Not willing to leave yet, because even though she seemed self-conscious about being sweaty and in workout clothes, I thought she looked sexy as fuck, and I made no attempts to move. Instead, I walked towards her and once she realized I wasn’t heading to the door, she froze, letting her arm fall back to her side as her face grew serious. The flush that never seemed to leave her face flamed red again, and her chest rose and fell quickly the closer I got. Stopping directly in front of her, I repeated the motion she did with her hair, smoothing the untamed brick curls back before letting my hand trail down the side of her face and cup her cheek.
Liza drew in a breath, holding it in as I brought my face closer to hers. I wanted to devour her lips, which were pink and full without makeup, but I reined it in, pressing a gentle kiss to them instead. She didn’t kiss me back because, by the time her eyes showed recognition of what was about to happen, I was already pulling away.
We both stood there for a moment, the air seeming to have gone electric with just that small touch. I wasn’t able to move and it appeared she wasn’t either. Liza opened her mouth to say something just as the door to the apartment crashed open.
“Liza, I have to tell you what happened at…” Nicolette burst in, the rest of her sentence trailing off as she saw me standing there in front of her friend.
The interruption broke the trance we were in and Liza shook her head before stepping around me to greet Nicolette. I cursed the other woman in my head, wondering what Liza was about to say before we were interrupted, and turned around with a fake PR-type smile plastered on my face.
“What’s going on?” Nicolette asked, eyeing me with suspicion.
Liza shook her head again. “Nothing, Jackson was just leaving.” She waved her hand towards the door again, giving me a pleading look.
I nodded. “She’s right. I’m leaving,” I said, ambling towards the door.
“Oh, okay,” Nicolette answered us both, looking between us with questions in her eyes.
The women exchanged a look and Nicolette nodded slightly. “I’ll be in my room,” she added before walking away quickly, shooting us a backward glance as she went.
I grabbed the doorknob to the open door, stepping into the doorframe but not out. “What were you going to say?” I asked her quietly, in case her friend was eavesdropping.
Liza shook her head swiftly. “Nothing. It’s nothing. I’ll see you tonight.” She said it quickly and moved closer to grab the door, trying to push me out.
The change in her demeanor surprised me but maybe it was just because her friend came back and caught us just after a vulnerable moment. I decided to let it go for now, satisfied that when I had her alone later, I may be able to get it out of her.
“Okay. I’ll pick you up at seven,” I said before stepping all the way into the hall. She didn’t give me any other choice because she was closing the door on me as I was speaking.
“Okay. Fine,” she said, and closed the door in my face.
I stood there for a moment, feeling a bit off balance by the whole encounter. Liza wasn’t like any other woman I had ever dated, not that I dated many women for very long, and I couldn’t figure her out. Most of the women I dated—or slept with, rather—were clingy and chased me in a way that made it plainly obvious they were after my name and my money. Liza didn’t seem to care about any of that and she made it clear she would be happy to be rid of me for good. But I could tell she felt something for me, an attraction at least, and it wasn’t all one-sided.
It made no sense to me why she was fighting it so vehemently. Maybe that was why I felt the need to have her again, to prove to myself I could get her even though she clearly was trying to push me away. The idea helped me relax a little, and I blew out a breath as I walked out of the building and to my car. If I could have her one more time, the element of the chase would go away and I could move on. At least that was what I told myself as I drove away, refusing to look back at the building where the woman who could be my undoing lived.
“You agreed to do what?” Nicolette asked me, loudly, as she changed out of her dress and tossed it on a chair.
I sat cross-legged on her bed, my head in my hands as I spoke to her. After Jackson left, I wouldn’t tell Nicolette anything until after I showered. She followed me into the bathroom, peppering me with questions as I washed and dressed. I refused to answer her until I was clean and she refused to let it go until I answered her. Once I was done, I followed her into her room, sat on the bed, and spilled my guts as she changed her clothes.
“I know, I know. But what other choice did I have?” I said with my face in my hands, my voice muffled because I couldn’t look at her while I spoke.
“Uh, you could demand he get the photos back somehow,” she spat at me.
“But he said he couldn’t, Nic.” I finally looked up at her and she was glaring at me as if the whole thing were my fault.
“And you believed him? Dammit, Liza, I thought you were smarter than that,” she was full-on yelling at me now, and I put my head in my hands again because I had a feeling she was justified.
Nicolette moved around the room as I thought about what she said. I didn’t understand how he was so rich and apparently famous—by his own admission—but couldn’t stop a tabloid from running photos; especially since I never saw photos of him in any tabloid before this. It occurred to me just how naïve I had been to believe he couldn’t do anything about it.
“What should I do?” I asked her.
Nicolette had finished changing, wearing leggings and a big sweater, her hair thrown up in a messy bun, and was standing in front of me with her hands on her hips. She threw her hands up in frustration as she began to speak again, her tone curt.
“I don’t know, Liza. Go to the thing with him tonight and see if you can try to figure out if he’s lying. That’s the best advice I can give you at this point. Of course, after this, everyone will think you two are dating and none of it will matter.”
