I wrap my arms around him and sigh. “I think you’re right.”
After we eat languidly and shower, we cuddle naked in his big bed. Unbidden, my earlier encounter with Jimmy surfaces. I relay the incident to Tony, hoping for his opinion on what to do.
“I’m not really good at this kind of thing. Guys tend to punch when an asshole deserves it. But I realize that’s not a viable course in the workplace.” He runs a hand through his hair, deep in thought. “I could come by and put the fear of God into him if you’d like.”
“No. Thanks.” The idea of a new lover confronting an old one almost sends me into a panic attack. “I’d like to handle this professionally, but don’t want to come across as weak to my bosses.”
Tony shrugs. “Complaining of harassment of any kind in the workplace isn’t an indication of weakness. This is work we’re talking about. You need to be able to function free of intimidation.”
I sigh, and reach for my wine glass on a nearby tray. “You’re right. I know it. I just didn’t want to call attention to myself right away.” The glass is empty, eliciting another sigh, this one of frustration.
Tony grabs the glass and his own. “No worries, mine needs a refill, too.” He leaves the room, naked as the day he was born and uncaring of his disrobed state.
Then again, if I had his body I’d probably do the same thing.
Tony’s phone vibrates on his nightstand. I lean over and look at the screen, checking to see if it’s an Apollo number and if I should call him back to answer it. The name Portia and a number appears, but no picture. I don’t recognize her name from the people Tony has mentioned at his old job, so I leave it be.
I settle back against the pillows, unable to completely let the call go despite my best intentions. Who is this woman that she’d phone late on a Friday night expecting Tony to answer? Could she be an old conquest looking for a booty call? I know he dated a lot of women before me, that was never something he could have hidden even if he tried. His picture was plastered all over the society pages way too often in the past five years.
Tabloid dramas aside, should I be worried? After this evening, my gut says no. There’s no way all he’s done for me could be anything similar to what he’s done in the past for ex-girlfriends. He’s complained they were often after his money, angled for diamonds, or badgered him for expensive getaways. So far nothing we’ve shared has been like that. And I’ve never asked for a thing from him.
Tony returns with our drinks in one hand and a small plate holding four chocolate covered strawberries in the other. Awww… so sweet. I think after he and I enjoyed them on our first date they will always be my favorite. He sets my drink on the nightstand closest to me and climbs back on the bed.
Say something! Tell him about the call. Let him explain.
My heart clenches in my chest. What if this woman does matter? Do I really want to hear about it tonight after all we’ve shared? I push the thoughts away and smile, determined to enjoy the effort he’s made with the dessert.
“I don’t think I’ll ever look at a strawberry again without thinking of you and that picnic in your living room.”
A blush heats my cheeks as I recall my bold and daring commands of that night. The Heather of today is a mixed version of her and the real me. More confident, yes, and ready to experiment, without a doubt. I’m growing each day, despite this new twist with Jimmy at Parkerson. I’m a stronger me—ready for a stronger man in my life. And that man is Tony.
Decision made, I refrain from informing him his phone rang when he was in the kitchen.
I need to trust him as much as he’s trusted me. I know my heart is safe with Tony.
Late Saturday morning Tony nudges me out of bed.
“Come on… let’s do a little shopping.”
I reluctantly allow him to pull me into the shower, I was perfectly content to stay naked all darn day. Intrigued by the offer to shop, which most guys hate, I somehow manage to resist the soapy temptation to make love again under the warm spray. Damn, that man can be persuasive when he wants to be.
I dress in my clothes from yesterday, feeling slightly awkward to be in work clothes on the weekend. But hey, he did offer shopping so perhaps I can pick up something casual at a store nearby. I bet I could rock these shoes with a pair of jeans. We ride the elevator down and Tony draws the keys from his pocket, jingling them in one hand. Once we step outside he presses a button on the remote and an alarm sounds in the convertible I admired yesterday, still parked at the curb.
“New car?” I ask.
“Not quite. Has close to seven thousand miles on it.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Exactly how many cars do you have?”
