by Beth Michele
Georgia’s eyes pop. “Yikes.”
The door opens, and Alec pokes his head in. “Lily, I need you to join us for the eleven AM in five.” His annoyance lingers, but it’s not directed at me. Lucky for him.
“Sure.” I stand, closing my computer and tucking it under my arm.
“Saved by the douchebag,” Georgia whispers, and I snort.
“I’ll catch up with you later.”
She gives me a pointed look. “You can bet your sweet ass you will. We’re not finished.”
Famous last words.
“So something did happen.” Georgia sips her dirty martini, gaze focused on mine as I fill her in on the sordid details. The hotel bar is fairly empty, giving us a chance to chat.
“Yes.”
She throws her head back and groans. “God, limo sex is so fucking hot.”
I glance around the bar. “Could you refrain from doing your best Meg Ryan impression please? And besides…” I add, a little quieter. “We didn’t have sex.”
She leans forward as if to tell me a secret. “I hate to break it to you, but eating pussy is still considered sex.”
I almost choke on my wine. “Have I ever told you you’re my crudest friend?”
“That’s why you love me the most.” A frivolous wave of her hand. “Now continue.”
I belt out an airy laugh then set my glass down. “Okay, yes, it was hot as hell, and so was he, but let’s face it, I’ve met hot guys before and it only goes so far. I don’t know…there was just something about him.”
“Like he’s richer than Rockefeller?” she says, giggling at her own joke.
“Corny, G, even for you.” I pop my fist under my chin and sigh. “He was just so…thoughtful, and incredibly charming.”
“Yes, you’ve mentioned charming a few times, and did you just sigh?” Georgia’s knowing grin strikes again. “Sexy, thoughtful, charming—sounds like the perfect storm.”
“Yes, the kind that blows in and out of your life and you never see again.”
She touches my arm, expression sobering. “Hey, he’d be a fool not to call you,” she says, frowning at my disappointment. “And if he doesn’t, fuck him.”
I pick my head up and dust myself off. “It’s fine. I’m good.”
“Oh, Lil.” There’s no judgment in her tone, only compassion. “How long have I known you?”
“Fifteen years.”
“Exactly. I know all the hurt points inside that five-foot-seven body of yours. I know you expect very little from people, but sooner or later, that’s going to change.”
I raise my glass, finishing off my wine. “I think I liked it better when you were talking about my secret garden.”
Georgia eyes me over the rim of her drink. “Speaking of…guess who had a threesome last night?”
“Damn it, I’ve always wanted one of those. You are such a floozy.” Then I edge closer and, in a conspiratorial whisper, add, “Tell me more.”
“You’ll never guess who it was with from finance.” She settles her drink on the bar. “This is the part where you guess,” she throws in when I don’t respond.
“No way,” I say with an adamant shake of my head. “I do not want to know. I’ll never look at them the same way again.”
The satisfied smile lifting her cheeks is ridiculous. “Fine, but it was amaaazing.”
My mouth falls open. “Really? Because the guys in that group always seem so—”
“Straight-laced? I know.” She fans a hand in front of her face. “But let me tell you, honey, there was nothing straight-laced about the way they worshipped me.”
“Did they…?”
“No, they didn’t fuck. It was all about me,” she says, a perma-smile affixed to her lips. “Don’t get me wrong, I would’ve liked to see them fuck, but they were too busy pleasuring me, and it was fucking incredible. I might do it again.”
“That was a lot of fucks in one sentence.” I grin. “Even for you.” The bartender nods toward my empty glass and I shake my head. “You never cease to amaze me, that’s for sure.”
“I like to keep you on your toes.” She wolfs down a couple of peanuts from a nearby bowl, and my mind stirs with thoughts of Jace.
“That you do, my friend. That you do,” I say, determined to ignore the way my stomach plummets with that familiar disappointment.
A muffled ring sounds from my purse and I hurry to answer. “Hello?”
“Hi Lil, it’s Rowan.”
My spirits lift. “Hey, buddy.” I elbow Georgia and whisper, “It’s your brother.”
