Cole blinked. His shoulders relaxed. He drank. Nodded. Studied something over my shoulder.
Good Lord, the man was beautiful. Suits, or workout wear, he commanded attention, confidence shifting the air around him.
“Okay. Subject changed.” He tapped a slow rhythm along the seam of his cup, then shocked me by asking, “What’s the deal between you and Victoria?”
He may as well have poured Drano down my throat. “You’ll have to ask Victoria,” I said with a nasty bite.
“I did.”
I should’ve walked away then. Instead, I prodded. “What’d she say?”
“That she wasn’t nice to you.”
“Wasn’t nice? That’s her recollection?”
His gaze dropped to the dark table, then bounced back a little softer. “She told me about the grape juice incident.”
Grape juice, spit, snot. God only knows what else was in that cup she’d poured over my head on our freshman year picture day.
My face had to be purple at that point, or charred black, because I was a furnace ready to blow. “Did she now?”
“Sounds pretty awful.”
How dare he look sympathetic.
The weight of memories, the ghost of my tortured past, the vile, vile anger welled, bitter on my tongue, and I could no longer meet his eyes, afraid to reveal my scars.
I pushed to stand, my chair making a terrible screech. “It was nice to see you, Cole, but I need to get to work.”
Cole stood, too, as if on reflex, and cleared his throat. “I hit a sore spot.”
“Something like that.” I didn’t wait for a response or bother with niceties. I made for the door without a backward glance.
What a shame. I loved that coffee shop, and now I could never return.
Cole
“You taking her out again?” I shoved my gloves into the locker.
“Tonight.” Martin dropped his ass on the bench and rubbed a towel over his head.
“So things are going well?” I asked, yanking a T-shirt down my damp torso and avoiding eye contact, afraid of revealing my ire.
“Yeah. I mean, you’ve seen her.” He chuckled, blew a low whistle.
I wasn’t amused. “Looks aren’t everything.”
“But you saw her, right?” Elbows to knees he stared at the floor. “Seriously, though. She’s great. Smart. Funny. Low maintenance.”
“Where are you taking her?” I stepped into my jeans.
“That new place in Bellevue everyone’s raving about. Top of the Tower. Had to call in a favor to get reservations. Worth the sacrifice, though, for that view.”
The words, “Don’t go there,” flew out of my mouth before considering the sentiment behind them. Jesus. Fuck. Shit. Why was the locker room so damn hot?
“Why the fuck not?”
Why? Who the hell knew? But I was digging a hole I’d never escape. I needed to backpedal, and fast. “She doesn’t strike me as the gold digger, arm candy type.”
“Explain.” His phone buzzed.
“You take a woman to a place like Top of the Tower to impress your colleagues. See and be seen. Show her off.”
“And?” He looked at his screen and shoved the cell into his duffel bag.
“Come on, Martin. You really want to expose her to the bullshit so soon?”
“No.”
“Take her someplace quiet and quaint. Where you can sit close, get to know each other. No pressure.”
“Yeah. Yeah. That makes sense.” His leg bounced jackrabbit speed. “Fuck. You’d think I’ve never dated before.”
Shit. The guy was nervous. Maybe he really did like Natalie.
“Wouldn’t call what you do dating.”
“True.” The word came out more triumph than reality check, and that right there was what had me riled more than anything.
I leaned a shoulder against the locker, arms folded. “Don’t fuck around with Natalie, for Ellis’s sake. She’s Lacey’s best friend. You make Lacey unhappy, Ellis is unhappy, and then he’ll make you and I fucking miserable. And that dude deserves some happy, yeah?” I clapped Martin’s shoulder hard to make my point, but also to release some unbidden frustration.
Martin was one of my best friends. A brother. He was also an unapologetic player. Killed me to admit I didn’t want him anywhere near my girl. Shit. Not my girl. That girl.
My girl was currently at lunch with the wedding planner.
That girl, Natalie, was none of my business, so why was she rattling around in my head? Why the urge to protect her?
“Sure. Makes sense.” Martin scratched his chin. Dipped his head. Nodded. “I know the perfect place. She’ll love it.”