Tony shrugs a shoulder. “Why does that matter? My little brother sells cars. I like to support him.” Brushing it off like it’s nothing to own multiple vehicles, he offers me the keys. “Feel like driving? Someone wore me out last night and this morning.”
“Ha! You’re the one who offered to go shopping, not me.” I smile and look over the shiny blue car. It sure is pretty. “And if I recall right, you weren’t complaining last night or this morning, mister.”
He dangles the fob from one finger, tempting me with the BMW dealership emblem catching the light. “Sure as hell I wasn’t. That would be just plain stupid. And let me clarify my shopping offer so I don’t lose my man-card: Lowes and grocery shopping.”
I give in to the offer to drive his luxury vehicle, snatching the keys from his finger. “I knew there had to be a catch. No guy spontaneously offers to go clothes shopping with a woman.”
He leans in to draw me closer. “That depends. Are we talking lingerie shopping? If yes, then I can be very spontaneous.” A memory flits over his face. “Or shoes.” His hands slide down my back to rest on my skirt-covered bottom. “I do like shopping for shoes with you.”
I laugh, wiggling free from his grasp and walk to the driver’s side door. “In case you’ve failed to notice, I do need a change of clothes.” I open the door and slide inside. In a moment he joins me. “And since I’m driving, I say we stop for jeans first.”
He smiles at me indulgently as I start the car. “You’re the boss, babe. Whatever you want.”
Chapter Ten
Tony
We spent the rest of the day together and all Saturday night. Cooking, laughing, and falling into each other’s arms whenever the urge hit. The new jeans Heather picked hugged her sweet little ass, making it hard to keep my hands off her.
She was a good sport in the home improvement store, taking the time to let me choose the cabinetry for my next project, a home office. Very subtly, I’d get her opinion on colors and finishes, hoping to have her contribute a little to the space I’m creating. It might eventually make her more comfortable at my place and lead to more time here. Well, the photo studio will probably be the best enticement to that end.
On Sunday she went home to attend a yoga class with Carla and Katrina, who is another friend I met briefly at the bar a few weeks ago. It was the easiest thing in the world to pretend the car service wasn’t available ’til much later and offer for her to take the blue convertible.
She grumbled about finding parking until I gave her the address of a garage a block from her building, not adding I’d recently secured a prime spot for her just two days ago. Having a car in the city can be expensive, but giving her the means to visit me in Jersey whenever she wants is more important to me than the cost.
I ignored my cell all weekend—which is now dead—uncaring if an emergency from Apollo crept up or not. They need to get used to solving shit on their own regarding the deals I’ve left behind. It felt nice to completely disconnect for a change. Besides, my family has the number to the landline if anything major happened with someone.
How will Heather react to my loud relatives? The last time I saw them was Easter dinner at my Aunt Rosa’s, which means we’re due for a get-together soon. Should I talk to her about meeting my mom and brothers first? Wonder if either
cheeky bastard is seeing a girl right now. Might help divert attention off me and Heather if one of them brought someone, too.
Is meeting them too soon? Will she like being involved with a loud, overbearing Italian family? She’s an only child and she told me her folks died in a car accident. No mention of any cousins. I’ll have to ask.
I shake my head as I plug in my cell to charge. Christ. Me—worrying about introducing a girl to my immediate family. What’s next, picking out china patterns? I shudder at the domestic thought.
After a minute the phone has enough charge and the unit powers on. Immediately it pings with voice mail and text notifications. I settle onto the couch and check the texts first, unwilling to let my Sunday good mood become spoiled with old work issues left via voice mail.
First one is a group message to me, Gino, and my other brother Vinnie, from Marcus yesterday: We on for poker tomorrow? If yes, when and where?
Gino responded with, Yeah, I’m in. Tony’s turn to host. I’ll text the others. Meet at 6?
Shit. I forgot all about the rotating poker game. I don’t always make it anyway, usually working on my building or in the office. Or partying in Vegas with your latest conquest. I cringe at the accuracy of the statement when applied to last month and every month before that. Man whore. Yup. It fit all right.
