by Thea Devine
“You want references? I knew it. A hard-nosed dieter like you…”
“You don’t have references. And I know how hard-nosed you are.”
His tone changed subtly. “Oh, you absolutely do, don’t you.”
“Jed…”
“You don’t have to imagine it anymore, You don’t have to hear about it from her. You have firsthand experience and now you know.”
Oh God. I resorted to the age-old denial that sounded false even to my ears. “It’s not like that.”
“Right. Paula didn’t talk about me—us—ever.”
I wouldn’t confirm or deny that. “I don’t want to talk about Paula, unless…” Genius idea. Kind of like sending Jason after the Golden Fleece. “Unless you know someone we can hook her up with.”
“I know a lot of someones,” Jed said cautiously. “But they’d ask me for references and I’m a gentleman and…you don’t want that.”
“No, I just want—”
“Me. You want me.”
My breath caught again and there was a long silence as I frantically tried to define a response to that.
“I want—okay, this is what I want. I want…”
“Me,” he interpolated again.
“Okay, now I think The Guy Diet has made me delusional, because I could swear you said…”
“Yeah, I said it. You want me. No denials. Not after yesterday.”
“That’s off the wall, Jed. And besides…”
“What? What objections could you possibly have? You don’t report to me anymore. I’m not with anyone, you’re off guys altogether, other than talking to me. No one can have any objections…”
I started to open my mouth and closed it. “I’m still on The Diet.”
“Okay. Phone sex till you end the ridiculous diet. When is it over? You have to be ready to have sex by now. Especially after yesterday. I tasted that hunger in you. And I sure want to have sex with you.”
He was right; the diet could be over anytime I said it was, but I decided not to tell him that.
As for sex—I was still holding out for got-my-back guy. And that wasn’t him. I knew too much about him as he’d so easily intuited. And I was too vulnerable to him.
Beyond that, there were too many things working against our even having dinner together, let alone anything else, that I thought I’d better not say another word. Especially not the P word.
“Tell me you’re done with the damned diet.”
I made a sound, stuffing back the words, I could be. This was temptation in its purest form. This was the suffering and penance part and there just wasn’t any middle ground. Not even for Jed Costigan.
“Not,” I managed to squeak. “I’m not done yet.”
“When?”
“End of summer. About another two weeks.”
“Is anyone really keeping track?” Jed asked. “Dumb question. Of course someone is.”
“I made such a big deal of it…”
“Did you?” Okay, sarcasm not lost on me. He went on, “Honest to God, Lo. It’s all about the big deal you made of it. And you’re pushing this thing beyond everyone’s limit. But—it’s your diet. You do what you have to do. I’ll call you tonight.”
Was that just a little abrupt? This was exactly the moment you could read things into a conversation or a quick turn-off that could make you crazy.
Since Jed wasn’t got-my-back guy, and this wasn’t that relationship where all things are possible, I decided it was safer not to read anything into it at all.
For about ten minutes. Then I thought—did he really say what I thought he’d said? Why did I go with him yesterday? Why did I let him kiss me like that? For so many hours?
I groaned, thinking of the ride home in the luxury limo with his body on mine, and his endless, mind-blowing kisses softening my body, my heart, my desire…and his iron-man restraint in not demanding anything more.
That could screw up an afternoon’s worth of work, parsing the did he means and the silences in between.
Enough of that. The Guy Diet was now officially not cost-effective. It was running my life and maybe ruining it at this point.
Maybe I’d missed meeting a great guy in my effort to avoid the get-go guys. Maybe I really had to rethink the whole idea of saving myself till I found that guy.
I was pretty certain Jed wasn’t that guy. Jed was the intrigued gets-everything-he-wants guy who’d bumped into a wall he couldn’t breach. Guys like Jed either went around or climbed over obstacles. Or knocked them down. And God, he knew how to kiss.
He wasn’t a stand-still kind of guy, either, for all his great qualities. He liked variety. He was easily bored. Wait, wait, wait—check that—he wasn’t bored yesterday from hours of sand surfing with me.
That was something I knew from Paula. I knew other stuff, too, which made it problematic that I would ever succumb to his idea that I wanted him. In spite of those kisses. In spite of the fact that we were so combustible.
Because before he’d ever put his hands on me, I knew how large they were, how firmly he could touch, how delicately he could find the places you didn’t know existed that you wanted him to discover. I knew what he looked like naked, how much time he took to arouse and enfold you, and sometimes how raw and primitive he could be. I knew the things he said. I knew how long he held you in the aftermath.
I knew—I knew too much and I knew it all solely from one person’s experience. And I never let myself even for a moment remember.
Until yesterday.
You want me.
How could anybody really want anybody before they even knew each other in a deep-pored, beneath-the-skin kind of way?
I meant the kind of knowing where you’re accepted for your flaws and wanted in spite of and because of them.
Like when you were in l—
Oh God, I was actually thinking the L word.
And all the way on the ride home from Brooklyn yesterday, in the midst of all the kissing, I kept remembering the details. Paula loved to dwell on the details because they were so juicy and good even as their relationship had gone sour.
