A Matter of Time 03 - 04 (Volume 2) (MM)

by Mary Calmes

  "Ish?" She giggled.

  "So ish," I assured her. "Dylan and I might be a little laid-back but still... eight in the morning is just obscene."

  "Okay, partner," she sighed into the phone. "Nine- ish it is."

  When I asked how her date had gone with Rick Jenner, she said it wasn't over yet. Apparently they had been inseparable since they'd had dinner.

  "Have you even gone home yet?"

  She had no comment.

  I chuckled and she groaned.

  "He's a good guy," I championed my brother's friend.

  "He's a phenomenal guy," she corrected me, "and so damn hot."

  I grunted. "I'll take your word for it."

  "And speaking of hot guys... who was the gorgeous guy I saw you leaving The Corner Diner with last night?"

  "I didn't see you."

  "No, I know. I yelled but you were too far away, but who cares! Who was the guy?"

  "Sam."

  "Oooh," she purred. "Do you realize you just sighed when you said his name?"

  "I did not."

  "Oh, I think ya did. Who is he?"

  "He's a police detective."

  "Well he's totally yummy. I approve."

  "Stop."

  "And can I just say what a stunning couple you guys make? I mean holy shit, drop-dead, could-not-take my-eyes-off-of-you-guys gorgeous."

  "No, we don't but you and Rick on the other hand... really beautiful."

  "Well, thank you very much." She squealed suddenly, and her throaty laughter filled my ears.

  "Whatcha doin', babe?" I teased her.

  "Shut up." She laughed more. "Richard Jenner, go away, I'm trying to talk to Jor—"

  A second later she was gone and I smiled wide. It would be interesting to find out what Dane thought of his friend's new girl when he got back from his honeymoon.

  * * * *

  I was already home that evening when my friend Sloan called and invited me to dinner with her and her boyfriend Derek. Because I had turned her down the last five times she'd called me, I accepted and went to meet them at a steakhouse downtown. When I met them outside the restaurant and was introduced to three other people, among them Parker Strom, I understood that I was being "fixed-up."

  I dragged Sloan to the bar with me, where she confessed that because she loved both Parker and me she hoped we would hit it off. I stifled a groan.

  When we rejoined the group, Parker had a glass of white wine for me. I took it to be polite, even though wine gave me headaches. He stood close, asked me what I did, and complimented my leather racing jacket. I was listening to him answer all Sloan's questions about his job, his house, his car and his plans for the holidays. She was obviously interviewing him for me, letting me hear his answers, tell me himself that he was a catch. A hand on my shoulder made me turn and when I did, I found myself faced with Aaron Sutter.

  "Hey." I smiled at him.

  "Jory." He smiled back, hand closing on my jacket. "What are you doing here?"

  "Just having dinner with friends."

  "Great." His eyes were locked on mine. "Eat with us."

  "There's like six of us, Sutter," I teased him, smiling wide.

  "How can you—"

  "I've got a private room upstairs," he said, hand on my bicep, easing me closer to him. "Come on, I feel like crap about last time. Treat your friends, eat with me."

  And it would be a treat, for anyone. Unless you lived under a rock, everyone knew Aaron Sutter. People saw his name splashed all over newspapers, read articles and saw his picture in magazines, understood that he was rich, powerful, and connected. Partying with him was Cristal and caviar, nothing but the best. So there was no reason to say no when someone was offering to make a normal Wednesday night into an event. It was assumed that dinner would just be the beginning. The expressions given him were ones of wonder as he led the entire entourage through the crowded restaurant, one arm draped over Sloan's shoulder, the other hand tight on my bicep.

  Up the marble staircase to the second floor was a private room that had its own tiny dance floor and was set up like someone's living room instead of a restaurant.

  "This is amazing," Parker said, watching Aaron as he mingled with his friends.

  "Yep," I sighed, motioning the waiter over to me, passing him the full glass of wine and ordering a Chivas and water.

  "It's all first class with Aaron."

  "He's even better-looking in person."

