by Deborah Camp
Should have broken the ice before now, he thought. Then he wouldn’t be so tense. He could have called while she’d been gone, but he hadn’t. What he shouldn’t have done was stalk away from her that night like a petulant child. He regretted that, but she’d gotten to him with her comment about not paying enough attention to Carin.
Carin, the drama queen, would never have enough attention paid to her. He’d learned that lesson well – and too late. They’d already been married when her excessive need to be the center of attention had begun to feel like a ball and chain. Her insecurities drove her to not only crave love, but also to be worshipped and adored.
The click of a lock opening snapped him from his reverie. The door to Zaney’s apartment opened to release a red-haired vision in tight, olive jeans and a cool, contemporary green army jacket over a tan pullover sweater. Brown suede boots with leather ties that crisscrossed up to her knees completed the ensemble. Hip and banging hot. His mouth watered and his cock tried to lunge in her direction. Her smile was sweet and familiar. It made his heart leap.
“Hello.” He moved toward her, holding out his hand, which she took, her fingers cool against his warmer skin. “You look good enough to eat.”
A bubble of laughter broke from her peach-colored lips. “Really?” She glanced down at herself. “Jeans, sweater, and a jacket? It’s all Foster’s doing. He designed these pieces.”
“They’re nice, but it’s the woman wearing them that makes them look delicious.”
Her cheeks pinked up and she took a little step back to sweep him up and down with green eyes that he’d missed gazing into. “You look pretty tasty yourself there, Birdsong.” She fingered his sweater sleeve. “Cashmere. Is it Tom Ford?”
“You nailed it.”
She shrugged. “It’s a skill every dresser masters.” She eyed his outfit again. “I imagine you’ll be getting a few phone numbers pressed into your palm tonight.”
Her comment, however light and airy, felt like cold water thrown into his face. His whole body tensed and he felt the corners of his mouth dip. He didn’t like for her to talk like that about him when they were going out together. It cheapened how he felt about her. He shook his head in a gentle admonishment. “Not interested,” he whispered, and puzzlement pinched a line between her eyes. “Tonight, I’m all yours, Miss Miller.”
“Oh?” The confusion merged into something else. Something that made her eyes widen slightly. “Oh! Well, in that case . . .” She hooked her arm in his. “Does this mean we’re friends again?”
“Were we ever not friends?” he countered.
“Last time I saw you, you refused to share a cab with me.”
He made lazy circles in the air with his free hand. “A distant memory. Tonight, I’ve hired a car to take us to Foster’s.” He opened the street door and stepped out into the dusky night and a breeze that had a bite to it. A sleek limo purred at the curb. “Our carriage awaits, my lady.” He opened the back door and held her hand as she slid onto the leather seat. He sat near her, resisting the urge to slide up against her, put his arm around her, and nuzzle the side of her neck. To drink her in like a tall class of chilled champagne. To get a buzz off her. Instead, he gave the driver Foster’s address on Cranberry Street in Brooklyn Heights and kept his hands to himself.
“This party is for everyone to meet Foster’s new flame. Did he tell you that?”
“Yes, he did. He and Seth are two of a kind right now. They’re both walking around with stars in their eyes.”
“Kismet,” she murmured.
“Stop,” he growled, but let her see his smile when he said it.
“Seth hasn’t convinced you yet that it’s love at first sight with my girl Lonnie?”
“Lust at first sight, you mean. Lonnie’s a looker. He likes her a lot, but who wouldn’t?” When she made a disparaging sound, he chuckled and captured her hand. Her fingers felt delicate. The brush of her palm against his was almost erotic. “Do you truly believe that people can fall in love in an instant?”
“I truly do.” She scowled playfully at his cynical expression. “I happen to know a couple who saw each other across a crowded room, migrated to each other, and have been married fifty-five years. They both said they knew instantly that they’d marry.” Her smile became a cute smirk. “My grandparents.”
He let his shoulders sag right along with his smile. “How can I debate that? I mean, I can’t call your grandparents foolish, can I? These are your mother’s parents?”
