by Romi Hart
“How about some coffee?” he asked, breaking the silence that loomed between them.
Reesa bit her lip to hide her grin. “Does every New Yorker have to be a coffee addict?”
“Everyone in Seattle is,” Marc countered, just as taunting. “Besides, you can have coffee, tea, soda, a shake, whatever you want. You name it, it’s yours.”
That was quite an offer. Damn, she had to stop thinking in that vein! It wasn’t an innuendo. He was just talking about getting something to drink in a quaint little coffee shop, a public place where he could pretend to be a gentleman while she pretended to care.
Maybe she should have gone a different route. Who would have really cared if she acted like some wanton one-night-stand? The answer came immediately – she would care. It wasn't Reesa's style, and she had no intention of changing who she was just because some devastatingly hot guy stepped into her life. Or because she would be the envy of everyone around.
Realizing she’d stayed quiet longer than she meant to, she cleared her throat and told him, “Actually, I happen to be a coffee fiend, so that works for me.”
"Great! I thought we might hit Greggory's, if that's okay with you." She nodded, seeing relief on his face. "Truthfully, I just flew in earlier today, and I've got really bad jet lag. I could use the caffeine."
He meant it, too, ordering a cappuccino with a triple shot of espresso. “Sounds good. I’ll have the same,” she told the barista.
Marc raised an eyebrow at her. “You do drink a lot of coffee, don’t you?”
“Watch this,” she told him and produced two full reward cards, getting both of their drinks for free. With a triumphant smile, she said, “Now, I feel better about the sweater.” Taking her cup while Marc grabbed his, she followed him, surprised when he chose a small table right at the window. “You don’t mind people seeing you and coming to get autographs?”
He shrugged. “There aren’t that many people who recognize me. And the point of sitting here is to be seen with you because you catch every man’s eye who walks by you.”
She could feel the heat in her throat and cheeks, a deep flush, as she turned away from him. Reesa focused on her coffee, not sure she believed him but not really wanting to find out if she did draw that sort of attention, either. "You shouldn't be embarrassed of a compliment." He spoke softly and reached across the table, taking her hand again. She told herself she let him because her fingers ached with cold when, truthfully, his touch heated every part of her in a way that had nothing to do with external temperatures.
Rather than respond, she took a deep breath and changed the subject to something she knew would get him talking. “So, tell me about the team. I don’t really follow soccer all that much, but I know the Sounders have a very loyal fan base.”
She'd chosen well. Marc grinned broadly and launched into a lively explanation of his teammates, the sport, the coaches, traveling, and everything soccer. Reesa found herself engaged in the conversation, too enthused by his contagious energy to sit back and just listen. She was almost reluctant to finish her coffee, not quite ready to call it a night and knowing she needed to head home from here. Friday nights didn't necessarily have to end early, but she didn't want to find herself out late with someone like Marcus Winters. She tended to grow more impressionable as it grew later.
When she couldn’t stretch it any further, she drained her cup and noticed that, despite all the talking, Marc had finished his long ago. His eyes twinkled as he watched her frown at the empty paper cup. “Did you want another one?”
Reesa seriously considered it, but she shook her head. “No, if I have another, I’ll never get to sleep tonight.”
“There’s always decaf,” he said in a sing-song voice.
She couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re a bad influence. Thanks, but I really should get home. I have an early meeting with a client tomorrow.”
He nodded, looking reluctant. “I’ll get a cab then and take you home.” He gathered the trash and walked her to the door, a hand at the small of her back guiding her. A shockwave of pleasure coursed up and down her spine, making her lightheaded and tightening things low in her belly. For the hundredth time tonight, she cursed her traitorous body for reacting to him.
Marc had no trouble flagging down a taxi. "174th and Grand Concourse,” she told the cabbie as she scooted across the seat so he could climb in.
“You live in the Bronx?” he asked.
She nodded. “I like the neighborhood. I came from humble beginnings, and Brooklyn’s gotten a little rich for my blood. Where do you live?”
