#1 Crush

by T Gephart

  “You know, if the invitation is still open, I’d like to tag along.” I tried not to get distracted by Eric being mostly naked, his chest still a little damp. “No business talk, just to get out of here for a few hours.”

  “Well of course the invitation is still open. I’d love for you to come.” He sat down on the bed beside me, the mattress compressing under his weight. “What changed your mind?”

  “Nothing in particular, just thought it might be fun.” Like taking a convertible out for a test drive you never intended purchasing.

  “It will be, especially now.” He rewarded me with one of his famous panty-melting smiles. “And Jack’s great, he’s a good guy. Good friend too.”

  “Can’t wait to meet him.” My fists mock pom-pom waved in the air. “Look how excited I am.”

  “Just remember our rule, this is mine.” His hand wrapped possessively around my waist, planting a kiss on my lips. “I’m not sharing you with Jack.”

  “All yours.” I kissed him back because it hadn’t lasted long enough the first time. “Do you think there are going to be any photographers there tonight?”

  I threw it out casually, not trying to draw any attention to it at all. Just as a side note, an afterthought—you know, for curiosity.

  “Are you worried about it?” His brow lifted, seeing through me in less than a minute.

  “Pfft. No.” I scoffed. Okay maybe just a little. “I’m totally not worried.” Lies. “But I think it’s better if I just meet you there.”

  “I’ll give you the battle because I won the war.” He shrugged conceding a lot faster than I anticipated. “You’re coming to dinner, and whether you arrive with me or not, you’ll be coming home with me.”

  “So sure of yourself. We’ll see won’t we?”

  “We will.”

  I laughed.

  He didn’t.

  Oooh, it was going to be an interesting night.

  Dinner was at So—an overpriced, pretentious Japanese restaurant in the Flatiron district in Manhattan.

  Will had taken Judith there one anniversary and raved about it. And because Lila and I had been curious, we had decided to take a chance as well because who didn’t love good food. So earlier in the year, we’d made a reservation. It was a two-month wait, but Will had assured us it would be worth it. He neglected to tell us we were going to have to donate a kidney to cover the check.

  Which is why I had been slightly panicked when Eric had mentioned that So was the awesome venue his friend had picked for dinner. Well, I guess I hadn’t used my credit card for lipstick purchases in the last few days; it was due for a workout anyway.

  What to wear had been a whole other drama. It needed careful consideration. Too sexy—I’d be mistaken for a hooker being entertained by two men. Too conservative—it would look like I was going to a job interview. To casual—it was So for Christ’s sake, I wouldn’t be allowed in the door. Too fancy—it wasn’t a gala.

  In the end I settled for a sleek, black, fitted dress with an exposed back. Business in the front and party in the back—a good compromise. And because I didn’t want to waste the effort, I twisted my hair into a loose topknot so you could actually see my back party. And the lipstick was predictably red.

  I decided to take a cab rather than drive my own car, conscious I might be drinking. I was also conscious that my car was a ten-year-old Buick LaCrosse my father had been nagging me to take into the shop because it smelled like it was burning oil. So a cab it was.

  Deciding to be fashionably late—fine, I had spent too much time deliberating on what to wear—I arrived at eight-fifteen, fifteen minutes after the agreed upon time. So when I got to So, both Eric and a relatively handsome man, who looked too young and not slimy enough to be an agent, were sitting at the table drinking a couple Hitachinos.

  “Sorry I’m late.” I approached the table, the Maître d’ insisting he walk me over. Probably to check I belonged with them and wasn’t some random girl who was trying to crash their swanky dinner.

  “New York, so glad you could join us.” Eric stood up to greet me, his eyes giving me a very deliberate head to toe. His hand hit my bare back as he leaned in and whispered, “I love that dress.”

  And if his hot breath and sexy man scent—I still had no idea what it was, but I wanted to bathe in it—weren’t enough to soak my panties, Eric was all fancied up.

