One More Kiss (A Too Many Men Romantic Comedy / Chick Lit Novel)

by Stephanie Rowe

  Seriously? "Thanks for noticing."

  He didn't look remotely embarrassed that I'd just called him on inspecting my breasts. "I was wondering if this is your usual weekend attire." He sounded far from impressed. Not quite judgmental, but close.

  Or maybe I was feeling horribly embarrassed about my shirt on my own and was projecting onto him. That was entirely possible as well. "It was an experiment." I tugged at it again. It didn't magically morph into a turtleneck, but at least my nipples were hidden. The small victories in life, right?

  "Was that guy on the dance floor an experiment, too?"

  Dirk. I'd forgotten about him already. It was so lovely of Blaine to remind me. "I'm on the rebound. Leave me alone."

  "Self-destruction isn't admirable."

  I scowled at him. "I've had enough of smug attorneys. I'm not being self-destructive. I'm fine, so back off." But even as I said it, doubt flickered through me. I wasn't fine, and I knew it. I was falling apart, and turning into a person I didn't like much at all.

  He shrugged. "Okay."

  "Fine."

  He managed to stay quiet for less than a minute before speaking up again. "Just one more question."

  I sighed in aggravation. "What?"

  "How you dress is your business, but I need to know if you're planning to dress like that on Saturday. I don't mean any offense, but that's not the kind of image I need to project if I'm there on business, which is what it will be for me."

  I stared at him in shock. Had he really just said that?

  He had.

  Sudden tears burned in my eyes, and I blinked them back as much as I could. "I need to go. Have a nice evening." I stood up and tapped Phoebe on the shoulder to get her attention away from Dave. When she looked up at me, I managed a tight smile. "Tell Emma I wasn't feeling well and went home."

  Emma was welcome to Blaine. This night was officially over before it could get any worse.

  Like there was anything left to salvage.

  Phoebe frowned. "Are you all right?"

  "Perfect." The tears threatened even more, so I turned away. "See you later." I shoved my way across the crowded bar, giving a wide detour around Dirk, who was chatting up some curvy blond. This was all Emma's fault. If she hadn't invited Blaine along on my personal night out, then at least my total humiliation would have been kept within friends. Now it would be all around work by the time I got there tomorrow.

  Fabulous.

  Unless someone mugged Blaine on his way out of the bar. It wasn't beyond possibility. He exuded a positive cash flow and looked like he'd never gotten dirty in his life. An easy target, don't you think? I stepped outside the bar and looked around for some deviants to alert as to Blaine's presence, but all I saw were ordinary bar-goers. No one who looked ready to risk jail just to please me.

  Which meant I'd have to face him tomorrow.

  Damn.

  Chapter Eleven

  Casino morning dawned rainy and gray. Unfortunately, lightning hadn't struck my building during the night, turning me into burnt toast. Nope, I was alive and well, and had no choice but to go to work today and face my life.

  I rolled out of bed and the infamous tank top was still on the floor. First things first. Deal with that.

  I picked it up, walked into the kitchen, put it in the sink, lit a match and set it on fire.

  Stupid match went out.

  So I tried again.

  Same result.

  I hoped the person who invented flame retardant fabrics had been sent to Siberia for eternity with nothing but a box of matches and non-burnable tank tops. Hah. A little cold, are you? Serves you right.

  "What are you doing?" Emma wandered into the kitchen, rubbing sleep out of her eyes.

  "Trying to burn this thing."

  "Why? It looks great on you." She fished it out of the sink. "What's wrong with you?"

  "What's wrong?" I grabbed it out of her hand and shoved it down the garbage disposal. "Oh, maybe the fact that Blaine actually saw my nipple last night because this thing was so low, and now I have to face him at work today. Oh, and perhaps the little incident on the dance floor with me nearly having sex in a public place?" I turned on the faucet, and then flicked the garbage disposal switch.

  Interesting noise. Not sure the tank top in the garbage disposal concept was working all that well.

  "Shannon!" Emma turned off the garbage disposal and glared at me. "If you break the disposal, we're going to be charged for it."

