by Jo Leigh
“I think I’ve had enough wine for the night. I wouldn’t say no to some caffeine, though. Iced tea would work.”
“Great. Um, just let me get out of this dress.”
She was already heading toward her dresser, and Cam’s spirits took a dive. He’d imagined undressing her, letting down her hair. Like something right out of a Bond movie. He watched as she selected something from the dresser before moving over to the closet. Looking away before she could turn, he let his gaze roam around her apartment, but his thoughts didn’t move on from the nervous vibes he’d felt in the cab.
He didn’t think it could be about the sex. Not after the night they’d had. It was probably something simple, like the letdown that often hit after a big event. Hell, her award was a coup that he’d understood only after her speech. Donna had explained the prestige of it—how many emerging wine writers there were out there. But then, he’d known Molly was special since their first date. Maybe she was thinking about the invitations she’d gotten tonight. That schedule of hers was already packed to the rafters.
When the bathroom door shut behind her, he removed his tux jacket, grateful to have it off. Next came his tie, which he stuffed in the jacket pocket, and a few buttons at the collar and cuffs, which he rolled up. He was still warm, and taking his shirt off would’ve felt even better, but he wasn’t about to jump the gun.
The bathroom faucet was running, so he explored a bit, stopping at her bed. God help him, he really wanted to be with Molly. To taste her, make her beg to come...
What the hell was wrong with him? While no one had ever accused him of being Mr. Sensitive, he wasn’t a jerk, either. She was calling the shots tonight, and being rock hard when she walked out of the bathroom might send the wrong message. His gaze landed on the cupboards above her headboard and he tried to refocus his thoughts. Built-ins in this place? Maybe the building had been something else before it was turned into closet-sized studio apartments.
The water in the bathroom turned off, raising the pulse he’d just managed to slow down. As he stared at the bathroom door, willing it to open already, another thought occurred to him.
She’d never said anything about her family. If he was getting an accolade as significant as Molly’s, his entire family would have been there to support him. They always had been. Starting with his first school play when he was eight. He’d played a French fry. There had been science fairs, debates, math Olympics, everything up to and including his graduation from MIT. No one had been there for her tonight, except for her coworkers and him. Maybe the call she’d been expecting was from her folks.
He thought about asking Molly if he was right, but the fact that he had to consider it stopped him. It wasn’t any of his business. Tonight might have been one of the best nights he’d had in years, but that didn’t change the facts: neither one of them was looking for anything more than what was already on offer, and that meant keeping things light. He hadn’t even brought up his real work. Why get into all that when it was alcohol they had in common?
The bathroom door opened and he held his breath. She wasn’t naked, but that had been a lot to hope for. Instead, she wore a little floral dress. It had spaghetti straps, which he could identify by name because he had four sisters. She’d taken down her hair, which was also disappointing, but not a deal breaker. Not when the look of her, barefoot and leggy, with wide eyes and plush lips, made his cock twitch.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey. Sorry I took so long. Taking off the makeup wasn’t as easy as you’d think.”
“I can’t imagine,” he said. “But before you go back to Macy’s, you should know you look just as beautiful right now.” Her newly bare skin made it easier to see her blush.
“Thanks. You look hot.”
“Thanks.”
“No,” she said, grabbing her gown, already in a plastic bag, and taking it over to her closet. “I mean you looked overheated.”
“I am, but you could have let me hold on to my illusions, at least for a little while.”
“You think I don’t think you’re gorgeous?” She opened the closet, and it was as small as he’d expected. When she turned back to him, her hands were on her hips. “Because I believe I mentioned that already.”
He shrugged. “Dudes like hearing that stuff, too.”
“Really?”
Her teasing renewed his hopes of getting naked. “So you meant that I should remove this tuxedo for my health?”
Instead of returning the banter, she stalled, lips parted, her hands lowered and her gaze looking anywhere but at him. The warning bells went off, and Cam tried to figure out what he’d done to ruin the moment.
Her smile returned, but it wasn’t the same as a minute ago. Nope, something had definitely gone south. “How about I fix us those cold drinks first, and then maybe we could talk a minute?”
“Sure,” he said, not liking where this was headed. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Just tell me how you like your tea.”
“No sugar. No lemon.”
She walked past him and busied herself with fixing a glass of powdered tea. He considered coming right out and asking if she wanted him to leave. Maybe this had all been some kind of ploy just to get him to take her to the banquet. Or maybe she’d just changed her mind and didn’t want to sleep with him after all.
The noise of her stirring the tea was loud and frenetic. He doubted she typically used so much force, or she wouldn’t have any glasses left in the cupboard.
“Molly?”
The noise stopped so abruptly, it was as if a door had slammed shut. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve made this a million times more awkward than it needs to be.”
“You could just tell me what’s on your mind. Whatever it is, I’m pretty sure I won’t freak out.”
“I might,” she said and rolled her eyes. “That wasn’t helpful. Look, maybe you could have a seat? The chair looks rickety but it’s strong.”
