Night Time Rendez-Vous: 3 sizzling novellas that will keep you up all night

by Eddie Cleveland

I wave off her friend. “Don’t worry about it.” I smile, “I’m glad to see everyone having a good time.” I avert my gaze from the worried looking blonde and back to Lacey. “I’d love to dance with you,” I answer honestly.

  “Great.” She slowly slides her hand down my arm and wraps her fingers around mine, pulling me to the middle of the office floor where other employees are slowly swaying to the music.

  I’m painfully aware of the eyes on us, of the hushed whispers going around the room as Lacey wraps her arms around my neck and presses her body into me tight. Like a full body hug. One where it makes it easy to imagine just how good her body would feel pressed this tight to me without clothes on. The whispering spreads. Just like all office gossip, it works its way from ear to ear like wildfire spreading over a field of hay. I grasp her hands from behind my neck and gently guide one to my waist and hold the other out to the side as I dance her around the room, careful to keep her from tumbling over.

  “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” she murmurs, but I can’t say a word. I can’t tell her how, if the circumstances were different, I’d love to take her out. How I’ve thought about her smile, her beautiful eyes, and having her close to me like this since she started working for me. Instead, I ignore the comment and dance with her silently.

  “You look so good. I’ve always loved this suit,” she purrs. “You look good enough to shoot.” She bites her lip and I raise my eyebrow at the comment.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I mean with my camera.” She tosses her head back and laughs too loudly. “I’m a photographer. Well, I mean amateur. Just in my spare time.” Her eyes twinkle as she shares her secret passion and I find myself unable to look away, even despite the onlookers.

  “That sounds nice. I’d love to see them sometime.” I don’t know why I said it. Obviously there’s no scenario that would happen.

  “I’d love to show them to you. I’ve got a great shot I did of your first building,” she tells me breathily and I can smell the booze clinging to her tongue.

  “Oh really? That would be one I’d definitely love to see.” I smile back.

  “Great, I’ll show it to you right now if you want. It’s in my bedroom,” she teases me and digs her fingernails into my waist.

  “Oh, um.” I’m at a loss for words, so I twirl her backward, trying to distract her. But her heel slips sideways and she topples to the floor, lying flat out, sprawled like a starfish in the middle of the staffroom as people gasp around us. Lacey pulls her glasses up from where they fell on her chin and calmly places them back on her nose.

  “Lacey! Are you okay?” I bend down and help her back to her feet, but she keeps laughing so much she can barely breathe.

  “Fine, I’m fine,” she manages to sputter.

  “Oh my God.” Her friend races over to us as I steady Lacey on her feet. “I’m so sorry about this, Mr. Hanwell.” She’s white as a sheet as she slides her arm around Lacey’s waist and holds her tight. “I need to get you home.” She guides Lacey away.

  I take in the gawkers, the unhelpful people who are just watching with detached amusement instead of trying to help, and I suddenly don’t want to be surrounded by these people anymore.

  “Wait.” I rush across the floor and slide my arm around Lacey on the other side, helping her friend get her out of here safely. “I’ll help you.”

  Chapter 3 - Jaxon

  “It’s no problem, Mr. Hanwell, I can get her home.” The blonde tries to convince me, but I’m not having it.

  “I’m so sorry, my mind is completely blanked right now. What is your name again?” I try to politely ask her the name I’ve never known.

  “Emma,” she grunts as Lacey flops her head down on her shoulder and almost knocks her down.

  “Okay, well, I don’t think you should be driving tonight, Emma, so how about I give you and Lacey a lift to your houses?”

  “Oh, you don’t have to do that. I can just get an Uber for each of us,” she insists.

  “It’s no bother. I don’t like the idea of shoving her in the back of some stranger’s car when she’s in this state.”

  Lacey looks like she’s clinging onto the slice of consciousness between being very drunk and very passed out.

  Emma studies Lacey’s face seriously and nods. “You’re right, of course you are. You don’t need to drive me home, though. I’m good with an Uber. You just get her home safe, please.” Concern laces her tone.

  “I promise you I will,” I answer and Emma looks from my face to her friend’s and back to mine, then nods and lets go of Lacey.

