eyond Desire Collection

by JS Scott, M Malone, Marie Hall, et al

  But I swallow the words like I swallow everything else.

  Because I’m good at that.

  Chapter Three

  Liliana

  My head is pounding. It took me an hour to get back to sleep after that conversation with my mom. I shouldn’t have bothered going back to bed knowing I had to get up in less than two hours, but I had, and now I feel like crap.

  It would have been nice if maybe the day had followed my mood, been a little gloomy and cold. But no, it’s bright and light and cheery. The sky is blue, birds are singing in the trees, and the campus lawn is littered with students. Some of them laughing, others studying, and even a few full-on making out.

  I love college. Love everything about it.

  After giving birth, I’d sworn my life was over. But a counselor told me my grades were good enough that if I kept working at it, I could eventually win a scholarship. I’d worked my ass off and as luck would have it, I did get one.

  A great one, actually.

  Room and board—the full ride. It’d always been my dream to attend the University of Texas, to live in the dorms, party it up on the weekends, join a sorority… but once Javi came… Well, that dream went into a six-foot ditch and got covered over with dirt. There was no choice but to stay at home, watch Mom and Javi and not think about (ever) what I’d given up the moment I’d chosen to have him.

  Coffee’s an all-consuming obsession at this point. I have an hour between classes. Running across the street, I head to Chai Time. The second I open the door, I’m blasted with my favorite scents in the whole wide world—smoky coffee and frothy cream. Inhaling deeply, I smile at the guy working the counter.

  “Alex! Hey.” I wave. “Haven’t seen you in a few days.”

  His blond good looks and silver-gray eyes had made my heart dip the first time I met him a few months ago. He’d definitely seemed interested, but I’d ignored him. Dating wasn’t an option for someone like me.

  After a while he’d obviously realized I wasn’t interested and things have become friendlier. Actually, he’s one of my favorite people on campus, even though we only ever meet in passing.

  Handing a cup to the customer in front of me, he smiles back. “Hey, Lili Bean. Looking sexy as ever.”

  I smirk, stomach tightening with a feathery tickle. “Happy Valentine’s day.”

  Rolling his eyes, he groans.

  “That bad, huh?”

  “You could say that.” Grabbing a cup, he starts working on my order.

  The great thing about being a regular is that I never have to say what I want anymore—venti mocha latte with soy and no cream, yummy.

  “Cousin’s got this thing for hittin’ up a bar until he’s totally wasted.”

  Nose wrinkling, I shake my head. “Sounds like a blast.”

  Actually it sounds more like a nightmare.

  “Yeah, it’s his yearly ritual.” He turns on the frothing spout, and it purrs to life loudly. “Actually, it sucks balls and I hate it.”

  His smile’s really nice and I glance down at my feet, feeling myself wanting to respond in kind. Flirting doesn’t happen, not for me, not ever. In another life, maybe.

  Besides, Alex knows about Javi. I saw the light dim in his eyes the moment I mentioned him. Some men might be able to deal with a woman who has a kid, but no one wants a woman with a special-needs child. And no matter what, Javi always comes first in my world.

  The lid snaps onto my cup and my mouth’s already watering as he hands it to me, but when I go to grab it, he holds on. Our fingers touch.

  “Listen, I know we only ever talk here. But would you like to come with us?”

  I suddenly have this strange feeling like he desperately wants me to say yes. It’s in the way his eyes narrow and his mouth thins. His gaze is intense too, like he’s silently pleading with me to agree.

  And the word on the tip of my tongue is an emphatic no, with all the same excuses chambered behind it. Javi. Homework. My mother.

  But the weight of seven years comes crashing down on me then. Seven years with no time off. Seven years of making dinner, folding laundry, giving baths, wiping butts (not always Javi’s), screaming, crying, begging God to help me…

  I need this.

  “Okay,” I hear myself say. And my voice sounds so soft, unsure. Like I’ve never heard it before. Shocked, I blink and so does he. I can’t quite believe I said that.

  “Okay?” he asks, clearly as startled as I am.

  How many times has he asked me out in the past and I’ve always said no? Countless.

  “Yeah. Okay.” I say it stronger this time, like I need to hear myself say it again just to believe it. “Where?”

