Love Me Not

by Reese Ryan

  “Oh, that’s right, I forgot.” Lisa peeked out the door to see if the couple sitting in her section needed anything. “You like guys with full tattoo sleeves and missing teeth.”

  “I do not like guys with missing teeth.” Jamie held up a finger as she tried to keep a straight face. “It’s just not a deal-breaker for me, and unfortunately the two traits go together a lot more often than I’d care to admit.”

  “Okay, whatever. But if Mr. Hottie out there gets sick of you ignoring him, be sure to send him over to my section.” Lisa winked as she hit the door with her hip, then returned to her table.

  Jamie took a deep breath and sauntered out of the door. Stand on your mark. Take your cue and...smile. “Everything okay?” she asked as she tidied the bar.

  “Yes, but I was thinking, maybe I will take that dessert for later. I might get hungry back at the hotel while I’m watching TV.”

  “Another Homeland marathon tonight?”

  “No, tonight I’m watching...okay, you have to promise not to judge.”

  “Why, is tonight the porn marathon?”

  “No. I mean, I appreciate a beautiful woman as much as the next guy, but I prefer my women a little more...genuine.”

  “Fair enough,” she said. “So what are you watching tonight?”

  He took a deep breath. “Dancing with the Stars.”

  Jamie laughed so hard the couple at Lisa’s table turned to look at her, and so did Lisa.

  “You promised not to judge!” He pointed an accusatory finger at her.

  “Actually, I’m pretty sure I didn’t,” she said. “And for the record, I’m not judging. I’m just surprised. There has to be something on that fancy hotel cable of yours.”

  “I’m not watching the show for pleasure. Though if I were, I’m man enough to own up to it.” His smile broadened. “My firm has a client who’s interested in some major television spots. I’m doing a little reconnaissance tonight.”

  “Sounds dangerous.” She leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a husky whisper. “You gonna be alright over there all by yourself with your crème brulee and Carrie Ann Inaba?”

  “A-ha! You do watch the show. Admit it!”

  “I do not. I watch Castle on Monday nights and I usually end up catching the end of Dancing with the Stars.” She shrugged. “I remember things. I can’t help it.”

  “Castle, huh? Great show. I watch it, too. In fact, I just happen to be planning this crazy Castle watch party at my place next week—”

  “You’re hosting a Castle watch party in your hotel room? Even though it’s not the season opener or the season finale. You’re just having a random, let’s watch Castle get-together, huh?”

  “I’m a wild and crazy guy. What can I say?”

  Jamie wondered if he had a switch that turned up the intensity of those eyes because dammit if they weren’t particularly hypnotic at the moment. She could barely tear her gaze away from them. “You are indeed.”

  “I noticed that you don’t work on Mondays, and I thought, since you like Castle and I like Castle...why don’t we just watch it together?”

  Dammit. He’d done it. He’d ruined everything by asking her out, even if it was about the lamest date request she’d had since high school. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

  “Before you turn me down, it’s a pretty sweet deal. I’ll supply the food and the drinks and I’d wait on you. All you’d have to do is just show up.”

  Jamie watched his face, his eyes full of hope. Normally she had no problem turning down patrons’ romantic offers. But there was something about Miles Copeland that made it far more difficult. She pressed her lips into a cordial smile. “I’m sorry, Miles, but...”

  “C’mon, Jamie. It’ll be fun. I promise.” He was adorable, despite the disappointment lingering behind his eyes.

  Just say it. Tell him why you can’t. She opened her mouth, intending to explain Tahlia’s rule to him, but she clamped her mouth shut, her heart pounding. The words seemed so final. She’d be officially pronouncing the end of their little game, and she wasn’t ready to do that. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. Thank you for the offer, though.” She bit her lip and glanced away. “So, that dessert you wanted. How about the crème brulee? It’s my favorite.”

  Miles tapped his hand lightly on the bar, forcing a smile. “Sure.”

  Jamie acknowledged his agreement with a quick dip of her head before ducking into the kitchen.