I groaned, throwing myself back on her bed and burying my face in a pillow. This was a disaster.
“How do I get myself into these messes?” I asked.
“I don’t know that either. But, can I tell you something else?” Nicolette asked, sitting next to me on the bed and patting my arm.
I rolled over and looked up at her, the concern evident in her eyes.
“Clearly you feel something for this guy or this wouldn’t have happened, but for whatever reason, you don’t want to pursue it. That’s none of my business but I want you to be careful. Don’t let him get to you, Liza, because I can see this going south quickly if you don’t take care with him. If you think you need to play this out his way to keep your job and reputation, fine, but don’t let him fool you and don’t fall for any more of his tricks.
“I think he could have made a call and had this all taken care of today but for some reason, he wants to keep seeing you. Guard your heart. I’ve dated too many men like this and they are all the same. They don’t care about how you turn out in the end.” Her face looked sad for a moment again before she patted my arm once more, got up from the bed, and walked out of the room.
Nicolette was right. I had been naïve and it wasn’t like me. Clearly, Jackson thought he was going to get something from me, what, beyond sex, I wasn’t sure. I lay there for a minute with my eyes closed, trying to think of a way out, but couldn’t see any other solution at this point. I’d have to let it play out the way he said. But I wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. If Jackson Radcliffe thought he could fool me into his bed again, he was sadly mistaken. At least, that was what I assured myself because I didn’t know if I’d be able to resist him once he was actually in front of me.
With a heavy sigh, I stood up and walked out of the room, following Nicolette into the kitchen. I stopped near the island, pulled a stool out, and sat down. Putting my head in my hands again, I thought for a moment.
“Well, since I have to go to this damn thing tonight, what should I wear?”
“Turn around and let me see the back?” Nicolette said with an exasperated sigh.
I was trying on the fifth dress from her closet and the second from mine. We went shopping, much to my dismay, right after we decided nothing in my closet was appropriate for a black-tie benefit. I, being the difficult person I was—Nicolette’s words—couldn’t find anything I liked except shoes, and Nicolette swore she had a dress that would match. Unfortunately, Nicolette was three inches, or more, shorter than I was and the dress was scandalously short. With only one hour left until Jackson was due to be here, I was still trying to find an appropriate dress to match the shoes we bought, and failing miserably.
“I don’t know, Nic, this one doesn’t seem formal enough,” I said as I spun around and glanced at the back of the dress.
It was long enough and black, which wasn’t really a problem, but the material was all wrong. This was more of a go-out-on-the-boardwalk kind of dress and not a formal-black-tie-benefit kind of dress. Like an obstinate child, I threw myself down on the bed and groaned loudly.
“What the hell am I going to do now? I don’t have a dress, my hair is a mess and I still haven’t put makeup on, and he will be here in less than an hour.” This was, by far, the worst thing I had ever agreed to do.
“Try on the original again,” Nicolette said, as she grabbed it from the pile I had on top of the desk chair in the corner of my room.
I shook my head. “I can’t wear that, Nic, not to something like this. The club, maybe, but not a black-tie event. My whole ass will be hanging out if I bend over.” I kept shaking my head to drive home the point.
Nicolette looked at me the way a mother looks at a naughty child. “Put it on, please, so we can see how it looks. One last time. Otherwise, you’ll have to go in jeans and a t-shirt.” She thrust the dress at me and I grabbed it from her outstretched hand reluctantly.
I pulled off the dress—which I had to remember she owned because it did look really great on me—and tossed it onto the pile before pulling on the other dress, again. It fit well everywhere, except the length. Nicolette and I were roughly the same sizes except for our height and usually, we could share shirts and the occasional dress. I turned around in the mirror, frowning at the back hem as it just skimmed below my butt, not even reaching mid-thigh.
“You do look really hot in the dress though,” Nicolette said.
“Be that as it may,” I said, my frown deepening, “I can’t wear a dress this short. Can I?” I added the last question because at this point, I was burned out on the whole process. “I’ve never been to any of these things, except that time when we were in college and you brought me to one for the children’s hospital, so I’m not sure what’s acceptable and what isn’t.”
Nicolette shrugged. “I mean, you can, but I’d try to not bend over or even squat down to pick anything up. Try to stand most of the time, except for dinner, and you should be all right.”
“Would you wear something this short to any of the benefits you attend?” I asked her as I turned back to the front, which didn’t look as bad with the length and wasn’t indecent before turning back around to look at the back with a frown.
“No, but that’s only because I usually only go to the children’s hospital benefits with my dad, and I can’t wear something that short around him or he loses his shit.”
My brain told me to just wear the damn dress and get the whole event over with, but common sense told me I’d likely end up flashing the whole place at some point during the night. With one last irritated look at the dress in the mirror, I slipped the shoes on, a beautiful pair of Louboutin’s in red sequins that seemed like they would be too over the top, except for when they were paired with the only dress on the planet that was too short for me. I almost shed a tear at how great they looked with the black dress, and knew Nicolette was right. I was running out of time and the dress and shoes looked great together, even though my ass was centimeters away from hanging out. Nothing else we had in the apartment would look this good and I was currently down to only forty minutes left to finish getting ready.