  His smile’s huge. “Sixth Street? Maybe a dance-bar kind of a thing?”

  Getting excited now, I nod. His grip on my cup goes lax and I take it, finally able to get that first swallow I’ve been craving all morning, sighing with relief as it slides down my throat, wishing I could inject the stuff straight into my veins, it’s so good.

  “I have an idea—how about the Pink Lady?”

  “The burlesque bar?” He smirks, eyes lighting with fevered excitement.

  Running my finger around the rim of the cup, I wiggle my brows. “I work there, actually.”

  “Yeah?” Suddenly the gleam of interest I haven’t seen for months is back. He’s inspecting me up and down and I can feel a hot blush working its way up my neck. “I knew you were sexy.”

  Blowing air through my lips, I wave his words off. “I don’t dance. Just tend bar. But I like the atmosphere and the food’s killer.”

  Another customer enters. Glancing over my shoulder, I start to back up as a balding guy in tweed walks up with a harried expression.

  “So?” I bite my bottom lip and roll onto my toes, waiting for his answer.

  “I’ll never say no to that.”

  “Awesome.” Waving, I turn and run out the door before I can change my mind. Mom hates where I work, but the tips are good and money’s tight. She’d hate knowing I’m headed back there on my night off, but if I have to go out anyway, I’d rather be someplace I feel safe. I like Alex, but I don’t know him all that well. In case anything gets crazy, I know Henry (offensive linebacker for the Longhorns and the Pink Lady’s bouncer) will have my back.

  ***

  Ryan

  “Burlesque?” I look at my cousin, wondering if he always thinks with his nuts, but no sooner than I ask that question, I know the answer. Don’t all guys? I laugh. “Not exactly the kind of place I’m used to, but whatever. So long as they’ve got liquor, I’m good.”

  Stepping out of the shower, I wrap the bath towel around my waist. Alex has the door slightly cracked, not peeking inside but just talking to me.

  “And I, uh, hope you don’t mind, but I invited this chick I know.”

  Sighing, I run my hand across the mirror. “Whatever floats your rocks, man.”

  “It’s not a date. Not like that.” Alex is quick to correct me.

  Which is funny, because I wasn’t really viewing this as anything. Alex likes women and they generally like him. He’s a good guy with a good head on his shoulders. We don’t care if the other one brings home a woman, not like we need to ask permission. “So you telling me she’s available?” I smirk as I brush the knots from my wet hair.

  “Look, man.” Alex breathes hard. “I like this girl. Don’t screw with her head. You got that?”

  Stopping, I pull the brush away and lean back to look at him. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Alex is already dressed in jeans and a burnt-orange Longhorn’s shirt and hat, looking every inch the proud U.T. fan. His jaw is clenched as he shakes his head. “Just that I like her.”

  I shrug, still not understanding what the hell he’s getting at. “So ask her out.”

  “It’s not like that.” He slashes his hand through the air. “She’s a friend, okay? But a good one. So just play nice and don’t act like such a dick around her. That’s all.” Mutte
ring under his breath, he turns away.

  Rolling my eyes, I finish getting ready, trying hard not to let the demons knocking on my door crash through. Not yet. Tonight I just want to forget. Sink deep into an eighty-proof fog and pretend that for once I’m normal. Just a normal man who doesn’t need to do this to feel alive.

  My hands shake when I pat my shirt down.

  Traffic headed toward Sixth Street is crazy. Like always. But somehow we finally make it there. The street is one big party. Anyone and everyone who lives in Austin knows the only place to party is Sixth. The city closes down the entire section of street after nine. Already college kids are gathered outside the neon glare of the bar lights. Music thumps hot and hard through the door, sounding like liquid sex.

  Girls smile at me as I shove my hands into my jeans. I’m not looking to get laid tonight, so I ignore them.

  It’s obvious when we draw close to the Pink Lady. The techno music is replaced by the smoky strains of jazz and bassy blues. The silhouette of a neon woman in pink decorates the window. The blinds are all drawn.

  I’ve been here a couple times but have never stayed long. This isn’t really my scene. If I want to watch a woman dance, I prefer to see her take everything off. Still, when I flash my card, a shot of adrenaline speeds my pulse.

