by J. Sterling
“You alive in there?” she asked, her eyes searching for me behind my desk before landing on the couch. “There you are. I’m coming in.”
I stayed quiet as she moved to sit next to me, plopping her feet up on the table before leaning back. “So,” she started, “he’s seriously good-looking.”
“I’m aware,” I breathed out.
“I think he likes you, like really likes you.” Her head turned to face me, so I could look her in the eyes.
“He doesn’t even know me. You can’t like someone you don’t know.”
She huffed, “Fine. Then, I think he’s interested in you, really interested in you.”
“I don’t care,” I lied.
“Elizabeth.” She paused. “I think your hoo-ha has been closed for business for way too long. It’s officially killed you. If you weren’t turned-on by that man who was just in your office, then you are officially dead inside. Death by vagina neglect. We should probably have a funeral.”
I laughed and covered my face with my hands. “How do you come up with these things? My hoo-ha? Is that what they call it in the dirty South?”
“I didn’t know what else to call it!”
She laughed out loud, and I giggled beside her.
“I’m not dead inside, trust me. That man has made me far too aware of how undead my lady parts are—not to mention, how badly they want him,” I admitted with conflict in my voice.
“So then”—she looked up at me and batted her eyelashes like a love-struck teenager—“what are you gonna do about it?”
“Ignore it, and hope it goes away?” I batted my lashes back at her to show her how ridiculous she looked.
Her mouth fell open. “You absolutely will not.” She sounded horrified.
“You’re not the boss of me.”
“This is all going to be okay, you know. I know you’re scared.”
Her words caused my stomach to twist into knots. She was absolutely right. I was more than scared. I was plain terrified.
“But I think he’s worth the risk. Don’t you?”
Yes. “I don’t know. What if I’m just a challenge to him or something? What if none of it is real, and he just thinks he wants me? I can’t go through something like that, not with someone like him.” My admission spilled from my lips, surprising both myself and Barbara.
“I think it’s more than that.”
“How do you know?”
“Just trust me for once.”
I leaned my head against her shoulder. “I always trust you.”
****
I pulled my silver Audi to a stop in the underground parking of my beachfront condo. Living in Santa Monica never got old. I had an amazing view of the beach, and I could see the lights of the pier from my living room window. Beachside living was good, and I was blessed.
Once upstairs, I changed into a sports bra, tank top, and shorts before it got any later. I laced up my running shoes and stretched out my legs and arms, using my appliances for balance. I headed outside into the warm evening air, thankful for the ocean breeze. When I had the chance, I loved running down a bike path that stretched from Venice Beach all the way to Malibu.
I was determined to run my conflicted emotions for Daniel Alexander right out of my body. But that son of a bitch had proven more resilient than my feet pounding against the concrete because as I headed back forty minutes later, he was still firmly rooted in my mind with no intentions of leaving.
As I stopped to stretch after my run, a muscular frame caught my eye. A man was sitting on the concrete wall directly in front of my building. His head was in his hands, but I instantly recognized him. How was it that his frame was already ingrained in my consciousness?
Breathing hard, I stopped in front of him. “Stalking is illegal.” Was it? “Or at least frowned upon in most states.”
His eyes widened in surprise as they darted up to take me in. “Elizabeth,” he stumbled, not sounding like the arrogant, confident guy I’d come to know. “I didn’t know you’d be here, I swear.”
“Are you sure my assistant didn’t give you my address? She’s given you everything else it seems.” At this point, I’d put nothing past Barbara and her mission to get my lady parts in working order.
“I told you I had a meeting in Santa Monica tonight. I was just walking around, and I stopped to think.”
He didn’t look okay. His hair was frazzled, like he’d been pulling at it for hours, and his tie was loosened unevenly.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m so frustrated.” He eyed me before turning away. “These businessmen wanted to talk to me about investing in this brilliant fucking idea they have, but they don’t want to hear how they can make it better. Creative types always think they’re right, that their ideas are the only and best way.”
I moved to sit down next to him, torn between wanting to comfort him and wanting to keep my distance. “Tell me what happened.”
He stared off at the ocean instead of at me. “Everyone wants a piece of my money, right? You know how that is.”
I did know how it was but not to the level that he did.
“I get proposals to invest in start-ups all the time. This one…” His head shook as he turned to look at me. “This one is really brilliant, even James thought so.”
“Who’s James?” I breathed out, my heartbeat still trying to return to normal after my run.
“Sorry. He’s my business partner. Anyway, it’s so innovative, and I love the concept, but I can see the flaws in it. I pointed them out and told them how to fix it, but they were so pigheaded.” He raked his fingers through his hair before glancing up at me.
“People don’t like being told they’re wrong or that their innovative ideas aren’t innovative enough,” I said, not telling him anything he didn’t already know.
“It was a risk to begin with going into it, and I knew that. The lead guy on the project is a buddy of mine, which always makes shit weird, but he knows that I know what I’m talking about.”
