by Cheri Wood
He closes the door and I take a deep breath as he walks around the car. What is wrong with me? I’m acting like a total bitch. I take out my cell phone and type out a quick text to Tiffany.
The stripper?
My phone buzzes before I can close my bag.
Your welcome
I glare at the screen, inwardly muttering “you’re”, but Jorah is buckling in and I quickly do the same, putting my phone away.
“Sorry. Just checking in,” I mumble as an excuse. Let him think I’m a helicopter mom.
“Don’t worry about it. Now, where are we headed tonight?”
Jordan
I’m going to kill my brother for making me deceive a single mom who’s clearly freaked out about her blind date being a stripper. The look she gave me when I made that stupid joke about not knowing if I had kids or not said it all. She thinks I’m a manwhore. Or some asshole got her pregnant and took off, not knowing or caring that he’d fathered a child. Either way, I’m pretty sure she’ll be even less interested in dating after tonight.
Also, Jorah way undersold this date when he called her cute. Emily isn’t cute, she’s fucking gorgeous. Even covered up as she is, there’s no hiding her curves and her expressive face. The kind of face you’d love to watch as she comes.
Not that I’m ever going to be that man. Jorah’s made sure of that.
“I never do this sort of thing,” she blurts.
I glance over at her, the way she’s biting her bottom lip and picking at her cuticles revealing her nervousness.
“What ‘thing’ is that?” I ask, focusing on the road again as thoughts of her lips make me feel things I shouldn’t.
“Go on a blind date. Or any date, really,” she adds quickly.
“Yeah, me neither.”
“Hm? You— you don’t?”
Oh, crap. Okay, she doesn’t know Jorah’s an escort, she only thinks he’s a stripper, so… “Not really, no. I mean, I’m around women a lot, but…”
“Being a… performer… has put you off dating?” she asks timidly.
I shrug. What do you say to that? “What about you?” I ask, steering her away from the topic of my fake life. “What made you decide to go out on a blind date?”
“Desperation?” She gives off a cute little laugh, and I can tell she’s being self-deprecating. “I haven’t gone out with a man since before Katie was born, and I probably wouldn’t have agreed for my friend to set me up if it hadn’t been for this party.”
“It’s the kind of party where you need to bring someone?” I ask, curious about her workplace.
“No, but my friend suggested it might be a good idea for me to show up with someone.”
“You’re getting unwanted attention?” I ask, sensing she’s holding something back.
“Um… yeah, I guess you could say that.”
“Gotcha. Well, let me know what you want me to say or do, and I’m at your service.” At your service? Fuck, did I just say that? I glance over to see her cheeks glow and her eyes focused on her hands in her lap and I know I did.
“Thanks,” she mumbles.
“So, tell me something about yourself. I mean, if we’re going to sell the image of the two of us dating, I should at least know the basics, right?”
“Oh. I guess. Um… why don’t you start?”
I smile at her, hoping I’m pulling off the casual, charming look that Jorah might give her. “Which story do you want?”
“Um… any story you’d like to tell?”
“All right. I’m a reclusive web designer who last went on a date in college and I tend to avoid crowds because they make me anxious.”
She blinks, then frowns as she studies me. “I don’t think anyone’s going to believe that.”
I bark out a laugh. “Why not?”
“Well, you’re… I mean, objectively speaking… you’re insanely attractive. And easy to talk to.”
I can’t help but smile. I won’t pretend that I don’t know that I’m attractive – my twin brother makes a living off his looks and never lets me forget it – but having a woman say it to me for the first time in a long time is… nice.
“Thanks. I guess I should have brought glasses or something. Works for Clark Kent,” I quip, and succeed in making her chuckle.
“Okay. Web designer it is. How’d we meet since neither one of us go out?”
“Online dating.”
“Right. Of course.”
“Okay, enough stalling,” I tell her. “What’s your story?”