  Alex is scanning the crowd; a second later a huge grin splits his face. I frown—he seems really excited. I don’t actually recall ever seeing him act like this about a woman.

  He isn’t exactly a player, but he isn’t the domestic type, either.

  So I look around, following his gaze, and it’s like someone just pulled the floor out from under me. A petite Hispanic woman is walking toward him with an equally large smile on her face.

  Her hair is dark and silky, glinting under the dim red lights of the bar. It spills down her back in a graceful wave. Her body is toned and trim, legs a mile long and encased in a tight pair of red pants. A white top accentuates the bronze of her arms.

  But her face is the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen. Heart-shaped with a tiny cleft in the jaw, full lipped and a short button nose. She stops in front of us, carrying the scent of flowers with her.

  Which is amazing I can even smell that because the bar reeks of scotch and smoke and food.

  Turning green eyes toward me, she smiles. “Hi, I’m Liliana.”

  Chapter Four

  Liliana

  We slide into a corner booth. I’d gotten here thirty minutes ago and was able to snag the choicest seats right next to the stage. My friends keep throwing looks at me, giving me the thumbs-up sign as they walk by. They think this is a date.

  It isn’t.

  Still, I couldn’t help feeling a little frazzled when I’d laid eyes on Alex’s cousin.

  Hot.

  Not like “oh, he’s kinda cute.” But hot as in H.O.T. I want to strip off my clothes, and yours, lay you out and do things to you I haven’t done to anyone in years. The reaction had been so swift and violent it’d crippled me. So I’d mumbled a stupid hello and turned around before I could even give him a chance to respond.

  But I can’t stop looking at him. Alex keeps smiling, rubbing his leg along mine good-naturedly as we pack into the booth like a bunch of sardines. They have me in the middle. Which means I’m sitting tight to the cousin’s side.

  What’s his name?

  Why hasn’t Alex introduced him already?

  “Looking good, Lili Bean.” Alex wiggles his brows, throwing an arm behind my shoulders.

  I laugh, already feeling a million miles away from the stress and headache of home. “Does he always flirt like this?” I look at his cousin.

  I don’t know why. Honestly, I’m not just trying to be polite by including him in the conversation, I just really want to talk to him.

  Something about him keeps nagging at the back of my mind, some familiarity, like I’ve seen him before.

  His hair is short, but still long enough to see the wave in it. His jaw is razor sharp and square; a light dusting of stubble dots his cheeks. My heart is beating so fast it’s going to jump out of my throat soon.

  It’s not so much what he’s wearing either. Just jeans and a white shirt, but the way the shirt clings to him… my stomach clenches. He’s way more muscular than Alex, definitely a weight lifter. Though he’s a little shorter. Which I kind of like. Alex is cute, but I don’t think I could ever date a guy almost two feet taller than me—I’d have to crawl up his body just to kiss him.

  No, Cousin is definitely more my speed.

  Turning dark blue eyes on me, he shrugs only slightly. “I guess.”

  Feeling like an idiot, recognizing immediately the signs that he wants to keep his distance, I give him a tight smile and shift in my seat. Enough to let him know I got the message.

  Besides, I don’t flirt.

  Right.

  Not me.

  Swallowing the thick knot in my throat, I lift a hand.

  Monique comes gliding up as if on cue. “Heya, chica.” Her dark mocha skin gleams like polished ebony. She likes to slather herself in cream and glitter before shift, claiming it helps her get noticed and makes her more tips.

  I haven’t been brave enough to try it, kind of always liking to blend into the background.

  “What’ll you have? It’s Valentine’s Day. Gabe’s made NY strips and roasted fingerling potatoes,” she says.

  “Mmm, sounds good.” My stomach grumbles at the thought of Gabe’s food. Gabe is a master chef. Literally. He used to cook in some of the hippest steak houses in NY and San Francisco, but born and bred Texans usually want to find their way home and he’d been no exception.

  Alex nods. “Yeah. And whatever special’s on tap tonight.”

