by Jenn Windrow
“What are you doing here?” I asked, eyeing the chocolate treasure, which suppressed my normal Grayson growl greeting.
“I was rude to you yesterday and wanted to apologize.” He held out my favorite indulgence.
I wiped my dirty hands on my pants and grabbed his peace offering. “You brought chocolate. Apology accepted.” I pulled the door open all the way so he could fit through. “Want to come in?”
He walked into my private sanctuary. Len had only been to the Rail Yard once, the day I moved all my stuff out of the house and into the studio. Len never felt comfortable in this part of my world and he never felt like he fit in, so I kept it private, sometimes it was the only thing that kept me sane. But having Grayson here didn’t seem wrong or weird. Somehow it seemed like he belonged, a feeling I didn’t get with Len. I shook off the oddity.
I leaned my hip against a filing cabinet, unwrapped the chocolate treasure, and broke off a hunk. Grayson moved from one piece to another, spending a good amount of time studying each painting and sculpture, like he was actually interested. Like he wanted to see what part of my soul I left on the canvas, depicted in the oil paint and hurried brush strokes.
He moved back to the third in the collection, an abstract with more meaning behind every brush stroke than he could guess. “This is my favorite.”
“Mine too.” I stepped closer to the canvas and ran my finger over the raised stripes of paint. “Inspiration came after I was struck by Cupid.”
“Why isn’t it hanging on a wall at your house or in a gallery on display? Why hide it away in your studio?” His eyes searched mine, like he could pull the truth from my soul.
I shrugged away the feeling of discomfort. “Len doesn’t care for abstract art, and it’s too personal for me to sell to a gallery.”
He frowned and then turned back to the painting. “That’s a shame, because it really deserves to be appreciated.”
He pushed aside dirty rags and jars of dried paint, another reason I had to move to a studio, and leaned against a wooden cabinet, not once worried his pants would get stained, a constant fear of Len’s “You’re very talented. I never knew.”
That one small compliment widened the sliver of space in my heart he occupied, and moved him one step higher than a cockroach. “Thanks. Not many people think what I do as a true profession, but art is my passion.” I broke another piece of chocolate and held it out to him.
He accepted the treat and took a bite. Once he chewed and swallowed, he said, “Do you make money doing what you love?”
“Enough to survive.” I relaxed in the chair. “After my parents died, I inherited a large sum of money and my house. I worked at a gallery at the time, but wanted to quit to pursue my own art. Thanks to my inheritance I finally have the opportunity.”
“Don’t ever let anyone force you to quit.” He pushed away from the cabinet. “Anyways, I’ll let you get back to what you’re doing. I just wanted to stop by and tell you that I’m sorry for acting like an ass yesterday. There’s no excuse for treating you badly.”
I walked him to the door, but before he got into his car I called out, “Grayson, I’ll see you tonight.”
“Remember, short, sexy, and see through. Or least two of the three.” With a guarded smile, he waved from his car window before he turned the corner and drove away.
Grayson’s peace offering and unexpected apology added more confusion to my already conflicted feelings toward him.
* * * *
Forcing my neuropathways to concentrate on tonight’s job, I stepped into my walk-in closet and perused my options for the evening. Grayson asked for sexy. I had plenty of sexy in my closet, most of it from a time before I met Len. I found a sapphire-blue, off the shoulder shirtdress hidden in the back. One of my favorites. It wasn’t tight or see-through, but boy, it sure took care of short and sexy. I’d never worn it in front of Len because bending over would reveal more than he thought a lady should expose.
I held the soft, blue fabric in front of me, pulling my hair up in a messy bun, and gave myself a serious case of duck lips. “Am I really getting all fancied up for a night at a bar with Grayson, or the job?” My arms fell to my side.
My personal little devil popped up. Why not? It’s a chance to let loose, let go, be yourself…with Grayson.
The angel of reason countered. But you have a broken heart. Or have you forgotten Len already?