“Yes. Gramps and Grand were made for each other and nobody who knows them doubts it. However, I understand that they could be a rare exception. Probably are, in fact.” She slipped her hand from his to adjust her purse’s shoulder strap. He sensed her sudden onslaught of nerves. “Matthew, I want to get this out of the way. I’m sorry for hurting your feelings the last time we were together.”
“It’s okay, Zaney.” He shook his head, not wanting to spoil the night with yesterday’s missteps.
“You’re absolutely right about me not knowing what transpired between you and Carin. I should keep my mouth shut. It’s a lesson I’m trying to learn.”
“Please, don’t change.” He shifted on the seat to see her face. “I like that you’re honest with me and that you speak your mind.”
“I don’t want a wedge between us. I thought of you so often while I was away. I missed seeing you. Hearing from you.”
He shouldn’t take such joy in that, he thought, but he wallowed in it, nonetheless. “I missed you, too.”
“Did you?” Her eyes were so bright. Feverish.
“Well, I mostly missed Frito.”
She made a face and gave his shoulder a playful push in exasperation. “I thought of calling you a million times.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because what I had to say to you was important. I needed to see your face. Texting wouldn’t let me do that. And I didn’t want to look at you on a phone screen either because an apology is important. Phones are impersonal.”
“That’s so you, Zaney,” he said, laughing a little. “There’s nothing wrong with a little friction between two intelligent, opinionated people. We can handle it.” He flicked her bangs away from her eyes. “I shouldn’t have stalked off like that. I felt like a damned fool later.”
She pressed her hand to her heart and released a long breath. “I feel better now. I’m glad we’re moving on from it.”
“So, am I. Now let’s talk about something else.”
“Okay. I haven’t met Foster’s lover man, but I’m told that he’s handsome and very wealthy.”
“Like me,” he teased.
“Are you very wealthy?”
“Well, sort of wealthy,” he amended.
“Good on you,” she quipped. “Your hard work has paid off.”
He smirked. “Like you haven’t already ‘Googled’ to see what I’m worth.”
One of her brows arched in mild affront. “Actually, I haven’t. I like to get to know a person by how they behave around me. So, no. I didn’t Google you.” She ducked her head to peer past him. “We’re here. I love Foster’s brownstone. This is a charming street.”
“One of New York’s best,” he agreed, thinking that Zaney Miller was also one of New York’s best. And she was his date. He opened the door and climbed out of the limo, then helped her emerge from the back seat. She ran a hand over her hair and a floral/spicy scent lifted from her pulse points.
Foster’s place was lit like the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree with white lights twinkling from a multitude of chandeliers and wall sconces. Waiters decked out in tuxedoes and black t-shirts flitted from guest to guest, carrying trays of drinks and hors d’oeuvres. A very tall man in a black and gray tux met them at the door, welcomed them, checked their invitations, and then motioned them further inside with a “You both look splendid and Foster insists that you enjoy the evening” greeting.
“Sounds like Foster,” Zaney noted with a grin, rising on tiptoe to
survey the guests.
With his height advantage, Matt located Seth and Lonnie a few feet from them. They were engaged in watching runway fashions on a wall-sized TV screen. Matt bent closer to Zaney. He liked that the top of her head brushed under his chin. “I see our pals over there. Come on.” He took her hand and dodged around people until they stood next to Seth and Lonnie.
“Hey, there you are!” Lonnie swung an arm around Zaney’s shoulders and kissed her cheek. “It’s always a relief to see that you’re still on your feet after Fashion Week.” She grinned at Matt. “Hi, handsome. You two look great together. Don’t they, Sethy?”
Sethy? Matt rolled his lips in to keep his laughter inside.
“Sethy?” Zaney said for him with a giggle. “Cute.”
“Sexy Sethy,” Lonnie quipped, linking arms with Seth, who was grinning like a kid who had just received his first blow job. Oh, God. Matt blinked, focusing more keenly on his partner. Zaney was right. These two had jumped into the deep end already and were happily drowning.
“Did you take a night off from work?” Zaney asked.
“For Foster’s big bash? I sure did. I took tomorrow night off, too. The troupe can do without me a couple of nights.”