By her account, he was in it for the sex and nothing more, but now I didn’t know if that were even true, or just wishful thinking on her part. Or maybe she was in it for the sex and he had wanted more—but just not with her.
Whose truth was the reality?
What was the truth of any relationship if each partner told a different story? All this time it was Paula’s story, and I had seen Jed only as she had defined him.
Yesterday afternoon had rocked my foundation. His kisses were a foundation—and I didn’t want to discover there were any cracks.
And, adding to all that was on my plate already, Paula was due home soon.
“Yes, I had a good trip. Yes, the client is happy. Yes, I had sex. Anything else you’d like to know?” she asked cheerfully before she’d been home for five minutes.
“Tell me about the client part,” I said, backpedaling around the obvious.
“They liked the new creative direction. And Washington is really cool—especially at night.”
Good. She was so buoyant, the sex must have been great.
“So what’s up with you?”
So I told her. “Big news, maybe. The WestEnder was sold to a new block of investors who, among other expansion ideas, are bringing on the columnists full-time. People like me.”
She sobered instantly. “So Jed’s out of it?”
Silly me. What other detail would she be interested in? But no. I said as little as possible to corroborate that. “That’s my understanding. I signed my contract yesterday.”
“That’s great. More money, right?”
“Regular money, anyway.”
“So no more Guy Diet.”
“I’m thinking about it.”
“Could you just end it so we can go out and have fun? Maybe we could eat out once in a while? In fact, how about we celebrate the new management by having dinner out tonight?”
/> Distract her. It was the only thing I could think of. Anything was better than talking about Jed.
“Okay. Let’s do it. And we’ll celebrate the fact that tonight I’m officially off The Guy Diet.”
Only I’d had no idea how liberating it had been to be on The Guy Diet, because the minute I came off it, I was not a happy camper.
We went to the bar-restaurant we’d gone to for my so-called aversion therapy. I was still feeling pretty averse, and a scan of the crowd didn’t reassure me.
Still I decided to play along because I wanted Paula to be happy. I just didn’t know how far I was willing to go because she obviously was on the hunt, and a one-night stand in Washington couldn’t even hold her for one day.
You see how complicated things get? And I hadn’t even added in the possibility of Jed’s phone call.
I tried to forget about all that and concentrate on enjoying the dinner and Paula’s company. I flirted a little bit to ease her mind and prayed, to ease mine, that Jed hadn’t meant what he’d said.
Right now the important thing was that Paula and I were out together surrounded by guys, and we could have our choice of any of them that night.
I didn’t want any of them for five minutes.
This had to be a residual effect of The Guy Diet. Major impatience. Irritation with small talk. You started to be very particular about the things with which you chose to nourish yourself.
So I was just going to whip out food analogies every time I didn’t like someone?
I had changed.
That realization hit me right in the gut.
I had changed—mentally, philosophically, physically. Radically.
But nothing around me had changed, not my friends or their after-hours habits, or my recreational pursuits, because why would I choose to be here if I wasn’t enjoying myself?
It was a staggering moment.
I had changed. And the old ways weren’t going to work for me anymore. I felt as if I had taken a quantum leap beyond all this and that The Guy Diet had gotten me there.
Whatever it was, I was finished here. I might have even been finished with Paula as a roommate, but I didn’t want to negate that so fast. There weren’t all that many reasonable, albeit tiny, one-bedroom shares in Manhattan.
At least I didn’t have to leave her there. Bill or Andy or Tim—I don’t remember his name—told me she’d already left with this guy, Red, who knew about some party happening down in NoHo.
Just what Paula loved, being among the A-listers at some exclusive party event.
Perfect. No excuses needed. I grabbed a cab, flipped my cell from vibrate to ring and immediately it rang.
A lot of missed calls, I saw. All from Jed. “Hey.”
“You’ve been off call for a damned long time.”
“So I have.” Treading lightly here. He was a man of his word, after all. He had called.
“And you’re where, now?”
“Almost home.”
“Good. Meet you there.”
The last thing I wanted. “Jed—” But it was too late. And the cab was just turning onto my street, and damn it, there was someone waiting.
This is going to spoil everything.
That was what I thought. Crazy, right?
I almost said, Don’t stop. Take me to…oh, down to NoHo…but, I mean, Jed was no threat. He was just a sweet treat on which Paula had overindulged, who might just send me into sugar shock if I even tasted what he was offering.
He was right there to pay for the cab the moment it stopped, and then he held out his hand to me.
I knew too many things. His hands…
I didn’t want to remember, not the warmth, not the feeling of fitting, not anything to do with…anything that had happened between us, anything about him that I could…like.
“So invite me up.”
I couldn’t get out of it. I had no reason to refuse after those kisses, that afternoon. I wasn’t too happy that he had taken the choice out of my hands, but I said dutifully, “Would you like to come up?”
There was absolutely a smile in his eyes, and I knew this was going to be one hellacious trial by…liking him too much.
He knew the apartment, of course. And of course there was the abominable, awkward, getting-acclimated moments. God, I hate those moments.
