“So will you do it?” Sophia asks.
“I’m sorry,” I answer her. “I didn’t hear what you were asking me.”
She laughs. “I was wondering if you’d be willing to help plan the wedding.”
Hmmm, let’s see … help plan the wedding of an ex who I thought would be the man I would be marrying someday. Um, that would be a big no.
“When is the wedding?” Lisette asks.
She can’t be serious. It’s my turn to poke her in the ribs, but she doesn’t even flinch.
“April fifteenth,” Sophia says with a lilt in her voice.
“Oooh, I’m sorry, Sophia,” Lisette responds with just the right amount of regret in her tone. “But we’re solidly booked from here to next summer.”
Wow! I’m impressed with Lisette’s lie, and I grin from ear to ear in approval as she tilts her head to acknowledge me.
“That’s too bad,” Aiden says while hugging Sophia from behind.
“Yeah, too bad,” she agrees with a sad smile. “I really would have loved to have you do it.”
“I would have loved to help,” I finally say even though I want to laugh like a lunatic at the absurdity of the situation. Of course, that would be after I kick Aiden in the nuts. And maybe stab him in the eye with a dull knife.
“Sophia!” someone yells from the far side of the tent.
“Oh, I have to go,” she quickly says and then extracts herself from Aiden’s embrace. “I’ll catch up with you later. Okay?”
“Sure thing,” I answer with a curt nod.
And then there were three.
“I’ll leave you two to talk,” Lisette abruptly announces and walks away.
And then there were two.
We stare at each other for a few seconds as if in a standoff; there are so many thoughts swirling through my head that I can’t pluck just one out. But if I know Aiden at all, which I really don’t, as proven by his disappearance and sudden reappearance, he’ll have some crap to say about all of this.
“It’s great to see you, Julia.”
“It’s great to see me?” I try the words out slowly. The feel of them on my tongue tastes as bitter as I sound. I hate that I’m still affected by his dismissal of me after all these years. I hate that I’m that girl: jealous and unforgiving and yes, still heartbroken.
He sighs and runs a hand through his short hair. Looking around nervously, he smiles sheepishly at me before taking a step forward. “I don’t know what else to say, but it is great to see you.”
“You don’t know what else to say to me?”
“Did you turn into a parrot since I last saw you?” he quips with a laugh. “The Julia that I knew would at least have something to say.”
I take a moment to gather my thoughts, opening and closing my hands into fists at my sides. I tilt my head to the side when my mind clears and the right words are finally at the ready.
“You no good, son of a bitch, assclown have the balls to think this is cute, don’t you?”
He raises his hands in defense.
“It’s not a question I want you to answer, Aiden.” I roll my eyes. “And as for ‘the old Julia,’ she’s gone. But the new and improved Julia has a ton of things to say to you. Shall I start at how I faked every orgasm? Perhaps I should start with how you disappeared five years ago, never to be seen or heard from again?”
The faking orgasm bit is a total lie. The man knew how to make my body sing like no other has been able to do since, but it gives me a glimmer of happiness to say it anyway. Does that make me a vindictive bitch? Probably. Do I care? No.
“Okay, okay,” he says and reaches out with his hand to grab my arm. He pulls me along to the corner of the tent while whispering, “Do you mind keeping your voice down?”
We come to a stop, and I look down in disgust at his hand still gripping my arm. “Get your fucking hand off of me.”
Aiden does so immediately and looks over his shoulder. Thankfully, Sophia still hasn’t noticed our little tête-à-tête.
“I guess the idea that you could look past this was just a pipe dream, huh?” he asks.
“You know what, Aiden? After tonight I’ll never have to see you again, so why don’t we forget we ever saw each other, and you can go back to whatever rock you crawled out from under.”
I turn on my heel and walk as briskly as possible to the nearest opening in the tent, leaving Aiden behind. The idiot in me who’s a sucker for punishment forces me to look over my shoulder at him. He’s still standing where I left him with a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. God, what I wouldn’t give to smack that look off of his face. But instead, I keep walking, desperately in search of Lisette or alcohol, whichever I find first.
