him and felt his hand reattach itself to my arm. “What are you doing here, Nick?”

  I fought the urge to restore appropriate distance between us, with whatever degree of force was necessary.

  I’d grown, too. I wasn’t that same kid swinging a bat into the motorcycles of my mother’s dealers. I was in control of myself.

  Besides, there were too many witnesses.

  “Listen to me.” I took a deep breath. Calm. I would stay calm. “The only reason why I haven’t pulled you aside is out of respect for your father and that uniform. But if you don’t get your hand off my arm, that’s going to change.”

  He drew himself up to his full height. “I don’t need my badge to promise I’ll make your life a living hell if you even think of causing Zora any trouble.”

  “Because you love her so much, right?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “That’s right.”

  Huh.

  “And that’s why you’ve had your head down the tits of every woman you’ve come across tonight?”

  He stiffened.

  “Spare me, Jackson. You were a slick little runt back then, and you’re not much better now. Now, are you gonna get outta my way or I am gonna have to help you?”

  His hand tightened reflexively. “You haven’t changed either, Nick. Only this time she’ll see you for what you are.”

  “Unless you have official business with me, get out of my way.” I looked back at his grip on my elbow. “And I’d move my hand if I were you. Wouldn’t want there to be any misunderstandings.”

  I wouldn’t have imagined Jackson capable of the threat I now saw glittering in his gaze. He stepped toward me, gaze hard. “I’m always gonna be there for Zora. She’s making a mistake with you, and you’ll prove me right on that count. But if she calls, I’m going to come running.”

  I didn’t bother to mask my contempt. “Get the fuck out of my way.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Zora

  I’d almost to
pped my highest score in Tetris when the door swung open in a wide arc, admitting Nick.

  I wasn’t surprised. Part of me had expected his arrival. And even in the midst of all the hurt and shock of the previous days, I wasn’t all that disappointed to see him.

  Best not to examine those feelings too closely.

  My common sense took leave as I took him in, once again unexpectedly framed in a doorway. My mouth watered as I took in his large frame, now resplendent in dark formalwear. Impeccable tailoring followed the lines of his barreled chest, broad shoulders, and muscled thighs, exploiting his uncivilized roughneck build. My gaze caught on the tanned skin of his throat, crawled upward to the prominent cords of his neck. His beard had thickened.

  I wondered how that beard would feel against my face.

  I wondered how that beard would feel against other body parts.

  Help me, God.

  Teenage Zora had once dreamed there’d be an evening like this, with Nick and I dressed to the nines, married. I’d imagined the landscape of our future lives as one endless ball, an endless slow dance of love and sensuality.

  And now, all these years later . . . here we were. Two greatly changed people, searching for any clue on how to surmount the distance of so many years.

  Nick’s gaze traveled over my seated form. He held a glass of white wine in one hand, a snifter of a dark liquid in the other. His mouth opened, then closed.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  “Thank you.” I made a last desperate yank at my neckline.

  “I mean it. You’re stunning, and you always were. But there’s no escaping your beauty tonight. It’s overwhelming.”

  “You look pretty too,” I said shyly. And you look like a tree I’d like to climb. Again and again. A beautifully suited tree. I’d like to scratch my itch on your bark.

  “How did you know where to find me?” The tenor of my thoughts betrayed me, coloring my voice with an unexpected huskiness.

  Nick’s brows lowered, his head tilting ever so slightly. He gestured with the wineglass he held, kicking the door closed as he pushed off the doorway.

  “I thought you might like a drink. I know you hate these things. Thought that might not have changed. How’s the foot?”

  I managed a nod. “It’s okay. Better.”

  He gestured to the medical boot I’d propped on a chair in front of me. “I’ve been wondering how you were doing. I wanted to come by, to check on you but—” He gave me an appraising glance. “I thought you might need some space. After everything.”

  “You were right. I have needed space.”

  He gave a slow nod, then raised an eyebrow at the stacks of chairs on either side of me. “Nice setup you’ve got here. Mind if I join you?”

  I lifted a shoulder. I’d been delighted to find the adjoining room empty. The sliding partitions on this side created a smaller conference space. Chairs formed regimented lines on either side of an aisle. Hobbling, I’d managed to drag two chairs to the corner of the room and elevated my foot. Almost hidden among the towering stacks, I’d been happy to take refuge in my phone. Proceedings from the ballroom were still audible through the partition wall. Registering the band’s transition to a new Motown hit, I’d reasoned I could easily keep track of the program’s progress.

  Nick stood directly in front of me, apparently awaiting my verdict.

  “Sure, you can join me. But I don’t want you to miss out. Isn’t this your element?”

  He handed me the wineglass, along with the snifter. “Hold these, would you?”

  I accepted both, unable to tear my eyes away when he shrugged out of his jacket and wrestled a chair from the top of a stack.

  I redirected my eyes as he settled the chair nearby and draped his jacket over the back before he sat. His long legs extended toward me, his knee grazing mine.

  My fingers itched to restore order to the thick, unruly strands of his dark hair.

  “I don’t know if it’s my scene. It’s business. Necessary evil.”

  “So I’ve learned. Getting older is all about realizing you can’t escape those necessary evils, isn’t it?”