  The man was handsome, period. Live or in print, he looked exactly the same.

  "Don't you think so?"

  "Sure."

  He stepped in closer to me. "So listen, before this evening goes on any further, I would like to get your number so I can call you and ask you out on a real date."

  "Who's going on a date?"

  We both turned to find Aaron beside us, his hand on the back of my neck, fingers sliding up into my hair.

  "I...." Parker began but faltered, and I saw him watching Aaron's obvious show of possessiveness. "I wanted to thank you for inviting me, Mr. Sutter."

  "Aaron," he corrected gently. "And I'm sorry, did you want to ask Jory out?"

  He swallowed nervously. "I did, yes."

  Aaron nodded before he excused us both, leading me toward the table. "Sit with me."

  I chuckled. "That was kind of an asshole thing to do, don't you think?"

  "No," he said. "He needs to know that if he wants you, the line forms behind me."

  I smiled at him. "C'mon, Sutter, order us all something to eat already. Everybody's starving."

  "Yes, dear," he said, smiling, pulling me closer.

  It was fun, as it always was when Aaron was the host of his own party. He didn't order off the menu but instead rattled off selections that the chef would prepare only for him.

  And normally I took offence to the making of assumptions about what I wanted, but I wasn't in the mood to argue and so let him tell the waiter what I would have.

  "Lemme take your jacket."

  I took it off and passed it to him. When he complimented the dress shirt underneath, I gave him a look.

  "What?"

  "I look the same as always, Sutter, don't screw with me."

  He scowled at me.

  "You, on the other hand, look great," I assured him, my hand fixing the collar of his dress shirt under his V-neck sweater. "But you always do."

  "Do I?"

  "Quit fishing," I grunted.

  "I just like it when you notice."

  I stared into his eyes and tried to understand, again, what it was that wasn't there. Why I wouldn't just change for him and be the way he wanted. Anyone in their right mind would.

  The man was perfect and yet... not for me. He wasn't perfect for me.

  "Try the wine, J," he urged, moving a piece of hair out of my eyes.

  "I thought I drank too much?" I quipped, annoyed suddenly for no reason.

  "Please... I don't want to fight." He sighed, his fingers stroking over my jaw. "I just want to feed you and maybe, hopefully... take you home with me."

  I let it go and tried the red wine. He was looking at me expectantly, and I felt a familiar knot twist in my stomach.

  Always I could be counted on to let him down in these instances. He thought I knew wine and food and I didn't. He imagined me a connoisseur because he was and all his friends were, but the truth was that I had simple tastes, always had.

  "You like it?"

  "Yeah, it's great."

  "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing," I said, turning to look at Sloan, asking her to repeat her question about Dane. She wanted to know about the wedding, and I was more than willing to give her details.

  Later, when a plate was set down in front of me, Aaron drew my attention to him with a hand on my knee.

  "Try the steak, J. It's Kobe beef, you're gonna love it."

  And I did like it when I tried it, but I didn't want to be told that I had to love it. As usual, I realized I was nitpicking at him and tried to stop. Whe
n my phone rang I excused myself to the opposite side of the room before I answered it.

  "Jory."

  "Sam," I sighed because I was so happy to hear his voice.

  "Well," he said softly, "that's the best greeting I've gotten so far."

  "Yeah?"

  "Yeah. You sound good. Where are you?"

  "I'm at dinner."

  "Dinner? What is it, like ten now?"

  I laughed at him. "Don't be so regimented, Detective.

  Dinner's whenever you want it."

  "If you say so, but I gotta tell ya, you keep some weird-ass hours."

  I smiled into my phone. "Very true. Why are you calling?"

  "You said I could."

  "Yeah, but—"

  "You know the other night, when you said that all I wanted you for was to fuck, that was messed up. You knew it was crap even when you were saying it."

  "I don't wanna talk about—"

  "'Cause the first thing I want is your heart."

  Jesus.

  "I want you, period."

  "Listen, maybe you shouldn't call—"

  "Where are you having dinner?"

