ROMANCE: Romantic Comedy: Love in 30 Days - The Best Plans Don't Always Work! (Plus 19 FREE Books Book 13)

by Jane Keeler

She corrected herself, "Enjoy working together."

  They had grown closer and closer and couldn't stop looking at one another. The lights twinkled all around them as their vision blurred. They both leaned in to touch lips. She parted his and she put her tongue onto his, then pulled away.

  "Oh, that was wrong of me," he said, wiping his lip, then he looked back at her. Sasha looked back at his beautiful eyes and the way his face looked dashingly handsome in this lighting. She moved forward. He pushed his hand past his lips and moved forward to hold her in his arms. They locked lips and kissed again, then parted once more.

  "We should not have done that, right?"

  "I really felt something did you?"

  Sasha asked, "Should we have really felt something just then?"

  He shrugged, "Should we have kissed at all?"

  "Shouldn't we have?"

  "I don't know," he said with a sigh.

  They stood apart and awkwardly shuffled about the patio, what seemed to be a small space to them, now.

  "Let's go?" she said with a lilt in her voice.

  He opened the door and asked, "You want to?"

  "Yeah, sure. I'm sorry, I guess?"

  They left the patio and Dale said, "No, don't worry about it. I think we were both--uh, I don't quite know."

  "I'll see you tomorrow?"

  "You will."

  The next morning Sasha had the urge to clear her mind, to look out and see nothing. Nothing in front of her and no obstacles to leap over, anymore. But the mistake of last night, the stain on her life were making it difficult. So difficult that her mind was only on it when she went to catch the 7 o'clock train to the office. She was hurried and exhausted from the night before and hated the way the kiss was weighing on her mind. Despite that, she got her ticket and got on to the train without much problem.

  There she ran into Dale. He was on the train she walked onto and said to her, "Don't worry, I'm just here to make sure that you can know last night was something that I want to look past."

  "Me, too," she said, off-guard at the sudden conversation.

  "And that I want you to be ready for a pre-work work talk. I wanted to go over some plans with you before we were in the office. Want to join me?"

  They talked mostly about the latest project that expanded the departments to save on taxes and make the voters. It was exactly the kind of talk she would have expected at the office, but that day she realized he was too swamped to take much time out of his already packed schedule. It was nice of him to have done it at all, albeit on her train ride. It was nice, though, to have someone just as dedicated as she hoped most politicians were.

  At two o'clock he swung by her office and said, "I want you to get off early today, so that we can make up for the time on the train today. That work?"

  "That works," she said.

  "If you want to grab a lunch today, we could. Unless you already have eaten," he said with a question to his voice.

  "I have," she said regretfully.

  "The another day," he said.

  "Another day," she agreed.

  She left, cursing herself for not taking the opportunity to be around him more. But it was smart to not go on being too close with somebody that she had such an attraction to. She did, after all, really want to be able to work for him without feeling this way, but she couldn't help it at all.

  It went on like that for weeks until she came into work and had a realization halfway through the day. She had't seen much of him during that time and going into his office felt like a privilege to be doing so. She showed him the work she had done and the documents and polling numbers she had to reference the ingenuity of what she had done. There was something about what she had put onto paper that was unlike what she had seen done before, but something that could help them majorly. She knew that she had done something great and showed him.

  "This is fantastic, I can't believe what I'm looking at. Nice job, really."

  He turned to her and she caught a glimmer in his navy blue eyes. She could have sworn they looked lighter before, but now they were more dark. She smiled back at him and pretended not to notice.

  "This is great work, phenomenal. You really are great at this, Sasha. I can't wait to see more work like this. Not just you, but everybody could step up their game."

  He was charismatic and brought her into the hall, then gathered everybody working on his campaign over to him.

  "Look over this once Joanna has copied it. Study it, because this is the kind of stuff I need everybody to be dishing out. If you have to use the same format, do that. If you have to use the same wording, do that. Just get this across multiple platforms for me. I want this work recognized for what it is and what it can do for this campaign."

  "Thank you," she told him.

  He put a hand over hers once everyone had dispersed back to their desks.

  "No, thank you, Sasha."

  Their eyes stayed on one another's for a half a second and then they looked away.

  "I have to go back," he said.

  "Me, too."

  They both went back to their respective office and desk. But, the next day held more of the same when she caught a flaw in the next write up.

  "I even looked over that myself," he said.

  "I only caught it because I was referencing it. Without you, though, we wouldn't have been able to see that. Thank you, again."

  "Of course, Mr. Houser."

  "Of course," he said with a chuckle. He then added, "You should call me Dale."

  "Dale," she said, feeling the weight of the name.

  "You should call me that," he said. "We haven't gotten close after your party, have we?"

  "We haven't," she agreed.

  Dale said, "Well, I want to fix that. Dinner on me tonight?"

  "Dinner sounds fantastic," she said.

  "Well then it's settled."

  "Settled," she said before nodding and asking, "anything else?"

  "Other than to know what it is you would like to eat."

  "I can never pass up a great steak," she said.

  Dale said hungrily, "Red meat. Sounds perfect."