  Lisa was hard on her heels. “Why didn’t you just explain Tahlia’s rule to him?”

  “Does it really matter? Either way, the answer is still no.” Jamie grabbed a glass and filled it with water, refusing to provide an honest answer to the question, even to herself. “Why is it bugging you so much, anyway?”

  “Because this guy is fucking gorgeous and because you need a man. Maybe then you wouldn’t be so bitchy all the time.” Lisa threw a towel at her.

  Jamie snatched it in midair and tossed it back to her. “Fuck you.”

  Lisa laughed then jerked her thumb over her shoulder toward the bar. “I’d prefer to fuck your friend out there. I get the feeling you would, too.”

  * * *

  Miles stood at the window of his hotel room, glancing down on the dark street. He could see Tahlia’s from his window. It was a little after midnight. That meant Jamie was still there.

  Sinking into the chair, he clicked the remote. He had to be in the office by 8 a.m., but he couldn’t sleep with thoughts of Jamie Charles rumbling through his head. After two hours of lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, he opted to get up and do some work. His brain disagreed, because every work-related thought he had was interrupted by visions of that intriguing face and those intense green eyes. They were like X-rays, peering beneath his skin. Burning a hole into his flesh. Her face was so expressive. Full lips, punctuated by a bloodred lipstick. A tiny diamond stud pierced her left nostril. Dark shadow accentuated those green eyes. His heart beat a little faster just thinking of them.

  As he closed his eyes, remembering the way those fitted black slacks hugged her delicious curves, other parts of his anatomy responded, too.

  She’d caught his eye because of her passing resemblance to someone from his past. But it quickly became clear that Jamie Charles was unlike any woman he’d ever known.

  He rubbed the scruff on his chin, his mind replaying her hard-won smile, the lilt of her laughter. Jamie was a straight-talker who didn’t pull any punches, and she could detect the slightest whiff of bullshit from ten miles away. She wasn’t the kind of woman who would fawn over a man and stroke his ego—the kind his father preferred. But that wasn’t what he wanted. He found her raw honesty and the hidden vulnerability he’d sensed beneath her tough exterior irresistible. There was something about her that made him want to know every one of her secrets, to reassure her that everything would be okay.

  “Get it together, man,” he told himself aloud. “It’s not like she’s the last girl in the world.”

  But she might as well have been. All he could think of was how that round ass would feel cupped in the palm of his hands. How her lips would taste.

  With her fiery intensity, he’d wager his black 5 series BMW that she was a tomcat in bed. And God, would he like to test that theory out. But despite his best effort, she’d unequivocally turned him down without so much as a hesitation or an excuse. It was the worst kind of rejection because it left a guy with nowhere to go. So why couldn’t he stop thinking of her, wanting her?

  He turned off the television and got back into bed, hoping that visions of Jamie Charles wouldn’t follow him.

  * * *

  Jamie stood in the middle of her studio in a tank top and a pair of barely there boy shorts. It’d been nearly a week since Miles had come into the bar. She should be glad he’d gotten the message and moved on. But for some reason she’d looked up every time Tahlia’s front door opened, silently hoping it was him.

  He’d probably gone back to New York. After all, he’d s
aid he was only in town for a few weeks.

  Once the fact that she’d probably never see him again registered in her brain, she’d gone back to working on her drawing. With Miles out of the equation she could be sure that this was about her art, not his gorgeous face or the fact that he always made her laugh, no matter how hard she tried not to. This was about creating something beautiful and enduring. Something that made her happy.

  Jamie stood in front of the easel, arms crossed, staring at that smile. She’d captured it so perfectly that it made her heart jump a little looking at it now. Hopefully potential buyers would have the same reaction. Want to lean over and kiss those lips as much as she did. Biting her lip, Jamie stood back and surveyed his hair. The spikiness of his sun-kissed brown hair complemented the levity of his grin and sparkling eyes. His shoulders revealed a hint of the muscles underneath the fitted shirt he’d worn to the bar that day. God, just thinking about it made her warm in places she didn’t want to admit.

