by M. S. Parker
“And they're the only thing in your closet that doesn't make you look like a schoolteacher.” She folded her arms and gave me her best 'don't argue with me' look.
“But I am a schoolteacher,” I retorted, earning another eye roll from my friend. Despite my comment, however, I slipped off my robe and started to dress. I'd already chosen a pair of white lace panties and bra, but that was because I didn't really have much of an option. The only lingerie I had that was truly fancy was what I'd bought for my honeymoon, and that wasn't something I was prepared to wear just yet, especially not on a first date with a stranger.
“That's better,” Mindy said as she looked me over with a critical eye.
I looked at myself in the mirror. I was still the same size I had been when I was nineteen and that was a good thing. I didn't think I'd have been able to fit in this outfit if I'd put on any weight. The skirt was tight black leather that hit me mid-thigh, just barely long enough that I didn't look trampy. The shirt looked more like a camisole than something I should wear in public. Thin straps, clinging material and short enough that if I raise my arms too high, I'll be showing off a strip of golden flesh. The skirt was black, the shirt a deep, rich purple that made my eyes look darker than usual. In a detached sort of way, I knew I looked good, but there was a difference between knowing it and knowing it.
Mindy reached up and teased my curls back into place. “I still can't believe you cut off your hair.”
I frowned. “I needed a change.”
She wrapped her arms around me and put her cheek on my shoulder. “I know you did, and that's why it's so important you do this. You deserve to have it all, Bree.”
I didn't say anything, but I let her hug me. I knew she meant well, but moving on wasn't going to be as easy as my friends seemed to think it should be. It wasn't like some casual encounter was going to mend my broken heart. I wasn't going to find a Prince Charming to erase seven years with love at first sight. I believed in real love, but I just wasn't sure it applied to me anymore.
Chapter 4
I stood in the doorway and scanned the crowd at O'Mallys, searching for my date. Mindy had given me a basic physical description, but I didn't have a picture or anything like that.
“Bree?”
I turned my head toward a man sitting at the bar, waving at me. I made my way through the crowd to the empty seat next to the man I assumed was Steven.
“Steven Danforth.” He held out a hand and I shook it. “You look even more beautiful in person.” He grinned, a dimple creasing one tanned cheek. “Mindy showed me a picture of you so I'd know what you looked like.”
As I took a seat next to him, I wondered what picture she'd used.
“So you and Mindy went to Myrtle Beach for spring break last year?”
I groaned. I knew what picture she'd used and I was going to kill her. Adelle had paid for the three of us to spend a week at a beach house last year. The three of us had been on a private beach half the time, which meant I was fine wearing the skimpy bikini Adelle had bought, insisting I start on my wedding tan. I generally avoided having my picture taken, but it had been vacation, so I'd given in and taken a few. All three of us had framed pictures from that week and Mindy's were of the two of us in our bikinis.
I nodded. “A friend of ours rented a beach house.” A wave of relief washed over me as the bartender approached. I really needed something to take the edge off. I ordered a Sea Breeze. I was a bit of a lightweight when it came to drinks, so I wanted something I could sip on all night rather than down in one gulp.
“I'll take another Irish Car Bomb,” Steven said with another easy smile. As the bartender left to get our drinks, Steven angled himself toward me so it was obvious the two of us were here together. “You and Mindy work together?”
“I teach English.” I tried to cross my legs and discovered that my skirt was too tight to do that. I had to settle for crossing just my ankles.
“If you'd been my English teacher, I might've actually done my own homework.” His eyes sparkled, telling me he was joking. He leaned forward slightly so that our knees were touching. “Seriously though, how in the world do your students concentrate with someone as gorgeous as you teaching them?”
I blushed. His compliments might've been on the clichéd side, but they were the first ones I'd gotten in what felt like a long time. Ronald and I had been in one of those long-term couple ruts where compliments were few and far between, so having someone tell me how beautiful he thought I was, no matter how cheesy the line, was nice. Still, the attention made me squirm.
“What do you do?” I asked, almost blurting out the question to shift things away from me.
He looked pleased that I asked, but didn't answer until he downed his entire drink in one go. Wow. Definitely not a lightweight. I sipped at my Sea Breeze, taking it slow. My nerves, however, kept me coming back for more as Steven began to talk.
“I'm an advertising executive at Harman and Foreman.” He paused to speak to the bartender, “Bourbon this time. Neat.” He glanced at me. “And another Sea Breeze for the lady.”
I started to say that I didn't need another one, but then I glanced down and saw that my drink was already half gone. Apparently I'd been drinking more than I'd realized.
“Anyway,” he continued. “I started at the agency right out of college – Columbia, with honors – and got a promotion within six months.” His eyes ran down the full length of my body and then back again.
As I finished my drink, I let his words wash over me. It seemed that once I'd gotten the pump primed, he wasn't about to slow or stop. He told me all about how his company relied on him because he was the best at what he did. As our conversation shifted from his work to his hobbies, I got the impression that he was the best at everything he did – at least, according to him. A champion swimmer. Good enough to be a ski instructor. Better surfer than half those assholes who got all the attention in Hawaii.