I didn’t want her to love it. I wanted her to hate everything about the date. Even Martin. Because that pretty boy was a charmer, and women fell head over heels for him on the daily.
If Natalie fell for my best friend, I would see her all the time. We’d be forced to hang out. I would have to pretend she had zero effect on my engaged ass.
Victoria was everything I’d always wanted in a partner. Faithful. Giving. Smart. Did I mention faithful?
Fidelity was top of the list. Thou shalt not commit adultery. That commandment had been drilled into my conscience for as long as I could remember. My father. His father. My uncles. God fearing men, all of them.
Yet there I stood, angry at my best friend for dating a woman I had no right to give two shits about. I should’ve been happy for him.
His cell buzzed again. Giving me his back, he rifled through his bag, mumbled, “Fuck.” Then over his shoulder, he said, “I gotta skip lunch today. Something came up at work.”
“Sure. Sure. We’ll catch up later.”
He turned, threw me his signature smile, confident and cocky, but also one of his tells. He was hiding something. I hoped to hell he wasn’t back to gambling.
“You sure this is a good idea?” Victoria asked, looking down at herself, then adjusting her black skirt.
“Why not?”
With a huff, she said, “I was really awful to her.”
I helped her out of her coat, then turned her to face me. “How awful?”
Victoria looked to my left, then my chest, then my mouth. “I don’t want to tell you.”
I caught her chin before she could turn away. “Vic. How bad was it?”
“Bad, baby. I’m not proud of who I was back then. I was jealous and lonely and bored. She was beautiful, inside and out, and she had friends. Everybody loved Natalie. And well, you know what I went through with my uncle. Messed me up. My therapist said I fixated on Natalie.”
That was the first I’d ever heard of a therapist. “Did you ever try to apologize?”
“No.” She stood toe to toe, looking up at me with a pout.
“You feel like that’s something you can do now?” I shrugged off my own coat, then handed both to the woman behind the counter.
“Maybe.”
I dropped a kiss to her pert nose. “Martin’s going to be around forever. If he’s with Natalie, that means we’ll be seeing Natalie. The two of you will have to work things out.”
Anger flashed in her blue eyes before she composed herself, so quick I almost missed the expression. Then she fell against me, gripping my arms. “I’ll try. But I don’t think she’ll ever be able to forgive me. I wouldn’t forgive me.”
“Let her see the amazing woman you are now. The woman I fell in love with.”
“I don’t deserve you,” she whispered.
“There they are.” Martin’s voice came over my shoulder.
Every muscle in my body tightened. I wrapped an arm around Victoria before turning to greet our friends.
And fuck me, there she was, four feet away but under my skin, scorching my veins, wearing a clingy dress the color of sangria, her hair twisted on top of her head, her eyes made all the more enticing painted in shades of gray. No glasses, and though I had no right, I was mesmerized by the smokey hue of her irises.
Martin rele
ased Natalie’s hand and pulled Victoria in for a cheek kiss, then gave me a hard clap on the shoulder before checking their coats.
Natalie offered a sweet smile and soft hello to me, then shot Victoria a nervous glance. “Hi, Victoria.” She didn’t wait for an answer before moving past and heading to the host station.
A tall man wearing a tailored suit stepped out of the shadows, his piercing gaze aimed at Natalie. He pulled her into an intimate embrace, his large dark hands resting against her pale skin. She leaned back to look into his face, her smile endearing, his dark eyes far too focused on Martin’s date.
I yanked at the knot on my tie. Why the hell had I let Martin talk me into this get together?
Victoria whispered, “Shit. Not him,” before pressing herself into my side.
They exchanged private words before Natalie turned, the man’s arm still wrapped protectively around her waist.
“Guys.” Natalie beamed. “This is my cousin Finn.”
Cousin? Interesting.
Martin released a heated breath and then moved forward to shake Finn’s hand.
Natalie made introductions. When it came Victoria’s turn, Finn’s chest puffed, eyes narrowed, his long arm cinched Natalie.
“Victoria Ford.” He forced a smile. “Thought you moved to the East Coast.”