She takes a deep breath. “I was halfway through law school when I found out I was pregnant. My parents weren’t happy when I decided to keep her, and they cut me off. So I got a job at a law firm as a secretary and I’ve been working there ever since.”
“How old’s your daughter?”
“She turned two a few months ago.” Emily smiles and it lights up her entire face, including her eyes. Rich, hazel eyes bringing out the natural highlights in her thick, brown hair.
“She’s a beauty,” I remark.
“She is,” Emily says softly. “She’s the most important thing in my life.”
Yeah, Jorah is so dead.
Emily
Butterflies are flapping their wings in the pit of my stomach as I ride up in the elevator with Jorah, and I put my hand on my belly to calm them down.
“Motion sickness?” Jorah asks, sounding concerned.
I look up at him and realize just how gorgeous he is even under the harsh glow of the elevator interior lighting. His eyes are electrically blue, and that shaded jaw only makes him seem manlier. Not to mention he’s both sweet and funny. Too bad this is all for show.
I shake my head to get it back on straight. I have no idea what Tiffany did to get this exquisite specimen of a man to agree to a blind date with a mousy single mom, but I have no illusions that he’ll ever want to see me again. I haven’t exactly made the best impression, and I’ve got nothing on all the beautiful women he’s bound to meet on the job.
“Just a bit nervous. I’m not a fan of parties,” I tell him, looking up at the elevator display to see it count up to the top floor where the firm is hosting the Christmas party.
“I’ve got you,” Jorah says, and laces his fingers with mine, squeezing my hand reassuringly.
I look down at our intertwined hands and feel the heat travel from his body straight down to my core. It’s just pretend, I tell myself. It doesn’t mean anything.
Thankfully, the elevator doors open before I can get too weird about us holding hands, and the overwhelming sounds and garish color scheme makes me hold on tighter.
“We could just make a run for it,” Jorah leans in and whispers in my ear, his breath tickling my neck and the musky scent of him invading my nostrils. Leaving would be bad. In many ways.
“I need to be seen here,” I explain to him. “It’s the kind of thing that weighs in on your performance review. Can’t stay home from parties or you’re lacking in team spirit.” Jorah looks at me as if I’ve just described an alien planet and its customs to him. I shrug. “It is what it is.”
As if on cue, Nick walks up to us, carrying two glasses of champagne. He leans in and kisses my cheek.
“Emily, you’re looking stunning as always. Who’s your friend?” he asks, pulling back and handing me a glass while sipping from the other himself.
“This is Jorah, my date. Jorah, this is Nick, my boss,” I tell Jorah, who appears to be sizing up Nick as if he were competition. Ridiculous thought.
“Boyfriend, actually,” Jorah says, extending his hand for a handshake. I can almost see Nick’s knuckles whiten with the grip he takes on Jorah’s hand.
“Boyfriend?” Nick echoes, raising his eyebrows as he looks at me. “You’ve been holding out on me, Emily.”
“It’s new,” I blurt. “Would you excuse us, Nick? I want to show Jorah the buffet.”
“Certainly,” Nick says, tipping his glass to me. “We’ll catch up later.”
I pa
ste on a smile even as I tug Jorah away.
“That’s the guy?” he says in hushed tones as we head over to the buffet table.
“What guy?”
“The one you’re getting unwanted attention from? You didn’t tell me he was your boss.”
“Does it matter?”
“The hell it does. It’s the 21st century. Assholes like that have been getting away with harassing their female employees for far too long. Have you talked to HR?”
I scoff. “You mean Cheryl? She’s the one in the red dress over there with her hand on Nick’s ass. No, I won’t be talking to HR.”
“It’s not right,” he grumbles.
I’m filled with the urge to tuck myself into his arms and let him shield me like his instincts are clearly urging him to. Instead, I settle for touching his arm.
“Let’s get something to eat. And then we can mingle and get out of here before it gets to be too late.”
About an hour later, I’ve introduced Jorah as my boyfriend to pretty much everyone and, given some of the questioning looks I’ve gotten tonight, I have a feeling I’ll have a lot of questions coming my way on Monday morning.
