Write On Press Presents: The Ultimate Collection of Original Short Fiction, Volume II

by Write On Press

  ~*~

  Jesse was determined to pull herself together. She dove into the woman’s restroom and tried to relax. She was not going to give Nick the satisfaction of ruining her evening. She focused on the anger, almost grateful for his ridiculous insults. Desperately she tried to ignore her swirling emotions. If she couldn’t handle ignorant comments from a testosterone jerk, then she was in worse shape than she thought. He was nothing to her, and she needed to ignore him.

  She was lying to herself, and she knew it. Still, do it and you will become it, she reminded herself. Say it again, he is nothing to you, he is nothing to you. Eventually, she would believe it—mind over matter.

  But sweet Jesus he looked good in a tuxedo. He was pure male, through and through. Something about being anywhere near him for any amount of time turned her into a blithering idiot. Well that was easily fixed. She would avoid him. How hard could that be?

  Taking a last look at herself in the mirror, she was satisfied that she no longer looked upset. Shrugging she took a deep breath. Nick Armstrong was welcome to his bimbos and low opinion of her. See if she cared a damn what he did or thought.

  She exited the restroom, head held high when she felt a hand clamp down on her shoulder. She jumped in alarm sensing who it was before she turned to meet his eyes.

  “We need to talk.” His eyes had a look in them she recognized, a look that sent shivers up her spine and made her pulse quicken.

  “I have nothing to say to you.” Her voice was coldly polite as she pulled away from him.

  “Then I’ll do the talking.” Inch by inch he advanced on her and she found herself backing up until she was trapped between a wall and his body. Placing his hand on the wall, palm down, next to her head, he effectively shut out the rest of the world.

  She was forced to look up to glare into his eyes. Her brain was flashing panic signals as she felt the heat from his body. She had a heightened awareness of the corded muscles of his arms and shoulders as he leaned into her.

  “Get away from me.” She hissed the order through gritted teeth.

  “One minute. Give me one minute to explain, and if you never want to talk to me again, I’ll understand.” His voice was quiet. And dead serious.

  She went still.

  Tipping her chin with his finger he looked her in the eye. “I thought you were still married. To Wayne Holbrook, aka the jerk.”

  She waited for more, but he just continued to stand there.

  “Well, as far as apologies go, that one really sucked.” She was furious, remembering his words. “Here’s a news flash, even if I was still married to Wayne, that doesn’t give you the right to call me names like...like...you did!”

  “Like princess?” His lips quirked up slightly and the amused expression on his face only served to infuriate her even more.

  So she punched him. Hard, in the gut.

  Her fist bounced off as if she had struck a brick wall and he didn’t move an inch. So she stamped her foot and promptly burst into tears.

  He jumped back, releasing her.

  “Oh no, no...do not cry, please don’t cry.” He held his hands up, giving her room and his face had a panicked look on it that only made her feel incredibly foolish.

  Why was she crying? Why was she standing against a wall with her hands over her face, crying? She struggled to regain control, but his scathing opinion of her he had delivered at the table had hit too close to home. Her entire life as a senator’s daughter, she had been exactly the person that Nick saw her as.

  Except for that brief moment in time when as a young girl she had recognized she wanted more and reached for it. But instead of grabbing the more, when she had returned from that damn cruise and looked for him and found he had left Brighton without a backward glance, she had moved on to Wayne, buried the bucket list and become, once again, her father’s daughter, the princess.

  She was crying because Nick was right.

  But he was also wrong. She was not the princess type anymore. She had left that behind when she left Wayne. Slowly, she lowered her hands and looked at him, sniffing quietly, almost smiling at the relief in his eyes as he watched her tears fade.

  “You knew Wayne.” She said it accusingly. It was the first thing that popped into her head and suddenly it seemed important.

  He nodded, his eyes studying her.

  “Why didn’t you mention that?”

  “It wasn’t important,” he said impatiently. He raked a hand through his hair in a savage gesture. “Jesse, give me a break here, I’m trying to apologize not rehash ancient history. I’ve been an ass to you. Whether I knew Wayne or not isn’t important.”

  Her eyes narrowed, as she recalled Claire’s troubled look earlier at the table at the mention of her ex-husbands name.

  “I think it is.”

  “It’s not,” he said shortly.

