“You like that?” he said as they started walking again. “Brendan made that one up. I thought it had a nice ring to it . . .”
“Oh it does. So now I know what Brendan thinks about you being a celebrity,” Riley said. “But what about you?”
“What I think is that . . . it’s cool being me.”
“Thank you,” Riley said. “A little honesty.”
“Here’s some more honesty for you,” he said, his voice different. “I don’t even like coffee. I just don’t want you to go.”
Riley glanced at him, but he kept walking, looking straight ahead.
Starbucks was almost deserted. Apart from a couple of sleepy baristas and a man with an old newspaper he was pretending to read, they were alone. While Shawn went to order, Riley glanced at her watch. It was almost one a.m. If she wanted to maintain even a shred of her professional distance, she would leave after a couple sips of coffee.
Shawn returned with fruit juice for himself and a coffee for her. Riley meticulously ripped open one of the yellow packets of no-cal sweetener and emptied it into her cup, stirring it slowly with the wooden stick, pretending not to notice that Shawn was staring at her.
Who was she kidding? Her professional distance had fallen to pieces at his feet hours earlier. He popped the top off the bottle and sipped from it, leaning back, his eyes still fixed on her face.
“Come back to my hotel with me,” he said.
Riley sat very still, not blinking. Not breathing.
“You look surprised,” he said when after a moment she still hadn’t spoken.
“I am.”
Shawn shook his head slowly. “No you’re not.”
He pushed his bottle of fruit juice across the table toward her. “Taste this.”
Riley lifted the bottle, grateful for a distraction.
“Kiwi,” she said. “One of my favorites.” She took a sip. It was sweet, tangy and delicious.
“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Shawn said. “But I want to spend the night with you.”
“I tasted yours. So taste mine.” She slid her coffee cup in his direction.
“No thanks. Coffee just tastes bitter to me.”
“It’ll make your juice that much sweeter afterward,” she pointed out.
Shawn looked at her for a moment then took a tentative sip of her coffee. Riley laughed at the look on his face.
He took another quick swig of his juice to wash the coffee away.
“You’re right,” he said. “It was sweeter. But you’re avoiding my question.”
“Was there a question? I didn’t hear one.”
“Will you spend the night with me?”
Before she could respond, he had leaned forward and put a hand at the back of her neck, gently pulling her across the table toward him. His lips were warm, soft. When his tongue met hers, she could taste an amalgamation of their evening together: an underlying spiciness from their meal, the bitter barley of the Red Stripe beer, a hint of coffee bean and finally the sweetness of kiwi. It was a brief, sweet and softly persuasive kiss, and like everything else about him, so unexpected. Riley leaned back in her chair and smiled. When he smiled back, she actually got goose bumps.
The hotel lobby was almost deserted when they entered and they rode the elevator up to the twenty-first floor in silence, standing close to each other, their arms barely touching. When Shawn unlocked the door to his suite, the curtains had been pulled open and the panoramic view of Manhattan at night was breathtaking. Riley walked over to the wall of windows and stood looking down and across at the city.
“Amazing view of the Brooklyn Bridge from here,” she said.
“Yeah it’s great.” He sounded utterly uninterested in the view.
Until he spoke, she didn’t realize he was so close. His breath was warm on her cheek. Then his hands were on her shoulders, and she turned to face him. When she tilted her head backward he kissed her again, but it was very different than the kiss in the coffee shop. That kiss had been an exploration; this one a prelude. Riley reached up and wrapped her arms about his neck. It felt like she’d been waiting for this all evening, and in a way, maybe she had.
They stood there for awhile kissing, and her hands seemed to move on their own, exploring his chest and back. She reached down so she could feel his bare skin under his shirt. His stomach was smooth and firm; Riley’s fingers followed a soft line of hair that disappeared where the waistband of his pants began. Just as she reached down to tug at his belt, he raised his head and slowly pushed her back into the bedroom and toward the bed.
Riley didn’t know what she expected, but it wasn’t this; that he would carefully, almost reverentially remove each piece of her clothing and kiss the parts of her newly revealed. He was so deliberate and so gentle that soon she was arching her hips toward him, reaching out to peel his shirt aside so she could feel him against her.
When he was naked Shawn stood and left her on the bed for a moment and she could see him, silhouetted by the light from the next room, firmly muscled and sleek and beautiful. He returned and sank between her legs like a sigh. For a minute, he was still, his breath warm on her neck and Riley felt the fullness of him, deep inside her, her muscles involuntarily gripping and releasing him.
Shawn groaned and his mouth was on hers again and then he moved, slowly at first until she matched his rhythm. When their tempo and intensity increased, he wrapped his arms about her and rolled over so that she was on top, her thighs locked about his hips.
The suite was warm and in no time they were both slick with perspiration tumbling over and under and next to each other, hopelessly tangled in the sheets until Shawn cast them aside. They didn’t stop for what seemed like forever until finally, Riley cried out her release. When Shawn moved she dug her fingers into his shoulders.
“No,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “Don’t.”
