by Deborah Camp
“What would be her purpose other than to bury the hatchet so you both could move on?”
“Oh, she’s moved on.” He laughed, ruefully. “She already had a man before the divorce and she’s been married and divorced again, then engaged to another guy. Now that’s kaput.”
“Maybe she thinks this will help you move on.”
“Who says I haven’t?”
Zaney let that one pass. For now. “Could be that since her recent breakup she’s taking stock of her life. Obviously, she’s dealing with regrets.”
“I knew she wanted me to hug her and thank her for fessing up. But I couldn’t.”
“Hey, it’s not your place to make her feel better about her conduct. Your duty is to yourself. It’s enough to take the blame for your own mistakes and neglect.”
His gaze flashed to hers and his face tightened. “I didn’t cheat. I didn’t lie.”
She patted his forearm in a show of support. “I know, but there are mistakes and regrets on both sides of any failed relationship.”
His gaze traveled over her face like a searchlight. “When was the last time you were in a committed relationship?”
With the discussion turned in her direction, she suddenly realized that her hand wasn’t simply resting on his arm. Her thumb made lazy circles in the hair and against his warm skin. She let go of him and brought her thoughts into sharper focus.
“Me? Let’s see. A while ago I was involved with an actor. He left me. I was a sobbing mess for a few days and I was totally depressed for a couple of weeks. But looking back now, I have to admit that he never made any commitment and I figured he’d leave me. I knew that Barry had a transient life. So, when his next job was with a touring company, he exited, stage left. What hurt the most was that he didn’t seem all that broken up about it.”
“You told your girlfriends, I suppose.”
“Of course!” She grinned at him. “They helped me to see that I wasn’t as clueless as I’d convinced myself I was. Lonnie asked if Barry had ever said at any time that he planned to stay in New York once his run with the show was over. She made me see that I’d filled in some blanks for myself that didn’t have his signature on them.”
“You think that’s what I’ve done? Let Carin take all the blame?”
“What I think . . . what I know is that breaking up sucks, no two ways about it. Although!” She held up a finger and gave him a wink. “There usually are two ways about it.”
He ran his tongue on the inside of his cheek and regarded her intently. She liked the way he looked at her as if she were a puzzle he was piecing together. Silence settled between them, but neither one of them tried to fill it. She really loved his glasses. They made his eyes even larger and his eyes were so sexy. That lovely aqua color that slanted more to the green spectrum this evening rather than the blue. He had a tiny scar on the left corner of his mouth. A childhood mishap? Her heart gave a little kick, responding to the infinitesimal change in the way he looked at her. His eyes had narrowed and his tongue peeked out to swipe his lower lip as his gaze fastened on her mouth. When he met her gaze again, it was clear to her that he wasn’t viewing her as a gal pal anymore. She liked it. Liked the expansion of his pupils that lent a darker edge to him. Sexuality looked damned good on him.
A whispery noise tore her gaze from his. A gray/blue cat with green eyes jumped fluidly from the top of the refrigerator and landed soundlessly on the countertop. She pranced to Matthew and rubbed against his shoulder, tail held high like a flag, and her unblinking gaze never left Zaney.
“Toodles, I presume.” Zaney reached over and stroked her head. “Aren’t you a gorgeous thing! She’s a Russian Blue.”
Matthew nodded. His mouth dropped open when the cat moved closer to Zaney and purred as Zaney continued to caress her head and scratch behind her small, triangular ears. “She doesn’t usually let strangers pet her like that.”
“You know a future devoted subject when you see one, don’t you, Your Highness? She’s beautiful, Matthew.”
“I can’t take any credit for that.”
Zaney laughed with him and they watched as the cat jumped off the island and stood by the swinging door. She meowed once as if giving a command.
“As you can see, she’s bossy.” Matthew stood and opened the kitchen door for Toodles, who disappeared into the dining room.
“You didn’t name her, did you?”
“Please.” He scowled playfully at her. “Do you really have to ask that?”