“So, what has you pissed off more? The fact that they won’t listen or that he won’t?” I scooted my body a little closer to his and placed my hand on his thigh to calm and comfort him.
He tilted his head and rested it against my shoulder.
I tensed briefly before forcing myself to relax. “I’m sorry if I stink. I’ve been running.”
“I noticed. You don’t stink. You smell like you,” he said, not moving his head.
“Do you want to come upstairs? My condo is right here. Sounds like you could use a beer.”
What the hell was I thinking? A few hours ago, I’d wanted to maintain my distance from this guy, and now, I was inviting him into my most personal space. I considered myself a strong woman, but this was going too far, even for me.
“You know if I come upstairs, we’re not just going to talk.” He nudged against me.
“What do you mean?” I played stupid.
“You let me inside your place, and I’m going to try to have sex with you, Elizabeth.”
I nodded before standing up and reaching out my hand. “I know, Daniel. I know.”
He sucked in a long, deep breath as I waited, my hand empty. “I probably shouldn’t.” His words caused me to drop my hand to my side.
Did he just tell me no?
I was willing to chip away at the cement wall that I had not only wanted, but also helped to erect eight years ago. Now, I wanted to put every slightly moved brick back in its rightful place around my heart.
“I should go then.”
I turned to walk away from him when his hand reached out and grabbed mine. Turning back around to face him, I waited for him to say something. His silence sliced through my ego as he slowly let go of my hand. I couldn’t reach the entrance of my building quickly enough as I turned to go. I felt so stupid.
“Elizabeth?” His voice stopped me cold.
“What?” I asked before glancing back at him .
He waved me over. “I forg
ot to give this to you earlier.”
I watched as he pulled a plain white envelope from his jacket pocket and held it in the air.
“What is this?” I looked at it before grabbing it.
“Open it.”
I tore through the top and noticed a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill inside. “What is this for?”
“What can I say?” He paused. “You were right. You won the bet.”
I pulled my head back and furrowed my forehead. “What bet?”
“You bet me a hundred bucks that one of my friends with benefits wanted more, remember?”
“I remember.” A sick feeling washed through me. “So, how did you prove me right?” God, I didn’t want to know the answer to this question if it involved him having sex with someone who wasn’t me.
Daniel rose to his feet, his frame towering over mine. “I broke off my prior commitments, and one of the girls had a meltdown, a fucking meltdown.” He sounded so surprised. “She called me heartless and then basically said all the same stuff that you did, pretty much word for fucking word. It was brutal.”
He continued to talk, but my ears had stopped listening after hearing that he’d broken off his “prior commitments.”
“You stopped seeing your friends with benefits? When?”
“The night I met you.” He thumbed my chin and planted a kiss on my cheek before turning his body away.
“You sure you don’t want to come up?” I asked again as a rush of emotions soared through me.
“Not tonight,” he said before walking away.
16.
ELIZABETH
Maneuvering my car into my assigned parking space at work, I tried to rid my head of thoughts of Daniel when I should have been thinking about my nine a.m. meeting.
Apparently, he had flown back to San Francisco last night after our encounter. I wasn’t sure why exactly, but I’d half-expected to see him again or at least hear from him before he’d headed back to his part of the state. Maybe it was more of what I’d wanted than what I’d expected. Disappointment coursed through me, and that only proved to fuel both my intrigue and my annoyance.
Admitting to myself, if no one else, that Daniel Alexander happened to be growing on me was something I was reluctant to do, especially after last night. Granted, it could have been worse, I imagined. He could have come into my place, screwed me senseless, and then left without a word.
Which would be worse—rejection or being dismissed?
Ugh.
Eight years alone was a long enough time to get used to the idea of being single. All it had taken was one night at a stupid mixer I never wanted to attend in the first place to make me want to throw it all away.
Walking into my office, I flipped on the light switch and smiled at the roses on my desk. Shaking my head to rid it of all thoughts of him, I sat down and tried to focus on my upcoming meeting.
My cell phone pinged, and I looked down to see a text message from an unknown number.
Back in my sucky part of the state. It would be far less sucky if you were here with me. I’m sorry about last night.
Heat coursed through my body, and I felt my cheeks flush. I wondered how he’d gotten my cell phone number, but then I glared out my door at my assistant’s empty chair.
Who is this? Do I know you?
I giggled as I pressed the Send button. I was enjoying this flirtation, or whatever the hell it was, a little too much.
Can I call you? Or are you busy?
Gripping my phone, I stared at his words. I can do this, I thought, trying to convince myself. It would be okay.
You can call.
My cell phone vibrated almost immediately. “Hello?” I practically sang into the receiver.
“Miss Lyons.” His deep voice sounded even sexier through the phone.
“How did you get my number?” I cut to the chase.
He huffed out a quick laugh. “I’m not giving up my sources.”
“I think it’s a short list. I know who to blame.”
“Don’t be mad.”
