Text Me On Tuesday: All is Fair in Love and Texting ... (An Accidentally in Love Story Book 1)

by Whitney Dineen

He runs his fingers through his hair. “I wish I could make you understand. My life is … not really my own. I have so many people relying on me, I just don’t have time for a personal life.”

  “That’s totally your call,” I tell him. “You’ve made it perfectly clear how you feel, so I don’t think there’s any point in continuing a flirtation when nothing can come of it. I hope we can still be business associates, though.” Because, dear God, I really do need the job.

  “Of course. I’m not such a cad that I’d make our work relationship dependent on you know …”—he points to himself and then to me—”something happening here.”

  “Good. That speaks well of you, at least.”

  “I’ll call you a car.” He walks over to his desk and picks up his phone, then orders a car. When he hangs up, he says, “It’ll be ten minutes. I’ll walk you out.”

  I sigh and press my tongue against my top teeth. “Why do you have to do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Be so … perfect all the time,” I spit out, waving my hand to gesture to his entire body. Imitating him, I say, “‘I’ll walk you out.’ You’re such a tease.”

  He blinks in surprise. “I’ve never been called that before.”

  “Maybe not to your face.”

  “The last thing I want to do is frustrate you. I’m just trying to be a man of honor. I’d never want to turn any woman into a work-widow, especially not someone like you.”

  “Oh, my God!” I shout. “Do you think this is the eighteenth century? Do you think I’m just going to sit at home doing needlepoint, waiting for your arrival at the end of each day? In case you haven’t noticed, I have my own hopes and dreams—big, juicy ones that mean I won’t have that much time for you, either. But I’m not just going to throw in the towel on love and say, ‘oh well, I guess I can’t ever have a relationship because I want to run an incredibly popular catering business and make piles of money!’”

  “Aimée—”

  “I’m not done yet,” I say, throwing my balled-up clothes on the floor and stepping right up to him, breathing hard with rage. “People do this all the time. They have careers and relationships. They … they hang out together on the couch while they’re both working on their laptops. They kiss each other goodbye early in the morning, happy that they’ll have someone to come home to at the end of a long day. They support each other and talk about things that they’re proud of or scared of, or even angry about. It can work, you moron! It literally works for millions of people all over America every damn day!”

  Noel pulls me into his arms and lifts me up until my feet are practically off the ground. Then he kisses me like his life depends on it. And oh, wow, it’s the kiss of a lifetime. The greatest kiss I’ve ever had—it somehow weakens my knees and makes me feel incredibly powerful at the same time. I wrap my hands around his neck and pull him to me, pressing myself against him, as close as two fully-dressed people can be. His hands are on my cheeks now as his tongue and mine do the most delicious things to each other. It’s the perfect blend of spicy and sweet and I’m so caught up in it, I don’t care what happens tomorrow. I just don’t want this to stop.

  He pulls back and rests his forehead against mine, his breath ragged on my skin. “Oh God, Aimée … I want you so badly. You do something to me, something amazing and wonderful and terrifying all at the same time. I’ve broken all of my rules for you. And no matter how much I tell myself to forget about you, I can’t. I just can’t.”

  He kisses me again urgently, showing me how much he wants me. His hands move down to my bottom and he squeezes firmly, then lifts me off the floor. I wrap my legs around his waist wishing we were not dressed because this is the sexiest moment of my whole life. He walks over to his desk and sets me down on it, and the two of us start to fumble with each other’s clothes. I lift the bottom of his shirt out of his pants and put my hands under the fabric, feeling the heat of his hard body while he unzips my dress and slips it off my shoulders.

  The phone rings, intruding at the worst moment possible. Well, maybe not the worst …

  Noel pulls back and says, “That’ll be your car. Do you still want to go?”

  I shake my head and kiss him again, unable to articulate with words.

  He reaches over and fumbles for the receiver, picking it up while our lips are still glued together, pulling back just long enough to say, “Thanks, but I won’t be needing the car after all.”