Not anymore though. Turned over a new leaf with Heather. And she’s worth it. Dark-eyed temptress with legs that never end and a mouth that never quits. Good thing we didn’t make any plans for later, or I’d be scrambling to appease the guys when I bowed out.
I can hear Marcus’s snarky voice in my head if I had tried to cancel due to a woman. “‘Hos before bros? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Love is a tricky beast. I want to spend every waking moment with her, preferably wrapped in her arms with my cock buried deep inside her welcoming heat. But at the same time, I’m cognizant that the intense feelings could be one-sided and forcing myself on her too much could scare her away.
She’s got the car. It’s not like I won’t see her again soon. She smilingly complained her muscles were sore from our nocturnal activities. Thanks to those aching muscles, she’s going to be thinking about me even if I’m not right up in her face twenty-four seven. Time to chill and relax a little bit. Perhaps up the slow seduction with a lavish evening out to a play or show this week.
I text back to the guys that we’re on for tonight and I’ll order pizza. Next I open my laptop and search for what’s playing in the theater district. It’s possible to go to a show during the week and not stay out too late. Besides, a smile curves my lips at the idea, she might invite me to stay over at her place if it’s late enough.
Finally, unable to put it off any longer, I check my voice mail messages. There are three from Portia. Each one growing in intensity, her desperation clear in the last voice mail.
“Please, Tony. I know I’ve been a bitch. Your lawyer has already contacted me. I get it. You don’t want this baby with me. But we really need to talk. I’m torn on what to do… about the baby.”
That sounds ominous. Like she’s debating doing something drastic, like terminating the pregnancy. Considering I don’t even know if the baby, assuming there really is one, is mine, I’m not sure what I should be doing or saying to influence her. It’s her body, and ultimately her decision.
Guilt and responsibility weighing heavily on my heart, I return her call.
She answers right away. “Tony! I’m so glad you called. How are you doing?”
“Cut the small talk, Portia. I got your messages.” I sigh, running a hand through my hair in frustration. “Fine. We’ll talk in person.”
“Great. I’ll meet you for lunch tomorrow. Lobby of my parent’s office building? Then we can go wherever you’d like.”
She’s being way too accommodating, which has me worried.
“Yeah, that’s fine. See you then.” I end the call, bile churning in my stomach.
More than anything I want this mess over and done with. I hate keeping it from Heather. Maybe I need to come clean sooner rather than later to make sure this doesn’t bite me in the ass. It’ll be weeks before a DNA test can be performed, and there’s no way I want secrets between us for that long. They could easily fester and get blown way out of proportion.
You may be the father of another woman’s unborn child. Don’t you think that’s beyond festering and overreacting?
I drop my head back on the couch, tension and unease forming a tight band across my forehead.
Damn it. I’ve got to tell her.
“Call,” Tommy says, tossing two more chips into the middle. “Let’s see what you’ve got, you dago bastard.” Tommy works with Gino at the dealership, has for years. Not sure if he’s still in sales or does something else now. He chugs the last of his beer, a rosy glow to his ruddy complexion. It clashes nicely with his short red hair.
Gino laughs at his buddy’s bigoted slam while placing his winning hand on the dining room table. “Three tens. Read ‘em and weep, you drunken mick.”
Marcus nudges me with his elbow, prompting me to reveal my hand, too. “Wake up, man.” He glances at his watch. “It’s not that late.”
I toss my losing cards on the table. After two nights in a row with little sleep and an unwelcome lunch date to look forward to tomorrow, it’s safe to say my mind isn’t on cards.
The sound from the baseball game blasting in the living room increases, the crowd reacting to a recent play.
“Did you see that?” Hank shouts. He’s Tommy’s ex-roommate from college. From what Gino tells me, both guys are single and slobs — having no idea their bad habits are why they’re still single. It’ll take a miracle for them to change. “Haven’t seen Jeter hustle with any spirit since last season.”