  While he wasn’t wearing that amazing Tom Ford suit, he was rocking a pair of dress pants that did amazing things for his ass with a button-down shirt minus the tie. Almost too tempting to strip him down one delicious layer at a time.

  “Thank you.” I gave him a polite smile reminding myself we were in a respectable public place and licking him would be frowned upon. “You look great too.”

  “Uh-hmm.” Jack cleared his throat, not so subtly reminding us we weren’t alone and eye fucking the hell out of each other. Public place. Frowned upon.

  “Jack, this is Tia.” Eric did the introductions, keeping his eyes on me. “Tia, Jack.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Jack.” I held out my hand and gave him a non-offensive-not-too-long-firm-but-not-bone-crushing handshake.

  “Pleasure is mine.” His hand wrapped around mine. “Eric has told me all about you.”

  “All lies.” I waved my hand dismissively and laughed. Ironically enough, probably true given how many I told. I sat down, the Maître d’ patiently waiting to push in my chair as Jack and Eric slowly retook theirs.

  “I find that hard to believe.” He gave me a smile I didn’t yet trust.

  Eric had yet to take his eyes off me, his tongue darting across his lips as I smiled back. He looked hungry and not for what was currently on the menu. I wasn’t even going to pretend that it didn’t thrill me the way he was looking at me.

  “So, how did you guys get a table here?” The place was clearly packed. “There’s usually a two month wait on reservations.”

  “I know the head chef.” Jack picked up his beer and took a swig. “We’re old friends.”

  “Ahhhhh. Well, lucky you.” Oh, he was one of those. Call in a favor and bypass the line. Meanwhile, the little person had to save for a year to be able to afford dinner and probably had their reservation cancelled due to a seating issue and this douche swanned right in. Not sure why it bothered me, but it did.

  “Your drink.” A waiter delivered a martini I didn’t order, placing the chilled glass in front of me.

  Well, this was a pickle wasn’t it? I wasn’t the kind of girl to turn down a martini, but this one only had one olive instead of three. And its origins were unknown.

  “Excuse me.” I waved to the waiter before he could disappear. “I don’t think this is mine.”

  “It’s yours, notice the absence of juice.” Eric’s eyes dropped to the glass and then back to me. “I ordered it.”

  “But it only has one olive.” My brow scrunched in confusion. Who the hell made a martini with one olive? I mean, why bother. “Everyone knows it’s either a lemon twist for vodka or three olives for gin. Unless it’s a Gibson and then it’s a cocktail onion.”

  The waiter looked at me nervously before shooting his eyes to Eric. “I can have the bar add more olives?”

  “No, no it’s fine.” I gave him a tight smile even though the one olive thing was making me twitchy. “All good.” I picked up the glass and took a sip in a show of good faith. Amateurs. For the amount these drinks cost they should surely get the garnishes right. And there was my next column piece. Boom.

  “Something new for my list.” Eric hid his smirk behind his beer. “Every day is like an adventure.”

  “So, Tia, Eric here tells me you’re an actress.” Jack gave me his full attention. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with your work.”

  And it had begun.

  The man could have at least allowed me to finish my drink, because it was definitely not a conversation to be undertaken sober.

  If I ever decided to pick a fictitious career again, I was going to be
something simple like a gas station attendant. Maybe a busker who did interpretative dance on the subway for loose change. My fake career was almost taking as much effort as my real one.

  “It’s probably because we don’t move in the same circles. New York is a big place and I’m not famous.” I smiled sweetly but had an unmistakable hunch that this guy was on to me. Game on, buddy.

  “We should talk, maybe in my office sometime this week.” His eyes moved between me and Eric. “I have a pretty wide circle in the city. Lots of contacts.”

  Fuck.

  He either knew or was flirting with me.

  Lord, please let him be flirting with me.

  “Tia isn’t interested, Jack.” Eric instinctively reached across the table, thumbing the top of my knuckles. “We agreed not to talk business tonight.”

  Firstly, was Eric Larsson holding my fucking hand in public? Holy Shit. Secondly, he wasn’t liking the attention I was getting either. And assuming he thought it was flirting—and I assumed that he did—was he jealous?

