by Helena Rac
When he left, of course I was emotional. I felt heartbroken and confused, yet angry and betrayed; I despised him. I’d got burned by a person I trusted, by a person who was supposed to be my “One.” And that left me overly cautious when it came to the opposite sex.
But I reasoned it all out. If he had planned to move and I had never considered anything but staying and opening my bakery, then it made sense that we’d have to part ways. So emotions very quickly gave way to logic. If I am really being honest with myself, I don’t know if I have ever actually been in love. And Jason was probably never quite in love with me either.
“You just never know,” Clara continues, “your Prince Charming could come along when you least expect it and sweep you off your feet!”
A less than likely possibility. Especially after how the guy who literally knocked me off my feet treated me, it’s not like I would ever open myself up to the possibility of that happening again.
“I don’t live my life through everyone else’s happiness,” I scoff. She gives me a look as if to say, Yeah, right. “It’s just that between work and, um, stuff,” I struggle to come up with another good reason that would make me seem like less of a workaholic, “I don’t often find the time to go out and play the game.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize that sounds so pathetic.
“You and your work excuse. Pu-lease! If you don’t make time and room in your heart for love, it will never happen.”
I sigh, knowing she’s probably right, even though I won’t ever admit it outright.
“And then you’ll die gray-haired and alone, with only a mob of cats attending your funeral.”
I really want her to think I’m exasperated by her rant, but I can’t help but laugh. She always knows how to make things light.
“Well, now that you’ve so pleasantly painted that picture, can we please talk about something else?” This is not the first time we’ve had this discussion. My love life sucks. I know.
A defeated look crosses her face. “Fine, I won’t say another word.” She pretends to zip her mouth with an invisible key and throws it away. “So everything’s under control for next Saturday?”
“You bet. I’ve got a few more things to finalize, but I promise, it will be just like you’ve always imagined. I know you’re going to love it.” Of course, I’m referring to her wedding cake – I have the details nearly memorized by now. I’ve reviewed my coveted cake planning list a gazillion times to make sure everything goes smoothly and as planned. “I’ve got it under control, as always,” I reassure her.
“I know you do. You always do. That’s the one thing I can count on. I just… Ugh, it’s just, the wedding is a week away, and I think it’s getting to me,” she sighs.
This is so not typical of Clara. She’s been a bit more on edge with the wedding around the corner. Not her usual carefree self, whom I’m used to and admire. I figure the pressure of all that comes with planning a picture-perfect wedding must have gotten under her skin a bit. I have a feeling she secretly wants to run off to Vegas to get hitched without having to do much more than book a plane ticket. But then again, that wedding wouldn’t come with the glory of it all, and she’s definitely one for show.
“Don’t worry, Clar. I’m sure everything will work out perfectly peachy.” I smile and try to comfort her, even though she’s normally the one to comfort me.
“Yeah. You’re right. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. Oh wait, I do – the wedding.” She laughs, and just like that she’s back to normal. It’s like’s she’s got an on and off switch. I wish I could borrow it sometimes. “I am so looking forward to our night out tonight!”
“Me too.” I play along, not wanting to ruin her excitement.
Marcus and Clara have planned a night out for just their closest friends, those who will be part of their wedding party. They want to make sure everyone has a chance to get to know each other, since friends from all walks of their lives are merging to celebrate their special day. We’re having dinner at a high-end restaurant that’s owned by one of Marcus’s groomsmen, and then we’re heading to a nightclub.
Clara loves to party; she makes it a point to always have a good time. It’s like her motto or something. Partying definitely isn’t one of my favorite things to do on a Friday night.
She gives me yet another one of those I-don’t-believe-you-for-a-second looks.
“What?” I plead innocently.
“I know how much you enjoy stuff like that, but please, just have fun tonight. For me?”
“I promise, I’ll try.” I sound as convincing as I can. “I know it’s important to you, and I’m your big sister, your maid of honor, so it’s important for me to see you happy.”
