They both smiled at me, and Phoebe started to invite herself along, so I quickly changed my story. "I actually meant, I'm going to ask that guy over there to dance."
I waved my finger vaguely in the direction of the bar, and Dave craned his neck to peer past me. "Which one?"
"That one."
"Which?"
Fine. Dave was being overprotective. I turned around and scanned the bar. There was a guy in a suit holding a beer and sort of looking around, like he was hoping to see someone he knew. I started to point to him, and then stopped. He was the kind of guy my parents would like. Was that why I went after guys in suits? Because subconsciously I was still trying to do what my parents wanted me to?
Whoa. That would be a total sign of weakness. I wasn't weak. I wasn't a McCormick—at least according to my parents. So forget it. No more men in suits. I scanned the crowd again. There was the slick breast-starer who'd approached me before. Why not him? My parents would cringe. I pointed. "Him."
Dave and Phoebe stared. "Really?"
"Yep. I'll show you I'm not conservative. He'll think I'm a sex goddess." As I started to march across the room, it did occur to me that perhaps there were some flaws in my thinking, but I decided not to worry about them for the moment.
I was about to discover the true Shannon. I couldn't let some sort of conscience or logic interfere with that kind of catharsis.
I marched straight up to the breast-starer, and it did occur to me in the back recesses of my mind, that I really wasn't the type to ask a guy to dance. In fact, I wasn't sure I'd ever asked a guy to dance.
Hmm...
I stopped, my hand hovering over his shoulder. I thought that perhaps, just perhaps, this wasn't the best idea.
Then he turned around and looked right at me.
Chapter Nine
I panicked. And froze.
Which meant my hand was still in the air, but now it was almost mashing his chin, since he'd turned around and all. He lifted a black eyebrow and inspected my hand.
This was way embarrassing.
I dropped my hand. "Um. Sorry."
He checked out my chest again, and then I could see that he recognized my breasts as belonging to the Bitch. He got this wary look on his face and sort of backed up. Great. I was so horrible I could scare off breast-obsessed scumbags. This was probably a sign from above that I should abandon this little venture right now before I got sucked in, but dammit! I didn't want to. So I pulled back my shoulders and gave him what I hoped was a challenging stare. Challenging in a good way, of course.
His eyes widened, then narrowed, then sort of crinkled, and I realized he was smiling. Well, leering. No problem. He was what I wanted, right? Right. So, I'd just open my mouth and ask him to dance.
He waited.
My mouth wouldn't work.
He glanced over my shoulder, and I realized even my breasts were losing their appeal. Time to act. No worries if my mouth had ceased functioning. My hand still worked. Besides, if I was a not-conservative kind of woman, then I would be the type to take charge. So I'd do exactly that.
I reached out and grabbed his wrist. Then I shot him a half-smile that I hoped was mysterious, and I started pulling him toward the dance floor. It occurred to me that if he ripped his arm out of my grasp and ran away screaming, I might not be in the best frame of mind to cope with it, given my bout with invisibility earlier tonight.
But he followed me obediently, right out onto the dance floor. I couldn't see Blaine or Emma out there, but it wasn't as if I cared or anything. Really. I didn't. Or at least, I was working on not caring. Effort matters, right?
As soon as we got out there, he grabbed me around the waist and pulled me up against him.
In retrospect, I guess I should have noticed that it was a slow song. No problem. I flung my arms around his neck and started playing with the hair at the base of his neck. There were actually some curls back there. Interesting. I'd never dated a guy who had hair long enough to curl in the back. My parents would freak. "I'm Shannon."
"Dirk." He slipped his hands lower, so they were resting on the top of my butt.
Interesting. Dirk wasn't wasting any time. Either he was hopelessly smitten, or he was a total letch. I'd prefer to consider him confident and assertive. A real man. And he did smell good. Some sort of aftershave or cologne? I closed my eyes and tried to pretend I was enjoying myself.
Nothing like having a man's hands on your body, right?
Hello. Lips nibbling on my neck. Hands now massaging my butt.