  “Whiskey’s mine. You keep the wine.” He leaned forward, fists clenched over his knees.

  I took a hesitant sip from the snifter, grimaced at the bitter bite. “Yeah, that’s whiskey, all right.” I extended the wineglass to him. “The whiskey is your price for entry. You keep the wine.”

  I risked a gulp, gasping as the whiskey seared a trail down my esophagus.

  “Why don’t you keep both. You might need something to wash the whiskey down.” He laughed.

  “You were always good at this,” I rasped, when I could breathe again.

  He frowned. “Good at what?”

  “The people, the politics, the noise.” I waved at the wall, indicating all that was on the other side. “Schmoozing. Pretending to be interested in boring things. Wheeling and dealing. Remember when you used to go with my dad to those conferences?”

  “I do. I used to wonder why he insisted on dragging me along to those banking conferences. I thought they were the most boring thing in the world. I didn’t mind humoring him because I liked spending time with him and Walker. Then one day I finally understood what he was trying to teach me, in his own way. He’d explain the objective, what he was trying to maneuver around or accomplish before we went into the event. Then he’d do the post-mortem with Walker and I during the drive home. He taught me some of the most profound business lessons I still use to this day.”

  “Like what?”

  His temple pulsed. “That the most important element of a sound strategy is knowing your opponent, your own weaknesses, and how far you’re willing to go to get what you want.” He nodded to himself. “Those words, those lessons, helped me start my first company.”

  “Dad always said you had a head for business.”

  “I owe your dad and your mother everything.”

  I shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. The truth, newly unearthed, still smarted. As a grown woman, I understood he’d done the best he could as a scared eighteen-year-old. But it wasn’t quite so easy to swallow the reality that the truth had been kept from me for so long. By him. By my own parents.

  “Speaking of a head for business, is your sister running things yet?” I looked up to see Nick eyeing me, his face soft.

  He understood.

  I breathed a bit easier at the topic change. It felt as if I’d lost my footing somewhere in the conversation.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t play coy. Out of all of us, your sister was the most creative thinker, business-wise. I know your dad had plans for Walker to rule, but . . .” He trailed off. “Walker . . .”

  “Is just trying to fill the role we all expected of him,” I supplied. “Still is. Whether he wants to or not. They have these take-no-prisoner fights—”

  “Competition breeds success, separates those who are willing to fight from those that would prefer to watch. Your father knows that.”

  I bristled on my brother’s behalf. “I hardly think Walker just wants to watch. He just—”

  “He’s not cut out for it,” Nick said bluntly, lacing his hands behind his head. “The same way you’re not. Neither you nor Walker is prepared to hunt down and kill your competitors for food. Now, Tavia—”

  “She’ll do anything,” I said, remembering my sister’s tense expression at lunch a few weeks ago. “Whatever it takes. She’s like a comic book villain. She wanted to talk to you, get advice. Benefit from some of your relationships.”

  His expression grew cautious. “I’d be more than willing to talk to her, though I’d hesitate to make any promises. Capital and influence, above all else, is what she needs. Those are the most important things, the drivers that will take her and Leffersbee Financial to the next level. She’s not there yet, but with a little more time, she will be.”

  I considered this. “Is that what’s most important to you now? Capital, influence?”


  His face took on a hard cast. “Should it not be important?”

  “I don’t know. I guess it’s just not what I expected. The Nick I knew wouldn’t have thought that way.”

  “The Nick you knew almost threw his life away because of one impulsive mistake. I learned.”

  I was almost at the end of the metaphorical limb, but I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to know. “And what did your mistakes teach you?”

  “Never to lose control. To always have the upper hand. Show no mercy when the deal is at stake.”

  “That sounds a little mercenary.”

  His mouth twisted. “Twelve years ago, our lives changed because I couldn’t be the man you needed me to be. I got into trouble I couldn’t get myself out of—”

  “Nick, stop.” I couldn’t take it, couldn’t take his self-recriminations anymore. Compassion surpassed my hurt, and all I wanted to do was comfort him. To make it better, even if it was twelve years later. “You were eighteen. You weren’t responsible for me and you weren’t responsible for your mother. You did the only thing you could.”

  He looked away, but I saw the flush along his neck. “I ruined us.”

  “You idiot, you made a mistake by making the choice for me.” Indoor voice, Zora. “I never would have left you alone to deal with all of that, never—”

  “Which is why I had to make the decision for you. There was no way you’d leave me, wherever I was. You deserved your own life. I’d do the same thing again.”

  Now that pissed me off. “You really don’t get it, do you? That by making the decision alone, you took my choice away?”

  “Isn’t that what love is? Making a sacrifice? Being willing to sacrifice yourself?”

  My heart skipped at that word. “Love is informed consent. It’s giving someone all the available information, all the potential risks and benefits, so they can make an informed decision. I don’t want anyone making a decision for me. If you don’t see how . . . arrogant and patriarchal that is—”

  “We were both idiots at eighteen, Zora.”

  I stood, whiskey in hand. “I don’t want to argue. It won’t help either of us at this point, and I’ve got to at least pretend to be in a less feral mood to give away the damn check—”