“It will make them appreciate you even more,” Zaney said. Lonnie would be missed. She was one of the best dressers in the business. “Have you seen Foster?”
“Yes. He was holding court over by the fireplace a few minutes ago. His significant other is something! Like a distinguished grizzly bear.”
“I’m dying to meet him,” Zaney said, turning in half circles to look around for her boss and his new main squeeze. “Gary says he’s a ‘big daddy.’ You get that, right?”
“Duh. Yeah.” Lonnie rolled her eyes. “I’m an adult who has access to porn.” She wrinkled her nose at Seth when he laughed and her smile went from saucy to dreamy. “Have I told you how handsome you are this evening?”
Seth kissed her, humming with pleasure throughout. Matt slanted his gaze to Zaney and they shook their heads in unison.
“You two are verging on being annoying,” Zaney said in her no-holds-barred way. “If you don’t watch out you’re going to be one of those couples everyone dreads seeing. Invitations will dry up. Friends and relatives will make faces behind your backs.”
“Can it, Miller,” Lonnie said, coming up for air. “You’re just jealous.”
“No, I’m honest.” She paused, glancing up at the chandelier twinkling overhead, and then nodded. “Okay, I’m a smidgen jealous.”
“Zaney!” Foster’s voice sliced through the din. “Zaney is here, everyone!” He came toward them, parting the crowd. Bedecked for the evening in a wine-red suit and a pink polka dot t-shirt, he looked like a human Valentine. He held the hand of a massive, dark-skinned man. About Matt’s height, the guy was a mountain with wide shoulders, thick neck and arms, and round chest that was probably bulging with muscles. Conservatively dressed all in black – slacks, collarless shirt, and patent leather loafers – he personified refinement in his comportment. His closely clipped, ebony, curling beard and mustache had touches of silver, as did his sideburns and shortly shorn black hair. His facial features were strongly African, but when he spoke, in a sonorous voice, his accent was a product of the Caribbean.
“Zaney, cupcake, this is Kahleem Izrad. Kahleem, this is my Zaney.”
“Ah. Delighted.” He took her hand gently and kissed the back of it, his brown eyes never wavering from her face. “My darling Foster thinks highly of you. Therefore, so do I.”
“And these two gorgeous fellows are working on our Bloomingdale ads, sweetheart. Seth Anderson and Matthew Birdsong.”
“Foster, you remember Lonnie O’Grady, don’t you?” Zaney asked.
“Yes, yes!” Foster kissed Lonnie’s cheek. “Wonderful to see you again, lovely Lonnie.”
The men all shook hands and Matt took the opportunity to ask Kahleem, “Is that accent from Antigua perhaps?”
“Antigua and St. Kitts,” Kahleem said. “You have a good ear. Most people simply assume I’m from South Africa, or sometimes, England, if they are very far off base.”
Voices grew louder and Matt realized that Foster and Kahleem had brought with them a boisterous entourage. As more joined them, several people embraced Zaney, giving her big, happy hugs before passing her to the next person. With each new hugger, Zaney announced their names, each time sounding ecstatic to see them.
“Johnny! Ron! Maureen! Carter! Shannon! Barney!”
Foster snagged a waiter and shoved a glass of champagne in Zaney’s gesturing hand and then offered another flute to Matt. He took it, content to watch Zaney laugh and giggle, talk shop with her coworkers and friends, elbow them when they told a bad joke or said something too catty, and catch his eye every so often to toss him a smile. A special smile? He liked to think so. Her eyes sparkled differently when she looked at him – sort of flirty. Yes, her smile for him was unlike the others she tossed about. The one she reserved for him was several degrees warmer. She motioned him closer and introduced him to a few of the people clustered around her. It occurred to him that Zaney was what Carin wanted desperately to be – likable. Routinely lovable, even. It came natural to Zaney to genuinely care about people and what they had to say. Not so for Carin. She wanted people to hang on her words, be interested in her life, ask her questions.
After another few minutes, Seth pulled him away to speak to another fashion icon guest of Foster’s who was interested in hiring them. They discussed her needs, her vision, and her timeline.
“We might have found a lucrative niche,” Seth whispered to him as they moved away from the potential client. “Hey, Lonnie and I are going to duck out of here.”
