“Nice. Did you get assigned a young male intern who hangs on your every word?”
I laugh. “That would’ve been funny. Not to mention awkward. No, the woman’s name is Tammy. She’s an experienced office worker. Has a good head on her shoulders. I like her. What are you up to?”
“Working on the walls in my apartment. It’s a dirty job. Drywall dust is everywhere.” He sounds happy. Not like the tired man who worked a corporate job late into the night a couple weeks ago.
“Are you dropping hints that you’ll need to sleep at my place tonight?” I know he has several empty apartments being renovated, in a pinch he could sleep in any of them, but I like teasing him.
His voice drops to a seductive whisper. “I promise to make it worth your while.”
I squirm in my seat, all too aware of what his heated rasp feels like against my skin. “Oh really?” I tease. “I’m not so sure I believe you.” A quick glance reveals my office door is shut. “How exactly will you do that?”
“Naughty girl. You want me to tell you?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I think I’ll start with a shoulder massage…” His voice drops an octave. “And then when you’re good and relaxed, I’ll roll you over and pin your arms over your head…”
My mouth becomes dry while I picture his scenario. I audibly swallow, eager for him to continue. “Yes…?”
His answering chuckle raises the hairs on my arm. “Well now… you’ll just have to wait and see.”
I’m giddy when we end the call a few minutes later. Giddy as in you’re-acting-like-a-teenager-you-freakin’-idiot. I’m falling for him. Hard. What the hell am I going to do if he doesn’t feel the same way?
Chapter Two
Tony
I slip my cell into the back pocket of my work jeans and try to calm my racing thoughts. Cock ring? A tingle of awareness slides over me, settling in the base of my shaft. How would it feel? What prompted her to buy it? One thing that woman’s not is boring.
Sure, she looks and sometimes acts like a shy little thing, but when she lets out that inner sex kitten—watch out! A smile curves my lips as I reach down to adjust the growing hard-on in my pants. Would it make me last longer? It’s not like I’m a quick shooter, but I’m curious. Would it hurt?
Down, boy!
Jesus, I’ve got it bad.
I return my attention to the job, determined to push the sexual thoughts from my mind. My only recourse would be to jack-off and I’d rather save my excitement for Heather.
Let’s see… where was I? Oh yeah, mudding the drywall tape. This part is so tedious. Best to focus on why I’m doing it. I’m doing it for her. It’ll be the best photography studio any budding shutter-bug could hope for.
Large windows to the left allow for excellent morning light—perfect for an artist to work in. Once I get paint on the walls and the flooring finished, I’ll be able to set up the high-end computer, professional printer, movable backdrop, and lighting equipment.
I can’t wait to spring the surprise on Heather. And hey, if it leads to her spending lots of time here then that means it’s a job well done.
Now I’ll just have to take care of her transportation issue to and from the city. Does she even have a driver’s license? So many people living in the city don’t even know how to drive. I wonder if she’d like a convertible? My youngest brother Gino owns a BMW dealership in Paramus. I’ll have to call him and see what he’s got on the lot that might suit her.
I can almost hear my best friend Marcus in my head. Dude, you bought her a car?
Screw it. Maybe I just won’t tell him. What’s the point of having all this money if I can’t do what the hell I want with it? The old anxiety I used to feel over not having enough money tries to rear its ugly head. But I squash it like the useless lie it is. My mom is happy in her small stone cottage in Upper Montclair and Gino is successful on his own.
They don’t need me to protect them anymore and I can finally pursue my own dreams. Dreams I hope will include Heather.
What are you waiting for? Just do it, fool.
Impulsively, I pull my phone back out and dial my little brother.
“Aaannn-thooo-Neee!” He drags out my name like we used to as boys growing up in Jersey City. A smile instantly curves my lips. “Great to hear from you,” he continues. “What are you up to?”
“Geee-Nooo,” I reply in kind. “Shopping for a car. Can you hook me up?”
“Is something wrong with the 750Li you bought last year?”