  "It'll be worth it. Turn it back on." Wouldn't it be fun if it was Blaine's head in there too?

  "No." Emma folded her arms across her chest and blocked the sink. "Why'd you take off last night?"

  Last night. I forgot we were mad at each other. "Because I was tired of humiliating myself. Blaine made one too many derogatory comments, and I couldn't take anymore. So I bailed. I told them to tell you I was leaving. Didn't they?"

  "Blaine's not such a bad guy."

  "I noticed you were snuggling up to him." Oops. I hadn't quite managed to keep my tone even on that one. Maybe I should take some acting classes. That might help me maintain my composure.

  She studied me. "Does that bug you?"

  "So you admit the snuggling?" Ow. Chest pain.

  "He's nice."

  "Not."

  Emma sighed. "Shannon, why don't you give him a break?"

  "I did. I invited him to the party Saturday. You got pissed, and he made a snide remark about my attire. It wasn't a raging success as invitations go."

  Her cheeks colored ever so slightly. "I wasn't pissed."

  "No?"

  "Surprised."

  "Why?"

  Emma took a moment to fish the remains of my shirt out of the sink.

  I waited.

  She finally turned around. "I felt like you invited him to get back at me for the fact I couldn't come. To punish me."

  I blinked. "I hadn't thought of that, but now that you mention it, would it have worked?"

  A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "I was a little annoyed," she admitted. "I felt like you invited him just because I had invited him to my thing."

  "I didn't know you'd invited him until after I asked him. It certainly wasn't my first guess that you would have asked him to go hang out at a bar and watch you flirt with other guys. It sounds like a rather strange way to spend the evening, if you want my opinion." Or even if she didn't want my opinion. She was getting it anyway.

  "I was being nice. He doesn't have friends."

  Somehow, I couldn't see a guy like Blaine desperate for something to do. Things probably just fell into his lap.

  Emma cocked her head. "So, then, why'd you invite him to Lindsay's party?"

  "To get my parents off my back. I figure if I show up with Blaine, then my parents can brag, and I'll be acceptable. It'll at least make the evening tolerable. Plus, it'll be good for business for Blaine. If I can get him indebted to me, then I can leverage it to get him to back off Isabel's time. Unlike you, I'm being entirely selfish in the invitation." And I didn't feel one bit bad about it either. So there.

  "You're right."

  "About what?"

  "That party is going to suck for you. You need all the help you can get. Take Blaine." She held up the shredded tank top. "I think you should wear this. With all the holes, it'll really show some skin."

  "Oh, shut up." I grabbed it out of her hand and laughed.

  We were good again.

  One crisis down.

  Now, all I had to do was get the casino outing to fly, face Blaine, and hope Jessamee's move to the office next to Otto was torturous and horrible. Ah, the small pleasures of life.

  Chapter Twelve

  So, which was worse?

  * * *

  Public humiliation on the dance floor of a bar. Such humiliation involving nudity, sluttiness, nipples, and generally behaving in a totally embarrassing manner.

  Getting back together with ex-boyfriend and having to deal with the knowledge that I was
never going to meet my soulmate as long as I was with him. But he did know me better than anyone else and he did love me. And my parents loved him.

  * * *

  The advantage of (b) was that I wouldn't be tempted to be a slut again, I would be back in my parents' favor, and everyone at the firm would respect me again. The advantage of (a) was discovering I was a hotbed of raging desire with no morals whatsoever.

  Short term, option (a) was not a bad thing.

  Long term, (b) probably had the better advantages.

  I stared down at the paper I'd scrawled on. Had I lost my mind? Was I actually considering getting back together with Max?

  Obviously, someone slipped a hallucinogenic in my beer last night. There was no other possible explanation for momentarily doubting my decision to dump Max.

  I crumpled it up and threw it in my trashcan.

  It was all Blaine's fault. The way he looked at me with those disdaining eyes, as if he knew for a fact that I was a loser, whereas other people were just conjecturing.

  That comment about my attire still pissed me off.