If it hadn't been for the fact that I was halfway through my second Sea Breeze, I would've yawned and told him I was too tired to stay out any later, never-mind the fact that it was only eight o'clock. Instead, I decided to enjoy the free alcohol and let him drone on and on about what I was quickly beginning to understand was his favorite subject: himself.
“What do you think about that?”
I suddenly realized that he was asking me a question. I gave him my best charming smile and hoped he'd repeat what he was talking about so I didn't have to look like a complete idiot and ask.
“I mean, I know most women don't like hockey, but I think if you saw me play, you'd feel differently.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and it was harder than I thought. I needed to slow down on the drinks or I wouldn't be able to stop myself from blurting out whatever I was thinking. I tended to have impulse issues when I got drunk.
“I actually do like hockey,” I said. At least I wasn't slurring my words yet. “My brother played when we were kids.”
“Does he play now?” Steven asked. “Maybe he could go a little one-on-one with me so you could see my skills. I never disappoint when it comes to physical prowess.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and I almost laughed.
I finished my drink and set the glass on the counter. I frowned. When had I gotten a third one? I could've sworn I'd only had two, but there were three little stir stick things on the bar next to me. Another Sea Breeze had magically appeared. I knew it wasn't a good idea, especially since I hadn't eaten anything since my salad at lunch, but it was beckoning me, telling me that if I drank it, the last of the fuzzy hurt I was feeling would go away. I scowled at the glass as if it were personally responsible for the fact that I was pretty sure I was in for a hell of a hangover tomorrow.
“Are you okay?” The question should've been concerned, but it sounded more like Steven was annoyed that I'd interrupted what I was sure had been a fascinating story about something amazing he excelled at.
“I have to use the restroom,” I announced. I
slid off of my stool, preparing to make a confident exit, only to find that I wasn't exactly in the best shape to stand.
Everything tilted as a wave of dizziness washed over me. I put out my hand to steady myself and heard breaking glass as I knocked my newest drink to the floor. Okay, I was more drunk than I'd thought. Was it possible I'd had more than three drinks? I thought hard as I worked to get my feet underneath me, but I wasn't doing so well at multi-tasking at the moment.
Steven stood and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a standing position. I managed to get my feet to stay and waited for him to let me go. He didn't. If anything, he held me more tightly so I had to crane my neck to look up at him. He smelled like some kind of aftershave, and while I was sure it was probably a good scent most of the time, at the moment, it was a bit overwhelming.
“I think I better take you home.” He chuckled and I felt the vibration against my palms.
I started to shake my head and then decided that probably wasn't a good idea; I was dizzy enough. With my luck, I'd completely lose my balance or throw up. Possibly both.
“Or maybe I should take you back to my place.” He cupped the side of my face and his touch was enough to jar me out of a completely drunken stupor.
I jerked back, barely catching myself. “I don't think that's a good idea.” My eyes caught something behind his half-empty glass of bourbon. More of those little stir sticks, and I was pretty sure his drinks hadn't come with them. Had he intentionally been getting me drunk?
Before I could confront him about my suspicions, he'd closed the short distance between us and was reaching for my wrist.
“I think you're in no condition to decide what's best for you.” He grinned again, but there was something darker about that smile than there had been earlier. “Let's go.”
I glanced toward the bartender, but he was at the other end of the bar, thoroughly engrossed in a conversation. I didn't know what to do. I wasn't exactly sure how much danger I was in. Maybe he wanted me to go with him because he was going to take me to Mindy's since they lived in the same building. Something in my gut said I was being naïve... well, stupid actually. But would it be an overreaction if I screamed? I didn't want to go with him, but I didn't want to be the girl who freaked out on a blind date.
My alcohol-soaked brain couldn't process the information quickly enough and Steven managed to pull me several steps before I began to struggle. Well, it was more like I yanked my arm but got absolutely nowhere.
“Let me go.” I tried to make my voice as firm as possible. “I'll take a cab home.”
“I think it's better you come with me.” Steven's fingers tightened around my wrist.
Before I could decide if now was a good time to scream, a tall, broad body inserted itself between Steven and me, forcing him to let me go.
“I believe the lady said she wanted to take a cab.” A deep voice rumbled.
I rubbed my wrist as I looked up at my white knight. I was tall, over five-ten in heels, but this man towered over me. He had to be at least six-five, six-six, and solid muscle from the looks of him. Blue-black curls that had that 'just fucked' tousled look that I'd always secretly loved.
“Fuck off,” Steven snarled. “This isn't any of your business.”
The stranger looked down at me and I found myself staring into a pair of intelligent dark gray eyes. “Miss, do you want your date here to take you home or would you prefer I called you a cab?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but never got the chance to get a word out because Steven grabbed the man's arm and attempted to turn him around. I saw those gray eyes darken and then he was moving himself, gracefully sidestepping as Steven attempted to throw a punch. Somehow, the stranger managed to keep me behind him, out of harm's way, as Steven cursed, stumbled, and then tried again.
This time, when the stranger moved, he gave Steven a little push that sent my date slamming into the bar with enough force to make him slump to the ground. He wasn't unconscious, but he didn't look like he was going to be getting up anytime soon.
