“Oh, Reese, I know I can.”
I narrow my eyes. “How?”
“When I first saw you tonight, you were standing at the front of the restaurant. When you spotted me, your eyes widened. Boom—turned on. Then I leaned in close after getting nailed in the ribs.” My face heats at the memory. “I pressed my lips to your cheek. You turned all red, and boom—turned on. And to close the deal, I gave you my arm and you took it. Boom—turned on.”
My jaw hangs open just slightly. I must look like a fool, but he has me pegged. “How do you know I was turned on by all those things?”
“It’s the little things—the way you react to me. As a businessman, I’ve learned to study people. Wide eyes here, red cheeks there. You gripping my arm like you didn’t want me to get away. Even that little dig you made earlier about Kelsey. You think I didn’t notice, but I did. I just wasn’t going to point out all the ways until you asked.”
I hunch back into my chair uncomfortably. “I liked it better before you pointed them out. And how’d you become an expert on women?”
“I’d hardly call myself an expert,” he says with a chuckle. “But I do study people. My grandfather taught me a lot, but I also have a secret weapon. Want to know what it is?”
Those bright green eyes? The thick hair? The killer personality? What I can only assume is a giant member hiding beneath his pants that gets hard in public at random times? I raise both brows expectantly.
“My sister.”
“Your sister is your secret weapon?”
He nods. “She has trained me diligently on the art of how to treat women.”
“Did she mention that the first rule is to never reveal your secrets?”
He laughs. “She did, but I always went with the other cliché that honesty is the best policy.”
“Well if we were planning on anything beyond this one dinner, I’d tell you to thank her for me.”
He looks disappointed. “If?”
“Your condition was one dinner.”
“And you met the condition. I’ll cut the check tomorrow. But I’d like to take you out again—for a proper date, not a night that you agreed to because of conditions.”
As if on cue, I spot a man walking through the casino. From this distance, his backside looks exactly like Mark’s. My heart races and a lump thickens my throat.
The man turns around. It’s not him. I should’ve known. If it was him, surely he’d be surrounded by adoring fans.
My racing heart drops.
As much as I’m enjoying my time with Brian, I laid the ground rules. The non-Mark I just spotted is a stark reminder that I’m not ready. I’m still emotionally connected to someone else, and it wouldn’t be fair to Brian. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“This sounds familiar,” he mutters.
“I’m sorry, Brian. It’s just complicated.”
“All right, then. No date. But what about a few friends hanging out at Cosmopolitan on Friday?”
“Doing what?”
“Dancing, gambling if you want.”
“I don’t know.” It sounds like a date.
“Then let me sway you. I’ll bring two friends and you bring two friends. Food and drinks are on me. Money is no object.”
Money is no object. Do people say shit like that? It just seems so…patronizing. I let it go. “Just a group of friends.”
He nods. “Just friends.”
“Tell me a little about your friends so I know which of mine to bring.” I think of Jill and Tess, of course.
“Does it matter if we’re all just friends?”
I lift a shoulder. “I guess it doesn’t.” I stare down at my plate as I debate whether or not this is a good idea. Probably not, but my words are out before my thoughts finish processing. “Okay, Mr. Fox. You’ve got yourself a deal.”
He flashes his cocky smirk at me, and I have to admit that part of me wants him to kiss me even though I’ve been adamant that I’m here for nothing more than friendship.
He escorts me to the front of the restaurant much like he did when we first entered, and I slide my arm through his even though he pointed out that it turns me on. He’s right. I like being close to him. I like his dangerous scent that’s all man—amber and earthy and uniquely Brian Fox.
He turns toward me and leans forward as if he’s about to press his lips to mine. I stiffen.
Instead of kissing me, though, he speaks quietly, his lips inches from mine. “Can I ask what’s so complicated that you’re terrified I might kiss you?”
“I like you,” I whisper.
