"Mike and I met the first day of football practice. I was a little messed up. He thought I was an asset to the team and kept me from doing anything too dumb. My mom loves him like another son. I learned to cope. My mechanism is to block off women emotionally. I only thought of them as physical outlets. They were nothing more than the groupies who wanted to be seen with football players. Even when I stopped playing, I never had problems getting a date or getting sex."
"Duncan..."
"I'm not proud of it, but I never took sex from anyone who didn't offer. It just is. Women throw themselves at me. I use them, but if anyone gets close, I move on."
Kimbra nods. "I see."
"No, damn it, you don't. You're different. You always have been. You've never been like those women."
"I was never the football-girlfriend type," she admits.
I pull her eyes back to mine. "No. You're not. You're so much more. I waited for you to throw yourself at me. That's the way my gamebook works. I'm a receiver, not the quarterback."
"I-I..." Kimbra swallows as she looks deep into my eyes.
"For nearly three years I've waited. You never did. That day when you made me this deal, when you gave me the opportunity to be your plus-one, I seized it. Kimbra, I enjoyed this weekend. I don't want it to ruin what we have at work."
Her smile is forced. "What do we have? I never really thought you noticed me."
"If you've listened to me at all, you know that I have. I've noticed and watched. You didn't blackmail me into this deal: I seized it. I've wanted you since that day nearly three years ago."
Kimbra turns back to the window. "I guess," she says softly, "I could be happy for that, or realize that I gave you the opportunity to add another notch—"
"Fuck, no!"
Her entire body flinches.
"You're not a goddamned notch. I don't want this to end. I've enjoyed this weekend. A dog is a big step for me."
"I don't want a dog." She turns on me with fire in her stare. "What I want are some more answers. Honest answers."
"Honest? What do you want to know?" I ask, petrified of what she'll ask. Because if she asks who the woman in the bathroom was, I'll need to tell her the truth. I’ll need to tell her that I don't know her name. And if I tell her that, I'll confirm that I'm nothing more than a womanizing ass, and I wouldn't blame her for walking away.
"First, let me be honest, too. I don't have a model in my past. But I did have someone who promised me more and took it all away. I won't be cheated on or lied to. That's why I'm not asking for more. And I don't want a fucking dog."
I nod. "Your question?"
"You said you weren't in a relationship."
"I don't do relationships."
Her eyes close and then reopen. "The woman, whose name you haven't told me, she isn't...wasn't...it's not serious?"
"No. Not serious."
"You said you were at Gaston's with Jennifer because your date cancelled. Was that date just another woman or is she someone who's important?"
I try to restrain my grin. "She is someone serious."
"I see."
"Stop saying that. You don't."
"Have you...is it more than physical with her?"
I laugh. "It's never been physical...well, I suppose I learned my love of breasts from her, but you can't blame her." Before Kimbra can speak, I confess. "They say breastfeeding is important. She's always wanted what was best for me."
Kimbra shakes her head. "What?"
"My date was my mother. And for the record, I wasn't one of those eight-year-old breastfeeders like that kid on Game of Thrones. I don't remember it, but I do love breasts. There may be a connection. Anyway, my mom and I have dinner every Monday night, ever since I went away to college."
"Y-your mother?"
"Yes, and one day, I'd love to introduce the two of you."
"So," Kimbra says, her eyes blinking rapidly, "you're not involved with anyone?"
"I’m not. Well, I wasn’t…” I correct, unbuckling my seatbelt and moving until I'm standing over Kimbra's seat with my hands on the armrests. Since the plane has reached cruising altitude, thankfully the alarms don't sound. I lean over her, just as I'd done on our way to Indiana. However, this time it isn't about sex. This time I want to be sure she listens and understands every damn word.
She lifts her chin and looks directly into my eyes. "Duncan, please. Don't make this harder. I asked for a weekend. Your debt is paid."
"I want more than a weekend. And maybe someday I can introduce you to my mom and the rest of my family. I wish I could say they’re as much fun as yours, but... They are mine. I’ll claim them."
