by Jessica Dale
I almost didn’t answer, not recognizing the name at first.
On the third ring, I took the call. “Hello?”
“Hi, Erica.” The voice was deep, sexy, confident.
“Drew?”
Silence. Then, “Of course, who were you expecting?’
That threw me. Not you, I thought.
“Uh, how did you get my number?”
A low chuckle. “I have my ways.”
I faked a light tone. “Well, it’s nice to hear from you.”
“I’ve been meaning to call and ask you out.”
Anger did battle with intrigue. No Nice to talk to you too or How have you been? I was trying to decide if I should stifle the anger or the intrigue.
But he didn’t give me much time to think. “You’re not committed to anyone, are you?”
“No.” Definitely not, I emphatically told myself.
“So how ’bout lunch on Saturday?” He named a restaurant. Columbia is divided into villages and each has a “village center,” an area of shops and restaurants. The place he’d mentioned was in one of them, one village over from mine.
And on the other side of town from the village center where I worked.
Nobody’s likely to see us together.
“Uh, I don’t know,” I said out loud.
“It’s only lunch. I’d just like to get to know you better. You seem like an interesting person.”
Part of my brain recognized that as a line, but still I was flattered. My chest warmed a little and my stomach muscles relaxed. Before my head had a chance to decide, my treacherous mouth was saying, “Yeah. Okay, I guess.”
He chuckled, low and deep, setting off a vibration inside of my body and confusion in my brain.
“Noon,” he said and disconnected.
As surely as a recovering alcoholic knows he shouldn’t go into that bar, even if it was “just to get something to eat,” I knew I should call him back and cancel.
But I didn’t.
“It’s only lunch,” I muttered to myself.
And it wasn’t like I was actually dating anyone, not really. And certainly not exclusively.
.
“Earth to Erica.” Jan, my boss, waved a hand in front of me. But a smile creased her broad face. She was short and plump and the most efficient person I’d ever known.
I gave her a wane smile back. “Sorry.”
I’d been distracted all day, my mind darting back and forth between thoughts of Drew and Jules. And my emotions fluctuating between guilt and defiance.
Fortunately it had been a slow day, or perhaps unfortunately. If work had been busier, maybe I could have forgotten about my dilemma for a while.
It’s not a dilemma, my inner voice insisted, it’s just lunch.
“Is everything set for tomorrow?”
I nodded. “Good to go.” The more accurate answer would have been as set as it could be.
Tomorrow, we would be setting up for a wedding reception on Saturday in our main ballroom of Hopkins House, one of a dozen event venues in Columbia.
I was events coordinator for the elegant old mansion. Lulls like today were not uncommon. Everything for an event was discussed ad nauseam, and then selected, coordinated and ordered well in advance. Jan would tolerate nothing less. She was the queen of organization.
But the day of set-up was, for lack of a better term, organized chaos. Inevitably the centerpieces would arrive before the tablecloths, the sound system would develop a short, or the bride or corporation or whoever would make some last-minute adjustments in the seating arrangements.
The brides were the worst. They tended to have at least one major meltdown over something on the eve of their weddings. I couldn’t quite understand how they put so much energy into one day of their lives.
I gave a small shudder and picked up the phone to do a final confirmation with the DJ.
<<>>
Jules
Thank God, it’s Friday took on a whole new meaning this week. I couldn’t wait to see Erica tonight, especially since I had to be away for the rest of the weekend.
I’d been trying out nicknames in my head. Eric sounded too masculine, Errie, too flaky. I’d landed on Ricki. My guess was no one had called her that before.
Tonight she was coming to my place for dinner. I stopped work early, in order to have plenty of time to get ready, and to pick up the lasagna and salad I’d ordered from Carrabba’s.
All that went off without a hitch and the lasagna was nestled in my oven on warm, along with a crusty loaf of bread, when my doorbell rang.
Unfortunately things went south from there. She seemed really uptight and awkward, even more so than on our first date, which I wasn’t allowed to call a date.
I did my best to put her at ease as I ushered her into the small living room of my condo and gestured for her to sit on the sofa. I poured her a glass of the fairly expensive Italian wine I’d bought to go with the lasagna.
She downed it in two gulps.
I topped off her glass and opted not to do so with mine. I only had one bottle of the stuff.
“So, Ricki, how was your week?”
Her head jerked around to stare at me. One eyebrow went up. “Ricki?”
I shrugged. “I like nicknames.”
“Hmm, Ricki,” she said, her tone musing.
“It’s either that or Eric.”
She grinned at me. “Hell no!”
I smiled back, felt my muscles relax. Finally she was unwinding. She must’ve had quite a week at work.
“Why do you feel the need to rename people?” she asked as she sipped wine.
I shrugged. I’d never really thought about it. “I’ve done it since I was a little kid. I had this babysitter named Sarah, and for some reason I called her Sari. Everybody thought it was cute so...” My voice trailed off as an insight made my chest ache.
“I think after my sister died...” I choked up a little. Clearing my throat, I continued, “I think it became a bit of an obsession. See, I was the only one who called her Mellie. Everybody else called her Amy.”