“Of course you’re getting a call,” she grumbles lightheartedly. It makes me smile though. I’ve been close to her brother since he came into this world thirteen years ago at just twenty-three weeks gestation and weighing only one pound, six ounces. He’s a special kid and not a day goes by that we don’t realize what a miracle he is.
“Tell him it’s too late to be up and to go to bed.”
My laughter at her stern expression doesn’t help. “Your sister says it’s too late for you to be up.”
He groans. “I know, I know. I just wanted to thank you for the Marvel Lego set. It came in the mail today and I just finished putting it together.”
“You’re welcome. I’m so glad you like it.”
“Georgia said she’s going to drive up and take me to see the new movie in a few weeks. Will you come, too?” he asks, a hopeful note in his tone.
“I wouldn’t miss it. I’ll even splurge for the large popcorn.”
“Cool! Okay, I’m going to sleep now. Bye, Lil.”
“Bye, buddy. Sleep tight.”
Georgia pulls out her cell. “He shouldn’t be up this late on a school night.”
“Give him a break. He was excited and wanted to build his Lego.”
“Fine.” She types in the code to unlock her phone. “Since we can stay up late…” Her lips quirk. “Let’s go out tonight. There’s this bar called Unicorn that looks pretty cool. It has a carnival theme and an arcade, and you love carnivals,” she says with the prideful smile of someone who knows you like the back of her hand. “Look.” She turns the screen toward me, zooming in on pictures of the bar. “Super cool, right?”
“Very,” I say with a lot less enthusiasm. “But I’ve got a bunch of work to do tonight so I’m going to order room service and lay low.”
She rolls her eyes and adds a head shake for extra effect. “You’re raining on my parade—you know that, right?”
“Yup.”
“Come on,” she pleads with her best puppy dog eyes. “We’re in Seattle. We must enjoy.”
My purse is on my lap, and I slip off the stool then haul it up by the straps. “You enjoy. I’m going to my room.”
Her scowl makes me laugh. “Okay, fine,” she acquiesces, but I know I’m in trouble when a hint of mischief flickers over her face. “Should I send the finance duo to your room?”
“No.” I cringe. “And I don’t want your hand-me-downs, thank you very much.”
One blonde brow hikes up. “It’s on your bucket list.”
She’s right, and under different circumstances, maybe, but right now? My glare is filled with warning. “Georgia…”
A small pout. “Okay, okay, but tomorrow night we’re going out.”
“I’ll think about it,” I toss back over my shoulder, strolling toward the elevator. The only thing on my mind is a hot shower and that fuzzy robe hanging on the bathroom door.
All my other thoughts can go to hell.
There’s nothing better than lounging on a king-sized bed that makes me feel like I’m floating on a cloud. Relaxed from a hot shower and with room service on the way, I lean back on the mountain of comfy pillows. The plush robe hugs my skin in softness, and I let out a relaxed breath. It’s nearly perfect—or it would be if I could stop looking at my cell phone every two seconds.
Determined to ignore the dull ache in my chest, I open my laptop and get to work on the spreadsheets Alec is waiting for.
Part of me is tempted to Google a certain someone, but I refuse to be that girl, especially since my intention is to forget all about him.
“It was great while it lasted,” I say out loud, and then I hunker down and get lost in numbers and data. My stomach whines, reminding me my food should be here soon. Once again, the day was so busy I didn’t have time to grab lunch, and now I’m feeling it.
My phone chimes with a text and I nearly fall off the bed trying to retrieve it from the side table. When I glance at the screen, though, disillusionment finds its way to me. It’s only Georgia (Sorry, Georgia), and she sent me a picture. I punch in my code to see a selfie of her in front of the Unicorn sign.
three is definitely NOT a crowd. miss you!
I manage a smile while I type a quick reply then toss my phone on the mattress. A knock and an accompanying voice calling out “Room service” incites a joyful kick in my stomach. I slide off the bed, feet sinking into the lush carpet on my way to the door. The happy hotel employee on the other side somehow lifts my mood.
“Good evening. I have your room service order for you.”