“You don't owe me any more. Like I said, your debt is paid.”
I lift her chin. “Stop saying that. I realize this began unconventionally, but only because you made me work so damn hard.”
“I-I don’t know what you want.”
“For the first time in my truly adult life, I want a dog.”
Kimbra’s eyes narrow. “A dog?”
“Metaphorically. We live in New York. We both work long hours. It wouldn’t be fair, but…” I lift her hand to my lips and brush her knuckles with light kisses. “I would very much like to try to continue this—what's happening between us—beyond the weekend, if you’ll have me.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Kimbra
I hum against Duncan's mouth as he kisses me outside my apartment door. With my suitcase on the floor, his large hands hold me close, one splayed behind my waist as the other one tugs my loose braid, moving my head to his desire.
Ever since he said he wants to try for more, I can't seem to wrap my head around the thought. My mind is filled with questions. What does that mean? Are we really dating? What did he mean by a metaphoric dog? What the hell is a metaphoric dog?
"W-what..." My question is lost to a whimper as he nips my lower lip.
His hard body presses against mine, and we fall against the door, rattling it on its hinges.
"Are you going to invite me in?" His green eyes lock on mine, while each of his words rumble deep into my core. They're velvet—soft yet covered with just the right amount of coarseness. I feel them more than hear them.
I shake my head. "No."
"No?"
"We spent the last four days at my house, my parents' house. Maybe we need a little break." I don't know why I'm saying this. I want him inside. Let me clarify. I want him inside me, not just my apartment. "And besides, you have a date."
"I could cancel."
My bruised lips slide to a smile. "I don't think that's a good way for your mother to find out about me. Besides, Mr. Willis, I think I like it when you're needy. Umm..." My eyes flutter shut as he presses his hips against me and his hard shaft probes my tummy, letting me feel exactly just how needy he is.
Suddenly the door behind us moves inward. I jump toward Duncan's embrace as we both narrowly avoid tumbling and falling into a pile upon my apartment floor.
"Well, hello!" Shana says with a giant smile.
"W-what are you doing here?" I say, before freeing myself from Duncan and wrapping my best friend in a zealous hug. "You're here!"
"I am, but I can't breathe." Her muffled voice comes as her face is smashed against my shoulder.
I release her and turn toward Duncan. "Duncan, this is Shana. Shana, this is my..." I pause, ready to say boss, the owner of my company. That wasn't how I introduced him in Indiana, but now I'm unsure. What is he?
Duncan extends his hand and flashes his sexy grin. "Boyfriend. I'm Kimbra's boyfriend. And it's very nice to meet you."
Boyfriend.
The word twists my lady parts to just the right amount of painful pleasure.
Shana takes a step back and wiggles her eyebrows. "It's very nice to meet you too, Duncan. Come in. With the way the hinges were shaking, I was afraid the door couldn't take much more."
Duncan looks at me, questioning if he should stay.
I shake my head. "Actually, Du
ncan is late for an appointment."
"I am. But it was nice to meet you." With his hand in the small of my back, he pulls me closer. "And you, this isn't done. I'll call you later."
I nod.
As we step into the hall, he leans in toward my ear. "One more thing, Miss Jones."
My pulse quickens at his warm cinnamon breath on my neck. "Yes?"
"No brushing your teeth. That's my job."
My head tilts and eyes narrow in question, and then it hits me. He means my grandma's vibrator. Pink again fills my cheeks.
Before I can respond, his grin widens. "I do love it when you blush."
After we kiss, he winks and wheels my suitcase closer.
"Boyfriend?" I ask softly as I reach for the handle.
"Do you have a different title?"
I shrug. "No, I like that title."
"Good. Hopefully I'll do better than I have."
"You've been pretty good lately."
"That's good to hear, coming from my girlfriend."
Girlfriend.
I swallow as he turns and heads for the elevator. Once I close the door, Shana is right before me and her loud, high-pitched scream fills the silence.
