by Liz Crowe
By Thursday, she felt strong, alert and in control of her emotions enough to handle, what she knew would be a high-powered event. She’d had some late showings and pulled into her spot, already planning her evening of run, shower, salad and bed and nearly fell over Blake, who sat perched on her porch steps, beer in hand. She frowned, realizing he was already halfway to seriously drunk.
“What are you doing here? What’s wrong?” She took a seat next to him.
“He left.”
“Who?” But, she knew and her heart sank. “Oh honey,” she put her arm around him. He grimaced and shrugged her off.
“Whatever. It’s my fault.” He put the empty beer bottle down and reached for another. She grabbed it out of his hand.
“Come inside. Let’s get some water.”
“Leave me alone.”
“No, Blake. I’m taking care of you for a change. Now get the hell up and come inside.”
He let her lead him in. “Jesus, it’s clean in here.” He glanced around before flopping down on her couch. “Can I stay? I can’t face the house right now.” Sara’s heart broke for her brother as she watched a tear fall from under the hand he had over his eyes. She sat next to him.
“We suck at this, don’t we?” He sat and sucked back the water before groaning and lying back again.
“At what?” He stared up at the ceiling.
“At love.”
He snorted and turned on his side. “Yeah, I guess. What’s with the extreme organization in here? Hire a maid?”
“No. It’s Jack. Sometimes he brings out the good stuff too.”
She stood and drew a blanket up over her brother’s thin frame. “Stay, sleep it off. But, you have to talk to him. You guys can’t…” Her brother held up a hand.
“Stay together anymore apparently.”
“Don’t be silly Blake. It’s a temporary setback. Get your head on straight and work it out with him. You know you want to.”
“Big talk from the queen of noncommitment.” Instead of making her mad, the comment made her smile.
“Not for much longer. Now sleep.”
****
The week had provided enough stress and extra work to keep Jack on his toes. Unable to sleep, with details and last minute dilemmas swirling through his head, he usually gave up and drove down to his building – project he’d birthed, babied, and bullied from concept, to purchase, to fruition over the past year. He would forever associate it with the craziness that was his relationship with Sara. Doing mundane chores like fastening towel rods to freshly painted walls and installing light fixtures in the middle of the night brought him incredible peace. He’d even stayed in one of the empty condos a few nights, waking confused and sore from sleeping on a too-short couch.
But, he had a plan. Every day brought him closer to the one thing he now knew without a doubt he wanted. No detail of the massive party went un-sweated. Nor did the details for the penthouse flat he had outfitted for her. The one he planned to take her to the night of the party, to prove what he wanted, and get her to come to her senses.
They were meant to be together. He merely had to show her.
The Friday before the event he’d been in a sleep-deprived haze, but knew between him, Jason, and the new girl he’d hired a few months ago specifically to implement this party, everything would be absolutely perfect. He took the day off, did his usual ten miles in the November cold and collapsed in bed after a long hot shower, having spent the night before putting the finishing touches on the condo, ordering the finest champagne and making sure the florist remembered to add rose petals to his huge order of arrangements. By midnight that night he’d taken one last look at the place, large four poster bed with restraints, spanking bench and the box containing a new ring, one not so flashy and over the top, more in keeping with how he felt. Solid, sure and willing to prove he could be trusted; an emerald nestled between two diamonds, set in an art deco swirl of platinum.
Perfect.
He’d smiled, and flipped off the lights.
While he slept that day, dreams of Sara, her voice, hands, lips, laughter, eyes, and body that he knew so well flowed in and around his subconscious. By the time he awoke, he had a raging hard on to take care of, then showered and donned the new tux he’d had tailored for the occasion. He gulped down anxiety at the thought she might resist, without a single worry about the event itself. The party would be flawless and he’d have the place rented and sold within weeks. At least he felt confident about that.
He arrived as the caterer started setting up the tables in the back of the cavernous first floor retail space. The band had already set up. His friend Evan stood around watching as the bar with its ten taps and stainless-steel top was assembled, rolling his eyes when Jack arrived.
” ‘Over the top’ is your middle name, you know it Jackie-boy?” He smiled and slapped his friend on the back. “I gotta go change. See you in a few hours.”
Jack answered a few emails from his phone and watched as the well-planned event unfolded around him. He sent out a single text:
“Looking forward to seeing you tonight” to Sara, then rose and made a final pass through the room, making sure everything was ready for the big night.
Chapter Sixteen
Sara gazed at her image in the full-length mirror. A black, form-fitting dress with a halter-style, neckline plunging slightly in back, and a slit up the side to the middle of her thigh hung perfectly on her reflection. For this party she treated herself to this little number. She had spent the afternoon getting her hair put up and having a full manicure and pedicure at her favorite nail bar after running six miles in some pretty cold temps just to work up her nerve to attend the thing.
Her phone buzzed with a text. Craig. Her faced got hot as she read it. He had not responded to her first apology but she knew he’d gotten it.
“I’m certain you’ll be the hottest woman there, and we know what that does to certain colleagues of ours. I’m not saying don’t have fun Sara. Just be careful. Guard your heart. It’s important to me.”
