by Chris Adonn
“It just is,” she muttered stubbornly.
“Fine. I’ll wear body armour.”
“Why don’t you try some charm and good manners instead, big brother,” she offered sweetly. “No one can resist you when you unleash that gazillion megawatt smile and dish out a compliment or two.”
All he could do in response to that was give the imp a kiss on the cheek and his promise that he would try.
***
Chapter 3
On collecting her assessment forms and registering herself under the name B. Breaker, because damned if she’d use her real name, Julia took her allotted seat at table number seven. It was just a few feet from the centre of the long and well-stocked bar. A fortunate placement. She couldn’t get much closer than she was and she wanted to be near to the alcohol. After seeing Michael it was a given that she was sooo going to need it.
Giving Kirsten a half-hearted thumbs up as she passed en route to her own table, Julia placed her name sticker on the centre of her chest, right over her exposed cleavage. At least that way she might be able to convince herself that the men were reading her name rather than her bust size.
Signalling one of the waitresses over she ordered a Martini, taking a few soothing sips once it arrived. Seeing Michael had shaken her. She’d known that it would but she had severely underestimated just how unnerving it would be. He still sparked butterflies and electricity with just one look. Still had the ability to make her heart skip a few beats. It was crazy that after all these years he could still make her feel like a schoolgirl who was way out of her league. There was no fairness in life when it came to attraction. After how he’d treated her when she was just a girl in love, and mocked her now that she was a woman doing him a favour, she should feel nothing but disgust. Only that was the last thing she felt. What she really felt was raging attraction and no idea how to handle it.
All too soon the group of potential suitors walked in and she grudgingly accepted that the time to back out of the fiasco had come and gone. Not that she’d planned to. No way. Even though Michael was a jerk, even though she hated speed dating, she would absolutely not run home with her tail between her legs when there were game tickets to be had. With that in mind she turned her attention to the job at hand. Sixteen potentially sex-starved men.
They were quite smartly dressed and she noticed that they wore numbers rather than nametags. And oh great, there among them was one of her mid-level graphic designers. His name was Finch Gallagher and he was both highly talented and highly conceited. His arrogance was the only thing keeping him from a promotion to Head Designer.
As a rule she did not socialise with anyone in her employ but tonight she would have to make an exception. Perhaps she would take the opportunity to give him some pointers on how to make allies, rather than enemies, at the workplace.
Then another thought hit her. He would be dating Kirsten at some point during the proceedings, the reason behind her rule.
When Julia first started her firm she had been all about being friendly with her staff. She would host parties and dinners during which she would allow her professional and social circles to converge. It had been a winning combination at first, but then Kirsten started seeing her project manager; the man she had trusted to guide and care for her designers while she focussed her attention on the clients. When things went south between Kirst and Robert he up and left, taking InVision’s best designer with him. Julia had been shattered by the betrayal, but she had learned a valuable lesson: Keep your friends and employees separate, and never forget that the people under your employ are not your buddies.
For just a second she wanted to head over to Kirsten’s table and remind her to keep her claws out of Finch, but it wasn’t really necessary. Kirst knew that Finch worked at InVision. She had recommended him to Julia at her aunt’s request, and she knew there would be hell to pay if she got involved with him after all the effort Julia had put into moulding him into the rising star he now was.
Summarily dismissing both Finch and Kirsten from her mind, she sipped on her drink and tried do the same to Michael, but it was no use. Her eyes followed him as he spoke to his people and graciously laughed at some or other remark that one of his waitresses made.
Her skin tingled when he spotted her eyeing him and gave her a warm smile rather than a conceited smirk. The tingles got more intense when a minute later he took his position behind the bar and winked at her while tapping a microphone to get everyone’s attention.
Good Lord! He was hot! The years had only made him more perfect to behold than the boy she had once imagined herself marrying. Those drown-in-me blues were more piercing. His hair had deepened to the colour of slightly scorched toffee and now sported a few sun-bleached highlights, as deliciously displayed when a loose lock fell carelessly over his forehead. His lips had somehow managed to grow harder and yet remain full almost to the point of holding a permanent pout. His nose was a sharp straight edge and his strong jawline was even sharper. And oh glory, his body! He was damned tall. At least five inches taller than he had been at eighteen. To make matters worse that tall body sported some of her favourite features; wide in the shoulders, narrow in the hips, and even though he was wearing a suit it was clear that underneath it he was all solid muscle.
His presence seemed to captivate not just her, but everyone in the lounge. Even the staff stopped to gaze at him worshipfully when he spoke into the microphone.
“Good evening ladies and gents. Welcome to this, our first ever Rapid-Fire Date Night here at —” he looked directly at her as he said, “— Lush.” His mouth rolling over the word seductively. Enticingly.
Her thighs clenched in response and her nipples hardened as though he’d physically caressed them. It was all she could do not to lick her lips when a chorus of cheers and whistles followed his announcement.
Feeling totally shaken up by her visceral response she listened mutely to a few speculative questions regarding what the club’s name actually meant. Did it mean luxurious and sumptuous, or was it a play on the fact that some women could be made to give it up real easy after a few drinks?