My mysterious savior turned back to me and gave me a hard smile. “Some people don't understand the proper way to treat a lady.” He held out his hand. “Let me help you get home safely.”
Common sense said that it'd be just as crazy to go with this stranger as it would've been to go with Steven, but I could barely think clearly. I needed home and bed. I nodded and slid my hand into his. Warmth spread through my palm and fingers from where they touched him and I wondered if he felt the same way. Probably not. He was probably holding my hand to lead me through the bar and make sure I didn't pass out or something like that.
He flagged down a cab with ease, then surprised me by sliding into the back seat with me. He looked at me expectantly, and then asked, “Address?”
“Oh, right.” I flushed and rattled off my address.
The stranger leaned forward to speak to the cabbie, but I didn't listen. I was concentrating on not blacking out or throwing up, which took more concentration than one would think. When the stranger settled back in his seat, I found myself staring at him, focusing on using my eyes to trace his strong jawline and high cheekbones. He was a perfect balance between pretty and masculine, the kind of guy that pretty much every straight woman or gay man would find at least moderately attractive. Not that I could figure out why anyone would think this man was anything less than smoking hot.
He looked down at me then and I saw the corners of his mouth twitching. Apparently, he found the fact that I was staring at him to be funny. I probably should've been insulted by that, but I couldn't do anything except wonder what his lips would feel like against mine. Against my throat. My breasts. My pussy throbbed at the thought of that sinfully delicious mouth tasting it.
“We're here.” He opened the cab door and a gust of wind snapped me from my fantasy.
I scowled and climbed out of the cab, taking his hand again so I didn't fall. I looked up at my apartment and was struck with the sudden desire to ask my rescuer if he wanted to come up so I could properly thank him.
“Are you okay to get up there all right?” His expression was one of concern.
“I'll be fine.” My head was still blurry, but clear enough to know what the smart thing to do was. Certain lower regions of my body disagreed, but I didn't let them make the decisions. “Thank you for your help tonight.”
“It was my pleasure, Miss.” He bent over the hand he was still holding and pressed his lips against the back of it.
Well, shit. How was I supposed to not react to that?
Knowing I'd blame it on the alcohol tomorrow, I threw my arms around my mystery man's neck and pulled his head down so that I could kiss him. I saw a moment of surprise and felt his body tense for a moment before his arms slid around my waist and he leaned into the kiss. His mouth softened, then he took control, changing what would have been a sloppy, drunken kiss to something else.
His tongue parted my lips, twisting and curling around mine, drawing it into his mouth. When he sucked on it, I moaned and his hands flexed against my back, burning through the thin material of my shirt. His fingers brushed against the bare skin exposed at the base of my back and a part of me wished he'd take further liberties and explore. While his hands remained where they were, his tongue delved back into my mouth, thoroughly possessing every inch of me.
Then, he was stepping back and my head was spinning for a whole new reason. Something bright passed across his eyes, then disappeared behind the polite compassion I'd seen before.
“Have a good night, Miss.” He gave me a half-smile. “And pleasant dreams.”
He waited until I was safely inside the building before he got back into the cab, but the cab didn't pull away until after I looked out the window of my apartment. How sweet! He’d waited to make sure I'd gotten inside safely. I sighed and smiled. If I had any luck, I'd have very pleasant dreams indeed.
Chapter 5
If I dreamt of my hot savior, I didn't remember. I did, however, re
member with annoying clarity the events of the previous night. It seemed that I'd had enough alcohol to behave like an idiot and to have a massive, splitting headache, but not enough to make my memory too hazy. That sucked. If I had to suffer through the indignity of knowing I'd nearly fallen in the bar, been the cause of a fight and had then thrown myself at a total stranger, shouldn't I have at least gotten a reprieve on the hangover?
I groaned as I forced one eye open. My curtains were drawn so the only light in the bedroom was my alarm clock, which was currently telling me that I'd slept at least three hours past my normal weekend wake up time of nine o'clock. It was times like this that I was glad I lived alone. There would be no one to shame me into attempting to function at the moment.
I crawled out of bed and headed the few steps across the hall to my bathroom, pausing every second step or so to wait until everything stopped spinning before moving on. I downed a couple painkillers, drank a few wary sips of water and then slowly made my way back to bed. As I crawled under the covers, I noticed I'd managed to shower and put on pajamas last night, which was more than I'd expected. Granted, the pajamas were on backwards, but at least I was clothed.
I debated the merits of fixing my pajamas but fell back asleep before I could make a decision. When I woke up again, the clock said it was a little past two. I knew I should probably eat something, but the idea of food didn't seem like a good thing at the moment. Based on my very few previous experiences with being hung over, I knew I'd probably feel up to something later tonight, but even the thought of eating right now was enough to make me gag. I'd made it through this whole thing without throwing up and I fully intended to keep it that way.
I closed my eyes and tried to go back to sleep. Mindy would want a report of how things had gone, but I really didn't want to get into that right now. All I wanted was to sleep the rest of the weekend away and then bury myself in work come Monday.