“Central Harlem,” he told her.
It surprised her. “I pictured you as a Midtown or Washington Square sort of guy.”
He chuckled. “I’m not spoiled. I’m reasonable. And like you said, I like the neighborhood. When I’m in New York, I want to feel at home. I have too much traveling to do to want to live anywhere I don’t feel at home.”
They grew quiet, and Reesa stared out the window, deep in thought, letting Marc absently toy with her fingers on the seat between them. She had trouble trying to determine just how she’d gotten here, in a cab with one of the country’s most eligible bachelors, headed toward her apartment. This didn’t add up to her usual MO, and she couldn’t reconcile her behavior with the way she felt about men like Marcus Winters.
Then again, he didn’t seem so bad after all, but he was on his best behavior, she was certain. In fact, that was probably the only assurance she had about anything that had happened since he first walked up to her in the bar. Nothing else made much sense, and for a moment, she let herself live in the euphoria of it all, the joy of being a woman sought after by a rich, handsome, famous man. She’d come back to her senses when she got home.
They reached her apartment all too soon, and Reesa didn’t miss the large tip Marc gave the driver. She pointed to the brick façade across the street. “That’s me.”
“I’ll walk you up,” he said before she could say her goodbyes. For some reason, her stomach clenched, and she wanted to tell him she could go by herself. But when had she last allowed someone to walk her up to her place? It was a kind gesture, and she knew she’d just feel lonely and anxious until she made it into her place if she walked away now. it was stupid to drag this out, but she wasn’t ready to let the illusion go just yet.
He took her hand, letting her guide him across the street and into the building, where she debated whether to take the stairs to the third floor or wait for the elevator. The door slid open, her upstairs neighbor smiling at her and tipping his ball cap as he got off, and she shrugged, figuring she might as well take the elevator.
The close quarters had her heart pounding as Marc’s scent filled the air, his nearness making the small space hot. Or maybe it was just her. Somehow, she gravitated toward him, and he slid an arm around her waist, pulling her closer still. Her lips parted, her breath coming in short, shallow spurts, and she tilted her head back to find him lowering his, lips poised an inch from hers.
An intense yearning filled her, and Reesa pushed up on her toes, bridging the gap. His lips were soft, and she could smell the coffee on his breath. She moaned and pulled away, but Marc chased her, kissing her again. This time, there was urgency in the contact, and Reesa’s back hit the wall, pinned by Marc’s hard body. She squealed but not in protest, her chest heaving against his as her heart tried to escape her ribs and her lungs begged for air.
But she didn’t fight, the sensation overwhelming and delicious as his tongue licked a line over her bottom lip. She opened to him, sighing as their tongues touched, savoring the taste of cinnamon and spice and bitter coffee. Of their own volition, her fingers found their way up to thrust into his hair, fisting in the silken locks, while his slid down to cup her butt, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure. He pulled her hips forward, grinding an obvious erection into her pelvis with a grunt. God, she wanted him!
The elevator door slid open, and the spell broke. Reesa gasped and ducked
from under his embrace into the hallway, trying to catch her breath and knowing her face must be bright red. She felt like she was on fire, and yet, all the color seemed to have drained from Marc’s face as he followed her out.
They stood there, staring at each other for a long time before Reesa cast her glance to the side, unable to handle the intensity of his gaze any longer. Her embarrassment overwhelmed her arousal, and she bit her lip, instantly regretting it as the taste of Marc's lips hit her once again. He finally spoke into the silence, his voice gruff and ragged. "I hope you aren't angry with me."
She gave an airy laugh, her heart still racing and her head swimming. What had just happened? “How can I be mad at you? I kissed you first.” Taking a chance, she looked up from under her lashes and saw his green eyes still darkened with desire. “Listen, it was a heat of the moment thing, okay? I apologize. And I also digress. You’ve been a perfect gentleman all night, as promised, and you’ve proven you aren’t some caveman with no moral ground.”
