by Mia Sosa
“At a tech gala where a bunch of techies will talk tech. You’ll have to forgive me for not signing up this minute.”
“I’ll take you home with me and thank you for your time.”
She whistled. “Breaking out the big guns, huh?”
“One gun in particular.”
“So subtle. When will you pick me up?”
“Six thirty. Bring an overnight bag. I’d like you to stay the night. We’ll talk then.” The words tumbled out before his brain could catch up and retract them. He could pretend his dick was running the show, but he knew his dick had no interest in sleepovers. Which meant what, exactly? Fuck it. He didn’t care to examine his motivations any further. “So yeah, I have to go, but I’m looking forward to Saturday. Good night, Karen.”
“Good night, Mark. Thanks for calling. I know I gave you a hard time, but I’m really glad you called.”
He swore he could hear the smile in her voice; it reached through the phone and brightened his dark hotel room. Yeah. He was in trouble.
* * *
Karen turned sideways and inspected her reflection in the mirror as she debated whether to wear Spanx. She took a deep breath and sucked in her stomach for as long as she could, blowing out air only after she risked turning blue. Spanx would have been nice, but if she and Mark had sex that evening, the process of getting the contraption off her would turn into a tug of war. Plus, she wasn’t feeling well—nervousness, she supposed—and being squeezed to death by a spandex boa constrictor wouldn’t help matters. No Spanx.
Mimi had come through for her with a stunning dress. The steel blue one-shoulder gown hugged Karen’s curves and gave the illusion that her breasts defied gravity. It featured a cowl back with a clever strip of trim that allowed her to wear a bra without disturbing the open-backed design. A silver clutch and silver peep toe shoes completed the ensemble.
The buzzer for her apartment sounded. She pressed the intercom button. “Yes?”
“Karen, it’s Mark.”
“Hi, Mark. Come on up.”
After she buzzed him in, Karen fussed with her hair one more time. Her thick locks would never hold a chignon without numerous cans of hairspray, so she’d left her hair loose, a single crystal clip holding it back on one side.
Mark rang the doorbell, and she opened the door. They stared at each other, and she held on to the door for support as she got her first look at him. He’d gone for a classic black tuxedo and bow tie, and the jacket fit his broad shoulders perfectly. The rich fabric of the tux contrasted with the delicate silk on the lapels. He’d draped a silver silk scarf around his neck, which begged for her to take its ends and tug him to her. So she did. “You look handsome.”
His eyes, dark and assessing, softened. “I’m not sure any words could describe how incredible you look. I want to kiss you so badly right now.”
“Let’s take this inside, then,” she said as she pulled him into the apartment.
As soon as she closed the door, he whipped her around and pressed her against it. His lips swept over hers, seeking entrance, and when she parted her lips, he licked his way inside her mouth. The taste of him, a hint of coffee chased away by peppermint, intoxicated her. She cradled his jaw with her hands and melded her body to his, wanting to get as close as she could to him.
He broke away and lowered his mouth over her bare shoulder. Her legs wobbled like they were made of gelatin, so she grabbed on to his waist for support.
“We have to go,” he murmured against her shoulder.
“Yes, I know.”
“Do you have a bag ready?”
She pointed to her bag, which she’d set on the floor by the couch. “My walk-of-shame rescue pack is ready to go.”
He picked the bag up and held her hand. “Let’s go then. I want to be sure you get to use it.”
* * *
Karen couldn’t contain her awe as she walked up the stairs of the Andrew Mellon Auditorium. With its limestone façade and terra-cotta-tiled roof, it resembled a museum—or a place where people conducted important business—and it intimidated the hell out of her. Inside, however, the event organizers had transformed the austere space, projecting a starry night sky onto the walls and vaulted ceiling, and filling the space with flowers and greenery.
Mark held her hand and led her to the outer edge of the massive room. She didn’t know anyone here except Mark and that fact alone made her nervous. “How long do we have to stay?”
He threaded his fingers through hers and squeezed her hand. That squeeze comforted her in a way that his words couldn’t. It said he was there for her. “I’ll make the rounds. Then we’ll have dinner, listen to the awards, and leave.”
She stared up at him. “Were you trying to be helpful? That sounds like the whole night to me.”
He grinned and tugged her toward the center of the room. “You’ll be fine.”
A mountain of a man in a midnight blue tuxedo slapped Mark on his back. “How are you, Mark?”
“Just fine, Baxter.”
Mark pulled her against him. “This is Karen Ramirez. A friend of mine.”
Baxter gave her a friendly smile. “A pleasure to meet you, Karen. You look lovely tonight.”
Karen shook off her shyness and returned his open smile. “A pleasure to meet you, too. How do you know Mark?”
“Mark and I worked together, before he jumped ship with Ethan. It was a smart move. I left the company six months later.”
Mark covered his mouth and leaned toward Karen, pretending to whisper. “Don’t let the muscles fool you. The guy’s brilliant. But don’t tell him I said that. His head’s too big already.”
Karen relaxed once she realized neither man took himself too seriously.
“Congrats on the award, Bax,” Mark said.
Baxter looked down at his toes. “Thanks.”
