Some Like It Hotter

by Isabel Sharpe

  He sighed. A picture rose in his mind of the elegant white tablecloths in the private dining room at La Grenouille Laide, the space full of sleekly elegant couples—Mr. and Mrs. Boyce, some of their best customers, generally older and impeccably styled, the rest of the senior sales team and their dressed-for-success wives, Ames in a tuxedo and Eva, hair in seven or eight ponytails, wearing her usual joyous assortment of colors and styles, maybe those red high-top sneakers she’d worn on one of their dates.

  He pictured himself there without her. The room looked darker without her. Plainer. The joy was gone, the company dull.

  Then he pictured Eva sitting home alone, aware that he’d rejected her, and why.

  My God, he was an ass.

  “There will be two of us.”

  “Thank you.” She sounded totally exasperated. “Does she have a name?”

  “Eva Meyer.” He gave a long, sappy sigh, giddy with happiness, and suddenly wanting to stick it to Delores for being so unpleasant all these years he’d been with the company. “I’m in love with her, Delores. I think she might be the one.”

  Silence. Ames had to work not to crack up.

  “She’s incredible. I mean, really incredible, Delores. I’ve never met anyone like her. But she’s not my usual type, you know? She dresses kind of crazy, piercings and tattoos and stuff, so I hesitated to invite her. But then today I thought, what the eff? I love her—who cares what those stuffy bastards think? Am I right, Delores?”

  He waited, grinning. He’d gone completely off the deep end. Word would get to his boss and his boss would fire him. And guess what? Not having this job wouldn’t be the end of his world.

  “I think you are right, Ames, yes.” Her voice had softened. She sniffed a few times. “My family thought I’d married beneath me. I’ve never regretted the time I had with William, not for a single day. I wish you all the happiness in the world.”

  Ames blinked, stunned and incredibly touched. How many more times would he judge people on first impressions and be proved wrong before he finally learned? “Thank you, Delores. Thank you very much.”

  He hung up the phone, feeling incredibly light. No more wasting time worrying about what his boss and colleagues thought about his choices. If they didn’t like them, there were other jobs, other, younger companies that would be more liberal and accepting.

  Eva had done to him what she’d been doing to NYEspresso—bringing in color and fun, getting rid of sharp edges and straight lines, celebrating a mixture of styles.

  His gaze was drawn abruptly to one bare corner of his apartment. He knew what he had to do.

  But first, he was going to call her.

  * * *

  EVA DRIFTED INTO the living room, walked around its perimeter, which didn’t take long, and back into her bedroom. Did it again. Then flopped onto the bed with a groan of frustration.

  Chris had not reacted well to her declaration. She didn’t trust Ames, didn’t think he was showing signs of taking Eva seriously enough, and had added the cheery note that if they decided to keep dating long-distance, he’d probably dump her for the first supermodel who showed interest. He was a type, and had been raised among people of that type and was programmed to settle down with that type eventually, even if he really enjoyed Eva’s novelty in the meantime.

  Yeah, well, Eva hadn’t wanted to fall in love with Ames. She hadn’t wanted to be in love with anyone. She wanted to grow comfortably old with Zac, who was the most lovely man on the planet but who never made her pale with fear and insecurity and vulnerability. Of course, he never made her tremble with passion, either, but she’d take that over being a basket case.

  Love made you bipolar! Up and down, manic then depressed. She wanted to be steadily, lightly and happily carefree, not bogged down by angst. Look at her: she’d only just admitted to herself that she was falling in love, and she was more depressed than she’d been in years.

  Her phone rang.

  Adrenaline shot through her system. She bounded up from the bed and grabbed her cell.

  Ames! A smile burst onto her face; she wanted to break into a jig.

  See? Crazy! Up and down and up and down. Crazy and exhausting.

  She considered not answering, but that was utterly impossible. She had to hear his voice.

  “Hi, Ames.”

  “Eva.”

  She closed her eyes. His deep voice. Saying her name. Oh, man. “What’s going on?”

  “Just thinking about you.”

  “Nice thoughts?”

