by S. L. Scott
“Do you have to?”
“It’s already after five. I need to do laundry and get ready for the week.”
His expression softens, a small need wrapped in the crinkle around his eyes. “You can stay if you want.”
“I appreciate that, but I’ve invaded your space two nights in a row. Surely—”
“Invade it some more.” I’m kissed with lips that set my soul on fire. His presence overwhelms me. His body owns mine with the gentlest of touches. He makes me want to give in, to bend for him, to be what he needs, and right now, he needs me.
It’s exhilarating to be with him, but I need to be clearheaded. With my hands on his chest, I break us apart, and take a step back. “You’re so sure and—”
“I want you to stay.” His words are rushed, almost frantic.
“I may be falling but I don’t want to crash.”
Strong arms wrap around me. “I’ll catch you.”
I whisper, “Seems you found faith again.”
“Not just faith. Trust. I have trust in you, and us.”
“So we are friends in public, more in private. What happens when the cases are over? Or am I a secret forever?”
“To the people who matter, we don’t hide. We’re dating. It’s everyone else I want to keep out. Not forever. For now.”
“Okay.” I exhale a deep breath. I’m not a dirty secret, but I don’t want to be the cause of his downfall either. “I need to go to my place. I need to check in with Melanie and have a few hours of normalcy away from your fire-hot kisses and the weak knees I have from being around you. This place. You.” It’s intoxicating, making me delirious.
The intensity between us seems to be tapering off, his taut jaw unclenches. Understanding washes over his face, and he nods. “I’ll order a car. I would take you myself, but—”
“I know. We would be seen together, and we can’t be.”
He nods this time for a different reason while pressing a few buttons on his phone. “We have legal meetings next week. There’s potential for the cases to settle. I know Keith is bleeding financially, and if he carries on with this lawsuit, all the money will go to pay his legal bill.”
As we walk to the elevator, I really love that he still drapes his arm over my shoulder. He lends his strength to me, which is comforting. “The car will be in the garage. Go to the bottom level. ”
“Okay.” I stop to wait, the button already pressed. “The other case, what’s the worst that can happen?”
“She claims I sexually assaulted her that night and she’s bearing my child, which she also claims is a future witness against me as a destructive father, so she wants full custody and twenty thousand in childcare.”
“Wow,” I sigh. “I don’t know the cost of raising a child a year, but that is a lot of money.”
“That’s what she wants per month.”
“Excuse me?”
“I know. I feel the same when it comes to paying her anything.”
“But you said you caught her with your best friend?”
“I did, but it’s my word against hers.”
The pieces click into place. “The child could be his.”
Shame colors his expression and his face lowers. “If the baby is mine, she’ll use the arrest and photos to claim I’m unfit and have a lottery winner’s landfall at my expense.”
“What about the baby?”
“I’ll fight for my child. I’ll spend every dollar if I have to. I’ll take care of my kid no matter what.”
I don’t want to ask about finances. I’m in no position to know how his life will or won’t be affected, but I know I’d rather see him happy and poor than rich and desolate. “I’m here for you, Ethan. Your secrets are safe with me.” I embrace him, my arms around his middle, and my head against him. Each of the beats of his heart are strong, but steady.
“I know you are.” Kissing my head, he replies, “Thank you.”
He needs me. “I’m just a phone call away. If you need to vent to someone, let it be me.”
Smiling, I lift up and kiss him just as the elevator dings and the doors open. Backing into the elevator, he reaches out and grabs my hand, tugging me against him again and kissing me twice as hard with more passion than ever before.
When I’m good and breathless, I’m released. My fingertips go to my mouth, and I press them against my tingling lips. That’s when I know for sure.
I’m long past falling.
I’m head over feet in deep with this man.
22
Singer
A bottle of champagne is popped open, followed by Mel warning me, “You need to hurry. He’ll be here any minute.”
“I’m almost ready,” I shout from the bathroom. “Just one little”—she appears in the reflection with two glasses of bubbly, so I stop shouting—“touch up.”
“You look beautiful,” she says, smiling. “You’re gonna knock him on his ass.”
“I’m quite partial to that ass. I’d hate to see it injured.” I laugh.
“You are so far gone. Good sex will do that to a girl.”
I love having sex with Ethan. No one ever put my needs first . . . or even last when I think about my lame boyfriends of the past. “It’s not just the sex, Mel,” I reply a little too dreamily. So much so that I giggle inwardly.
“I love seeing this side of you. So happy.” She hip bumps me. “And goofy.”
“Goofy?”
“In the best of ways. Carefree. You look gorgeous.”
“This dress is gorgeous.” I smooth my hands down my waist and over my hips admiring the fine material.
“It’s not the dress that makes the woman. It’s the woman in love who makes the dress.”
I take a glass from the counter and tap it against hers. “Now that I’ll toast to.”
We both sip, then she says, “Mike and I decided we’re staying in.”
“I thought you wanted to go out. It’s Saturday night. You live for Saturday night.”
Shrugging, she sits on the side of the tub and watches me finish up. “He said he wanted to stay in.”