  "Perfect," she said before leaving the room.

  Outside of the office she could feel her heart pounding from the interaction. There was something about him that really made her feel like she was going through a crush for the first time. He was so charismatic and in such a seat of power that she felt like she was getting in over her head if she wanted to stay platonic with him.

  That night they met outside of the restaurant and were seated inside. They talked about everything, ranging from her childhood in upstate New York and his seemingly insatiable addiction to fast cars. He had come from a wealthy family and was the last of his line, which was well known. He had old money because of that. Given that, she tried to stay away from the topic of his family, but he was willing to talk about them.

  "No mystery there," he said. "My parents were great people that died all too soon."

  "That is tragic."

  He agreed, "Yes. I suppose it is tragic. I try not to think of it as tragic or traumatizing. It happened and I moved past it."

  She was slightly stunned by the blasé way in which he treated the event, but she knew everybody grieved in their own ways.

  "Do you feel like there's anything in your life that you do to cope with it?"

  "Work," he said with a laugh. "Work and cars."

  "So, with work-?"

  "With work, huh?"

  "You don't want to talk about it?"

  "No, ask away."

  "What happened with Mr. Rudenbacker? He had some very serious accusations towards you and I never got to hear how you managed it."

  "Mr. Rudenbacker," he said with a chuckle, "has never been more sick in his life."

  "Oh, that's terrible to hear," she said, aghast.

  "It's good for me," he said with a revealing smile.

  "Yes, I suppose it is. But shouldn't you try to show remorse over his illness?"
>
  "For the cameras and public, of course. But in front of you, why not?"

  "Why not is right," she said, sipping her drink.

  He said lightly, "I want to not talk about work, actually. I want to know more about you, instead. Favorite color?"

  "Blue," she said, looking into his eyes. They were a stormy slate blue tonight in the lighting of the steakhouse.

  "Blue, huh? I like it, too. Favorite animal?" Dale asked.

  Sasha replied, "Oh, what is this game all about?"

  Dale laughed heartily and then said, "It says a lot about you, is all."

  "Fine, hummingbirds."

  "You like the fast ones?"

  "Not fast men, though," she said without thinking.

  "Oh, you think I'm a fast man."

  Thinking back on all of the months she had known him and seen no women with him, she said, "I know you're not."

  "You're right. I am not. I'm a slow man if we're talking about women."

  "We're talking about women, huh?" she asked.

  "I hope not," he said.

  "We don't have to."

  Dale said, "No, we can. What do you want to know?"

  "Well, nothing really. Do you have a girlfriend?"

  "None to speak of."

  "Do you think you've ever been in love?"

  A look of gloom came over his face, "Once, but it left me in heartbreak, if you can call it that."

  She was shaken, but said, "I think heartbreak is a great way to describe that loss. Now, another question. Favorite sport?"

  "Sport? Well, that's a subject change. I've played all of them. Baseball, football, basketball, swimming, water polo. All of them."

  "How did you have time for anything in high school?"

  "I didn't."

  She laughed and he followed suit, then raised his glass to her and drank from it. She followed suit with hers and then they sat back, enjoying one another's mere presence.

  "Now, what is your favorite attribute about yourself?" he asked.

  "Mine?" she asked. "I am very kind-hearted, to be completely truthful."

  "We are nothing tonight if not truthful," he said with a scratchy, almost growl-like voice.

  The rest of the night went accordingly and the two of them continued to bond over some trivial and some deeper topics. The two seemed capable of having fun with one another and knew somehow that there was a bond that was forming that was unmatched before in their lives.

  Outside of the restaurant they hugged and said goodbye, but ended up talking more than they had in the restaurant.

  "Do you want to get coffee?" he asked and she agreed to it.

  It seemed like the two of them were getting closer, but she could tell her infatuation for him was taking a backseat to the utter joy of being in his company as a friend. It was still there, though. When he shook out his blonde hair and touched his hands to it, she felt like she could smell the cologne and pomade he used coming off of him in effervescent wafts of air. It sent chills down her spine and she had to hold herself back from asking him more personal questions.

  She wanted to know what kind of girls he liked and what was the deal with the heartbreak he had gone through. She wanted to know if he would consider dating and if she could count on him to be a good companion. She wanted to know how loyal he was and what she could mean to her. But those were all things he wouldn't want her to ask, she knew.

  The sirens of police cars and fire trucks coursed through the streets as steam from the underground trains rose into the air from the grates. A wind swept through the road and moved her hair across his face. He swept it back with a finger and looked into her eyes as he moved the lock and put it behind her ear.

  As he moved her hair aside, he felt the soft skin of her ear and could almost smell the flowery scent of her shampoo she used as he did. He moved his hand slowly down her jawline and then off of her skin. A chill went down his spine.

  He almost asked, "Is this what love feels like?" but didn't. He knew better.

  It's not that he had lied to her, but his heartbreak had come from a family member, never a woman. He had actually never felt love for a woman. That is why he could abstain for so long, and had, from getting a girlfriend. It could potentially ruin his political career if he chose the wrong mate. Plus, he knew they would eventually find out. If anybody got close enough, they would be dumb if they didn't find out about him. His true power. His true self.