  And unfortunately, there was nothing I could do about it.

  He was a partner.

  I was the social director.

  I needed my job.

  Marching next door and screaming at a partner for noticing my nipples just didn't seem to be the correct response, not if I wanted to keep my job.

  And I was going to keep my job, dammit, if for no other reason than to spite my parents. And I liked it. Usually. Sometimes. Parts of it, at least.

  My phone rang and I snatched it off the hook "Shannon McCormick." Anything was better than thinking about Blaine and my nipples.

  "Shannon. It's April."

  My brother's girlfriend. Another overachiever, plus she was gorgeous and made big bucks as a vice president of a bank. I loved her and didn't feel at all insecure around her. Really. I didn't. "Hi April. It's so nice to hear from you."

  "Hi, Shannon. Listen, your brother and I were wondering if you wanted to go in on an engagement gift for your sister and Geoff."

  "Sure. I'd love to." Maybe April would have some ideas about what to buy a couple who could buy out the entire contents of a major department store with cash if they wanted to.

  "Great. We were thinking maybe a five-hundred-dollar limit per person."

  I almost choked. "Five hundred dollars?" There went my rent for the month. Maybe I should start being a prostitute at night and make some extra bucks. Oh, forgot. I have social director duties in the evening. Figured. Now that Dirk had shown me my dark side, I couldn’t even make a profit off it. Not that I could admit to my family that I didn't have the money, because that would be yet another sign of how I'd failed. "Count me in." This probably meant a shopping outing with April. I couldn't wait for that. With her perfect little figure and her great clothes, she always made me feel like a dirty laundry hamper. "So, you want to get it before the party?"

  "I already picked out a nice crystal bowl. It'll be great for the dining room."

  Yeah, it better be nice. At five hundred bucks each, that was a thousand bucks for a bowl. Unless April and my brother were each throwing in five hundred, in which case we were talking a fifteen-hundred-dollar bowl.

  I could upgrade my car if I had fifteen hundred dollars.

  "So, I'll just write your name on the card so the store can go ahead and wrap it up."

  "Um, okay." So much for the excitement of shopping for my sister's engagement present. I'd been fantasizing about buying her some wonderful gift that showed our bond as sisters, but instead, my only contribution would be my name on a card and a check for five hundred dollars.

  Great.

  "So, see you tomorrow." April hung up, but not before I heard her ordering the salesperson to use different wrapping paper.

  Had I mentioned how really excited I was for this party? Only about thirty-two hours away. How could I stand the anticipation? I wondered if my mom had told April to call me about the present. A preemptive strike to keep me from showing up with an inappropriate gift that would embarrass the family.

  A knock sounded at my door, and I nearly fell off my chair.

  It had to be Blaine. He'd ignored my subliminal signals to stay away (namely, the fact that my office door had been firmly closed since I'd arrived this morning, and I'd asked Isabel not to let him anywhere near it). I needed some time to figure out how to deal with last night. I wasn't answering the door. "Come in." Why did my mouth insist on behaving in a socially appropriate manner when it would be so much more satisfying to just say what I meant? Like "get the hell away from my door and leave me alone, you miserable son-of-a—

  Jessamee Bouchillion pushed open the door and walked into the office. "Good morning, Shannon."

  Oh, well. Jessamee. That was different. I didn't want to scream at her to get away. No, more likely, it would be fun to make her lie down on my floor and then jump up and down on her for several hours, asking her what it felt like. Wouldn't that be fun?

  She crossed her arms and gave me an evil look that made my toes curl. "What did you do to me, Shannon?"

  What now? Besides kowtow to your every demand? Not much else. "What's the problem, Jessamee?"

  "Everyone's been giving me funny looks when I tell them I'm in the office next to the managing partner. What did you do? If you're trying to get back at me for threatening to get you fired, I'll report you. I know my rights. Retaliation is illegal."

  Great. So nice of the world to expose me. Stifling the urge to tell Jessamee to stuff it, I gave her a demure smile. "You asked for an office next to a corporate partner. I gave it to you. He's the most influential person in the whole firm."

