Blackout: A Romance Anthology

by Stephanie St. Klaire

  “Who was that?” she whispers once we’re outside the restaurant, glancing over her shoulder.

  The realization hits and I blink repeatedly. “I don’t know.” I stop walking and look back to where I was just sitting. He’s no longer there, as if he vanished. If Bernadette hadn’t seen him, I’d think I imagined the entire thing. “I never got his name.”

  “Pity,” she replies with a dismissive shrug of her shoulders. “He was quite the looker. But fear not. There will be more than enough eye candy for us tonight.”

  She grabs my hand and pulls me toward another night filled with bachelorette torture.

  CHAPTER 3

  A loud dinging rips through my hotel room as I place my toiletry bag in my suitcase Tuesday morning, grateful to be moments away from getting out of this town. I zip up my bag, then grab my cell to see a text from Izzy.

  Making sure you’re up and moving, since I know being on time isn’t exactly your strong suit. I’m headed to get a coffee. Reason number 8,437 I hate Vegas. No coffee makers in the damn room. The last thing I should have to do in order to caffeinate myself is put on a pair of pants. It’s cruel. Anyway, I’ll meet you in the lobby in a few.

  I marvel at how alike we truly are, despite being separated after my parents’ divorce.

  I’m up. I may perpetually be late, but there’s no way in hell I’m missing this flight. And please tell me you’re wearing pants. I think the airline will frown upon it if you try to board our flight sans pants.

  Eh. What happens in Vegas…

  Reading those words, I’m reminded of my Vegas mystery man and my tirade at the club when I thought he was trying to hit on me. I guess he was, but not like I originally thought. He was smooth, subtle, a gentleman. Something I’m not used to.

  As the weekend wore on, a part of me hoped to run into him yet again. Of course, that was at war with the other part that said it’s best we didn’t, that he’s different, that nothing good would ever come of it. But it doesn’t matter now, not when I’m minutes away from leaving this town.

  See you soon, Iz.

  I shove my phone into my purse, turn my suitcase upright, then do one last check of the hotel room. Confident I have everything I came here with, including my self-respect, which can’t be said for some of my fellow bridal party members, I walk out of the room.

  Once I’m in the elevator on my way to the lobby, I pull my phone out of my purse and type out a quick text to Evie. On paper, we shouldn’t even be friends. She’s obsessed with planning out every detail of every day, whereas my planner consists of sticky notes covering my cubicle at work, reminding me of different due dates, no organization to it whatsoever. Every time she walks by my workspace, I notice her twitch at the utter chaos that is my life. But that’s probably why we’ve become such good friends in the five years since she started working at the magazine. We complement each other.

  Headed to the airport. I should be back in town around 7.

  I can’t wait to hear all about it. You should do a piece about bachelorette parties for the magazine, but in a way only your cynicism can truly deliver.

  I type out a response, arguing I’m not that cynical, when the elevator slows to a stop on another floor and the doors open. Keeping my gaze glued to my phone as I finish my text, I step back to make room for anyone about to get on. That’s when a familiar scent hits me. I snap my eyes up, my body stiffening when I see him standing there.

  At first, he’s as surprised as me. I thought the first time we ran into each other was simply a chance encounter. The second a coincidence. But a third time? Nora, the hopeless romantic, would insist the universe was trying to tell me something.

  A mischievous smile gradually replaces his stunned expression and he enters, standing unnervingly close as he leans toward me to press the lobby button that’s already illuminated. Then again, he could be a football field away and I’d probably still experience this lightheaded feeling he seems to cause.

  The elevator doors close, leaving us alone in this tiny space, an electricity buzzing. Conscious of every sound, every heartbeat, every breath, I stare straight ahead, unsure what to say, how to act. My pulse increases with each drawn-out second, my mouth growing dry as I shift from foot to foot, ready to burst.