  Monique smiles, giving Alex more than just a cursory glance. She’s mentally undressing him, and why not—Alex isn’t hard on the eyes. Plus, he’s a helluva lot nicer than the wall of stone sitting beside me.

  “What about you, sugar?” Monique drips southern saccharine sweet, laying it on so thick it’s almost embarrassing.

  He never even looks up. “Screwdriver.”

  Looking a little put out, Monique mouths at me “wow” before saying out loud, “Sure, whatever you’d like.”

  Feeling the need to apologize after that, I smile. “Who’s on tonight?”

  “Asia.” Pursing her lips, she turns and heads back to the kitchen.

  Alex has his eyes closed and is rubbing his forehead.

  No wonder he hadn’t been looking forward to this night, not with the great big ball of happy sitting next to me, killing the mood.

  I rub his arm and smile when he looks at me. “Asia’s really good. You’ll like her.”

  Alex nods. He doesn’t say anything, but I know he understands I’m telling him it’s okay, and no matter what his cousin says or does, I’ll stick to him like glue.

  Dinner comes and it’s better than I’d anticipated. The potatoes drip butter, the steak is tender, and the show is wild.

  Asia’s really on it tonight.

  A very trim, Asian, she wears a fiery-orange feathered headdress. Her feather fan is red, and every time she moves you almost feel like you’re watching a fire dancer.

  The men are enraptured all around. Even Alex. His eyes are huge, pupils dilated, his mouth slightly ajar. The only one who seems unaffected by the naughty striptease is Muscles.

  He barely glances up, doesn’t touch his food, just sits and drinks like an automaton. I’m not sure how many he’s had at this point, but I’m thinking a lot. I like to nurse my beers. I’m only on my second, Alex on his third.

  We’ve been here almost two hours already. Muscles is chugging the screwdrivers down like they’re water. Normally the Pink Lady has a cutoff. But he’s with me and maybe they assume I’ll be the one taking him home.

  Not a chance in hell.

  After tonight, I’m really liking Alex more and more. He’s fun and carefree and goofy. Just what I want, need, in my life right now… but we both know i
t won’t work between us. Maybe that’s why it’s so easy to laugh and talk with him.

  Trying not to worry about how many drinks Cousin has had, I focus all my attention on Alex and eventually manage to forget about Buzzkill.

  After a while a redhead walks up to our table. Her smile’s as crooked as her steps. She wears a low black dress and high heels. Leaning in, the smell of alcohol strong on her breath, she says, “I’ve seen you in Chai Time, haven’t I?”

  She isn’t looking at me.

  Alex’s grin is lazy as he leans back. “Yup.”

  Red hiccups and then turns to me. “You guys a thing?”

  “A thing?”

  Alex covers my hand with his large, warm one. “No. Though I keep trying, she keeps turning me down.”

  I mock-pout. “Oh, c’mon, Alex, you know my heart belongs to someone else.”

  For the first time tonight I notice a reaction come out of his cousin. He looks at me. I pretend not to see it.

  But it isn’t easy. Even though he hasn’t said more than three words to me, I’m aware of him. Too aware. Of the way his body moves, the way his large fingers curl around the glass in his hand. How his throat works as he swallows.

  Finally I can’t stop myself, I look back. Briefly. Just a drive-by, but his look makes my knees weak and I’m grateful to be sitting.

  “I know, I know… but I’ll never stop trying,” Alex continues, completely oblivious to the sudden tension roiling between his cousin and me.

  “Well then,” Red says and hiccups again, “how’s about you come and dance with me, cowboy?”

  Frowning, Alex looks at me as if seeking permission. Which is cute, but not necessary, I’m not under any illusions.

  “Go.” I wave him on.

  His cousin might be an ass, but I doubt he’s going to do anything to me.

  “You’re a saint, Lili Bean.” He kisses my cheek and then scoots out, holding on to the girl’s waist.

  Chuckling softly under my breath, I lean back in my seat. Alex’s eyes are still on me.

  I exhale loudly as every cell in my body becomes intensely aware I’m all alone with Cousin.

  Needing some space, I scoot farther down, but the strange pull is still there in my chest and it’s reaching out to him. Flicking at the paper wrapper on my beer with a fingernail, I watch the crowd.