by Tessa Vidal
Mustering every ounce of professionalism I could, I stood and extended my hand to shake Dylan’s across my desk. “It is, yes. Welcome. What’s a nice fashion editor like you doing at a rival magazine like this?”
She took my outstretched hand, not shaking it so much as holding it. “I’m just checking out the competition.” The way she said “checking out” wasn’t at all subtle and I had to stop myself from taking a deep breath.
“I thought that wasn’t allowed.” I wanted to play coy, maybe bite my lip, but instead I told her, “I spoke with Paige. She told me you wanted my information.” As I said the words, I realized how ridiculous I sounded. Maybe Dylan didn’t want the things I assumed she wanted — dating, screwing, any other sex acts — with me. Maybe she really was here for professional reasons. It was a possibility.
“Is that so?” She finally let go of my hand and turned to glance around my office, which I thought might give me the chance to appraise her. Then she returned her gaze to me and her eyes heated when she looked me up and down.
The fact that she was so close had me wet with anticipation and my skin prickled with awareness. I imagined every inch of it was flushing pink under her steady gaze. Still, I cleared my throat and settled back in my chair, thankful my black slacks covered my legs.
“So, what can I do for you,” I asked. Trying to ignore the way she looked at me wasn’t easy, but I did my best. Normal people looked at each other all the time without thinking sexual thoughts. I could do this.
She shrugged and the movement lifted her chest a bit, so the subtle swell of her breasts showed just over the v-neck of her shirt. I loved that she was built so compactly and that the masculine-inspired clothing fit her body perfectly. Why did a woman like her have to exist? It was like she was created just to drive me crazy.
“I’m going to be completely honest. I wanted to see you, Sara. You didn’t give me much to go on the other night and I’m curious about you.” The way she said my name made my stomach drop. She might as well have ripped off my clothes for the reaction it caused in my body.
“I could probably get fired for having you in here, you know. They might think I’m letting you scoop us on something.” Trying to ignore the way my blood coursed through my veins was hard, but I tamped down every urge I had to leap across the space separating us to kiss her. To beg her to get me off then and there. Talking about the worst possible outcome did little to cool me off, though. “Did you think to maybe just call and ask me out, if you wanted to see me so badly?”
She looked mortified. At least, that was the impression I got when she quirked her lips to one side and her eyes went a little wider, as if no one had ever called her out before. “It did cross my mind, yes, but I thought you would most likely say no. You didn’t want to give me the time of day Saturday night. I figured if I sweetened the deal a little, maybe you’d be more receptive to my advances.” She put her hand in her pocket and then placed something on the desk. It clattered in front of me and I blinked at the object.
“This is the new Sephora,” I said, trying not to sound too excited. Of course they had it. After all, Dylan did work for the most popular fashion magazine in the world. But offering it to me was tantamount to treason. She’d be drawn and quartered with Hermes scarves and Chanel handbags if anyone knew.
“Yes, it is. Look, I’m sure you have plenty of options and you made it clear you don’t want to date me, but I wanted to try again.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have bothered, because I know dating isn’t what you had in mind,” I told her, hoping to soften the blow of my rejection. Even though I shouldn’t have felt bad, considering I knew what kind of woman I was facing in my office. “Besides, I’m not ready for anything remotely resembling a relationship. I’m a cocktail of ex-girlfriend drama and with your womanizing, it’s a recipe for disaster.” Being honest helped a little bit, even though my crazy heartbeat and the throbbing between my legs told a different story.
I’d spent all morning getting worked up about the idea of throwing caution to the wind and having a fling, and now I was backpedaling in the worst way when faced with Dylan. Why? Because, deep down I knew Paige was right. I wasn’t that kind of woman. I’d go into a one-night-stand with high hopes and get my heart broken in less than twenty-four hours. Not good.
“That’s too bad, but I get it,” Dylan said, her gaze not even meeting mine. “I guess I should get out of here before I get you into some kind of trouble.” Without another word, she strode to the door and was gone.
I stared after her far too long, chastising myself. I should have just accepted a date with her, because I had the feeling that wouldn’t be Dylan’s last attempt. Worse than that, I didn’t want to be around anyone who would make me think of her. No, I needed a way to get her out of my system and fast. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to say no next time.
Chapter Four
Dylan
“I think you just need to screw her adorable, curvy brains out,” Eve purred, striking a pose that thrust her bare breasts up in the air. That wasn’t easy to do with the hot water running over her body, but she made it work. Probably because she was one of the most sought-after models in the world. That kind of attention would stroke anyone’s ego.
I allowed a chuckle slip and shampooed my hair. The gym was my favorite place to go first thing in the morning, even on weekends. Even better was the sensation of a hot shower after a long, hard workout. Especially after hitting it extra hard. Every single part of me was sore and tingling, and no matter how long I stood in the hot water, I wanted more of that burn. A high intensity workout was even better with someone as driven as Eve as a gym buddy, but I had another workout buddy in mind. One I could focus other muscles on, preferably in a horizontal manner.
“Why are you doing this to yourself, Dylan?” Eve blew out a sigh of exasperation. “You could have any woman you want, anywhere, anytime. Don’t get upset about the one who won’t have you. Paige has already warned her about you.”
