by L. A. Rose
Wait.
There’s no way I just thought that.
Cleo’s incredible, and I’m feeling things I never felt before, but…grandkids? That’s a whole new level of commitment, and commitment and I have always been like hot chocolate and a summer day in Arizona. Not meant to be anywhere near each other.
But with Cleo, the idea of commitment feels somehow…right.
Which is a scary thing all on its own.
But I don’t need to think about that right now. The only thing I need to think about is how I’m going to show this girl the meaning of pleasure after dinner. How I’m going to carry her to my bed, undress her, set off some fireworks between those smooth, creamy thighs…
Maybe I don’t need to think about that. Not unless I want to walk into the restaurant with the world’s biggest hard-on.
Cleo smiles at me, and we walk into the restaurant together. It’s a nice place, if a bit campy—a candle on each table, soft paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling, the sound of jazz hanging over it all like a warm blanket.
Damn. Nothing will make you poetic like being in l—
Whoa. Almost slipped up with the L-word there.
“Come on,” says Cleo, pulling me toward the back of the restaurant. “Therese already texted me where she was sitting. I can’t wait for you to meet her.”
My brows furrow. “Meet her? I’ve already—”
But then we’re standing in front of her table, and Therese leaps up. Her date’s not here yet. If you asked an average guy which of the two sisters was prettier, he’d probably say Therese, but the average guy is an idiot. She’s the kind of woman that guys like, sure, all blonde hair and long legs and tanned skin, but Cleo’s beauty is softer. More real. The kind I prefer.
“Hey, Therese,” I say, a perfectly normal, friendly greeting.
Which is why I’m so blown away when she giggles, hooks her arm through mine, and pecks me on the lips with a, “Hey, you.”
Wait.
What?
I glance at Cleo automatically, who looks as shocked as I’m feeling. Instinctively I yank my arm back, but Therese’s got a grip like a dinosaur on steroids.
“Cleo, this is the guy I wanted you to meet,” she says, stroking my arm. “Adrian King. He actually went to our high school, so you might remember him! I’ve been running into him at the gym and I was never totally sure if it was one-sided or not, but he said yes when I asked him, and then I realized he was interested.”
Holy shit.
No way.
I have to explain. Have to explain quickly. The hurt and confusion written all over Cleo’s face are more than I can bear.
“Cleo, where’s your date?” asks Therese, craning her neck.
And my sweet Cleo stammers, “He, uh, must be running late. I…I’ll call him.”
I have to get a handle on this situation fast. With no idea of what else to do, I follow her lead. “Cleo, your phone’s in my car, and it’s locked. I’ll take you out to get it.”
Therese plants a kiss on my cheek before I can escape. “I’ll be waiting here, big boy.”
Cleo looks like she wants to run far, far away. Possibly to a different country. I’d join her. Instead, though, we walk toward the door.
As soon as we’re out in the night air, I grab her shoulders. “Shit, Cleo, I’m so sorry. Your sister does go to the same gym as me—”
“You never told me?” she whispers. A knife slices sideways into my heart, but it’s okay. I just have to explain.
“It never came up. But I swear I’ve never hit on her or anything before. When she asked me on a double date with you, I assumed she was asking me for you—”
I flash back on Therese walking toward me, sweat glistening over her body.
“Adrian! I wanted to ask you something. You know my sister Cleo? She wants to have a double date this Friday, seven o’ clock at The Frontier. You in?”
“Yeah, of course,” I’d said. “A double date is fine.”
I swallow. “I thought she was bringing her own date. I figured you’d decided you wanted our date to be a double thing and she happened to mention it first. I didn’t know she was into me. I had no idea.”
She’s shaking her head. I force a laugh. “It’s just a misunderstanding. Kind of a funny one, actually. I’ll go back in and explain—”
“You don’t get it.” She’s pale and quiet. “I made a promise to Therese. She’s insecure, and one time in high school we had a big fight over a guy. After that, I swore never to make a move on someone she already liked.”
“But you didn’t—”
“Yes, I did! Accidentally, but I did!” She smacks herself in the forehead and groans. “This could be really bad, Adrian. You don’t know what my sister is like with guys.”
I think about how she grabbed my arm. “Possessive?”
“Worse than that. She falls really, really hard. The way she looks at you—Adrian, she’s in love with you. She’s been talking about you for ages. I just never knew it was you. If she knew we have a thing, she’d never forgive me.”
“I’m sure she would,” I say, but it sounds empty even to my own ears.
“No. She wouldn’t. That’s just the way she is. She’s crazy and intense, but she’s my sister, and I promised myself a long time ago I’d never put a guy above my relationship with her.”
I’ve never seen Cleo like this—deadly serious, sad, but resolute.
“So what do you suggest?” I ask, trying not to let my tone betray what I’m feeling.
“We have dinner. We pretend my date never showed. You’re here as her date,” she says robotically.
“And…” I’m almost afraid to say it. “After dinner?”
She won’t look at me. “There is no after dinner.”
“Cleo.” A little bit of anger works its way into my voice. “I have no interest in your sister—”
“That doesn’t matter,” she interrupts. “She’s family. We can’t…we can’t be a we, Adrian.”
