by Monica James
She made her intentions very clear when she walked out of my apartment and told me to leave her alone. However, I can’t help but think about what she said earlier. She said she obviously falls for the wrong men. So, inadvertently, she admitted that she’s fallen for me.
But if that’s the case, then why did she freak out in my apartment? And more importantly, why did she stay away? I have no idea if she’s still seeing the jerkoff, I mean, that would be a good reason why, but that didn’t stop her from returning my kisses. That’s why I’m confident that Madison’s tainted past is stopping her from moving on. And sadly, no one can fight those demons except Madison herself.
But I can’t force her to tell me her secrets, or force her to be with me. If I push, I have no doubt Madison will pull away. So what am I to do?
I hate feeling this way, and in times of crisis, I would normally burn off my restlessness by finding a warm body and losing myself in the comfort only a warm body can provide. But I don’t want that.
Groaning, I turn off my laptop and decide to hit the gym. It’s now 10:30 p.m., and the only chance of getting a wink of sleep is to run until I drop into an exhausted heap.
But no matter how far I run, I know Madison will always be two steps ahead.
* * *
It’s Friday night, and the majority of guests have arrived for the awards ceremony, which is to take place tomorrow evening. I have kept to myself all week, pretty much barricading myself in my room, and honestly, it’s been a nice change focusing on books instead of boobs.
But sadly, my hermit status must be put on hold as all attendees are invited to attend a pre-awards dinner party, and it would be unwise of me not to go.
It’s a formal event, so I’ve dressed smart in a pinstripe monkey suit, but I’ve slipped on a vest as the heat is atrocious and I have no desire to be sweating into my champagne. As I make my way to the elevator, I bump into Chad Turner, my friend from the Psychiatry and Behavioral Sciences board, and a woman who I’m presuming is his new squeeze, as her enormous rock is blinding me with its brand new sparkle. She also happens to be his junior by about forty years.
“Dixon,” Chad happily says, extending his hand. “How lovely to see you. Did you just arrive?”
“No, I actually drove down a few days ago,” I explain, pressing the call button and ignoring the predatory eyes of the brunette by Chad’s side. “I needed to get out of the city.”
“Ah, yes, New York can be rather taxing. Have you enjoyed your stay so far?” he asks as the elevator cart stops on our floor.
As we enter, the brunette makes a point of standing rather close to me, and I make a point of subtly moving away. “Yes, it’s been wonderful, although I haven’t had much of a chance to sightsee. I’ve been working on my paper.”
“Oh? More research into neurobiology and addiction?” he asks, and I nod. “I love what you have presented thus far; your findings are rather genius. All book work? Or a bit of personal experience?” he asks with a smirk, watching the floors tick by above his head.
“A bit of both,” I reply, and move back a fraction, as this bold brunette just shifted a touch closer.
“I would love to hear your theories. Are you free tomorrow for a round of golf?” he asks.
“Sure, I would love to,” I reply, and practically storm out of the elevator when the doors open. “Meet you in the lobby around nine thirty?”
Wrapping his arm around the tart’s tiny waist, he proudly says, “Yes, that’s perfect. Rebecca loves golf, don’t you, honey?”
“I sure do. I can’t wait to see you on the greens,” she replies. She can’t be serious.
“Now if you’ll excuse me,” Chad says. “I have to show this little beauty off to my jealous colleagues.”
She giggles, throwing me a flirty wink over her shoulder as we enter the ballroom, while I head straight for the bar. After that god-awful experience, I need a scotch to settle me down.
The bartender gives me a small smile as she sneakily slips me a double shot.
I take my drink and decide to work the room because I’ve already seen half a dozen people I want to talk to. This is what these functions are all about. For people to big-note themselves, for others to boast and brag about the millions of dollars they make, and for people like me to get to the top, using my brain rather than my wallet to succeed.
