Jake: Meet me at Edge. Here’s the scenario. We’re lovers, and we haven’t seen each other in a month.
* * *
Kate: Does that mean we’ll be climbing each other in seconds?
* * *
Jake: No, because we have to stay there until the check comes. How long can you last—that is the question.
He waited at the bar, drinking a scotch and looking insanely sexy with his dark hair, his five-o’clock shadow, and a button-down shirt that I wanted to rip off.
Or maybe he looked insanely sexy because of how he stared at me.
With hunger and with need. With dirty intent.
But with a little something else too.
Something tender.
Something that, if it was anything like what was happening to me, felt a little bit like falling.
That was what I was feeling for Jake Hamilton.
I walked over, licking my lips, savoring the sight of my man. As soon as I reached him, I went for it, pressing a kiss to his lips.
“It’s been too long,” I whispered.
“I couldn’t agree more,” he said, sliding a hand around my waist, grazing lower, squeezing my ass.
“Let’s get out of here,” I murmured, my skin heating in mere seconds from his touch.
His other hand traveled up my arm, along the back of my neck and into my hair. Tugging on my strands, he said, “But I have to take care of the check.”
I arched into him. “Then you can take care of me.”
“You bet I will,” he growled, jerking me closer, sliding my body between his spread legs so I was pressed against the heavy weight of his erection through his slacks. I moaned as I felt his length, wanting him inside me.
He pulled me closer, knowing it was driving me wild to be this near to him. Lowering his head, he whispered in my ear, “I bet others are watching us.”
“What do you think they’re saying?” I asked, breathless, loving this new direction.
“They’re saying, ‘He’s going to take her upstairs and strip her to nothing in ten seconds flat.’”
I wriggled against him, aching. “They’re saying, ‘Doesn’t it look like she’s desperate for him?’”
“They’re imagining I’m going to take you against the wall. They’re betting as soon as the door closes, I’ll hike up your skirt, tug down your panties, and slide my rock-hard cock inside you.”
Lust slid down my spine as a shudder wracked me. “And I’ll ask for deeper, harder, more.”
“And I’ll give it to you that way. Because I love nothing more than giving you all the pleasure in the world.”
I ran my hands through his hair. “And I love it when you do.”
Ten minutes later, the door to the room banged shut as Jake unzipped his pants, yanked up my skirt, and pushed inside me.
I cried out in absolute bliss.
This was the true decadent gift—this wicked, sinful indulgence as he took me to the ends of pleasure, sending me to ecstasy.
But what made it even better was what came next.
After, as we stumbled to the bed, wrapped up in each other, I ran my hands over his chest and said the hardest and easiest thing of all. “I’m falling in love with you, Jake Hamilton.”
He pressed a kiss to my lips. “I’m falling in love with you too.”
I was choosing to trust. Choosing to love. Choosing to take a chance.
That was the gift I gave myself.
26
Trish
“That worked out quite well, I think,” I told Christine, the pulsing music in the club covering our self-congratulations. Tonight, my dear friend and I celebrated a project that only affected a beloved few, but this city’s boys’ club mentality assumed the only plotting we ladies were up to was shoe-or-accessory related.
As if.
Christine raised her glass of champagne in a toast. “To brilliant ideas.”
I clinked my glass against hers. “To brilliant partnerships.”
“To brilliant women.” She lifted her glass once more and took a deep drink.
I sipped the bubbly, grateful for friends like Christine Hamilton-Carey, and like Ivy Carmichael, who’d passed on a little tidbit about how happy Kate had seemed on Saturday night with her “friend.”
A sexy man-friend who’d made her smile.
And I was glad of that.
I set my drink down with a knowing smile. “None of this subterfuge would have been necessary if they’d simply admitted that we always know what’s best.”
We checked out the scene at Edge from the lounge, where we were set up with a chilled bottle of bubbly and more breathing room than there was at the bar.
Christine shook her head. “So stubborn. It’s a good thing we are benevolent fairy godmothers.”
We toasted again and debriefed the last few weeks. For some time, I’d been watching Kate, my brilliant, irreplaceable Kate, peddling for all she was worth just to keep from losing ground on the mountain of trouble left by her last relationship. I could sense she was on the cusp of burning out, and I knew with a little help she could get over the hump. I’d made sure she was well paid for everything she did, but Sin City Escorts was an opportunity for me to give Kate the opportunity to gain traction with a hefty bonus. Was it on the generous side? That didn’t matter nearly as much as the risk of losing her.
I wanted her to have everything she wanted in life because she was valuable to me. Not just for the business. She had a brilliant insight into people and what they wanted, what motivated them, but she was a kind, hardworking, honest woman who didn’t deserve what her horrible ex had done to her.
But I didn’t just want her to be able to pay off her debt. I wanted her to be happy.