  “Okay, you drive her home,” she agrees.

  “Promise me you’re not going to drive, okay?” I insist. “Grab an Uber.” I lock her down with my stare.

  “I promise.” She shuffles her feet and I lead Lacey to the elevator. “Oh, and, Mr. Hanwell?”

  “Yes?” I turn around, supporting Lacey on my arm, who cries out with glee as I twirl her around.

  “Lacey isn’t like this. I was mixing her doubles tonight. That’s why she’s so hammered. Please don’t think this is how she usually is.” She sweeps her hand toward the state Lacey is in and I nod.

  “I understand. Thanks for telling me.” I smile and resume our way to the elevator. As we step inside and head back to the parking garage she seems to get a second wind and purrs as she nuzzles into me.

  “You’re so warm. Oh my God, and you smell so good,” she murmurs. “I’ve always wondered what kind of cologne you wear.” She presses her body into mine and seems to melt into me.

  “It’s, um, called Man by Jimmy Choo.” I laugh uncomfortably.

  “Mmm, and what a man you are.” She breathes me in approvingly as the elevator doors slide back open and I take her to my car.

  It takes some doing, but I manage to get her clipped into the front seat, trying to ignore the sensual heat radiating from between her legs as I lock her seatbelt over her lap. Lacey leans back against the passenger seat comfortably and smiles up at me, her full lips tempting me to kiss them as she trails her fingers over the sleeve of my suit jacket seductively.

  I pull away abruptly. “Keep your hands inside.” I warn her before slamming the door shut and getting in on the driver’s side. I unlock the emergency brake and start the car. “Where do you live?” I hope she’s not too drunk to remember her address. That could make for a long and frustrating trip back up to the office to find out.

  “Me?” She looks surprised that I’m asking her. “Are you taking me home?” Lacey’s blue eyes grow wide and she bites her lip.

  I want to bite that lip.

  I want to suck it.

  Kiss it.

  Feel its heat as it trails over my body.

  Fuck.

  “I’m making sure you get home safe,” I answer, clearing my throat. I’m not sure she understands the difference.

  “Forty-four Mapleton Drive,” she answers, watching me closely. “It’s not far.”

  I punch the address into my GPS and see she’s right. It’s only about twenty minutes from here. Pulling out of the garage, I listen to the step-by-step directions of the robotic voice filling my car and try not to think about the flames of desire for Lacey I’ve been trying to extinguish for two years.

  “Turn right on Broad Road in one hundred feet,” the GPS directs me.

  “Is that Siri?” Lacey giggles. “Hey, hey, watch this. Siri! I see a little silhouette of a man.” She smiles broadly.

  “You have reached Broad Road. Turn right,” the GPS navigates.

  “That’s not how it’s supposed to go.” Lacey frowns and shakes her head.

  “It’s not Siri,” I try to explain.

  “Hey, you know what I’ve noticed? You know the thing about you?”

  I glance over at Lacey and sigh, not sure how to read her face. I’ve dealt with drunk employees before. Never ones I’ve been attracted to, but still. And when a drunk wants to tell you the ‘thing about you’ it’s never good.

&nb
sp; You know the thing about you? Your ties are too long and you need a new haircut.

  You know the thing about you? You make a lot of jokes that no one finds funny.

  You know the thing about you? One of your eyes if bigger than the other.

  Insightful? Maybe. Helpful? No.

  I brace myself, wondering what sort of drunken epiphany Lacey is about to lay on me as I make my way through the rolling hills of San Francisco toward her home.

  “You seem like the kind of guy who…I bet, I bet you’re a great cook. You know? Like the kind of guy who can cook.” She emphasizes the words like it’s supposed to mean something to me. “And like who cooks a nice meal for his mom or something like that. I dunno, that’s what I think.” She shrugs. I can’t help but smile.

  “I’ve been told worse.” I chuckle.

  “No, that’s a great thing. Trust me, that’s sexy.” She giggles. “Sorry, I know that’s not professional. I’ll be, I’ll, um, I’ll be professional now.” She straightens up in her seat and pretends to be serious. “Trust me,” she says again, but this time in a mock-professional tone, “That’s sexy.”