His lips tip up. “That’s a good thing. That’s how this is supposed to work.” I feel the heat of his breath against my lips as he moves fractionally closer to me.
“That’s why I can’t.”
“You like me so you can’t kiss me?”
I nod, and he’s standing so close to me that the infinitesimal movement of my head almost causes our lips to brush. I let out a soft gasp, and he closes his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly. To an onlooker, we’re a pair of lovebirds about to kiss outside a restaurant after a lovely evening. To me, though, it’s a night I certainly won’t forget anytime soon with someone I’m not ready to be more than friends with. “I know it doesn’t make sense. I just don’t want to use you to get over someone else.”
He backs away, disappointment evident in his eyes. “I understand. Let me walk you to your car.”
I nod. “Do you really understand?” I ask as we walk toward the valet stand.
“I do. I recently ended a long-term relationship.”
“Because of your move?” I glance up at his gorgeous face, currently twisted into a mask of unease.
He nods, his eyes focused ahead of us, refusing to meet mine. I wish I could catch his, to see if I can read his emotions even a little. “That was part of it.”
“Was there another part?”
“Of course.”
“Care to expand?” I know I’m prying, but I’m curious about this man I just met.
He chuckles. “If you’re going to dodge my questions about your complications, I’ll go ahead and reserve the same right.”
I shouldn’t feel hurt by that, but I do. I want him to open up to me, but I haven’t opened up to him. I’m not being fair.
I hand my ticket to the valet. Brian pulls out his wallet to pay my fee, but I hold up my hand. “You already treated me to an expensive meal. I’ll take care of the parking.”
“Nonsense,” he says, handing a few bills to the clerk before I even have the chance to unsnap my clutch.
I sigh. “You don’t have to do that.”
He slings his arm around my shoulder protectively. “I want to.” He brushes his lips gently against my temple, sending a rush of pressure right through my body and landing between my legs.
My Ford rolls up and disappointment spreads through me. “This is me,” I say.
He walks me to the driver’s seat, tipping the man who pulled my car around.
I move to get in the car, but Brian stops me with a hand on my arm. He pulls me close and laces his arms around me. His head comes down on my shoulder, taking me completely by surprise. I hardly know him, but I already know that whole idea of just friends is never going to work with us. There’s too much crackling sexual tension in the air.
“I want to kiss you.” His words are muffled by my hair, but I still hear them.
My eyes smart, so I close them. I want him to kiss me, too, but tonight was just supposed to be about fulfilling the condition of his donation to DLHS. It wasn’t supposed to be about feelings, about wanting more, about kissing each other.
“Not tonight,” I whisper. I like him. I don’t want to play games. But it’s only been a week since I found myself more emotionally connected to a rock star than I thought I’d be. I need time.
He presses a soft kiss to my shoulder and then pulls back. He doesn’t look at me, doesn’t speak another word as he walks awa
y from me and back into the hotel.
Chapter Six
Pain pierces my skull much too early as the loud clanging of my phone wakes me.
Apparently, I forgot to turn off the alarm I keep set during the school year. After I arrived home last night, I downed a bottle of wine and whined to Jill that I should’ve kissed him, and then I went to bed alone.
Alone with my thoughts. Alone with images of Brian Fox as he sat across the dinner table from me. Alone with my memories of an unforgettable night.
My relationship with Brian presents an interesting dynamic. While I’ve worked hard to convince myself that I’m not ready to move on, this morning I wake full of regret—and not just because I drank too much wine last night.
When Brian went in for the kiss, I should’ve let him. I was stupid not to. Who knows if I’ll get another chance? I don’t know him well enough to know if he’s persistent, if he’s interested, or if he’s got twenty women waiting in the wings.
I try to fall back asleep after silencing my alarm, but it’s futile. I’m awake with my regrets.
I force myself out of bed and find Jill in the kitchen. She’s chugging coffee at our kitchen table much like I chugged wine last night as she scrolls the news on her tablet.