  When the silence becomes unbearable, I float my eyes to his, only to notice he’s unabashedly staring at me. Unlike our previous encounters, he’s dressed casually. Gone is the suit jacket or blazer. Instead, he’s wearing a white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows, revealing his muscular forearms. Khaki shorts hang from his hips, a pair of tan flip-flops on his feet. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he were headed to the beach. But we’re miles from the ocean.

  “Taking a day off from ruling the world?” My voice breaks through.

  “Ruling the world?” he asks, amused.

  “Exactly. You always act so in charge. So…in control.”

  His lips curve up into one of the most sensual grins I’ve ever seen. Screw Matt Damon’s sexy smirk, or Brad Pitt’s flirtatious smile. They have nothing on this guy.

  “I do like being in control.”

  I attempt to fight against the blush building on my cheeks, averting my gaze. All I hear is his voice from Saturday night. Say okay. Say thank you. And I did. It was so simple, so innocent, yet it lit me up in a way that left me craving him all weekend. His words. His presence. His…dominance.

  “I didn’t mean it like that.” I chew on my bottom lip, fidgeting with the hem of my jacket. “I meant you look and act like you have some high-powered job. Master of the universe and all that.”

  “Master of the universe?” He arches a single brow.

  “Yes.” I return my eyes to his, shrugging. “You know, He-man, and all that.”

  “Well…” Licking his lips, he closes the distance, the heat of his breath on my neck making me tremble. “Appearances can be deceiving. Wouldn’t you agree?” He pulls back, meeting my gaze.

  “They can be,” I reply thoughtfully, masking my shaky voice. “But something tells me they’re not. Not when it comes to you.”

  “Even the master of the universe deserves a day off to enjoy life’s…pleasures.”

  My nerve endings tingle as that one word hangs in the air, making me hyperaware of my heartbeat, which I’m confident they can hear in the casino. Hell, they can probably even hear it all the way at Hoover Dam.

  I swallow hard, my gaze fixated on his lips, thinking how much pleasure they could give me. Suddenly, the elevator comes to a stop and the doors open, the clanging bells of slot machines breaking our moment.

  I snap out of my daze, squaring my shoulders as I scramble out of the enclosed space and into the casino, able to breathe again. Normally, I hate the loud noise that meets me every time I step off this elevator, feeling much like the Grinch when he complains about all the “noise, noise, noise” down in Whoville. But right now, I find it comforting, at least compared to the anxiety that consumes me whenever I’m in this man’s presence.

  “Headed home?” I look to my right to see him catching up to me.

  “Thankfully, yes. One night in Vegas is too long. I’ve been here four.” I slow my steps when I reach the lobby, scanning the enormous area for any sign of Izzy. She’s probably still in a ridiculously long line for coffee. God, I hate this city.

  “Aren’t you headed to the airport?” he asks, gesturing out the revolving glass doors toward the constant cycle of cars.

  “I’m waiting for a friend. We’re on the same flight.”

  “Oh.” His expression momentarily falls, but he recovers quickly, returning to the confident man I’ve known him to be.

  “Well…” His voice is deep and authoritative. “It was nice seeing you again.”

  “You, too.”

  He hesitates briefly, and I can sense a hint of turmoil filling him. Then he turns from me, walking out the front doors. I can’t help but admire his long strides, muscular legs, broad shoulders, and wh
at I can only imagine is a firm ass. I almost don’t want to look away. But once he disappears from view, I do just that, exhaling a long breath as my nerves slowly roll off me.

  This is so unlike me. I don’t get nervous around men. I just…don’t. I always have confidence in spades, always retain the upper hand. I say when, I say where, I say how. But around him, I feel like I’m losing all control.

  A ping from my phone sounds, tearing me from my thoughts. Unlocking the screen, I read a text from Evie saying she’s spending the night at Julian’s and not to worry if she’s not at my place when I get home.

  I reply, telling her she should just officially move in with him. When her boyfriend of twelve years broke up with her, I offered her a place to stay, considering how difficult it is to find an affordable apartment in the city. But now that she has a new man in her life, she hasn’t spent much time at my apartment. I’m pretty sure she’s also stopped looking for a place of her own.

