When in Paris... (Language of Love)

by Beverley Kendall

  “Scott Carver.” He sticks out his hand and I hesitantly take it because that’s the mannerly thing to do. His grip is gentle yet firm, his hands dry and large. All very well and good. With his name, however, I draw a blank.

  “Our brothers work together,” he prompts, clearly seeing the confusion on my face.

  He takes so long releasing my hand, I’m forced to take it back.

  “Oh, Scott. Right, I remember now.” Damn, I totally forgot about him. My brother was supposed to have given my number to him ages ago.

  “I just heard that guy call your name and prayed to God you were the same girl my brother told me about.”

  I smile despite myself. Scott is certainly straightforward in his approach. I should like that, given everything that’s gone on between me and Zach but I’m not sure I do. Or maybe it’s just that I don’t want any guy hitting on me right now.

  “What was that, two months ago?” I ask dryly.

  Suddenly the noise in the room goes up several decibels as chants of Moose Moose Moose ring out from the living room where a bunch of students are playing a shot game. Scott steers me to a quieter spot near the stairs. He positions himself in front of me, leaning down with his forearm braced against the wall at my back.

  “I’d have called you if I knew Olivia Montgomery was you.” His expression clearly indicates carnal intent.

  I chuckle. “So if I’d turned out looking better wearing a paper bag over my head, you’d have been glad you stayed away, right?”

  For a second he doesn’t say anything, probably afraid he’s going to say the wrong thing and offend me. I decide to let him off the hook. “Just kidding. I totally understand. I bet you thought your brother was trying to hook you up.”

  Looking relieved, Scott lets out a breath and a laugh. “Yeah, and I have historical data to back it up. The way my brother describes me, you’d think I was some poor lonely schmuck stuck in my room Friday and Saturday nights.”

  Just looking at him, his green eyes, his perfect white teeth and crooked smile, I can see that that can’t be further from the truth.

  “So what about you? Your brother trying to hook you up?” His eyes tell me he’s more than game for that.

  I give a soft laugh. As come-ons go, he’s not original but he’s cute, smells pretty good and isn’t slurring his words. Which is more than can be said about most of the guys at the party.

  “No, my brother’s not like that. He knows well enough to stay out of my love life.”

  Scott leans in a little closer. “Your love life. I really like the sound of that.”

  The front door opens and with it a wave of cold air sweeps in. I shiver despite my long-sleeved cable-knit sweater I have on. My glance over Scott’s shoulder is cursory, the same one I give every time more people filter in. This time my gaze is snagged and caught by familiar pale-blue eyes that currently appear a dove gray and are narrowed and staring directly at me. There I go again, noticing those little things about him.

  My breath releases in a whoosh as my hand curls into a fist. Taking in my reaction, Scott follows the direction of my gaze. His look is accessing before he angles his head back to me.

  “Your boyfriend?”

  It requires some effort, but I manage to yank my gaze from Zach, whose tight jaw and unsmiling face makes it clear how one of his favorite people I am not.

  “No, he’s just a guy I know.” An understatement to end all understatements.

  Scott shoots another glance back at him as Zach advances down the hall. I see Mike flanking him on the left.

  “Not that it’s any of my business, but just how well do you know him? He’s not looking too happy with me right now.” Scott looks down at me. “I usually like to be forewarned if I’m going to have to throw down, ya know?” He doesn’t sound nervous but there’s definitely a note of caution in his voice.

  I stifle a snort of derision. “You definitely don’t have to worry about anything like that. Zach and I are not involved.” Unless you count three weeks ago when I gave him my virginity. That, of course, goes unsaid.

  The next time I look up, Zach’s gone, melted into the crowd. I ignore my acute sense of disappointment and try to concentrate on what Scott is saying.

  “—you don’t have a boyfriend, how about I take you out tomorrow night?”

  “Um, what?”

  “Can I take you out tomorrow night?”

  Crap. Absolutely the one thing I need and don’t need.