  Sasha wasn't the same to Dale, though. She wasn't like any other woman he had yet to meet. She made him feel things. She made him feel like what he was doing was in fact wrong. Like he should be opening himself up to her. Like he shouldn't close off from love just because of the secret identity he kept. She made him feel whole, like a human instead of what he was. She made him feel like that and he wasn't even with her. He knew he shouldn't be. He had been warned not to be. But she wasn't like other women. Given, he wasn't like other men, but he was quite sure she was just a mortal. Despite that, she had a quality to her that he had never seen in one.

  Perhaps, he thought, she could be a descendant of a fallen angel or any other sort of a deity. But, if she was, that would ruin his plans even further. Her energy, the power he could only presume she had, would quell his. How much, he didn't know. But, he also didn't want to find out. He wanted to have left her on the patio without a kiss, but he had been so deeply attracted to her that he couldn't. And he wanted to leave her, now, to keep things between them professional, but he couldn't pull himself to do it.

  "Sasha, I wonder if you can lie awake at night the same way I do. Because if you do, I want to fix that. I lie awake thinking about you and only you. How much you should be mine but how much you aren’t. I lie awake wondering if you miss me the way I miss you. Without even knowing you, I miss you. When I finally sleep I dream of loving you and when I wake up I find myself to be dreadfully alone."

  "I don't want you to be alone," Sasha told him and pushed forwards. Their lips met and he felt like he had been ignited. That kiss months ago was like a wound to him for all of that time, but now it was healed. He was healed. He wanted her as much as he had ever wanted anything before, perhaps even more. He had never felt such an explosion of feelings. His tongue touched hers and wrapped around it, then loosened its hold and their lips parted. She pulled away, reluctant to continue.

  He said to her, "I knew the moment I saw you that I wanted you. I wanted to kiss you because you were wonderful. Before I knew you were beautiful, I knew you were kind. And I wanted to kiss you then. And before that I knew that you were smart and I wanted to kiss you. And before that I knew that you were lovely and I wanted to kiss you and before that I wasn’t living because I didn’t want to kiss you. The only thing that gives me life is wanting to kiss you. So, let me?"

  Sasha said, "I can let you."

  She leaned in again and they kissed. This time his hands moved along her body and sat at her waistline as his body pushed into hers. She pushed back and they held one another, then pulled apart from the kiss.

  "I want to do this all night," she breathed.

  "Then let's," he told her.

  "I want to take things at a slower pace," she told him.

  Dale said, with a nonchalant shrug as to not betray his emotions, "That sounds fine."

  "It does?" she said. "Oh, good. Because what you said, it means so much to me, but I want to know you'll be true to me."

  "I'll be true to you."

  "And I want to know you'll be honest with me, always."

  "Always," he promised, not knowing if he could hold that promise.

  She continued, "Will you always be there for me? When I need you?"

  "I will."

  "Then, perhaps, maybe..." she trailed off.

  "We don't have to do anything," he let her know.

  "Somehow it's more important to me that you want to be with me, not just that you are."

  She looked surprised, "Oh, really?"

  "Really," he reassured.

  "You
want me for me, not just as a prize or a way to get some?"

  "Get some?" he asked. "What, are you kidding?"

  Sasha shook her head and her hair fell and lifted with it as she said, "I'm not."

  "Then that's a no from me," he told her. "I don't just want you because you can be something to me. I want you because you are something to me. I already feel this connection to you that, for lack of a better word, is otherworldly. I want to see where this can go."

  "We can see," she said. "We can see."

  "For now?"

  "For now?" she asked him in reply. "For now we go back to your place."

  He smiled jubilantly, a feeling he had never felt before. Something about her completed him and he wanted to know more about it. What it was and why it was that she could hold such a power over him. The thrill of it was intoxicating to him.

  He lived in a penthouse that overlooked central park in New York and she looked out of it, mesmerized by the passing traffic lights, buildings, and pedestrians so far below. The windows were on every side of the room and she thought about the sexiness of being able to see the entire city and have none of the city able to see her. She slipped off her coat and cardigan then set them on the couch.

  "More to drink?" he asked as he hung his coat up and got hers to hang up, too.

  "More to drink? No, no."

  "Then I will not partake, either."

  She said, "Please feel free to."

  "No, there's no reason."

  "Then let's drink for no reason. I'll have wine if you will, too."

  "I will," he said. "If you will."

  She meandered around his kitchen then paused and asked, "So you're for sure invested in us?"

  "I am, for sure," he said, looking up from getting the cork out of the bottle.

  "For sure, eh?" she said with a half-smile.

  They clinked glasses and drank a few sips, then drank again less frugally. They went to his room and she found that the room was decorated from top to bottom with silky red sheets of satin and the bed was a four-poster, with sheets of satin hanging from the topes of the poles that glided from one to the next. There was a sort of mood lighting that felt like candles and the room had a warmth to it from them. She lounged atop his bed and he laid down next to her.