  I can’t help but laugh. I’ve never seen this side of Lacey before, but it’s nice to see her loosen up. Besides, it doesn’t hurt that she’s saying nice things about me. I had no idea she felt the same way about me that I do about her. It’s incredible how much you can learn about someone when they’ve had a few. Or, in her case, a few too many.

  The GPS directs me to Lacey’s house and I pull in the driveway. “We’re here.” I can see she’s struggling to keep her red-rimmed eyes open.

  “Where?” Her brows furrow in confusion.

  “At your house,” I answer and park the car. I rush over to her side and help her to her feet, walking her to the door.

  “I’ve got my keys here, but I don’t think I can unlock the door.” She leans into me and holds out her keyring.

  It takes a few tries of pushing the wrong key into the lock, but I find the one that makes the deadbolt click open and lead her inside.

  Lacey takes some stumbling steps and almost falls down again. I grab her tight and close the door behind us with my foot before I sweep her off her feet and carry her into the house to her living room. At first she giggles, but then she snuggles into my chest and I wonder if she can hear the secrets of how much I care about her that I’ve locked in my heart for so long as it beats hard in my chest.

  I walk her over to the couch and gently place her down on the cushions, grabbing the throw she has decoratively tossed over the back and tucking her in.

  “Please,” she whispers, her eyes still closed. “Don’t leave. Stay with me. I need you beside me. I haven’t been with anyone in so long and I don’t want to be with anyone again unless it’s you.” She reaches out for me, but I hold her arms, pulling them away from me.

  She has no idea how, under just about any other circumstances, I would love to stay. But I can’t. I won’t. I’m not that guy. I brought her home to make sure she didn’t run into that guy out there somewhere. Now that I know she’s safe, I have to leave.

  “No,” I answer firmly, not because I don’t want her, but because it’s wrong. I go into her kitchen and rummage through a cupboard, grabbing a glass and filling it with water. I place it down on a coaster next to her on the coffee table. “When you wake up, drink that.” I nod to the glass, but I’m pretty sure she’s already passed out. I walk over to her side, lean down over her, and quickly kiss her forehead, then gently remove her glasses, carefully placing them on the table next to her water before marching out of her house and leaving her there, safe and sound, on the couch.

  As I drive away, I wish Lacey would’ve given me any kind of indication that she felt like this when she was sober. I wish I could spend the night with her. Not tonight, of course, but every other night of the week. The month. The year. Forever.

  Chapter 4 - Lacey

  I peer at myself in the mirror and don’t even want to meet my own eyes. After spending all day yesterday wishing for death, I’m well enough to face the world again.

  But I can’t.

  I don’t know how I’m going to go back to my office tomorrow and face my co-workers after that party on Friday. I don’t know how I will ever, in a million years, face Jaxon Hanwell again.

  I groan and try to push away the embarrassing thoughts as I pat my fingers over my rollers and tighten the belt on my bathrobe.

  I have no choice. I have to go back to my job. Even though I’ve thought about it, I can’t just run off to Mexico and start a new life. My savings account won’t get me through long enough. Plus, I don’t speak Spanish, so there’s that.

  Yesterday I spent my entire day lost inside a feverish dream. I stayed in bed getting tiny glimpses of memories that didn’t feel like my own. Like the one at the office where I fell on the floor trying to dance with Jaxon. My back straightens and I clear my throat as I push it away, but another memory pops up in its place. Did Jaxon carry me into my house?

  Oh my God! Did I tell him I wanted to sleep with him?

  Heat creeps up my back and spreads over my entire body like a prickling rash as I stop dead in my tracks and stare at the wall blankly, like I’m trying to watch a scene from a movie on replay. I think I did. This isn’t good. Not good at all. I should really see if I can rework that Mexico budget. Maybe if I move some money around and start watching Spanish television shows I can make this new life across the border a reality after all.

  Fuck.

  I plug in my kettle and reach into my pantry for my box of tea as I talk myself down from the ledge. “It’s not like I’m the first person to get a little stupid at an office party. This will pass. Who knows, maybe people didn’t notice,” I lie to myself.

