Intoxicated

by Jeana E. Mann

  “I thought I told you to leave me alone. What part of that did you not understand?” He slammed the drawer shut with a bang, narrowly missing her fingers. Nothing ever changed with her. She was as irritating as that damned back door buzzer. With a heavy sigh, he removed her forcibly from his chair and took a seat there himself.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think that you weren’t glad to see me.” Her lower lip jutted out in an insincere pout. There had been a time when that expression might have tugged at his heart, but those days were long past.

  “What do you want? More money?” He sat back in his chair, assessing her. “Well, tough shit. I’m broke. You won’t get another cent out of me. You’ll have to find some other sucker to bleed dry.”

  “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Jack. What makes you think I want something? Maybe I’m just here to see you.” As she smiled, the slanted blue eyes crinkled at the corners in amusement.

  “You never do anything without an ulterior motive.”

  “I could say the same about you.” She parked her butt on the edge of his desk and swung a long leg back and forth. “Why are you always so pissed at me? You’re not still upset about that little thing that happened, are you?”

  He sighed and scrubbed his face with his hands before he spoke. “It wasn’t a little thing. You slept with my brother.”

  “I don’t know why you keep bringing that up. It was years ago. You know, it’s not healthy to harbor so much negativity inside. Maybe you should take some anger management classes…”

  “Look, Chels, I’m busy. Say what you need to say and get out.” She cocked her head to one side like a bird. Not wanting to encourage her with conversation, he waited while she formulated her next move. An all too familiar expression of contemplation hovered on the heart-shaped face; he could see the wheels turning behind those exotic eyes and knew that danger lurked just around the corner.

  “I don’t want anything from you, Jack. I’m in town on business and wanted to say hello.” She hopped onto the corner of his desk, crossing her long shapely legs at the knee, baring a good deal of thigh in the process.

  “You don’t know anyone here. You’re unemployed. What business could you possibly have here?”

  “Oh, this and that.” She attempted to pick up a stack of invoices from the desk, but he slammed a hand down on the papers. She jumped to her feet. “Geesh! What is your problem?”

  “You are my problem,” he said, as the pounding between his temples started up once more. He needed aspirin and a beer, maybe several beers, if he ever wanted to feel normal again. “Whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying. Now take your scrawny ass out of here before I throw you out.”

  His frustration hit new heights when she made no attempt to move. He abhorred violence against women but his fingers curled at the intoxicating idea of wrapping around her slender neck and choking the life out of her.

  “I thought maybe we could grab some dinner or go see a movie or something.” One long fingernail like a talon traced the outline of the desk calendar as she peered up at him through thick black lashes. “You know… maybe catch up on things.” The subtle change in intonation over the words catch up let him know exactly what was on her mind and it wasn’t conversation.

  Their last little reunion had resulted in one of the biggest mistakes he’d ever made and damned if he was eager to repeat that disaster any time soon. With uncanny perception, she’d caught him in a weak moment, and they’d tumbled into bed like two horny teenagers. Their little interlude had meant nothing to him — hell, he’d been so drunk that he hardly remembered it — but she clung to it with a desperation that made his gut wrench. He’d already wasted too many years of his life on her. Damn if he would squander even another second on her deceitful, traitorous ass.

  He said nothing but stood up, took her by the elbow, and propelled her toward the door. She huffed but let him escort her out of the office, brushing her shiny black hair out of her eyes with a free hand. When they reached the back door, she jerked her arm away and straightened her top with an indignant scowl.

  “You don’t have to be so mean about it.” A scowl creased her pale forehead as she dug through her purse for the car keys. “I thought maybe we could hang out like we used to. I miss you, Jack. We used to be best friends.”

  She was wrong; they had never been friends. Their relationship had been fueled by cocaine and sex, nothing more. He had to be mean, had to harden his heart against her. Otherwise, she would prey on his sympathies and worm her way back into his life quicker than a flash of lightning. Her presence was the last thing he needed when he had finally begun to pull his life together. Just because her life was in the toilet didn’t mean she had to drag him in there with her. The girl must have some kind of radar that honed in on his impending happiness, allowing her to swoop in like a vulture and tear it all apart.

