by Melissa Blue
Abigail wavered, because his eyes had filled with something so deep and warm the expression made her mouth go dry. A sip of her bourbon burned down her throat and she welcomed the sting. “I don’t believe it.”
“Did he ever read another poetry book? Did he even read from the one he bought that day?”
She scowled at him now, because he had a point. Hell must have been cold. “Why are you telling me this? Would your cousin like that you’re maligning his character?”
Drew shrugged. “A two-dollar word for what most men do.”
“And what is it most men do?”
Again, she’d leaned toward him. Drew had an undeniable magnetism. It coaxed women like lambs to a slaughter. She didn’t know if it was better or worse that he never lied about looking for a good time and only a good time. Through no fault of his own, women kept trying to drape wedding bells around his neck.
She stopped herself. Embittered thinking would bring her no closer to getting rid of him. Neither would it staunch the sideways thoughts of him looking downright yummy. His pose relaxed and not forced. The laughter in his brown eyes. Delish. He’d always been this way around her, as though he simply liked her company. And that, if nothing else, was sexy and had to be why she kept gravitating into his space.
“The secret to men is they’re always trying to impress a woman,” Drew said. “Or man, if that’s who he is. It’s in our very being. If it means making a woman believe we’re into poetry, so be it.”
“And the top search on the Internet is love,” Abigail scoffed.
“Actually it is. Just ask Oprah.”
Abigail finished her drink instead. What comeback did she have to a man who had supposedly watched Oprah? When she glanced at her friends, for some kind of confirmation she was right, both them looked enraptured by the exchange.
Dammit. “You can—”
“So,” Sasha said with a smile. “Tell us more.”
“Do,” Emma encouraged.
Her friends grilled him, in a very subtle way, extending his stay at their table. Ten minutes in, both of them were charmed. She couldn’t blame them, not really. He flirted easily and with a sincerity founded in loving women. Plain and simple. Therein lie the problem. If he could, Drew would love all women at the same time. He might even create a schedule and would be professional enough not to hand out name tags.
The last thought made her chuckle. He turned to the soft noise. His leg brushed hers, sending a tingle up the limb. “So, you’ve decided to join in the conversation, Grumpy Face?”
She shot a quick glance toward Sasha. Pouty lips. Check. The unmistakable lean forward to show the right amount of cleavage. Check. Dammit. “Let’s dance.”
Not an ounce of surprise crossed his face, only smugness. Had this been his plan all along? No, because that didn’t make any sense. Drew didn’t find her attractive. He was more like an annoying brother, if one put aside the illegal-in-fifty-states thoughts she had about him.
“My pleasure.” He nodded both to Emma and Sasha and took her onto the dance floor.
Drew wasted no time, now with an excuse, to plaster himself against her. His fingertips brushed along the crook of her arm, making Abigail uber-aware of every inch of him. At some point, he’d rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. The warmth of his arm encircled her waist, low enough to brush her tailbone when they swayed. Like a wallflower who had been asked by the cutest guy in the room to dance, her stomach filled with nerves.
Being so close, she felt a physical pull to him. An actual ache to have him closer so their bodies aligned just right. It wasn’t that long ago that she had a steady live-in boyfriend. She hadn’t reached the point where she felt like a cat in heat. There had been other men who caught her eye, but none of them created this ball of tension filled with want and need.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Drew said.
He’d pay a million dollars for the one crossing her mind. “I’m imagining all the ways I’m going to torture you.”
Drew tied up…the image gave her a thrill that had everything to do with—Abigail shook her head. This line of thinking had to be the aftermath of seeing Greg get married. Hollywood had based an entire movie genre on the single woman phenomenon with, of course, a junior high school humor. She was feeling a little raw and was a tad too vulnerable. Wanting to snuggle closer to the man in front of her was proof enough.
Abigail ignored how right it felt to have the heat of him at her front. A little breathless, she said, “So, what’s your end game? You have one.”
“I do.” He did a quick shuffle between dancers, and she followed his lead with ease.
She mentally added breaking his legs to the list of torture. “Oh, my.” She infused a heavier breathless tone. “You’re a fine dancer. I’m all atwitter.”
His eyes alighted with humor. “Will you give me your handkerchief as a token of your affection?” She narrowed her gaze and he laughed. “Now, now. Ladies don’t swear.”
“I’m not a lady.”
“Beg to differ,” he said.
“Your end game?”
The arm alongside her waist slid up and then down her back, but it was his gaze that dragged her into the trap. There was no artifice in his eyes. There was simply want so deep and wide she lost herself in the emotion. The gaze held no charm, but it froze her in place. Abigail wondered what would happen if she lifted her chin and parted her lips. He’d kiss her, and, in that moment, it would feel right.
“I simply wanted to touch you,” Drew spoke softly.
The words almost did her in. She felt a subtle give in her frame. Her nipples puckered, and she tilted her head up without meaning to. This close, she felt the same pulsating need coursing through him too. If this were a game, he was playing for keeps. Fear lanced through her gut.
“You want me to believe you’re not all smiles and charm, Drew.” Huskiness threaded through her voice.