Karen marveled at the fact that this big, beautiful man shied away from the attention. “What kind of award are you getting?”
Baxter’s face lit up. “The Vanguard in Education Award.”
“Baxter designed a program for online education that will allow grade schools in the same district to plan and conduct virtual classes together,” Mark explained.
Baxter chimed in. “It’s not the first of its kind, but I’ve tweaked the software to make the chat rooms and messaging functions user-friendly for kids in grade school.”
“I’ve seen a demo, and it’s impressive,” Mark told her.
Karen couldn’t help noticing the pride in Mark’s voice. “How is it different from other virtual-learning systems?”
Both men’s eyes widened, and she laughed. “I’m a recent college graduate, gentlemen. A quarter of my classwork in my senior year happened online.”
Baxter jumped into a detailed description of the program—perhaps too detailed—until a woman joined them and disrupted Baxter’s flow.
“Well, well. If it isn’t tall, dark, and disinterested in the flesh,” the woman said to Mark.
Karen glanced at him, expecting to see annoyance flash across his face, but his eyes shone with merriment instead.
“Hello, Symone,” Mark said.
Karen gawked at the woman who returned Mark’s stare with a wry grin. Sun-kissed corkscrew curls surrounded an arresting face dominated by high cheekbones and full lips. Her light brown eyes promised that she would be fun to hang around with, no matter how regal her physical appearance. And her tangerine gown complemented her brown skin, ensuring that she’d never fade into the background in the sea of black attire at the gala. Karen was smitten. It was official: she’d now experienced her first girl crush.
Mark shifted to allow Symone into the circle. “Symone, this is Karen Ramirez. A friend of mine. Karen, this is Symone Powell. A friend and colleague. Symone, you remember Baxter, right?”
Mark’s voice held a hint of amusement. To Karen’s surprise, Baxter clenched his jaw, barely suppressed annoyance etched into his face. If Symone noticed his disapproval, she didn’t let o
n.
Symone smiled at Karen. “It’s lovely to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
Symone used her index finger to inspect Karen’s bracelet. “That’s beautiful.”
Karen hadn’t expected a compliment. “Thank you. It was a gift from my sister.”
Symone angled her head and assessed her. Her gaze traveled over her face, darted to Mark’s, and settled again on Karen. “You’re beautiful, dear. And young.”
In that instant, the tone of the encounter threatened to change. Karen braced herself for an insulting remark, the champagne roiling in her stomach and making her queasy.
“I didn’t realize Mark and I have that in common—an appreciation for young and beautiful people, that is.”
Mark laughed. “You’ve elevated it to an art form, Symone.”
Karen expected that Symone would make a stinging remark at her expense, but she needn’t have worried. Symone meant to tease, and Mark was her target.
Symone smirked, and she and Mark exchanged playful looks.
“It’ll be her downfall, too,” Baxter added.
Symone’s nostrils flared, but she held her tongue. The tension between Symone and Baxter blanketed the small space. Mark must have picked up on it, too, because he moved closer to Karen and gave her hand another squeeze.
A handsome young man strode toward them with two champagne flutes in hand. His dark brown skin gleamed, its smoothness the perfect setting for his strong facial features.
Symone followed his approach. “Ah. There’s one of the young and beautiful people now. He’s blessed with plenty of stamina, too.”
Baxter cleared his throat. “Karen, would you like to join me on the dance floor?”
She glanced at Mark, whose gaze focused on a point beyond Baxter’s shoulder. “Sure. I’d love to.”
Baxter placed his hand at the small of her back and ushered her away. Issues. These people had issues.
* * *
Symone pinned him with an assessing gaze. “She’s lovely, Mark.”
Mark watched Baxter and Karen on the dance floor. “She is.” Baxter spoke into Karen’s ear, and she laughed. It didn’t worry him, though, because he knew Baxter’s only weakness was the woman standing next to him.
Symone raised her champagne glass to the air and inspected its color. “Is she temporary?”
Mark hated the question. It cheapened what he and Karen shared despite the incontrovertible fact that the honest answer was yes. So he dodged the question altogether. “It’s nothing like that.”
Symone turned to her companion, who seemed content to do nothing more than serve her needs. “Bryce, I’d prefer wine. Could you get me a glass of Merlot instead?”
Bryce bowed. Yes, he actually bowed as though Symone were his queen. “Of course. I’ll be right back.”
With Bryce out of earshot, he turned to Symone. “Is he in training?”
Symone grinned. “He is. And coming along nicely, I might add.”
He’d known Symone several years. When he’d served as the company’s top financial advisor, Symone had been his counterpart at a technology company in Alexandria. They’d become fast friends after attending an executive retreat two years ago. Much to his regret, he’d introduced her to Baxter before he realized Symone had no use for men with their own opinions.
“Do you think you’ll ever tire of these temporary liaisons?”
“Eventually, sure. But for now I’m doing their future wives a favor. I have my say. They obey. We play, and then I send them on their way.”
“Spoken like a true Kanye West wannabe.”
Symone burst out laughing and pushed his shoulder. “You’re such an ass.”
“And you love me for it.”