And that was where Christine’s brother had come in. I’d had a feeling about him.
Not that kind of feeling.
A feeling that had come from watching Kate when her group of friends made plans that included that man.
Christine crossed her legs. “You are a genius, Trish. There’s nothing I want more than to see my little brother happy.”
I arched a brow. “And what about you, darling? What are you going to do about you being happy?”
Christine simply shrugged. “Someday I’ll find love again. When it’s the right time, I’ll feel it.”
But love took more than a feeling, and it definitely took more than waiting around for “someday.” If my friend didn’t show some initiative, I would have to show some myself and find someone for her too. I’d already outlined a plan for just that possibility.
Sipping my champagne, I asked, “Have I ever introduced you to Daniel, my driver?”
“Your driver?” she asked, as if that was so incredible.
“Don’t be a snob, darling.”
Christine all but choked on her bubbly. “That’s not what I meant.”
I knew it wasn’t, but I also knew she’d want to prove it and not reject the idea without consideration.
“He’s quite handsome. He’s friendly. His dog can ride with him on his motorcycle, which is too adorable for words.”
“Apparently it isn’t, since you have so much to say about it,” she said with a bit of a smirk.
“He also owns the limo company.”
“If he’s all that, why don’t you keep him for yourself, hmm?”
I smiled because she hadn’t yet offered a real objection. “You know he’s not my type,” I said.
Christine patted me on the knee. “I know he’s not.”
She kicked her foot some more, watched the crowd, sipped her champagne, and I waited, doing much the same thing, but without making a silent pro and con list at the same time.
Finally, she drained her glass, and said, “All right, I’ll do it.”
“What was that?” I asked, cocking my ear her way. “I’m right, and you’ll do as I say?”
She pretended to aim the very pointy toe of her pump at my shin, but of course her heart wasn’t in it. “I said I’ll meet your driver
. You should be more gracious in victory.”
“I know,” I said solemnly. “Since I have so much practice at being right.”
And I would be right about Daniel and Christine too. She, like the other women we had cultivated friendships or mutual interests with, did so much for so little credit. She deserved to be happy, and I had a feeling about Daniel.
Later, with a glow of satisfaction, I headed home. Annabelle was waiting for me to fix her supper, and there would be no snuggles if I came in too late.
Well, there would be snuggles eventually. Annabelle never held a grudge for long. That was the lovely thing about rescue spaniels. Nothing was so bad that a bowl of kibble and some tummy rubs couldn’t fix it.
Humans could take a lesson from that.
27
Christine
I should never have said yes to the date.
Why did I say yes to this date?
Because of Trish. Because of Trish and her damn skill for persuasion.
I’d been on dates since Richard passed. Only two, but they stuck out like twin sore thumbs in my memory.
The first one, I’d started crying midway through the first drink. That was great.
The second one, well, there just hadn’t been that spark.
Translation: the date was a dud, and I couldn’t blame the guy.
Even though I couldn’t remember his name.
But going 0 for two was enough to make me think I wasn’t going to feel that spark again. I wasn’t hung up on Richard. I’d mourned, I’d grieved, I’d gone to therapy. And with a lot of work, I’d been able to say goodbye. So it wasn’t that I was hung up on him. Richard would’ve wanted me to date again. He’d even said so when he was first taken ill.
So perhaps the fault was mine.
The lack of spark was on me.
Maybe I didn’t have it in me to go through it all again.
A heart that wasn’t up for another beating.
Even if Trish convinced me to focus solely on the fun side of this date.
It’ll be terrific! You’ll get back out there! Trust me.
I just needed to get dressed. It was just a date, after all. Just fun. I needed to just get dressed and get it over with.
On the bathroom vanity, my phone buzzed. I grabbed it as I held the towel closer around my breasts.
And of course it was Trish. She could sense me giving up from a mile away. I swear the woman had friend radar. She was so damn sharp. She always knew when I needed a pick-me-up.
* * *
Trish: I’m waiting for an outfit pic. Can you see me twiddling my thumbs?
* * *
Christine: No. I don’t have bionic vision.
* * *
A few seconds later a gif arrived of a woman twiddling thumbs. I knew an order when I saw one. But even so, I wasn’t quite ready to follow it.
* * *
Christine: Confession: I can’t do this.
* * *
Trish: Truth: Yes you can. Send the pic.
* * *
I glanced at the dress I’d laid out on my bed. It was tight and hugged me in all the places I liked. Plus, the pretty blue that perfectly matched my eyes.
The dress was ready for the date. But, was I?
* * *
Christine: What if it’s terrible?
* * *
Trish: The outfit or the date?
* * *
Christine: Both.
* * *
A series of dots appeared as I waited for her response. Then, a message appeared that made me laugh in a way only Trish could. She was taking my worries step by step. Just like her.