  Jessamee narrowed her eyes and stared at me. Could there be more distrust oozing from her pores? The girl needed to lighten up. It wasn't as if the entire world was out to destroy her. Though she was entering the legal profession. Perhaps she was right on track. "Then why is everyone giving me those looks?"

  Other than the fact that Otto is a psychopath and might very well come after you with a butcher knife if you fail to genuflect in his presence? "Because they're jealous."

  "Oh." Jessamee considered that. "Well, that makes sense then."

  I nodded. Why didn't it surprise me that Jessamee would have no problem believing people were jealous of her? I wondered what it would feel like to be so certain that other people envied me. It must be a treat to have that experience, eh? I sure hadn't been racking up too many of those moments in my life. April would probably know what it was like, though.

  "Okay, see you later then." Jessamee flounced out, leaving the door open.

  I supposed I might as well get up and walk out of my office. It was past ten o'clock already and I did need to get some work done that involved conversations with other people. If Blaine came by, well, I'd just deal with it because I was cool and sophisticated.

  I walked to my door, then leaned slowly out. Checked down the hall toward Blaine's office. Excellent. His door was shut. Wait a sec. What was he doing with the door shut? Was he avoiding me? Afraid I'd corner him and insist he come to the party?

  Nope. I wasn't going to become paranoid about this. Not at all.

  I walked over to Isabel, still eyeing the door. "So, is Blaine here today?"

  "Yes." Isabel held up her finger and picked up my line, which was ringing. "Shannon McCormick's office, can I help you?" She waited a sec, then handed the phone to me. "It's for you."

  I grabbed it. "Hello?"

  "This is Dirk from last night."

  Dirk? Dirk? How in the hell had he found me? "Dirk? You mean, you're the guy from the bar?"

  "Yep. How are you?"

  How am I? Shocked, horrified, terrified. "How did you get my number?"

  "Your friend gave it to me. Emma, I think her name was."

  Emma. I recalled with sudden clarity how she'd bolted from the table. Bitch. "Listen, now isn't a good time for me, Dirk. I have a meeting."

  Isabel raised
an eyebrow at me, and I grinned and rolled my eyes. Yes, I was lying. But when men were involved, normal standards of honesty didn't apply.

  "Want to go out tonight?"

  Um, the short answer would be "No." The long answer, "No." "Sorry. I have plans. Bye."

  I hung up. "Isabel, you won't believe what happened to me last night. I was at this bar and..."

  Isabel's eyes flicked over my shoulder, and I turned around. There stood Blaine, with a stack of files in his arms.

  And all I could think about was the fact he'd seen my nipple.

  "The guy from last night was on the phone?" he asked.

  "Um..."

  He handed the files to Isabel, shot me a look, then walked back into his office and shut the door.

  Crap.

  Encounter over. I hadn't come up with anything brilliant to explain last night, and I hadn't managed to turn the phone call from Dirk into anything extraordinarily wonderful. Nope. Just stood there like a dope.

  On the plus side, at least I'd faced him down, and he hadn't brought up the nipple sighting. I hadn't even caught him glancing at my chest. So that was it? He was Mr. Reserved again? A dignified attorney with no sense of humanity? Where was the passion in this place? Why weren't there people who actually said what was on their mind, who actually had some emotion? Come on, people! Let it all hang out! Or at least let something hang out! I felt like running down the hall, kicking open every door and screaming at everyone to react, cry, laugh, do something!

  "Shannon?"

  I sighed and turned to Isabel. "Yes?"

  She slipped a fax across her desk. "Confirmation for tonight. You're all good."

  Tonight. Casino night. I hadn't told anyone about the change in plans. The buses would arrive at five thirty to pick everyone up. That was all they needed to know. That way, no one could judge me or the event before they got there and saw how great it was.

  Assuming, of course, that it was great.

  Heaven help me if it wasn't.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I was a genius. No other conclusion was possible, not since I'd accepted at least a gazillion compliments on the casino evening, and it was only eight o'clock.