“Okay, so tell me before I leave, how many rooms are in this triplex.”
“I’ll do better than that. I’ll give you a tour.” He motioned for her to join him. “You’ve seen this floor. There’s a coat closet and a half-bath off the foyer over there. Let’s go to the next level.” He went to the far end of the living room where an open staircase led to the upper floors.
Following him, Zaney ascended to a short hallway with rooms on either side. She moved to the right where she glimpsed a pool table. Matt opened the door to the one on the left.
“This is the guest bedroom and bathroom and that’s the media room.”
Aside from the pool table, the media room’s main attributes were a theater-sized screen with four leather recliners in front of it and an old-timey popcorn cart in one corner. She glanced in at the spare bedroom with its off-white walls and large, framed photographs of Manhattan at night. The four-poster bed looked comfortable and inviting with its blue, pin-striped linens.
On the top floor, Matt stood back for her to step inside the master bedroom, done in navy blue, glossy black, and bright white.
“So, this is where the magic happens.”
He groaned behind her. “You did not just say that.”
She laughed. “Okay, so this is where the walk of shame begins.” Glancing back at him, she laughed again when he shook his finger at her. She admired the big closet where his clothes were neatly hung and folded, and then gasped at the master bath. “That shower! It’s humongous! You could throw an orgy in that thing.” She winced. Probably not the image she needed to invoke. Svelte, model bodies and naked Matt writhing amid the multiple nozzles in the shower flashed through her nimble mind before she shoved them aside. She spied something else. “Is that toilet one of those that has a heated seat and is also a bidet?”
“You got it.”
She made an “okay” sign of approval. “Well done, Mr. Birdsong.”
“So happy you approve.” He motioned across the hall. “My office is also on this floor. On the next level is a home gym, a laundry room, and another bathroom. And there you have it. Did it rise to your expectations?”
She tapped her chin, thoughtfully. “Do you have a basement? A dungeon, perhaps? A play room?”
He grinned. “What? Like Christian Grey? Sorry, no. But I could probably round up some handcuffs and I have a lot of ties, if that interests you.”
“The necktie thing was fun. I must admit, I’ve never looked at a man’s tie quite the same since. But keep the nipple clamps and butt plugs away from me.”
“Oh, you’re no fun,” he grouched, good-naturedly.
Fun. Oh, the fun that had been had here, she thought, running her fingers along the edge of the bed. He’d had so much practice and bodies to experiment on, he had to be a consummate lover by now. The linens were silky soft and there were no fewer than six pillows lined against the headboard. What did he do with all those pillows? Don’t go there. Don’t go there! She tipped back her head. “What’s that?”
He looked up. “That is a blackout shade that covers the skylight. Here, I’ll show you.” He opened a drawer in the bedside table. Pressing a button in it, a hum sounded above them and the black covering inched back to reveal the night sky and a few gray wisps of clouds.
“Oh! Why would you cover that up?”
“It’s great at night, but the sun blasting my eyeballs when I’m grabbing an afternoon nap or I’m sleeping late on Sunday morning isn’t so great.”
&
nbsp; “And you designed all of this?” She flung out her arms and pirouetted.
“Me and an architect and an interior designer, yes.”
“It’s lovely, Matthew. What was this building like when you bought it?”
“It needed a facelift, but it had good bones. I spent more than I’d budgeted for, but it’s been worth it.”
Downstairs on the main floor again, she moved toward the front door, glad that she’d stopped by because he seemed to be in a better mood. She turned to him and was struck again by the transformation achieved by those glasses, comfy jeans, t-shirt, and bare feet. “I’ve been wondering . . .” Naughtiness poked at her, dared her.
“Yes?” he asked with a lift of his brows.
“Is it true that girls make passes at men who wear glasses?”
He blinked owlishly and then gave her a slow grin. “You tell me. You making a pass at me, Zaney?”
“Me?” She blinked right back at him, fanning him with her lashes. “No way! We’re friends, remember? It’s just that I haven’t seen you in glasses before. And . . .” She glanced down at his toned, taut body. “. . . undressed.”
