by Girard, Dara
"Take some deep breaths," Eric suggested.
Bruce couldn't reply, pain making speech impossible. Neither woman stared at the fallen giant. Their eyes were fixated on Eric in amazement.
"Eric—" Lynda began, her voice full of awe.
"Good-bye." His voice was polite but final.
She seized his arm. "You have to let me explain."
"I've already listened to your explanation."
"I just wanted to have a little fun. You're always so controlled and serious. If I'd known you had this side to you I—"
"You'd what? Decide to be faithful? You were right the first time. I'm serious and controlled. No fun at all. Goodbye."
He turned and halted when he saw Adriana standing there. His expression didn't change. His eyes were like ice though his voice was cordial. "Came to my rescue, huh? You don't care very much about a man's ego, do you?" He took her arm. "Come on." He stopped and stared at her. "Why are you shaking like that?"
"I–"
Lynda pushed Adriana aside. "So who's she?" she demanded, jerking her head in Adriana's direction.
"Adriana Travers, a client," he said.
Adriana studied Lynda and immediately knew Eric had been saved from a terrible mistake. Though her small stature made her look petite and helpless, there was a selfish sense of entitlement that hadn't shown in her picture. She was privileged, knew it, and expected to be treated accordingly. No doubt she would have used Eric's lower background as a weapon throughout their marriage.
Lynda rested her hands on her hips. "If she's a client, what are you two doing here?"
Eric looked bored. "Celebrating my birthday."
"Am I supposed to believe that?"
"No, I suppose not." He began to walk away with Adriana in tow.
Lynda followed. "I think you came here to have a little fun of your own. Eric, you and I could have fun together and you wouldn't even have to pay me for it."
He spun around so fast, Lynda let out a little cry of alarm. She withered under his biting glare. "Pay you for what?"
She swallowed.
"I am a man with integrity and expect the same from my wife. You've displayed not only that you're deceitful, but that your loyalty is as stable as the stock market. If I had been wounded fighting for your honor, would you have left me as you have him?" He nodded toward Bruce, who continued to cradle his hand. His voice lowered. "And for your information I've spent a lot less on Adriana's company than yours. Class is priceless."
His words brought fire to her eyes. "So you're trying to marry yourself out of the gutter?"
Adriana took a step forward. "What did you say?"
"You heard me."
Eric yanked her in the other direction. "Come on."
She resisted, her eyes on Lynda. "You're going to regret tonight for a long time. And I'm here to make sure you regret what you just said."
Eric grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back. "Bye, Lynda."
Lynda pointed a finger at him. "Nobody insults me, then dumps me, Eric. You'll regret it."
He turned and began to walk away.
Bruce stumbled up to them. "You're going to pay for this." His threat fell flat against Eric's hard glare. He let Adriana go, his eyes welcomed action.
Lynda took Bruce's arm and led him away; Adriana took Eric's arm and did the same.
"I can't believe you let her say that about your background," she said.
"I don't believe in hitting women."
She glanced over her shoulder. "Nanj will hit her for you."
"Why are you still shaking?" he asked.
"It's nothing," she said quickly. It was a mixture of rage and fear, but she couldn't tell him that in case she annoyed him by doubting his skills. Men had such gentle egos.
"Nothing, huh?" He held her hand, feeling the trembling she tried to control. He said nothing. He found a vacant table littered with an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts, numerous glasses, and crumpled napkins. They sat.
"I'm not angry," he said. "Don't look surprised, your eyes are as clear as crystal." He looked at the dance floor. "No, I'm not angry, few people can make me." He turned to her. "So tell me why you're shaking." He still held her hand, but it was his eyes that kept her still.
"I think the thought of fighting is fine, but I hate actually seeing it," she admitted in a shameful rush. "I know it's silly. Growing up with two older brothers, I saw them fight all the time. They felt they had to be my protectors. Even some of the guys I dated got into fights, but I would be affected for days seeing blood spout from someone's nose or hear breaking bones." A shiver raced up her back as the sound of Bruce's hand breaking echoed in her ears.
Eric gently rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, which soon calmed her. "I didn't mean for that to happen, but better his hand than my face." He tapped his glasses. "Do you know how much these cost?"
She smiled. Only he would mention something like that. She didn't know whether it was his dry humor or caressing hand, but her tremors immediately stopped. She felt her body relax. She rested her arms on the table and leaned forward.
"So what did you say that made that guy so angry?"
Eric let her hand go and fell back in his chair, his voice marked with regret. "I'm afraid I let my temper get the best of me." He paused. "If you don't like fighting, why were you going to hit Lynda?"
"I wasn't going to hit her."
"You looked ready to do something."
"Character assassination. I'm not proud of it, but I'm pretty good. I wanted to strip her bare till she was raw and vulnerable, and then I would go in for the kill."
He shivered in mock fear. "You're scaring me."
"I'm sorry."
"No, I like it. It's nice to know women can be as vicious as men."
"Why did you show Lynda the ring?"
"I asked her to marry me."
She straightened. "What?"
"I said I'd do it and I did."
"What did she say?"