Forgotten Len? Never. But a night to be free. To be the person I used to be, sounded like a welcome relief. Because when you looked deep at my relationship with Len, I had changed to make him happy. To be different than the girl who allowed men to break her heart. I went from sexy and adventurous to plain and boring, but I did it to save myself. In many ways, Len had refined me, but I lost a little of the spark that had defined me along the way.
I missed that spark.
“Let’s have some fun.” I slipped the dress up over my shoulders and adjusted the hem.
The hoops I had rejected for my date with Len sat where I had tossed them. I picked them up, knowing they were perfect for a night out with Grayson. I swept my long, ginger hair in a semi-messy, side braid and painted on the war paint. A necklace with a large silver and sapphire pendant came next. Four-inch silver heels brought me to the five foot-seven range, and a small silver clutch held all my necessities.
But I had to remind myself. Tonight wasn’t a date, it was work. Only work. Whatever.
At ten on the dot, Grayson’s car pulled into the driveway. I locked the door and noticed Grayson got out and opened the passenger side door. His hair was in a short ponytail at the nape of his neck, secured with a black leather strip that matched his pants. He greeted me with a wicked smile that promised naughty things.
A smile that involuntarily tickled my insides.
He circled around me, a low whistle sounding his approval. “Short and sexy looks good on you.” The smell of his cologne, that distinct Grayson odor filled the air and made me once again forget that this wasn’t a date and that we wouldn’t end up having sex.
I didn’t want to admit to myself that his compliment made my heart beat a little faster, made me feel beautiful and wanted. It felt good to be admired for the person I was instead of criticized for who I wasn’t.
Screamer’s was a local club where the music thumped, the singles flirted, and people practically had sex on the dance floor. Len wouldn’t approve, but Len wasn’t here.
We pulled up in front of an old warehouse with the perfect amount of grunge to make it cool. A pair of neon lips sucking on the word “Screamers” hung over the door. Wonder what marketing genius thought of that? Scantily clad women in painted-on dresses and knock-em-dead heels strolled the sidewalk on their way to the entrance. A bouncer the size of a small mountain checked IDs and opened the door for the patrons.
Grayson left his car with a valet, put his hand on the small of my back, and guided me to the VIP entrance. The bouncer waved us through with a nod of his head
“You’ve obviously been here before.” I couldn’t keep the smug from popping into my tone.
“Work takes me to a lot of places.” He held the door and I walked past.
The art deco interior housed a large, crowded dance floor where the bravest of the brave, or the more desperate of the desperate, busted a move on the slick tile, hoping their jiggles would attract the perfect mate, or at least a rich one.
Men lurked on bar stools, in corners and by the entrance, and eyed every female who passed their way. You had your wanna-be Rico-Sauvés, the Nerds who just wanted to be noticed, and everyone’s favorite, the Boy Next Door.
Colorful arrows bobbed over the heads of many of the patrons. According to Cupid, everyone had a soul mate, some just connected easier than others. Grayson and I dealt with the more difficult jobs. Tonight we were looking for a pair of yellow arrows.
“There’s our mark.” Grayson slid his arm around my shoulders and pointed to one of the bars that lined the perimeter of the room.
“Go make small talk and I’ll find our boy.” Grayson gave me a slap on the backside to move me in her direction.
I glared at his retreating back as he disappeared onto the crowded dance floor, then walked to the bar and hopped onto the empty barstool next to Ms. Yellow Arrow. Placing my order, I waited until the bartender returned with my rum and Coke.
He placed my drink in front of me, and I spun the short red straw in a slow lazy circle, listening to the clink of the ice against the glass. “Don’t you hate these places?” I asked the side of her head.
She swiveled her stool to face me. “Yes, but I’m stuck until my friends leave.”
Figuring misery loved company I said, “Me too.” And that was officially the extent of my small talk. I continued to twirl the ice cubes with the cocktail stirrer. “What’s your name?”
She took a swig from her beer. “Tammy. Yours?”