  It felt like my heart was going to stop beating in my chest and stage dive onto the table.

  “It’s okay, Eric.” There wasn’t a chance I was tearing my hand away even as I turned my attention to Jack. “I appreciate the offer, Jack, but I doubt we’d be a good fit.”

  “Of course. My mistake.” He shrugged, signaling to the waiter he needed another drink.

  “Are we ready for our first course?” The waiter placed another beer in front of Jack.

  “Yes, we’d like to start.” Eric nodded, his hand still on mine.

  The other thing about So—other than being a pain in the ass to get a table and costing a body part once you were there—was there wasn’t a menu.

  Diners were hosted to a selection of ten small courses specially selected and prepared by the head chef based on seasonal ingredients. All very exciting except that I hated relinquishing control. Give me a menu, let me choose what I want and then feed me. It could still be fine dining; I just didn’t want someone else making the decisions. I prayed the food gods would smile on us kindly.

  First course was some kind of delicious soup. Okay, maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad.

  “So, when are you heading back to California?” Jack asked casually, the small bowl of soup brought to his lips. “You start pre-production soon don’t you?”

  “Next week,” Eric answered.

  Oh? That was news. He would be leaving next week? I kept my reaction neutral as his eyes flicked to me.

  “Well, that’s exciting.” I took a sip from my small bowl, the pit of my stomach twisting. Maybe the soup wasn’t so good after all. Yeah, on second thought, I hated this soup.

  “This soup is really good, isn’t it?” Another sip. “Different to the one I had last time I was here.”

  “Solid team behind it. One of my guys got a minor role,” Jack continued, oblivious of how much I wanted to change the conversation.

  “Yes, it’s a great team,” Eric agreed, also oblivious. “The director has been chasing me for six months; this was the first time I was able to commit.”

  “Of course he chased you, you’re awesome,” I interjected, forcing the smile and trying to be positive.

  I wondered if old school hexes still worked. There was an old Italian lady near where my parents lived that swore she could strike even the strongest man down. All she needed was a photo. Mental note. Find out who the director was and download a photo.

  “And filming is four months, right? Matt—the guy I rep—is only signed on for some studio shots, but it looks like an intricate screenplay.”

  Oh shut up, Jack. No one cared you knew everything.

  “Yeah, four months isn’t too bad. I get to stay local this time.”

  Yeah, yeah . . . not that long . . . Blah, blah . . . staying local. I wasn’t buying how wonderful it all was.

  “Excuse me.” I stood up, not really sure why I was acting like a moron. “I’ll be back in just a minute.”

  “You okay?” Eric stood, giving me a look of concern.

  “Of course, just need the bathroom.” I deflected. “I’ll be right back.”

  I grabbed my clutch and headed to the bathroom I really didn’t need. Or maybe I did, but not for its intended purpose.

  Ugh.

  My fingers wrapped themselves tightly around the counter as I looked at myself in the mirror.

  Why did this feel so horrible? I knew he wasn’t sticking around and it’s not like we were dating. Hell, I didn’t even know what I was doing. Casual sex? He was a crush, a chance of a lifetime. I wasn’t even supposed to sleep with him, so in actuality I’d received even more than I’d hoped. There were thousands, maybe even millions, of women who would trade their right arm to be in my place. And here I was hiding in the bathroom acting like a baby. Of course he was going to leave. His life was on the other side of the country.

  Okay, I tried to look at the positives. I had a whole week before he went. Five to seven days depending on when he said goodbye. Five to seven days where I could spend time with him. How cool was that? So we—whatever we were—had an expiration date. Big deal. At least I knew and could make every one of those days count. Who knew, maybe we could remain friends? It could happen. The important thing was to keep cool and not freak out.

  Do not freak out.

  Do. Not. Freak. Out.

  “Are you okay?”

  Eric’s voice shook me from my internal debate, the reminder to not freak out nullified as I saw him in the doorway.