She returned her attention to Karen and Baxter as they continued to dance. A line appeared between Symone’s brows. Mark suspected it was prompted by Baxter’s presence, not Karen’s. “It’s okay to not be serious about someone, Mark. Just don’t send mixed signals. That’s how people get hurt. You don’t want to hurt her, do you?”
Mark shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’ve got it under control, Symone.”
Just then, Karen’s gaze met his, and she smiled. He lifted his champagne glass to his lips, doing his best to ignore the slight tremble in his hands. Well, maybe he didn’t have it under control. But he planned to fix that soon.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Karen glanced at Mark as he drove. “Okay, so are we going to talk about it?” She continued to rummage through her overnight bag searching for her flats. Cinderella would have had it so much easier if she’d have thought to bring a walk-of-shame rescue pack to the ball.
Mark drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and kept his eyes on the road. “Talk about us?”
“Yes. Us. What we’re doing. Again, just so there’s no confusion. And this time I won’t be giving you a pass.”
He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Fine. I’m just going to put this out there. I like you, Karen. A lot. But I know you’re starting medical school soon, and you’ve made clear that you’re not looking to attach yourself to anyone.”
“Exactly. And you’re looking for a wife.”
He groaned. “I’m not looking for a wife. I’m looking to date someone.”
“You’re looking for a committed relationship then.”
“Eventually, yes.”
“I’m curious. You asked for Gracie and Ethan’s help finding someone to date. Why? I mean, I can’t imagine there’s a shortage of women interested in dating you.”
“Finding someone to date isn’t the problem. It’s the actual dating that’s going to be a challenge. Old habits die hard. And my habits are of the ‘that-was-great-maybe-we’ll-do-it-again-sometime’ variety. ”
“Ugh. I’m not sure I wanted to hear that.”
“You asked for honesty, remember?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m so naïve. Not sure what I was thinking when I asked for you to be straight with me. Go ahead and feel free to lie just a bit.” Mark’s take on dating fascinated her. She adjusted herself in the passenger seat so she could look at him. “Now I’m super curious. Did you give them a wish list?”
He scoffed at the question. “A wish list? No. I’m not looking to date a product on Amazon.”
“C’mon. Let’s be real. If you talked to Ethan about this, there was definitely some objectifying going on.”
“We just discussed certain attributes that might be ideal.”
“I knew it,” she said as she slapped his lap.
“Careful. You might hurt yourself.”
He might not want to talk about it, but she certainly did. Which meant she wasn’t going to let up until she got an answer. “Okay, out with it. What were these attributes?”
“I can’t remember them off the top of my head.”
She narrowed her eyes and stared at him.
After several seconds of silence, he relented. “Okay, okay. Someone around my age. Established in her career. Someone who’s figured out where she wants to live, whether she wants kids. You know, the big stuff.”
In other words, she and the future Mrs. Lansing had nothing in common. Her throat tightened at the realization that she’d never be a serious prospect for him. Why it mattered, she didn’t know. “What about in the looks department?”
“Oh no, we’re not going there.”
“All right, all right. You’ve been remarkably candid with me. I appreciate that. But now I’m very confused.”
“How so?”
“Well, if you’re on the hunt for Mrs. Lansing, why are you taking me to your place?”
* * *
This time Mark had an answer. “Because I think we both could use a last hurrah.”
“A what?”
“A last hurrah? A fling. And before you shut me down, hear me out.”
“I’m going to regret this, I’m sure.”
She sat next to him, wide-eyed and curious, with more cynicism in her bo
dy than any twenty-two-year-old should possess, and he couldn’t help smiling. “No editorial comments, please.”
She rolled her eyes and gestured at her lips as though she were zipping them shut. “The floor is yours.”
He eased his car into his designated space in the lot behind his condo. “Let’s take this discussion inside, all right?”
“All right,” she said as she grabbed her overnight bag.
He took her bag and led her along the path that would take them through the building’s gated courtyard.
“Mark, this is gorgeous,” she said behind him.
“Different, right? This building once served as an embassy. It was converted into this condo a decade ago. Five floors and six units. I have the top unit.”
“You’re so modest. The penthouse, you mean?”
“Yes, the penthouse, if you can call the sixth floor of a building a penthouse. It’s one of the few true loft spaces in Washington, D.C., I fell in love with it when I saw it.”
“Can’t wait to see what a true bachelor pad looks like.”
“What exactly are you expecting, Ms. Ramirez?”
She stepped into the elevator. “Leather. Lots and lots of leather. Oh, and black satin sheets.” With laughter in her eyes, she continued, “Maybe even a disco ball or two.”
He inserted the card key and pressed the button for the penthouse unit. “No, no, and hell no.”
“A swing?”
“Definitely not.”
“You’re a disappointment, Mark.”
She said this with a pout, her pretty lips begging to be kissed. This woman got to him in ways he’d never expected. It was always the little things. The flash of vulnerability behind the bravado. A hitch of her breath. A smirk. And now a playful pout. He dropped her bag on the elevator floor and used his body to push her against the wall. “I can fix that, I promise.”
She reached out and hung on to his lapels, drawing his upper body closer to hers. “This makes no sense,” she whispered.