“Noel.” I had planned on saying more, but an arm wrapped around my waist and something I hoped was a cell phone poked into my hip.
“Hey, beautiful. Want to dance?” Beer breath and what had to be a half a bottle of Drakkar Noir nearly knocked me off my stool.
Great. A Rico. They were almost impossible to get rid of once they set their sights on you. I removed his arm from my body. “No thanks. I’m talking with my friend.” Tammy of the yellow arrow held up her beer and saluted him.
“One dance won’t hurt anyone.” His hand started to roam to some very personal places.
I blocked his hands to the best of my ability, but the guy had limbs to spare. “Not interested.” I was getting ready to knee him in the hairy balls when I spied Grayson walking with the proverbial Boy Next Door, Tammy’s matching yellow arrow high above his head. He had brown hair, blue eyes, and a deep set of dimples indented his flawless, sun-kissed skin. His purposely-grungy jeans sat nicely on his hips, and his tight T-shirt showed off his six-pack. Tammy got a cutie.
Rico grabbed my hand, pulled me from my stool, and headed to the dance floor. When we passed Grayson, he stepped to the left and blocked our path. “She’s with me.” He placed his hand on Rico’s shoulder to stop him from claiming me as his prize.
“Does she have your name tattooed on her ass?” Rico worked at removing Grayson’s fingers from his shoulder. “If not then I’m getting my dance.”
“Not going to happen.” Grayson wedged himself between Rico and me. “Move along.”
Rico gave Grayson the stink eye, but finally slithered away to find some other poor girl to bother.
“Saved you from death by crappy cologne.” Grayson’s lips turned up in a boyish grin that melted another layer of ice around my heart.
“Me and my nose thank you.” I managed a small lop-sided smile.
As a trio, we headed to Tammy, who had gone back to staring at her half-empty bottle, obviously not concerned with my abrupt departure.
I cleared my throat. “Tammy, I made some friends.” She turned and her green gaze landed on Grayson instead of the cutie next to him. Nothing unusual. Grayson had a way of making even the most handsome man look like…well, a Norm.
“Grayson?” Tammy exclaimed, hopped off the stool, rushed forward, and threw her arms around him. Grayson looked at her, but his eyes didn’t spark with recognition. “It’s Tammy. We met last month.” The smile slipped from her lips. “You don’t remember me?”
Grayson recovered quickly. “Of course I do.”
“I tried the number you left on my nightstand, but it didn’t go through.” She pulled him into the seat that used to be mine. “I’m so happy we ran into each other tonight.” Her hand left his and her fingers walked down his chest and settled in his lap. “I’ll never forget that night.”
My chest and stomach burned, heated with a spark of un-wanted jealousy, but a good dose of what-did-you-expect put out that spark right out.
Tammy reminded me that Grayson played fast and loose with relationships. A reminder that sank my growing opinion of him into the crapper. A reminder of why I would never fall in love with Grayson Adler. No one wanted a master-at-one-night-stands for a soul mate.
Fucking Grayson and his wandering dong. He needed to be castrated.
Guess it was up to me to fix this mess. I stuck my hand out at the man who was getting completely ignored because of Mr. I-Can’t-Keep-It-In-My-Pants. “I’m Noel.”
“Ricky.” His word stretched with a touch of Southern slowness.
I tapped Tammy on the shoulder. “Tammy, this is Ricky.” She completely ignored me. I tapped harder and cleared my throat. “This is Ricky,” I repeated with a little more heat in my voice.
She turned her head, but her eyes didn’t leave Grayson’s face. “That’s nice.” She stroked Grayson’s arm with her index finger.
Good lord, she was smitten.
This time I tapped Grayson on the shoulder. “Hi, I’m Noel.” Let’s see if he played along.
Grayson turned in my direction, a spark of mischief in his blue eyes. “Beautiful name, Noel.” Spoken in his best I’m-a-naughty-boy tone. I swear I orgasmed.