  “Hey, Liv, I got your—”

  At the sound of Rebecca’s voice, Scott’s head snaps up and swivels Exorcist-style. Rebecca comes to a jarring halt, her lips parted, her eyes wide.

  “Scott.” She all but spits the word out.

  “Becca.” Gone is the easygoing charmer of seconds ago. Scott’s features are now a frozen blank mask.

  “Do you two know each other?” My question is rhetorical because it’s not only obvious that they do, but that their past interaction clearly didn’t leave them best friends.

  Scott clears his throat but that’s the extent of his response. Rebecca, on the other hand, grabs my hand and yanks me away from the wall—away from Scott—and before I know it, I’m being carted along a hallway leading to God knows where.

  The second we’re out of earshot, she whips around and faces me. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from him. Scott is a total dog.”

  This is Rebecca. Easygoing and loving Rebecca. With enough venom pouring out of her right now to take down a herd of rhinoceroses.

  Bewildered, I shake the cobwebs out of my head. “W-what? Why? How do you know him?”

  I’ve never seen her so pissed, her blue eyes storming and her jaw tight enough to crack walnuts.

  “He’s my lying, cheating ex.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  OLIVIA

  Okay, not what I expected to hear.

  My chin drops and my eyes go round. “Scott?”

  “Yes, Scott,” she growls through gritted teeth.

  Kevin Bacon eat your heart out. The game should be renamed three and not six degrees of Olivia Montgomery.

  “He cheated on you?”

  After a long pause, Rebecca blows out a stream of air that lifts strands of burnished, dark hair from her forehead. “Well technically we weren’t together but he started dating again not even two weeks after I broke up with him.” An implicit “the cad” is there in her tone.

  Okay, not exactly my definition of a cheat.

  “What did he lie to you about?” I need to gather all the facts before I cast judgment and so far Scott’s not the bad guy she’s painting him.

  Her expression goes from uneasy to indignant, anger flashing in her eyes. “How do you tell someone you love them and then two weeks later go out on a date with a girl you claimed you weren’t interested in?”

  Right. So it doesn’t look like Scott’s either a cheat or a liar but I’m not about to tell my fire-breathing friend that. Hell no. I try to steer the conversation to a slightly safer topic. “How did you guys meet?”

  “We met last fall during a campus visit. He’s from Los Angeles so he’d drive over and visit me as much as he could. We even spent spring break in Florida together and then took summer classes here because we couldn’t wait until September.” No longer angry, there’s now a wistfulness to her voice.

  “So what happened?” I ask gently. The whole thing sounds like it was pretty serious between them.

  Her expression shutters and her shoulders drop as she shakes her head. “Nothing. I mean it doesn’t really matter, we’re done.”

  “Becca! Where the hell are you?” The strident female voice sounds like it’s coming from the bowels of the house.

  “Damn. That’s Sarah. I promised to get the food from the kitchen. Hold on, I’ll be right back,” Rebecca says.

  She’s gone before I have a chance to pressure her into answering me, which I planned to do. Seconds after she disappears around the corner, I feel a presence b
ehind me. Like right behind me.

  I turn, expecting to see Scott, who I’m sure is eager to offer an explanation to what I’d just witnessed. I couldn’t have been more wrong. The guy hovering behind me is none other than Zach, his expression just as grim as when I saw him minutes ago. Scratch that, grimmer.

  I actually take a step back, I’m so shocked to see him this close, and bump into the wall behind me. Zach takes a step closer and braces his forearm, exactly the way Scott had done, on the wall at the side of my head. He bends his head so his mouth is near my ear. I drag in a breath of air and with it the subtlety of his cologne and warm male skin. Being this close to him after so many weeks is like a kick of excelsior.

  “Who’s the guy?” he asks, his voice a low rumble in my ear.

  It takes everything in me not to shiver as the sound vibrates down my spine.

  “A friend.”

  His mouth kicks up at the corner into a smirk.

  “Right.”

  His tone is so obviously disbelieving, now it requires Herculean self-control not to smack him even though I miss him so much my heart hurts.

