by A. m Madden
I first met Vince at a party a mutual friend threw while I attended FIT. We were each there with dates. His date got plastered, and he ended up leaving early. Mine turned out to be a real jerk. A few weeks later, Vince got my number and asked me out. We got along perfectly, and quickly fell into a very comfortable relationship…comfortable being the key word. When a fantastic job opportunity arose for him in D.C., we decided to part ways. I wasn’t willing to give up my life in New York, and he wasn’t ready to offer me a better life in D.C.
During our time together Vince was the romantic, sexy, model boyfriend. But he lacked the sizzle and heat that seemed to effortlessly exude from every cell in David’s body. He lacked the “make me weak in the knees” factor.
If David could turn me into a hot mess after one kiss, I couldn’t wrap my brain around the damage he could do after sex.
Then again, I may never know. Over the past week I’ve gone about my day-to-day routine without any interruption. On the outside no one had a clue that my mind constantly went back to our kiss, or what I did or said that could have caused his absence. Sure, he didn’t have my number, but he knew my name, where I worked, even where I lived. If he really wanted to see me he would have by now.
Besides my insecurities, I even concocted scenarios beyond my control, such as illness, family tragedy. I debated contacting Eve, and then quickly decided against it. In a nutshell, I was mentally spent and completely over David Cavello.
Liar.
With a transfixed gaze I watched my Keurig fill my coffee cup one slow drop at a time.
“This is going to be a long day,” I said out loud to the coffeemaker that seemed to be mocking me. Normally I liked to relax on weekends. At least during the week, I had work to distract me. I had no plans until later that night, and the hours stretching before me made me feel antsy. After my third coffee and a shower, I decided I needed a distraction.
Dressed in my cold weather walking gear, I grabbed my keys and phone to head out for a long walk in Central Park. The cold air would do me good. On a Saturday, the place would be teeming with New Yorkers and I could spend hours people-watching and not thinking of David.
Liar.
David
Okay, so she got under my skin, and to be honest I wasn’t sure how it happened so quickly. The girl had me thinking of nothing else but what the rest of her would taste like. After kissing her, I made my way back downtown in a Maygen-induced daze and wondered what the hell that meant.
I’d like to say distraction helped to keep her off my mind. No such luck. Between my normal PTSD episodes and imagery of Maygen Whitney’s full, gorgeous lips on mine, among other places, I haven’t slept more than a few hours a night.
This past week I couldn’t help but wonder how I would hide my demons from someone if I let them in. I never had to even consider that until now. I didn’t care. Most of the “someones” were one-night stands and quick hookups.
After getting to know her a bit, after having that tiny taste of her, I worried that my dark side and my need to be normal would clash and Maygen would be caught in my crossfire.
Days later, clarity still hadn’t presented itself. I felt like I was suffocating at the hands of my demons as well as the memory of her body pressed up against mine. The walls of my apartment closed in, and the need for air consumed me. My brilliant solution had me on a park bench taking in the kaleidoscope of humans, nature, and architecture that decorated the landscape of Central Park. The combination failed to clear the random thoughts that assaulted my brain like the rapid fire of a semiautomatic.
And then…the sight of a perky, petite blonde instantly cleared my head of all the concerns that had plagued me over the past week. Suddenly I couldn’t remember what the fuck my problem had been. Suddenly I hated that I had let a whole week go by without having her in my life.
What the fuck was happening?
“Following me?” I called out from the bench I sat on when she was only a few feet away. She looked up, shock registering all over her face.
“No,” she responded defensively.
“Maybe you’re the stalker?” I rose and slowly walked to where she stood. She was happy to see me yet hating that she was. When I came toe to toe with her, the pupils of her pale eyes dilated with lust while she folded her arms defiantly. Her reaction told me I had hit the nail on the head. “I think you are. In fact, I think you loved our kiss so much you came looking for a repeat.”
“That kiss was just okay, and it was a week ago. Don’t flatter yourself,” she quipped.
“What are you doing here then?”
“I come here a lot on weekends.”
“So do I.” I stepped even closer, causing her eyes to cut back to mine. “How are you?”
“Fine.”
“Are you, now? I haven’t been on your mind at all?”
“You sure are full of yourself, aren’t you?”
I could see the shimmer on her lips from the lip balm she used to coat them, making me wonder if it was cherry flavored or maybe vanilla mint. “You don’t want to admit it? That’s cool. I understand.”
“Admit what?”
Runners veered around us as we stood smack in the middle of the park’s running path, forcing me to take her hand and lead her to the bench I had been sitting on. Without giving her the option, I sat and pulled her beside me. Her eyes remained focused on my face, as I got comfortable lifting an arm around her shoulders and pulling her even closer. Only then, with my eyes trained on the hustle and bustle before us, did I respond.
“I think you don’t want to admit that you spent many sleepless nights tossing and turning, possibly trying to read or maybe even trying to relieve the pressure that I caused….”
She released a combination snort-huff and shook her head. “You’re delusional.”
I turned my head to look down at her face. “Am I?”
“Yes, you are. It was a kiss.” She went to stand and my grip on her shoulder tightened.
