by AJ Nuest
She snorted. “Me, too.” She paused to collect her thoughts, but there was no easy way to say what came next. “He left me at the altar.”
He stopped crunching. His gaze shifted across the upright tray tables to hers.
“Well, not literally at the altar. The day before. At least he had the decency to save me that humiliation. And ever since, I don’t know, I guess I haven’t had it in me to go through it again.” She smiled ruefully. “So when I said ‘it’s me, not you’—as pathetic as that sounds—I was being serious.”
Dibs’s eyes softened around the edges.
She squeezed his arm and relaxed in the companionable quiet between them, pink clouds floating past her window amid the radiant translucent beams of the setting sun.
“So, here’s an idea,” he finally said.
She locked onto the headrest in front of her. “Okay, why do those words strike fear into my heart?”
“Now just hear me out.”
She held a breath and waited.
“Let’s be friends.” He put his palm up, eyebrows elevated.
A high speed train racing out of control screamed across the backdrop of her brain. “Friends,” she repeated.
“I thought you said you liked me.”
“You have your moments.”
“Well, I like you, too. So when two people like each other, aren’t they usually friends?”
She frowned. “I guess…”
“Well, okay then.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, I’m not sure that’s going to work.”
“Why not?”
“We-e-elll…” Twirling her hand, she glanced around the cabin. “In case you’ve forgotten, we’ve already had sex. Twice, if you’re counting.”
“And?”
“Don’t you think that might make the whole friends thing a bit uncomfortable?”
“How so?”
“Men are so strange.” She dropped her forehead into her palm.
He twisted his shoulders in the seat. “Look, if we make what happened at the hotel an issue, then you’re right, it’ll be an issue. But if we choose to move past it and be friends, I don’t see why that won’t work as well.”
“Wait a second.” She squinted, wagging a finger at him. “I’m getting the sneaking suspicion you might be suggesting this to try and fly in under the radar.”
He peered at her from under his brows. “I think I can resist you.”
“Oh, really.”
“Yes. Besides, I’m perfectly happy being in the friend zone.”
Oh, come on. He had to be yanking her chain. “You mean like real friends.”
“Yes.”
“Like, you can call me to come over because you’re having some sort of a crisis, friends.”
He tipped his head back and forth, the corners of his lips turned down. “Yes.”
“And I have to bring pizza and chocolate-chip cookie dough ice cream, friends.”
“Or in my case, scotch.” He raised his glass.
“Hmmm…” She considered his idea a moment. Certainly worse things could happen than having a nice guy like Dibs watch her back. “I guess that sounds okay.”
He slid away from her across the seat. “You guess that sounds okay? Am I really that awful?”
She laughed. “It actually sounds nice, Dibs, really.”
“Great, because I could use a good friend.”
She slowly nodded. “I guess I could, too.”
“Well, that settles it then.” He reclined against the headrest and folded his hands over his stomach. “Friends it is.”
The engines continued their monotonous hum while she hit rewind and replayed their conversation, accompanied by flashes of their night in the hotel. Never again would she view a piece of chocolate cake in the same light.
She pursed her lips. “So…that’ll be weird.”
“What?”
“When someone asks ‘how’d you two meet.’ ”
He grimaced. “We might have to come up with something different there.”
“Or we could just say we met at LaGuardia and leave it at that.”
“Leave out all the gory details, huh?”
“Gory details?”
Their eyes locked a moment before their laughter mingled. And in that moment, initiating a friendship with Dibs seemed like the nicest idea she’d been presented in a very long time.
A smile still curving his lips, his eyelids fluttered closed as he dropped his head to the seat. A few seconds later, Tessa retrieved her briefcase and paged through the client proposal, making notes on the off-chance any of the big-wigs called over the weekend with additional questions.
“What are you doing?”
She lifted her chin to find him studying her. “Just going over this presentation from earlier today.”
“Did you have another meeting in New York?”
“Yep.” She jotted a quick reminder in the margin.
“How’d it go?”
“Great, actually. We’re supposed to hear back on Monday.”
“Oh, good.” He paused. “Who’d you say the client was again?”
“I didn’t. BFG Investments.”
A glimmer of something…recognition, maybe…flitted through his gaze. “Really? That’s my father’s company—Brenner Financial Group Investments.”
She flinched in her seat. Wait a second…That information seemed a little too far-fetched to be mere coincidence. And then she remembered the unease in his eyes when they’d been at the bar and she’d mentioned the pitch. Now his reaction made sense, especially given the current tension in his family. “And your role at the company is?”
He huffed. “None. But I’d be happy to put in a good word.”
His suggestion was wrong on so many levels, she didn’t even know where to start. Not the least of which would be risking TNT’s reputation within a family dynamic that already teetered precariously off balance. She returned to her notes. “Don’t you dare.”
“Why not?”
Using the tip of her pen to hold her spot on the page, she shelved all further discussions on the topic with a hard stare. “If you say one word to anyone, we’re going to have another fight. And it’ll be huge.”
A small smile tipped his lips. “Want to succeed on your own and all that?”
“Exactly.” She skimmed the rest of the paragraph and flipped the page, and with the subject of Dibs’s interference firmly put to rest, soon became immersed in work.