This can’t be happening.
She tries to smile. “I mean, it’s fine, right? We were just friends anyway. We can keep on being just friends. Only without the…other stuff.” Then her smile wavers. “You’ll still like me if we can’t do the other stuff, right?”
My heart breaks in three places. My hands tighten on her shoulders. “Cleo. I don’t give a shit about sex, or hooking up, about any of that. I only care about you.”
“So we can still be friends,” she says in a small voice.
I bore into her eyes with my own. “We haven’t been just friends for a while. We’ve been more than that. You know it’s true.”
She mumbles something indistinct.
“You have to understand how I feel about you.” My voice cracks. I sound pathetic, but I can’t stop. The doors have opened. “This has never been just about wanting your body. Not for one second. I want your heart so much more. I want it, because you already have mine.”
“Adrian…” she whispers.
“I need you,” I say raggedly. “Every piece of you. Your flaws, your fears, your craziness…you make me into a whole person. A better person. I can’t go back to being in pieces after finding out what it feels like to be whole.”
Her eyes are swimming. I can tell how hard she’s trying not to cry. She squeezes my arm.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “But we have to go back inside.”
“Can’t we just talk—”
But she disappears inside the restaurant.
The rest of dinner is torture. Therese talks excitedly, completely oblivious. I do my best to dodge her hand, which roams onto my shoulder, my leg, but I know Cleo notices anyway.
I want to get up. I want to storm out of the restaurant. I want to abandon this charade.
But I know doing that would just hurt Cleo more.
So I make conversation. I order the steak. I pay for dinner. All the while, Cleo smiles and nods and I’m amazed that Therese doesn’t notice the sadness just
below the surface.
And when I finally drive Cleo home, the only thing she says to me is goodbye.
~18~
TWO WEEKS LATER
“Good, Adrian, good. Now walk toward the camera. Slowly. Lift that chin. Give me a look like you’re a little dangerous…okay, maybe not that dangerous.”
I realize I’m glaring at the photographer like I’m about to pull his guts out through his mouth. I breathe out through my nose and let my expression settle back into the natural state its had for the past two weeks. Which is to say, vaguely murderous.
Apparently that’s what White Steel wants for their new brand.
“Perfect!” the photographer is yelling. He’s a few inches shorter than me and a hell of a lot scrawnier. I could tie him into a knot and toss him over my shoulder. He seems to realize this the same moment I do, because he stops his shouting and backs off.
“That’s just great, Mr. King. We won’t be needing any more from you today.”
He says today, like I’ll be back next week for a second round. I snort.
“That was amazing, Adrian!”
I turn, only for a gorgeous girl to wrap herself around me. Which isn’t normally something a guy would complain about, but ever since Cleo, I’ve kind of lost interest in the opposite sex.
And everything else.
“You’re a natural,” Naomi Senecal purrs. I’ve known her for two days of this three-day shoot, and she’s been acting like I’ve known her for a lot longer. “No wonder they fought to nab you. You’re everything White Steel represents. Intense, a little scary…and sexy.”
She runs a finger over my chest. I fight the urge to shudder. Naomi is the model White Steel used to pitch their line of women’s clothing—sleek, shiny, and professional.
She’s sleek, but she’s definitely not professional.
“We should go out for some drinks tonight.” She bumps her hip against mine. “The two new faces of White Steel. The paparazzi will love it.”
“First of all.” I put a good few inches of space between us. “I’m not the new face of White Steel. I’m doing this one shoot because I promised a friend, but there’s no way they’re using me to launch their new line. So the paparazzi has no interest in me. Second, I’m taken.”
“Taken?” Naomi snorts, her face hardening. “A guy like you, in a committed relationship? Are you serious? You should be out there, playing the field.”
“Let me guess,” I sigh. “You’re in the field.”
“Maybe.” Her fingers dance coyly over my arm. “It’s up to you to find out.”
The old me would have happily slept with Naomi. She’s a famous model, up and coming, with her face in more than a few magazines. And for a second, I try to get a bit of that old me back. The spark fizzles and dies.
“Sorry.” I turn away. “Maybe next time.”
She pouts. “You just said you won’t be back.”
I shrug and walk away.
They flew me to New York for the shoot. I wouldn’t have minded driving—it might have cleared my head, at least—but White Steel insisted on paying for the first-class ticket. And they hinted they’d love to pay for another one, to the Caribbean, for next month’s shoot.
But to be honest, all I’m interested in doing is sitting in my hotel room, opening up another six-pack, and trying to forget.
Suddenly, I feel a hand on my arm. I’m ready to shake Naomi off again, but it’s Arianna.
“I’m so proud of you, kiddo.” Her eyes are shining. “They’re saying they’ve never seen anyone with more natural talent. They want you, Adrian. They want you to be the new face of their brand.”
“Not interested.”
“You couldn’t ask for a better career, you know,” she tries. “All the comforts you could ever ask for. World travel, paid for. Fame and influence. The paparazzi become a pain after a while, but they’re easy enough to slip. Not many people get this opportunity.”