She looks as bad as I feel, but she has to go to work today. I, however, am officially on summer break. That means days by the pool, catching up on all the romance novels that have released over the past year since I’ve been reading student essays instead, and day drinking.
Responsible Teacher Reese is officially off duty for a few glorious weeks, and right now I’m officially declaring this Reese’s Summer of Sin in Sin City. Wholesome Reese is packed away with my lesson plans and it’s time for me to tap into my inner naughty girl. I know there’s one in there. There has to be—good, wholesome girls don’t do one-night stands. So I’ll dig deep and get her to come out and play in an effort to move forward from that one night.
“Morning,” she mutters.
“Hey,” I mutter back as I head straight for the ibuprofen and a tall glass of water.
“Why are you up so early?”
“I forgot to turn off my alarm.”
“Dork.”
I’d laugh if I wasn’t desperate for coffee. I pour cream into my cup first then drown it with coffee. “Anything exciting on tap today?”
She nods. “I’m reviewing a show that has a preview night tonight before this weekend’s opening.”
“That sounds fun. Your job is pretty cool.”
“Hey, you’re the lucky bitch with summers off.”
I shrug. “I’m smart. I picked the right profession.”
“It’s all about perspective.”
“True. You got us backstage passes to Vail. That’s pretty dope.”
She laughs. “And it led you to Mark Ashton’s bed. Tell me again how that happened?”
I sigh dreamily as I rest my chin on my hand. “I have no idea.”
“What was the ride to the Mandarin like?”
I pause at her question. She’s my best friend in the entire world. I tell her everything. Everything. But for some reason, our ride to his place seems sacred. I’m not ready to share it yet—maybe not ever. So I lie. “We basically made out the entire way.”
I’ve never lied to Jill before—not like this. The occasional white lie, sure—your hair looks cute with all those tiny braids sticking out everywhere like a rat’s nest, or that lip gloss is the perfect shade of yellow on you, or that dumpy white t-shirt looks adorable with those leggings. White lies to make her feel good, but I’ve never intentionally told her something big that wasn’t true.
* * *
Morning turns swiftly into noon as I read half of my first romance novel of the summer. I lean back against my headboard and text Tess.
Me: You have plans Friday?
Tess: Nothing I can’t cancel. Why?
Me: I went out with this guy last night. He’s new to town and has friends and wants to go out Friday.
My phone rings seconds later. “Before you even ask,” I say without a greeting, “I didn’t sleep with him.”
She laughs. “Amateur.”
“You would’ve?”
“I don’t even have to know the details to know I would’ve. It’s practically payment for a nice meal.”
“God, I hope that’s not true.”
“Are his friends hot?”
“I don’t know. All I know is that he is. But hands off, Tess,” I warn.
“Fine, fine,” she says. “But the friends. I need to know more. And I need to know more about where you met this guy.”
“He’s one of the co-presidents of that company I had to beg for fundraiser money.”
“And I got stuck with fucking Beatrice from Dairy Queen?”
“His friends are the two other presidents.”
“Oh, good call. What was the company name again?”
“FDB Tech Corp. He said drinks are on him and money isn’t an object.”
“What is he, seventy-five? Who says that?”
I giggle. “I wonder how he even got all this money that’s not an object.”
“If you’d have slept with him, you’d have found out a lot more.”
“You’re probably right about that.”
“You should’ve at least gone home with him to check out his pad. Where does he live?”
“I have no idea.”
“Amateur,” she repeats. We say our goodbyes, and as soon as we hang up, I text Brian.
Me: I’ve got two friends lined up for Friday.
His reply comes quickly.
Brian: Are they hot?
Me: Well it’s supposed to be ninety-one today, so I’d guess so.
Brian: Good one.
Brian: What are you wearing?
Me: That’s for me to know and you to dream about.
Brian: You got that right. After you left me hanging last night, all I have are my dreams.
Me: Awfully forward for someone who’s just my friend.