  “You hate me and it has something to do with Wayne.” She hated how small her voice sounded.

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, I don’t hate you,” he said in frustration.

  He swooped down on her before she had a chance to dodge him and she found herself backed into the wall again. He was standing so close now she felt her reason going up in flames.

  “No, not hate.” He murmured the words against her neck. “We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. The fact you were married to Wayne is irrelevant. He’s an insignificant bastard that left his mark on me, sure, but that’s history. The past isn’t important. What is important is this: you’re not married.”

  “Left a mark?” She said stupidly, trying to ignore the heat that washed through her body in a wave of longing. “And what does being married or not being married have to do with you being a total ass to me?”

  Apparently Nick was done with words. Before she could react he bent down and took possession of her mouth. Possession, pure and simple. His mouth was firm and the kiss was hard and deep. Suddenly she was that girl by the pool all those years ago. All the suppressed longing leapt to where their lips merged.

  She felt like she was on fire. His mouth tasted warmly of whiskey and male. His plunging tongue mimicked the rhythm of mating and she felt the familiar heat that this man seemed able to ignite in her with just a touch. With a moan she reached her arms around his back and dug her fingers into his shoulders. Her knees went weak and she leaned against him restlessly seeking more. His hands dove into her hair and he deepened the kiss.

  Hungrily she pressed her body against his, desperate to feel his hard length. She flung her head back to expose her neck to his scorching lips. Oh God, this can’t be happening. I’m lost...a little trickle of fear penetrated her brain.

  “Stop.” She struggled against him to no avail. It was like struggling with stone. “Nick!” She wildly slapped at him, until he grabbed both her hands and held them still. He leaned his forehead against hers and stopped. She could feel him struggling to gain control as his breathing leveled out.

  Finally he pushed himself away from her and she felt a stab of loss so deep she almost grabbed for him. But she knew that was insane. She was acting like a teenager caught in the throes of her first love affair. She wasn’t a teenager any longer. When she was a teenager, and he had kissed her like this, it had been meaningless to him. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment as she remembered how eagerly she responded to his kisses. Still responded to his kisses.

  Proudly she lifted her chin, and smoothed her hair, trying to regain her composure. She wasn’t that teenager, and this wasn’t a love affair, she reminded herself. She wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice with this man.

  “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?” She refused to meet his eyes.

  “Don’t pretend like we didn’t just happen.” His eyes were calm as he studied her movements.

  “There is no we. Things got a little crazy and we found a way to let off some steam.” She shrugged, mortified at how her knees weakened at the thought of them as a ‘we.’

  “Jesse, if
that’s the way you let off steam, count me in any time.” He said the words mockingly, his lips twitching.

  “You kissed me.” Her face burned with an embarrassment that grew as he looked down at her in amusement. “Okay, I kissed you as well, but lots of people kiss, it doesn’t have to mean anything. Kisses don’t always mean anything.” She repeated.

  She had regained her calm now that she was a good distance from him. She watched him warily, ready to bolt if he made a move toward her. He seemed to read her mind as he kept his distance with his hands in his pockets.

  “Yeah, it doesn’t have to mean anything, but this did, princ—Jesse. Unless you’re trying to tell me that I’m imagining this thing—this chemistry between us?” He twirled one finger in a spiraling motion indicating a tornado.

  Chemistry. Sex. His confident arrogance pierced the haze around her and infuriated her. She would decide if something meant something. Okay, now even her thoughts were sounding juvenile. Enough!

  She whirled to go. “There is no we,” she repeated firmly. There couldn’t be. In one stealth move he blocked her way, moving with that fluid grace surprising for a man as muscular as he was. He kept his hands in his pockets and leaned in to whisper to her to avoid being heard by two women making their way to the ladies room. Jesse rolled her eyes as the woman ogled him shamelessly.

  “Jesse, just let me explain. I’ve been a bastard. Go to dinner with me. I can explain all of it. “ His eyes were serious and intense.

  Still shaken by her response to him, she snapped back, “You’ve explained, Armstrong. You thought I was married to a jerk, thus became a jerk. Because, you know, us princess types are so easily influenced. All that fluff in our head can be molded into just about anything.”

  Seeing Brian coming down the hall motioning to Nick, she whirled around and left him standing there, careful not to look back, knowing somehow that Nick’s eyes were following her retreat.