We’ve just stopped in a doorway to talk to Jim, the IT guy, and his wife, when Elsa, the exuberant receptionist, exclaims that we’re standing under mistletoe and before I know it, Jim and his wife are smooching and everyone seems to be cheering for Jorah and me to do the same.
This was so not what I’d hoped for, but when I look up at Jorah, he seems fine with it, so I rise up on my toes and press my lips lightly to his. Before I can pull away, though, his hand snakes into my hair and he cups the back of my neck, holding me in place as he kisses me properly, his lips parting over mine and his tongue coaxing me to taste him. I’m only vaguely aware of the hoots and cheers around us and then lust bolts through me, making me grip his shirt and press up against him. I’m dazed as he releases me and steps back, making me stumble. His strong hands are there to hold me upright, but I’m mortified as I look up at him and realize where we are. I mutter an apology and push through the crowd that’s already dispersing, heading for the bathrooms. I’m almost there when a firm hand grabs my arm and pulls me into a vacant conference room.
“What are you—?” I start, thinking that it’s Jorah. I blink as I realize it’s Nick. “Nick? What are you doing?”
“Me? What the hell are you doing, Emily?” His eyes are dark and blazing, and I instinctively take a step back, which brings me up against the wall. “You prance around the office with your tight little body, flirting with me, driving me crazy to have you, and then you show up with a boyfriend?”
There are so many things wrong with his statement, but he’s clearly drunk and I’m afraid to point them out. My arm is still burning from where he grabbed me.
“Nick, please.”
He slams his hands against the wall on either side of my head, making me flinch, my pulse skyrocketing as adrenaline pumps through my body. We’re in a semi-public place. Someone will hear me if I scream, even over the music playing from the speakers out in the main conference area. Right?
“Nick,” I say as calmly as I can with him towering over me and his anger permeating the air around us. “You’re married. I’m sorry if you thought I was flirting with you, but I swear that was never my intention. I would never go after a married man. What kind of example would that set for my daughter?”
He doesn’t speak, but most of the tension appears to be leaving his body. After a few breathless seconds, he sighs and drops his head to my neck.
“I’m sorry, Emily. I think I’ve had too much to drink. Forgive me.”
I start to relax and let out a sigh of relief. “I forgive you.”
Nick doesn’t raise his head, though. Instead, he moves it downward, stroking across the top of my chest, while his hands find my hips.
“Nick. Come on,” I tell him, trying to push him away, but he grips my wrists and slams them against the wall, hard, pinning me there.
“Stop it, Nick. I mean it. I’m going to scream if you don’t.”
He kicks my legs apart and wedges his knee between them and I scream. It’s only half a scream, because he covers my mouth with his. I bite him as hard as I can and he swears at me. Just then, the door slams open and a tall, dark figure pulls Nick away from me, leaving me in the arms of Krista, one of the other secretaries, who ushers me out of the room as I hear a punch being thrown. There’s shouting, and screaming, and then I’m in the ladies’ room with my tears streaming down my cheeks. Panic courses through my body, the weirdest thoughts rushing through my mind.
“I’ll never be able to go back to work.” “Everyone’s going to be talking about me.” “They’re going to say I led him on.” “My career’s over.” “He knows people everywhere.” “Everyone’s going to call me a slut.”
And so on. And so on. I’m only vaguely aware of Krista wiping my face, stroking my back, soothing me. And then there’s an authoritative voice booming out in the hallway, “Security.”
“I’ve ruined the party.”
“No, you haven’t,” Krista says, and I realize I said it out loud. “If anyone did, it was Nick. I can’t believe he— it’s just insane.”
“Maybe he’s never heard the word ‘no’ before,” I mutter, still wiping my tears.
“Probably,” Krista says, handing me another tissue. “Do you want me to get your boyfriend?”
I stare at her, momentarily puzzled as to who she’s talking about, and then I remember. “Jorah. Oh, god, was he—?”