Luckily, she finds me first and gives me a quick once-over. She tells me in no uncertain terms that I am to go home for the night and that she’ll talk to me tomorrow. I’m not going to disagree with her for once either. So with only an hour or so left at this engagement party from hell, I decide she’s absolutely right and leave Lisette in charge.
Walking through the wall of humidity and trying my damndest to not think about Aiden, I finally reach the front of the house and hand my keys off to the valet to wait for my Land Rover to be brought around. While I wait and still not think about Aiden, which means I’m totally thinking about him, I rummage through my purse to find a ponytail holder since my long blond hair is sticking to the back of my neck.
Gathering it all in my hands, I make a messy knot on the top of my head and instantly feel cooler. The night breeze off the ocean only a couple of miles away is finally making itself useful. It would’ve been nice if it had shown up about an hour ago, but you can’t have it all. I cannot wait to get home and wash away the sweat and stink off of me. My signature scent is Christian Dior’s Miss Dior Cherie, but right now it’s more like a mixture of perfume and body odor and not at all pleasant or alluring. And oh my God, don’t even get me started on the swamp ass.
My purse is ginormous, so I can probably find more than Mary fucking Poppins in this thing. I pull out a loose piece of paper to create a makeshift fan and then begin fanning myself as a shiny, cherry-red BMW pulls up to the valet. I snort rather unattractively at the sight, because whoever the hell is arriving to the party is almost two hours late. This I have to see.
A second valet attendant, not to be confused with the one who is currently out searching somewhere near the Sphinx for my vehicle, steps forward to open the passenger-side door. Out unfurl two very nicely shaped, tanned, long legs attached to a rather good-looking chick, if I do say so myself. Brunette, guessing about average height, on the skinny side, wearing a Marc Jacobs pleated dress that is color-blocked in black and white, showing off a lot of skin—tastefully, of course, and as only Marc Jacobs can because the man is pure genius. I was eyeing the same dress last week at Nordstrom’s. Lucky bitch.
Whatever, like you wouldn’t be thinking the same thing.
Trying not to attract any attention to myself while I stare longingly at her outfit, I scoot to my left and try to blend in with the plant life. The driver of the BMW steps out. Lo and behold, there he is, Bruce Wayne himself. Or as I know him: Alex.
Really? Now, here, of all places, when I look like shit on a shingle and I’m feeling like a complete scatterbrain thanks to Aiden?
I duck my head before he can notice me, but as luck would have it, the expedition to find my car finally ends, and it appears directly behind his. The attendant gets out of my car and starts looking for me at the same time Alex decides to walk around the hood of his car to hand his keys over to the other attendant. My sorry attempt to hide can’t last much longer when the valet guy finally spots me and whistles to get my attention.
“Dude, I can totally see you. Whistling is so not necessary,” I say quietly while clenching my teeth. Especially since everyone is now looking in my direction, Alex included.
Oh well, here goes nothing.
Craptastic fan in hand, I step out of the shadows an
d walk over to my car like I own the joint while keeping my eyes trained on the “Whistling Dixie” valet.
“Julia?” I hear Alex’s deep, velvety voice loud enough that I can’t even think about pretending that I don’t.
Turning my head as I unwillingly hand over a tip to the valet, I see Alex already making his way over to me in a few elegant strides. Yes, that’s right, I said elegant. The man practically glides when he walks. It’s lovely, and obviously I’ve paid too much attention to it before to be able to categorize it as such. And dear Lord, he looks delicious. He’s wearing what could only be a tailor-made black suit, but no tie, and the top button is undone on his crisp white dress shirt.
He flashes me his dimples when he steps right in front of me, crowding my personal space. “Were you really not going to say hello to me?”
“Alex! Oh my God, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that was you,” I say, doing my best at feigning ignorance.
“Bullshit.”