  She put down the charcoal and picked up her phone. Maybe Ex was up for a little... No, she’d promised herself that would never happen again. That she and Ex were just friends. Period. No extracurricular activity. Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to him. He’d simply be a proxy for what she actually wanted.

  While she was completely fine with sex simply for the sake of it, she knew Ex wanted more from her and that she could never give it to him. That perhaps she was incapable of feeling that way about anyone.

  Her parents apparently knew less than nothing about how to make a relationship work. And despite watching Ellie and Lou in a happy, healthy relationship, there was something inherent in her that was incapable of achieving such joy, or even of wanting it. What she wanted was physical, visceral, temporal—delicious, hot sex. Nothing more. And she liked it that way.

  As long as she didn’t expect anything greater, she’d never be disappointed. It was a defense mechanism she’d developed after years of waiting for her parents to show up, to give a fuck what happened to her from one day to the next. There was no way she’d give that kind of power to anyone else. Maybe Ellie, Mel and Mimi didn’t approve of the way she chose to live her life, but she was fine with the way things were.

  Jamie sat on the futon, legs pulled underneath her, and stared at the drawing. Spending a night or two with Miles would be fun, but he seemed like a guy who wanted more. And that was something she just wasn’t prepared to give.

  Chapter Five

  “So, how’ve you been?”

  Jamie turned quickly, cheeks stinging from embarrassment, her excitement evident. She bit her lower lip, and reined in the grin that threatened to stretch her mouth wide. “I thought you went back to New York.”

  “I did, but believe it or not, I missed Emmitt’s cooking. Maybe I missed you a little, too.” He winked at her.

  She returned a tight-lipped smile, her heartbeat quickening. Suddenly her mouth felt dry. Her words came out in a breathy whisper. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “Glad you feel that way, because you’ll be seeing a lot more of me.”

  “Why? I mean...how long will you be staying?”

  “Permanently.” His face was animated, mouth stretched wide, eyes dancing with amusement. “I accepted a promotion to the Cleveland office.”

  “Congratulations.” The din of the bar was drowned out by the sound of her own pulse pounding in her ears as she filled his glass of water. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. “How long have you been back?”

  “Landed this morning.” His eyes gleamed, causing a flutter in her belly. “Went to work then headed straight here.”

  “So essentially I’m the only guest at your celebration dinner? That’s pretty sad,” she teased. “A handsome, outgoing guy like you, I bet lots of women would like to be celebrating with you tonight.”

  Did she actually just pull a backdoor, do you have a girlfriend? What was wrong with her anyway?

  “There are. My mother and my sister back home.” He laughed. “I’m sure they’ll have something planned for me when I go home this weekend.”

  “What about here? Surely someone at your office offered to take you out for dinner.” Jamie handed him a menu. She focused on the bridge of his nose, avoiding those eyes.

  “We had a little luncheon down the street earlier today, but I had this compelling desire to have dinner with you.” He looked up from the menu, his eyes searching hers for a moment.

  She took a step back and forced a laugh. “I’ll bet you say that to all the pretty girls.”

  “Ms. Charles, are you accusing me of being a no-good womanizer?” He feigned offense in an exaggerated accent...Rhett Butler, maybe? “I assure you, that is not my style.”

  “I’m not accusing you of anything,” she said, feeling more in control of the conversation now that she had him on the offensive. “Besides, I don’t believe it’s a bad thing for a man or a woman to stay completely unattached, if that’s what they want. I just hate that there’s a double standard that says it’s okay for a man—like George Clooney—to move from one woman to another his entire dating life, but if a woman does it, she’s branded a slut.” She realized her voice had risen a little when a customer sitting at the other end of the bar turned to look at her. Lowering her voice, she leaned in closer. “If that’s how you roll, that’s your business. As long as you’re up-front about what you want from the beginning, no harm done.”

  “Is that what you want? Just sex, no strings attached?”

  She’d never had a problem owning up to that fact before, but now...she cleared her throat and carefully worded her response. “Long-term relationships aren’t my thing.”