I tipped my head to the side to give him better access. Why not? That's what I was all about right? Plus...I slid my hands over his shoulders. Dirk was seriously cut. Probably lifted for the sole purpose of picking up chicks.
Worked for me.
I opened my eyes and pulled back to look at his face. His eyes were totally black, and suddenly I realized that I found dark eyes a major turn-on. Like major. I was actually getting goosebumps.
Wow. Maybe I really was a sex-starved goddess.
Then his eyes closed, and he was coming at me, lips puckered, tongue ready. Hmm...maybe I wasn't all that into this at all...
Too late. Attack of the monster tongue. For an instant, I considered biting down really hard, but then I figured that this was the entire purpose of choosing him. To show I could be a liberated badass if I wanted to.
Again, something nudged at my brain that maybe there was a serious flaw in my thinking, but I shoved it aside. I was going to enjoy this make-out session if it killed me.
I flung my arms around Dirk and pressed my body up against him, returning the kiss with all I had. His hands started roaming my body, and there was skin to skin contact between his hands and my back. Was he actually going to undress me in public? A glimmer of excitement raced through me that totally startled me. Public sex excited me? Wasn't that an interesting nugget to discover about myself. Huh. Probably not something my parents would approve of. All the more reason, I suppose.
I flattened my hands on Dirk's chest, and I could feel his muscles flexing under my touch. Way cool. Stalker-ex hadn't had muscles he could flex. Speaking of stalker-ex, this was the first guy besides him that I'd kissed in two years.
See what I'd been missing?
Dirk slipped his hands under the waistband of my jeans and over the top of my butt while he chewed on my collarbone, moving progressively lower. Good God! He was practically at my nipple!
Okay, there was a limit. I couldn't go this far in a public bar. I grabbed Dirk's chin and manhandled him out of my chest. "Not here," I said. Wow. I was breathless. How about that, huh? Kissing had made me breathless? Maybe I really did have a hot, sexual nature, and I never knew it.
Dirk kept his hands on my butt. "Where do you want to go?"
"What?"
He started nibbling on my neck again, and I vaguely hoped he wasn't going to give me a hickey. I didn't have any silk blouses that had turtlenecks. "Your place or mine?" he asked.
Your place or mine? The words ground themselves into my brain with impressive force, and I stepped back. "Neither. I'm not going to go anywhere and have sex with you."
Dirk grabbed my hands and pulled me against him. "We don't have to have sex. We'll just have some fun and see what we feel like doing. My apartment is only a couple streets from here. Or yours, if you'd rather. Some women feel more comfortable at home. Whichever you prefer."
"Some women?" I twisted myself free again. "You do this often?"
He hesitated, as if unsure of the answer I wanted. "No? Never? You're my first?"
I actually started laughing. "Nice try, Dirk."
He grinned and went for me again. "So, where to?"
I blocked his hands. "Actually, I really can't. I have to get up early tomorrow, and I'm really not into the one-night stand thing."
"It doesn't have to be one night," he said, trailing his finger down my arm. "We can go as many nights as you want."
Yeah, right. Like a one-night stand with
a stranger would ever turn into anything. "Sorry, Dirk. I just got out of a serious relationship, and I'm not into taking a guy home tonight." I gave him a quick kiss. "It was fun though."
And then I walked away, leaving him on the dance floor. I actually felt kind of bad about it. I hadn't been that pumped up about a kiss in a long time. But it probably wasn't the kiss. Maybe it was his body. Or because I knew my parents would impale themselves on their expensive champagne glasses if they could see me getting down with Dirk, with his black outfit, his gold chains, and his greased back hair.
Either way, I showed Phoebe and Dave I could dump the McCormick vibe any time I wanted to. The victory was mine.
Then I glanced up at the table. My friends and Blaine were all staring at me, varying degrees of shock on all their faces. Except Emma, who gave me a thumbs-up.
Oh, hell. I'd forgotten about Blaine. This was completely embarrassing. I wondered if I could pass Dirk off as my brother. Or not. That might raise even more eyebrows.