He glanced down at his toned, taut body. “I think I’m dressed.”
“Barefooted.”
He raised his hand and tapped the tip of her nose with his index finger. “I stand corrected. My feet, some of my arms, my neck and my head are, indeed, naked.”
A fluttery, completely weird laugh warbled out of her, making her blush. She must look and sound like she was having a lunatic moment. Obviously, she had lost any attractiveness he’d felt for her a few minutes ago. He’d just flicked her nose like he was her favorite uncle! How embarrassing.
“Yeah, well, I’ve given you a taste of what it’s like to have a woman friend. I hope you are duly impressed.” Then she did the dumbest thing ever! She stuck out her hand! Zaney stared at her appendage, wondering how it came to be presented to Matthew like that.
After a moment of leaving her hanging, he covered her hand with his, holding it instead of executing the customary business clench and release. “This might just work out between us.”
She’d been staring aghast at their joined hands before her gaze bounced up to his face. His fingers tightened on hers for a few moments before he released her. Her spirits drooped at the loss of contact.
“I hope so,” she said. Afraid of saying or doing something else mortifying, she waved. “G’night, Matthew.”
“Good night, Zaney,”
Even as she entered her apartment, she was aware that he stood in the doorway of his and watched her. Leaning against her closed door, she let out a long breath. “What just happened there, Zaney?”
Keeping this casual was going to be challenging. Just being in his bedroom had put all kinds of ideas in her head. More than once, she’d fought the urge to wrap her arms around him and snuggle against his t-shirt, against the muscles under that shirt, and rub her body against his to see if anything interesting popped up.
She groaned. Staying in the friend zone was going to be difficult, but she could do it. He needed her. Matthew Birdsong was a man weighted down with broken dreams and empty promises. As he was now, he wasn’t a fit companion for any woman. But once he freed himself from those chains, he’d be a man worthy of a good woman.
“I’m a good woman,” Zaney said with a smile and a roll of her eyes. “Just saying . . .”
Chapter 8
The Friendship Tightrope
Matthew didn’t even look up from the computer screen to see who had entered his office. He’d know those three sharp raps on his door anywhere.
“Is it four-thirty already?”
“Getting there.” Seth Anderson sat in one of the white, leather chairs in front of Matthew’s desk. “So how do you think our lunch meeting with Foster Mendoza went? Think he’ll give us a shot?”
“I think so. He’s flamboyant, but I don’t think he’s a bullshitter.” Matt closed the document he’d been working on and swiveled around to face his business partner. Seth had removed his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his pin-striped shirt to his elbows. His dark blue jacquard tie was askew. “I can’t see Zaney liking him as much as she does if he wasn’t a sincere kind of guy. He said he was impressed with our initial ideas on a campaign and I believe him.”
“Zaney.” Seth flashed the smile and dimples that had enticed many a woman to spread her legs for him. “That’s an odd name.”
“She’s one of a kind.” Matt gathered a few sheets of paper that he’d jotted notes on during the Mendoza lunch and scanned them. Foster had called the office earlier that week asking for a meeting and Matt had jumped on it, clearing his schedule and making himself available anytime, anywhere. If their agency could work out a deal with Mendoza, it could open other important doors for them.
“What kind of work does she do for Mendoza? Is she his assistant?”
“No. She’s the head dresser.” He chuckled at Seth’s confused expression. “I never heard of it either. She helps the models dress and undress at the fashion shows. There is more to it than that, but that’s it in a nutshell.”
“That’s a job I believe I’d enjoy.” His smirk was full of mischief. “Sounded like Mendoza depends on her a lot. That’s why I got the impression that she was his personal assistant. She’s your neighbor?”
“Yes. She’s the girl I told you about who said she wanted us to be friends.”
“Oh, shit!” Seth’s mouth fell open. “That’s her?”
“Yes. Why the shock?”
“The way Mendoza went on about her, I got the impression she was extra fine womanhood. With you talking about being her friend, I figured she must be lacking in the looks department.”