The man had to be six-four. Wore it well. Dark skin. Dark eyes. Solid underneath his expensive duds. Shaved head that added to his intimidation factor.
“Hi, Finn.” Victoria stuck to my side. “Moved home a bit ago. This your place?”
Finn nodded.
Natalie patted Finn’s chest. “He reserved us a table close to the stage, but it’ll be a tight squeeze. You guys okay with that?”
Nobody said a word, tension stifling the air.
A nervous laugh escaped her full, pink lips. “Trust me, drinks here are the bomb, and we won’t find better entertainment. The tight quarters’ll be worth it.”
Martin moved again to Natalie’s side. “Sounds perfect.” Only when he grabbed her hand did Finn release Natalie.
We followed him through an already crowded lounge toward a small stage, its floor lit with dim red bulbs, a spotlight aimed at a worn wooden stool. Red velvet curtains hung in the background, black and gold damask wallpaper covered the walls on either side of the room that reminded me of on old theatre turned speakeasy.
An unseen artist stroked a haunting melody on a piano tucked in a dark corner, some old tune I recognized but couldn’t place.
Our table was round, made for two, but we settled in, Victoria to my right, Natalie to my left, Martin directly across from me, the stage at my back. My knee bumped Natalie’s thigh but she didn’t seem to notice, and I made no move to adjust, mostly for lack of room but partly because there was something enchanting about the connection.
Wrong. True. But like a magnet, I was drawn to her.
I needed a drink.
Finn disappeared. Two minutes later, a woman floated our way. She had a face like Zoe Kravitz and a body like Adele, and damn she was breathtaking. Her red gown shimmered under the dim lights and hugged every beautiful curve.
“Doll. You came,” she said to Natalie, her voice smooth like a single malt whiskey.
“Finn told me you were back. I couldn’t wait to see you.” Natalie wrapped her arm around the woman’s waist and gestured around our table. “Everyone, this is Finn’s wife, Mona. She’s our entertainment tonight.”
“Pleasure to meet you all.” Mona offered her hand to Martin first, then Victoria, then me.
“Cole Adams.” I gripped her soft palm. “Pleasure.”
“Cole?” Mona laughed, a seductive grit to her tone, then shot Natalie a wink.
“What’s funny?” Martin asked.
“Natalie King. Cole Adams.” She waited for us to connect the dots.
We didn’t.
“You don’t understand.” Her hazel eyes lit up. “But you will.” With that, she turned and sauntered back toward the stage.
Natalie sucked her lips between her teeth, fighting a smile. And damn, she glowed like a kid on Christmas morning.
“How is it you’re related to them?” Martin asked, clearly confused by their different skin tones.
“My dad’s brother, Joe, met his wife, Angelique, in Barbados. Fell in love, brought her back to the US when his contract ended over there. Anyway, they had twins. Finn and Felix, who I—I mean, we ”—she gestured between Victoria and herself—“went to school with.”
My fiancée’s pale skin turned ghostly white.
Natalie continued. “Finn stayed in Seattle. Felix is in telecommunications and currently heads a project in Morocco. Finn met Mona five years ago. Fell in love. Bought this bar to showcase her talents.”
“Aw, shit. That’s Mona King.” Martin scrubbed a hand over his face, then leaned closer to Natalie and kissed her neck. “You didn’t tell me you knew her.”
It didn’t go unnoticed that Natalie had zero reaction to Martin’s lips on her skin.
“When you mentioned you liked her music, I thought it’d be more fun to surprise you.” A proud smile cracked her face.
When Martin stole a proper kiss, I turned away, a knot forming in my gut. I slid my fingers through Victoria’s under the table. She trembled, and I pulled her hand to my thigh.
“You okay?” I asked, leaning close so no one else could hear.
“Never better,” she forced through clenched teeth, meeting my eyes for a brief second before focusing again on my best friend and his new girlfriend, the woman I was getting damn tired of trying not to think about.
“Another round?” our waitress asked, her red hair pulled back, not a strand out of place, her makeup flawless, her dress straight out of an episode of Boardwalk Empire.