I’ve made a name for myself, and for that I’m proud, but unlike the majority of fossils that are here, I’ve done so through hard work and keeping in touch with the newest theories and studies. Yes, I may have fallen off the wagon, but I’m back on it, and I’m determined to win that award next year.
* * *
Two hours later, I’ve worked the room and spoken to everyone I wanted to chat with. My theories were debated by almost every person, but when I explained the facts, nearly all seemed to understand my approach.
Most faces I recognized, but some I didn’t, and those were the ones I made sure I got to know. I have made some new allies this evening, and the ones I already had were singing my praises. I may be a failure in my personal life, but career-wise, I’m fucking nailing it.
Making my way over to the bar, the same bartender from earlier spots me and reaches for the scotch with a smile.
“Make that two,” a voice to the left says.
I turn and see Chad’s wife or mistress, or whatever the hell she is, standing beside me, a sinister smile marring her ruby red lips. “We weren’t formally introduced,” she says and extends her hand, her bracelets jingling with the movement. “I’m Rebecca.”
Accepting her hand, I shake it lightly. “Nice to meet you, Rebecca. I’m Dixon,” I reply, letting go of her hand, as I’m afraid she’ll shove it down the front of her purple dress.
“So, Dixon, you wouldn’t happen to know what they do for fun around here, would you?” she asks, her finger skirting around the rim of her glass once the bartender places our glasses on the counter.
Trying to remain cool, I smile. “You have looked around, haven’t you?” I ask, twirling my pointer. “No fun will be found in a room full of doctors.”
She grins, revealing a set of perfect white teeth. “Well, how about you and I go make our own fun?” she suggests, dipping the tip of her finger into the scotch and wetting her lower lip with the liquid.
Jesus H. Christ, no foreplay with this man-eater. She’s just gone in for the kill in under sixty seconds. I’m impressed. Too bad she’s completely and utterly off limits.
“Thank you for the very tempting offer,” I say, reaching for my glass. “But I’m going to have to decline.”
“Excuse me?” she replies in disbelief. “Just in case we’re not clear, that was an offer to fuck your brains out. Free of charge.”
Free of charge. Is she a hooker? No way would Chad bring a prostitute to this thing.
Remaining calm, I nod. “Oh, we’re clear. But I don’t think your husband would appreciate me banging boots with his wife.”
Scoffing, she leans in closer, purring into my ear. “He’s not my husband…yet. And besides, the old fart will be asleep by eleven. I need a real man to satisfy my needs, not a Viagra-popping grandpa.”
Well, Rebecca is not one to sugarcoat, well…anything. She’s obviously with Chad for the money, as he’s ridiculously loaded. He’s also a well-educated, highly intelligent man, but it goes to show you even the smartest of men get lost in the garden of the forbidden coochie.
I don’t feel so bad now.
“How ’bout I just blow you then?” she suggests like we’re talking sports.
“Again, thank you,” I say, stepping away. “But no.”
“Are you gay?” she retorts, hand on hip, unbelieving a heterosexual man could turn her down.
With a smug smile, I shake my head. “I’m very much straight, peaches. I just don’t want to fuck you. I’ve been around your kind for far too long, and as of now, I’m detoxing.”
“That can’t be true. I’ve been told you were a sure thing,�
� she says, looking annoyed.
Her comment has me stepping in closer, not wanting anyone to overhear what she just said.
“Excuse me? Who told you that?” I ask, horrified.
Rebecca looks around the room, obviously trying to spot the culprit. “Her,” she finally says, pointing over my shoulder.
I can’t stop myself and I quickly turn, not caring that I appear desperate. The moment I see her, I curse myself for not guessing who it was sooner.
“She said that you like to fuck, and like to fuck hard,” Rebecca states into my ear, while I cringe, listening to the words that have come back to bite me in the ass.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I say, my eyes locked with Juliet’s as she gives me a smug wave from across the room while sipping her champagne.
“I’m first in line,” Rebecca says, latching onto my arm as I make my escape.