He let his shoulders rise and fall. "She didn't say anything, she just burst into tears."
"I don't understand you." She shook her head. "Why would you still ask her to marry you?"
"Pride. Let her know what she lost."
"I think you just sealed your fate. She was impressed by your display."
He frowned, pushing the assortment of glasses to the middle of the table.
"Your macho routine," she explained. "It gives most women a thrill to be fought over."
"I didn't fight over her."
"It's the general principle of being wanted by two men."
He rested his arms on the table. "I made it clear I no longer wanted her."
"She wants you back."
"Me and my gutter self?" He stood. "It's merely a pride issue. She'll get over it."
She stood as well. "Where are you going?"
"I'm leaving."
"The exit is in the other direction."
"I want to say good-bye to your friends first."
"You don't have to..."
He was already heading toward them.
She overheard the group convincing him to stay longer, but he declined. "Thank you for an enjoyable evening. If you have any questions about what we discussed, feel free to call me. Adriana has my number."
"Hey, good luck on your proposal tonight," Emily said.
Adriana inwardly winced, but his expression didn't give anything away. "Thank you," he said with sincerity. He waved, then disappeared into the crowd.
* * *
It took her ten minutes to find him. He was three blocks away from the club, blending easily with the night stream of people bundled in coats as they rushed past. Lights from restaurant windows spilled out onto the sidewalk.
"Are you following me?" he asked as she came up behind him.
"Yes, I'm your ride, remember?" she said, a little breathless. The man could move fast.
"I can take the metro."
"I'll save you money."
&nbs
p; He stopped. "It's dangerous for a woman to know a man's weakness. Where's the car?"
* * *
They were silent as she merged her blue Acura into traffic. Eric was a companionable passenger. Unlike most men, he didn't criticize her driving or silently hold on to the door handle like a martyr. He just stared out at the city lost in thought—it made her crazy.
She gripped the steering wheel. "Will you please tell me how you do it?"
"Do what?"
"How you can be so calm. I ruined your birthday, in case you've forgotten. If you had gone home or stayed at work as you had planned, you wouldn't have lost your tie, had beer thrown in your face, seen your girlfriend with another man, or nearly got your teeth knocked in."
He moved the heat vent. "You forgot the play."
"What?"
"You forgot that if I hadn't come with you, I wouldn't have had to suffer through the play."
"It wasn't that bad."
He slanted her a glance, doubtful.
She waved her hand, searching for words. "It was on a different level."
"Between infantile and psychotic." He moved another vent. "What are you trying to do, cook us?"
"It's cold outside. I like heat."
"It's not that cold. You act as if this were the Arctic."
She reached for the knob. "Fine. I'll turn it down. I forgot ice melts."
He ignored the barb.
"You didn't understand the play," she said.
"Don't get on that artistic pedestal with me, I had to nudge you awake twice."
"I wasn't falling asleep, I was being quiet."
"That's what you call snoring?"
"I didn't snore."
He thought for a moment. "No, you didn't. That was the guy next to me. If he had leaned any further I would have had to introduce myself."
Adriana grimaced, remembering what had started the argument—his ruined birthday. "I'm sorry." He didn't seem to hear her, his eyes fixated on the lights of the city. She suddenly felt a cold rush of air ambush the car.
"Why is your window down?" she demanded, raising it.
"It's still hot."
"Then take off your jacket."
"I'll have to take off a lot more than that to get cool in here," he mumbled, slipping out of his black blazer.
"Suit yourself." She turned up the heat.
"All right then." He began to unbutton his shirt. "But be warned, many a female has fainted at the sight of my chest."
She laughed.
He sent her a mocking look. "I'm not sure I appreciate your laughter."
"A man's ego is always a source of entertainment." She glanced at his unbuttoned shirt and saw a flash of bare brown skin that wasn't supposed to be there. "Where's your undershirt?"
"I don't wear one."
In one moment he would be sitting half naked in her car with his bare chest exposed for review. She turned down the heat. It was definitely hot in here.
"Ahh, much better." He rested his head back and gazed out the window. His shirt was still unbuttoned, but she didn't feel like mentioning it.
"You worry me," she said.
He turned to her, amused. "Afraid I might be suicidal?"
"You never know. The quiet ones are tricky to figure out."
"Don't worry. Suicide is a bit too dramatic for me. I'd rather die of old age."
"You don't have to pretend it doesn't hurt."
"I've made mistakes before," he admitted easily. "She's not the first."
"You asked another woman to marry you?"
He lifted his head and began buttoning his shirt.
"How many?"
He ran a hand down his shirt, straightening his buttons. "Two."
She looked at him, surprised. "Lynda was the third woman you've asked to marry you?"
"Yes. Rochelle originally said yes, but returned the ring after a week."
"Why?"
"Said that I scared her because I had no warmth." He straightened his collar. "No typical human emotions." He shrugged. "Whatever that means."
"Oh." She could understand how Rochelle came to that conclusion. Being his wife would seem a lonely place. Yet there was something below the surface that urged her to dig deeper.
"Why are you stopping?" he asked as she parked the car.