“Thanks. That means a lot,” Clara says as she walks over to give me a hug goodbye. “So I’ll see you later on tonight, then. Can’t wait!” she squeaks cheerfully once again, and then heads out. But before stepping outside onto the busy street, she pauses at the door and says, “And please don’t just try to have fun, but do, okay?”
I nod reassuringly. “I’m pretty sure I can manage that, Clar. It can’t be that hard.” I smile, then wave her off so that I can get back to work. She may not be convinced, but tonight I’m determined to have fun.
After work, I rush home to make sure I have enough time to get myself ready for the evening. I know I have time to spare, but I don’t like being late. I think I’ve established that already. Run-ins with delicious, sexy, manipulative strangers happen when you’re late.
I shower, pull my hair into a loose, low bun with a few tousles hanging freely on each side, and work on applying makeup as I contemplate what dress to wear for tonight’s occasion. I could go for a sexy red or a summery pink, but I settle for a little black dress. Simple yet flirtatious, the dress is sleeveless with a deep v-cut at the front. It’s tight fitting in all the right places, showing just the right amount of my ample cleavage. I top it off with crimson earrings and matching stilettos.
When I’m all done, I glance in the mirror one last time. Big, deep brown eyes stare excitedly back at me. Plump lips, high cheekbones, and chocolate-brown waves of hair frame my face. I’m attractive, but not what I would consider gorgeous – just a nice balance of curves and simple beauty.
“This should more than do the trick,” I say out loud, grinning happily. “It’s time to kick some ass!”
But as the words roll off my lips, a feeling of nervousness washes over me. My mind starts to wander from the control it exerts most of the time. It could be the fact that I am dreading being at a dinner table surrounded by appraising eyes reminding me that yes, I’m twenty-six and still single. Or the fact that my sister is getting ready to commit to a life of being somebody’s significant other. Though deep down I know the unease I feel in my stomach has nothing to do with either. No, the nerves start to wreck me just a bit at the thought of seeing him again.
Since the movie incident, as I like to refer to it (because it was just that – a temporary lapse in judgment, I’ve convinced myself), I’ve struggled to keep Luke out of my head. I’ve teetered between anger and desire, resentment and infatuation, all mixed together in a perfect blend of messed-up emotions. I despise him, yet my imagination seems to think he’s the only person able to fuel my sexual fantasies. It’s downright frustrating and sad – pathetic, even – that I have not been able to break this weird infatuation I have with him.
But after months of what have bordered on obsessive thoughts of Luke and endless fantasies of his magic fingers traveling up and down my body, I have finally decided that I can’t live like this anymore. It’s not healthy having a relationship with a memory. It’s actually kind of concerning. I’ve thought about it and come to the conclusion that I have no other option but to break this spell he has over me. If I can get back at him, if I somehow manage to return the “favor,” I hope that I will finally get some closure. That I can get back to being Rational Tessa, who’s in control of her feelings, of her life.
So I’ve done what I know best: I’ve crafted a plan. A perfect comeback. I grin villainously at the thought of how liberating it will feel when I bring Luke to a high and then leave him stranded, leave him wanting more. Two can play at this game, Mr. Callaghan. Tonight’s the perfect night, and by the end of it, I’m going to be free from Luke and this damn infatuation. I have somehow convinced myself that I’m not entirely crazy for thinking this is possible. I mean, how hard can it be?
“Tessa!” I hear my sister’s squeal as I enter the private dining room of the restaurant. The room is rustic and elegant, with a long wooden table, brown leather chairs, and dim lighting. Clara makes her way toward me and gives me a tight squeeze, Marcus following close behind her.
“Hey there, easy! I just saw you a few hours ago,” I gasp, almost breathless.
“I know. I’m just so glad you’re here. You look amazing, Tessa!”
“Thanks. So do you!”
Clara’s wearing a tight, pale yellow dress that accentuates her curves, plus a pair of matching pumps. She’s inherited Mom’s straight, dirty-blonde hair, which falls down her shoulders to her chest. She’s also inherited my dad’s ocean blue eyes that pierce right through you. She’s gorgeous.