I discreetly pull out of her clutches, not wanting to make a scene. “There is no line,” I bark, my patience wearing thin. “I don’t know what Juliet told you, but I assure you, they’re all lies.”
“Juliet? She told me her name was Sarah,” Rebecca reveals, looking at Juliet and narrowing her eyes. Juliet no doubt gave an alias, as she was hoping to remain undetected as the culprit who has just turned my night to shit.
“See, there you go. If she lied to you about her name, what else did she lie to you about?” I say. Not sticking around to hear her response, I politely push my way through the crowd and storm over to Juliet in record speed.
“Dr. Mathews,” she purrs, her lips tipping up into a devious smile.
“Can I have a word?” I snarl under my breath, gripping her bicep.
Thankfully she doesn’t object and comes with me as I practically drag her outside and onto the balcony. There are a few people smoking out here, but most are too wasted or caught up in conversation to notice me snarling at her, about ready to toss her off the railing.
“What are you doing here?” I say, the hostility clear in my tone as I release her arm roughly.
“I’m here because you invited me to attend,” she replies, smoothing out her gold-colored gown.
“Well, the invitation has been revoked. Now leave,” I say from between clenched teeth.
“Babe, what’s the matter?” she has the nerve to ask, wrapping a hand around my nape and attempting to draw me close.
I stand my ground and pull away from her because she has clearly lost her mind. “Juliet, I have no idea what game you’re playing, but you need to leave immediately. These are my work colleagues. You can’t be here, and you most certainly can’t be spreading vile rumors.”
“Rumors?” Juliet challenges, brushing back her hair. “Rumors would imply a false story. But we both know what you’ve been up to. I believe what I told your little admirer was indeed fact.”
Internally counting to five, I sneer, “What do you want?”
Juliet laughs, and the sound which once made me smile now makes me want to hurl.
“I want things to go back to the way they were. I’m not asking for a commitment, Dixon, I just want you to worship me the way you did before,” she reveals, stepping forward and cupping my balls. “I miss you. No one can make me come the way you do.”
“Stop it,” I scold, stepping out of her hold and looking from left to right to ensure no one saw.
Juliet smirks, and I know she has the power to break me. But what she’s proposing, I would rather be exposed for the pervert that I am than be held prisoner by her scheming snatch.
“No,” I say firmly.
“Why not? Did you get engaged or something while I was away?”
Her comment inspires me to answer truthfully. “Actually, yes, I met someone,” I confess, while Juliet pales.
“Who is she? Your little sleepover buddy?”
“Someone you will never know,” I say, taking great pleasure in seeing her seethe.
“I knew it,” she says, her red lips dipping into a tight frown. “What’s her name? I want to know the name of my conqueror.”
“Madison,” I reply, unable to stop myself. How I wish it were true.
When Juliet’s eyes narrow into mere slits, I almost hold my junk, afraid she’s going to take her anger out on my balls.
“Well, good luck to you. All the Madisons I know are boring as batshit,” she says with bite. “Maybe I’ll book an appointment to see you. We can reminisce about the good old days.”
“No,” I reply, wishing she’d leave, as her presence here is dangerous.
What if Madison is planning to attend tonight’s proceedings with Max? If she saw me and Juliet together, she’d know something was up. I never want to be seen in Juliet’s company ever again.
“I must have been absolutely insane to sleep with someone like you,” I state, prowling forward, while Juliet pulls back, hurt. “I was happy to leave things amicable, or at least civil, but you turning up here is completely unacceptable.”
This is the second time I have actually seen any humanity in Juliet, and I intend to take full advantage of it.
“You were just a fuck, Juliet—one I sincerely regret. So if you have any pride, you’ll leave with your head held high, and leave me the fuck alone. Do not call me, message me, or turn up unannounced. You got it? We’re done.”
Her confidence diminishes and her poise is replaced with fury. “You’ll be back, and when you do, you’ll be begging for a second chance.”