She reached over and took my hand, gave it a squeeze. Then she raised her wineglass in the air. “Ricki it is, then.”
We adjourned to the small table in my eat-in kitchen that I’d tried to dress up with a white linen tablecloth and my grandmother’s china, which my mother had given me when I left home.
I served up the meal and we ate in silence for a few minutes. Then we both started talking at once.
“I hope–”
“Look, Jules–”
I let out a nervous chuckle. “You were saying?”
“No.” Her cheeks turned pink. “What were you going to say?”
I took a quick sip of wine. “Are you really okay with me calling you Ricki? I mean I can just call you Erica if you like.”
“No, it’s kinda sweet that you’re giving me a special nickname.”
“I only do that with people I really like.”
The pink tinge deepened to red. “Uh, Jules, I don’t... I mean, please don’t get the wrong idea here. Like I said last week, I’m not really into dating anymore.” She looked away.
I struggled to keep my voice even. “Why not?”
She sighed and put down her fork. “I’m twenty-eight years old and I’ve had...” she paused and made a show of counting on her fingers, “...five serious relationships, not counting high school crushes, and they’ve all ended in disaster.”
Again my gut said to be patient. Maybe I could get her to open up more later. “Okay. I understand, I guess. I’ve had my share of break-ups too. Hey, do you want more lasagna?”
She shook her head.
“I’ve got cheesecake for dessert.” Bought from the local bakery, of course. I’d figured, since she’d had cheesecake prepared for our dessert last week, she must like it, right?
She let out a mock groan, then laughed. “I’ve already gained ten pounds from the cheesecake we didn’t eat last Saturday.”
I laughed with
her. “We can skip it then.”
I rose from my chair and offered her my hand. She picked up her wineglass and let me lead her into the living room.
Once there, she veered off toward the closed door across the room. “Bedroom?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes and giving me a coy smile.
I’d figured on some more conversation on the sofa, but I could hardly drag her over there.
In the bedroom, she put her almost empty glass down on the nightstand and quickly began to unbutton my shirt.
I stilled her hand with my own and engaged her in a deep kiss, while I slowly relieved her of her blouse and unzipped her slacks.
She broke the kiss and grinned up at me. “I like a man who doesn’t mess around.”
Actually, I’d planned to mess around a lot longer, but...
Naked and flopped down on my bed on top of the covers, I suddenly felt like she wasn’t all that with me anymore.
She continued to seem a bit distracted as I started at her toes and worked my way north. When I got to her inner thighs, I suddenly had her full attention.
She moaned and spread them wide.
I ran my tongue along the tender skin at the very top of her thigh.
She arched her back and whimpered.
I teased the edges of her vagina. She arched further and screamed my name.
I squashed the worry that the neighbors might call the police and delved deeper with my tongue.
Suddenly she grabbed my hair, hauling me upward over her. “Enter me,” she hissed. “Now, you sonofabitch!”
I obliged with great haste.
She screamed incoherently as I plunged again and again.
I was sure the police would be pounding on my door any moment. I really didn’t give a damn!
<<>>
Erica
Jules had finally gotten my mind off of Drew. But as we lay in bed afterwards, his arm around my shoulders pulling me close against him, the guilt came creeping back.
I turned on my side and laid my hand on his bare chest. That smooth, muscular chest. I swallowed hard. “Um, I can’t stay tonight.”
He cocked his head to one side so he could look down into my face. “Why not?”
“I’m going shopping with a girlfriend tomorrow. She wanted to get an early start.”
“You’ve got a new friend?” He smiled.
What was I thinking? I’d complained to him on several occasions about my lack of local friends.
“Well, maybe I shouldn’t call her a friend yet. She’s new... at work.” Wait, Jules knew there were only a few employees at Hopkins House.
“I mean, I met her through work.” Oh, the tangled web we weave... “And we’ve gotten friendly.”
“Hey, that’s great.” He kissed me on the top of my head.
Guilt washed over me.
“It’s probably just as well,” he said. “My plane’s at noon.”
That jogged my memory. He’d mentioned a business meeting this weekend, in New York. Somehow that made me feel less guilty.
I threw off the sheet on my side of the bed and started gathering my discarded clothing. I needed to get out of there, before I blurted something out in an unguarded moment.
Not that we were committed or anything. Hell, I’d told him often enough that we weren’t even dating.
But somehow I knew he’d be hurt if he found out I was having lunch with Drew.
Even though it was just lunch.
CHAPTER SIX
Erica
At eleven the next day, I was laughing at myself. Just lunch, huh? So why had I spent the last hour and a half trying on different outfits.
I could hardly remember what Drew looked like, other than he was lean and dark. But I definitely remembered that zing of electricity when he’d kissed my fingertips. I couldn’t resist the urge to find out if that was a passing reaction—static electricity maybe?—or something more.
I finally settled on a fitted, royal blue jacket and navy slacks from my work wardrobe, with a pale blue V-necked tee that showed some cleavage, and a silky print scarf. Demure, sophisticated, and sexy rolled into one.
I made a point of being a few minutes late. Didn’t want to seem too anxious.
As I approached the table in the small out-of-the-way bistro, Drew stood. I noted the gallant maneuver, already suspecting it was not his normal persona.