  “Fuck!” I let go of the counter and grabbed onto the nearby wall to steady myself. “You scared me.”

  “Sorry, you were looking at yourself pretty intently.” He stepped further inside, closing the door behind him. “You having a staring competition with yourself?” The edge of his mouth curled into a half smile.

  “Lipstick wasn’t even.” I pointed to the corner of my mouth. “I was trying to will it into submission.”

  “Interesting technique.” His brow lifted. “Did it work?”

  “No, not yet, but we were rudely interrupted.” I rolled my eyes pretending to be annoyed. “I was close too.”

  “Is there anything else you’re not telling me, Tia?” He moved closer, the sadistic mix of sexy man scent and sexy eyes taunting me.

  “No, of course not.” It was the biggest lie I’d told so far. “And in case you didn’t notice, this is a ladies room.” I pointed to a basket of female lotions beside the sink.

  “I had noticed.” His hands moved up my arms sending a jolt of electricity up my spine. “I just didn’t care.”

  Jesus. Christ.

  “You trying to cause a scandal in this tasteful establishment?” I rested my hands on his chest, the fabric of his shirt no match for the firm muscles underneath. “Eric, I’m shocked.” I pulled a funny face, my attempt to display shock failing miserably.

  “Kiss me.” It wasn’t a question as he brushed his lips against mine.

  “No, kiss me.” My tongue flicked out of my mouth and licked the edge of his lips.

  His eyes darkened as he pressed his lips against mine hard, prying them open as his hands took hold of my body. He was hard, the bulge in his pants pressing against me as he moved us backward until I was pressed up against the wall.

  We consumed each other, both of us desperate for the contact as the kiss deepened into something almost obscene.

  I need more, much more.

  As much as I could get for the next five to seven days.

  And I wouldn’t spend one second of that time with regret.

  “I want you,” he hissed against my mouth. “You’re driving me crazy.”

  “It was your idea to come out for dinner, Larsson.” I smiled back sweetly. “We could be in my apartment naked right now eating out of plastic containers drinking martinis with three olives.”

  “Clearly I made a massive error in judgment.” His teeth pulled against my bottom lip.

  “I wasn’t going to pu
t it out there and fracture your massive ego, but I’m glad you can see your flaws.” My tongue flicked out again.

  “We need to get through dinner.” He rested his head against the wall caging me in an Eric prison. Let it be known I was not seeking parole.

  “Yes, we do. Now go back to the table before everyone assumes we’re screwing in here.” I made a halfhearted—as in almost non-existent—attempt to shove him away.

  “Maybe we should.” He rubbed his hard length against me. “Validate their suspicions.”

  “Larsson sexes up no-name girl in swanky bathroom. Photos to follow.” My fingers jazz-handed in front of his face. “It has a nice ring to it I guess.”

  “You are not a no name girl.” He tilted my chin, forcing me to look at him.

  “You’re right. I’m fucking fabulous.” I gave him my best smile. “So go back to the table and you can sex me up as much as you want when we get home.” This time I gave him a real shove; movement was still minimal.

  He slowly pulled back, his body straightening as he stepped back toward the door.

  “That’s a deal I’m going to hold you to, New York.”

  JACK, IT SEEMED, WASN’T A sleazy asshole.

  But the jury was still out if he knew I was lying through my teeth.

  As it turned out, he was actually really nice and seemed to genuinely care about Eric and his career choices. They spoke at length about upcoming projects and who was directing what. I got the feeling that as much as this wasn’t supposed to be a business meeting, it was rare the two of them got to discuss their work with people who understood. And I totally did not freak out.

  Dinner was pleasant with the menu getting predictably more intricate as the night wore on, but I guess they had to justify their exorbitant price per head somehow.

  Jack even picked up the tab for dinner, rebutting Eric’s offer to pay and both of them shooting laser eyes at me when I’d pulled out my credit card. Honestly, I wasn’t complaining. Anyone who fucked up olives in a cocktail didn’t deserve my hard earned cash.