by Reagan Shaw
Fuck, last night had been too much to handle. I’d been seconds from fucking her up against that tree. Whenever she was around, I lost goddamn control. That wasn’t part of this plan. Never fucking mind that Marc would be back this weekend and wanted to hang out.
If my buddy found out… Fuck, thinking about that wasn’t an option. And I had to apologize to Erika for last night. Make things right. Less awkward, if that was possible. I didn’t want her to lose this job.
I halted outside her small office and straightened my lab coat, checked my reflection in the silvery door’s surface. Finally, I knocked—a quick rap of my knuckles.
“Come in,” Erika said.
I entered and shut the door behind myself.
Erika looked up from her phone, pale in the face, and her eyelids were puffy and red. Had she been crying? She stowed her cell in her coat pocket and nodded to me. “Morning,” she said curtly. “Can I help you with something?”
“Maybe.” I walked to the chrome chair in front of her desk. I sat down and ignored the squeak of complaint from the metal. “You OK?”
“Sure,” she said. “Why wouldn’t I be?” She forced a smile.
“Erika, you’ve been crying.”
“What I have or haven’t been doing is none of your business, Dr. Cox. Now, is there something specific you wanted to talk about?”
“Last night,” I spat. Christ, why did she have to be this defensive? Sure, I’d been an ass to her in high school, ignored her throughout college, hardly given her a second glance at family gatherings, but that was all for good reason. If I’d done the opposite of those things, she would’ve had her heart broken over and over again.
I’d seen too much not to realize that love was a one-way ticket to hell. Relationships fail. Bitterness was inevitable.
Erika pressed her hand to her forehead and I watched her—the wrinkles that formed along her brow, the downturn of those full, delicious lips, the same ones she’d wrapped around my cock a month ago. Fuck, stop it.
“I have nothing to say about last night,” she said, at last. “I thought I made it clear that there was nothing to discuss.”
“Let me rephrase,” I said, changing my tack. “We didn’t get off to a great start.”
“In life or just in this hospital?”
I snorted. “Let’s say both.” I’d been born with a silver spoon in my mouth, but money wasn’t the world. “I want to start again.”
“I don’t see how that’s possible.”
“Look, Erika, I know you think I’m a dicknozzle,” I started.
She gasped a laugh. “That’s one way of putting it.” The smile on her face made this entire visit worth it. Puffy-eyed and smiling was better than plain puffy-eyed.
“You think I’m a dick, I get that, and I’m not going to try prove you wrong. I am a dick. I’m a fantastically large one.” I refrained from adding, “as you already know.” “But, I would like to make sure our working situation is pleasant and easy. Despite what you might think, I really don’t want to sabotage you. I do enjoy working in this hospital, and I know you will too. You’re Marc’s little sister, and I’d never do anything to fuck with him or his family. I’m sure you know that.”
Erik pressed her lips together and released them slowly. “You’ve always been supportive of Marky Moo,” she said softly.
“Ha, exactly. So, let me make all of this crap up to you. We’re in this situation now, however serendipitous it might be,” I continued, ignoring another pang of guilt in my stomach. “I want to take you out tonight.”
“What?” Her jaw dropped.
Oh, please close that gorgeous mouth. “Not a date, Gray,” I said. “As a colleague. Take you out and show you around New York. Take you to Gray’s Papaya. You ever had a dog from there?”
“No,” she said, but perked up. “But I’ve heard of it. I—uh, I’ll admit I’ve been somewhat fascinated by New York ever since Friends first aired.”
“Oh, I bet you’re a binge-watcher.”
“Heck yeah, I am!” Erika grinned, and that unbridled happiness stunned me. She was even more beautiful happy. “I’ve probably watched all ten seasons like twenty times. No joke.”
My mind insisted I make a snarky comment about how much time she’d wasted. I bit back on it. It was time to play nice, not push her away. “Cool,” I managed, and without sarcasm too. I was proud of myself for that. “What do you say? I’ll take you to, uh, some coffee shops. We can check out Central Park, go out to eat, maybe do some dancing. It will be fun.”