  As I finish my text, a slight movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention. It shouldn’t, considering it’s Vegas. This entire place is a constant wave of motion.

  Looking in the direction of the doors, I furrow my brows when I see my mystery man standing there, his impassioned stare trained on me. The intensity in his stormy green eyes sends a rush of exhilaration through me, leaving me breathless. Then he starts toward me and everything else seems to disappear. It’s…quiet. Gone are the obnoxious sounds of slot machines, the tourists rushing by, and the ridiculously loud club music filling the space, even at eleven in the morning.

  When he’s only a whisper away, my heart catches in my throat. No man’s ever looked at me this way before. Or maybe they have, but I ignored it. But I can’t ignore him. His hand palms the small of my back and he pulls me against him. This is the closest we’ve been, and it has me wanting more, to erase even the slightest bit of space between us. The feel of his body pressed against mine sends a spark through me, low and deep, igniting a flame I didn’t think would ever be lit again.

  He brings his other hand to my hair, wrapping his fingers around it, forcing my head back. I stare into his eyes, unable to escape. And I don’t want to, don’t want to leave this bubble.

  “I can’t leave,” he begins, his voice husky, low, sensual.

  “Sure you can,” I reply. “All you have to do is put one foot in front of the other and walk through those doors.”

  He slowly shakes his head. “No. What I meant to say is I can’t leave without…” His mouth inches even closer.

  “Without what?” I murmur, my lips tingling in anticipation.

  “Without kissing you.”

  My nerves stir as my stomach fills with the wings of a thousand butterflies, all of them screaming at him to finally get on with it.

  Recovering my composure, I pass him a demure look. “Then what are you waiting for?”

  His grip on me tightens and he yanks my body harder against his, his eyes flaring with unyielding desire. He gradually decreases the distance, this torturous dance of seduction making me even more on edge. I’m desperate to feel his lips, to know how they taste. All weekend, I’ve fantasized about his kiss. Most people would probably wonder what he was like in bed, how he fucked. Not me. There’s nothing personal about that. Kissing is much more intimate.

  Based on what little I know of him, I imagined he kissed with all the confidence he seemed to do everything else. At first, it would be controlled and reserved, but still addictive. He wouldn’t be able to hold back for long. It would explode into a passionate exchange, leaving me thoughtless, breathless, soulless, ruining me for all men who would come after him.

  When his breath dances on my flesh, I close my eyes, bracing to feel his full lips on me. Instead, boisterous voices infiltrate our bubble, a body slamming into me, causing me to teeter on my heels.

  I’m forced out of my trance, glaring at a bunch of drunk guys in their twenties, all of them carrying those huge plastic cups containing sugary, frozen drinks. It’s not even noon, yet they already look like they’ve been overserved.

  “Are you okay?” my mystery man asks, and I bring my eyes back to his.

  “Of course.” I straighten my jacket, even more happy to be going home than I was before. I’m about to ask where we were when a ping sounds. He reaches into his pocket, withdrawing his cell.

  “My Uber’s here.” He offers me an apologetic smile. Then he leans in, his mouth a whisper from my neck. “Safe travels.” He kisses my cheek, his lips lingering on my skin for several long moments. When he pulls away, he holds my gaze before retreating, leaving me feeling like a hormonally imbalanced high school freshman who was nearly kissed by the hot senior quarterback.

  I exhale a breath, taking a moment to collect myself. But I don’t have a moment. Izzy hurries toward me, eyes wide in curiosity.

  “Who was that?” The tone of her voice indicates she must have seen him kiss my cheek, at the very least.

  All I can do is shake my head as I shift my attention to the front doors and watch my mystery man slide into the back seat of a dark sedan. “Just some guy.”

  CHAPTER 4

  “So you mean to tell me that, of the three times you’ve seen him—”

  “Four, if you count him coming back to try to kiss me.”

  “Whatever…” Izzy waves me off. “That’s not the point. The point is that you never thought to ask him his name?” Her voice is filled with disbelief at the story I just relayed to her about my run-ins with Mr. Mysterious over the course of the weekend.