“I assure you, she’s not. And you’re a chauvinist asshole for assuming it.”
“Noted.” He was still smirking. “Mendoza sure sang her praises, didn’t he? That stuff about how she put her heart and passion into everything and everyone who means anything to her. Oh, and how she’s independent and an original thinker.” He snapped his fingers. “Yeah, yeah, and when he said that a woman like her can intimidate a man who isn’t totally confident in himself. It was like he was challenging you. Has she told him that you two are palzie-walzie?”
“I don’t know. Probably.”
“By the time he’d finished describing her, I had an appetite more for her than for the lobster I’d ordered and I haven’t even laid eyes on her.”
Matt stared at the notes in his hands, but Zaney’s face filled his inner vision. Her big, expressive eyes, cute, freckled nose, luscious, soft lips. His cock ached. “You know how people talk about someone having ‘it’?” He glanced up to catch Seth’s nod. “Well, she’s got ‘it.’ She walks into a room and it’s like a spotlight hits her. We went to a club one night and she was on the dance floor the whole, damned time. I got one dance with her.” He held up his index finger, then switched to the middle one when Seth smirked at him. “And I don’t think she’s even aware of the attention she gets. She’s one of those women who men gravitate to and women like to be around.”
“That’s rare,” Seth agreed. “Usually, it’s one or the other.” He checked his watch. “So, have you fucked her yet?”
“Uh. No. I told you. She wants to be friends.” He tried to have a bland expression on his face when Seth’s gaze landed on him. But Seth knew him better than anyone.
“Right, so why haven’t you fucked her?”
Matt let his head fall back and stared at the textured ceiling. “I agreed to give this friendship a try, okay? But I have been thinking a lot about her. Even with Carin buzzing around and asking forgiveness, I’ve found myself hoping to bump into Zaney. She’s fun to be around. She’s always got something interesting to say and she’s funny. She makes me think.”
Seth was quiet for a few moments. “Okay, but does she make you have a stiffy, too?”
Matthew sat up straight again and cleared his throat. “Yes, but that’s normal.” F
rowning at Seth’s goofy grin, he leaned forward. “Have you ever had a woman friend?”
“I have.” Seth brushed his shirt sleeve down and buttoned it. “But it’s tricky. If you like a woman enough to be her friend, then you really, really like her.” He tugged down the other sleeve, glanced at Matt, and secured it. “If you really, really like her, then you want to bone her. When you get her into bed, then the friendship thing gets tangled into a big mess of feelings. It didn’t end well for me. We slept together a few times, but it didn’t click for us and I haven’t seen or heard from her in a couple of years.”
“Who was this?” Suddenly, Matt knew the answer. “Ashley?”
“Yeah. Ashley.” His sigh was heavy with regret. “I liked her. Wish I’d never fucked her.”
Matt felt Seth’s remorse. He’d forgotten until now that Seth and Ashley had started off as chums. He’d met the bubbly brunette at a hockey game. They’d had season tickets and she and her girlfriend had sat in front of Seth’s seats. It had been fun and friendly all through the hockey season and then they’d started sleeping together. “I always wondered why you’d stopped seeing her,” Matt said. “I could tell that you two liked each other. I assumed that the relationship played itself out.”
“We were great as friends, but as lovers we sucked. I like it rough and dirty, you know? Well, she liked it playful with plenty of foreplay and cuddling afterward.” He made a face. “I’ve got no stomach for that. When I started pounding it out, she’d make squeaky noises and tell me to slow down. It was a total buzz kill.”
Matt couldn’t imagine not enjoying himself in bed with Zaney Miller. He could easily picture them in several positions, sweaty and panting and having mind-blowing orgasms. “I don’t think that would be a problem for us.”
“Why? Does she make you plank in your pants?”
“Yes.”
“Then how is she a pal, Matt? Get real, man. You won’t be able to keep this friendship thing going. You might as well get straight with her, no pun intended. You’re going to want to test those waters.”