A wry smile crossed his lips. “I guess I can take that as a compliment, under the circumstances.” He held out his hand. “Can I walk you to your door now?”
She didn’t want to reach out to him. Her hands trembled, and she couldn’t let him see that. Gathering her strength and resolve, she forced her fingers to still and wrapped them around his, walking the short distance to her apartment. Digging out her keys, she turned to him with a hesitant smile. “Thank you for a nice evening and the lovely sweater.”
“And thank you for the pleasure of your company.” Reesa could feel Marc’s disappointment, see it in his eyes, but she gave him credit for not pushing anything. She thought he would turn away, but instead, he pulled his phone out of his back pocket. “Would you be willing to give me your phone number? I’d like to see you again.”
This was a bad idea. Then again, it didn’t really matter, did it? Marcus Winters could have any woman he wanted, and he spent so much time away from New York he’d never call her. She’d just be another name and number in his phone. Shrugging, she gave him the number.
He leaned in and kissed her on the forehead, and Reesa fought the temptation to tilt her head back and get one more kiss out of him. Drawing back his crooked smile curled his lips and placed that single dimple in his cheek. “Maybe next time, we can go to my place. I live on the eighth floor. It’ll give us a little more elevator time for the heat of the moment before you run from me.”
Righteous indignation removed the last vestiges of arousal that lingered in her blood, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Look, Marc, I had a nice time with you, but don’t get the wrong idea, okay? I wish you the best and good luck with the game.”
Both eyebrows hit his hairline. “You don’t expect to hear from me again, do you?”
Reesa shrugged carelessly. “It wouldn’t be the first time a guy took a number and never used it. Besides, you’re a busy man.”
His smile faded, and his jaw muscle twitched. She’d wounded his pride with that statement, and for some reason, she felt a little guilty for it, even if Marc deserved to have his ego a little deflated. “We’ll see about that,” he said in a somber tone. “I’m not every other guy, and you’ll learn that, eventually.” He ducked his head, pressing a firm kiss to her lips that left her shocked and appalled, and then he headed down the stairs without another word. Reesa reached up, pressing her fingers to her lips where they stung and ached for more, and then she stomped her foot like an upset child before unlocking her door and slamming it shut behind her. Thank goodness this was a one-time thing. She didn’t need temptation and drama in her life today. She’d had enough of that for all eternity.
2
Reesa pushed the rice around on her plate with her fork as Kylie gaped at her. “I can’t believe you didn’t invite him in! You obviously had chemistry.”
She should have kept some details a secret, she realized too late. "What's the point? So he can put another notch in his bedpost?"
“And you’d have a glorious one to add to yours!” Kylie burst out, exasperated. “Come on, Reesa, it’s Marcus Winters, for crying out loud. You could have put an actual notch in that headboard of yours and had him autograph it.”
Unable to hold back a laugh at the outrageous idea, Reesa shook her head. “Yes, it was Marcus Winters. Yes, there was chemistry. But that’s not enough reason to drop my panties on a dime.” Or a thousand of them, since the sweater she wore cost closer to that much. “Look, we had a good time, and in another life, we might have been friends. Admittedly, even I got a little lost in the fantasy. But that’s not who I am or want to be, Kylie. It’s not like I’ll ever see him again.” She thought back to his words, his claims he would prove her wrong. Well, she’d put Kylie off for two days before inviting her friend over for dinner, and she hadn’t heard a single word from him. So much for that claim.
“You overthink everything,” Kylie complained with a sigh. “You should live in the moment every once in a while. Let your guard down.”
Reesa shivered. She’d done that before and had the emotional scars to prove it. She opened her mouth to protest, but her phone rang, cutting her off. She scowled. “Either that’s Jamie calling to tell me the movers are coming to get rid of her old furniture tomorrow, or it’s Charlie Hunnam fulfilling my fantasy instead of yours.” Kylie laughed as Reesa dug her cell out of her purse. She didn’t recognize the number, but that didn’t matter. Maybe it was a client referral.