  “Chelsea, for the last time, I’m not being mean. I’m being honest. You should try it sometime. You and I have nothing to say to each other anymore.” He nudged her toward the door.

  The harsh tone of his voice gave her pause. The blue eyes widened and for an instant, he imagined the glimmer of tears. That misguided notion made him laugh out loud. It must have been the reflection from the bare light bulb overhead. She wasn’t capable of any sincere emotion. She raised a hand to caress his cheek. His skin twitched under the touch of her cool fingers.

  “When did you stop loving me, Jack?”

  “I never loved you. Remember? We’ve been over this a million times.” He swatted her hand away and gave her another small push toward the door, herding her over the threshold, using his size against her.

  “We’ll always be tied to each other.”

  “The only tie we ever had was our lifestyle. And if you haven’t noticed, I’ve been away from that stuff for years. If you had any brains, you’d get away from it too.”

  She snorted at that, tossed her hair, and straightened. The girl had tenacity, or maybe it was just the inability to realize when she was defeated.

  “Who is she? Anyone I know?” She smiled at him in a patronizing way that raised the hairs on the back of his neck. That knowing smirk pissed him off, as if she knew him better than himself. He groaned in exasperation and scrubbed his face with both hands.

  “None of your business.”

  “That’s not a denial.” She studied his face with shrewd blue eyes. “Whoever she is, I hope she’s prepared for a lifetime of heartbreak and disappointment. You kinda suck at relationships.”

  He forced his face to go blank. Chelsea had honed in on the very thing that he himself hadn’t been able to admit. For the first time in years, he dared to hope that there was someone, or the possibility of someone, in his future. That tiny glimmer of hope, no matter how miniscule, was the only thing holding him together lately.

  With Chelsea finally gone, Jack sat down behind his desk. From force of habit, he grabbed his cell phone and scrolled through the contact list in search of female companionship, someone to take away the dull ache of emptiness that he always felt after an encounter with her. He started to hit redial on his cell then stopped himself midway. Did he really want to open up that Pandora’s Box? The best he could possibly hope for was another one night stand with a girl he didn’t really like. He was getting so tired of waking up in someone else’s bed. The pounding behind his eyes increased. He scrubbed his face with his hands to ease the tension. After a few more minutes of contemplation, he opened the top desk drawer to search for some aspirin among the cluster of ink pens and paper clips that rested there. There was no aspirin, but he did find a lone cigarette, trapped behind a roll of tape, a stapler, and Ally’s panties.

  The satin slipped through his fingers like a whisper, evocative of their owner and the kiss in the hallway. Without a doubt, he’d sacrifice a dozen meaningless encounters for one chance at a significant relationship with Ally. She was so different from what he was used to…so together. Most of the girls he knew had the dep
th of a mud puddle, but Ally’s green eyes seemed fathomless. The need to learn the secrets held within those emerald depths had him craving her like a drug. The memory of her confrontation with Brian, her calm and cool reception despite what had to be a torrent of emotions raging behind her composure, brought a smile to his lips. Controlled…that was the word. Lacking that quality himself, her self-control fascinated him. He’d like to break that control. When he’d kissed her, he felt that control slip to reveal just a taste of the passion that lurked inside her, and man, it had tasted good.