  “Very. And I had two questions. One, I would really like you to go with me to the Boyce dinner next week.”

  Eva held her breath. He wanted her there! Even though she looked nothing like Natalie or Chris! Unless...oh, God. Was he about to bring up the salon visit and clothes-shopping trip?

  “That’s not a question.”

  His low chuckle thrilled her. At the same time, she was gripping the phone so hard her fingers were starting to hurt.

  “Eva. Would you please come with me to dinner next week with all my stuffy and boring clients and colleagues and give me some hope of enjoying the evening with your spirit and beauty and insane hairstyles and hummingbird tattoo and wacky clothes on an amazing body that can make mine forget there are any other women in the world?”

  Eva closed her eyes blissfully. Oh, my. What girl could resist that? He might dump her for a supermodel someday, but for now, he was accepting her, loving her exactly as she was. She could barely make her throat open enough to speak. “Yes. I would love to. Thank you, Ames.”

  He exhaled as if he’d been holding his breath, and she decided if this next question was as complicated and overwrought as the first one, she would probably explode.

  “And second, Eva, I want you to eat chicken gumbo with me.”

  She made a dismissive noise. “That’s not a question, either.”

  “Hey, you want to give me a break here?”

  “Is that your question?” She was grinning now, having emerged from the emotional moment into another round of giddiness. They’d crossed another threshold together just now, an important one. Where this would take them was anyone’s guess, but when had she done anything but dive in and find out?

  “I’m trying to ask you to come over and spend the night with me.”

  “Okay.” She did a stupid dance around the room, which took all of about four steps. “Go ahead.”

  “Go ahead what?”

  “Well, duh, ask me the question.” She probably wouldn’t stop smiling for the rest of the night, already thinking of what clothes to bring and how fast she could throw them together.

  “Eva.”

  “Mmm?”

  “Would you like to come over and spend the night with me?”

  “Wow, Ames, that is a question. You’re right!”

  His growl of annoyance was like an aphrodisiac. She couldn’t find it in her to tease him anymore. Not when all she wanted was to rush over there as quickly as possible and into his bed.

  “Yes, please, Ames. There’s nothing else in the world I’d rather do.”

  12

  EVA WIPED DOWN the counter after the latest batch of customers. Slowly but surely, midmorning and midafternoon business had been picking up. A few customers had come in asking about the specials listed on the sidewalk chalkboard. A few customers had even played some games, and with more tables filled it seemed like more people were comfortable stopping in. The Stay Mellow decaf options had been selling well. If Eva had more time here, she’d try out some of her herbal tea blends that had been popular at Slow Pour. And she’d look into nonprofit events coming up in the city and try to become a sponsor, to get NYEspresso’s name out in public.

  Right now the café was half-full, good for a Friday afternoon. Tom and Natalie were giggling like teenagers, engrossed in a fierce bout of Sorry! Eva couldn’t believe the change in both of them. As Natalie threatened, Tom had been taken for a makeover, and while he’d never be George Clooney, he looked consi
derably less dorky—no, he actually looked quite handsome—in stylish clothes that matched and fit, and with a decent haircut and glasses that better fit the shape of his face.

  Eva would be feeling queasier about him being taken in hand like that if Natalie hadn’t also changed because of her romance with him. Outside of client appointments for which she still dressed to kill, Natalie had been wearing less makeup, letting her auburn hair dry to its natural curly state and throwing on comfortable sweaters over jeans. It was as if she didn’t try so hard to impress, as if she felt more comfortable in herself, now that Tom was adoring her for herself instead of just what she looked like.

  Eva had been thinking about that a lot. Tonight was the Boyce Wines dinner at La Grenouille Laide. A few weeks ago, every piece of her soul would have rebelled at the idea of catering to smug rich people by dressing in any way that didn’t express who she was.

  Now she was starting to wonder how much of her true self was really encapsulated in her clothing. Was dressing semioutrageously all that important? Did she have the right to cause ripples in Ames’s world by making a loud statement all about herself? Couldn’t she still be Eva Meyer while respecting the company she kept? By respecting Ames enough to play nice with people important to his future? For one night?