“No, I really won’t,” I state, shaking my head. “Goodbye, Juliet. I so hope our paths don’t ever cross again.”
For once, Juliet Harte is speechless, and it’s a sight I’ll never forget.
28
Maybe in Another Lifetime
DIXON
Golf on a Saturday morning is as pretentious as it sounds, but it’s my one and only chance to talk to Chad and bond over hitting a small ball into a hole. After last night, however, I don’t want to think about any balls going into any holes.
With that thought in mind, I decide to steer clear of Rebecca the man-eater, and play the quickest round of golf—ever.
Sadly, my plans of a short game turned to shit when she decided she wanted to learn how to play. Eighteen holes never looked so daunting.
Thankfully, she has gone upstairs to change for lunch, and probably to fuck the caddy. Her promiscuity, however, has left me alone with Chad. We haven’t had a chance to discuss politics, and now that the piranha is gone, it’s all business.
We’re sitting in the club restaurant, surrounded by rich snobs who have way too much money and time on their hands. If it weren’t for my curiosity and scotch, I would be upstairs watching ESPN.
“So, Dixon, I’ve been thinking about your research.”
I casually nod while taking a bite of my club sandwich.
“When you’re finished with it, I would be happy to present it to the board on your behalf, and maybe sway them into backing your findings. Their support opens up many doors for you. You don’t have to only practice, you could teach, and being a recognized, board-endorsed doctor really looks good on the résumé,” he says with a wink. “I know you’ve worked hard to get where you are, but something like this moves you from amateur to pro in months. Next year,” he leans close, cupping his mouth, “it’ll be your name they’re calling out as the winner of the award.”
Chad is the devil, and I want in.
“Thank you, Chad. Your faith in me is something I don’t take lightly. This offer is really too much, but I would be a fool to decline. Thank you again,” I say, trying to remain composed.
Chad waves me off. “Thank yourself, Dr. Mathews. No one got you here but you alone. You should be proud of yourself.”
I smile, as his comment means a lot. “Regardless, I appreciate your support. If I can do anything to return the favor, please let me know.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” he replies with a chuckle as he takes a sip of water.
Sadly, our pleasant conversation is interrupted by Rebecca. “M
iss me, boys?” she says, and I nod with a stiff upper lip.
“Always,” Chad gushes.
“Muffin, your cell was constantly ringing when I was upstairs. I didn’t bring it down here as I knew you boys were probably catching up.”
“Oh?” Chad says, scratching his chin. “I wonder who that could be. All my colleagues are either here, or know I’m indisposed for the weekend.”
“Maybe it’s your ex-wife,” Rebecca sneers, cocking a daring brow.
“Now, darling,” he counters, but Rebecca blows him off by snapping open her compact and applying a coat of lipstick.
Chad sighs and looks to me for help, but I merely shrug, as he’s totally alone on this.
“I’d best see who that was,” he says after a moment of silence. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Before I can scream “take me with you” he’s off, leaving me alone with the gold digger.
The moment he’s gone, she shifts closer and runs a fingernail down my arm. “So…”
“So,” I parrot, moving my arm, as I’m surrounded by colleagues.
“Thought about my offer?” she asks, not at all discouraged by my rejection.
“There’s nothing to think about. The answer is, and always will be, no.”
When she makes an attempt to touch my leg under the table, I grab her wrist and push her hand away. “Stop it, Rebecca. I’m not interested. You are engaged to my friend, someone I respect, and your behavior is completely unacceptable.”
“If you don’t fuck me, I’ll tell Chad you came onto me,” she suddenly unveils, and I pull back, stunned.
“You can’t be serious?” I shake my head, but I knew she would use this tactic sooner or later.
“I’m very serious,” she affirms, her gray eyes widening. “All I want is one night, and then I’ll leave you alone. If not, well, Chad might not be so willing to help you out.”