  Then he slams the receiver down. I can tell by the look on his face, this is going to be well worth the wait.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Noel

  Three weeks later …

  “Mmm …” I moan as the savory blend of flavors and the light pastry of the chicken vol-au-vent dance across my tongue. “So, so good,” I murmur, forking another bite.

  We’re at my place and Aimée’s been hard at work testing out new recipes for a big gig she’s got in a couple of days. I’m putting the finishing touches on our presentation redo for the Walters tomorrow. After Aimée and I had our first night together, she told me that Junior had let it slip that unless we screwed up in a massive way, the job was ours. Once I heard that, I decided to make seven p.m. the very latest anyone would have to stay at the office until we got the design wrapped up. I owe my team big and the first payoff is going back to semi-reasonable hours. The next payoff will be a sizable bonus in their paychecks once we sign on the dotted line for One Rosenthal.

  The added benefit has been allowing me to have what Aimée calls a “balanced” life. She’s totally right, too because the last three weeks have been pure heaven. She’s stayed over every night and although we don’t get much sleep, I’ve never had more energy. Who knew waking up with the same woman every day could be so … amazing? Certainly not me.

  “So I should add it to the rotation?” she asks, grinning at me as I practically lick the plate clean.

  “You’d be crazy not to,” I say, leaning over and giving her a lingering kiss that says I’m in the mood for something other than food.

  She kisses me back and I pull her onto my lap. After a few very delightful moments, she pulls back and gets up suddenly. “No way. You’ve got to finish that,” she says, pointing to my computer. “And I need to clean up. I’ve made a huge mess in my boyfriend’s kitchen, and I don’t know if you know this about him, but he’s a bit of a neat freak.”

  “Am not,” I say, narrowing my eyes in mock irritation. “I just like things a certain way for the aesthetics of it. Things just flow better and feel calmer when they’re clean and organized.”

  She glances at me, giving me a sideways grin. “But you’re not a neat freak.”

  “You know, a lot of women would kill for a guy who doesn’t leave his socks and underpants all over the floor …” I say, staring at my laptop again and trying to remember what I was doing before the most welcome interruption. “Someone who puts the cap on the toothpaste when he’s done … the kind of guy who’d book a cabin in Vermont for this weekend so he can whisk his girlfriend off and do very naughty things to her in a rural setting.”

  Aimée lets out a loud whoop, then rushes over, grabbing my cheeks with her soapy wet hands. She plants a huge kiss on me before saying, “You are going to get so lucky, mister.”

  I kiss her back, then wipe the suds off my face. “I already have. I finally got you to go out with me.”

  As soon as she’s safely back on the other side of the island, I add, “As impossible a task as that was. Honestly, why you thought this couldn’t work is beyond me. It was so obvious we were made for each other.”

  Oh, that did it. I quickly shut my laptop because now she’s racing at me with a wild look in her eyes and I know I’m in for it. I spring out of my chair and run to the bedroom with her in hot pursuit. I turn around just in time for her to launch herself at me, causing both of us to land on the bed with me pinned underneath her. “I win,” I say with a smirk.

  “You win? I won,” s
he says, looking adorably sexy and frustrated at the same time.

  “Nope, I win. I got you into the bedroom, which was my objective all along.”

  “You were running like a scared little girl,” she says, lowering her mouth over mine.

  With a quick flip, I’m on top of her, pressing myself against her and kissing her neck. “Do I seem like a scared little girl now?”

  Bursting out laughing, Aimée says, “Maybe let me do the sexy talk from now on.”

  I chuckle and nod. “That might work better.”

  “Shut up and take your clothes off.”

  “Gladly.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Aimée

  I’m whistling vintage Spice Girls songs to myself while walking down Amsterdam Avenue like I haven’t a care in this world. I have the sweetest, sexiest, most adorable boyfriend on the planet, and even though we’ve only been seeing each other for three weeks, this morning I told him I loved him.