“Wine?”
“Nope.” He was ambling around the living room looking at the books.
“Coffee?”
“Nope.” He swiveled around to look at me. “What do you think?”
“I’m trying not to think.”
“It’s there in your face, Lo, you are thinking.”
Oh God. “It’s that obvious?” I moved farther away from him. I knew what I was doing. “Do you want to sit?”
“Nope.”
Now I was getting jittery. Don’t ask the question. You know what the answer will be.
“Talk?”
“God, no.”
“Jed…” I knew too much, and all of it was welling up inside me like a symphony.
I wanted it so badly I could scream. “You should go.”
“No. I should stay. I want to stay. You want me to stay.”
I took a deep calculated breath. “I know too much,” I said—no, I blurted it.
That didn’t faze him in the least. “Me, too,” he said simply, leaving me to wonder what exactly he meant by that.
I wasn’t going to ask. I wasn’t.
“What do you mean by that?”
“You know.”
I hate games. You see? This was why The Guy Diet worked. You get impatient with crap because there were more important things to get to.
Like getting Jed out of my space so that I could breathe.
Because I knew what he meant by, me, too.
“So I’m finally standing here in your living room,” Jed said at length, as he stared out the window, “and here’s the thing. I don’t give a damn about Paula.”
“Well, that’s good,” I muttered.
“Don’t you think?”
He was the cat toying with Miss Mouse—me.
“I think it would be nice if you leave.”
“Maybe I should get to the kissing part. That was pretty effective.”
That stopped me. I couldn’t breathe. Just couldn’t…breathe.
Because I knew things. Because I loved his kisses. Because I wanted him more than I wanted to admit…
And because I’d have regrets whatever I chose to do.
He watched me so carefully, I knew he saw all my feelings play all over my face. Including the knows-too-much part.
But then, there was, me, too. And that scared me to death.
I suddenly realized that the minute he touched me, all my crutches would be gone, all the jokes and food allusions in the disposal unit. No protective covering, no rights of refusal prior to the act.
Tonight he was the wall, and I couldn’t get over, around or under—no, check that—I could be under him for this one night in one minute with just one kiss. I knew it, deep in my bones. I wanted to, badly—but I couldn’t let myself. Somewhere a little voice reminded me of the betrayal part.
He waited, I waffled and the silence thickened unbearably. Finally, he held out his hand. “Come to me, Lo.”
My body felt explosive. My body wanted him, the kisses, the sex, everything—with him.
It felt as if I’d been in suspended animation, waiting for him; as if I’d suppressed and denied every piece of evidence that he was truly perfect, and the knowledge that once I reached out my hand, I could never go back.
I took his hand. He drew me against him and touched my face, my lips, my hair. He kissed me then, a light, testing, seeking kiss, no rush, no hurry, no urgency, just feel, feel, feel. I felt my heart accelerate, my body give as heat sparked all over me, enveloping me in the heat of him from those raindrop kisses that slowly, sensually went deeper, more controlling, driven by the hard edge of restrained lust, violent need and something more.
/> And then he drew away—again just inches—to whisper, “This is even better than yesterday.”
He felt a little moue of denial on my part.
“Why are you so surprised?”
“Why aren’t you?” I retorted, instantly on the offensive. Be offensive. That would reveal his true colors. Or mine. “Why was it long past time?”
He gave me a long, considering look. “You really don’t know.”
“I really don’t,” I said, softening my voice, because there was something here above and beyond the inevitability of the moment.
I couldn’t stop looking at him then. It felt as if I’d never seen him before.
I wondered what he was thinking, because he obviously was in no rush to answer my question or amplify anything he’d said previously.
“Actually,” he said after a pause. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
For the second time with Jed, I was speechless.
“Don’t say anything. Everything’s been said.”
I found my voice. “When? When was everything said?”
There was a sparkle of humor in his eyes. “When you kissed me at the beach.”
How did he know, how?
“I just wanted you to know,” he added softly.
“Oh.” Wait, what did that mean, just wanted you to know?
“‘Oh’ is very eloquent,” Jed murmured. “Tell me more.” He drew me close and I knew it was going to happen now. I wished for a moment that it wouldn’t, because I wanted it to be perfect, and not here, in my shared living room, where anyone could walk in and catch us.
It didn’t matter, though, because all the questions were answered.
I could have kissed him all night, but the urge to touch, strip and feel my naked flesh against his was way more powerful than the idea of restraint and taking my time.
I had wasted too much time already. Still, I took my time, anyway, slowly removing his shirt, then sliding my hands all over his chest, feeling the substance and power of his body. Fed by his kisses, his murmuring encouragement, I took the lead and he let me.
He was so beautiful, his body so strong, muscular and taut, I almost couldn’t bear it; his belly, his narrow hips—my favorite parts—his penis, so perfect, surging into my hands.
I felt a hunger to know him everywhere as he slowly undressed me. Everything I wanted, he wanted—to touch, to feel, to know every part of my nakedness, everything he’d denied himself all these months, I gave him now. No holding back. No doubts, fears, intrusive memories, no what ifs.
