by Leanne Brice
Part II
DOUBLE TROUBLE
Chapter 7
THURSDAY
(A few days later)
I immediately go on guard when I see Danny’s name show up on my phone as a call comes in.
First of all, it’s after seven p.m.—I’ve been home from work for over an hour, and Danny has never called me off-hours.
Come to think of it, Danny has never actually called me, and I have only contacted him twice—first to inquire about the job in the first place, and then texting him later to confirm what time I was supposed to show up.
I let the phone ring a few times as my mind races, wondering what the heck he’s calling me about.
After our second encounter, we’ve been a good boy and girl—we haven’t even seen each other since that evening in his office. Not even an elevator close call.
Someone else has been tasked with walking me through everything and assigning duties to me, so Danny doesn’t need to be bothered with that sort of small stuff, and his office is nowhere near my home base.
I stare at the incoming call, one of the last things he said to me running through my mind: I sure wish I had a chance to eat you; I want to taste your pussy so badly, Emma…
Oh, god, is he calling to make that happen? Is he about to propose dining between my legs, promising me that’s as far as it’ll go?
Has the thought been haunting him the way it’s been haunting me?
Just say no, I remind myself. If he hints at any kind of hanky-panky, just say no.
I click ‘answer.’
“Emma,” he says in his familiar tenor.
Man, his voice just does it for me—just saying my name already has my body vibrating with interest.
It also hits me how much I missed him, and that really freaks me out.
I’m not the type to get attached so easily, and yet this man seems to have burrowed his way into me beyond the physical.
I’ve had casual sex before and had no problem disentangling afterward. Why is this guy getting to me?
“What’s up?” I say casually.
I hear him take a breath. “My mom’s in town and invited me to dinner.”
“Okay…”
“And she asked me to invite you to come along too.”
“What?” Why the hell would she do that? “Well, I wouldn’t want to intrude on some good old mother-son time; I’m sure she was just being polite since she knows I’m in the area…”
“No, she’s pretty insistent on getting to know ‘her future stepdaughter’ a bit more.”
I cringe.
Think, Emma. Find an excuse!
“When is it?” I ask, stalling.
“Tomorrow evening—around this time.”
“Oh, I…uh…” …Don’t have a damned thing going on tomorrow.
Also, with my new schedule, I haven’t been the best at sorting out the basics of maintaining myself, and having someone else take care of dinner tomorrow would be awesome; the current state of my cupboards and fridge is not conducive to making a meal tonight, so it’ll probably be delivery again.
Yeah, it’ll be good to have a fancy meal tomorrow.
“Yeah, I guess I’ll do it. I don’t have to dress up too much, do I? I’ve only got, like, casual stuff—jeans and whatnot— swimwear, and some office outfits now. Nothing appropriate for a five-star restaurant at this time.”
He chuckles. “I’ll send some stuff to you.”
Wait, what?
“What time do you go to bed?” he asks.
“Um, around eleven now. Wait, I can probably just wear a work outfit, right? And also, I can buy my own shit, thank you very much.”
“That’s a bit much to ask of you; besides, it’s no skin off my back. A shopper will put together a few outfits for you—accessories and all—and can be at your place before bedtime tonight. Feel free to keep everything they bring—consider it a gift to you from…”
His hesitation makes my stomach drop.
Please don’t say my ‘future stepbrother!’
“… me. Emma, I like you a lot, and no, I don’t do this for all girls I like or have slept with. I realize this whole thing is pretty awkward, and I’m just glad you’re indulging my mom—she’ll be really happy you’re coming. So there—consider the clothes like a bouquet of flowers to say thanks for taking time out of your life to make my mom smile.”
Well, damn—how can I say no to that?
Danny managed to take the ick off the whole thing—I no longer feel like accepting the clothes means I’m accepting some kind of payment for sleeping with him, or that he’s keeping me primed to jump my bones again. Not that I would mind that.
Ugh. What’s wrong with me?
You know what? I bet that’s it—he’s so good in bed, it’s hard to let him go.
Guys who are pretty meh in the sack, it’s easy to forget about them, but when you find a guy like Danny, a man who can take you ferociously, and thrill you with how badly he needs you, yet manages to satisfy you the same time he’s quenching his ravenous thirst? That’s tough to let go.
Fuck, I’m starting to get a bit slick thinking about it, and I have to bat away the budding fantasy of him showing up at my door instead of his hired shopper with my new clothes…
“So I’ll see you tomorrow at seven then,” he says. “I’ll text you the name of the restaurant and the location soon—look out for it.”
“See you tomorrow at seven,” I agree, noting he silently suggested we go separately.
Smart move.
Who knows what the hell could happen if we end up in a car together?
FRIDAY
I’m glad that shopper had taste, and I have no idea how she could have possibly known what would work with my body or not nauseate me too much, but just about every outfit she put together was a winner.
I managed to choose one last night so I didn’t have to think too much when the time came to get ready, and I’m kind of fascinated with the way I look right now.