Either way, I had about ten more yards to come up with an excuse that would make seeing Blaine in the hallway tomorrow morning bearable. Too bad my brain was mush and I couldn't think of a single thing.
Chapter Ten
So I sat down at the table and ignored the entire fiasco. "So, what's up?"
"That guy, apparently," Dave said. "What the hell was that about?"
I eyed Dave. "What's wrong with you?"
He narrowed his eyes. "As your friend, I have every right to go rip that guy off you and toss him under a cab. I also have the right to throw you over my shoulder and cart you outta here if you ever do something like that again."
I stared at Dave. "Did you get possessed by my father or something? What's your problem?"
"Ignore him." Emma patted my arm. "Dave's just being a typical overprotective male."
"Emma!" Dave looked really annoyed. "How can you defend her? That guy could have been a rapist or something."
"In the middle of the dance floor?" Emma challenged. "We all could see her. She was completely safe."
"Dave has a point," Phoebe said, surprising me. "It was a little much."
I was starting to feel a little embarrassed now. "People make out in bars all the time. It's the first time I've ever done it, so why are you guys on my case?"
"Because it's not you," Dave said. "You're too good for that kind of thing."
I sat up. "No, I'm not. I'm not too good for it, so back off. Didn't I just prove it? I'm not good. I'm bad. I'm evil. I'm..." I stopped at the knowing look on Phoebe's face. "What?"
She looked at Dave. "Our fault."
"Ours?" He looked aghast.
"Yes. We convinced her that she was too much like her parents. So she rebelled."
Yeesh. This was getting way too personal. I looked at Blaine, but unfortunately, he wasn't trying to cop a peek down the front of Emma's shirt. He was listening intently to the conversation. Nothing like having your personal nightmares laid out on the table for Pretentious Bastard.
"Enough." I smacked my hands on the table. "I ditched him, didn't I? So you don't need to worry. It was an experiment, and no harm was done. So back off."
When Dave opened his mouth to continue to harass me, I jerked my head toward Blaine. Dave glanced at Blaine, then shut his mouth, but he shot me a look that said the conversation wasn't over.
"I think it was great." Emma leaned forward. "So, what's his name?"
"Dirk." Blaine still hadn't said anything. What was he thinking?
"Good kisser?"
Yeah, right. This is the exact conversation I want to have with Blaine sitting right there.
Emma tugged on my arm. "Was he a good kisser?"
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah."
"Nice bod, huh?"
"Uh huh." I picked up my beer and wiped some of the frost off the outside.
"Did you get his number?"
"No." I eyed Emma and lowered my voice. "He wanted to take me back to his apartment."
"Well, of course he did. You're totally hot." Emma sighed. "See? You're going to be a hit with the beer girl thing."
"What beer girl thing?" Dave sounded even more aggravated and overprotective. He shot a glance at Phoebe. "You doing it too?"
"Not yet, but it sounds like fun. Law school's sucking my bank account dry, so I'm all about some extra cash." Phoebe leaned forward. "So, what's it all about?"
As Emma launched into a description of her new gig and Dave tried to talk them out of it, I leaned back and closed my eyes. What was wrong with me? Attacking strangers on the dance floor? For God's sake, I let him put his hands down my jeans and grab my butt. In public!
"You okay?"
I opened my eyes to find Blaine watching me. "I forgot you were here."
"No such luck." He was lounging on the end of the bench, looking remarkably comfortable even though he couldn't have had more than six inches to sit on. "How'd your lunch go?"
"My lunch?" He looked so hot, sitting there. So cool. And that suit. What could I say? I was a sucker for guys in suits. Or maybe just for Blaine. "What lunch?"
"The one that you had to round up those attorneys for Otto's speech."
"Oh, right." The one you almost ruined because you wouldn't release Isabel. "Got it covered."
"Great. Glad Isabel was able to help."
"Isabel?"
"Sure. She took off the minute you hung up on me. When she came back, she said she'd gotten ten people and Hildy had rounded up a few too."
"Oh." So he had released her. I felt like I should thank him, but why should I thank him for releasing my secretary to help me? On the other hand, this is what Emma told me to do. Make nice. So I gave him a pained smile. "Thanks."