“And I only got it because I’m the son of Arianna,” I shrug. “That shine’ll wear off soon enough.”
“That may be why they asked for you in the first place, but it’s not why they want to keep you.”
“Don’t care.”
“Adrian King!”
She grabs my shoulder and gives me a hard shake.
“I know you’re still upset about this girl. But you need to settle on something to do with your life. You’re directionless, and you have been for a long time. This heartbreak is just making it worse.”
“So what do you suggest I do?” I say coldly. “Let go? Forget I ever met her? Because I can’t do that.”
“That’s not what I was going to suggest,” says Arianna tightly. “You should fight for her.”
“I can’t.” I run my hand through my hair. “We didn’t have a fight. I didn’t do anything wrong, and neither did she. The reason she cut things off was beyond my control. Her sister fell for me, and her relationship with her sister is very important to her. She doesn’t want to hurt her—”
“That’s bullshit,” Arianna cuts in.
I stare at her. “It’s Cleo’s choice. I’m not going to push her.”
“Also bullshit. The thing with the sister is just an excuse. Do you like her sister?”
“No. Of course not. I don’t even know her.”
“You’ve never done anything with her?”
“Jesus, no!”
“Then it doesn’t matter. It’s just a tiny blip, and Cleo’s latched on to it and is using it as an excuse to pull away. I like that girl, but there’s one thing I’ve thought about her from the beginning—that she’s afraid to hold on. That she’ll let go the first chance she gets, so she won’t be let go of first.”
I look away. “And you’re the expert.”
“Yes. I am the expert on girls like Cleo. I was like her once.” She gives me another shake. “And you need to prove to her that you’re in this for the long haul.”
“I’ve been trying to prove that since the day I ran into her out here.”
“You need to prove it, and then prove it again. You’re not a kid anymore. It’s time you step up and be a man. It’ll be hard, but I promise you, it’ll be worth it. You’re taking your life seriously for the first time. That means she’s something special.”
“She is,” I murmur.
Arianna releases my shoulder. “Then don’t let her go.”
~19~
CLEO
Tonight’s the night. The night I’m going to give him everything.
He tears off my clothes, his gaze searing me. His green eyes burn me inside and out. I’m so ready for this. More ready than I’ve ever been. He kisses me like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do—and it is. When I open my eyes, he’s vanished. Gone. He never existed
“Shit,” I mutter. “Let’s start over.”
Tonight’s the night. The night I’m going to give him everything.
I open the door to let him in, only to find him making out with my ex-boyfriend in the hallway
I bash my head on the keyboard. “What is wrong with me?”
Tonight was going to be the night. But I changed my mind. Before he arrives, I pack a quick bag and change into the ankle-length habit I ordered off the internet. It’s time to get thee to a nunnery
“Cleo,” Marie’s voice floats down. “You cannot make my main character into a nun.”
“Why not?” I demand. “Nuns live a great life. They get to dress up like penguins, they hang out inside all day, they don’t have to talk to boys. What’s the problem?”
“The problem is that my deadline is at the end of this month and Amelia and Jonathan haven’t had sex yet!” She slams her fist down on my desk and scans the rest of the page. “And Jonathan has blue eyes, not green.”
I mutter to myself.
“What was that?”
“I said, Jonathan can go jump in a lake. Preferably a lake filled with acid and fire. How’s that for a good ending?”
I expect Marie to sigh a
nd whack me over the head, but instead she leans against my desk and strokes my hair. “You need to talk to Adrian.”
“I do not, in fact. The only things I need are air and food and water and Netflix. The cardinal elements essential to human survival. Do you see talking to Adrian on that list? No? Me neither.”
“You’re acting like you’re mad at him,” says Marie softly. “But he didn’t do anything wrong.”
I throw up my hands. “I know he didn’t. It’s not his fault that my sister fell for him. But I’m not the kind of girl who steals guys from her sister. I’m just not.”
“That’s really all it is? You just don’t want Therese to be mad at you?”
I mumble something.
Marie leans closer. “What?”
“Jeez, Marie. I’m getting you a hearing aid for your next birthday. I said…yes, I don’t want Therese to be mad at me. I also know that no guy would ever pick me over Therese. So I’m killing two birds with one stone, really. One is the bird where my sister hates me, and one is the bird where Adrian ditches me for her. Stupid shitty birds.”
Marie lets out a long breath. “I knew it.”
“I hate it when people say that.”
“You cut Adrian off because you’re afraid he’d do it first.”
“Pshhhh. Maybe I also find him deeply unattractive.”
“Yeah, and I’m sure that’s why you were yelling in your sleep the other night, Adrian, harder, do it harder—!”
“I was dreaming that we were playing Whack-a-Mole,” I sniff. “You can only win if you swing the mallet hard enough.”
“He cares about you, Cleo. And you’re throwing that away because of your own insecurities. He got too close and you got scared.”
“What makes you the expert?” I snap. “You’ve never even had a boyfriend.”
She gestures around at the romance novels everywhere. “Uh, hello? All I do is read about relationships.”