My mom would have beamed with pride, tears in her eyes if she saw how sophisticated and feminine I appear.
The look inspires me to spruce up my hair and makeup a little.
Don’t get me wrong—I’m not saying I’m about to fill my wardrobe with the stuff, but once in a while, it might not be so bad to dress up like this. It’s kind of fun.
I never liked it in my teens, but I think I can tolerate doing so once a year or so now.
I guess I have to dress up again for the wedding pretty soon, but that’s par for the course.
I suddenly realize I have to come up with a dress for that event soon.
The last wedding I went to was my friend Becca’s, and I was a bridesmaid, so pretty much all my shit was picked out for me.
I guess I can probably just use one of the other outfits the shopper brought me—they’re all upscale and totally appropriate.
Right now, I’m in a sleek designer black dress with gold accessories and black heels.
This dress would not have been a good pick for the wedding—someone might think I was making a statement wearing black—but there’s a red dress and a print dress…
My alarm goes off.
Time to head out so I can make it there on time!
I might not want to go, but I don’t want to be rude.
“Oh, my,” Daisy says when she sees me. I notice Danny’s mouth practically falls open. “Look at you—why, you’re absolutely stunning, Emma. Isn’t she stunning, Daniel?”
“That she is, Mom. Good to see you again, Emma.”
Nice job on the recovery, man! Danny sounds and now looks like he barely knows me.
I join the two in the booth.
I’m a few minutes early but the two of them have clearly been here a while—they both have finished drinks sitting on the table.
Maybe they arranged it so they could have a bit of time together before I arrived, deliberately giving me a later time.
My menu arrives and I put in my ord
er, realizing they must’ve already put theirs in when they don’t bother to do the same.
“I’m so glad you could make it,” Daisy says. “How’s the new job working out for you?”
“I actually like it! It’s weird jumping back into such a strict schedule again—it’s been years since I’ve had anything like it.”
“And you two have been getting to know each other a bit, I presume?”
“Oh, we barely see each other—he works in a totally different area, as you know, so we don’t get to cross paths.”
“But maybe lunch together? I mean, since you two will be family soon…”
“Actually,” Danny says, “and I didn’t get a chance to mention this to Emma—there’s been talk of promoting her to an executive assistant position.”
The weird pivot seems to have worked.
“Oh, is that so? So quickly?”
“Well, Emma’s obviously a sharp girl—her talents are wasted in the filing room and entering data; she’s capable of far more.”
I find myself warming at his compliments, despite knowing what he’s doing—just distracting his mom. There’s no way what he said could be true.
“I’m so delighted to hear it’s working out,” Daisy says as our first course arrives.
Once we begin to eat she says, “About the wedding—are you two planning on bringing anyone?”
“No,” I say the same time Danny says, “Yes.”
My eyes dart to him and I work hard to keep my sudden jealousy at bay.
I concentrate on my food, keeping my eyes off of him while I silently fume.
Thankfully, the conversation veers far away from the two of us for the rest of the dinner.
Once I ask Daisy how she managed to pull everything together for the wedding so quickly, she yaps about the strings she pulled, and the major things she had to get in place—making sure the most important people to her and my dad could make it, for one.
That line of conversation keeps her busy while I chow down and avoid Danny’s eyes.
I keep the spotlight squarely on Daisy as long as possible, asking how she met my dad and how they knew they should be together and all that.
Danny stays pretty quiet—just eating and watching the two of us interact.
At some point, I went from pretending to be interested to actually listening with great interest to what she was saying, so before I knew it, we were done with dessert and it was almost time for us to part.
Daisy takes a breath and smiles wide, her face lit up genuinely.
“Well, this was just wonderful,” she says. “Thank you so much for joining us tonight, Emma.”
“I couldn’t think of a better way to start the weekend,” I say, not sure if I mean it or not.
The Masters take care of the check, and I prepare to leave.
“Did you take a taxi here?” Danny suddenly says, startling me a little.
“Yup,” I say.
“I can drive you home if you’d like.”
“Oh, it’s okay,” I say with a smile, waving away the offer. “I’m totally used to…”
“Oh, let him take you,” Daisy says pleadingly. “I have a car on the way to take me back home tonight. Over ninety miles! You’re both in Manhattan—it won’t be too out of his way, in any case, and it’ll ease my mind to know you’re with him; I want you to be safe.”
Haha! I guess in one way I’d be safe, but as for others…
My eyes slide from Danny to Daisy then back to Danny.
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll accept the ride.”
Daisy beams.
Danny hugs his mom goodbye, kissing her on the cheek and promising to see her soon—at the wedding, I assume; it’s next weekend, after all.
Then he helps me into my coat and we leave the restaurant together.
As we wait for the valet to bring his car, I say, “So who’s the lucky girl?” trying and failing to keep the edge out of my voice.
“I knew it,” he says. “Look, Emma—I always have a date for events, and if I didn’t have one for the wedding, my mom would push, wanting to know why I came alone. I don’t like having to lie to her.”
“You did an awesome job about the promotion thing.”