I gestured yes. I’d need at least six to survive the evening unscathed.
Conversation was polite. Martin did most of the talking. We avoided the subject of Victoria and Natalie’s past, and I raved about Victoria’s new ventures, hoping to show Natalie that my fiancée was no longer the same woman from high school.
At one point, Natalie looked at her phone, her face going ashen before she dropped the device into her handbag. I shot Martin a glance. He hadn’t seemed to notice and rambled on about his last adventure in Vegas.
Natalie was fully engaged while Victoria seemed distant. She didn’t lose her cool often, but when she did, she could go days without talking. That undercurrent of rage vibrated the air between us. I could do nothing to soothe her while we were in public, but I’d do everything in my power to ease her tension when we got home.
The lights dimmed, thank fuck. The piano went silent.
Natalie bounced in her seat, then clapped her hands. “She’s about to start.” She stood and turned her chair around to face the stage. Following her lead, I turned, too. Natalie’s knee touched mine again, but she shifted and crossed her legs, breaking our sinful connection.
Double dates were bullshit.
Martin and Victoria were now at my back, but I looked over my shoulder to make sure Vic was okay. She smiled her killer smile and let me know not to worry and enjoy the show.
The whole crowd silenced as if holding a collective breath. Natalie brought her steepled hands to her lips.
A single blue spotlight hit the stage, and there she stood, Mona King, graceful and glorious at the mic.
Without moving her head, her eyes darted left, then right, a smirk. A deep breath. Then she belted the first line of, “I Put A Spell On You.”
In the background, the piano came into play, enhancing the emotion, but not a single soul in that bar could tear their gaze from the queen on the stage, commanding and regal. Her voice weaved through skin and bone, then pierced the heart and caressed the soul.
Nina Simone, Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday. Some I recognized. Most I didn’t.
But under Mona King’s spell, I fell in love. With life, with music, with crowded bars. I heard a sniff and tore my gaze from the
stage. Tears rolled down Natalie’s cheeks, but she smiled, silently singing along, every bit in love with the performance as I was.
A hand came over my shoulder, then soft breaths in my ear. “I’m heading to the ladies’ room. Be right back.” Victoria kissed my cheek.
“I’ll go with you.” I pushed to stand but she held me down.
“It’s okay. Stay. Enjoy the music. I’ll be two secs.” She kissed me again.
When Mona started her rendition of “Someone To Watch Over Me,” fingers dug into my thigh.
“My favorite song,” Natalie said to the stage.
She looked down and jerked the offending hand away. “Oh, God. I’m sorry.” She flashed an impish grin.
I mourned the loss of her fingers, the warmth, the physical connection. I blamed that bullshit on the music.
Because I was not a cheater.
The song ended, leaving my emotions drained, but my soul sated.
Then Mona spoke into the mic, her voice sultry still. “Before I take a break, I have a special song for two lovebirds out there. Nat and Cole, this one’s for you.” She shot a wink our direction, though I was sure she couldn’t see us.
“Oh, no.” Natalie groaned. “She thinks were together.” She laughed and shrugged, then settled back into her seat.
Mona crooned a familiar tune. “L-O-V-E” by Nat King Cole. I smiled, a flood of memories washing over me. My grandfather singing to my grandmother, swinging her around the room. Then I laughed, finally understanding. Natalie King. Cole Adams.
Mona sang. Natalie sang along. I was no longer mesmerized by the artist on stage but the woman sitting next to me. I fell in love. Again. With the song. With life. With crowded bars. With a woman I hardly knew.
My insides shifted. My gut twisted.
I reached behind and grabbed Victoria’s drink, downing her half-empty glass in one shot.
Where the hell was my fiancée? And where was Martin? I stole his whiskey and downed that, too.
Natalie was clueless to my agitation. Good.
I stared long and hard at my best friend’s girlfriend. Tried my damnedest to rile all the hatred and disgust I could muster.
Only, I couldn’t find one thing I didn’t like about the temptress, aside from the fact she was bewitching.
L.O.V.E. Page 5