  Heavy questions. She’d gone shopping the day before and found a little black dress, clingy and plain, but with a playful ruffle and bit of lace here and there, funky enough to suit her but still giving off the impression of cool sophistication. She’d put her hair up in a French twist and added a black fascinator with silver leaves and delicate feathers she’d pounced on in a vintage clothing shop. One set of earrings, one simple silver locket of her grandmother’s around her neck.

  The dress looked great on her. She should be proud to wear it as Ames’s date, and she would be. But the odd thing was, now that she’d ensured she’d blend in with the crowd, the dinner party intimidated her even more. Which made her wonder if the way she dressed hadn’t been so much an expression of her true self, her creativity and nonconformity, as a strong visual statement of who she wanted to be, something she could hide behind. Tonight, dressed like everyone else, she imagined she’d feel totally naked.

  Right now she felt great. To offset the supreme sacrifice of planning to wear mainstream clothing, that morning she’d put on her zebra-striped tights and a rainbow polka-dot shirt over silver platform sandals. Her hair was arranged in a sloppy pile on her head, decorated with tiny clip-on stuffed animals, puppies and kittens and baby seals. Of her four pairs of earrings, two reached past her shoulders, and she’d counted out fifteen bracelets.

  She might be conforming tonight, but when she showed up at Ames’s apartment after work, he wouldn’t forget that she was still going to be this kind of girl sometimes.

  Four o’clock finally came—she didn’t know if she’d been anticipating or dreading it more—and Eva was on her way. By the time she made it to Ames’s building, she was, admittedly, a wreck. She wasn’t much of a drinker, but it might not be a bad idea to have a shot of something before they arrived at the dinner. A fifth of courage.

  “Hey, Frank.” She beamed at the doorman.

  “Well, don’t you look colorful today? I’m cheered up just looking at you.” His grin was sincere, and Eva smiled back warmly.

  “Thanks, Frank.” She still thought having a guard for a building was odd, and missed being able just to walk into friends’ houses in California without all the security, but she liked Frank, and liked that she was expected and cleared through now, without having to bluff her way in or rely on Jean.

  “He’s expecting you.”

  “Thanks.” She went into the elevator and punched the button for the sixth floor, fidgeting. What if she said something awful tonight? What if she offended everyone every time she opened her mouth, and they sat in a circle around her pointing and laughing? What if they fired Ames and tied her up in the alley until she stopped—

  Okay, okay. That was silly. But she was crazy nervous. She wanted to call Chris. She wanted to talk to Zac. She wanted to wander down to Aura Beach, sit in the sand and watch the sun set over the Pacific without a care in the world.

  Easy. Safe.

  Ames opened the door after her first knock. Frank must have called him after all. Or had he been waiting? He was probably nervous, too. Wondering if she’d chosen an outfit for the party that would fit on an avant-garde movie set.

  “Hello.” He grinned, eyes traveling up and down her crazy outfit before he drew her close and kissed her. “Running away to join the circus?”

  “Oh, no!” She pretended dismay. “I picked this out for tonight—you don’t like it?”

  He kissed her again. “If you didn’t have a garment bag over your shoulder, I’d be panicking.”

  “Wait until you see what’s in here!” She held the bag up threateningly.

  He lifted his hands. “Eva. I’m ready. Whatever you want to wear is fine with me. They will just have to get over themselves.”

  Oh, gosh. A guy like that could make her seriously crazy about him.

  Wait, she already was.

  “You—” she laid a hand on his cheek “—are wonderful.”

  “You—” he laid a hand on her bottom “—are hot.”

  “Hmm, maybe you think so.” She pushed a finger into his chest. “But not nearly as hot as you are.”

  “Oh, yeah?” He was grinning, and she was grinning right back at him. The atmosphere was electric, as if they both had energy shooting out of their pores and filling the air. Two nervous people...

  “Let’s settle this.” She hung the garment bag in his coat closet and turned to face him, grabbing the hem of her shirt. “Take off your clothes.”