"Oh. My. God!" she shrieks. "I want to know everything. And I mean everything." She reaches for my hand and pulls me to the couch.
"Wait," I say. "Why are you here? I mean, I'm glad you are, but why?"
Shana shakes her head. "Maybe if you weren't so busy doing whatever it is you're going to tell me all about, you'd have heard about the big storm brewing. It's early in the season, and right now it's only a category two. Depending on the shifting winds, it could be bigger or smaller. I don't think they really know. All that matters is that my flight was delayed and then delayed again. The airline is all backed up. As long as the storm stays south, I am supposed to fly out Wednesday."
I search my mind. "I haven't heard anything about a hurricane."
Stay south. Stay south of where?
Before I can ask, she bounces up and down. "Of course you haven't. You've been a little too busy with Mr. Sexy. Now spill!"
I lift my shoulders and sigh. As I lower them a smile spreads across my face. "I don't know. I really don't."
"Let me help. You survived the wedding from hell and most importantly, he just said boyfriend and girlfriend, as in a couple, as in a dating couple."
As in a relationship, something he said he didn't do.
My heart beats rapidly at the idea that he wants to do it with me. Memories of the weekend flash through my mind. Other than my breakdown, resulting in the painful massacre of a few boy bands, the weekend was about as far from hell as one could get. It was closer to heaven. "It wasn't as bad as I predicted."
"That's my philosophy. Expect the worst and it always comes out better. So...tell me what happened. How did we go from plus-one to more?"
"I don't know," I admit. "I'm kind of in shock. I want to believe it's real. But with the whole pretend weekend, I don't know."
"Oh, the noises coming through that door sounded real to me."
My cheeks heat as I let out a long breath and fall back to the couch. “I don’t know. Shana, it was amazing. He was amazing. My family loves him.”
“Grandma Helen?”
I laugh. “Oh my God. That was so embarrassing. Can you imagine? I can't believe my family."
"I love your family...well, when they're not upsetting you."
I remember Duncan saying the same thing. "They mean well. Nevertheless, I wanted to hide in a hole at times because of my mom and grandma." I shake my head, recalling Duncan's comment about electric toothbrushes. "Grandma was no-holds-barred…and Duncan laughed right along. I can’t even imagine how anyone else would have handled them. Duncan was…”
“The perfect plus-one?” Shana asks.
“Quite possibly the most perfect. I think I also said yes to more because if I admit to my family that it was a sham, it'll break their hearts. They fell for him. For them, I have to try.”
Shana’s eyebrows dance. “That’s it? That’s the only reason you said yes was for your crazy family.” Her lips purse. “It wasn’t because you wanted to, or because you've fantasized about it, or, of course, because of the mind-blowing, fantastic sex?”
My grin grows. “It was pretty mind-blowing.”
“Honey, you did it on his plane!”
I'd texted that to her after we landed. I had to tell someone, and she seemed safer than my mom. My head bobs. “And in my childhood bedroom, and technically, it wasn’t sex, but also behind the barn…”
“Stop. I’m already jealous.”
“Oh, no, you’re not. I’m sure that in no time at all, you’ll snag some good-looking Englishman with a to-die-for accent.”
“Technically, when I'm over there, they say I have the accent.” Her voice softens. “I’m only mildly jealous that you finally had mind-blowing sex. But what I really love is that you’re positively glowing.”
“I just don’t know how to handle tomorrow at work. I mean, if I see him, I’ll probably trip. Oh, I know. I’ll drop something and end up on my knees in front of Duncan."
Shana's laugh vibrates through our apartment. "Tell me. Did that happen?"
"At Gaston's...with you," I remind her.
"No." Her forehead furrows as her smile grows. "Did you end up on your knees with him in Indiana?"
My cheeks catch fire. "I’ve already said too much. I don't kiss and tell."
"I know you kissed him. I know the sex was phenomenal. What I want to know is all the other gory details. Like...are the rumors true? Is he blessed? Is his junk blessed with length or girth? I myself have always been a girth girl, but if you can get both... Does he have both?"