“Of course she has. And I know I could go out and pick up another woman like that, but I can’t explain it. Sara is different.” It was the lamest thing I could say, but the truth.
I’d already gone out and had sex with three different women that week, in a juvenile effort to prove to myself and to Sara that I didn’t need her. Too bad I wasn’t into it with any of them. I’d had to think about Sara, to close my eyes and picture her for it to work. Even then, I didn’t orgasm. Of course, I had the women screaming my name, but they weren’t the ones I wanted to hear.
Even though it pained me to say it, I blurted out, “I just need to talk to her again.” Jeez, I sounded desperate, and I was sure Eve was laughing at me, but too polite to let it show.
I turned off the water and reached to pull my towel off the nearby hook. It was Saturday morning and I hadn’t seen Sara since my misguided attempt to woo her at her office on Monday. At first, I thought that was for the best, but I’d been wrong. A week of trying to figure out what I wanted or needed from her hadn’t helped one bit. What was it about her? I already knew I couldn’t get over her by seeing other women. It had to be Sara, just Sara. For now.
As awful as I knew it was, I had to get her in bed with me. After that, she wouldn’t be this unattainable, soft-looking woman who made me want to wrap my arms around her or lose myself in her. She would be just another lovely notch on my belt and I could move on.
Eve let out another sigh behind me, still in the shower and apparently disgusted by my sentiments. “Look, Paige would kill me if I told you this, but I think I can help.”
****
EVE HELPED, ALL RIGHT, and now I hoped I wasn’t going too far to get what I wanted. Not that I’d ever worried about that in the past, but Sara had already established a line between us. A line I was about to cross.
It was a gorgeous spring day here in New York — sunny, just warm enough for a t-shirt, slightly breezy, perfect for a walk in Central Park.
Or, in Sara’s case, fo
r reading a book. I wished I could take my eyes off her, the way the vintage-style black dress hugged her voluptuous breasts and a waist I couldn’t squeeze between two hands if I tried. The dress flared out and spread on the park bench, painting a picturesque sort of scene. Hiding what I knew were soft thighs that needed my hands on them.
Her body was so damn fuckable, but I wondered if she knew that. She had curves, unlike most of the women in our industry. Curves I wanted to run my hands along in bed. Better still was the fact that she held a hardcover book with both hands, her gaze moving back and forth along the lines on the page. When I edged closer, I saw the title and couldn’t suppress a smile. Beauty, brains, and depth. Definitely not the kind of woman I normally wanted, but maybe that was why I wanted her.
I had to stop staring or I’d do this all day and get nowhere. So I clamped my lips together, inhaled through my nose, and approached her. Getting a date was the ultimate goal. I had to remember that.
She looked up when I was within a couple feet of her. At first, her eyes widened and her nostrils flared. I couldn’t tell if she was ticked off or merely surprised. “What are you doing here?” The curiosity in her voice was music to my ears. No anger in the question, thank goodness.
Since I couldn’t answer her question without telling on Eve, I ignored it and sat next to her on the bench. “I love spring in New York, don’t you?” I asked. “How was your week?” Glossing over our meeting in her office seemed like a good idea. I didn’t want to remind her of it, considering how presumptuous it was of me to go in the first place. The competition between magazines could be gracious or cutthroat, depending. I already knew my boss wouldn’t like it if she heard I made a little visit to the enemy.
“It was fine, thank you.” She glanced down at her book and then back at me. “Based on how persistent you are, I suppose I won’t be able to get rid of you, so I might as well ask the obvious question: do you like to read?”
I couldn’t believe she’d continued the conversation, given me something to work with. Even small talk was a way in with Sara. The way her eyes narrowed told me she was hesitant, but a thrill shot through my entire body.
This was it, the feeling I loved, the one I sought night after night by finding a new woman to take to bed. Somehow, chasing Sara around like a fool until she gave in made it that much sweeter. I wasn’t sure I could play it cool, now. I needed to feel more of this high and she was the only woman who could draw it out.
“I do,” I told her. “Though the stuff I like to read is probably pretty boring to someone holding a Marianne Williamson book in her hands.”
“What can I say? I like books about spirituality.” Sara didn’t sound at all apologetic and I tamped down the urge to tell her there was something charming about a woman in a 1950s-style dress reading a book that urged women to find the feminine in the divine. She reminded me of those cute, cool girls in teen movies — the kinds that worked in a library or played the drums, and was friend-zoned until the clueless best friend realized his gal-pal was so much better than the popular girl he was crushing on for an hour and a half.
“And I like history,” I told her. “But the boring history stuff, like why the War of the Roses happened. Enough about books, though. I have to say, I missed you this week. After seeing you on Monday, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
Sara closed the book, set it on her lap, and crossed her arms under her perfect, big breasts. She fixed me with an angry glare. It looked like her patience with me had thinned. “Somehow I doubt that.”
I forced a smile, hoping it looked natural. What was it about this woman that made me second-guess everything? “I needed time to reassess my approach to you, especially after making that huge mistake on Monday. Neither of our bosses would be impressed if they knew. In fact, I’m sure yours already does know.”