  Who was he kidding? Ally would never get involved with him. She had more class in her little finger than he could ever hope to possess. Chelsea’s words of warning echoed in his head. You kind of suck at relationships. Of course Chelsea would say that. Her only ambition in life was to make him miserable, a skill which she had perfected over the years. Any trouble he had maintaining a relationship stemmed directly from the mental torture he’d suffered at her hands. The crazy bitch would be a challenge to any relationship he might hope to have. With a sigh, he shoved the panties back into the drawer. He’d have to cross that bridge when he came to it.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  On the other side of town, Ally heaved a sigh at the mountain of paperwork on her desk. The muscles in her neck and shoulders contracted, sending a spike of pain straight into the center of her brain. The frequency and intensity of those headaches were directly proportional to the ever growing stress in her life. With a groan, she yanked open her bottom desk drawer and rummaged for the bottle of aspirin she kept there. Something had to change or her head would explode. As she washed down two caplets with a drink of bottled water, her cell phone vibrated. She didn’t have to look at the caller ID to know who it was on the other end of the line. Brian had left numerous voicemails since their encounter at Felony, most of which Ally had deleted unheard. They ranged from angry to indifferent, with requests to collect his belongings from her house, meet for lunch, or concern for her general welfare. In fact, he’d called her more in the last few days than he had in the past three months of their relationship.

  Seeking more pleasant thoughts, she chewed on the end of her pencil and stared out the window of her office with visions of Jack in her mind. The weekend was only a few days away and she was tempted to make a return appearance at Felony but feared she’d lose another pair of panties and maybe her self-respect in the process. There was something about that guy that she couldn’t resist. The memory of his embrace sent her pulse into overdrive. Heat rushed from her chest up to her neck then into her face. She fanned her cheeks with the weekly financial statement.

  With her eyes closed, she could remember his scent, a mixture of soap and leather combined with a whiff of tobacco. She felt the touch of his calloused palms as they slid up her thighs and the tickle of his bearded stubble on her chin as he nipped at her neck. Her breath came short at the memory.

  The phone rang and she jumped.

  “Your lunch is here.” Penny, the crabby middle-aged receptionist buzzed in on the intercom, raspy voice tinged with irritation. She made no attempt to hide her dislike of Ally.

  “Huh? What lunch? I didn’t order lunch.” Ally disconnected the intercom, but Penny rang back immediately.

  “He said he’s not leaving until you see him.” Penny’s voice lowered to a confidential whisper. “I really think you’re going to want to talk to this guy.”

  “Fine. Send him in.” Annoyed, Ally spun around in her chair and made a move to stand. “I have got to get a better receptionist.”

  The door swung open. Jack strode into the office, looking cool and casual in a black cotton t-shirt with the word Anarchy splashed across the chest and black jeans faded to a soft gray at the knees. Under each arm, he carried a large brown paper bag. The scent of garlic and spices wafted in with him underscored by the clean scent of soap and aftershave. He flashed a blinding smile at her, all full lips and white teeth, punctuated by dimples. She’d never seen him in the daylight except in her daydreams. To see him standing live and in the flesh in the middle of her office rendered her speechless. A vague sense of anticipation pitted deep in her belly. It was a little like finding a panther in your parlor; beautiful and dangerous with the knowledge that something might get broken.

  Too shocked to speak, she could only gape at him. Her office was large by most standards, but he filled the room with his presence. Even five paces away, she could feel the heat from his body and the pull of attraction. And he’d brought food. Her stomach growled, stirred to life by the delicious aroma of spices.

  “Well, hello to you, too,” he said. Without waiting for a reply, he took a quick look around and set the bags down on the coffee table next to the windows. “Jesus, Ally. This view is fan-fucking-tastic!”

  He stood in front of the windows with his back to her, showing the broad line of his shoulders and back, narrow hips, and the snug curve of denim over a perfect ass. The stark black lines of tattoos snaked out beneath the short sleeves of his t-shirt, at odds with the vintage chic of her office. Oblivious to her surprise, he turned and walked the perimeter of the room, trailing a hand over the furniture as he walked. He paused in front of the framed diplomas hanging on the wall and turned to cock an eyebrow at her.

  “Double major and a masters? I knew you were beautiful, but smart too?”

  Whispers and giggles from the hallway drew her attention back to the door of her office where two female marketing assistants lingered, eyes wide with admiration for Jack. With a stormy glare, she walked over to the door and closed it on their noses then swallowed hard to regain her composure by the time she turned to face him.