  I’m already working on looking my very best tomorrow. I mean, going on a date with a prince kinda good. I don’t want tongues wagging about how I look like something the cat dragged in. I need to walk in that office with my hair bouncy, my tits perky, my makeup on point, and my nicest dress. The more put together and professional I am, the easier it will be to put this whole fiasco behind me.

  Professional.

  Ugh. I wince as I remember “professionally” telling Jaxon he was sexy.

  Double fuck.

  My kettle whistles and brings me back to the present. I rip the plug free from the wall and mix a cup of tea, walking into the living room with it. As I set it down on the table I remember how I woke up at three in the morning yesterday, confused but safe with a tall glass of water thoughtfully left on the coffee table for me.

  Jaxon left it there.

  He’s such a sweet man. I always figured he was, but after how well he took care of me, that proved it. Too bad I’ve destroyed even the slightest possibility of learning any more about him. There’s no way I’m going to be able to face him again, let alone have a chance to get to know him better.

  I pick up my cell phone from the edge of my couch and start scrolling through my texts, missed calls, and emails. My entire body freezes as I see a bunch of unanswered messages from him.

  Jaxon: Hey, just checking in. R U OK? Jaxon: Hope you’re feeling better today

  Jaxon: Let me know that you’re still alive, lol :D

  I drag the palm of my hand over my face, blurring my vision. So, the little hope I was clinging onto that I had dreamed some of the flashes from Friday is dead. Along with my dignity. My hand trembles as I try to figure out what I should do. Ignore the messages? Call him? Text him back and say thank you?

  Bam-bam-bam!

  I jump in my own skin at the unexpected thumping on my door and pop up to my feet. Spinning in circles, I pull my robe tight around me and wonder if I should just hide out in my house and ignore the knocking.

  Ding-dong.

  The doorbell adds a layer of stress and I peek around the corner to see who it is at the door. As soon as I make out Jaxon’s shadowy figure at my front door, he waves at me and I jump back from the corner, trying to hide out o
f sight.

  “Lacey, I’ve got something for you. I know you’re there,” I hear his muffled voice through the door.

  “Just leave it on the step!” I yell back, determined not to add another layer to my humiliation by answering the door with a robe on and curlers in my hair.

  “I’ve already seen you. It’s fine. Just answer the door,” he calls back and my shoulders slump forward in defeat. Am I really going to be so rude to someone who’s been nothing but kind and concerned for me?

  No. No, I’m not.

  Slowly I walk toward the door and open it a crack, hoping I can somehow obstruct his view. “Hey.” My voice is weak and my heartbeat is thudding strong in my chest.

  “Hey yourself.” He smiles cheerfully. “I wanted to make sure you’re still alive.” He laughs.

  “Yeah, I’m good now.” I can’t bring myself to look at his face. I feel like an idiot.

  “You didn’t answer my texts.” He sounds confused. I manage to meet his blue eyes and get lost in them.

  “Sorry, I wasn’t feeling great yesterday,” I admit.

  “That’s why I brought you this.” He holds out a bag. “Can I come in?”

  I don’t want to let him in. I don’t want to face him. I don’t want him to see me like this. But I can’t exactly snatch the bag from him and lock the door.

  “Sure.” I open the door and try to shirk away from his eyes.

  “Thanks.” He walks in and I turn away from him. “I brought you some Gatorade, Tylenol, and ice cream. I guess it’s a bit of a hangover gift set.” He laughs, holding the bag out to me.

  “You didn’t have to do that.” I really wish he didn’t. I gingerly pluck the bag from his hands and walk toward the kitchen.

  “I wanted to. Hey, are you okay? You look like you’re going to cry.” His face is etched with concern as he follows me into the house.

  “I just, I didn’t want you to see me like you did on Friday,” I confess, “or like this.” I sweep my free hand down over my ratty robe.

  “Why? You were funny and sweet on Friday.” He steps into me. “And you’re gorgeous now. You think these could change that?” His fingers graze my curlers as a tingle runs down the length of my spine.