Sara gave me the side-eye and then lowered her gaze back to the ground. Tight-lipped, she curled her fingers over the top of the book in her lap. Without anything to go on, the next sentence rushed out of me.
“Look, I want to get to know you.” I reached out plucked the book out of her lap, careful not to even try to sneak a feel. The fabric of her dress slid like silk away from my fingers as I lifted the book. “I want to know about the woman who dresses like she belongs in a 1950s television sitcom and reads Marianne Williamson. Go on a date with me tonight. A real date. Not one that ends up with the two of us in bed.” It was difficult not to plead with her and I wasn’t sure my pride could take a third rejection.
Paige had warned her about me, according to Eve, which meant Sara expected me to be after the one thing I normally wanted out of a woman. Hence, the disclaimer about not trying to get her into bed with me.
Even though I barely touched her, I saw my proximity affected Sara. Her breathing sped up and her cheeks flushed. I was so close to getting what I wanted, and I knew she wanted me, too. And then she opened her mouth and the words I was hoping to hear tumbled out.
“One date is all you get. My boss hasn’t said a word about what you did on Monday, showing up like that. I don’t care to tempt her ire, but Paige is far worse. She isn’t going to be happy about this.” She lowered her gaze to her hands, folded in her lap where the book had been only moments prior. I watch her blonde ringlets blow to the side in the warm spring breeze, and then let my gaze fall to her round breasts. “Why do you have to be so bad for women, Dylan? I won’t sleep with you. All you get is a date.”
It sounded like a lie to me, especially since she was pulling her phone out of a tiny purse. I’d seen the way she flushed in my presence at least twice now. She wanted to have sex with me. She just refused to admit it.
“I’m going to ask Paige what she thinks.” The declaration made my heartbeat quicken. She’d said yes, but now she was about to destroy the moment by calling Paige.
“I’m here in Central Park with Dylan, who conveniently knew where I’d be sitting and she asked me on a date. Someone told her, so now you have to give me one good reason not to go out with her, or it’s a done deal.” She looked me right in the eyes as she said it and I stopped breathing.
Paige knew all the worst things about me, thanks to years of sleeping with the same women. I couldn’t let her ruin this for me, so I snatched the phone from Sara. Damage control was all I had on my side, now. “Paige, it isn’t like that. I want to get to know her. Just a date, nothing more, I promise.” Sara looked shocked, her hand still up where the phone was just moments before. But I couldn’t let Paige ruin this. Not now.
“She’s not the kind of woman you normally chase,” Paige said, exasperation heavy in her voice. “Jeez, Dylan. Aren’t there enough models or do we need to ship you to Europe to work through theirs, too?” I couldn’t blame her. She knew me better than any woman should. Maybe because she was one of the few left in New York City that I hadn’t had sex with.
“I like her because she’s not a model,” I answered and smiled for Sara’s benefit.
“That’s bullshit and you know it. Don’t break or heart or I’ll break your face,” was Paige’s response before the line went dead.
“Great. I appreciate that.” I handed the phone back to Sara, who eyed it as if it was diseased. “Paige is fine with a date.” The lie rolled off my tongue easily. I would have to call Eve and ask her to help with Paige for a few days, while I worked on getting Sara into bed. Once that was done, though, I’d have her out of my system and be back to normal.
“I guess we’re going on a date, then.” She put the phone back in her purse, rose to her feet, and took the book from where I’d left it on the bench. “You might as well know, the only woman I ever loved cheated on me. I found out about her affair while I was buying a stack of wedding magazines for...” She swallowed and shook her head. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me or anything. I just want you to know so you don’t expect much from me. If all you want is sex, maybe I can do it, maybe not. Maybe all you’ll do is make everything worse, but I don’t think I can tak
e back my yes without feeling bad.”
The idea that anyone could do something like that to sweet Sara made me want to find them and make them sorry they ever existed. Even though she said she didn’t want pity, there was a sadness in her eyes. Clearly, she wasn’t over it — or her — yet. I didn’t want to care, but I cared anyway. I wanted to know who the woman was, so I could size her up, and then make Sara forget her. At the same time, that revelation alone made me want to take back the entire conversation, because I knew what I would do to her. Dating me would mess her up even more.
“Remember where we met? I’ll see you there at eight tonight. It’s your only chance.” She sauntered off and I let her without a word, watching the way her curves moved beneath that black dress.
I’d come here with the idea of consuming Sara, of making her want me. The problem now was that I wanted her to turn the entire situation around.
Chapter Five
Sara
“Why does it matter if I have a date with Dylan?” I asked Jennifer. There were perks to having roommates in an expensive city like New York, like not having to be perpetually broke and hungry. This conversation wasn’t one of them. Especially since my roommate was standing in my bedroom wearing black lingerie and brandishing a riding crop.
She whipped the foot of my bed, the leather cracking through the air before it struck the mattress. Lately, she’d been going hot and heavy with Blair, the hostess at the nightclub. It was nice to see her happy, but this was a little over the top, even for Jennifer. As my southern grandmother would have said, “Bless her heart.”