* * *
Trish: Let’s start with the outfit. We can tackle world issues next.
* * *
Time to say fuck it to nerves.
This was it. No more second-guessing.
Just do.
I slid on the dress and headed for the inner sanctum – my shoe shelves.
After digging through piles of tennis shoes and reasonable heels for work, I fished out a pair of stilettos. Then I paused when I spotted a pair of basic black pumps. Should I go with something more sensible?
Nope, this wasn’t a night for business meetings.
This was a night for possibility.
Stilettos for the win.
Red. High. Daring.
After all, maybe the shoes would deactivate the nerves.
It could happen. Shoes had been known to possess superpowers.
I snapped a selfie in the mirror and sent it off to Trish. Almost immediately, several enthusiastic fire emojis landed on my screen.
* * *
Trish: Daniel’s dead. He won’t be able to handle how hot you are!
* * *
Christine: Have I told you that I’m keeping you forever as a friend?
* * *
Trish: I know you are.
* * *
Turning, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I had to admit, the dress did look great on me. Even before I’d had Carson, I’d always had a good ass. Lucky that way, I suppose. Tonight, my booty was emphasized in a way that even upstaged my magical yoga leggings.
I imagined Daniel seeing me in this dress. Where would his eyes go first? Would he be one of those guys who didn’t even bother to look at your face? Who surveyed your assets?
And more to the point, where would my eyes travel on him?
I’d seen Daniel before on the occasional limo ride with Trish, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t noticed the sharpness of his jawline and the way his green eyes danced in the rearview mirror when he looked back at me.
Was that why I’d given in to Trish? No, it was more.
Trish had a special talent for people. An eye for connection.
I hoped, against all odds, she might be right about Daniel and me.
I looked in the mirror again. I swiped on a red lipstick I hadn’t put on in ages. It had never felt right for the boardroom. Too much, they would have said. Even for my line of work.
But tonight?
It seemed perfect for possibility.
Jake and Carson were already settled on the couch with a pair of controllers. They didn’t hear me come into the living room, so I stood at the edge and watched as Carson waved at the screen.
“Just hit the square and R1!” Carson said, bouncing up and down. “That’ll make him do a low cross. See? Watch me.”
In a flash, Carson made his soccer player on the screen kick the ball across and into the goal. Next to him, Jake stared open-mouthed. In real life, I bet Jake could’ve mastered that low cross kick.
But here?
Carson was king.
And he was loving it.
“You’re not clicking fast enough,” Carson explained.
“Maybe you’re right and thirty really is too old,” Jake said, laughing and ruffling Carson’s hair with his free hand.
Carson grinned. “It’s okay. I can teach you. Remember? I’m the master.”
Behind them, I cleared my throat so that they both turned around.
“Well look at you,” Jake said. “You look great, sis.”
I bit my lip. “It’s not too much?”
“No way!” Carson said, jumping off the couch. “Mom, you look pretty. Well, for a mom.”
I laughed, and that was helpful, because I refused to cry in front of him, even though his comment, caveat and all, already had me tearing up. I held out my arms so he could run over and hug me.
“Thank you,” I said as we let go.
Carson gave me one last grin before he rushed back to the couch and grabbed the controller again. My brother came over, glancing at him before looking at me.
“So,” he said, sounding pleased. “You’re finally taking that ‘me time’ you so generously encouraged me to take.”
I laughed. “Your ‘me time’ didn’t really last. Pretty sure it’s turned into you-and-Kate time.”
Jake grinned. “Can’t say I regret that in the least
. And who’s to say that won’t happen with you and Daniel?”
I couldn’t help it. I smiled. Then, Carson let out a whoop from the couch, and my heart flipped just a little.
“Are you sure he’s okay with this?” I asked, in a whisper, nerves kicking back up.
Jake’s expression softened. “Christine,” he said, squeezing my arm. “You saw him just now. He wants you to be happy.”
I took in a deep breath. He was right. And I hated that he was. Who gave my little brother permission to be the smart one?
“Besides,” Jake said, nudging me in the shoulder. “If I get to—what was it you said?—sparkle, then so should you.”
I pinched his cheek. “And you are very sparkly.”
In my pocket, my phone buzzed. Daniel. I’d asked him to text me when he was outside. I wasn’t ready for him to knock and meet Jake and Carson.
Not yet, anyway.
For now, I was doing this on my terms, just like everything else in my life.
“He’s here,” I said to Jake. “Now go back and be a good babysitter. And don’t let him play video games all night.”
My brother winked before returning to Carson and the low cross.
Leaving me to slip out the door.
Leaving me to my new chance in the city of opportunity.
For the briefest moment before I opened the door, I panicked and wondered if Daniel would have come on his motorcycle. I had no idea how I was supposed to ride a motorcycle in a tight dress.
The Decadent Gift Page 14