  “Sounds lonely,” he said, his voice quiet.

  The pity that tinged his voice made her cheeks burn. Throat dry, she bit her lip, restraining the tirade of angry words that came to mind. She forced her words through clenched teeth. “Is that why you invited me to your place? You think I’m some lonely, pathetic bar girl who could use a friend?”

  “No, of course not.” He leaned forward. “I invited you because I enjoy your company. Maybe you don’t want to admit it, but I got the distinct feeling you felt the same way.”

  She took a deep breath and stepped forward, her hands spread flat on the bar, her eyes trained on his. “Like you said, that’s my job. Please let me know when you decide on your order.”

  * * *

  He knew he was pressing too hard, even before the words left his mouth. But he could be impulsive sometimes, and there was something about this girl that pushed all his buttons in a way that only made him want to push hers right back. Worse, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. He had to have her, and as long as there was a shred of possibility that she was interested, he wasn’t ready to give up on the idea.

  Miles hadn’t lied to her. He wasn’t a man-whore, like she’d implied. Still, he hadn’t been much for long-term relationships either. Not that that was what he wanted from her, necessarily. At this point, he’d be satisfied to have her in his bed, even if it turned out to be for a night. He had a desperate need to touch her. To kiss those lips. To feel her skin against his.

  But he was also attracted to the way she challenged him. He liked that she was a walking, talking bullshit detector, not afraid to call him on it. It was a trait he admired. One he liked to think he also possessed. Which was why he’d had to ask her if sex was all she really wanted from a relationship. Of course, he’d also asked because he wanted to know. Needed to know. He didn’t believe her answer, not even for a minute. Deep down he didn’t believe she did either.

  Underneath that armor, that penetrating stare and those venomous words, there was something else. Something fragile and raw—like an exposed nerve. The armor she’d piled on was designed to protect that vulnerability, the Jamie she didn’t want the world to know. Or maybe he was just an idealist, seeing what he wanted.

  “Ready to order?” She stood before him, expressionless.

  “Look, Jamie, I’m sorry if I offen
ded you. That wasn’t my intention. I thought...I mean, we’ve been pretty honest with each other over the past few weeks and I thought—”

  “That you could imply that I’m a slut and I’d be okay with it?” She folded her arms, an eyebrow raised.

  “I didn’t say that and that’s not what I meant. I would never say anything like that to you, or any woman.” He lowered his voice and leaned forward. “There is a double standard of how men and women are regarded, and it isn’t fair. But that’s not what I was asking about. It just seems...well, it seems like you have this wall up to keep people out so you won’t get hurt.”

  Anger flickered behind those green eyes and she’d practically sprouted horns. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d pulled a pitchfork from beneath the bar and speared him with it. Worse, he probably deserved it.

  “Don’t pretend to know anything about me,” she seethed. “I serve you a couple of cocktails and all of a sudden you’re a Jamie Charles expert. That’s pretty spectacular, mister. Do you do any other party tricks?”

  He took a breath before he responded, trying to diffuse the anger raging behind those green eyes. “You read people the minute they walk in that front door. Maybe it never occurred to you that they can read you, too.”

  She frowned at him and bit her lip, but her arms fell to her sides. He hoped that meant she’d decided against hitting him over the head with a bottle of wine or something. She released a long breath and shook her head, looking past him. “Whatever, it’s fine. I accept your apology. Now, are you ready to order?”

  He sat taller on the bar stool and reviewed the menu again. “How about the salmon tonight? And no drink this time. I’ll just have club soda with lime, thanks.”

  She keyed in the order then took his menu before turning to walk away. She stopped suddenly and turned back to him. “Since we’re being so honest...why’d you let me order pork chops for you when you had them the night before?”

  He shrugged, though his cheeks were warm. He should’ve known her friend would tell her he’d come looking for her that night. “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. Besides, you weren’t wrong. The pork chops were melt-in-your-mouth good. Both nights,” he added with a guarded smile.