“Thanks.” I hold the door open and he pushes the cart inside, waiting as I dig a tip out of my purse. While searching, my fingers skim the tissue-wrapped item I purchased yesterday. I tell myself to throw it away at the earliest possible moment. Then I hand him the bills. “There you go, and thanks.”
“My pleasure. Enjoy.” He nods and closes the door behind him.
The second he’s gone, I pluck the gift from my bag and promptly dispose of it in the fancy gold trash can beside the bed. I make a wiping motion with my hands and smile. “There.”
Now I can eat my dinner in a state of zen, which is good, because all I can think about as I roll the cart over and plop down on the bed is stuffing my face full of chicken parm and fries. A strange combination, but I was in the mood.
I remove the silver cover from the first plate, and I have to say, the chicken parm looks mouthwatering. Thick slices of melted mozzarella sit atop a chicken breast smothered with tomato sauce, the smell of garlic rising up from the dish. The second plate contains my fries, browned to crispy perfection and just how I ordered them. After all, if I’m going to waste the calories, they better be perfect. I won’t be wasting anything here, that’s for sure. I intend to eat every last morsel before I move on to the fudge brownie I ordered for dessert.
In between bite after delicious bite, I work on the expense spreadsheets, reconciling numbers until they’re finished and my eyes are beyond tired. Nothing like a little sugar to perk me up. I close my computer and set it aside to make room for my dessert, but when I lift the cover off, my brownie isn’t there. In its place are cookies in specialty wrapping. I blink, then blink again, because I recognize the packaging: Not Just Cookies. I don’t understand…until I see a little note card attached to a ribbon.
It’s been three days of nonstop insanity at work, but I can’t stop thinking about you. You and your damn cookies.
Hope you enjoy them.
Jace
I suck in a shocked breath, and then I’m smiling so big my face hurts. He sent me cookies, and not just any cookies, my favorite in the whole world. My hand goes to my chest in an attempt to stop my raging heartbeat—but then my mind whirs with questions. How does he know where I am? I didn’t tell him anything except that I was coming to Seattle. How did he… Then it hits me. Of course he knows where I am. I’m sure he has resourceful minions around every corner.
None of that matters, though. Everything inside me wants to squeal and jump on the bed like I’m twelve years old, but somehow I keep myself in check. Instead, I reach for my cell phone and pull up his number, trying to calm down as my fingers move across the keypad.
the cookies are perfect, thank you
I type and retype another message three times before I hit send.
I can’t wait to see you again
Crap. That sounded too eager, but hey, it’s the truth.
I wait for a response that doesn’t come, but he did say work was insane, and I do have cookies now, so there’s that. While I’ve got my phone in hand, I fire off a text to Georgia.
I have cookies
Georgia: I’m not sure what the appropriate response is here
LOL. they’re from Jace
Georgia: did he deliver them in person, naked?
NO
Georgia: too bad
ha ha
Georgia: I’m excited about your cookies, save me one, I’ll be starving after my all night adventures
you’re ridiculous. use protection
Georgia: thanks, Mom, and don’t worry, you know they have to wash their hands first
I’m laughing
Georgia: I know, my job is done here
have fun xo
Georgia: no worries about that. good thing he wised up, I know where he works, even if you don’t. LOL. enjoy your cookies xo
I drop my phone on the bed then tear open the pretty packaging. Delicious doesn’t even begin to describe the melted sensation when it hits my tongue, gooey chocolate mixed with hints of brown sugar and sweet butter.
I’m not done with the cookie when the desire to paint suddenly springs up along with a feeling I don’t recognize. Whatever it is, it sits like a weight on my chest. Hope, maybe? But I’m not very good at hope. I brush off the tingling and a few stray crumbs before swinging my legs over the side of the bed. The watercolor set and sketchbook I take with me whenever I travel wait for me on the chair. If I could bring a giant easel everywhere I go, that would be ideal. The thought of dragging it through the airport, bumping into random people along the way makes me laugh.