Irritation flashed in his gaze. She held on to his reaction for dear life. “These women you string along wouldn’t salivate over you the way they do without the façade, but then you show them something more. May not be on purpose. Just glimpses every now and then, but you do. It’s all a ploy.” Though she said it to him, the words were for herself. “So why should I believe this is real? It’s the timing and place. It’s you trying to seduce me like you do with every woman with a pulse.”
The weight of his forearm grew heavier on her back. “I’m not like that.” He slid his other hand up her arm to her chin.
“And I don’t string women along,” he said. “I don’t even go out with a woman who will get tripped up in loving me.” He ran his thumb along her jaw. “Some women see what they want to see in a man, be damned what’s really standing right in front of her.”
The touch was too intimate. The gaze too searching. The touch, the stare, made her ache for him in a way she never had before. Made her ache for him in a way Abigail knew she should never feel for him. Her heart thudded as he ran his thumb along the curve of her neck.
“We did this dance before, don’t you remember? And I chose Greg over you.” She forced her mouth into a smirk. The words rang with untruth, but it still drew blood.
His gaze darkened and a new line of tension stiffened his body. They had long since stopped swaying to the music, but he held her to him, and she hadn’t stepped back. The truth of the action settled between them.
“See, that’s the thing, Ms. Johnson.” He splayed his hand on her collarbone. “You could always see beneath the charm and smiles because we’re alike. There’s one important difference between us: I don’t lie to myself.”
The double-edged sword of truth she so proudly yielded cut both ways. She shifted, breaking the gaze. “It’s not a lie.”
Drew lifted his hand, it hovered over her cheek. Without thought she shifted again to get closer to the heat. He placed his hand down at his side and began to dance with her, moving them around the room.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” she demanded.
“It’s what you love to do.”
His head flicked to the side as though to say no. “That’s the mistake you keep making, Abby. You don’t want to know the real me.”
It wasn’t the words that made her blood pump but the unyielding rightness in his tone. When he smiled, no light filled his eyes. “You never gave us—me a try.” He stopped again, bending his head down to hers.
She trembled for longer than a heartbeat and secretly reveled in the uncertainty of what would happen next. Like a pig in the muck, she rolled around in the feel of him against her, the way her skin flushed at them touching and then she buried the unspoken wish. “And I never will.”
“If you believed that you wouldn’t still be dancing with me.”
“It’s been your usual M.O. so far. Won’t be expecting anything different.”
She pushed him back and walked away leaving his testicles intact and without a threat. And that action would weigh between them, too.
Back at the table, she sat down and didn’t encourage any conversation. If that wasn’t enough, the expression she probably wore on her face nixed any chatter not discouraged by her seething silence. The glass she’d left trembled in her unsteady hand, but it was too easy to finish off the liquor inside it. She needed another drink.
Never deterred, Sasha spoke first, “Ok. That’s it. I love him. Do you think he would—”
Abigail finished for her friend, “He would pose nude for you. Most definitely. Excuse me.” She left the table and had luck getting to the front of the wet bar without any snags until Drew sidled up beside her. The vulnerability crept up again, and it made her bitchy. “You again?”
Drew sighed, shaking his head. “My cousin’s just got married. I have to make a speech in three minutes. I need a drink.” He turned away from her to the server behind the makeshift bar.
The rigidness in his shoulders made her feel an inch tall. What was it about Drew that she needed to demolish any and all humanity about him? What was in it for her to keep him in the nice square peg of ladies’ man and lush? There was no answer, so with reluctance she placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked at it before meeting her gaze.
“I’m sorry,” Abigail said.
His brows rose. “Snowflakes must be raining down in hell.”
She rolled her eyes, because they did have one thing in common. “Never mind. Forget I said anything nice to you.”
He’d moved into her space, and for the first time she noticed he hadn’t wore cologne. He smelled of laundry soap. A light, frothy scent that belied the seriousness in his eyes. “I’ll leave you alone. Hope you got whatever it was you were looking for today.” Suddenly he smiled with all teeth and no mirth. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again. Soon.”
The server placed both of their drinks on the countertop, and it stopped her from asking what he meant. Drew lifted his glass in a toast and walked away without a backward glance. The brush off left a sour taste in Abigail’s mouth booze couldn’t drown out.
“It was a bad idea anyway,” she muttered.
“Did you say something?” the server asked.
“Nothing.”
Relief flooded her brain. No matter what Drew said, they’d never have to see each other again. She’d never question or be tempted by the tug she felt when with him. With that thought, Abigail ordered another bourbon just in case.
Chapter Four
The moment Kristin came into the office with the Expression, Abigail knew she should have locked the door and hid under the desk. The rumors of possible layoffs had the inner office buzzing. As rumor had it, Jim, the head cheese, had hired out to examine which ad account team would get the boot.
Using the pen, Abigail mimed stabbing her eye. The hard sales data from one of her biggest clients covered the large wooden desk. The sales were up three percent, which didn’t make the client happy, because most, if not all, would be handed over to her company as continued payment for services.