Brian: I may just be your friend, but I think you’re potentially more than that to me.
Me: I guess I can’t rule out potential. Shouldn’t you be working instead of having an entire conversation via text with me?
Brian: I’m multi-tasking.
Me: What are you doing?
Brian: Sitting in a boring meeting that someone else is running.
Me: You should probably pay attention.
Brian: Probably. But you’re far more interesting. Besides, I’m the boss.
Part of me wants to tell him I can’t wait to see him again, but I’m worried I’m already building him up bigger and better in my mind than he is…so I just leave it at that.
Chapter Seven
“Holy shit, Reese,” Jill murmurs beside me.
My heart thumps in my chest as I stare at him. I can’t respond to Jill’s curse because I’m enraptured by the man who has claimed far too many of my waking thoughts for the past two days.
“Which one’s Brian?” Jill asks.
“The one in the middle.”
“Then I’ll take the one on the right.” She grins at the tall, lanky man with brown eyes—just her type.
“I have no qualms taking the leftovers,” Tess says with her eye on the third man, a blond-haired, blue-eyed man with muscles.
We’re waiting for them by the entrance to the casino at the Cosmopolitan, and I can’t help but think that it’s not fair that three men who look like that are just running around Vegas hot and single. All three are dressed for a night out, and the sight of Brian Fox turns the prick of need already forming in my belly into a balloon of desire.
They walk toward us, all three of them powerful and confident, and Brian makes a beeline straight to me as my heart thumps loudly in my chest. I’m sure he can hear it over the din of the casino. He moves in toward me for a hug, but in my nervousness at seeing him again, I totally miss the social cue. I stick my hand out, and instead of the hug he expe
cted, my hand accidentally brushes against his crotch.
My eyes widen and he chuckles. Good Lord, has there been a time yet where I haven’t managed to start off by embarrassing myself in front of this man?
He ignores my faux pas, and honestly, I give him mad props for that. My face feels hot and there’s a loud buzzing sound in my head, yet through the complete mortification, I can’t help the pooling saliva in my mouth.
That one unintentional preview was enough to tell me that he’s hiding some serious goods beneath those fitted dark wash blue jeans.
“Good to see you again,” he murmurs close to my ear.
The urge to kiss him is almost unbearable, but we’re just friends.
Yeah, right.
Brian makes the introductions. “This is Ryan Becker,” he says, nodding toward the one Jill was eyeing, “and Jason Davis.”
“Ryan and Brian?” Tess asks. “Doesn’t that get confusing?”
They both chuckle.
“It does,” Brian says, “Everyone calls us by our last names.”
“So Becker and Fox?” Tess asks, pointing to each of them in turn. They nod. “And Davis?” she asks, pointing to Jason.
“Jason,” he says. She finds her place by his side, already turning on her Tess-charm in only the way she can.
The six of us head toward the bar first. The first round is on Brian, and the second is on Becker. By the time Jason pays for the third, we’re chatting and laughing like we’ve all known each other for years. Brian suggests some blackjack, and we follow the men over to the tables. I don’t have the money to throw it away on blackjack—neither do Jill or Tess, really—but it’ll be free entertainment for us while we watch the money is no object men throw around cash like it’s candy.
Tess sits next to Jason, and the dealer gives her a look that clearly says you can’t sit here if you’re not playing. She ignores him and stays in the chair so she can flirt. I have no doubt that she’s going home with him tonight.
My eyes edge toward the little plaque listing the table spending requirements, and I gasp when I see the hundred-dollar minimum bet. Every hand Brian plays will cost him a week’s worth of groceries for me.
Having that kind of money is unimaginable to me. The most I’ve ever spent on a hand of blackjack was twenty dollars, and it was only because I was on a roll—I was up over a hundred bucks at the time. I can still remember how my hands shook as I thought about what else I could buy with twenty dollars. I won, luckily, and then I cashed in my chips.
Love Triangle: Six Books of Torn Desire Page 48