Sometime later, the plane tilted downward. The captain’s voice murmured through the cabin, instructing the flight attendants to begin their landing preparations.
“Have you eaten today?” Dibs asked.
“I had a muffin this morning.” She gathered her materials and slipped them back into her briefcase.
“After we land, let’s get some dinner.”
She hesitated. But wasn’t that what friends did? Share some pleasant conversation and a nice meal? She smiled. “Why thank you, Dibs. That would be lovely.”
Chapter Six
Dawn arrived with a wink and a smile, the playful scent of spring urging Tessa out of bed early to greet the sun. The two days away from the office had her on disconnect, and she was anxious to go through her desk, make sure nothing had fallen through the cracks. Dressed in khakis and her favorite black sweater set, she opted to walk the five city blocks to her office so she could bask in the brilliant spring air and cheerful skip of her heart.
She had pleasantly surprised herself, agreeing to a friendship with Dibs. But considering what a gentleman he had been at dinner, his easy smile and charming wit making the conversation pass quickly, having her very own friend seemed like a nice right idea—especially since they’d agreed to forego any romantic entanglements. Dibs was smart, and he made her laugh. She couldn’t ask for two better qualities in someone she planned to spend time with.
At the end of the block, she stopped and frowned into the street. Wait…what? How the heck had she passe
d right by her office building? She pivoted on her heel and headed back toward the front door.
After exiting the elevator on the seventeenth floor, she was startled to find the office lights on and the door unlocked.
“What are you doing here on a Saturday?” She entered Tiffany’s office and sat in a chair opposite her desk.
“You didn’t call last night.” Tiffany dropped her pen and stretched, hands linked, palms aimed at the ceiling.
“I know, sorry. Dibs took me to dinner and I didn’t get home until late.”
The chair creaked as she sprang forward, shaking her head. “What did you say?”
Tessa laughed, and then proceeded to fill in the details regarding her return flight to Chicago, finishing with how she and Dibs had spent the evening together at dinner. “It was nice. He kept the conversation going so I never got uncomfortable, and I don’t know—it was pleasant, you know?” She unbuttoned her long-sleeved sweater and tossed it to the arm of the chair.
“Pleasant,” Tiffany said, deadpan.
“Something about him just puts me at ease. I’m glad we decided to be friends. I think it might work out nicely for both of us.”
“Friends.” She studied Tessa across the desk. Curiosity crumpled her brow. “What was it like when he dropped you off at your condo?”
“We exchanged business cards, and then he said ‘I’ll call you later’ and I got out of the car.”
Tiffany’s hair billowed to the sides when she slapped a hand to her forehead. “Tessa, you’re the only woman I know who could have earth-shattering sex with a gorgeous millionaire and then decide to be just his friend.”
She bit her lip. “Weird?”
“I guess that depends on the medications you’re taking.”
She squinted. “You know, that joke wasn’t funny the first time.” She stood and headed for the doorway. “Want to go over the checklist this morning? Only two weeks before Miss Sandburg becomes Mrs. Miller.”
“Sure.”
“Poor thing,” Tessa mumbled, crossing through reception.
Noon arrived by the time they’d gone over all the details, and though Tiffany extended an invitation to tag along on her lunch date with Kevin, Tessa declined. She still hadn’t organized her desk, and starting the Sandburg invoice while the expenses were still fresh in her mind would make the task that much easier.
The afternoon was spent flipping through receipts, making stacks, and itemizing lists she entered into her computer. When the phone rang, she jumped, and then scowled at her desk clock. Who would be calling to discuss wedding plans after six on Saturday? “TNT Entertainment, this is Tessa.”
“Do you have plans for dinner?”
The deep timbre of Dibs’s voice caressed her ear and she smiled. “Tonight’s entrée? Airplane peanuts.”
“Ah…I’m pretty sure that doesn’t count.”
“Right. But you bought me dinner last night, remember?”
“There’s a limit?”
She laughed. “No, there’s no limit. I just didn’t think I’d hear from you so soon.” Phone braced between her shoulder and ear, she clicked the floral total into the invoice.
“I’m free for dinner, so I thought I’d call and see if you were free. It’s no big deal.”
“Depends,” she said. “What are you in the mood for?”
“So…if I say the wrong thing, you’re not going?”
Another laugh shook her shoulders. Poor guy. But she was serious about them being friends and only friends. And dinner two nights in a row skated toward thin ice territory. Then again…
Another evening with him might present the perfect opportunity to double-check his motives…or at the very least lay down some ground rules. Better that than losing out on his friendship entirely. “With me? One never can tell, Dibs. One can never tell.”
“I’ll pick you up in fifteen.” His smile echoed through the line.
“Make it thirty.” With a quick shake of her head, she dropped the receiver into the cradle.
****
A sleek, black Jaguar slid to the curb. Tessa pushed up from the brick façade of her office building, head lodged to the side as she squinted past the bright sunspot reflecting off the tinted windshield.
She straightened when Dibs stepped from the car, rounded the front, and swung the passenger side door open. “I thought you said thirty minutes.”