“Good to see you, Erica.”
We made small talk as we waited for the waitress to come and take our order. Not wanting to seem gluttonous, I ordered a chef’s salad. My stomach was too full of butterflies to eat much anyway.
Drew was a master conversationalist. He shared little about himself while getting me to talk about my work and my family, or rather my lack thereof now.
As I was starting to feel the grief spreading over me, like a heavy blanket, he changed the subject to something light, made a joke, had me laughing.
Outside the restaurant, he gave me a goodbye peck on the cheek.
I was suddenly reminded of something that had been bothering me. “How did you get my number?”
He grinned. “Brandi.”
I shrugged, but inside I was peeved. She had no right to give out my personal number.
He gave me another peck, lightly on the lips this time. “Hope we can do this again.” Then he turned and walked south on the sidewalk.
A bit befuddled, I climbed into my car parked at the curb and pulled out into traffic, headed north toward home.
My thoughts were still pretty jumbled when I pulled up in front of my townhouse. I walked slowly up the walk, fishing my keys from my purse.
A hand grabbed my elbow and yanked me around. Adrenaline shot through me. My stomach and my knees both turned to jelly.
A shout for help died on my lips.
Drew loomed over me, grinning. His face came down, his lips claiming mine. It wasn’t a tender kiss this time.
My blood went from ice to flowing lava in less than a second. My brain was in turmoil but the predominant thought was How dare he scare me like that? I pulled back a little, a nervous laugh escaping my lips. “Where’d you come from?”
He chuckled. “I decided that chaste peck was insufficient.” With that, he wrapped arms around me and took possession of my mouth again.
And I let him. I tried to tell myself he’d taken me by surprise, as his tongue explored my tonsils and I leaned into him. But I knew damn well that my “bad boy” radar had been vibrating for the last hour and a half. Warning and tantalizing at the same time.
I was working myself up to telling him off, when he abruptly broke the kiss. He nipped my lower lip while reaching inside my coat and copping a quick feel of one breast through jacket and blouse. And then he was trotting down the sidewalk toward the street. “Call you,” he threw back over his shoulder.
I ground my teeth, trying to ignore the heat burning deep inside me.
I blamed Jules, knowing in my heart that was totally unfair. But if he hadn’t gotten me to lower my guard, to consider dating again, stirred my libido with his diligent and expert lovemaking...
.
Fortunately, Jules was still out of town the next day, meeting with the two other owners of his company. I knew if I’d had to face him, he would have seen immediately what an emotional wreck I was.
You have no reason to feel guilty, I kept telling myself. But my self didn’t seem to be listening, at least not the guilt-generating part of me.
Jules called early Sunday evening to chat, while waiting for his flight out of New York.
I managed to get through the initial “hi, how are you’s” without sounding too abnormal. Or at least he didn’t question why my voice was a bit hesitant.
“So what is it you do exactly?” I asked. If you don’t want to reveal too much of what’s going on with you, then get someone talking about themselves. I’d picked that tactic up from Drew.
“We do online marketing.”
“So you’re an ad man?”
A low ch
uckle. “No, we don’t design ad campaigns. But we do a lot of other stuff—set up websites and Facebook pages for businesses, monitor them and post material, do search engine evaluations, advise them when and where to focus their advertising, etc.”
“Oh, so online market analysis?”
“Pretty much. It’s good money and a fair amount of flexibility. I get to work in my sweats at home most of the time.”
“What does Drew do?” The question was out of my mouth before my brain had time to monitor it.
A beat of silence. “Why do you ask?”
“Uh, I think Brandi is still seeing him.”
“Well, theoretically he sells real estate, but mostly he spends his father’s money. Financial security should be the last of Brandi’s worries though. Drew’s a player. She shouldn’t take him too seriously.”
“Got it. I’ll warn her.”
Maybe he’s a better match for me than you are, my inner voice said, since I don’t want to get serious either.
Jules and I chatted for a couple more minutes, then he signed off to board his plane.
.
I got a call from Prudence Parker the next morning at work. “Who?” I said into the receiver, not recognizing the name.
“Pru. We met at Paul’s Valentine party a few weeks ago.”
“Oh yeah, sure. How are you?”
“I’m good. Hey, I’m going to be in Columbia today and wondered if you’d like to have lunch.”
Confusion did battle with mild excitement inside my brain. How does this woman know my work number or that I work in Columbia? the confused part asked. The excited part just wanted to make some friends in town.
“Sure. You wanna meet someplace?”
We picked a spot and a time. “See ya then,” Pru said cheerfully and disconnected.
By the time lunchtime had rolled around, I’d figured out the answers to my questions.
Jules.
He’d seen right through my question about Drew and had recruited Pru to warn me off from him.
“So what time did Jules call you last night?” I said, as soon as we were settled in a booth at Clyde’s restaurant in the center of Columbia.
Pru had the good grace to blush. “Around ten. He’d just gotten in.” She took a sip from the water glass the waitress had deposited in front of her. “He’s concerned. And honestly so am I. Erica, you don’t want to get hooked up with Drew. He’s bad news.”