Marcus is standing right beside her, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back. His eyes always seem to be focused on her, in a sweet kind of way. I’m quite used to their PDA by now, unlike in the early stages of their relationship.
“Hi, Marcus.” I give him a hug, even though I’m not normally the hugging type.
“Hey, Tessa. I’m so glad you made it.” Marcus is one of the most genuine people I have ever met. He’s polite and friendly, always a gentleman, and he’s quite attractive. Light brown hair, blue eyes, tall, masculine, sculpted. Beyond his looks, he’s absolutely crazy about Clara.
“Thanks. I’m glad to be here tonight.” The week leading up to a wedding is always full of excitement. I’m thrilled that I can share in these moments with my sister and her soon-to-be husband.
“So I see mostly everyone’s here?” I ask, but a little bit of intel I was able to obtain from Clara a few weeks ago means I know Luke will be arriving late. This has been of utmost importance as I’ve schemed and meticulously put together my plan. So as I quickly scan the table, I’m glad to see everyone is seated except for me and Luke. Perfect.
“Almost everyone. Luke’s on his way in,” Marcus confirms.
Ever since that night at the movies, Clara and Marcus have tried to get the scoop on whether anything happened between Luke and me. I decided it was best to keep things under wraps. I mean, obviously it’s not something I would ever discuss with Marcus, because … embarrassing and so not appropriate for discussion with your future brother-in-law. Even with Clara, who’s clearly starved for signs of romance in my life, I chose to give only a few hints, rather than the full X-rated version. Not necessarily because it happened, but because I, Tessa Maria Conte, a self-professed emotional control freak, let my control slip so easily that night.
And after the way Luke left things between us, I sure as hell am not going to let that happen again. I’m not going to let him get to me this time around. I have an Evil, Kick-Ass Plan.
“Oh, I see,” I reply. “Well, I’m glad that everyone else has made it in. This is such an exciting time for you guys!” I hope to change the subject and act as if I’m unaffected by the mere mention of Luke’s name, but underneath, my stupid heart begins a dreadful yet exhilarating race, anticipating how it will likely stop beating at the first sight of him. This does not bode well for my plan.
Before we all get seated, I make sure to say hello to the rest of the wedding party. First, there are the three bridesmaids, Liz, Paige, and Lila. Liz is my cousin on my mom’s side and a close friend. I don’t know Paige and Lila well, though I’ve gotten to know them better over the last few months, since Clara’s engagement.
As far as the groomsmen go, in addition to Luke, there’s Levi and Theo, neither of whom I’ve met before. Levi is the owner and executive chef at the restaurant we’re at, conveniently enough, and Theo is a lawyer. And then there’s Ian, Marcus’s childhood friend and his best man. I had the “pleasure” of meeting him a few weeks ago, when the four of us had dinner together to go over the wedding plans. He’s an investment banker and isn’t at all shy about sharing stories of his accomplishments.
Since I timed my arrival ever so perfectly, there are only two empty chairs left. I take a seat next to Ian and wait for the blank space next to me to be filled. What I mean by “wait” is alternate between looking nervously at the empty chair and looking at the door, anticipating the inevitable. I try not to fidget too much, but I feel like biting my manicured crimson nails. I hate to admit it, but I’m craving a glimpse of the man who made my heart flutter months ago. But I’m resolute – there is no way I’m going to let him take advantage of me this time around. Nope, I have a plan. Did I mention it was an Evil, Kick-Ass Plan? Because it is.
Ian tries making small talk with me. I hear the jumble of his words and nod, but I have difficulty focusing. At least I manage to provide brief responses when prompted. After all, I’m the maid of honor, and I have to behave.
As I take a sip of my wine, I hear Marcus call out, “Luke! You made it!”
And there he is. Popping up in my life yet again. I steal one glance, and his smoldering eyes capture mine. Jesus. He is just so fucking hot. That is the only thing I can process at the moment. I swear it feels as though I’ve forgotten how to breathe.