The client wanted something bigger and splashier. They wanted Abigail to create a miracle. Normally a challenge she’d jump on. But today, the warmth of the late September sun beamed at her back and begged her to play in it. Her stomach keened in a low whine from hunger. She’d forgone a short stop at Sweet Tooth. There was only so much “I love you more” she could take in the morning. Emma and her fiancé, Tobias, had been on a roll all week. And…ever since the wedding she’d had a tough time settling back into life. It didn’t feel like she had closure.
And now Kristin stood at the door with the oh-my-God-this-is-so-going-to-suck expression. Really? Really? The week refused to end.
“What is it this time?” Abigail said with all the enthusiasm she felt—none.
“Betty’s here somewhere, but Jim wants you in the conference room.”
Abigail’s stomach clenched. “Then the rumors are true?”
“Yeah, I know. If she’s here, the outside help was probably her idea. They only want you.” Kristin winced. “They’ve been talking to all the account execs. Do you want me to set up a meeting in an hour with Janice, George, and Mike? Maybe even Promotions?”
They were the core members of her team. Whenever doing heavy duty work she used three other team members on loan from a colleague. She thought about it for a second. “Not yet.”
“So what do you think they’ll torture us with this time?”
“No idea, but let me tell you something.” Abigail pointed her pen at Kristin. “You know what I wish for right now?”
Kristin’s lithe figure tightened with tension, and she worried the ruffles on her gray shirt. “What?”
“That I was two-years old right this moment so I could throw myself on the floor to kick and scream. But, I’m not.”
Kristin’s frame relaxed, and she nodded, knowing the drill. “No, you’re not. You’re a strong, confident woman.”
“I am.” Abigail threw down the pen in frustration. “So, what I’m going to do is not whine. I’m going to see what Jim has in store for us.”
Kristin’s head bobbed. “You’ve got five minutes to bitch to yourself.”
“Thank God for small favors.” Abigail waved a hand at her assistant. “Get a snack tray ready.”
“Already on it.”
Once Kristin cleared the room, Abigail turned to face the large window. After graduating from college she imagined what the view from her office would be like. There was never a question she would have the corner office. She always had ambition and didn’t mind doing grunt work. The view she’d imagined had Time’s Square in the backdrop. Or, at the very least, a skyscraper to look down and see people scurrying to and fro like ants.
Instead she ended up with the college’s cathedral-like clock tower. It did not scrape the sky. From four stories up she could still make out all the people who came and went from other buildings. Still, the company had staked out the best spot within the commercial district. There was no big city bustle but the town was large enough to not be quaint and cheery.
The girl who graduated from college would have been bored to tears. Abigail, grown now, loved it, but what she would give for…something. The X factor of life. Hell, just something unexpected. Betty showed up from corporate every three months with an idea to shake up the competition and put Adtivity on the map. This time was different. This time Jim might decide the view belonged to someone else. Glad she hadn’t eaten, Abigail rubbed a hand over her stomach to push down the nausea.
The intercom next to the laptop buzzed. Kristin’s voice filled the office. “Four minutes. Jim’s already asking about you. Apparently, I’m not needed for this meeting. Do you still want me to take in the snacks?”
“No. Sounds like I’ll be eating it all when I get back.” She frowned, turning away from the window. “Let him know I’ll be there in thirty seconds.”
Abigail stood and jumped up and down on the balls of her feel like a boxer getting ready to go a few rounds. “You can do this. You can smile and look open to any suggestions, comments or crit
icisms.”
She shook the nerves out of her arms and wrenched the small mirror from the top drawer. Her ebony strands fell past her shoulders. The liner shaping her slanted eyes hadn’t run in the corners. She had yet to worry the lipstick from her heavy bottom lip.
“Go get ’em tiger,” she said to the reflection and left her office.
The long hallway held nothing but doors to other offices, except at the end where the large conference sat. That door stood open and she couldn’t see anyone, yet.
A few more feet and her steps slowed at the sight of Jim, the head cheese, standing in the back corner, arms folded and gaze on the front of the room. If he initiated a meeting, he liked to stand in the front. Jim wasn’t exactly a take-charge type of man, but he liked being viewed as an authority figure. Sure as hell helped he was sharp when it came to the business, but for him to stand in the back…this didn’t bode well.
The feeling of dread grew in the pit of her stomach. Betty had taken a seat near the front. Abigail entered the room and followed Jim’s gaze. Her breath caught in her throat. The last person she’d expected to see ever, ever again stood in front of the Smart Board.
Drew looked as clean cut as he had on Saturday, except he didn’t have a laid back quality. He stood with his hands in his pockets, striking a GQ pose. No whiskers graced his face and it made him look way too pretty boy for a man his age. His hair was clipped so short it was barely there. The style was the only thing to enhance the rare rugged features. He looked downright at home and ready to command the room.
“’Bout time.” Jim straightened from the corner. He put out his hand to her. “Abigail, I want you to meet Drew Carter. He’s an advertising management consultant.”
Drew lifted his chin higher in a regal gesture, but she could see the laugh in his brown eyes. “What a pleasure to finally meet you, Ms. Johnson. Jim here has had nothing but high praise for you.” He paused for dramatic effect, and words still failed Abigail. “May I be the one to tell her?”