“Sure.” He took the far chair, the one closest to the exit.
She brought his glass over, then sat across from him.
“You don’t want a drink?”
She shook her head. “Not right now. Too nervous. I’m just gonna... Okay. Here’s the thing. I think you’re great. Really great. You’ve been amazing in every way, but you were unbelievable at the banquet. There aren’t enough words to tell you how much it meant to me to have you there. I was scared out of my wits, and you made me feel comfortable and at ease. Tonight was better than I could have ever imagined because of you.”
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“A very, very good thing. You know what?” She extended her hand over the table. “Could I have a quick sip?”
He handed her the glass. She took a big swig, then handed it back.
“I was telling Donna,” she continued, “that tonight I’ve crossed a threshold. I’m officially in the big leagues. No more passes because I’m young or haven’t been around a long time. Getting this far was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and now the pressure doubles. I can’t have anything distracting me.”
“Including me.”
She closed her eyes as she sighed, and it was such a shaky sound that he put his tea down without taking a drink. “Not exactly,” she said. “But you’re right at the line.”
It finally registered. What he’d said. About the two of them drinking the bottle of wine Donna scored for them. He’d made an assumption he had no business making. They hadn’t agreed there would be a next time. But it wasn’t as if he’d asked her for a date. He was being polite, making an offhanded comment. “The problem is, I like you so much. And I think you like me, too. The kissing has been...” She looked away, her cheeks pink and her eyes shadowed. “Kissing you has been the best. Ever. The thought of us having sex... Well, that’s where
things become problematic.”
“I think I understand what you’re saying here.” He looked up at the ceiling. “Nope. I don’t. Not clear at all. What are you saying?”
“That I’d love, more than anything, if we could take things slower. You know, just be friends for a while.”
Man, had he been off the mark. What happened to the whole one-night-stand concept? Surprisingly, despite his desire to keep things simple, he still wanted to see her again. He liked her. But... “Are you talking about dating?”
“No, not— Well, sort of...but not. I don’t know what to call it.”
“Can you just clarify one thing? Are we talking friends with benefits here?”
“No,” she said so abruptly he tried not to take offense. She inhaled as if she hadn’t breathed in a while. “I think we had a good time tonight, even without the sex thing, right?”
Cam sighed. Not what he wanted to hear. He drank the rest of the tea. It was terrible. “Go ahead. Finish your spiel. You like me but you see me more like a brother....”
Molly let out a startled laugh. “I don’t have a brother, but if I did—” her cheeks filled with color “—I wouldn’t kiss him the way I kissed you.”
His relief was almost worth the confusion. “A minute ago you were worried about me being a distraction. I would think that would mean you’d want to have sex then cut me loose or show me the door right now.”
She smiled a little and sighed. “I’m making a mess of this. Yes, I want to see you again, but it’s the sex that’s a problem. That’s the distraction I’m worried about.”
“Um, you don’t think not having it could be worse?”
“Not really.” She thought for a moment. “Maybe. But I’m not saying we won’t ever have sex. I’m sure that eventually we will. Just not yet.”
Cam stared at his glass. He probably should’ve asked for some wine. “In the meantime, we’d sort of be dating, but not, even though your schedule is already insane.”
She nodded, her gaze resting on his face. “Those invitations I received tonight, for instance. We could go to those events together.”
Ah, here it was. Her endgame. He didn’t know if he was more pissed, surprised or hurt. “You know you can always hire an escort. They’re even in the yellow pages.”
“No. It’s not like that, Cam. I think we both know we’ve got chemistry. Which is great, because being with you is fantastic. But there’s that line.”
“The distraction line. Right. I forgot. Clothes on, all’s good, and we can be pals. Clothes off? Straight to the danger zone. Is that it?”
She stared at him, and he could tell she hadn’t liked his descriptions. But he’d lost his sense of humor about this. Not that she owed him anything; she didn’t. He just wasn’t sure he could deal with a platonic friendship with her. He’d wanted her since the moment they’d met. And while he didn’t want to believe she’d played him, he really didn’t know her that well.
“No, you’re right. It was a dumb thing to ask for,” she said. “I mean, I picked your card because you wanted a one-night stand. I am so sorry.” She stood up, nearly toppling her chair, then practically ran back to the counter, where she grabbed another glass and started fixing another glass of iced tea. Her back wasn’t to him, but she wasn’t looking his way, either.
Maybe that was his cue to leave?
No. Even if she wanted him to, he wasn’t going to walk out yet. Not before he gave this whole mess more thought. Found some clarity. Because when she’d said they had chemistry, she wasn’t wrong. In fact, she was a little too right about a number of things. Especially about the two of them crossing the line. Maybe she was afraid something big could happen between them. The woman had every minute of her life planned out. She had no room for a relationship, and if she’d felt a spark... Yep, fear could make her back off.