Luke’s impeccably put together in black pants and a dark green button-up shirt with rolled-up sleeves that accentuate his sculpted arms. His hair is just as I remember it: short at the sides, messy at the top, ready to be played with. He’s sporting day-old stubble that makes his lips pop. And not surprisingly at all, I have an urge to bite them.
“Everyone, last but not least, Luke,” Marcus exclaims, patting Luke on the shoulder and then giving him a crazy-man bear-hug.
“Sorry I’m late,” Luke replies cheerfully, waving a quick hello. “We were delayed out of Heathrow, and the traffic on a Friday night … well, I don’t have to tell you.”
Marcus introduces Luke as they make their way around the table, and when they finally come to me, he says matter-of-factly, “And of course, you’ve met Tessa.”
“That I have,” Luke replies, and his bright smile nearly knocks me off my chair. I gather myself rather quickly and smile back – a flirty smile, one that tells him I know exactly what kind of “meeting” we had last time. A hot, impromptu meeting of his fingers and my panties.
I extend my hand confidently, as if not at all affected by him. Because I’m not. Not by the way his gaze travels to my lips like he may want to taste them; not by the way he takes hold of my hand, brings it to his mouth, and plants a soft kiss; not by the way my body reacts to his scent, like he’s freshly showered after a day of traveling. Warmth spreads through me, and it’s not from the sip of wine I just took. I suddenly feel very, very hot. Get yourself together, Tessa!
“Nice to see you again, cupcake.”
“Nice to see you again, too, stranger,” I say confidently.
Luke smiles as he sits down next to me. The chair that was empty only minutes ago is no longer. And so here it goes – Evil, Kick-Ass Plan, Part A: The Flirting.
Step One: I don’t want to seem too obvious, so I start things off slowly. As Luke sits down, I pretend not to pay attention to him, and chat instead with Ian. I sip my wine and act as if I’m having the most interesting discussion. While Ian is talking my ear off, out of the corner of my eye I notice Luke glancing at me in between exchanges with Lila. Great start!
Step Two: Luckily, as the main course arrives, Ian finally takes a break from boring me and decides instead to brag to Paige. Since I’m just about done my glass of wine, it’s a perfect time for a refill. And also to drive Luke crazy. He’s still talking with Lila, so he doesn’t immediately notice when I reach for the bottle of wine that’s in f
ront of him. But of course, as I lean in, my breasts brush against his arm, and that’s just enough of a connection for him to turn toward me.
His eyes travel to my breasts instantly, as if to confirm they were the source of the interruption (yes they were!), but he regains his focus and offers to help. As he grabs for the bottle, I reach for it too. Our hands connect again and … damn it! I hate that simple skin-on-skin with Luke affects me so much. I thought that by now I would be better able to control my reaction to him.
I mentally count to five, gather my wits, and reply coolly, “Thanks. Allow me to return the favor,” then smile as I fill his glass. Except as I do, my other hand travels ever so inconspicuously to his thigh. Familiar? It should be.
Step Three: “So how was your flight?” I ask, hoping to engage in some innocent conversation now that I have his attention. All the while my palm is less than innocently massaging the muscles that are hiding beneath the fabric of his pants. My touch is sensual and purposeful. The heat of his skin radiates through and creates a bubbly feeling in my stomach. God, he seems so fit – it’s tight muscle all along his thigh. I wonder if he’s a runner.
He looks down at my hand, takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes, like he’s struggling with whatever feeling my touch may be evoking. When it’s apparent his composure is back, he answers, “My flight was long. Too long. And high … with anticipation.”
Oh. Dare I ask? The question is out of my mouth before I can stop myself.
“And what is it that you were anticipating so highly?”
He mouths silently, “You.”
His answer stalls the motion of my hand for a moment. I think I need more wine. In my fantasies I must have had Luke say he wants me in one form or another more than I’d like to admit, but now that I’ve heard him actually say it, it seems surreal. I didn’t quite expect to hear it from him so directly, but I have obviously forgotten how bold Luke can be.