“Well, that wasn’t exactly a lie. We’re planning on training you for a better position, but that’s a conversation for another time.”
“Right. So who’s the lucky girl?”
He grins at my insistence. “To be honest, I haven’t decided yet. But I will be there with someone to throw off any suspicion something has happened between us, and you should too. We really should be trying to move on anyway, shouldn’t we? Our parents are getting married next week, for Christ’s sake.”
I nod my head in agreement, but other parts of me don’t agree at all.
His car arrives and we hop in, and then he directs his driver to my place.
We sit in silence for a few moments, not looking at each other.
Then he turns to me. “So the Cara thing...”
I laugh. “It’s what I tell all the guys I don’t plan to ever see again.”
“That worked out,” he says dryly. “Wow—all the guys?” He raises his eyebrows as if impressed but also playfully judgmental.
“It’s not like I’m one-night-standing all over the place—you were actually my first one of those. But I’m talking about catcallers for example, who, when they’re not telling you to smile or how good you look in whatever, they’re asking your name. I don’t feel right ignoring people when they’re asking me a question, so I came up with Cara. It was the name of all sorts of things I had while growing up. My imaginary friend, my favorite doll, my first pet...”
He nods his head understandingly.
“I see—Cara is the objectified version of yourself.”
For some reason, that hits me hard—like a punch in the gut.
“I guess,” I say, and I desperately want to change the subject all of a sudden. “How do you feel about your mom getting married?”
He shrugs. “I’m happy for her. Really happy for her, actually. I mean, she’s pretty strong, despite how she might appear, but she’s been through a lot—she had a rough childhood. Anyway, my dad’s death was kind of sudden—heart attack on a golf course.” He lets out a mirthless chuckle. “The two had sort of drifted before then, but it was still a blow—I mean, they’ve been together forever.”
“What about you? How did you fare in the aftermath?”
“To be honest, my dad and I were never really close. He wasn’t around much, and then I wasn’t around much—boarding schools, then off to college, graduate school, etc. I didn’t really know him. But anyway, he had a lot of faith in me, apparently—he left everything to me. Of course, I’m his only child. That we know of.” He winks at me. “Who knows, right?”
He’s trying hard to keep it light—I can tell.
I want to talk to him more about this so badly, share his confusion and remnant grief, let him know how much we have in common, but it’s probably a better idea not to jump on this—it might bond us a bit more and make this whole thing more dangerous; we’re on a tightrope as it is.
I decide to say nothing else, and he has apparently decided the same.
Despite my core’s desires, Danny is a perfect gentleman the rest of the way to my apartment and sends me off with a cordial but distant “See you soon” once I arrive.
Chapter 8
SUNDAY - WEDDING DAY
(1 week later)
The girl on Danny’s arm is brunette and disgustingly pretty. She’s curvy, her hair is about waist-length, and she has the cutest dimples.
I think I should get an Oscar for all the acting I’ve had to do this fine, blessed day—pretending as if Danny and I have only a passing, dry acquaintance, and faking a smile whenever our eyes happen to meet—which I try to avoid at all costs.
Since two p.m., I have had to plaster on smile after smile, maintain a pleasant resting face while trying hard to ignore how much I want t
o look into Danny’s hazel eyes, admire the way he looks in his suit.
I’ve had to act as if it doesn’t bother me how close this brunette sits to him, the way she hangs onto his arm, the way she looks at him.
I must bat away all thoughts about whether or not he has slept with her before or plans to tonight.
Jesus, my face is tired from all these lies.
I don’t have to act happy for my dad though—since he genuinely appears thrilled, I can’t help but feel the same for him.
The actual ceremony was quick and cute, and I’m not sure if my dad and Daisy have signed their marriage certificates already, but it’s pretty much official now—Daisy Masters (Winters?) is my new stepmother, and Danny Masters is my brand spanking new stepbrother.
I really shouldn’t care about what he’s up to tonight. I shouldn’t be so curious what that dark-haired, chocolate-eyed vixen whispered in his ear at some point, whether he has thought about munching on her the way he expressed wanting to devour me.
Jealousy sears through me.
Thank goodness we’ve reached the best part of the whole event—the reception.
So much liquor I plan to have—so much; I need it all.
Like a dumb-dumb, I didn’t bring a date myself—someone who could have at least genuinely distracted me at various moments, someone I could have played off of and improved upon my acting with.
The good news is that, although the number of attendees is small, it’s not exactly all old people. I spotted a few other folks on the younger side, and I don’t know what they’re doing here, but I’ll definitely find out—anything to distract from Danny and his flirty, bubbly date.
I forgot how agonizingly slow the rollout of edibles can be at weddings—waiting for everyone to get the same course at the same time.
Hooray! Salad time!
Ugh.
At least I can throw back a glass of white wine immediately while I wait for them to come around with the fish and steaks.
My dad and Daisy opted to have a lovers table for two, but everyone else is at a four-top, and lucky me, I’ve been seated with Danny and his date, and some other guy.