He nodded. "No problem."
We sat there for a moment while Emma and Phoebe squealed over something. I could rejoin my conversation with them, or I could take advantage of the moment. What was that thing Emma had asked him? Right. Where he was from. So, um, "This your first time living in Boston?"
He lifted a brow. "Yes."
"It's a great place."
"For what?"
"Um...museums. Bars. Theatre. Restaurants. I don't know. Everything." Okay, this was stupid and boring. "I guess I could show you around if you wanted."
He cocked an eyebrow, no doubt bowled over by my apparent enthusiasm. "Maybe I'll take you up on that."
Yes, that was an evasive dismissal if I'd ever heard one. My parents would love him, with his cool manners and expensive suit. Hang on. Brilliant idea alert. "You want to meet lots of influential people in the Boston area? Come to my sister's engagement party on Saturday. Everyone who is anyone will be there. Lots of potential clients." I'd help my reputation by showing up with him on my arm, and make him happy by introducing him to a bunch of business opportunities in the area. He'd owe me, he'd love me, and he'd be my slave after that.
"Saturday?"
"Yes. About six. Suit required."
"I was supposed to go with Emma to do her beer girl thing."
If I wasn't so composed and collected, I would have tumbled off the bench in shock at that remark. First, what was Emma doing working at her stupid thing on the night of my sister's engagement party? Second, why had she invited Blaine? And third, what was up with Blaine actually wanting to do that? He was an uptight lawyer, for heaven's sake. I kept my voice calm. "She invited you to go to her bar girl thing with her? She's supposed to be at the engagement party, too."
He looked surprised. "Really? She didn't mention that."
Wait a sec. Was I bordering on groveling? There would be none of that. So I shrugged. "Whatever." I didn't have the energy to navigate this. If Emma wanted to ditch the party and hang with Blaine, I was done fighting it.
"No, that sounds interesting. Hang on." Blaine touched Emma's arm. "Is it okay if I go with Shannon to her sister's engagement party on Saturday night instead of to that bar? Sounds like there will be some good business opportunities there."
Emma shot me an und
ecipherable look, and suddenly I felt like a jerk. I hadn't intended to hurt her, but that's clearly what I'd done. What the hell? I couldn't get anything correct right now. "Never mind," I quickly said. "You guys go—"
"No, that's fine," she said, still looking at me. "You guys go ahead."
I frowned. "Aren't you coming, too?" My sister's engagement party had been on both our calendars for over six months. "I thought you were going to work out your schedule."
She shook her head. "I couldn't get out of work."
I wondered how hard she'd tried. "Okay, then. Fine."
She lifted her brow, and I scowled at her. "Don't look at me like that. You're the one bailing on me."
"I forgot about the party." Her words were a little tight, and I could feel Blaine watching both of us. For what? A screaming cat fight? Hardly.
"Well, if you change your mind, I'd love to have you there," I said, meaning it.
She said nothing.
What was up with that? Emma never got moody about anything. Hormones, maybe?
Awkwardness settled around us, and I wasn't sure how to fix it. I was trying not to take it personally that Emma had chosen bar-girl temp work over the party, and I was really trying not to care that she'd invited Blaine to go with her. But it wasn't easy. I needed her, and I didn't understand why she was bailing on me.
Emma glanced past me, then nudged Blaine. "Can you let me out? I'm going to the bathroom." She bolted out of the seat as if she'd seen someone she knew.
Blaine slid back into the seat, and I saw him glance at my chest. So I looked down. Holy shit. Was that nipple? I immediately yanked the front of my shirt up. It moved about a quarter of an inch. Apparently, the problem with very low cut, very tight tops was that there weren't a whole lot of options if you decided you didn't like them anymore. This thing was going down the trash chute the minute I got home.
I looked up, to find Blaine watching me, the corner of his mouth curving up.
"What?" I couldn't quite keep the frustration out of my voice.
"That adjustment didn't help much."
One More Kiss (A Too Many Men Romantic Comedy / Chick Lit Novel) Page 7