"I want to pick something up. I've ruined your birthday and want to make it up to you."
"You're getting me a cake."
She unlatched her seat belt. "Do you like chocolate or vanilla?"
"Surprise me."
She grinned. "Okay, but before I do, tell me about the first one."
He rested his arm on the windowsill. "The first one what?"
"The first woman you asked to marry you." She knew she was being bold, asking him about his past, but she was curious.
Eric reached for his tie, then remembered he didn't have it. He sighed. The first time he had proposed seemed eons ago. A time when he'd been young and reckless, slowly making his place in the world and leaving his background in the dust. He'd become overconfident when Catherine came into his life. She was smart, attractive, came from a good home and family, and was everything he wasn't.
"I met her at one of the young black entrepreneur meetings Drake liked to drag me to. I was sort of floundering career wise." He looked at her. "You like to be bored to death, don't you?"
"Just finish the story. So you were floundering. I would never have imagined that. You seem the type to always have known what you wanted."
There was a brief flicker of his wicked grin. "I knew what I wanted. I was just having a hard time getting there." He unlatched his seat belt and shifted in the seat, resting his back on the door. "Catherine was doing a presentation on investment. I'd never seen a young woman with such poise and elegance. I... I was impressed, I was in awe. I wanted her and sought out to get her. She said yes the first time I asked her out. I was almost grateful. I wasn't used to... We dated for a few months and then at midnight on my twenty-second birthday I asked her to marry me."
"And?" Adriana demanded when he fell silent.
Eric glanced down, pulling off invisible lint from his trousers. "And she raised her lovely eyes and said in a voice filled with pity: 'If you were Drake, I would say yes.'" He shook his head to mask the pain that still lingered. "It was only then that I realized she'd been dating me so that Drake would notice her. I had been so blind. I hadn't even seen the signs. It wouldn't have been the first time." He glanced up. Adriana's eyes swam with tears.
"Hey, hey, don't do that," he pleaded, opening her glove compartment to find tissues.
Her voice was a whisper. "That is a horrible story." She stared at the tissues Eric shoved in her hands. He could be nonchalant about it, but she felt for the young man who had proposed a lifetime of loyalty to a woman who had used him to get his brother. She knew it hurt because she had seen it happen before.
She crumbled the tissues in her hand. "I hate people like that," she said, anger overcoming tears. "Users. They did the same thing to Cassie, you know. Guys would go out with her just so that they could flirt with me." She could still remember her friend's face—the hurt when she found out and the shame that followed. Cassie never believed her, but Adriana knew her pain intimately. Knew what rejection felt like. How it felt to be judged and discarded. Hearing Eric's story had reminded her of that.
Adriana had been thrilled when Drake met Cassie. He took no notice of Adriana—his eyes and heart meant only for Cassie. Of course convincing Cassie of that had been hard at first. Her full-figured friend couldn't believe an attractive man like Drake would truly like her. Fortunately, Drake proved very persuasive.
"It's the past," Eric said.
"But aren't you angry? You and I have nothing in common, but I'd never say I wished you were Drake."
He raised a brow. "Even if you thought it? Come clean, Adriana. Haven't there been times when you wondered how Drake and I could be related?"
That was true. They didn't even look like brothers. D
rake was darker, broader, with an all-consuming quality that attracted most women. He had the masculine virility of a superhero. Eric didn't even look like a sidekick; he was the sidekick's accountant. She watched a knowing smile appear on his face as if he'd read her thoughts. She quickly pushed away the comparison.
"Okay, so most people are impressed by Drake," she conceded. "But perhaps you think about the differences just as much as they do." His arrogant smile fell. "Perhaps sometimes you even accentuate it. Perhaps you didn't think you could compete so you completely dropped out of the game, becoming everything Drake wasn't."
Eric shifted in his seat again, staring out the windshield. "No." His voice was cool.
Adriana could feel him pulling inside himself, creating a distance between them. She wouldn't allow that. She had seen a part of Eric tonight that she knew could be just as tempting and dangerous as any man. She refused to let him isolate himself in his iron wall of control.
"I admit that you're here with me because I couldn't imagine you celebrating your birthday alone. I usually spend my time with guys who think inflation has something to do with balloons and could crack nuts with their toes, but I learned a few things about you that I can't figure out. I don't know where you learned it, but you're like a con artist." She warmed to her subject as the overhead lamplight reflected on his glasses, shielding his eyes. "You're not what you seem. You show the world that you're serious and dull, but the truth is, if you wanted to, you could be as sexy as Drake and as dangerous as a viper. And that is definitely irresistible."
He turned to her, his eyes remote. She stared back, her heart pounding so hard she feared it was audible.
Where the hell had that come from? Definitely irresistible? She felt like crawling out the door. What had possessed her to say such things? Okay, his two ruined birthdays and disastrous proposals had made her feel sorry for him. And tonight he had seemed anything but dull and ordinary. That didn't mean he could compete with Drake or any other man. She had made an idiot of herself. Yet she couldn't look away. His eyes held her with invisible chains while the air around them crackled with untamed energy.