So he was still, his eyes locked with hers until the tension dissipated and he began to move again, bringing her back to where she’d been just moments before. This time, he climaxed with her and instead of rolling free as she’d expected, he held her face in both his hands and kissed her.
g
When she awoke, the sky outside was gray. It was almost sunrise. Riley held her breath as she turned to face Shawn.
“Hey,” he said. He was sitting up and had a lit Phillies blunt in his hand that didn’t smell like tobacco.
Riley glanced at the clock nearby. It was just after five a.m. Shawn reached over to put out the cigar he’d been smoking but not before offering it to Riley who shook her head. As he leaned forward, exhaling the last of the pungently sweet smoke, the sheets fell loosely about his naked hips.
“There is no way I’m going to kiss you if you taste like smoke,” she said, drowsily regarding him through half-open eyes.
“I think you want to kiss me anyway,” he said.
They looked at each other for a moment and he leaned into her. When their lips touched, he did taste like smoke, but it was not unpleasant. Far from it. He slid downward so their chests were pressed against each other and Riley pulled back, exhaling deeply.
“Wow,” she laughed softly. “Still.”
“Still what?” he asked, pressing his lips to hers once again.
“You know that feeling?” she said. “That feeling when you want someone, when you really, really want them, but before you have them? I’ve still got that feeling.”
“You do?”
He shifted his attention to her neck and Riley felt the breath catch in her throat. She could stay here all morning, and afternoon and into the evening. She could drown in this man if she let herself.
“I do,” she said, her breathing still uneven. “It’s weird, right? Because you’d think that after last night . . .”
“Riley,” he stopped her mid-sentence. “Not everything was meant to be analyzed. Y’know?”
“Why not? If I find it interesting, I analyze it.”
“You find me interesting?”
<
br /> “Yes. But not just you. This.” She traced a finger along his arm and watched as goose bumps rose on his flesh. “See?”
He smiled at her then, as though she’d scored a point at his expense. “Chemistry,” he said. “It’s a crazy thing.”
Over his shoulder she saw that it was growing even lighter outside. Soon it would be bright. Things would look very different then. She would be reminded that this wasn’t a date that had gone particularly well, this was in fact Riley Terry, surrendering her professionalism in spectacular fashion.
And there was something else. Something she had inexplicably put completely out of her mind until just that very second.
She sat up, reaching for her bra.
“What’re you doing?” he asked as she snapped it on.
“Getting dressed.” She lowered her feet to the floor and stood, looking through the sheets for her top. “Have you seen my shirt?”
“What’s the rush?”
“I have to go,” she insisted. “It’s almost morning.”
“So all of a sudden you’re sorry you came up here.”
She stopped her search and sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, looking right at him, smiling.
“No. I’m not sorry I came up,” she said realizing as she did that it was true. “Not at all. It’s just that I have work.”
“So be a little late for work. Get back in here.”
He threw back the sheets and patted the space next to him on the bed. Riley averted her gaze, shaking her head.
“I really have to go, Shawn.”
“I’ll holla at you later then.”
“Maybe,” she said, “we should just leave it at this.”
He narrowed his eyes, looking as confused as though she’d suddenly spoken to him in an entirely different language.
She looked at him. “The thing of it is, I’m with somebody.”
He leaned back into the pillows. “You’re with somebody,” he repeated.
Riley pulled her pants on and crouched to look for her shoes. “I know how that sounds, especially after . . . everything. But . . .” She gave up trying to explain – how could she when she didn’t even understand it herself?
Shawn watched as she stood in front of the mirror, running her fingers through her hair and was still watching her when she finally turned around, ready to go.
“You in love or something?” he asked finally. There was a mocking note in his voice that she didn’t too much appreciate.
“I didn’t say that. Just that I’m with somebody.”
He leaned back against the headboard but said nothing more. He still seemed to be processing this new information when Riley turned toward the door pausing to look back at him one last time.
“Have a good show in Baltimore. And . . . you take care.”
He didn’t answer and so she left, shutting the door quietly behind her.
g
“So how was it?”
Riley froze at the question and reached down to glance through the menu, hoping it covered for her inordinately long hesitation.
“Your interview,” Brian prompted. “How’d it go?”
“Oh. It was fine,” she looked up and gave him a quick smile then turned away to get the attention of their waiter. “You ready to order?”
“I always get the same thing,” Brian said. “So tell me what it was like being around rap royalty. Was Russell Simmons there?”
Riley laughed, in spite of herself. “No, Russell Simmons was not there. It was a crowded, noisy nightclub full of nineteen year olds. Ahm, I’m thinking maybe I’ll get the duck curry to change things up a bit.”
“But you went someplace else for the interview, right? Where was it? Like Nobu or . . .”
“No, we went to Pepper Island. He didn’t strike me as the Nobu type to be honest.”
Then the waiter arrived and Riley was relieved to be talking about Vietnamese summer rolls instead. Once he was gone, however, Brian seemed to want to resume grilling her for information.
“So what type was he?”
“You sound like you want me to fix you up with him,” Riley teased. “It’s not like you even listen to rap. All I’ve ever heard you listen to is neo-soul.”
