“Me, too. Love you, Mom.”
After ending the call, I threw my cell down on the comforter and stalked to the minibar. After a quick examination, I slammed the door. Figured all this place would have was granola bars and healthy shit. I needed a drink.
An hour later, my left elbow was propped up on the bar at the Outer Rim. I looked out over the lagoon from inside the large open air atrium as a monorail whooshed through the building on the track above me. The bar was small and concave. It only sat four but all the seats were filled as were the couple of low loungers by the windows. Apparently being happy was easier with a little liquid lubrication. For me it was gonna take a helluva a lot.
I tried yet again to generate some interest in the blonde beside me. It’d been wishful thinking that she’d be able to distract me. Even with my mind blurry from four drinks, it wasn’t happening. She was too small on top, too curvy on the bottom, and the eyes and smile were all wrong. In other words, she wasn’t Lace.
I was so screwed.
The blonde took the cherry from her drink, pulled the stem off, and leaned in close. “Wanna see what I can do?” She gave me a flirty smile.
“Not really.” I was serious.
She didn’t get it. She laughed and proceeded to try to wow me with her tongue tying prowess.
Suddenly the hairs on the back of my neck prickled. I glanced over my shoulder. Lace stood by the gift shop, forgotten souvenirs in her hand as her wide eyes met mine she brought the pile of t-shirts she held to her chest like a protective shield and then spun away.
I squeezed the blonde’s hand. “Nice trick, baby, but sorry, I gotta go.”
“Wait,” she protested, but I ignored her. I threw a couple of twenties on the bar and hurried to the shop. As soon as I entered, I spotted her in the checkout line and called out to her.
Lace tensed before turning to face me. “Hey.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Pretty girl,” she commented.
“I didn’t notice.” I took a step closer to her.
“The only one you’ll ever love, huh?” Her cheeks reddened as she twisted the shirts as if embarrassed that she’d said that out loud.
“Yes, dammit.” I grabbed her arm and pulled her around the counter and over to a secluded corner, next to a bargain bin of Mickey Mouse swimsuits and flip flops.
“Have you talked to War yet?”
“No, not yet. He…”
I moved her backward. “You didn’t like seeing me with someone else, did you?” I grabbed her hands and pinned them behind her back forcing her to look up at me. “Well join the club. I don’t like watching you with him either,” I admitted in a growl.
Her eyes darkened with understanding.
“You need to talk to him. Today, Lace.”
She licked her lips and nodded.
I stared at her mouth. “I’ve laid it out to you how I feel, and I believe you feel the same.” She was fighting it though. She needed a push, and I was going to give her a big one. I came closer, crudely rocking my erection against her. “That’s for you, babe. I’ve been over there with that blonde, but the whole fucking time I’ve been thinking about you. It’s always you.”
Her breath caught. “Stop it, Bry,” she begged in a rough whisper.
“Give me a reason to stop Lace. Or I’m going to take that blonde upstairs and pretend that she’s you.”
She closed her eyes. I could see her pulse beating furiously in her neck. I held my breath waiting for her to answer.
“Excuse me.”
I let go of Lace’s hands and turned to look over my shoulder.
“I need to reorganize the suits,” a shop lady told us. “You two on your honeymoon?” she asked with a raised brow as she started to sift through the bin.
“No,” Lace replied before slipping past me and practically sprinting for the exit.
“Lace, wait.” I caught her by the elbow.
“Let me go, Bry.” Her voice was low and she looked flustered as hell. “I can’t do this right now. I’ve got a meeting with Mary Timmons. I’m already late.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“It didn’t sound like a question,” she rasped. “It sounded more like a threat.”
Fuck me but I liked the defiant glint in her eyes. “You know what I want.”
She shook her head.
So I spelled it out for her. “I want you to tell War it’s over. I want to be able to stop hiding how we feel about each other. I want to hold your hand so everyone will know you’re mine. I want to laugh and flirt with you again. I want to take you out on dates. I want to be the one in the back bedroom with you on the bus instead of him. I want to make love to you and then hold you all night long. I want to wake up next to you in the morning. I want you, babe. Just you.”
She closed her eyes. “I can’t give you what you want,” she whispered, but I saw the surrender written in her eyes when she reopened them, and I knew then that’s what she really wanted too.
23
I tore my arm free from Bryan’s grasp and ran from the shop as if an animatronic Disney villain had come to life and was pursuing me. When I reached the bank of elevators, I stopped to catch my breath and glanced back. Bryan was leaning back against one of the columns of the shop, one ankle crossed over the other, hands in the front pockets of his dark jeans. To the casual observer he might look relaxed, but I knew better. His eyes were watchful. He was like a coiled spring ready to come unwound. I knew because I felt the exact same way.
I watched a mother and a teenage daughter both do a double take when they passed him. Bryan Jackson was every woman’s bad boy fantasy: tall, long legs, tight body, tatted arms, and handsome as sin. And what they saw on the outside was just a small part of all the good that was him.
The elevator door opened. I paused before getting in. I was so tempted to go run to him, who the hell wouldn’t be after what he’s just said. I had to stop doing this though. I’d made my decision, but I really wondered if it’d been the right one. A father and a son hurried onto the elevator. “What number do you need?” the man asked me.
“Twelve,” I mumbled before moving to the back. I shook my head as if that was all it would take to clear away the confusion. After the door closed, I began to fret. What if he did go back to the blonde? I started to shake. I felt kind of woozy like I had a fever. I rubbed my chilled arms, forcing my thoughts back to the upcoming meeting with Black Cat’s CEO.
When Mickey Mouse’s recorded voice announced my floor, I plodded out of the elevator and trudged down the hall to Timmons’ room. Outside the door, a woman with grey green eyes almost as beautiful as Bryan’s smiled pleasantly at me. She had a cell pressed to her ear.
“Just a second,” she told the caller. Balancing the phone between her cheek and shoulder, she held out her hand to me. “Beth Tate. I’m head of PR for Black Cat.”
I nodded and shook her hand.
“She shouldn’t be long,” Beth informed me after ending her call. Sure enough the door popped open. Charles Morris came storming out, straightening his tie and buttoning his suit jacket. Beth slid past the Zenith exec on her way into the room. He had pink lipstick smeared on the side of his mouth. When he looked at me I pointed it out, trying to hide my surprise.
This was interesting.
Rubbing the color off with his thumb, Charles cleared his throat and ran a hand through his close cropped hair. “Whatever she offers you, I’ll double.” His voice was gruff.
I didn’t know what to say, but I got the distinct impression that I was caught in the middle of something more than just a competition for my services.