When I’m comfortable on the bed again, sketchbook on my lap and a small cup of water at my side, I start with slow brushstrokes. It’s not long before color bursts from the paper, bright oranges and fiery reds. It reminds me of how I feel when I’m with Jace—alive.
I want more of him. More of his mind. More of his body. I’ll never beg for affection, not anymore. However, I’m not above begging for his cock, as I’ve proven beyond a shadow of a doubt. From what I felt when I was rubbing against him like a lunatic, it was quite spectacular. Let’s face it, there’s nothing like the real thing. My little pink friend can only do so much, and since I didn’t bring her with me, I better put the kibosh on my wayward thoughts.
When I’m satisfied with my painting, I set it aside to dry and lie down on the bed. In no time at all, my eyelids are heavy and I can feel sleep coming for me. I’m not sure how long I doze before the chime of my cell wakes me. I’m going to kill Georgia. If this is more news about a threesome I’ll never have, she’s going to catch hell.
In my sleepy state, I fumble around for my phone then squint at the screen.
Jace: you awake?
It’s amazing how quickly my haze clears. I push myself up to a slouched position and flick on the lamp.
I am now. hi
Jace: hi yourself
I smile.
Jace: I’m sorry to have woken you
I glance at the time: one AM.
it’s okay, who needs sleep anyway
Jace: lol, you must be pretty tired
yes, long day
Jace: do you think you’re too tired to come open the door?
the door?
Jace: yup
my hotel door?
Jace: I certainly hope it’s your door
Holy shit. He’s here?
I bolt off the bed, opening said door before I realize I’m still in my robe and probably have drool at the corner of my mouth. All of that is forgotten when I see Jace, one arm leaning casually against the wall, his rumpled suit and hair the best thing I’ve seen all day—or all morning, in this case. Blue eyes crinkle with his smile.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
Words freeze on my tongue. Disbelief that he came—for me—leaves me stunned silent.
His lips form an all-too-pleased grin. “Why, Miss Conrad, I believe I’v
e left you speechless.”
“I just, I…I don’t understand. I thought you were in Canada.”
He doesn’t move yet somehow he’s closer, touching me in ways that shouldn’t be possible. “I was. I am,” he corrects. “But I couldn’t go another day without seeing you.”
A strange sensation whirls around in my stomach and I’m unable to hold back. “You came…for me.” It comes out more like a question, and he doesn’t miss it. I would imagine Jace Harlow doesn’t miss much.
“I’m not sure why that surprises you. I think I made it pretty clear back in New York. Maybe I need to be more transparent.” He takes one step closer. “I don’t fly across the country to see everyone. In fact, this is a first for me.” His eyebrows draw in and he shakes his head as if he can’t believe it himself. “I just…I had to see you. I kept picturing your smile, your laugh…” Amusement plays at the corners of his mouth. “Your cookies.” He holds out his arms in offering. “So here I am.”
“Hmm.” My head slants to the side, a smile spreading across my face. “My cookies, huh?”
“Yes.” His gaze travels the length of me and I shiver. “Among other things.”
I step aside and he walks in, that familiar scent of ocean waking me, rousing my senses. My body comes alive, that need resurfacing. Unfortunately, my brain has other ideas, words tossing around that won’t be denied. Honesty is something that comes easy for me, a fact I’m proud of, and I want to keep to who I am. I’ve always had an issue with women who change for men, who act differently to snag a guy. I’m not that woman. I’ll never be that woman.
He stands a few feet away as if he recognizes I need space. Little does he know, I want to lunge for him, wrap him up in my arms, and keep him here a while longer. It’s way too soon for a thought of that magnitude, but it doesn’t stop my overactive brain from thinking it.
“I’m not used to people showing up for me,” I admit, holding my head higher. “I’m used to empty promises.” My gaze drops before meeting his eyes. “So I don’t expect much. That way I won’t have to deal with disappointment.” He opens his mouth, but I shut him down with more truth. “Unfortunately, it’s instinctual for me. I guess you could say it’s my self-preservation instinct. It kicks in whether I want it to or not. To be honest, I didn’t expect to see you again, but I’m sorry I made assumptions. It wasn’t fair.”