Hell, she was willing to give it up to Michael right here, right now. No drink required.
The realisation made her bristle. What on Earth was she thinking? She was not that easy, and she was not here to be seduced into reviving fantasies that had died a painful death too long ago to matter. She was completely over the bastard who had left her so wounded that she’d cried herself to sleep for far too many nights. This was just her body reminding her that it hadn’t seen action in months. Nothing more, nothing less.
Taking a deep breath she steeled herself against the man and the crazy impulses he’d re-awoken in her.
When Michael now scanned the crowd, his smile pure temptation, she gritted her teeth. He was playing the room the way he’d once played her, but she had wised up since then and would not melt into a puddle so easily. Not this time. Na-ah!
She tried to watch with iron-willed detachment as he shrugged and said, “I’ll let you deicide. But gents, be aware that our bouncers will have no problem kicking you to the curb if you read the signals wrong and choose to act on the miscommunication. Ladies, that does not mean you can push the boundaries either. This night is designed to facilitate you in making new, and potentially lasting, romantic connections. It’s not a free pass to harass some hapless guy who’s too polite to tell you when you are getting too... lush.”
Once again the crowd let rip with cheers and whistles, but he silenced them with a raised hand and continued. “If you and the person you find yourself interested in are both on the same page, an email containing their contact details will be sent to you early next week and you can take it from there. If any of you totally bomb out you still come out winners, because you’ll get a voucher for a free drink of your choice to be redeemed next time you visit Lush.”
Yet another chorus of cheers followed that, and this time Julia briefly succumbed to mob mentality and cheered with
them. She had to hand it to him, he knew how to charm a crowd. He was incontestably smooth. Hell, if he ever entered the political arena he’d probably end up running the whole damned country.
As soon as everyone settled down he announced, “Guys, your numbers will let you know which table you will start at. Just in case you’re unsure of what I mean, gentleman number one is to start at table one, gent number two at table two, and so on. You will have five minutes to socialise with the lady before you and hopefully impress her with a little information about yourself while asking pertinent questions about her. Remember, this is not all about you. If you turn to the second page of the evaluation booklet that we provided you with, you’ll find a list of possible questions that you are encouraged to use in the event that you draw a blank. Don’t feel bad if you need to. These goddesses are gorgeous enough to strike even the smartest of you stupid.”
This won him another round of cheers from the women and whistles from the men.
He got back to his speech with a good-humoured laugh. “As soon as the bell sounds you are to end the conversation and move on to table number two. The guy starting at table sixteen will move to table one at the sound of the bell. We all clear?”
Julia groaned. Everyone else signalled their agreement with resounding applause, and the dating officially commenced.
She was just about to flag down a nearby waiter for another drink when Michael leaned over the counter and, staring at her chest, whispered, “Oh, Ms Breaker, try not to live up to your moniker. Those All-Star tickets are yours only if you behave yourself. Do we understand each other?”
She gave him a saccharine smile. “Oh don’t worry, Mr Smooth. I left my sledgehammer at home tonight.”
He chuckled under his breath and started wiping down the counter as Number Seven, her first date of the night, ambled towards her with a cocky swagger that was quite funny when coupled with his too tight European-cut dress pants. One thing that did count in his favour was that he was over six feet tall. Quite an important asset for a man to possess considering that she was five-feet-ten, barefoot.
“Hi beautiful,” he drawled, coming to a stop right in front of her so that his bulging package was displayed at eye level. Holding out his hand he looked at her cleavage rather than her face and said, “My name’s Bruce Evens.”
She smiled blandly, indicating for him to sit rather than shaking his hand. “I’m Bree, like the cheese.”
Michael stopped wiping the counter and now leaned against it. Clearly eavesdropping.
“Seriously?” Bruce asked enthusiastically, finally making eye contact with her as he slowly lowered himself into his seat opposite her. No doubt his family jewels were getting strangled in those silly pants.
“Yep, seriously.”
“I’m crazy about cheese.” Then he spent the next three minutes telling her all about his love of dairy and a trip he’d taken to Europe for the sole purpose of sampling various cheeses in their counties of origin.
“I’m lactose intolerant.” She delivered the lie without a whisper of remorse the second he gave her an opening to speak. “Every now and then I give into temptation and have some ice-cream, but believe me, the stomach cramps and explosive shits are hardly worth the trouble.”
Needless to say the rest of their five-minute date was awkward at best.
As soon as Bruce cleared off Michael leaned over the counter and hissed, “Those tickets are slipping out of your grasp, Bree. I suggest you make an effort.”
She muttered a string of curses under her breath but did in fact make an effort through the next six dates.
By the time the last candidate before the forty-minute intermission showed up she was way over speed dating. She was also over Mike and his constant scrutiny.
Number Sixteen immediately took his place and held out his hand. He looked good with his dark hair and golden skin. She even liked the fact that he hadn’t waited for an invitation to sit. It spoke of confidence.
“Hi, I’m Steve Garcia. Very pleased to meet you —” he glanced at her cleavage and gulped. His brown eyes unquestionably focussed on her nametag and nothing else.“— Ms Breaker?”