  Lying in bed, Noel regaled me with stories about his horrible stuffy parents. I told him about my sweet and loving ones. He wanted to know how two people from such different backgrounds could be as good together as we are. I explained that love knew no boundaries. That’s when he pulled me toward him and held on tight. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  “I love you, Noel Fitzwilliam, and I don’t mean maybe.”

  The best part? He said it back. And we didn’t get up for another hour, even though he’s got his big presentation today. I sent him off to work with a big kiss and two trays of baked goods (with lots of extra cookies for Walter Senior). Since it’ll be much shorter than their first meeting, they didn’t think a full lunch was needed.

  As I near Bean Town, I spot no fewer than eight dogs tied up to a bike rack. That means Jen is here. T and I have been friendly with her ever since she started coming into the bakery. In the last few months, we’ve upped that relationship to genuine friendship. We even give her bags of day-old pastries to she can keep herself fed while saving money to buy more paint and canvases. My knowledge of the art world may be limited, but I know enough to realize she’s enormously talented.

  I stop to pet a couple of her charges before walking inside. I gave my notice at Bean Town two weeks ago. Between jobs at Noel’s and a few others that have started cropping up as a result, I’ve been too busy to work here. I’ve been suffering scone withdrawal something fierce.

  Being that Dr. Pearlman is putting my permanent crown on this afternoon, I figured I’d reward myself with a currant scone beforehand. Also, I haven’t seen Teisha in days and I miss her.

  Walking into Bean Town, I look around until I see T and Jen. They’re sitting at a small table by the window. When my roomie spots me, she cocks her head to the side while tapping her cheek. “Does that girl remind you of someone, Jen?”

  Jen plays right along. “Kind of. But the girl I’m thinking of fell off of the face of the earth. There’s no way it can be her.”

  I open my arms to them and order, “Have at me! I’ve missed you guys!”

  T is the first to arrive. “You have not. If you missed me, you’d call once in a while.”

  “Forgive me,” I tell her while grabbing her in a hug. “It’s not every day a girl falls in love with a sexy Englishman.”

  “NO!” she yells in my ear, practically breaking my eardrum.

  “Yes!” I squeeze her tightly with excitement. “We told each other this morning.”

  Jen sighs so loudly T and I both stop to stare at her. “Are you okay?” I ask.

  “No. I’m broke, my parents hate me, my rent is due, and Brutus pooped on my foot this morning.” I take a whiff and sure enough there’s a little something extra coming from her direction. “AND, nobody loves me!”

  “We love you,” I tell her.

  “I want big, sexy Englishman love!” she pouts.

  “Girl, don’t we all,” T tells her. “Just wait until you meet this guy.” She rolls her head back on her shoulders like she’s stroking out on me.

  I pull up a chair next to them. “I don’t have enough business yet to hire you guys on full-time, but I’m hoping in a few months I will. Then I can help you get ahead a little,” I say, looking at Jen.

  “I don’t have a few months,” she says. “I stopped by St. Patrick’s the other day and lit a candle, then I went out to a Jamaican neighborhood in Queens to buy a voodoo wealth charm. I even started stalking Liam Hemsworth because he was photographed at an art opening in SoHo and I can SO see him owning my stuff.”

  Jen’s good people, but she’s what you might call eccentric. “Do you know where he lives?” I ask.

  “Not a clue.”

  “Girl, then how can you stalk him?” Teisha demands.

  “I pretend he asked me to meet him at the gallery and then I wait while the owner calls him.”

  “Honey, that’s creepy,” T tells her.

  “I know it is and yet I’m so desperate for help I’ve taken to lighting candles from a religion I don’t even practice and I’ve started flirting with the black arts. Voodoo,” she reminds us. “I need the universe to open up and provide already. Like, yesterday.”

  After inhaling my scone and starting another at a more relaxed pace, I say, “Maybe you need to pray or something.”

  “That’s what the candle was all about,” she tells me. “What I need to do is open my third eye and tap into the oneness of the universe. Only then will I be able to channel cosmic abundance.” T gives me the side eye like she’s wondering after Jen’s mental health.