  “Anyway,” he continues, his eyes narrowing and growing hard as flint as he stares down at me. “Here’s the thing. If you’re trying to make me jealous, you’re wasting your time. I wouldn’t want you to put yourself out too much tonight, so remember that and go easy on the guy, ’kay?”

  Raising his head, he flashes me a tight, icy smile and pushes off the wall as he continues to hold my gaze. In his final gesture of arrogance, he runs the back of his index finger gently down my cheek while his jaw ticks. “Have a nice evening, Liv.” With that, he turns and saunters back down the hall.

  Our encounter didn’t even last a minute but the whole thing seemed to go by at a snail’s pace and it takes me what feels like an eon to recapture and fully comprehend the insult he just dealt me.

  The more I go back over the one-sided conversation, the more pissed I get. Jealous. Like I was even thinking about that. I met Scott, what, ten minutes before he arrived? How like Zach to project his shit onto me.

  I march toward the kitchen in search of Rebecca, wishing April had broken her date and come. She’d know what to do, know what to say to me. No doubt, she’d say I need to be the bigger person and not respond but I so want to.

  As I turn the corner, I run headlong into Scott. Perfect.

  “Shit. Sorry about that,” he says, his expression guarded. “Look, I don’t know what she said to you but I’m sure it went something like I’m the biggest asshole of all time. Anyway, whatever she said, just remember there’re two sides to every story.”

  Of course my first loyalty is to my friend and not some guy I just met even if he’s not the cheat and liar Rebecca claims. He had to have done something to her, hurt her in some way to make her react to him the way she just did. Plus, right now the whole male species can go hang as far as I’m concerned.

  A movement in my peripheral vision catches my attention. Turning, I see Zach framed in the arched doorway leading to the butler kitchen and at his side is a brunette with boobs the size and shape of basketballs. She looks like she’s doing her best to fit herself into his front pocket. I turn away but not before he catches me staring. His smile goes from faint to mocking as he raises an eyebrow.

  Jerk!

  “Scott, let’s not talk about it now, okay? Actually, I’m getting ready to go. I’m not really in mood for a party tonight.”

  “Liv.”

  At the sound of Rebecca’s voice, Scott closes his eyes and exhales heavily. Wearily. It’s amazing how much my friend can sound like my mother at her most disapproving.

  “Listen, Rebecca, I’m going to go home. You wanna ride back?” I give Scott a tight smile and a nod before stepping around him. He doesn’t turn around but I’m sure he feels Rebecca’s stare skewering him.

  “No, I’m good. Cassie will take me home.” She may be talking to me but her gaze keeps darting to her ex as he retreats to places unknown. Then as if she realizes how closely I’m scrutinizing her actions, she gives me her full attention. “Listen, I saw Zach. Are you alright?” she asks, her red-lipsticked mouth pursed in concern.

  “I’m fine.” I don’t mean to sound so clipped in my reply but as good as my acting skills are, I don’t seem to be able to fake things all that well when it comes to Zach.

  She pats my arm, her eyes full of sympathy. “Don’t worry. You’ll get over him—it—whatever. You’ll make it through this.”

  Like you’ve done? I want to ask her because it’s so obvious she’s far from indifferent to her ex. Needless to say, those are hardly placating words but I appreciate the sentiment behind them.

  “I’ll be fine. I just need some rest. I’ll call you tomorrow and maybe we can hit the outlet in the afternoon.”

  We part at the door. The air is frigid out tonight and my breath is a wispy cloud of gray condensation as I hurry to my car. I’m rooting in the bottom of my purse for my keys when sounds of the party going on inside are amplified ten times. The subsequent slam of the door throws the night air back to relative quiet, save the giggling of an obviously drunk girl. Still searching, I angle my head and spot Zach advancing in my direction, a tall brunette plastered to his side, her face buried in his neck and by all appearances, nibbling on his ear.

  Suddenly I can’t see, my eyes are blinded by tears. I whip back around and now the search for my keys takes on a life-and-death struggle for survival. The second I find them buried in one of my purse’s miscellaneous pockets, I unlock the door and bolt inside. Behind the wheels, my hands are shaking, my throat is so tight it’s hard to breathe in the icy night air.