“And so it begins. Women are so adaptable. We mold ourselves to what we think men want—”
“I don’t mind staying in. We’re going to watch movies.”
“But what do you really want to do?” I ask, eyeing her in the reflection of the mirror.
“Dance. He’s not a dancer, so he doesn’t like going to the clubs. But he’s a nice guy and I like being treated nicely. He’s different from the losers I’ve dated.”
“You deserve nice, my friend. I just want you happy too.”
“I don’t need to dance. I just like to dance. There’s a difference. I also don’t want to be alone the rest of my life. Anyway,” she says, standing and walking to the door. “What guy likes to go to a club? Not many, so compromising on this may mean he’ll compromise for me on something else. That’s how relationships work.” She leaves on that note, whistling as she walks away.
A knock echoes into the apartment. Ethan. Giddiness runs through my body. I quickly finish applying my lipstick while listening to Melanie greet him. “Well, don’t you look handsome?”
She sounds like my mother talking to my prom date, which makes me laugh. I toss my lipstick in my purse, slip on a pair of very sexy four-inch sparkling Jimmy Choo heels that mysteriously appeared in the back seat of the car when Aaron picked me up after getting my hair done earlier. I was afraid to search online to see the price, but Mel happily did and warned me not to look, to just enjoy. She also made me promise she could borrow them along with the dress when she had a Cinderella event to attend.
I could stand here for days and stare at this deep purple dress and the incredible shoes, but I think it’s best to hurry and let him stare instead. I’m going for jaw dropping, and he doesn’t disappoint.
Jaw dropping goes both ways.
Standing in the doorway of my apartment is the most attractive man I have ever seen. Black tailored tuxedo, clearly
custom-made for his trim, but athletic build. A bow tie wraps around his neck that matches the midnight sky, and a perfectly pressed white pintucked shirt spans the opening of the jacket. I’ve never been one to use the term debonair, but James Bond has nothing on the strikingly handsome, debonair Ethan Everest.
“Hi,” I say, breathless, though I had plenty seconds before he stole them from me.
“Hello, Singer.” With his eyes still on mine, he says, “You look stunning.”
The blush I’ve started calling the Everest blush, since he’s the only person who can summon it, rises from my tummy covering my chest and higher to my cheeks. “Thank you.”
With a man this handsome looking at me like I make his world a better place, I almost fail to notice the flowers in his hand—gorgeous pale pink peonies wrapped with greenery in tissue paper with a deep pink bow. “These reminded me of you.”
I think my cheeks must now match the ribbon instead of the beautiful blooms. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”
Melanie is right there, taking them from me. “I’ll put these in a vase for you.”
Ethan offers, “Can we give you a ride somewhere?”
She waves us off. “No. I’m good. Low-key night for Mike and me. You guys go and have fun and scoot-a-loo.”
I give her a hug. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She whispers in my ear, “Can’t wait to hear all the dirty details.”
I’m very aware that she said that loud enough for Ethan to hear. He chuckles, confirming my notion, and replies, “Here’s hoping I don’t disappoint then.”
She says, “I’m sure you have no problem when it comes to pleasing a woma—”
“Okay,” I end it before this conversation gets embarrassing. Grabbing Ethan’s sleeve, I tug. “Goodnight, Mel.”
As soon as the door is shut, I joke, “Now you see why I can’t take her anywhere.”
“She’s great and has a good sense of humor.”
“Despite embarrassing me, she is. The best.”
Outside, Aaron is waiting by the car and opens the door for us. “Good evening, Aaron.”
“Good evening, Ms. Davis.”
“Stop charming the ladies, Aaron. You’re making me look bad.”
“I’m sure you hold your own quite well, Mr. Everest.”
“I’ve always liked you, Aaron. You’re good for my ego.”
“That’s what I’m here for. That, and driving.”
Ethan unbuttons his jacket and slides in next to me. The door is shut, and suddenly my heart leaps from being alone with this man . . . well, as alone as we can be with Aaron up in the front.
His cufflink catches the light, and I take hold of his wrist for a better look. “Baseball? I think you’re obsessed.”
“I used to play in high school. I wasn’t good enough for the minors.”
“But you tried out?”
A look of awkwardness crosses his strong features and he looks down. “Yes. Twice.” When he looks up at me again, he adds, “Twice was enough. It was time I put my other skills to use.”
“To create your company?”
“Yes. My peers thought I was a dumb jock. I wasn’t. I made the honor roll every semester, but I kept that hidden. I knew I would be made fun of if they found out.”
“Kids are cruel.”
“Kids are predictable, and I like coming from the underdog position in sports and everything else. It gives me a good vantage point. Another reason is once you settle high up on that pedestal, you become lazy. That’s when you’re vulnerable and weak. Business, like baseball, is strategic.”
I lean back, engrossed by his road to success, and ask, “Where did you go to college?”
“Princeton.”
“New Jersey is a long way from Texas.”
“Best decision I made. The website had grown, and by the time I started my sophomore year, I had the site running and had made millions in ads that ran along the borders of each page you clicked on. By my senior year, I owned four divisional companies under one umbrella corporation. I’d already made enough to not work the rest of my life if I chose.”