“I’m not,” I admitted as I focused on a picture of the studio in 1942 hanging on my wall.
“I’m sorry I left like that.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Deny.
Deny.
Deny.
“So stubborn.” His voice sounded smooth and relaxed, almost like he was in bed.
“What can I say? You bring out the best in me.”
“Elizabeth,” he said my name, and I literally felt my body tingle. “I wasn’t in a good place last night. If I had followed you upstairs to your place, it would have ended badly.”
“Why’s that?” That easily, my anger was replaced by want.
“Because I was mad. I was frustrated, and I needed to figure out how to fix the shitstorm of a meeting I’d just walked out of. James was going to be pissed at me for blowing it, and I needed to brainstorm.”
“You didn’t tell me you’d walked out.”
“I walked out.”
“Smart-ass.” Every time he exhaled into the phone, I’d inhale, convincing myself that I was breathing in his air. “All I wanted to do was let you vent. I could have helped. I just wanted to talk.”
“Well, I wouldn’t have just wanted to talk to you, okay? We would have gone to your place, and I would have been dying to get you naked. I want you, Elizabeth. When I finally do get you, it’s not going to be because I had a shitty day at the office, and you’re feeling sorry for me.”
“Let’s get one thing clear.” My voice escalated as agitation bloomed. “I do not feel sorry for you, okay?”
The phone stayed silent, and I pulled it away from my ear to make sure the call hadn’t disconnected.
“Okay?” I asked again.
“Okay.” His voice sounded soft, and I wanted to curl up next to his body and envelop him. “So, do you forgive me?”
“Yes.”
“And we’re okay?”
“Sure.” I shrugged, wondering what that even meant.
“Good. Then, I want to see you again. I don’t care if I have to come down there every week or every day. You will give this a shot, and I’ll make up for last night.”
“Give what a shot exactly?” I questioned, already knowing the answer but desperately wanting to hear him say it.
“Us.”
“There is no us,” I responded, sounding like a brat.
“We’ve started something here. Fight it all you want, but it’s already happening, and you know it.”
I sighed and allowed the silence that followed to speak for me.
“Listen to me,” his voice started again. “I know you’re scared. I don’t pretend to know why, but I want to know. Someday, I hope you’ll tell me.”
“Why would I tell you anything?” I whispered as my mind replayed my dad leaving and Ben cheating, coupled with Daniel denying me last night.
“Eventually—and by eventually, I mean, really, really soon—” He paused, and I held my breath as I waited for him to finish. “I’m going to be your boyfriend. Although, I’m really more of a man, don’t you think? Soon, I’m going to be your manfriend, and you’re going to trust me and fall head over heels in love with me.”
I laughed hard. “You’re hilarious.”
“I’m serious.”
“Delusional much?”
“Not often.”
“I have to go.” I shifted in my chair, causing it to roll to the side.
“Talk to you later, babe. Have a good day.” He hung up before I could respond.
My thoughts recycled his words over and over until I felt almost dizzy from them.
17.
DANIEL
Subtlety had never been my strong suit. Being an aggressive businessman often spilled over into other aspects of my life, if I allowed it. When I saw something I wanted, I would go after it with vigor.
The minute Elizabeth had walked away last night, I’d cursed myself for blowing i
t with her, and I’d vowed to make it right. I knew that not going upstairs with her was the right thing to do, but I hadn’t even fucking said a thing about it to her. I’d let her walk away, thinking that I wasn’t interested. I’d make sure she knew that was the furthest thing from the truth.
I was interested.
I was all in.
A woman like Elizabeth wouldn’t stay single for long, and for the life of me, I had no fucking idea why she still was. I assumed it had to be on her end because there was no way that guys wouldn’t hit on her every time she left the house. She was gorgeous, and that wasn’t even the half of it.
Then again, we were talking about men in Los Angeles, and they were a different breed altogether—pussies, as I liked to call them, or pretty boys who cared more about their own wardrobe and hairstyle than any real man should. Most of them would have a hard time handling a successful woman like Elizabeth.
It was a good thing I wasn’t most men.
The sound of knuckles rapped on my door three times before it swung open without me saying a word. I didn’t even have to look up from my computer to know who it was.
“James.”
“Daniel,” he said before moving over to the full-sized couch and spreading out.
“Don’t you have work to do?” I tried to sound authoritative, but he only laughed.
James and I had been buddies since our freshman year at Stanford. We had been assigned to the same dormitory on the same floor, but we weren’t roommates. After a few too many beers one night, we’d realized that we were cut from the same cloth, as my mother would say. We had both been raised in affluent families, but we were determined to make names for ourselves without any help from our parents. It was a pretty typical story, if you asked me, but the difference between James and every other spoiled rich brat I’d met throughout my life until then was…he’d actually meant it.
When it came to the girls at our college, we were each other’s perfect wingman. My dark hair contrasted James’s blond locks, and girls were usually attracted to one of us immediately, depending on their hair-color preference. It was that easy.