She sighed, put the finishing touches on her makeup and squared her shoulders. After applying Chanel to her neck and wrists, she added simple diamond studs to her ears, suppressing the memory of last Christmas, when Jack had hidden them under her pillow, and slid her feet into sexy four-inch suede pumps. A strange beat of excitement played through her body as she climbed into the taxi.
She would have fun tonight goddamn it. She hadn’t been dancing in ages. All of her friends would be there. Blake even claimed he’d show. After a couple of days alone, he’d gotten less frantic and had promised her he’d be talking to Rob soon. She chewed the inside of her cheek nervously. Images of the one man she wanted to see kept swirling through her brain, making her forget the carefully practiced words she wanted to say to him.
Acutely aware of the bare state of her skin under the hot dress, she closed her eyes against the memory of his voice.
Yes. You want him. Tonight you could get him, you know; if you’d just let yourself own the power you have.
Yes, she knew what Jack liked all right, and figured he’d know exactly what she wasn’t wearing the moment he saw her. The thought of tormenting him felt sweet but wrong at the same time. Focus. This is about talking. Starting over, even, if it’s not too late.
The front of the renovated red brick building glowed from about a million small white lights and luminaries lining the sidewalks in both directions. The awning over the front door and a doorman in full uniform, opening car doors for people to walk across a short span of red carpet made her smile. Sara heard strains of Vivaldi softer and louder in time to the door’s opening and closing, as she eased out of her taxi, took the doorman’s hand and allowed herself to be lead to the door.
An attendant took her coat and her bag. Several friends immediately accosted her from other offices, laughing and pointing out the incredible features of the cavernous space. They went up about five open steps to an enormous room that was fl
oor to ceiling windows, just slightly above street level. Sara admired the familiar fifteen-foot ceilings, exposed mechanicals and ductwork, cork floors. A full bar temporarily dominated the huge room, with real beer taps behind the twelve foot long gleaming counter. Young women and men in white jackets and, in the case of the women, short black skirts and high heels wandered in and out of the crowd, carrying gourmet morsels for sampling.
She smiled to herself. They’d spent lots of late nights perusing plans and talking through various risky scenarios. The fact that he’d actually gone with the most dynamic of the plans, the one she’d advocated, made her ears ring. She tried not to look around too obviously for the man of the hour.
“Christ, what in the hell makes him think anyone would rent this?” Blake asked appearing at her elbow with a perfectly mixed gin and tonic in hand. He looked rested and calm, to her relief.
“Don’t be a cynic,” she demanded. “It’s amazing, and you know it.”
“Ok, so this practically unusable but sexy space is one thing–what’s upstairs?”
“Two types of condos–lofts and two bedroom units, all with front or side facing views,” she sipped the drink he’d brought her.
“You look great tonight.” She glanced at him, hoping her nervousness wasn’t too obvious.
“Thanks. Rob here?”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Yeah, he’s coming. We are working things out I think.”
She put an arm around his waist. “Thank God. You guys are my touchstone, you know? Giving me faith in coupledom.”
He snorted. “Well, so what’s up with you and our host?”
She sighed and leaned on his shoulder. “I’m a mess Blake. Can you fix it for me?”
He kissed her head. “Nope. But at least you admit it’s a mess. That’s half the battle isn’t it?”
She watched the well-dressed crowd ebb and flow, wishing for just a glimpse of him. Then berated herself for needing that. Blake leaned into her ear. “He’s right over there.” She started, pulled away. He smiled, and kissed her cheek. “It’s okay Sara. I get it.”
Blake turned around to point out a knot of people gathered in the center of the room. An older woman, at least fifty and incredibly classy in a slim cream pantsuit was leaning back as Jack spoke, a slight smile on her lips. There were about seven people gathered around, chatting, but mostly listening as Jack gave his spiel.
“She owns the rights to the Urban Outfitters franchise in this region. Jack is about to close that deal for this space. He is such an incredible prick, but he could sell an Eskimo an ice cube, huh Sara,” he laughed. “And the man can throw a party.”
She took one last look at him at him and turned away to mingle, and caught up with Jennifer Stewart, who gave her a warm hug.
“Well if it isn’t my favorite Stewart Realtor,” Jenny said to her, as she smiled and held her at arm’s length. Sara finished her drink and set it on a passing tray held by one of the beautiful hired helpers. Several other colleagues joined them. Greg walked up and put his arm around his wife’s waist.
“Yes, my dear, agents like you are the future of our company, no doubt.” As he spoke Sara’s skin started tingling. Jack had broken away from his conversation with the potential tenants, and moved towards them, but stopped to laugh, hug and kiss the many women who reached out for him. Sara rolled her eyes, and tried like hell to calm her suddenly racing pulse.
“Whew,” he wiped his brow and shot his cuffs. “The gauntlet has been run. What do you guys think? Good party, eh?” He grinned at the group in general, avoiding Sara’s eyes.
Blake was at her elbow again, with a fresh drink in one hand. She leaned into him, grateful for his support.
“I was just telling Sara that it’s professionals like her, and like you, Jack, that are the real future of our business,” Greg slapped the taller man on the back and moved away, already having a new conversation with a different group.
