by C. L. Stone
“I’m not sure I believe you, and further investigation may be required.” His rich voice turned husky toward the end. Sign me up for that.
Shane gave me a knowing look. “You never did tell me more about yourself, evasive Emma.”
I sighed. “Okay, I’m going to be the bigger person here and let the nickname game go, for now. What do you want to know?”
He leaned over the table and crooked a finger, silently asking me to move closer. “What’s your favorite color?”
Laughing, I rested my chin on my fist. “Wow, you dug deep with that one. Red.”
“I approve. You look amazing in red. Biggest pet peeve?”
“Clocks that tick.”
“Really? That’s weird.”
“Have you ever sat in a quiet room and listened to one?” I repeatedly pressed my tongue against the roof of my mouth, imitating the sound. “It’s obnoxious. I used to stop the clock in our dining room all the time. It drove my mother crazy.”
“Okay, I guess I can see that. Books or movies?”
“Books, but I love movies as well.”
“Coffee or tea?”
“Coffee.”
“Morning or night person?”
“Night, when I have a choice.”
“On top or under me?”
My breath caught, and I wavered between smacking him and kissing him. I had to give the man points, though—he’d managed to completely catch me off guard. Could I do the same to him? “Why not both?”
A low groan vibrated from the back of his throat. “I don’t suppose if I asked for the check now, you would agree to get out of here?”
“I wouldn’t count on it.” Hoping to direct the conversation back to less dangerous ground, I said, “My turn. Favorite color?”
“The exact shade of your blue eyes,” he replied, not missing a beat.
I laughed. “Sure it is, smooth Shane. Sweet or sour?”
“Sour.”
“Baseball or football?”
“Soccer.”
“Oh, so you’re rebel,” I teased.
“You know it.”
“Pet peeve?”
Shane paused for so long, I thought he wasn’t going to respond. Finally, he spoke, his tone sober. “People who disappoint me.”
He changed the subject then, and I tucked his answer away for another day. Clearly, there was a story there, and I wondered if it had something to do with his mother, considering he’d said that his father raised him.
The rest of dinner passed in a blur, and I didn’t realize how late it had gotten until I noticed that most of the restaurant was empty. Shane paid the check, and we were in the lobby when his phone rang again.
He huffed, clearly exasperated by yet another interruption. “I apologize. I need to take this call.”
Shane distanced himself, leaving me a few feet away. He sounded pissed off, but with his back turned to me and the noisy lobby, it was difficult to eavesdrop. After a brief conversation, he returned, a tight smile in place.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“Unfortunately, I’m going to have to cut our date short. This was not what I had planned for our evening together.”
“Not a problem. I really enjoyed dinner.”
He quickly retrieved his car from the valet and then drove to my apartment. Even though we both knew he was in a hurry, Shane insisted on escorting me to the door. Leaning one arm on the door frame, he caged me in, then grazed the side of my face with his hand. Light as it was, I still shivered from the contact.
“I’m dying to kiss you, but I think we’ll both enjoy it more if I wait.”
“Are you sure about that?” I whispered.
“No,” he grumbled. “But I want it to be memorable and not rushed.” He pressed his forehead to mine. “When can I see you again?”
“Soon, I hope.”
Shane left, and I slumped against the back of my door. What am I doing? Even though I knew it was the last thing I should do, I could feel myself getting invested. It was too hard to keep my feelings out of it when they were all so fantastic, or at least seemed so fantastic. The one good thing about knowing it would all come to an end sooner or later was the fact that I wouldn’t have to choose between the three of them. I wasn’t sure that I could even if it was an option.
6
Nicholas was rather mysterious about our date, telling me only to meet him at “our coffee shop” and to dress for the outdoors. Since it was my third date this week, I was glad he chose something casual, whatever it was.
When I rounded the corner, he was waiting outside the shop looking scrumptious in faded jeans and a fitted charcoal sweater that showed off his sculpted shoulders and biceps. In dark sunglasses, he looked every bit a movie star and then some. No wonder girls were crowding the sidewalk for no apparent reason. Ogling him was reason enough.
He approached and handed me a to-go cup. “I got you a peppermint mocha; hopefully, that’s okay.”
“That’s perfect. We’re not staying?”
“Nope. This stop was just to feed your coffee addiction.”
I laughed. “Smart man.”
He led me to a black Range Rover parked on the street and opened the passenger door. “Thanks, trust fund,” I said glibly.
“Hey, at least it’s not a Ferrari.”
“Are you saying you could afford one?”
“Maybe, maybe not,” he countered with a smirk before closing the door.
We drove past the airport, heading to a more suburban area of town. After about fifteen minutes, Nicholas parked in front of Ethel M’s Chocolates. Cacti and succulents lined the path to the entrance.
“Peppermint mocha and chocolates, you know how to treat a girl.”
Nicholas merely smiled, as if pleased by my answer.
After a few purchases from the store, we returned outside to explore. I nearly gasped at the transformation; since the sun had set, the immense cactus garden twinkled with holiday lights. We meandered down the path, admiring the plants and holiday decorations.
“Why aren’t you already back in Indiana for the holidays? Didn’t the semester end a week ago?”