  “We need to set up a proper girls’ night,” I tell them. “But unfortunately, right now I have to head back over to the East Side to have my tooth fixed.” I stand up and grab the rest of my scone off the plate. “I’ll call you both, I promise.”

  “Watch me not holding my breath,” T says.

  “T, I promise.”

  She rolls her eyes and gives me another hug. “Terrance moves out on me and now you too? Thank god Kwon hasn’t abandoned me.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask. “Have you started dating Kwon?”

  “I would never break the sacred bond between me and my toenail bedazzler by crossing the line and letting things get too personal.” She pushes me toward the door and dramatically says, “Go! Leave me! Don’t worry about me all alone up in Harlem!”

  I giggle at her theatrics before hurrying out of the bakery. I decide I’ll get across town quicker if I walk through the park. In addition, I’ll also get to appreciate another stellar day in beautiful New York City. I’m so high on life right now, nothing can bring me down.

  I walk into Dr. Pearlman’s office with a smile on my face and greet the receptionist like she’s my long-lost sister. She looks a little unnerved by my enthusiastic acknowledgment, but I don’t care. I’m full of joy. I have carped my diem again and again in the last few weeks and I’m floating on cloud nine!

  Dr. Pearlman comes in after Busty Boober—that’s what I’ve nicknamed his assistant—straps a bib on me and makes me rinse with something that tastes like a cross between mouth wash and dirty dishwater. “Ms. Tompkins,” he greets. “We’ve received a beautiful new tooth for you.” He’s got one of those tiny flashlights strapped to his head as he walks over to the counter and picks up a clear plastic baggie with my new front tooth in it.

  After handing it to Busty, he picks up a pair of pliers and announces, “I’m just going to remove the temporary.” He starts gently enough, but that ends pretty quickly when the temp doesn’t budge.

  After a particularly vicious yank, I scream, “Holy mother of God, OUCH!” Then I pull back and pinch my lips together so tightly he’ll need a crowbar to open my mouth.

  “I guess we better give you some Lidocaine.” What was he waiting for? Is he some kind of sadist?

  He comes at me with a cotton swab. “This is a topical numbing agent, so the shot won’t hurt as badly.” He rubs it on the roof o
f my mouth.

  “Where am I getting the shot?” I ask nervously.

  “Right where I’m applying the topical,” he answers.

  “You’re going to shoot me on the roof of my mouth?!” I suddenly feel woozy and the room starts to spin. I think I’m going to pass out.

  Dr. Pearlman picks up my hand and slaps at it firmly, “Stay with me. You’re going to be just fine. I’ll give you plenty of numbing agent, so we only have to do one shot.” He picks up a cartoon-sized syringe and comes at me with it. I try to remind myself how happy I am in my life right now and that nothing can bring me down. It’s not working.

  My terror must be written all over my face because Dr. P asks if I’d like a diazepam.

  I’m about to say no but Busty gives me a knowing nod. “It’ll take the edge off.”

  Well, I definitely need to take the edge off at the moment. I answer to the affirmative, suck back the pill with a shot of water, then the two of them leave me alone for a few minutes for the numbing agent and the pill to kick in.

  When he comes back, Dr. Pearlman motions for his assistant to be on hand to hold me down if necessary and my bladder almost gives way. I’m pretty sure I feel exactly like an Old West cowboy about to have a bullet removed with only a swig of whiskey and a towel to bite down on. I’m about to climb out of the chair when a sense of calm overtakes me, and I grin at Busty. “This is nice. I’m going to come here more often.”

  I close my eyes and open my mouth on cue, and happily there’s nothing more than a mild burning sensation before the entire roof of my mouth and upper lip go completely numb. It takes no time after that for Dr. Pearlman to get the temp out and cement my new crown into place. “No eating hard or sticky food for twelve hours,” he tells me. “You need to let the glue set well first.”

  After he leaves, Busty has me rinse my mouth out one more time before taking my bib from me. “Dr. Pearlman likes to follow-up with crowns on the front teeth, so please see the receptionist on your way out to set up another appointment.”