  "It's not—"

  "Jory, come sit down," Aaron said as he walked up beside me. "Your food's getting cold."

  "Who's that?" Sam asked me.

  "I'll talk to you later," I said quickly.

  "You don't wanna hang up," he warned me. "'Cause I can find your cell phone, J, no problem."

  "Oh yeah?" I baited him and clicked it off. "Good luck."

  When I turned to go back to the table I stopped instantly, as Aaron was standing right there, barring my path and smiling at me.

  "What?"

  "Your temper, Jory," he sighed, his fingers sliding over my jaw. "It's really something."

  I moved past him to go back to the table at the same time that the waiter finally dropped off my Chivas and water. I thanked him, drained it before he could leave, and quickly ordered another one before I even sat down.

  "Jory, don't ruin the evening just because you're pissed off at whoever was on the phone."

  "I'm not ruining anything," I said, cutting into my steak again. "Just drop it."

  But Aaron never could. "Why don't we go?"

  "I'm eating," I told him, "and all my friends are here, having a good time. You should too."

  "How can I, when I know if you keep drinking that you might go home with someone else instead of me?"

  "Don't worry about it. I'm not going home with anyone."

  "Please," he shook his head, "you always go home with someone, Jory. You're predictable that way. I used to watch you when you were out, and you never left alone, every night a different guy. I'm sure nothing's changed."

  I turned to look at him as the waiter dropped off my second drink. "What are you talking about now?"

  He searched my eyes with his. "Before we started dating, I'd see you at the club, picking up a different guy every night.

  You'd leave with them, and then the next night if the same guy came near you, you ignored them until they got the message. Nobody ever gets a repeat performance from you.

  You're a one-night stand kind of guy."

  I nodded, feeling my face get hot. People were listening and pretending they weren't; some of their faces showed embarrassment and others were just disgusted. Parker looked surprised. He was probably wondering why Sloan would have wanted him to date me, since I was so obviously just looking for my next hook-up.

  "C'mon, you know I'm right. You never sleep with the same guy twice, that's not how you operate. You sleep with them and forget them."

  "Is that right?"

  "Yes," he chuckled. "And I bet it's been even worse since we broke up. You're like the biggest slut in Chicago, and you know it."

  He was right to some degree. Before him, after Sam, there had been a lot of men. And before Sam, there were too many to count. So I did sleep around a lot, but when I was with someone, I was monogamous. My first instinct was to loyalty and wanting to belong to someone. If Sam wanted me, I would....

  I jerked hard, startling Sloan, who was sitting on the other side of me.

  "Jesus, Jory," she chuckled, sliding her chair away from me, closer to her boyfriend, Derek, who was sitting beside her. "Just because you're drunk, don't spill on me."

  But I wasn't drunk. I hadn't even finished my second drink yet. But everyone thought I was or would be.

  "Did you hear me?" Aaron asked.

  What was I doing, thinking about Sam?

  "Are you all right?"

  "Yeah I'm... fine."

  "Look at me."

  I did as he asked.

  "It used to piss me off, seeing you go home with all those guys after turning me down. It took me forever to get you to say yes."

  I heard his words, but I wasn't actually thinking about what he was saying. I wasn't emotionally connected at all.

  "When we finally got together... God, Jory, it was like winning the lottery."

  I was a prize, then.

  "Jory...."

  I looked into his eyes, saw how hungry they were, how dark.

  He leaned close to me so he wouldn't be overheard. "You know people look at you and think you're hot, but they have no idea how great your body is."

  Always, this had been Aaron's need—for everyone to admire his things, to covet his possessions... and I had been one of them.