If he’d been thinking with his brain instead of his dick, he’d have realized that he’d gone pretty far out of his way to accommodate a woman he’d been with for a couple of hours. They’d had one dinner together. Admittedly, it had been a remarkable dinner, and each phone conversation after that had added to his desire to see her again, but he was pretty damn sure it wasn’t that kind of chemistry. That was something different. What he had with Molly was...
He wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t the forever kind of chemistry. This was crazy chemistry. Complicated. Full of pitfalls and way too little getting naked. Then again, he wasn’t even going to be here in a few months, so maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible to go with her to her banquets and whatever.
“You want to leave, don’t you.”
He jerked in his seat and found her standing right next to him. Holding another glass of terrible tea. “No,” he said. Then he took the tea and drank a bunch. It wasn’t any better than the first glass. “I’m thinking.”
“Oh.”
“It’s a lot to process.”
She sat down again. “Yes. Please. Think as long as you’d like.”
“Thanks,” he said, thinking that he had better not look at her while he was trying to figure this out, because whatever else was true, he still wanted her like crazy. Which was the crux of the matter. Could he escort her to another event, knowing there would be no...? “What about kissing?” he asked.
“Oh,” she said again, sounding a little surprised. “I don’t know. I really like kissing you.”
He nodded. Thought about saying something, but for the life of him couldn’t figure out what. So he tried to imagine himself with her, if kissing was part of the deal.
Oh, hell, he’d had plenty of dates that hadn’t ended in the bedroom. None of which had been half as much fun as talking on the phone to Molly. That wasn’t to say he was willing to roll over and be a doormat. She wanted them to be platonic friends who might eventually have sex? Fine. Then it would be his job to help her see that sooner was better than later. While still letting her set the pace, of course. “You know what? There might be a way this could work.”
She sat up straighter. “Oh?”
“You know how I told you my sisters are a pain in my ass?”
That made her blink. “Yeah?”
“They keep wanting to set me up with women who want to get married. I don’t want to get married. At least not now.” He leaned over the table, his hands wrapped around the cold glass as condensation dripped down the sides. “So let’s posit that I do accompany you to your...things. What if you, in turn, come to some things with me?”
“What kinds of things do you mean?”
“The nature of the things isn’t the important part.”
“What is?”
“You have to act like you’re my girlfriend.”
She looked at him very seriously. For a long while. Finally, she said, “So they stop setting you up with women who want to get married.”
He smiled.
“And in return, you accompany me to some events.” She sat back, looked up at the cottage-cheese ceiling.
He almost laughed. Seemed they both used staring at the ceiling to think through problems.
“You’ll always be assured of great wine,” she said, “and usually great food.”
“That’s a plus,” he said. “And when you’re with me, you’ll get to indulge in your secret beer habit.”
She smiled as she met his gaze. “Can we leave the kissing as is for the time being?”
“Sure.”
“And we’ll just play it out. See how it goes?”
“Precisely.”
She held out a hand, and he took it.
“One more thing,” he said. “Since we’re just friends, there shouldn’t be a problem with me seeing other women. Right?”
He didn’t miss her flinch or the silent gasp formed by her lips. He did everything he could not to let his satisfac
tion show. He wasn’t trying to hurt her or be cruel. But he had to know he wasn’t being the biggest chump in five boroughs. And that she felt the same spark he did.
“I thought you wanted to avoid being set up.”
“True. On the other hand...”
“Right. The trading cards.” She blinked a few times and gave him a strained smile. “Of course.”
“It appears we have a deal,” he said. Then he got up, grabbed his tuxedo jacket from the back of her chair and went to the door.
“You’re leaving?”
“I am. Mostly because I’m getting hard again, and that’s counterproductive. Also, because we both need to think this through.”
“Of course,” she said. She stood up and crossed her arms over her chest. “I appreciate this.”
He opened the door, but before he left, he made sure she was looking straight into his eyes. “You do realize the chances of us not breaking down and just going at it are really small. I know you think it could be dangerous, but I don’t agree. I think it will definitely get dangerous.” He figured his smile would tell her that he wasn’t a man to back down when things got challenging.
Her lips parted, and there it was...barely a whisper. “Oh.”
He shut the door firmly behind him.
8
MOLLY TURNED OFF the intercom between herself and the engineer’s booth. Today wasn’t going well. And not just in a Wednesday kind of way.
As she’d feared, Cameron was already a distraction. Since he’d walked out of her apartment Friday night, she’d thought of him—of them—so many times that she’d been distracted at her two Saturday wine classes, done an amateurish job at the tasting in Chelsea and would probably have to completely scratch every idea she’d had for her next column.
What she needed to do right now was put Cameron in a box. It was a trick a therapist had taught her years ago, when she’d been having problems with bullies in middle school. The technique was in large part responsible for her getting through life. The idea was to gain control over whatever was bothering her, which, in this case, was Cameron. It was important to visualize the issue or object very clearly. Notice the details. Block out everything but that one particular image. Then very carefully shrink it. Him. The whole of him. Shrink them until she could fit them into the small imaginary box in the palm of her hand.