“That’s amazing. You made your dreams come true.”
When he laughs, it’s hardy, good to hear. “I can buy a baseball team, but I can’t buy my way onto a team.”
“I’m sure you could.”
“Ha! I wouldn’t want to be on a team that would want me.”
“You don’t seem the loner type, but you are self-deprecating.”
“Underdog,” he says, sending me a wink and sexy smirk. “What brought you to New York?”
The traffic is normal for Manhattan, barely flowing. “I wanted to prove to my friends and family that I was bigger than the suburbs and Pagely Whitehead.”
“What’s a Pagely Whitehead?”
“A Pagely Whitehead is the guy who lived next door.”
“Ahhh. The boy next door. Let me guess. He had a crush on you?”
“Boy, did he. And he had my family convinced we were meant to be together.”
“You never wanted to be Mrs. Whitehead?”
“Oh, God no. He was awful, and smelly. He’s now a tax inspector for the Revenue Commission in Denver.”
Ethan’s face scrunches. “Tax guys aren’t my favorite people. I pay a lot of taxes and pay the financial guys and lawyers to keep things straight and legal.”
“Well, guess we have something in common because tax guys aren’t my favorite either.”
The car stops in front of the hotel, and a valet opens the door for us. Ethan sticks his arm out and I take it. “Goodnight, Aaron.”
“Goodnight, Ms. Davis.”
“So formal in front of the boss.”
“Keeping up appearances,” he replies with a grin.
As soon as we enter the hotel, our arms fall to our sides. Ethan whispers, “You’re listed in their media section as a family friend.”
“That gives me a lot of wiggle room to flirt.”
I’m hit with a playful glare. “That flirting better be directed at me, or I won’t be able to keep this cover.”
“Two way street, mister.”
Inside the hotel, we catch an elevator just before it closes. It’s crowded, but he says, “You look incredibly beautiful tonight.”
No lowered voice.
No whispering just for me.
Full volume as if we’re the only two in the elevator.
Tapping his hand with mine, I reply quietly, “Thank you,” so only he can hear. Free from the elevator, we walk to the reception area. “You’re not very good at this friend thing.”
“You make it difficult to pretend I don’t find you utterly breathtaking.”
“We can find each other attractive. We just can’t act on it.”
“True.”
Brushing my hand across his, I add, “We’ll make up for it later though.”
“Want to skip this party?”
The doors are open when we approach, and I’ve never seen such a glamorous party in my life. My mouth opens as I take in the gold-room lit by beautiful chandeliers and candlelight. “Can we stay for a while?”
“Ye—”
“Ethan Everest, I thought that was you . . .” A woman with a blond bob chatters on, speaking a million words a minute and holding Ethan’s arms like he’ll escape if she doesn’t. She never introduces herself to me, and if I’m reading Ethan correctly, he doesn’t know who she is.
I stand politely to the side, and from their brief conversation, she missed him in The Hamptons last summer but looks forward to catching up with him soon.
He extricates himself before she has a chance to get clingier than she already is, and leads me inside the ballroom. The gleaming crystal chandeliers are eye-catching and people are dressed to the nines.
Sneaking a peek at Ethan, I want to kiss him, to thank him, to hug him for making me feel so beautiful, for making me feel like I belong. Tonight I’m his escort, a friend of his, or a work associate. I’ll go
along with whatever he wants or needs me to be. “I’ve never been to something this fancy.”
“It’s not that fancy under the blinding lights.”
We start walking again. Tossing his words about, I say, “I feel like I’m supposed to read between the lines.”
“Maybe.”
“Well, that’s no help.”
Our gazes catch and a twinkle resides in his, making me smile. His hand touches my lower back. “I like to keep you guessing.”
“That you do, all the time.”
When we arrive at our table, one of the first things I notice are assigned seats, and mine is three away from Ethan’s. My gaze darts to him. His eyes lay heavy on mine already. Reaching down, he takes his place card and swaps it with the person to the right of my chair. “We’re sitting next to each other.”
Just as I start to sit, his fingers brush along my wrist, and he whispers, “Would you like to dance?”
“Yes,” I reply, but it tends toward more of a purr against his skin, skin I want to lick, to nip, and other things that will lead to us being naked together.
He takes my purse and sets it on the table before leading me to the dance floor. Pulling me close, we begin to sway unhurried. The song is instrumental and not particularly slow, but with Ethan’s hand on my waist and holding my other in his like he owns it, it could be “When the Saints Go Marching In,” and I wouldn’t know the difference. Every song is a love song when our bodies are pressed together and his cheek is against mine.
We’ve become a slow burn on a hot night. The air in here is so combustible I worry my heart will be obliterated by it.
Our moment together is interrupted when a dark-haired man with darker eyes starts patting Ethan on the back. Ethan takes a step back from me, our hands falling to our sides—the perfect picture of platonic. A look in his eyes resembles the sadness I feel when I’m homesick. His lips move, but the words are silent, “I’m sorry.”
Turning to the intruder, the man’s boisterous voice overwhelms the intimacy Ethan and I were sharing. “Good to see you, Everest. How’s business?”