  When we used to go out with his friends, he would buy me a shirt or a sweater, a gift he'd say. And I would put it on only to find that it was a size too small. "Your body is gorgeous,"

  he told me. "You should show it off more." If we were lounging by the pool, he'd run his hand over my stomach in front of his friends, tell them that you could scrub laundry on my abs, sometimes yanking down the side of my swim trunks to trace the V-line from my hip to my groin. I would shove him off me, head for the house, and he would catch me, say he was sorry, never meaning to embarrass me. I was just so beautiful, what was he supposed to do? I told him I wanted to be treated with respect. And he would promise to, even as his hand slid over my ass to the catcalls and whistles of his friends. The end result was logical; the people who mattered to him thought our relationship was a joke. They were sure that all I had to offer was what you could see.

  We would go to expensive places, and Aaron was reminded by his friends to buy my drinks or my meal since I couldn't possibly afford it. My age was a constant source of amusement, my lack of a financial portfolio and property cause for concern. It was understood that he was slumming with me because I had a hot body and I was good in bed. And when we broke up, leaving that part behind had been a huge relief. Funny that Dane's friends never made me feel bad about myself. Maybe because they were all self-made men, not one of them a trust-fund baby like Aaron's ubiquitous posse.

  "What are you thinking about?"

  I shook my head, gulping down my drink.

  He leaned in close and I felt his warm breath in my ear.

  "Jory, I know you're back to the clubs, sleeping with any guy who asks... so I'm asking... come home with me. Choose me tonight... please."

  But it was over, and going back was just plain stupid. Just being with him, seeing the sneering looks from his friends, hearing him criticize me was annoying.

  He turned my face to him. "I'm not trying to make you feel bad."

  "Yeah, ya are," I said, lifting my chin out of his hand and pushing back from the table. "But it's normal for you and these assholes, so I'm not upset. I'm just done."

  "But I don't care that you're like that," he went on, because he wasn't really listening to me. "I just want you to—"

  "I know what you want," I said as I stood up and put on my jacket.

  "What are you doing?" he asked suddenly.

  It seemed obvious. "I'm leaving."

  "Why?" he asked, reaching out to grab hold of my wrist.

  "I forgot how bad you and your friends make me feel about myself," I told him, yanking my arm free of his grasp.

&
nbsp; "I'll see ya later. Thanks for dinner."

  "Jory—"

  "Bye," I yelled at the table, smiling before I turned and left the room, dodging the waiters coming in to serve more food and drinks. I made it down the staircase to the restaurant and then snaked my way through the crowd to the door. On the street I felt instantly better, less claustrophobic, like I could breathe.

  "Jory!"

  I turned and found Aaron.

  "Where are you going?"

  "Home."

  "Why? What did I say that's not true?"

  "Nothing," I said, turning to leave.

  "Jory!" he snapped, grabbing my arm tight, holding on. "I hate these damn dramatic exits. Just for once, stay and fight.

  You always run."

  I shrugged. "So find someone who'll stay. It doesn't seem that hard. You get tons of guys hitting on you all the time, just pick one already. That guy Parker thinks you're plenty hot."

  "Jory—"

  "Lemme go, Aaron," I said tiredly. "I'm not the guy for you and you're definitely not the one for me. Let's just call it a day."

  "God!" he roared, the frustration just rolling off him. "Why do you have to fight me all the time? Why can't you just listen to me, since all I want is the best for you? You could be so happy! I could show you so many things and places and—"

  I peeled his hand off me and took a step back. "I don't need that."

  "What do you need? Do you even know?"

  I didn't, but I knew for certain it wasn't Aaron Sutter. I had to trust in order to love, and I didn't trust Aaron. He wanted to change me, and I was afraid if I stayed with him I would lose myself along the way.

  "Jory? Tell me the kind of guy you need and I'll be that guy."

  I shook my head. The only man I had ever loved so completely that every wall in me had come down was Sam Kage. And it was because he was strong enough to never break under the strain of being with me. I was a mess and he had been my rock. I needed that, I needed to be able to surrender and just be. But it would sound desperate and codependent if I gave voice to it, so I just stood there silently.

  "Jory, please. I thought about you every day I was gone."

  When he took a step forward I took another back. I wasn't going to let him touch me anymore... there was no point. I had my doubts that we could even be friends.