“Sara, good to see you,” the warm hand on her back made her skin pebble. She stared straight ahead determined not let her body react, not to succumb to the pure chemistry that swirled between them. Images of the photo she’d deleted flashed in her vision, along with an epiphany. In every single photo she loved from their amazing New Years’ vacation, either Jack or she was intent on the other. Never once did their eyes meet. Every one of those pictures reflected exactly what was wrong between them. They never met half way; never gave as much as they got. But their late night chats, where they opened up and really talked, had given her strength. She straightened up, realizing this was neither the time nor place to get into it.
“Nice event Jack. Well done.” She meant it but realized nothing short of perfection would do for him.
A weight settled in her stomach. She should leave. It was a mistake to come here. He looked so amazing in that tux, complete with black shirt and tie, classy, understated. She had to clench her fists against the impulse to slip her hand into the crook of his elbow as he worked the room, doing what he did best. Her resolve to talk slipped a little further beneath the haze of lust and physical need she figured she must have been wearing like a “Hello my name is” sticker.
Jack had made a quick perusal of the general environment around him, as any good host would, making sure food and alcohol flowed, and people kept smiling and laughing, enjoying themselves. This was his element, truly, and he had even been able to ignore Sara once he realized she’d entered the place, at least until now. She looked like a million fucking bucks in that dress. The line of her neck sorely tempted him, exposed and elegant. He shoved his hands into his pockets and kept talking to the people all around him, his brain on autopilot.
He knew, just as he knew his own shoe size, that she had nothing on underneath, just as he liked it. When she took a step away from him, he mirrored her. Buttoning his jacket to hide his reaction to her, he spotted Suzanne and Evan across the room. “Save me a dance,” he whispered, and escaped before he grabbed her by the hand and dragged her upstairs. He suddenly had a vision of her working the party with him, as he knew she could. His desire for that nearly overwhelmed him. As he made his way across the crowded room, he reminded himself of tonight’s goal. Reinforced his determination to finish this night the way he had planned, which meant he couldn’t tip her off too early to his eagerness.
“I have the retail space seventy-five percent rented, but give Jason a call tomorrow if you want to discuss the basement.” He tossed the comment over his shoulder, responding to a question about availability, as he moved quickly away from her.
Sara drained the drink in her hand, laughed, and moved from group to group, accepting their kudos at her recent successes, aware of how the men watched her breasts and her ass which were hugged just so by the clingy material. She played it up, touching their arms, and smiling as if whatever stupid shit came out of their mouths constituted the cleverest statements she’d ever heard.
When she looked up her eyes met his. She swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat. How the hell did he do that anyway? He could anticipate every emotion, every small nuance of mood and the electricity crackling between them now set off a small flame of sheer lust in her core. She looked away, frowned and plunged back into the crowd that had grown and gotten steadily louder, drowning out the string quartet that played in one corner.
Sara grinned into a fresh drink, recalling the argument they’d had over music. He hadn’t wanted the live performer’s expense but she insisted and he must have stuck with that plan. Something made her look up. Jack held up a glass across the room, and stared straight at her. Damn. She looked away. How did he do that?
Shaking her head at herself, she made her way over to the bar. Jason stood, beer in hand, observing the room. “Nice work.” His face twisted into an ironic smile.
“Yeah. I’ll be glad when it’s over. But the party planner did a good job.”
Leaning back against the stainless steel bar top she tried to relax. Jason perched on a chair. They watched in comf
ortable silence as the crowd grew, and the musicians packed up their instruments. The rock band members had arrived and the transition would be quick, ramping up the vibe to true party level soon. “What happened to doing this last week? You guys were ready, I know you were.” Jason shot her a strange look.
“Jack changed it. Cost a fortune to re-print the invites I can tell you.” He leaned close to her ear. “He’s been a machine lately. Don’t know what’s up with you guys but…”
She moved away. “There is nothing up with us, Jason. You know that.”
He shrugged. “Maybe there should be. He’s going nuts Sara, honestly.”
“Not my problem,” but the hand holding the drink to her lips shook. She did not need this right now. “Oh hell,” she caught sight of a tall, thin woman with jet black hair break loose from a group and head straight for. “What now?”
Jason put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ve got your back.” She rolled her eyes at him then faced Heather, the one woman who had seemingly stood in the way of her happy ending. She looked nervous, but determined.
“Look, Heather, spare me another reminder about who owns Jack, okay?”
The tall woman took a deep breath and gripped Sara’s arm, startling her. “I’m sorry, honestly. Can we talk a second?” Sara glanced at Jason, who shrugged and moved into the crowd, leaving them alone. A tingling in her scalp signaled Jack’s eyes on her again. She looked across the room and saw him, frowning at the sight of the two women standing together. He raised an eyebrow at her. She mouthed “it’s okay” to him before turning her attention to the tall brunette with her long fingers clenched together. She opened her mouth speak but Heather beat her to it.
“You have to get back together with him.” Sara closed her eyes. What in the hell?
She reopened them, leveling a stare at the woman.