“I finished quicker than I expected.” She stopped in front of him, standing inside the open car door.
“You shouldn’t wait outside. Downtown isn’t safe after five on Saturday.”
She rolled her eyes and sat in the car, baring her teeth in a cheesy grin when he slammed the door.
After he’d pulled onto the street, she shifted in her seat, appraising his dark blue slacks, the starched button-down shirt, and gray V-neck sweater. The man dressed to impress. She faced the windshield. “You’re going the wrong way.”
Amusement hinted along his lips as he peeked at her from the corner of his eye. “Where are we going?”
“Venus. Chicken shish kabob.”
He veered right and she clutched the shoulder strap when he executed a tight U-turn and sped in the opposite direction.
What was that? An example of his amazing driving prowess? “You’re going to get a ticket,” she said.
“Well, maybe if you had told me where we were going, I wouldn’t have had to turn around. If I get a ticket, I say you pay for it.”
She sputtered. “If you get a ticket, the only thing I’m paying for is my own dinner—in Greektown—while you plead your case to the officer.”
A grand smile plumped the maître d’s cheeks when they entered the restaurant. He welcomed Dibs by name and shook his hand before leading them directly to a small table in the corner. Once seated, Dibs requested a bottle of wine and a saganaki appetizer, and the rotund man nodded and snapped his fingers in the air.
A waiter rushed over, an open bottle of the selected wine and two chilled glasses in hand. The candlelit ambiance surrounding the private table fairly oozed romance, the clink of fine china and stemware under murmuring conversations completing the enchanting atmosphere.
Tessa cast a shrewd glance at Dibs from her seat adjacent to his. Even though she’d picked the restaurant, he’d apparently been here before. Likely in an effort to charm some anorexic super model…or a glittering starlet. Or both.
She crossed her arms. “So, now that you got me out to dinner again, you want to tell me what’s going on?”
“You need to let it go, Rex.” He flipped open his menu.
“Call me crazy. I just find it hard to believe an eligible bachelor like yourself didn’t already have plans on a Saturday night.”
“My plans got cancelled. And anyway, what about you? Nothing on your schedule this weekend?” He tossed the closed menu onto the table.
“My weekends are usually filled with work-related events.” She selected her menu and perused the entrées. “You caught me right before the spring rush.”
“Well, then, I consider myself a lucky man.”
She arched a brow. How lovely. But the stilted sincerity of that line sounded rehearsed. Coupled with the waitstaff’s watchful attention to keep their water glasses filled, such phrases probably worked wonders on the aforementioned arm candy. “Just a word of advice? You should look into getting some new material.”
He barked a laugh. “That’s why I like you, Rex. You never hesitate to say exactly what’s on your mind.”
She set her menu aside and reached for her wine. Perhaps it was time for ground rule number one. “Isn’t that the point?”
“Of what?”
“Of us being friends. Shouldn’t we be able to say what’s on our minds without worrying about hurting each other’s feelings?”
“I suppose.” Dibs angled away from her, eyelids heavy with suspicion.
“I mean, let’s face it. I don’t think either of us wants or needs a friend that glosses over everything. What�
�ll that get us? Nothing, right? Besides, you’re too smart for it, and frankly, so am I.”
He squinted.
“So if you’re really serious about this friends thing, I think we should agree right now to always tell each other what’s on our minds.”
“Oh, I see where this is headed now.” He nodded. “You didn’t get the answer you were looking for the first time, so you came up with a new way to find out what you wanted to know.”
Dammit! “All I’m saying—”
“That was actually pretty good. Great business strategy. Trick the other guy into agreeing with you, before he can figure out what he’s agreeing to.”
“I would never.” She slapped a hand to her chest.
The waiter arrived bearing a plate of sizzling cheese, and after jotting down their orders, he gathered the menus and left.
Dibs draped his napkin over his leg before offering her the appetizer. “So, basically you’re saying friends can’t go to dinner more than one night in a row.”
“Not at all.” She spooned some molten deliciousness onto her plate.
“What about them?” He tipped his head toward two women having dinner at the next table. “Maybe we should ask them if they’ve already been to dinner this week. They may not know they’re breaking some sort of secret ‘friend code’ you’ve got worked out in your head.”
“Okay, now you’re just being cynical.”
“Or what about those two? Maybe we should let them know.”
She followed his nod to a young man and woman seated a few tables away, their chairs mere inches apart, smiling shyly at one another over their empty plates. “I’m pretty sure they’re more than just friends.”
“Uh huh, and what about those two?” Dibs jerked his chin toward a middle-aged couple, both concentrating on their meals and, based on their lack of conversation, with absolutely nothing to say to each other.
“Married.” She lifted her wineglass. “With children at home being watched by a babysitter. He’s currently thinking about how much their meal’s going to cost and if the bill includes free coffee refills, and she’s worrying about Timmy’s next orthodontic appointment and whether or not the doctor is going to prescribe head gear.”
Dibs froze, eyes wide. He tossed his head back and a deep hearty laugh roared from his throat. He lightly pounded a fist against the table, the crinkles high on his cheeks an adorable accent to the severe cut of his jaw. “You suffered a serious trauma in your formative years, didn’t you?”