“Now that’s a loaded question.”
“If you don’t want to talk about it—”
“No, it’s fine.” I took deep breath, trying to decide how to explain. “It’s not that I don’t love my family . . . more that I just don’t have a burning desire to spend a lot of time with them.” I covered my face and then peeked at him through my fingers. “That makes me sound really awful, doesn’t it?”
Nicholas snickered and removed my hands from my face but didn’t let go. “Not even a little bit. I completely understand where you’re coming from.”
“Oh, so you have a difficult family, too?” I asked, my voice more delighted than was appropriate for the topic of conversation.
Nicholas dropped one hand but held onto the other, intertwining our fingers. “We were talking about you.” He started walking again and tugged me along. “I’m not letting you change the subject now.”
“Okay, fine,” I said, enjoying the feel of his warm hand in mine more than I wanted to. “But only if you promise to reciprocate.”
“Deal.”
Where do I start? “I guess it comes down to a difference in plans for my future. My parents wanted me to stay in Indiana and go to college with my ‘perfect’ boyfriend, then move back to town and get married and live happily ever after.”
“Wait,” he interrupted, then paused somewhat dramatically. “Boyfriend?”
“Well, ex-boyfriend now. Anyway, that’s not how I envisioned my life. Even if Matt and I had stayed together, I never wanted to move back to my hometown. I want to travel and start my career, and then maybe someday get married. But, my parents refuse to listen, and I’m tired of arguing.”
“I get it. You want something different than what your parents always hoped for, and they’re having trouble adjusting.”
“It sounds like you r
eally do get it.”
“Sadly, yes.”
“But, aren’t you working for your family’s foundation?” I knew that was only part of it, so I was—once again—giving him a chance to come clean about Loft25. Not that I thought he would.
“Yes, but I’m also expected to obtain a position in a high-profile corporation and work my way up the ranks. That’s what my father did, and I’m the only son, so . . .”
“. . . You have to follow in his footsteps.”
“Precisely.”
“Well, if you don’t want to go the corporate route, what do you want?”
For the first time since I’d met Nicholas, he appeared hesitant, nervous even. “Nothing in particular. I’m sure I’ll join the business world one of these days.”
“Nope.” I yanked on his hand and held tight until we were both seated on a relatively private bench. “I know there’s something you’re not telling me, so spill.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “What are you, psychic?”
I laughed. “No, and I don’t read tarot cards, but I did read your expression, and there’s definitely more to the story.”
“You’re persistent, you know that?”
“Yes.”
“It would be annoying if you weren’t so cute.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“Fine. I don’t talk about this much, but my dream is to renovate old buildings. Either restore the building to its original glory or completely redesign the space until it’s new and fresh. There’s this . . . magic to taking something old and making it new again that has always captured my interest.”
I wasn’t sure if my jaw actually dropped or if it was just in my mind, but either way, I was confounded. He could have started quoting Shakespeare and I would have been less surprised. Wait, take something old and make it new? The Loft25 warehouse? Ohmigod, did he design it? I wanted to ask him so badly but stopped myself, still unwilling to be the first to break in whatever stupid game we were playing.
Realizing that I was gaping at him, I replied, “That sounds amazing. How could your parents object to that?”
“How could yours object to you finding your own happiness away from Indiana?”
“Touché. So, why don’t you ignore your parents and do it anyway? If it’s your dream?”
“I’m trying, but it’s harder than I anticipated. My father flipped out when I told him that I was double majoring in business and architecture. And, when I didn’t immediately get a corporate job after college, I thought he might have a coronary then and there. But, my trust fund is secure, so he doesn’t get to call the shots like he wants.”
“Must be nice,” I grumbled. “I need my parents to at least keep paying my rent. And, even then, I don’t have a safety net. It’s kind of scary.”
“Hey.” He plucked at a lock of my hair until I tipped my head back to stare into his oh-so-green eyes. “Don’t worry, Cinderella. You’re destined to do great things.”
“Like meet my Prince Charming?” I joked.
“Maybe you already have.” Nicholas spoke the words so quietly that I wondered if I imagined them, but I stopped thinking altogether when his gaze dropped to my mouth.
The kiss was slow in the most delicious way, his full, soft lips caressing and teasing with every brush against mine. My pulse skyrocketed and I forgot to breathe as he grasped the back of my neck and pulled me against him. Needing to touch his skin, I reached up and stroked the stubble along the hard lines of his jaw like I’d longed to do since the moment we met.
When I opened my mouth and his tongue slipped inside, I had to hold back a moan. As much as I wanted to ravage him, Nicholas somehow kept the pace leisurely, making me want him even more. We might have kept going like that forever if a group of teenagers hadn’t started catcalling, snapping me back to reality. Crap, we’re in public, I thought, too shaken to be embarrassed.
Pulling away, I attempted to control my breathing while assessing what the hell just happened. His kiss was probably the hottest thing I’d ever experienced, and clichéd descriptions started hitting me like raindrops. Toe-curling, panty-melting, foot-popping, sparks-flying . . . yeah, that type of kiss.
“So . . .” I said nervously.