  Knowing I shouldn’t but unable to help myself, I raise my gaze to the rearview mirror, giving me a bird’s eye view of Zach and his skanky date for the night. He’s trying to pry her hand from around his neck as he’s staring directly at me. I immediately drop my gaze and jab the key in the ignition and start the car. It’s pretty dark outside so I pray he didn’t see me staring at him.

  The rear lights spotlight them—now I can’t avoid looking at them if I want to back out of my parking spot since running them over, though tempting, is not an option.

  Breathing shallowly, I wait as they make their way to Zach’s truck. Although I’m looking everywhere but at him, I can feel him staring at me hard.

  The second it’s all clear to reverse, I back out carefully, then peel out of there like a fireman heading to a fire.

  ***

  ZACH

  Olivia hightails it down the road, and I watch her taillights disappear into the moonless night.

  Shit shit shit shit!

  “Your p-place or m-mine,” Jennifer slurs, tottering on her high heels. Who the fuck wears sandals in late fuckin’ fall in northern New York? Right, a girl who’s falling-down drunk and doesn’t have the sense God gave a pea. And I’m her designated driver for the night. The problem is, she can’t keep her goddamn hands off me.

  There are some guys who’ll sleep with girls in her condition but having sex with someone who can barely stand and who barely knows her own name isn’t my style. Sober and into it is my motto, thanks very much.

  “Your place,” I reply tersely. Where I’ll deposit her into the waiting arms of her roommate or barring that, in her house and I’m outta there. I’ve been the good Samaritan and I’ve done my duty for the night.

  “Great.” She practically purrs the word and places her hand on my thigh, so close to my crotch, she could be giving me a hand job.

  Normally, I’d be more amused than anything else when dealing with a drunk chick who can’t keep her hands to herself, but with Olivia dominating my thoughts, I’m just plain pissed off. I’m not in the mood for this. I remove her hand from my thigh and drop it in her lap. “I’ve got to drive.” Drunk as she is, I guess the fact that all I’ve been doing is peeling her off me isn’t a big enough hint that I’m not interested.

  She’s a junior and shares a house with five other g
irls. The house is only a couple miles from the campus so it only takes me ten minutes to get her there. Two of her roommates are home and I help—half carry—her to the door where I drop her off and leave without giving her another thought or a backward glance.

  I barely remember the drive back to my apartment. It’s like I’m on autopilot. Troy’s out on a date tonight, taking advantage of one of the few weekends we don’t have an evening practice or a game.

  I can’t get the image of Olivia’s face out of my head. I’d just accused her of trying to make me jealous and then she sees me leaving with Jennifer. I’m not sure if she thinks I’m playing a game of tit-for-tat or that I just don’t give a shit and have completely moved on from her.

  As if. Not wanting a serious relationship doesn’t mean I don’t want to talk to her, hang out with her, have sex with her. I throw myself onto the sofa and flop the back of my hand over my eyes.

  Who the hell was the guy hanging all over her? I told her I don’t get jealous—which is normally true—but tonight I so badly wanted to rip into that guy. And there’s no way I was going to leave that party with them huddled in the corner together. Then I saw her leave and just like that the party held zero appeal. I’m not even sure I wouldn’t have followed her and tried to talk some sense into her if Sarah, the girl hosting the party, hadn’t begged me to take Jennifer home since I was leaving.

  You want to have your cake and eat it too.

  That’s what she’d said. And what the hell does that mean anyway? If I’ve got cake, what else would I do with it? That phrase never made any sense to me.

  I feel my cell vibrate against my thigh. My thoughts go immediately to Olivia. Shit, if she’s even calling to bitch me out, I’ll take it. That’s how much I want to talk to her right now. But when I pull it from my jean pocket, I see Ashley’s name flashing on the screen.

  I didn’t return her calls or texts yesterday so I know I need to pick this up or there will be hell to pay.

  “Hey.” I try not to sound as aggravated as I am but my voice is coming from a very dark place right now.