“Dancing, huh?” Erika asked.
“Yeah, why not?”
The smile grew wider. “All right, I’ll go. Sounds like a fun night.” She paused and swished a finger through the air. “With a colleague.”
“Right. With a colleague.” I rose from my seat and winked at her. “Pick you up at eight o’clock. Message me your address.”
“Will do.”
I made for the door and left her office behind, unable to drop memories of her as easily. I found my consultation room and entered, shut the door, and rested my back against it. Fuck it. Why was this so difficult? I’d never faked shit before, and being around Erika brought back all those memories.
Memories of her. Of Marc’s warning. Of that day.
Noah – Aged 18
* * *
One more month, and I was out of Syracuse. Out of this shithole and on to bigger things. I stood in the kitchen in Marc’s parents’ house and leaned my elbows on the marble tabletop. Marc was upstairs, changing after football practice, while I waited for his slow ass to get down here.
We had a date with two gorgeous cheerleaders, neither of which particularly struck my fancy. Christ, no one struck my fancy. Except for one girl.
And she had no idea I could see her, sitting at the small table outside, reading one of her favorite books. I assumed it was a favorite, since she took it with her everywhere lately. Lord of the Rings. Classic.
I chuckled under my breath, tracing her features with my gaze.
Tight body, shrouded by a loose T-shirt, and cutoff jean shorts. Christ, she had no idea the effect she had on me, and I’d keep it that way. For now.
She licked her thumb and turned a page. That small action sent the blood rushing from my head to the tip of my dick.
Why was it like this with her?
Because she was the only junior in the school who didn’t fall over when I looked at her? Because she was out of bounds as my best friend’s little sister? Little, huh. She was only one year behind me, so fucking attainable, yet so out of reach.
Footsteps sounded behind me and I straightened, barely tearing my gaze from Erika in time.
“You ready to go?” Marc asked and clapped a hand down on my shoulder.
“Sure,” I said, and grinned. “You’re the one who needed to shower.”
“I like to be clean for the ladies,” Marc replied and wriggled his eyebrows up and down. Such a fucking card.
“So you can get dirty all over again?”
“Ha, I’m not you, Noah,” he said, and nudged me. “You want a bottle of water?” He walked past me and up to the fridge, just as the back door opened and Erika entered.
“Sure.”
Marc peered into the fridge, ignoring his sister. She stopped dead at the sight of me, hugged her book to her chest, staring from behind those cute, square-cut glasses.
“Reading again, four-eyes?” I asked.
Any softness that’d been in her expression evaporated. “That’s right,” she replied. “You should try it sometime, beefcake. Might up your grade average and get you into a better school.”
She’d always had a comeback. Another quality that appealed to me. Smart as a whip, gorgeous, totally unaware of the effect she had on me. Not just unaware, she didn’t seem to care. Heck, she didn’t even like me. That was what made her so irresistible.
“A better school?” I said. “I’m premed.”
“You’re wasting your time,” she
replied. “What do you want to be a doctor for? Plastic surgery?” She was so fucking hostile, all the time. I wanted to kiss the complaints out of her. Replace them with gasps and moans. Fuck!
“Why, are you looking for a consultation?” I asked.
She huffed and stamped her foot, that silvery blonde hair swaying behind her. “You’re detestable.”
I laughed as she swept toward me. Marc returned with the two water bottles and shook his head at us. He’d grown used to my constant hazing of his sister, probably figured I just didn’t dig her annoying us.
“You’d better run along now, kiddo,” I said, reinforcing that belief. “The grown-ups are trying to have a conversation.”
Erika rolled her eyes this time, gave a snort. “It saddens me that you think you’re a grown-up. Didn’t I hear you and Marc participating in a farting competition the other day?”
Marc choked on his water, laughing. “Come on, Erika.”
“Whatever,” she said and shrugged, then leaned past me, arm outstretched. Her breast brushed against my shirt.