  “Fine.” He yanked off his T-shirt, exposing that chest that made her heat up like a radiator. “I will.”

  She unhooked her bra, threw it behind him. He kicked off his shoes, yanked off his socks.

  She did the same.

  They got out of their pants and underwear in record time and stood looking each other over critically, hands on their hips.

  “No. No.” Eva pointed to his torso. “See, you’re hotter. Look at that—that is truly spectacular. Broad, muscular shoulders, flat stomach with superb definition—”

  “Strong, slender arms.” He pointed to her body. “Round breasts that make men want to weep. Narrow waist—”

  “Fabulous ass.”

  He pointed lower. “Very sexy woman parts.”

  “Extremely erotic man parts.”

  “Nice legs.”

  “Nice legs.”

  Their arms lowered, they stood beaming like fools.

  “It’s a tie.” Without warning, Eva took a running leap and launched herself at him. He caught her with a shout of laughter, staggering back into the living room, turning to keep his balance. He ended up losing it anyway, twisting to fall so he caught the brunt and she was on top of him, her hair a loose mess, animals scattered everywhere

  Perfect. “Hello.”

  “Eva.” He was slightly out of breath. “Do you ever do anything anyone expects you to?”

  “Why, yes, Mr. Cooke.” She wiggled suggestively, bracing her knees on the rug. “For example, I’m about to fulfill all your expectations right now.”

  “Ah. Well, that’s good, actually. That’s just fine.”

  “You’re sure?” She stretched his wrists over his head and leaned on them to keep him immobile, teasing his rapidly hardening penis, loving the warm feel of it rubbing against her clitoris. “Are we allowed to do something this naughty before we mingle with the highbrow?”

  “Oh. Yes.” His eyes started bugging out a little as she continued to move.

  “Do we have time?”

  “Yes. We. Do.” He moved up, his erection trying to find a way in. “Plenty. Lots. Tons. Really.”

  “Okay, then.” She rocked back and forth, not letting him inside her yet. “Ames.”

  “Ungh.” His caveman grunt made he
r smile.

  “I’m nervous about tonight.”

  He opened his eyes, stared into hers briefly, then heaved his body and rolled them over so she was underneath, her wrists pinned over her head. “I’m nervous, too, Eva.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” He began to move, rubbing his cock over her sex without entering—a taste of her own medicine.

  Her own medicine was, frankly, fantastic.

  “Nervous because of me and how I might act?”

  “No.” He stopped moving. “No, not that at all.”

  Something relaxed and sweetened inside her. “Okay.”

  “I’m nervous because if you don’t have a good time I will feel responsible.” He was looking down at her with deep tenderness; she nearly wanted to cry. “And I will feel terrible.”

  “Ames,” she whispered.

  “I don’t want either of us to feel terrible.” He began to move again, making her body leap back into arousal. “I want us always to feel as good as we do right now, naked and rubbing all over each other with possible heaven just around the corner.”

  Eva giggled. “Greedy.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so.” She gathered her strength and twisted to one side, bucking him off, then used the momentum to push him the rest of the way onto his back so she could sit astride him. “I’m nervous because you delayed inviting me. Which is fine, I understand, but obviously this is a big deal and you had questions about how I would fit in. Frankly, so do I.”

  She held his beautiful brown gaze, wanting him to be straight with her, even if it was really hard.

  “I did.” He returned her gaze calmly. “I couldn’t picture you there. I thought you’d be uncomfortable, but I also I thought I would be. I’m not proud of that now, but it’s the truth.”

  She nodded, touched by his sincerity. “What changed?”

  He smiled, pressing his hand briefly against her cheek. “I was focusing on the wrong thing. As hard as it was at the beginning to imagine us there together, I reached a place where I simply couldn’t imagine going without you.”

  “Thank you.” Tears threatened her eyes, clogged the back of her throat. Hadn’t she told her sister she was falling in love with Ames? If falling was a process, this was the end point. She loved him. He was noble and sweet and willing to escort her to this event tonight fully expecting she’d mortify him, and he planned not to care. How could she not love him?