The familiar buzz interrupted and I excused myself. “Well, well, well. We were just talking about the king and his queen. Everything okay in the world of sushi?”
“Yeah, you ass. It’s awesome. You at dinner?” Chase questioned.
“What do you think?” He knew exactly where I was. Guarantee his sentimental ass called Maggie first thing this morning and checked in like he did every family dinner that he wasn’t parked at the table. “Wait. You miss me. You fucking miss me. I knew you would—can’t go three weeks without talking to me.”
“Oh, shut the hell up. Lili wanted me to call and make sure you’re behaving.”
“Blame it on the wife. Good, C. Mature.”
“You’re such an asshole. It’s confirmed you’re still a dick, so now I can enjoy the rest of my trip. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks, asshole.”
“Yeah, yeah. Miss you too. See you in a couple of weeks,” I mumbled through laughter before I hung up the phone.
I was surprised by another annoying pang of guilt. Not that I would have told him on his honeymoon that I bumped into Talia Prince. I meant Pryce. Besides there wasn’t much to tell. We crossed paths, spoke once, and texted a couple of times. Right, keep telling myself that.
A crazy busy week with zero Talia communication just confirmed the fact that I had nothing to tell. Halloween came and I found myself with a sexy nurse on my arm. Decked in fishnets and black patent thigh-high boots. Score. Her skirt was so short that if she coughed I saw her ass, just how I liked it. Alone, preferably near a bed. But unfortunately, I was standing in the middle of a grand foyer made to look like an insanely realistic graveyard. If he weren’t a six-figure client who paid for a good portion of my livelihood, I would not have been here. This was not my scene. I did parties; I did women. I didn’t do sleaze.
“Craig, what the hell are you supposed to be?” This guy was kidding me dressed as Fred Flintstone. Really. “Actually, forget it.” He directed his attention to my date. “Lovely, this old man is in need of a personal nurse. Please say you’ll consider the job.”
My date politely giggled, but I didn’t miss her grasp on my arm tighten. Smart girl.
“Think you’re in capable hands.” I gestured toward Marcus Powell’s pubescent escort. Wasn’t Pebbles the daughter? Sick.
Marcus got my message. “Excellent point, counselor.” He pinched Pebbles’ ass. Dirtball. “Make yourself at home.” He waved his hand in both directions without lifting his creepy gaze above my date’s cleavage. I could have sworn I felt goose bumps rise over her flesh.
“Let’s get a drink, Asher.” She tugged on my arm, leading me away from Mr. Flintstone. This was why business should be left in the boardroom. Another five minutes in his company and he was going to need a new lawyer to close his next deal. Eighteen mill or not.
Surrounded by dirty old men with questionably legal arm candy, we ponied ourselves up to the spider web-covered bar and ordered a quick drink. Shocker, she ordered a fruity cosmopolitan, and so began the mindless chatter. Eyeing the candy fishbowl, my mind wondered to what a certain classy blonde doctor was doing tonight. No doubt, not this.
Trick or treating in Manhattan when we were kids was dumb. You were only allowed in your own building, and the nicer buildings (where we were lucky enough to live) discouraged guests so you couldn’t even hang with your friends. Really dumb, actually. We were probably nine or so when the four of us boycotted and opted for double-header movies. Every year, same theatre, same time. Until we hit high school and the Coltons forced Chase and Kim to show face at their annual masquerade event. Charity, my ass. But Talia insisted the two of us continue the tradition. She picked one flick, usually an action movie, and I picked the other, always a horror. Like it mattered. For a few hours straight, my brain would bounce between horny and rational. My dilemma was sitting in the dark next to the hottest girl I knew but unable to do jack shit because she was my best friend. Four hour hard-ons seriously sucked.
My patience for this mandatory appearance dwindled, not to mention my internal trip down memory lane had me a little tense and way more interested in seeing how fishnets and thigh highs were going to look on my bedroom carpet. So I tossed a Benjamin in the tip jar and stood up. “Come on, sweetheart, what do you say we get out of here?”
“No argument here, counselor.”
All right, she was pretty damn cute too. I helped her off her stool, but not before I pocketed a box of candy. We skipped the goodbyes; no need to degrade ourselves any further, the welcoming was plenty. Then I took her back to my place, relieved my tension, and proved my theory. Yup, they looked way better on my carpet. Even if they belonged to the wrong woman.
By six AM I was a puddle of sweat. Always an early riser. Didn’t matter that I got to sleep around three, after I drove nurse Jackie home. Clips from last night fueled my workout. I was usually pretty regimented in my routine, but upper body training wasn’t cutting it today, so I killed the rope for a solid hour. Still couldn’t shake it. Shit. I sent the rope sailing across the hardwood floor of my penthouse apartment, the crash of the handles echoing through the mostly empty space. Grabbing my pants off my bedroom floor, I fished through the pockets to find what I was looking for. A two-hour sexcapade last night and this was all that was on my mind.
I toweled my wet face, plopped down on the leather sofa, and shook the small box. Screw it.
Trick-or-treat?
You’re a few hrs late.
Fine, no treat for you, I’ll eat them all.
Why r u awake?
Nothing. I waited. Finally.
Couldn’t sleep- damn horror movies
And hot tamales can rot your teeth ;)
Fuck me. Two things. One, where was the douche whose job it was to make sure she was asleep? She always hated my horror movie choice but at least my shoulder was the perfect place for her to hide her eyes. And two, she remembered. Not a gig would go by that I didn’t feed that girl’s addiction. Addiction was putting it lightly—it was more like an obsessive-compulsive Hot Tamale disorder. If such a thing existed. To this day I held stock in Just Born. I kept that family-owned business afloat. This just reconfirmed why.
No shoulder to hide your eyes?
And only the HT expert would know that truth
Miss those little red spicy guys
That’s an easy fix.
ETA 2 weeks.
I hit send without thinking. Oh well, I guessed it was decided. I was going. Period.
Chapter 4 Bacon and Eggs
My plane landed at San Diego International Airport. I was here for business. Well, that was what I told Talia. I hadn’t done business in San Diego in ten years, but no one said I couldn’t. A conference call from my hotel room counted. Right? I could easily make that happen, piece of cake. And a quick lunch with an old associate from my firm. Done. Definitely in San Diego for business. But there was only one real reason my ass sat on a six-hour flight. Her. And after battling some reluctance, I finally got her to agree to drinks tonight. I wasn’t sure how I would have responded to flat out refusal. Thrilled I didn’t have to find out.
With my bag tossed over my shoulder, I stood in line for a cab. There was no rush. I definitely didn’t need a car service. I had five hours to kill before we were meeting.