“What are you doing?” I asked, jerking back a step like she’d stung me.
“Um, getting my book bag?” She swayed it off the table, then over one shoulder. “Some of us around here take our schoolwork seriously.” And with that, she walked off, swaying her hips, the skin beneath her shorts a temptation. I stared after her and clutched the barstool in front of the counter.
So fucking perfect. So bitchy. So everything I could never have.
Marc cleared his throat, and I looked over at him.
He held the water bottle in one hand, raising an eyebrow at me. “What was that?” he asked.
“What?”
“That,” he replied. “That stare you just gave my sister. What was that about?”
“Nothing.” I shrugged. “She’s just annoying. Always in the way.” I grabbed for the water, unscrewed the cap and glugged some of it down to cover my lie.
“Uh-huh,” Marc said, but his expression told another story. He didn’t buy it for a second. “I’m going to say this one last time and then never again, Noah. You stay the fuck away from my sister. Got that?”
“Dude, what are you talking about? We’ve literally got a date with two hotties in a half hour.”
“Sure,” Marc replied, “but I’m not blind. You keep away from her, because if you touch her, man, that’s it for us. Look, you’re a good friend, you’re just—you know how you are. You’re a heartbreaker, and Erika’s better than that.”
Better than me? Sweet, that was always an ego boost. “Ease up, buddy. I don’t want your sister. Dude, she’s a fucking nerd, all right? I’m not into that. I’m not a Velma type of guy.”
“Good. Keep it that way,” Marc said. “Now, let’s get the fuck outta here.”
I followed him out of the house but spared a glance back at the staircase, as I always did when I left the place. Erika’s room was at the end of the hall. She stood in the doorway, tears in her eyes. She caught my gaze then disappeared inside and slammed the door shut.
If she didn’t hate me before, she certainly did now.
Mission accomplished.
Erika
Present day
* * *
I slipped on the red dress and turned in a circle, checking my reflection in Luna’s bedroom mirror. “I don’t know,” I said. “It’s a bit risqué. This is a friendly meeting, not a date, Luna.”
“Like hell it’s a friendly meeting,” Luna said quietly, and tossed her red locks over her shoulder. She’d always reminded me of the lead singer from Paramore, except she had a terrible singing voice and a laugh that would’ve put a donkey to shame. “Come on, Ricky, you know he’s into you. I mean, you slept together.”
“One time,” I said, “and that was a huge mistake. He was just playing games with me. He knows that I’ve always had a crush on him, and it’s just—”
“You’re making excuses. You like him, and he likes you. Haven’t you ever heard that there’s a thin line between love and hate?” Luna got up and gripped me by the shoulders. She swept my hair back from my face. “Come on, you’ve got to wear this. You’ve got the boobs for it, and god knows I look like a fire truck whenever I try fit into this dress. Red hair and red dress just don’t go well together.”
“Liar,” I said, and touched her hand on my shoulder. “You always look amazing.”
Luna tossed her hair and fluttered her lashes at me. “Not as gorgeous as you look tonight,” she said. “Now, let’s do your makeup. He said he was taking you dancing?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Yeah, definitely not a work-colleague thingy. Dancing is like fucking with clothes on,” Luna said. It was always odd when those nasty words came out of her soft-spoken mouth. “He wants it, and I suggest you go ahead and let him have it.”
“I’m not as sexually free as you are, Luna.”
“You mean, you’re not a connoisseur in the art of ho? Regrettable,” she replied, sighing. “Let’s go with a smoky eye. Oooh! Yes, and then the red lip to match. You’re going to look like a siren.”
I sat down in front of Luna’s dresser in her Manhattan apartment, and looked out of the gorgeous windows at the view of glittering lights as she worked her magic. Luna came from a rich family who’d bought the two-bedroom apartment for her, and that backing had allowed her to follow her dream: becoming a makeup artist. She’d studied cosmetology, then moved on to movie makeup. In fact, she’d provided makeup for some of the most popular shows on television, including The Walking Dead.