“Nah, it’s good. Just need another car.”
“You have four. How many can one guy drive?”
“Technically I don’t have four cars. One is a pickup truck for the reno projects and another is an SUV for winter.”
“Semantics, Ton. But hey, it’s your money. You want another vehicle, I’ll hook you up.”
“This one isn’t really for me.”
“Oh? Who’s it for? Mom is fine in the car I gave her last year.”
I hesitate. What do I call Heather? “Girlfriend” doesn’t seem to cover it and “lover” sounds like some crappy line out of a chick flick. “I’m seeing a woman who lives car-less in Manhattan. I’d like her to be able to drive out to my place more easily.”
“Your place? Don’t you live in those fancy digs Apollo owns near the park?”
Shit. I haven’t told my brothers or Mom about my new employment status. Should have thought this out better before I called. Lust will do that to you, idiot.
“I… uh… resigned last week. It was time. I needed a change.”
“Holy shit! That’s some change.” A hint of worry enters my brother’s tone. “What are you doing now?”
“I’m working on my buildings in Hoboken. Getting new units ready for renters. Hiring contractors, doing some work myself. And before you open your mouth and judge—I’m liking it. A lot.”
“Why would I judge you? You’ve got more money in the bank than anyone I know. It’s about time you slow down—enjoy life before you’re old and feeble.”
I choke on my laughter. “Thanks. Marcus gave me shit and I guess I didn’t want to hear more from you.”
“Marcus is a pansy pretty-boy. Tell him he can kiss my hard-working ass. Or better yet, I’ll tell him myself when we meet up for poker.”
“Yeah, hard-working in your air-conditioned luxury car dealership.” He knows I’m teasing. I may have lent him the initial money to start the place four years ago, but he paid the funds back within a year.
“Okay, back to the woman. A car is pretty freakin’ huge as far as gifts go. Does Mom or Vinnie know? Are you going to introduce her to the family?”
“No, they don’t.” I side-step his last question. It’s too soon for introductions to my two brothers and our mom. “I might just tell her it’s an extra of mine and she can use it when she needs to.”
“Uh-huh. Because then it won’t be such a big deal that you’re buying a woman a car? Come on, Tony. Buying a car is more expensive than an engagement ring. You should really let her meet Mom if you’re thinking along those lines.”
“Hey, I didn’t call for relationship advice. Shove it.”
“Ah, there’s the domineering brother I know and love. All right then, for the car, what were you thinking—sporty or economical?”
“If I was thinking of an economy car would I be calling you?” Before he can shoot off a retort I continue, “Sporty. But she’s not a flashy person. No red.”
“How about a Z4 or a 640i convertible?”
“Which is better for all weather driving? I want her in something safe.”
“They’re all safe, idiot. BMW doesn’t make shitty cars. But, the 640i will be better in the winter.”
We haggle some more about color and features, stressing I’d like a demo model so it has a few thousand miles on it, and then end the call after the details have been hammered out. Gino will have the car delivered to my place by Wednesday. I wonder if I should just give it to her or
tell her I’d like her to use it whenever she’d like? I’ve never given a car to a woman before, I don’t know how she’ll react.
Whatever. As long as she’s happy, I’m happy.
Can life really be as simple as that? Yes—right now I think the answer is a definite yes.
I pick up the trowel and start on the third layer of mud on the drywall seams. At this rate, I should be able to apply a primer coat of paint tomorrow. The steady work over the next hour leaves me calm and clear-headed, filled with a different sense of satisfaction I never found at Apollo. It’s as if the physical jobs invoke a visceral reaction, a deep-seated need to accomplish a task with results you can see.
Around two I clean up and leave for the city. I grab an overnight bag with a few things for later, hoping to store the items at Heather’s, and toss it in the back of my car.
Rather presumptuous to assume you can keep a toothbrush there, isn’t it?
He who takes risks, gets laid. Or something like that.