“I’m just curious, that’s all. He’s one of the few who stays out of trouble. Seems like he might be smarter than most of them.”
“Well, I can confirm that he does seem pretty smart. But in most other respects, he was completely what you would expect.”
The lie tasted bitter on her tongue and she regretted it immediately. From what she’s seen he was nothing at all like you would expect. But it wasn’t like she knew Shawn at all – it might be true; it was likely to be true that he was the same as the rest. Certainly one-night stands with random women had to be a staple in his profession and it wasn’t as though she’d broken new ground with him or anything.
And besides, she’d been seeing Brian for two months. He had at least learned some measure of loyalty. More than she had displayed the previous night. Between them there had been none of those awkward conversations about exclusivity, just a seamless blending of lives in an extremely short period of time. He liked the same movies she did, and got the same jokes. They talked about politics, books and music and found to their surprise that in those areas as well, they were more alike than not. He had left a job in finance to go to law school and was busy most evenings studying with other 2Ls but that was fine too.
Riley liked that he was fully occupied with his own ambitions, didn’t expect her to act like a “girlfriend” and was curious about her work instead of threatened by how demanding it was. On this occasion though, she would have preferred to be spared his curiosity. Each question only raised the possibility that she would have to tell another untruth.
“The important thing is that you got enough out of it to write a good story,” Brian said now.
“I think I did,” Riley mumbled.
For the rest of their meal, they talked only about neutral topics and Riley pretended to herself that she wasn’t having trouble looking Brian in the eye.
g
“So let me get this straight – you slept with him after what, just three hours of conversation?”
After dinner, when Brian had to run back to the law library, Riley called Tracy over and they’d opened a bottle of wine.
“It was a little more time than that.”
“Okay. Four hours,” Tracy laughed. “So much for journalistic integrity.”
“You’re supposed to be making me feel better about this, remember?” Riley stepped over her friend’s legs, propped on the coffee table.
Tracy shook her head. “And then you ran out like a scared little girl afterward? That is just classic.”
“I didn’t know what to do! I woke up and all I could think about was how crazy it was that I was even there, and how crazy it was that I wanted to stay.”
“So in spite of your high-minded feminist ideals, you became just another casualty of thug-appeal.” Tracy said. “How hot was he?”
“Pretty damn hot,” Riley said. “And he wasn’t a thug. Not at all. He was actually kind of interesting.”
“A rapper who’s interesting?” Tracy said. “Then he must be the best kept secret in hip hop. And if he was so interesting why’d you high-tail it out of there like that?”
“Brian.”
Tracy nodded. “I forgot about him for a second.”
“I forgot about him for the whole night,” Riley said. “That was what was so terrible. I was vibing with this man and when he touched me it was like . . . I don’t even know how to explain it.”
Tracy was suddenly serious. “And you stayed the whole night?”
“Yeah. At one point we just kind of sat around and talked.”
“What do you talk about with a rapper?” Tracy asked dryly.
“Will you stop it with the ‘rapper’ stuff? We talked about . . .” Riley broke off and laughed. “We talked about the Baltimore Orioles. And
scuba diving. And music. He liked talking about his music. And I talked about the story I’m working on and . . .”
She stopped and smiled.
They had talked a lot, she now remembered. The sex was amazing and at first had overshadowed just about every other memory she had of the evening but now she recalled how their conversation had continued once the first rush of hormones had been dealt with.
For at least two hours, they talked about everything and nothing. And then while he was explaining something – she couldn’t remember now what – she wanted him again so she reached for him and he came to her like they’d been doing this for years.
“Hello? You there?” Tracy was waving a hand in front of her face.
“Y’know what’s awful? Brian literally did not enter my mind the entire evening. Until I woke up naked. I mean, who does that?”
“Well, it’s not like you’ll see him again, right? So no harm, no foul,” Tracy shrugged.
“That’s right,” Riley agreed. “No harm, no foul.”
g
Chapter Two
Shawn watched Riley navigate the tables, her hips swaying to avoid the backs of diners’ chairs as she made her way through the dining room. This time they were meeting in the L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon in the Four Seasons where he had booked a suite. She’d called just as he was checking in to tell him she was late leaving work and was starving, so they agreed to meet in the restaurant for a change.
As usual, she was dressed like a teenage boy, in army-green cargo pants and a white tee-shirt, with a lightweight pea coat. Looped around her neck was a multi-colored scarf that hung well below her knees. On her feet were those black boots; the ones that laced halfway up her shins, were seriously scuffed at the toes and had clearly seen better days. But she was still the sexiest woman in the joint as far as he was concerned.
Shawn stood so she would see him and her face brightened when he came into view. This was not a woman who played it cool. She had no game, and she didn’t care if he knew it. She hugged him, pressing her face to his chest for a moment and inhaling him, then pulled back to run her hand over the stubble on his jaw. It had been a full month since the last time and Shawn wanted to kiss her right then, but instead pulled out a chair into which she collapsed, shedding her coat and that ridiculous messenger sack she called a bag.
Commitment Page 3