“Just don’t make me look like a zombie,” I said, as she leaned down in front of me, her lips pursed and makeup brush poised.
“You’d be the sexiest zombie to roam the earth.”
Half an hour later, I was done, and I slipped on a pair of Luna’s heels, Louboutins in fact, and admired myself in the mirror. “I am way overdressed,” I said.
“Trust me, you’re not.”
“OK, but if he turns up in a pair of jeans and flip-flops…”
“Then we’ll slam the door in his face,” Luna replied.
God, all her talk about this being a date had actually gotten to me. And it wasn’t even a date. It was just two friends, or rather, enemies, hanging out. I had to keep telling myself that. And that I didn’t even like Noah as a person. Liar.
“You’ve got five minutes. One last glass of wine before you go? Dutch courage?” Luna asked, and bustled off to the kitchen to make good on that.
The doorbell rang, and my heart leaped into my throat. “I’ll get it,” I called out, and walked out of Luna’s bedroom and past my own, through the open living room and adjoined kitchen, and to the front door.
“You got this,” Luna whispered, peering at me from the kitchen’s doorway.
“Shush.” I pulled back the chain, clicked the lock, then opened up and lost my damn breath.
Noah stood in front of the door, his hands in the pockets of his suit pants, a Rolex on his arm, and the sleeves of his button-down shirt rolled up to his elbows, exposing his muscled forearms. Yeah, I hadn’t overdressed. In fact, we matched perfectly. My gaze darted over his body, from head to toe, then settled on his face.
He stared at me, every part of me, participating in a similar examination of his own. Finally, he met my gaze and exhaled. “Jesus,” he said.
“Erika, actually,” I replied.
He gave a raw chuckle. “You look fucking amazing.”
“Told you,” Luna called from the kitchen.
“Roommate?” Noah asked.
“Possible Russian spy,” I replied, nodding.
“Then we’d better get out of here before she attaches a bug to your handbag.”
“Too late,” Luna yelled, again, in that breathy never-too-loud tone. “Bye, girl, have a good night. And you, uh, doctor dude. You watch your ass, all right?”
“I’ll try,” he muttered, once again running his gaze over my body. I prickled all over and took a step toward hi
m. “Ready to go?” Noah asked.
I nodded again. It was too difficult to talk with him this close by and this friggin’ gorgeous. We walked together toward the elevator at the end of the short hall. “This is a nice building,” Noah said. “You lived here long?”
“Uh, just since I got the job. Luna put me up, since I’m in the process of getting my shit together. Otherwise I’d be out on my ass. You know how my mom and dad are about paying their bills instead of ours.”
“Right,” Noah said, “Marc told me about that. He said he built everything from scratch himself. No start-up loan from the ’rents, hardly any support.”
“That’s right. The only thing they helped us with was our education. The rest was up to us. Don’t get me wrong, they probably would’ve taken me in if I’d returned to Syracuse…”
“Yeah, but what thirty-four-year-old wants to do that?” Noah asked.
“None I know. Not willingly at least. So, Luna’s it is, until I’ve got enough saved up to put down money on an apartment.” I hazarded a smile. This topic was way too close to home, and I couldn’t picture myself talking to Noah in a hallway about what had happened with Jason.
Could I even picture myself talking to him about it at all?
Thankfully, he didn’t follow up on that line of questioning. Instead, we entered the elevator and took it down to the ground floor. Five minutes later, we were on our way to whichever place he’d chosen for us. His thigh was pressed against mine, and I couldn’t help the sense of overwhelm threatening me.
Touching him was a bad fucking idea. This entire night was a bad fucking idea.
“This is it,” Noah said, as we pulled up outside a club. The words “Havana Nights” flashed in red above the door. “Salsa club. You’re going to love it.” He slipped out of the cab and around to my side, then let me out. He paid the driver, took my arm, and walked me toward the door.
The bouncer gave Noah a thumbs-up and let us past the long line outside without another word. How many other women had he brought to this club? How many had he danced with and felt up? It doesn’t matter. This isn’t a date.