“Okay. Suit yourself, but I’ll admit it.” I lifted her and placed her on my lap. Her small hands immediately moved to my shoulders and her eyes reluctantly stared back into mine. “Memories of that kiss have consumed me.”
The scowl on her face softened, her lips parted, and she asked, “Really?” The way she asked was so adorable that I fought the urge to take her lips in another scorching kiss. Instead, I nodded slowly and smiled.
“Yep. All I’ve been thinking about were these gorgeous lips,” I admitted, skimming my thumb along their smooth, waxy surface. I should have been scared shitless at how easily that truth escaped my mouth, but for some reason I wanted her to know. “And now that you are here, like a birthday wish that came true, it’d be a shame to ignore them.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Ask away.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
I waited a moment. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” She rolled her eyes and tried to stand again. I held her firmly on my lap.
Instead of explaining, I simply asked, “Forgive me with a kiss?” She turned her head, a conflict obvious on her face. “Please?” I took her chin between my thumb and pointer finger, turning her head to persuade her. “I’m an idiot.”
Her eyes focused on my lips and I took that opportunity to bury my hand in her hair to coax her along. I could literally see when she lost the battle within her own head. She licked her lips, gazed into my eyes, and leaned her head ever so slightly. Before she could change her mind I crushed my lips to hers. Our mouths were like long-lost friends who were very familiar and fell right back into their pattern. It wasn’t soft or teasing, but instead a fierce display of heated passion.
The cold winter air did little to cool down my body, and the only reason I stopped our kiss was our location. It took a few long moments for her to open her eyes once we broke apart. “Mmm, vanilla mint.”
She smiled shyly. “What?”
“Your lip balm. I was won
dering what flavor it was. I love vanilla mint.” A blush further tinged her already rosy cheeks. “Can I have one more taste?”
“No,” she replied with a smirk. Without explanation she scooted off my lap and stood.
“Where are you going?”
“I can’t be sitting here in the middle of Central Park making out with you.”
“Why not?” I chuckled at the way her cheeks puffed as she blew out an exasperated gust of air. “Fine, we’ll just have to continue this later in a more private setting. Do you have plans tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Whoever he is, tell him you’re busy.”
She narrowed her eyes and shook her head in mock disgust. “Mr. Control Freak is back.”
I stood, forcing her to angle her head to look at my face. “Don’t knock it, baby. You may like it.”
“It?”
“Being controlled.”
Her eyes widened to saucers when I reached into her pocket without an invite. “What are you doing?”
Wordlessly, I pulled out her cellphone, punched in my number, and pushed the call through. Once my cell vibrated in my coat, I returned the phone to her with a wink. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” After placing one firm, hard kiss on her gaping mouth, I turned and walked away. Purposely waiting a few minutes before I turned around, when I did I couldn’t help the grin that spread over my face at seeing her still standing where I had left her, and staring after me.
If Maygen Whitney was determined to fuck with my head, well then, I was determined to fuck with hers.
Chapter 6
Maygen
“Sweetheart…Maygen.”
“Huh?”
“Where are you?”
I regarded my father as he sat across from me with an exasperated look on his face. “Oh, sorry. What did you say?”
“Reed asked what you wanted to drink, three times.”
From the doorway, Reed stood with raised brows while patiently waiting for my response. “Oh…um, white wine is fine. Thanks, Reed.”
“Seriously, what’s going on with you?” Dad asked insistently once Reed disappeared into the kitchen to retrieve my wine.
“Nothing, just work stuff. I’m busy and it’s all I can think about,” I lied. I hated lying to my father and rarely did so, but when I had to it scared me how easily I could.
“Dax is taking advantage of you. If you worked for me then—”
“Dad.”
“What?”
“Dax always takes advantage of me. You need a new argument. Also, please stop sending Warren to my apartment every morning. We’ve been through this before. Honestly, I need you to stop.”
“Baby girl, you’ll never know a parent’s concern until you become one.”
“I’m sure. And I promise, if I ever need him or you, I’ll call you immediately. But until I do, please back off a bit.”
He inhaled audibly with an exaggerated eye-roll. “Fine. I’m not happy about it, but you need to promise me you’ll be careful. You’re a gorgeous young lady and this city is filled with scum looking to take everything you have…and I don’t mean your money.”
I could feel the conversation drifting into the uncomfortable sex talk area, and I was both too old and too experienced to hear my father’s theories on sexual predators.
“Where’s Felicia tonight?” I blatantly changed the subject. My dad’s face immediately lit at the mention of his current girlfriend, Felicia Meriwether.
“She’s in California until Wednesday.”
They’d been together a few months at that point, and I could already tell Dad really liked her. Thankfully, by some sheer grace of whatever was holy, I did as well. They were close in age, close in tax brackets, and close in morals…all pluses compared to some of the gems Dad had dated over the years. Even so, I wasn’t getting my hopes up. Dad had made it very clear he would not marry again. At best, his relationship with Felicia could possibly get into double digits in the number of months it endured, but anything permanent was doubtful.