“All right, well, it doesn’t seem I have much choice, does it?” I asked her rhetorically.
Nicolette squealed and grabbed my hand. “I’m so excited for you! Let’s get your hair and makeup done.”
I rolled my eyes and grumbled through thirty minutes of primping. It wasn’t that I didn’t like getting dressed up and going out, Nicolette and I did it all the time, but I hated I was the one being fawned over. It made me uncomfortable.
“Okay, now you can look in the mirror,” Nicolette said, her hands clasped in front of her face anxiously.
She was too much sometimes. I kept telling myself it didn’t matter what I looked like because this wasn’t a real date, but on some level, I hoped I at least looked decent. Without fanfare, I turned around towards the full-length mirror in the corner. Shock was my first thought because I couldn’t remember a time when I ever did my makeup this well and amazement was my second because somehow, even though I had been doing my own curls since the sixth grade, Nicolette managed to tame them into a sexy mane of spirals, without a trace of frizz.
“How did you get my hair to look like this?” I asked her. Nicolette’s hair was stick straight.
“My grandma was a hairdresser and I used to watch her do clients’ hair in the basement of her house when I was little,” she said with a smile.
I turned to look at her, and not just her reflection in the mirror. “I have known you for six years and you are just now letting me know that you can do my hair better than I can?”
Nicolette laughed. “Well, you never asked. You’re very weird about your hair, you know.”
I nodded and didn’t argue. She was right. I wouldn’t let anyone touch my hair, not since my mother left us when I was eleven. There were reasons, but I never told anyone, and I didn’t want to tell Nicolette right now because thinking about my mother would ruin my night. I would just have to have Nicolette show me how to do it the way she did.
“We can talk more about it later, but I will need to know what you did and what products you used,” I said as I went back to stand in front of the mirror again with my whole outfit, makeup and all assembled.
She really did a great job with my hair and makeup, and the dress looked great with my new heels. My stomach fluttered as I wondered what Jackson would think, but I pushed the thought to the back of my head because it didn’t matter.
This wasn’t a real date.
“Of course,” Nicolette said, coming to stand behind me. “You look hot, Liza!” She added with a clap of her hands.
I wanted to ask her if she was sure because she was really making a big deal about nothing, but I didn’t because she went to a lot of effort for me and didn’t have to. Instead, I turned to her and gave her a tight hug. She hugged me back and when she pulled back, there were tears in her eyes.
“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m emotional about this,” Nicolette said with a sniff.
I chuckled. “It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize for that. You know I cry at Hallmark commercials.”
We both laughed again until we were crying from that as well.
“Now I’m going to have to fix your makeup again!” Nicolette scolded as she wiped mascara from under my eye.
“I’m fine. Jackson will be here soon and I have to prepare myself.”
I stood up from the bed, where we had collapsed when we were laughing, slipped my new shoes on again, and grabbed my little clutch bag. The urge to sneak another look in the mirror, just in case, was there, but I ignored it. If I didn’t look all right by now, then I wasn’t ever going to.
I headed towards the living room, willing the butterflies that were assaulting my belly to calm. This made no sense; it wasn’t a real date. I took a deep breath as I paced the living room, trying to appear calm but failing.
“Are you nervous?” Nicolette asked as she followed me out and went into the kitchen,
opening the cabinet to produce a package of microwave popcorn.
“A little,” I admitted. “I don’t know why, it’s not a real date.” I said the words I had been thinking over and over because I was trying to convince myself.
Nicolette shrugged. “Apparently your nerves don’t know that though,” she said with a giggle.
“I guess not. I wish I was staying home with you to eat popcorn and watch a cheesy movie,” I said wistfully because at the moment, I felt like doing anything but going on this “date.”
“It will be fine. Just remember what I said.” She nodded at me to drive the point home and I nodded back.
Just then the buzzer sounded, and my heart leaped into my throat.
“He’s here,” I said with an air of the ominous tone I hadn’t intended.
Nicolette laughed at my reaction and I giggled with her, though I felt like running to hide in my closet.
“Text me when you get there and have fun,” she said.
I bobbed my head in agreement and gave her a backward wave as I headed out the door, completely forgetting to buzz Jackson up. By that point, I was already outside and decided to head downstairs instead of going back. I took another nervous breath as I stepped into the elevator, my heart beating a mile a minute. The anxiety made no sense and I tried to push it down. It was no use, and my stomach fluttered without my consent, more than it had in the moments before.
I was having a hard time admitting to myself I was developing feelings for Jackson. It was nonsensical because I barely knew him and the more I suppressed my attraction to him, the longer I could pretend it wasn’t real. Something about Jackson Radcliffe made me wary of developing feelings towards him. The experience I had with him so far did not paint a great picture of his track record with women. Also, I was naturally guarded with my emotions because of my past, so letting him in was already difficult.
The elevator dinged to a stop and the doors slid open. I took another deep breath before stepping out, pressing a hand to my stomach to stop the somersaulting. The urge to turn around was strong but I walked forward, managing a “Good night” to the doorman as I ambled through the open door.
One Night Page 7