Nicholas chuckled and reached for my hand again, leading me back to the main path. “We better keep going or we won’t get to see all the cactuses. Or is it cacti?”
Grateful that he’d lightened the mood, I replied, “Technically, I think either is correct.”
“Good to know.”
We wandered through the garden, discussing random topics, and I marveled at how easy he was to talk to. As intimidated as I’d been by his unbelievable good looks when I met him, I could almost ignore them when we were together now.
Back in Nicholas’s car, heading to the coffee shop, he returned the conversation to our earlier discussion. “You never said whether you’re going home for Christmas.”
“I am, but only the twenty-third through the twenty-sixth. Hopefully not long enough to go completely insane. How about you?”
“The twenty-second through the twenty-sixth. Are you working the next few days?”
“Other than Monday, yes.”
“Hmm . . . I may not get a chance to see you before I leave. Will you go out with me again when we’re both back in Vegas?”
Excellent question. As ready as I was for this ruse—whatever it was—to end, I wasn’t ready for my time with Nicholas . . . or Shane or Cole to end. And, after today’s picture perfect date, I wanted to believe the ruse was all in my mind. That by some miracle I just happened to meet three amazing guys on the same night who coincidentally co-owned the same club and all randomly decided to pursue me. Too bad I don’t have the ability to live in denial.
“Why don’t you call me?” I said noncommittally.
“You can bet on it.”
7
When my shift ended, I was determined to find a gift for the one person left on my list—my mother. According to the tracking info, my dad’s and brother’s gifts arrived at my parents’ house yesterday. Simone and I traded presents before she went home, and Matt wouldn’t be receiving a gift this year for obvious reasons.
I had long given up on the idea of finding my mother the perfect gift, but I needed to give her something more personal than a gift card, as tempting as the idea was. I would’ve loved to find something at Williams-Sonoma, but nothing ever seemed quite right. And having spent all morning in the cramped gift-wrapping space, I was eager to escape.
I strolled through the outdoor shopping area, relishing the feel of the crisp air and sunshine. One of the boutiques looked promising, but I knew better than to buy clothes for my mother and beelined for the jewelry and stationery. Fingering the delicate strands of a gold chain on a table that sparkled with treasures, a glittery drop necklace caught my eye. While it looked ridiculous with my heavy sweater, I knew it would be perfect with a plunging neckline. I picked up a simple and elegant stationery box set for my mother and made my purchases.
Unfortunately, I still needed something more substantial for her gift. Remembering a home store on the other side of the shopping center, I crossed my fingers and headed that direction. Walking past a shoe store, my mind immediately jumped to Cole, which naturally led to thoughts of Shane and Nicolas.
I still questioned their motives, but I was beginning to question my own as well. What started as curiosity was quickly transforming into a game of risk with my heart on the line. And, even if their feelings were genuine, how would I possibly choose between them? I was definitely playing with fire, and I wondered when, not if, I would get burned.
The home store was relatively small but well curated. Furniture, rugs, and specialty bedding were displayed to maximum impact, inviting customers to sit, touch, purchase. Sadly, most of the items far exceeded my budget.
As the salesperson approached, I cocked my head, trying to place him. Tall, lanky build with dark-rimmed tortoise glasses . . . Xavier from Loft25?
“Yes.” In more ways than one, I hope. “I’m looking for a gift for my mother.”
“Would she like a cashmere pashmina? Or perhaps some of our exclusive skin care products?”
I glanced at a few price tags for Xavier’s rather decadent gift ideas. “Cashmere is probably out of my price range, and I’m hesitant to give her skin care products. Since I waited until the last minute, whatever I purchase will have to fly home in my suitcase.”
“What about a silver picture frame?” he suggested, leading me to a table topped with a variety of picture frames in different sizes and materials. “Classic, timeless, portable.”
“That could work.”
I chose a frame, then followed him to the cash register, relieved I finally found a suitable gift. Since the store was currently empty, I took a chance that Xavier would be willing to talk. I just needed to be subtle about my interrogation.
“You seem really familiar,” I said casually as he rang up my purchase. “Do you go to UNLV?”
He smiled. “Nope.”
“Wait, do you work at Loft25?”
“Yeah, in the VIP section. Wow, I’m impressed. Most people are too drunk or too snobby to acknowledge my presence, let alone remember me.” He handed me a receipt to sign. “What did you think of the club?”
“It’s beautiful, and it’s got a great vibe.”
“I know. The pay is great, especially some of the tips, but it’s only open Wednesday through Sunday, and interior design is my passion.”
“Then, I’m guessing you love what the Loft25 designer did with the warehouse?”
“Absolutely! Nic did a phenomenal job.” I knew it.
“Nic?” I asked innocently.
“Yeah, Nicholas Hayes, one of the owners. Brilliant and gorgeous. I swear he should be a model, preferably of underwear.” Mmm, that provided quite the stimulating mental image.
“Is he good to work for or a total jerk?”
“One of the best,” he said enthusiastically. “Shane and Cole are awesome, too—the other two owners. I met Cole soon after moving to Vegas, and we’ve been friends ever since. Cole is the life of the party, but you throw the three of them together and things can get pretty crazy.”