As my father went on about an upcoming trip he planned to surprise Felicia with for Christmas, my thoughts drifted back to David. After running into him at the park, the same thoughts that had plagued me for the last seven days returned tenfold.
Earlier, during lunch with Betha, I had slipped into my David-induced daydream so many times she threatened to hold me hostage until I told her what had me so spacey. Debating what to tell her, but also craving someone to confide in, I said, “Remember the guy who spilled coffee all over me?”
“Yeah,” she responded slowly, narrowing her eyes while waiting for my explanation.
“Well…” I proceeded to give her a quick recap of all that had happened from my fateful run-in with David up to seeing him in the park.
“How could you keep this from me?”
“I’m telling you now.”
“Now? You’ve kept this from me this whole time? I’m so hurt.” At her next question, something along the lines of “Was he hard when you sat on his lap?” I knew she was already over my omission.
“Garrett, will Felicia be back in time for the party next Saturday?” Reed asked as he returned with my wine and a refill of scotch for my dad.
“Yes, she’ll be there.”
Following behind her husband, Phoebe carried in a platter of cheese, crackers, and fruit and placed it on the coffee table between the two couches.
“Here’s a little something to hold you over until dinner is ready.” With a warm smile, she took the seat beside me.
“Pheebs, you didn’t have to go through the trouble,” my father said as he reached for a slice of cheese and a cracker. “But since you did…”
“It’s no trouble,” she responded. “I love seeing you guys. It’s not often we can get together outside of a work function. I’m so happy we can finally have a nice quiet night together. It’s been a while.”
I doubted her words were meant to be defensive, but the way Reed frowned gave away how much of a sore subject it had become between them.
“Well, it’s nice to relax with good friends, especially when one of them is such a fantastic cook.” Dad smiled warmly at Phoebe before tipping his crystal tumbler in a silent toast.
“And my wife sure outdid herself tonight.” Reed inhaled the delicious aromas that wafted out from the kitchen. “That roast smells so good, babe.”
Phoebe raised a brow knowingly, not buying his compliment. My lips curled over my teeth as I tried to hide my grin at his blatant attempts at ass kissing.
During my last phone conversation with Reed, he had shared that Phoebe was not happy with the hours he’d been keeping at work. Now that they knew she was pregnant with their first child, she refused to act as a single parent while her husband worked all hours of the day and night.
The reasons had nothing to do with my dad. Slave driver wasn’t in his makeup, unlike my own boss. Actually, Dad was the opposite of tyrant when it came to his employees, especially his direct reports. Dad believed happy work conditions made for loyal employees, and he was very generous with vacation time, company perks, and benefits. Even the bonuses he handed out for exceptional performance, holidays, or birthdays went way beyond the corporate norm.
The problem was all Reed. Reed Conlon was a lot like Dad in his drive for excellence. He was a brother to me and a son to my father. Having come from nothing, he had spent his younger years in the foster care system. Adopted at the age of ten by an older couple who just wanted another able body to help tend to their farm, Reed needed to get out of there or else he’d never survive his fate. He worked his ass off and landed a football scholarship to Syracuse University.
An injury ended any hopes of a professional career, but going back home to his adoptive parents wasn’t an option. Forced to switch gears, he decided that if he couldn’t play, then he’d represent those who could, and so he set his sights on New York City, where he secured an internship with my dad’s firm…and the rest was history.
&n
bsp; Reed met Phoebe after he moved to Manhattan. She lived in the apartment next door, and once they started dating it wasn’t long before they purchased their own place not far from his office. Phoebe had excellent taste, and although the place was small it was beautifully decorated.
A few years later, they married in a quiet ceremony with just closest friends and family. And now they were starting a family of their own. Reed and I were only a few years apart, but he seemed so much older. Unlike most recent college graduates, who were still reeling from the party life, Reed knew what he wanted and he went after it full throttle. When he started working for my dad at the age of twenty-two, I would tease that he was a forty-year-old stuck in a college-aged body.
Over the six years that he’d been working for my father, Reed’s commitment and loyalty were unwavering. My father taught him everything he knew regarding public relations, and with Reed’s warm personality, handsome looks, maturity, and brilliant intellect he became a PR force to be reckoned with.
Dad and Reed got along beautifully, as did Reed and I. Having Reed to groom as his successor had taken the focus off my aversion toward all things connected to Whitney Public Relations, Inc. So, basically, I thanked God daily for bringing Reed Conlon to my dad.
“Maygen, have you bought a new dress for the holiday party?” Phoebe asked as Dad and Reed fell into another discussion about work.
“No, I haven’t. Nothing like waiting until the last minute.”
Phoebe laughed at my whining, which left little doubt exactly how much I dreaded that party. Dad threw an amazing bash every year, and as his daughter I was always expected to attend. But schmoozing wasn’t my thing, and the thought of thwarting the advances of a certain account manager named Ted caused me to release a subconscious sigh.
Except for the fact there was something about him that made my skin crawl, he was a nice guy. Physically, his only fault was his height. Betha often joked that if we put him on one of those medieval racks and stretched him then he’d be perfect. I agreed it was a great idea, and if it worked she could go out with him.