“Like I would ignore you? Please, what kind of person do you think I am?”
“The kind of person who was ignoring me,” he quickly answers.
“Did I hurt your feelings?”
His crystal-blue eyes light up in amusement, and he leans in an inch so that he’s a little closer while putting one hand over his heart. “I’m crushed.”
With him being so close, I take in the wonderful smell that is Alex: a cocktail of perfectly blended amounts of sandalwood and the beach and something else that eludes me. Whatever it is, it’s heavenly. Then it hits me—I’m sure the stink emanating from me is infiltrating his nostrils, so I take a small step backward just as I hear a woman’s annoyed voice coming from somewhere behind him.
“Alex, what are you doing?”
His smile vanishes, and he smoothly pulls back to stand up straight and turns around to face the direction of the woman he arrived with. She’s far too young to be with him, and yes that might be jealousy rearing its ugly head, which when added to the stress of facing my ex again makes me more testy than usual.
“Do you know her?” she asks, clearly bothered by his actions. Can’t say that I blame her. If I were her and my date was all up in some other woman’s grill, I’d be a little peeved too.
“Marisa, this is Julia, a very good friend of mine,” Alex clarifies for her. Then he turns his attention back to me and says, “Julia, this is my friend Marisa.”
Oh, Alex, you have no idea the mess you’ve just made. If Miss Teen USA has any sense, she would have picked up on the fact that he said “good friend” when he spoke about me and “friend” when he described his relationship with her. Although, I have to admit, I find it to be rather intriguing that he would identify us like that for her benefit—or maybe he did it for mine? See what I mean? He’s totally an enigma.
“Alex,” she coos while wrapping herself around his arm, “I thought I was your good friend.”
Yup, she picked up on it without missing a beat.
She giggles, and I swear the sound makes me want to vomit. Alex, in turn, has a tight smile on his face and looks uncomfortable while shifting his weight from foot to foot. Me? I just want to get the hell out of Dodge.
“It’s nice to meet you,” she says with a bright smile and way too enthusiastically before extending her hand to me.
I grab it and give it a firm shake. “Hi, Marisa, it’s nice to meet you too.”
Her eyes scan me from head to toe and back again dismissively as if she were Joan Rivers from Fashion Police. With that move, she’s officially made it onto my shit list.
“So,” she says, “how exactly do you know the Grandersons?”
“I don’t.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because.”
I know I’m being purposely evasive, but now I’m having too much fun making Alex more uncomfortable by the minute. Plus, I don’t like her knowing too much about me. Call it women’s intuition, but something about her just rubs me the wrong way.
Marisa lets out a dry laugh. “My, my, aren’t we mysterious?”
“I could say the same about you. Alex has never mentioned you before. Have you, Alex?” Turning my gaze back to him, he tries to hide the smirk that is threatening to crack the corners of his mouth.
He clears his throat before saying, “Marisa is an old friend of the family.”
“An old friend? Well, now you’re just being silly, Alex,” she says, trying to play it off like he didn’t just diss her right in front of me again.
“Alrighty then, you two kids have a great night and try not to be too silly with each other. I’ve gotta get on home. It was nice meeting you, Marisa. Alex … I’ll see you Friday night.”
I couldn’t help myself; I had to throw that last dig out just to see if she’d catch it. By the look of irritation on her face, I’d say she did and is currently trying to figure out why the hell he’s going to be seeing me on Friday night.
As I walk around the hood of my car, I can tell she’s whispering something to him, but when he answers her back, I can hear it clear as a bell. “I’ll tell you later, Marisa.”
Throwing my jumbo purse haphazardly onto the passenger seat before slamming the door, I shoot one last glance over at Alex, who is trying to steer Marisa toward the party. He runs his hand through his dirty blond hair and then looks over his shoulder in my direction while sporting a devilish grin.
Such a flirty bastard. Ugh … and I’m a total sucker for it every single time.