“Please, call me Bella.” She was happy to note that despite his apprehension he had a firm handshake but still, it didn’t ease her irritation. The damned intermission couldn’t come soon enough.
A smile transformed his face and the charming dimples in his cheeks caught her attention. She had to admit that under different circumstances she might well have been interested, but right now all she felt was a rising sense of frustration. It wasn’t his fault. She was just sick and tired of smiling and pretending that she wanted to be here when all she really wanted was to get the hell away from the madness that was speed dating.
Steve gave her hand one last squeeze before letting go and once again glancing at her chest. This time it was obvious that he was looking past her nametag.
Typical.
“Wow, that’s a beautiful name. Is it just Bella, or Isabella?”
She caught Michael silently chuckling from the corner or her eye but kept her expression deadpan. So the fucker thought this was funny, did he? She’d show him funny. “Actually it’s Belladonna. My mother was a botanist. She specialised in lethally toxic plants. To tell you the truth she was fascinated by all toxins.”
Steve had the good grace to pull his eyes back to her face. “And your father?”
“He was a professional wrestler back in... New Zealand, hence my unfortunate surname. They called him the Ball Breaker. If you know anything about hard-core wrestling I’m sure you’ll be able to figure out how he earned the name. Sadly he was sent to prison after he accidentally killed a lifeguard for trying to give my mum mouth-to-mouth. You see she drowned after getting stung by a box jellyfish off the coast of Australia. Really quite tragic. Not to mention ironic.”
Michael choked on whatever it was that he was drinking and darling-dear-Steve bumbled over expressing his condolences.
Deciding to milk the situation for all it was worth, Julia worked up a few crocodile tears and blew her nose loudly into a paper serviette. “Thank you, you have no idea how much that means to me. What with my dad finally coming up for his parole hearing and all. Please excuse me, Stan– I mean, Steve. I need to go to the restroom. My colostomy bag is full.” Without waiting for a response she grabbed her purse and headed for the elevator that would take her down to the foyer, and hopefully a waiting taxi.
Unfortunately Mike grabbed her arm before she could hit the Down button and spun her around. “What the fuck was that about? I thought you have a degree in marketing, not a PhD in bullshitting!” He looked absolutely livid.
“Same thing. Now just let me leave. I detest speed dating and I want to go home. I can’t believe I let Kirsten talk me into this. It’s a damned meat market! You can keep your tickets. I’ll buy one outside the stadium or something.”
His expression turned from furious, to stunned, to incredulous, and finally something resembling admiration. “How about we go together?”
“What?” Now it was her turn to run the gauntlet of expressions.
He hit the Up button and ushered her into the waiting elevator as soon as the doors opened. “You heard me. Why don’t we go together? The only reason I was willing to give up the tickets was because I had no one I wanted to go with. Since you pretty much made it through half the night, I figure you deserve half the reward. Plus I know you’re a genuine baseball fan and I won’t have to spend the entire match explaining the plays and rules to you.”
The elevator doors opened on the roof of the building and he led her out onto a beautiful deck adorned with potted plants and various types of loungers and furniture that was designed purely for relaxation. If there had been a swimming pool too she might have thought that she had travelled back in time.
“So what do you say?” he prompted, ushering her to a chaise lounge that was big enough to seat both of them comfortably. Thankfully he made sure to place at least two
feet of distance between their bodies. Still, it was far too reminiscent of that long ago night.
“I say the forty minute interval is about to start down at Dating Central and you need to get back there to announce it.”
“My club manager is handling that. She’s even going to find a replacement for you so that the dating can continue without a hitch. Thanks for that, by the way. I’ll be sure to never depend on you again.”
She almost choked on her tongue. “Really? You’re trying to guilt me?”
He grinned ruefully. “Sorry. Habit. It works on most women. I forgot who I was talking to for a second.”
“Yeah, you must have.”
“So why’d you run out of there anyway? Was it really that bad?”
“No.” She shook her head slightly and actually managed to muster a polite smile. “It was fine. I’m just not into that kind of thing and when I agreed to it I was under the influence of my mum’s Margaritas. You know how bad those are for my reasoning ability. Remember how when I was fourteen Kirst and I stole a pitcher during your dad’s forty-fifth birthday bash and got wasted. You rocked up just after Kirst puked and managed to convince us that if you told on us we’d both get grounded for months.”
He frowned faintly as he scratched his head, obviously trying to recall the event in question. “I think I blackmailed you. Didn’t I?”
“Damn straight. You said that the only way you would keep quiet about it was if we polished your motorbike everyday for a week. I think it was the first time in my life that I wished the school days would never end.”
“Oh yeah. It’s all coming back to me now. My bike was never shinier.” He smiled at the memory, no doubt quite proud of himself. “But you got something out of the deal too. The next weekend you managed to talk me into teaching you how to ride.”
“Yeah, but let’s not forget that two weeks later my dad found out and we both got grounded.”
He shook his head, his eyes twinkling with suppressed laughter. “No. You got grounded. I got my licence revoked.”