I shake my head. "Not kissing and telling."
"You kissed it!" She bounces on the end of the sofa. "You kissed his cannoli!"
"I did," I softly admit.
"Oh. My. God. My little Kimbra has found her inner sex kitten."
"I did. I mean, with him, it isn't hard."
Her nose scrunches. "It isn't?"
"Not like that! Yes, it's hard and has length and girth and oh...sweet Jesus..."
"I'm so glad you didn't starve yourself this weekend. While your cousin ate wedding cake, you feasted on giant pastries." Her eyes narrowed. "So what's the problem?"
"Did I say there's a problem?"
"No, but I get this feeling you're worried about too much sugar."
"The opposite. I'm worried I'll become addicted to the pastry. Hell, I am already. And he laid it on the line. He doesn't do relationships."
Shana's eyes narrow. "What is a boyfriend and girlfriend?"
"That's what I don't know. He said he doesn't do forever. He can only promise right now."
"So he's honest. How many times have men promised forever and bugged down the road? Besides, the last I heard you didn't want kids, a white picket fence, or any of those things, either."
"I didn't. I don't...but that doesn't mean ever."
"Then enjoy Duncan while you can." Her expression turns serious. "Can you do that? Isn't some months or years of that radiant glowing smile on your face better than none?"
"I guess. And like I said, if we date—like, really date—for even a little while, it wouldn't be like I lied to my family."
"Right."
"Oh," I say, remembering my brother's announcement. "Kevin's wife is pregnant."
"Susan? Really? That's great. Now that will take the pressure off you. Your mom will get grandchildren and everyone will be happy."
"I think I am."
"No, honey, you definitely are. That smile says you're happy. The only one stopping you is you. That man who left this place is head over heels. It's written all over his face. I was worried about leaving you, but damn, you won't even know I'm gone."
My smile turns upside down. "I will. I miss you already."
"Then let's order some real pizza. They don't have real New York pizza in London. And open a bottle of
wine and while we watch some sappy movie, you can tell me how much better Duncan is in bed than the guy in the film."
I rack my brain trying to think of any movie star who would be better than Duncan. Their faces and credits pale in comparison. I come up blank.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Duncan
My mom leans across the booth of the little pub in SoHo where I met her. It's one of our favorite spots. When I left for college, she insisted that I meet her once a week. In college, we had Monday nights off from football practice.
Monday night dates became our thing. Over ten years later, we're still doing it.
The night she stood me up at Gaston's, she was sick. Last week, she still wasn't one hundred percent, so I went to her and my dad's house for dinner. Now, as I gaze across the table, it's good to see the spirit in her eyes and to see for myself that she's finally feeling better. As much as I didn't want to leave Kimbra. I wanted to keep this date.
My mom has always been a cool mom. That doesn't mean she hasn't gotten upset with my brother Trevor or me. The best part about her is when she's mad, you know it. And when the issue is resolved, it's over. Her bark is far worse than her bite.
Even in her late fifties, she still works. She's cut it back to four days a week, but I can't convince her to stop. She doesn't need the money. Dad's still working, and more than once, I've offered to subsidize her income. She only laughs, telling me it isn't the money she loves: it's her work. It has to do with helping children's reading comprehension. Maybe that's why she's put up with Trevor's and my different issues. She's patient.
Mom lowers her voice as she looks directly at me. "Are you going to tell me about your weekend?"
I realize that not every thirty-three-year-old speaks as honestly as I do with my mom, but ever since Tessa, Mom and Mike have been my conscience. It's not like they're little Jiminy Crickets, but more like accountability partners. I did the counseling thing for a few years, mostly at Mom's insistence, but in the long run, Mom and Mike have taken over that role.
There isn't much about me that they don't know. I don't sugarcoat it. I even told my mom how Kimbra got me to go to Indiana—or how Kimbra thought she tricked me into being a plus-one. Though my mom wasn't happy with my behavior, she was more than a little impressed with Kimbra's spunk.
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