Tommy rises for a fresh beer, nodding toward my empty bottle to see if I want another. I nod back. “Thanks.”
“What’s eating you, man?” Marcus asks me. “I venture all the way out here to your slum in Hoboken.” At my darkening look he hastily adds, “Which, I will concede, is much nicer than I anticipated. You showed me around. I oo’d and ahh’d at all the appropriate times regarding your construction prowess—so what gives? Why are you so quiet? Trouble in paradise?”
I shoot him a shut-the-fuck-up look, which he ignores.
He wiggles his eyebrows. “Portia giving you a hard time?”
Marcus smiles at my glower, knowing full well I’d like to kick his ass for bringing up her name in front of these guys.
Gino gathers up the cards to shuffle for another round. “I thought the girl you’re dating was named Heather. Who’s this Portia chick?”
Vinnie, my middle brother, is in the kitchen, whipping up some munchies with whatever he can find. “Hold on now. Did I just hear you right? Big brother has a steady girl and no one thought to tell me? What the fuck is up with that?”
I resist punching Marcus, but it’s a close call. “Yes, on dating Heather. No on dating Portia.”
Vinnie laughs from the island, a big knife in one hand. “Classic! Wait ’til Mom hears about this. You are going to bring her by for Sunday dinner next week, right? Better do it quick before Aunt Rosa finds out and beats Mom to a big family event you’d have to attend—with a date.”
Tommy strolls in with our beers, setting mine down and then taking his seat. “Isn’t Portia the one you took to Vegas like two months ago? Hank, wasn’t she the girl on the jet who offered to blow you in the bathroom?”
Hank sputters into his beer, a look of outrage on his face. “Damn, asshole. Why’d you have to bring that up? She was drunk and didn’t mean it. I told her no and steered her back to her seat.”
Unsurprised at the revelation, after all, she was a party girl, I ask, “And where was I when this happened?”
Gino deals the next hand, watching each of us for signs the interchange could turn physical. We’ve known each other for years, it sure as hell wouldn’t be the first time.
Geez. What a joke. Li
ke I’d lift a finger to defend a woman who’s angling to squeeze me for millions.
“You were asleep in the back bedroom,” Tommy answers. “Complained of an early morning meeting if I’m recalling right.”
“Yeah, I remember now. That was Portia. She’s a real piece of work. The Vegas trip was our last weekend together.”
“And?” Gino prompts. “Why would she be giving you a hard time now? You broke up a while ago.”
I glare at Marcus, wishing I really could punch him hard for opening his big mouth. Maybe when the others leave I’ll get a chance. “She’s been calling me.” I stare down my college friend, silently promising him bodily harm if he opens his trap again.
Marcus wears a look of innocence, trying to play off he meant no harm. Sure. Rat bastard. Punk loves to stir up shit when he can. He grabs his beer and takes a long drink.
“Considering you just bought Heather a BMW, you should probably ignore Portia’s calls,” Gino says. “Just saying. Not worth trying to juggle two women. Trust me.”
Marcus spews beers across the table. “What the hell? You bought her a car? Are you insane?”
My blood boils. Why the hell did I agree to this game? What the devil was I thinking having these meatheads over to my place? They’re such pains in the asses. Bunch of yentas. Gabbing and gossiping once they get bored with sports talk.
I examine my cards, refusing to rise to their bait. “Don’t recall asking you asshats how to spend my hard-earned savings. Can we get back to the game?”
Hank ignores my dark look and presses on. “When do we get to meet her? Sounds pretty serious if you gave her a car.”
“What does she look like?” Tommy asks. “You seem to date a wide variety of types.”
I discard the crap cards and hold onto the only viable ones I’ve been dealt. Answering them will only lead to more questions, so I ignore them. When the insults and hidden jabs get to be too much, you can never show it. Guys revel in picking each other apart with verbal slams, looking for a weakness. They’re like sharks in a crowded backyard pool. At the first hint of blood, you’re dead.
Vanilla Twist: A Walk on the Wild Side Novel (Heather and Tony, Book 2) Page 7