“Want to dance?” It was the only way I could think of to get him out of Tammy’s clutches and facilitate alone time for the meant-to-be couple. Hopefully she would come back to her senses once she was away from Grayson’s sex pheromones.
Grayson slid off his stool and placed his hand on the center of my back, before letting it slip to my ass and squeezing. I was tempted to slap it away, but instead I let Tammy see the womanizing piece of crap in action.
He leaned in close. “Nice save.” Then he guided me to the dance floor.
Once we were gyrating appropriately, I stole a glance at the bar, but Ricky sat all alone, watching the basketball game on the TV above his head instead of chatting it up with his future bride. “She’s gone.”
“She’s around. She slipped her key into my pocket before we came out here.”
Of course she did. I started looking around the crowded room for her yellow arrow. Suddenly, Grayson stepped in front of me, his arms out to keep me behind his back. Right before water splashed his chest. He saved me from the soak zone.
Tammy stood in front of us, an empty glass in her hand, a death stare aimed at me marring her pretty features.
“Ack. Grayson, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you.” She pawed at his wet clothes. “I meant to hit her.” The “her” was spoken with a lip raise of disgust.
“What did I do to you?”
“He’s mine. I had him first.” If it was up to me she could have him forever, but he wasn’t her soul mate, Ricky was.
“Go talk to Ricky.” I stepped out from behind my hunky man shield.
“I don’t want Ricky.” She grabbed Grayson’s hand off my shoulder and wedged herself between us. “I’ll blow you in the bathroom.” Like that was going to work.
Grayson rubbed the faint stubble on his chin in deep contemplation. “That’s a pretty good offer, Noel. Can you top it?” Hell. No. The man was a total slut.
What could top a blowjob in the bathroom?
A-ha. I leaned into his ear and whispered the one thing I knew would stop him dead and get him back to doing his job. His lips lifted and he dropped Tammy’s hand. Got him.
“Sorry, dear. I’ve had a better offer.” He leaned down and whispered something in her ear. “Unless you’re willing?” I was going to kill him.
Her eyes traveled the length of my body. “Only nasty sluts do that.” That made me a nasty slut.
“Maybe you should go talk to Ricky.” I pointed at the poor man at the bar. “He seems more your speed.”
Tammy stood on her tippy toes and kissed Grayson on the lips, lingering a little longer than appropriate. “This isn’t over.” Then she disappeared in the
crowd.
Grayson pulled me into his arms and hugged me tight. His fingers pushed my braid off my shoulder, brushed his lips along my collarbone, up my neck, and then my jaw. His fingers made small circles on the bare skin of my shoulders. My girlie parts tingled in anticipation. Then my brain turned on, and knocked some sense into my over-sexed hormones.
I pushed out of his arms and kicked him in the shin. “We don’t have time for that. We’ve got a mess to clean up thanks to you.”
“I’m taking you up on your offer after we get our lovebirds together.” The look in his eyes was lazy and sexy and oh-so tempting.
Not that tempting. “That was not an offer. I just needed your head in the game.”
His hand slid to my waist and he pulled me close enough that I felt how much he wanted me through his leather pants. “You thought offering you covered in chocolate syrup, whipped cream, and tied to the bed was the way to do it. Because I can tell you that my head is anywhere but in the game right now.”
Horny bastard. “We have a job to do.” I pushed against his chest, putting a mental chastity belt between our bodies.
“What’s in it for me if I can get them together?”
Was he really negotiating? One look at his face and I knew he wouldn’t budge until I promised him something. “I’ll give you the blow job you’re missing out on the next time we’re at the hotel.”
“Not good enough.” His smile was tantalizing wicked. “How about something involving rope, handcuffs, and an un-breakable headboard?”
His verbal foreplay plucked my nerves in a good way. “Keep dreaming.”
The corner of his lips lifted in a gotcha smile. “If I get them together you have to go on a date with me.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but he put a finger over my lips.
“A real date. One date to prove that there is more than hot sex between us. Dinner, movie, late night walk on the beach, whatever you want. But no sex. Even if you beg.”