Smile firmly in place over my wittiness, I rev the engine and pull out of the garage, eager to be closer to Heather. Maybe I should surprise her at her house later with dinner? Show her I have some domestic talents as well. But damn, how am I going to get in? I wonder if she’d be willing to give me a key. It would certainly be more convenient, but she might not be ready for that step yet.
I use the voice activated system in my car to send her a text message. “Text Heather Pierce’s cell.”
The female mechanical voice in my car answers, “Ready for text.”
“I’d like to make you dinner tonight at your place, period. Can you arrange for the building manager to let me in, question mark.” There was a learning curve associated with speaking the punctuation, but I love the voice activated texting. I think it works better in my car for some reason, too. I never seem to have the same issues with misheard words as when I try to use the voice to text option outside of the car.
The car repeats my message and I tell it to send. I’ll check later to see if she responds. A few miles down the road, my cell rings via the car’s audio system. Not even bothering to check caller ID on the dash screen, I hit the answer button on the steering wheel.
“Hello?” I try to keep my voice calm instead of sounding too eager with the hope it may be Heather.
“Tony? It’s Portia. How are you, honey?”
The smile and good mood slides away. She’s the clingy socialite I dated a few weeks. Our fling ended weeks before meeting Heather. “Fine. Why are you calling?”
“Terse and to the point. Just like I remember.” She sighs dramatically.
Christ, this woman drives me bonkers. What the hell did I see in her?
Long legs and the ability to suck the chrome off a bumper?
Yeah, that must have been it.
“Look, honey,” she says. “We need to talk.”
My teeth grind together in frustration. “Isn’t that what we’re doing?”
“In person, sugar. I have news I need to share.”
I’m not falling for some ploy to have her sink her claws back into me. Her parents have a tight leash on her trust fund due to her outrageous spending habits. I got the hell away from her as fast as I could.
“Spill it, Portia. I’m not playing your games.”
“No games this time, Tony. Fine.” She sighs. “I wanted to do this in person. But you’ve left me no choice.” There’s silence on the line, like she’s gathering herself. “I-I’m pregnant… and the baby is yours.”
My heart pounds in my chest and my knee-jerk reaction almost punches the gas pedal. I swerve onto the shoulder and slam the car into park. “No fucking way. We used protection.”
“Darling, didn’t you know? Condoms are only effective ninety-seven percent of the time.”
Our relationship may not have lasted long, but I thought I knew this woman. Sure, she’s a money-hungry harpy—but apparently she also has no morals if she’s willing to try a stunt like this. If she slept with me so easily how can I be sure she wasn’t so free with her affections to others?
“I’m calling bullshit. There’s no way that baby is mine.”
“Well then, we’ll just have to see. Because I fully intend to sue you for child support. Suck on that, you arrogant bastard.”
The phone goes dead in the car speaker and all I hear is the pounding of my heart as my happy world crashes around me.
Chapter Three
Heather
My pulse increases as the elevator ascends. Anticipation over seeing Tony waiting for me in my apartment acts like an aphrodisiac and a mild stomach-churner. I’m not sure if I’m going to throw up or kiss him senseless when I see him.
Puking on him would be really uncool.
Yeah, to say the least. I take a deep breath and try to calm down. I can do this. I can act normal when I see him. After all, it was his suggestion. It’s not like I asked him to come over and cook for me. I called the building manager after my meeting and asked for a copy of the key to be given to Tony when he stopped by. It felt exciting to call him my boyfriend, but the staff member didn’t react to the request or wording either way, just reminded me to stop in and sign for it later.
I had a hard time keeping the smile off my face when I finished, practically skipping to the elevator. We haven’t actually talked about him moving in or anything, and he isn’t, not really. This is just a way for him to come and go easier while I’m at work. A niggling worry in the back of my mind that we might be moving too fast attempts to break into my happiness, but I quickly stifle it.
I’m going to try my best to “live in the moment,” as Katrina said after yoga on Sunday. She smiled when I briefly relayed my current status with Tony, thrilled I’d finally found someone who made me happy. She quickly followed with, “Hey, does he have any good-looking single friends who aren’t gay?” Since the only one I’d met so far is Marcus and I had no idea if he was single or straight, I told her I’d find out.