  With a shrug, I relax into my plush lounge chair, bringing my espresso to my lips as we sit in a quiet corner of the airline club. The hectic atmosphere of the airport is nowhere to be found. No screaming children being ignored by their parents who are exhausted after a long day of traveling. No annoying businessmen who feel the need to shout on their cellphones in the hopes that someone thinks they’re important. No assholes bitching out the poor airline employee who had nothing to do with the delay of the flight going to Denver, where there’s probably snow. In here, I’m able to have a moment of peace.

  “I did think of it.” I chew on my lower lip.

  “A name is usually the first thing I ask,” she interjects before I can say anything else. “You’d think with all the time you spent ‘bumping’ into each other this weekend, you would have gotten that much.”

  “It’s just… Every time I saw him…” I shake my head, struggling to come up with the words to describe how his mere presence consumed me. Normally, I’m the confident one. I’m the one calling the shots. I’m the one saying whatever’s on my mind without a care for what anyone thinks about me. But not around him. “It was quiet,” I finish thoughtfully.

  “Quiet?” Izzy gives me a sideways glance. “What do you mean?”

  I place my espresso on the table separating us and lean closer, lowering my voice. “All the noise of my life. It was…gone.”

  Understanding immediately washes over her, and her expression relaxes. Izzy’s one of the few people who truly knows me, all my secrets, all my scars. Yes, Nora’s been a great friend since we were college roommates, and once Evie was assigned the cubicle next to mine at the magazine, we formed a quick bond, considering she lacks any brain-to-mouth filter, much like myself. But Izzy knew me before. She knew me when my parents were still together. She knew me when it all fell apart, when I had to lie to my father about being sick so I could miss my weekend with him to take care of my mother during another one of her drinking binges. Something no teenage girl should have to do. But what choice did I have? She was the only family I had left after my father upgraded to a new one.

  “Sometimes you just need someone to quiet it for a minute,” she says thoughtfully.

  “Because of that, I didn’t think a name was necessary.” We share a look before I curl my lips into a wicked grin, lightening the mood. “You do have to admit the entire scenario is kind of hot. Not knowing his name, anything about him…”

 
“Kind of hot?” She fans herself, giggling. “Try off the charts! I noticed the chemistry between you two right away, even if all he did was kiss your cheek. It was incredibly…sexy. I can’t imagine how it made you feel.”

  “Like I could let go,” I say without hesitating. “For once, I didn’t worry about the fact that we’re polar opposites. That he’s presumably this guy who has his shit together, whereas I’m lucky if I don’t lock myself out of my apartment on a daily basis. But each time I saw him, I didn’t think about any of that, didn’t try to distance myself because of how it would play out. It’s almost like we were in our own little bubble.”

  “Sometimes bubbles can be good.” Then her eyes turn conniving. “Especially a bubble that sexy.”

  We both break into laughter. I lean back into my chair, at ease with the familiarity of joking with one of my oldest friends. If nothing else, at least I got to spend a little more time with Izzy this weekend than I usually do. While we both live in New York, her job as a nurse in the pediatric oncology unit at one of the local hospitals doesn’t give her much time off. Izzy’s one of those friends who you can go months without seeing, then pick back up as if you just saw them yesterday.

  “So, what do you think the girls are up to today?” I ask after a few minutes.

  “Knowing Bernadette, something cliché and inappropriate.”

  I roll my eyes. “Promise me if I ever get that lonely and desperate for attention, you’ll smack some sense into me and tell me I don’t need to stay in a loveless marriage, that there’s better out there for me.”

  “You know I will.”

  “And you’d better not allow me to ever wear a tank top that says ‘Bride’s Bitch’ or ‘Bitch of Honor’ again. Better yet, don’t allow me to ever wear any shirt with a humorous saying on it.”

  “Oh really?” She arches a brow. “What about your shirt that says ‘I like coffee, wine, and like, three people.”