“Why? Where are you going?” Matt asked, faux innocently.
“None of your business, ass hat.” Seth motioned to Lonnie and she sauntered to him, her alluring curves swathed in creamy leather slacks and a gold, mohair sweater. She laced her fingers on top of his shoulder and pressed her front to his side. “Ready to move this party somewhere more private, babe?”
“You bet I am.” She kissed his ear and ran the tip of her tongue along the shell of it.
Seth wrapped his arm around her waist. “See you later, Matt. Gotta run.”
“You be nice to my BFF,” Lonnie said, pinning Matt with a hard stare.
“I assume you’re speaking about Zaney. Or has Seth become your best friend forever?”
“Zaney.” She slid her forefinger down the bridge of Seth’s nose. “Seth is my man. My lover man.” She sighed and turned back to Matt, regarding him with narrowed eyes. “Zee is transparent, if you hadn’t noticed, so watch out. You might have your feelings under lock and key, but she doesn’t.”
He had no comeback for that and could only cock an eyebrow in a tense standoff before Seth led Lonnie away and out the front door.
“Are you a model or what?”
Matt glanced at the man who had stopped beside him. He recognized him as one of Zaney’s coworkers. “I’m an or what.” He offered his hand and they shook. “Gary, right?”
“Right. You came tonight with Zaney.” He stuffed the tips of his fingers in the pockets of his leather pants. “She’s my girl.”
“Is she?”
“You know what I’m saying. We work together and we have each other’s backs. She’s a babe.”
“Absolutely.” He wondered where this was headed. Another warning to be nice to Zaney Miller?
Gary gave him the side-eye, then snapped his fingers. “Hey, you’re the man friend. Matthew, the neighbor!”
“That’s me.”
“Oh. Okay. That’s cool, then.” He clapped Matt on the back. “I thought you might be aiming to shag her and I wanted you to know that she’s not a one-time-and-done girl. She leads with her heart, man.” He pointed his finger at Matt’s nose. “With her heart.”
As Gary strolled toward a group of other leather-clad guys, Matt contemplated his unsolicited advice. First, Lon
nie, and now Gary. Did they sense that he was feeling more than friendship toward Zaney? He found a quiet space near the white baby grand piano and drank another glass of champagne and ate some Thai shrimp on a skewer, a banana split canape, and a cucumber rollup stuffed with crabmeat while he tried not to let his tender feelings toward Zaney unnerve him.
Glancing around, he noticed a strawberry blond with Artic blue eyes headed his way. He heaved a weary sigh, recognizing the model he’d met last spring and hoping she didn’t make a scene. Lenaya was too young for him – nineteen – and rambunctious. She’d jumped on his bed like it was a trampoline and then rode him like he was made of steel instead of flesh and bone. Christ, he was getting too old for this shit. The thought stuck in his mind like a thorn. Weariness settled in him at Lenaya’s steady approach.
She stopped in front of him, along with a pouty-lipped, raven-haired seductress. They were both dressed oddly. Lenaya’s pale pink bra and thong were displayed through a diaphanous knee-length cape. She also had on actual ballet toe shoes with pink ribbon ties. She introduced her friend – Hazel? Havel? Hamel? Something he didn’t quite catch and didn’t really care to have her repeat. She wore torn strips of black leather strategically placed to make her decent. Her black, stiletto boots were thigh-high.
“You look good,” Lenaya said in a nasally monotone.
“Thanks.” He glanced around, trying to give her the message that she could move on. He wished he could snag Zaney and make an exit.
“You’re good in bed, too. I remember.” She looked at her friend. “He has a good-sized peen and knows how to use it. I O’d like three times with him.”
Her friend pursed her lips and nodded. “Three. That’s optimal.”
“Totally.”
Matthew wondered if anyone would notice if he dropped to his hands and knees and crawled under the piano to escape them. He suddenly felt dirty.
“Here.” Lenaya grabbed his hand, and before he knew what was going on, she wrote something on his palm.
“Hey, hey. What are you doing?” He jerked out of her grasp and stared at the squiggled lines. Three numbers.