  “Are you crazy? What are you doing here?” He was smiling at her, dimples ablaze. She tried not to smile back, but it was impossible. He’d been thinking about her, too. The idea warmed her insides like full blown sunshine after a thunderstorm.

  “I brought lunch,” he said, striding back to the coffee table. “I wasn’t sure what you liked so I took a chance on Italian. I hope that’s okay.” As he spoke, he delved into the bags and placed containers of food on the table. It was more than okay; the only thing she liked better than pasta was Jack’s dimples.

  “Do you do this often? Surprise random women with lunch?” She peeked into one of the bags, intrigued.

  “Never. And you are definitely not random.” The dimples flashed. “Look, I’ve got a tight schedule today, so we’ve got to make this quick. Gotta be out of here in thirty minutes. I’ve got two interviews for a new waitress. And God knows I need them bad.”

  As he spoke, he placed two cloth placemats with matching napkins, plates, and silverware on the table then proceeded to pour sparkling Pellegrino into two plastic champagne flutes, garnished them with lemon wedges. The attention to detail surprised her. Just exactly what was he up to? This wasn’t some sleazy takeout; he had put thought into this meal. She tried and failed to think of any time that Brian had done something like this for her. Her traitorous stomach growled again.

  “I don’t usually eat lunch,” she said weakly as another wave of delightful scents hit her nose. As a former fat girl, she gained weight just from looking at anything that smelled so wonderful.

  “Bullshit.” He stopped long enough to give her an appraising look and shake his head. “I like a girl with a little meat on her bones, and believe me. Ally, you’ve got it all in the right places. Besides, I can help you work that off later.” One of his graceful eyebrows shot up in mischief.

  The feast presented too much temptation to be ignored, no matter what the motives behind it. A colorful salad tossed with red wine and vinegar dressing. Tender chicken medallions nestled in a bed of angel hair pasta tossed with olive oil, sundried tomatoes, and artichokes to which he applied a dusting of freshly grated parmesan cheese. Garlic bread still steaming from the oven brought a fresh flood of saliva to her mouth. Another container held classic spaghetti with tomato sauce and meatballs the size of her fist. As if that weren’t enough, he opened a fina
l container filled with two slices of cheesecake.

  “I suppose I can take a few minutes.” Hunger pangs and physical attraction to him weakened her resolve. How often did a gorgeous guy bring lunch to her office? Never. She sat down in the blue leather wingback chair across from him, determined to enjoy the rare treat. “Where did you get this?”

  “There’s a great bistro down the street. Remind me to take you there sometime. Giovanni, the owner, is a friend of mine. Which do you want? The chicken or the meatballs?”

  “Can I have a little of both?”

  He raised an eyebrow in surprise but smiled. “You can have anything you want, sweetheart.” He dished out a generous portion of each onto her plate. “Now –– you eat and I’ll talk.”

  Her fork, laden with a hefty bite of angel hair, froze in midair. She had a thing about eating in front of men, the remnants of a chubby childhood. “No way. I’m not eating unless you do.”

  “Fine.” He twirled a generous amount of spaghetti onto his fork and shoved it into his mouth. Satisfied, she took a bite off her own plate and moaned in pure ecstasy. It was delicious. He smiled. “Wait until you try the cheesecake.”

  “I don’t eat dessert.” As soon as she spoke, she regretted the words. One look at the creamy wedges drizzled with black cherries and a dollop of fresh whipped cream brought a fresh flood of saliva to her palate. She had to watch every calorie that went into her mouth; she could gain weight just from looking at cheesecake. It was as if he knew all of her weaknesses and preyed upon them. “Tell me the truth. You’re the devil, aren’t you?”

  He chuckled in genuine amusement. “I love cheesecake,” he replied, eyes glued to her lips. “But when I eat it, it usually involves nudity and a necktie.”

  The image caused her to choke on a bite of chicken. He thumped her on the back but didn’t laugh for which she was thankful. A necktie? Holy crap! Her insides quivered with all the possibilities that involved.