The elevator doors open and I step off, butterflies beating against the walls of my bubbling stomach. We’ve been together less than a month, do I really have the right to ask about setting his friends up with mine? When is too soon for that kind of thing? I walk down the hall, shaking my head over my insane train of thought—I should probably wait a bit. And I’m sure Carla would be über pissed if I didn’t find her a hot friend first. Although, at the rate she goes through men she probably wouldn’t notice.
I arrive at my door and take a deep breath, sliding my key in the lock. Now or never. Go for relaxed and not too eager.
The door opens and the smells of simmering tomato sauce and garlic reach me. Oh. My. God. He’s actually cooking for me. I may become a babbling idiot in ten seconds.
“Hi,” I squeeze out past my constricting throat. No guy has ever cooked for me. This is beyond epic!
“Hey!” Tony’s hearty voice floats to me from deeper in my apartment. “I’m in the kitchen.”
I toss my bags and light coat on a chair and stand locked in place, unsure if I should rush in and exclaim over his efforts or act like it doesn’t faze me. Before I decide, his large frame fills the entrance between the island counter and wall. A tight dark blue t-shirt spans his chest and a pair of well-worn jeans hugs his hips. His dark hair is slightly mussed and his piercing light brown eyes scan me from head to foot.
My mouth dries, the playful banter I used earlier on the phone deserting me now.
“Well hello, darling.” His mouth turns up at the corners, but his eyes look distant, slightly preoccupied. Could he have had issues at Apollo when he went in? His forehead is creased, like he has something on his mind. He visibly relaxes as he leans against the counter. “How was your day?”
Instead of answering I step forward and kiss his delectable lips, determined to chase away my own self-doubts and any lingering shadows I see in him. My tongue ventures forward, shyly tracing the edges of his partially open lips. Strong arms snake around me, crushing me to the broad chest I a
dmired a few seconds ago.
“You smell incredible,” he whispers before deepening the kiss, bringing the sweet taste of the tomato sauce with him. Basil, oregano, and onion war with the unmistakable flavor that’s all Tony. One warm hand leaves my back to stroke down my hair. I twine my own arms around his neck, running a hand through his hair, holding back the urge to hitch my leg around his waist and grind myself against his hips.
My God, one home cooked meal and I’m a wanton hussy. Strangely, I’m okay with that.
After a long intense minute, where I feel Tony’s arousal grow to prod my stomach, he breaks our kiss. A tiny whimper of want escapes me.
He rests his forehead against mine, easing back a few inches. “That was some hello kiss.”
“I’ve never had a man cook for me before.” I smile, hoping I don’t sound as stupid and lame as I fear. “It… uh… brought out some interesting reactions.”
Tony’s low chuckle sounds very male and self-assured. “That’s an understatement.” He winks. “I’ll be sure to cook for you more often.” He steps back and returns to the kitchen, leaving me bereft of his warmth and affection. “Are you hungry?”
Yeah, I’m hungry to jump his bones. Since when does the guy think about food and the girl think about sex? I follow him in, curious to see what he’s made. “I can eat whenever. Smells good. What did you make us?”
He picks up a spoon and stirs what’s in the saucepan. “Nothing too fancy, don’t be too impressed.” He replaces the spoon, puts on the lid, and turns off the flame, his brow furrowing as he looks at the stove. “Just gravy with meat I’ll serve over pasta. I’ll put the water on to boil in a minute.”
“Gravy?” I ask.
He shrugs. “It’s an Italian thing. Gravy, red sauce… same thing.”
The kitchen is spotless. He not only made the meal, he cleaned up as he cooked. Unreal. Maybe this is what happens when a guy has been a bachelor for a while. They learn to cook and clean? I think my panties are becoming wet over his domestic prowess.
Vanilla Twist: A Walk on the Wild Side Novel (Heather and Tony, Book 2) Page 2