Not more than five minutes into my drive home, my cell phone dings, alerting me of a text. While stopped at a red light, I fish it out of my purse and unlock the screen to see a new text from Alex.
Payback’s a bitch, you know?
I quickly shoot off a text back, playing it off like I’m clueless. I love this little cat-and-mouse game with him. It’s entirely too much fun. Not to mention that it takes my mind off of Aiden.
Payback for what?
Just as the light turns green, my phone beeps again with another text from him.
You’ve been a bad girl, and I’m going to have to teach you a lesson.
When I reach the next red light, I grab the phone and stare at the screen in a daze because that right there might have crossed into the point of no return. You don’t see me complaining, but I’m kind of surprised and not exactly sure how I should answer him. What the fuck does he mean, “teach me a lesson”? Is he going to put me across his knee and slap my ass with a ruler? Is it wrong that the thought of that has me so turned on right now that I want to turn my car around and climb his body like Mount Everest?
My phone beeps again while in my hands with another text from Alex.
Cat got your tongue?
With my heart racing and my stomach doing a somersault, I type out an answer. Two can play this game.
No, I’m just looking forward to it …
My high is short-lived when he responds so quickly this time, it’s scary.
I know you are ;)
Well played, Mr. Holt, well played. For the first time in God knows how long, I’m left speechless. Now I’m just wondering what the hell I’ve gotten myself into.
CHAPTER FOUR
Standing before my full-length mirror, I take one last look at myself before heading to the Art Gallery. It’s taken me almost a whole hour just to decide on this dress. It’s a halter, fifties-pinup-style dress in a deep red, very reminiscent of Marilyn Monroe’s famous white subway dress. So the front dips down a little to show off some of the goods. My hair, which has taken me the better part of the afternoon to finish, is in waves and pinned to one side so that most of my bare back is exposed. I don’t even want to delve into why I’m all of a sudden so worried about how I look tonight. Okay, maybe I do. I’ll give you one guess. His name starts with the letter A.
No, not him. I don’t even want to discuss or think too much about him … Aiden. Because as much as I hate to admit it, the guy has been in the back of my mind since I saw him a couple of nights ago, bu
zzing around like an annoying fly. And what gets me even more irritated is that the more I think about Aiden, the more I come up with better things I should have said to him when I had the chance the other night. Don’t you hate that? The best one-liners always come to you after you actually need them.
Anyway, enough about Aiden since the other guy whose name starts with the letter A is the reason why it’s taken me this long to get ready.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m so busted. I must be crazy, because first of all, there’s still that whole mess Alex had with Sabrina last year, but now there’s this new thing with Marisa. But flirting is harmless, right? I mean, it’s not like anything is going to happen between us, so why not just play along and enjoy the ride? If anything, it will provide me with at least a fuck-ton of fantasies to hold me over until I decide to get back into the saddle again. At least that’s what I keep telling myself as I adjust “the boys.”
“The boys” are what I affectionately call my breasts, and I currently have them showing off some nice cleavage in this dress. Well, the right amount of cleavage and in a totally tasteful manner because I’m not trying to look like a hooker walking the streets. It’s a well-proven fact that men fall under one of two categories: tits or ass men. I felt it was time I find out which one of those two categories Alex falls into. My money is on tits, hence the cleavage.
The opening itself doesn’t start until seven, but I always arrive at an event I’m handling about an hour earlier to double-check that everything is in place. When I pull into the gallery parking lot at just past six o’clock after dealing with Miami traffic—and if you haven’t had the pleasure of dealing with Miami during rush hour, consider yourself blessed—I’m already in a bad mood.
It would be important to point out that I have not spoken to Alex since we had that super-flirtatious text exchange a couple of nights ago, so I’m not sure what to expect. We’ve flirted and had witty repartee countless times before, but I’m still not sure how what occurred the other night will affect our friendship. Plus, when you throw Miss Teen USA into the mix, well, I could be facing a clusterfuck of epic proportions.
Playing It Safe Page 3