Clearing her throat, she answered in her best professional tone, “Reesa Brighton speaking. How may I help you?” Kylie rolled her eyes, and Reesa stuck her tongue out in a juvenile gesture.
“It already helps to hear your voice.” The rich, smooth baritone nearly knocked Reesa off her feet, and her eyes widened, her heart palpitating and her head spinning.
She bit her lip, glancing out the corner of her eyes at Kylie. “Marc?” Kylie squealed and slapped her hand over her mouth to cover the sound at Reesa’s warning glare. “This is…unexpected.”
“I told you I was going to call you. You really didn’t believe me.” He chuckled softly, and she sturdied herself against the chill of pleasure that crawled up her spine. “I hope maybe now your opinion of me will improve.”
Swallowing her pride and wishing she was alone, she replied, “I don’t have a problem with you specifically, Marc, and I appreciate that you’re a man of your word. But you haven’t told me why you called.”
“Fair enough. I called because I wanted to thank you for a lovely evening.”
“Three days later?” she asked, a little snippier than she meant. She turned her back to Kylie, who motioned to her about what she should say or do. “If you really had such a wonderful time, why wait?”
He didn’t answer at first, but finally he said, “I thought you could use the time and space to make up your mind about me. I didn’t think I’d have much luck calling you and asking to see you again right away.”
Smiling to herself, Reesa shook her head. “Probably a good judgment call, unless you’re a glutton for punishment. So, you really want to do this?”
“Do what, ask you out again? I’m a pretty confident man, Reesa. When I make up my mind about something, I typically know I want to follow through. I picked up the phone knowing I wanted to hear your voice and try to convince you to see me again. I hoped I might catch you before dinner tonight.”
“You’re shit out of luck on that one. Sorry,” she told him. “I just finished eating.”
“My loss then,” he said, but he didn’t sound disappointed. “Then maybe you can come to the scrimmage tomorrow, and then I can take you to dinner. You can sit up in the box with all the most important people, and then I’ll take you out wherever you like for dinner.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Anywhere, huh?”
“Anywhere at all.”
“And what if I want to come home alone and eat?” She waved Kylie away as her friend approached and started waving and shaking her head wildly. “Would you be ok
ay with that?”
“I’d be disappointed, of course. But if that’s what you really wanted, I’d do it. I told you, I’m a gentleman at heart. I’m not going to push you to do anything you don’t want to do. I let you make the first move, didn’t I?”
Reesa winced at the truth of his words. She couldn't doubt him. In all fairness, he'd done exactly as he promised, all the way around. It terrified her to think about going out on what amounted to a real date with Marc, but a part of Reesa yearned for a chance to truly adult. Outside of work, she did very little adulting, aside from going to a pub for a drink with Kylie now and then. It might do her some good to expand her horizons, even if that meant seeing Marc again.
Besides, he was pretty easy on the eyes.
“You’re too quiet. Are you trying to find an excuse not to come?”
She could easily say no, give him any reason in the world. It didn't have to be true or even make sense. But Reesa found herself warming up to the idea. "Tell me about the scrimmage," she hedged. "I thought this was the offseason."
“It’s a charity function. We’re playing the New York FC to raise money for the Children’s Cancer Foundation. I thought you might appreciate coming to this particular game more than others.”
She could hear the pleasure in his voice at his sneaky little urging, the teasing lilt telling her he knew she couldn’t turn him down now. “Well, now, that does sound like fun. I guess I could show up for that.”
“And dinner?” he asked, his tone hopeful.
“We’ll see how it goes. Is that good enough?”
“I guess it has to be.” He fell silent, and she wondered if he’d hung up. Then, in a low voice she could barely hear, he added, “You should know I’ve been thinking about your lips since I walked away from you, and I might have an urge to satisfy my craving.”
Reesa gulped back a moan. She couldn’t lose control in front of Kylie, and she didn’t want to encourage Marc any further. In a strained voice, she told him, “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”