“I saw him take a swing at Nick. I don’t know what happened next.”
“He was the one who—?” I trail off, not wanting to say the words or – least of all – acknowledge what just happened.
Krista nods. “Do you want me to get him?”
I nod. I just want to leave, and Jorah’s my ride. Instinctively, I know I’m safe with him.
“Okay. I’ll be right back,” she says, hurrying for the door.
I turn and look at myself in the mirror. The little makeup I had on has been washed away, and I look pale and hollowed out. And tired. So incredibly tired.
There’s a knock on the door and I look over to see Jorah inching it open. “You okay?” he asks cautiously, and I shrug.
He steps inside, clicking the door shut behind him, and I notice the Band-Aid on his forehead. I step forward and reach out.
“What happened to you?”
Jorah gives me a sheepish smile, showing off a busted lip, and shrugs. “You should see the other guy.”
I reach up and gingerly touch his face. “I’m so sorry.”
“No, Emily. You have nothing to apologize for. I’m the one who’s sorry. I should have checked that you were okay when you ran off, but Jim dragged me into conversation again and I figured I’d let you have some space, but then when I went looking for you—“ he trails off and winces. “I could’ve fucking killed him, Emily. I don’t know what came over me, I just reacted, and—“ he shakes his head. “I should have checked on you.”
I shake my head. “Honestly, I’m glad you didn’t. I’m an ugly crier.” I try to sound casual, but my voice cracks and I see the pity in Jorah’s eyes.
“I’d like to hug you,” he says softly. “But only if you’d feel comfortable with that.”
My heart squeezes in my chest and I nod, tears brimming. “I think I’d like that.”
He opens his arms to me, and I step into his embrace. His arms are loose around me at first, but as I bury my face in his shirt and sniffle, he holds on tighter.
Jordan
I leave my contact information with the officers at the scene before taking Emily home. They want a statement from her as soon as possible, but I can’t let her be subjected to any more trauma tonight. I saw enough from entering that room to testify in court and put that bastard behind bars. I grip the steering wheel tightly, hyperaware of the fact that Emily’s teeth are chattering despite the heater running on full blast.
; “We’re almost there,” I tell her. “You’re safe.”
She nods, her movements jerky.
“Is there someone you want me to call? Someone who could stay with you tonight?” I ask, carefully glancing over at her.
“No, I—“ I just want to be with my baby. I don’t want her to get upset, and I don’t think I can pretend everything is fine if I have to tell someone else.”
I nod, understanding how it’s sometimes easier to be strong for someone else’s sake than for your own. And yet, I worry about her falling apart and not having anyone to lean on. It’s insane to feel this protective of a woman I’ve only known for a few hours, but with everything that happened tonight… it was a shock to the system. Before I hid myself away behind my computer, I was overprotective of the people around me. Especially Jorah. Being born first made me the designated big brother, and maybe that’s why I still feel that I need to step in when someone’s in trouble.
“If there’s anything I can do…” I trail off, stopping short of offering to stay the night. Even a socially inadept person like myself realizes the last thing a woman wants after a sexual assault is to have another stranger force himself into her home, no matter how well-intentioned.
“Thank you, Jorah. You went well and beyond your duties as my date tonight. I’m really sorry about all the drama…”
Thankfully, we’ve arrived on her street so I can park safely before focusing my full attention on her.
“Emily. You have nothing to apologize for. You did nothing wrong. Nothing, you hear me?”
She blinks and I see a tear roll down her cheek. Instinctively, I reach out to swipe it with my thumb. I quickly pull my hand back.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t touch you without asking.”
Her eyelashes form crescents on her delicate skin as she looks down. “I… I don’t mind you touching me.” She looks up at me, her eyes red-rimmed but clear. “I feel safe with you, Jorah.”
My heart squeezes in my chest. If only I could tell her the truth… but at this point, it’ll only hurt her. It’s better that she thinks well of Jorah, her one-time date, and never know Jordan the liar.