“Hot,” Marc finished for her. He leaned forward too, so both of her friends had their elbows on the table and looked a bit like two detectives interrogating a hostile witness. Or maybe that was just her imagination.
“He is hot as hell,” Marc stated, as if it was a fact that needed to be clarified. Then he broke out in a giant grin that had her sinking back in her seat with relief. She didn’t need Marc’s approval, by any means, but her best friend’s opinion meant a lot to her, especially when she wasn’t sure she could trust her own judgment. Like right now. Oh, she was still over the moon at the recent turn of events, but there was a little part of her that doubted it was real. It all seemed too good to be true.
When was the other shoe going to drop?
She didn’t have time to go down that path, since Caitlyn and Marc were bombarding her with questions. For a few seconds she couldn’t get a word in edgewise as her friends lobbed questions at her. Where to begin?
Finally, Marc said, “I mean, you two just met! How did this happen so quickly?”
Tamara’s breath caught in her throat as a vague sense of guilt dampened her happiness. Taking one more fortifying sip of coffee, she met her friend’s gaze. “Actually, we didn’t just meet. I’ve known him for quite a while.”
The silence that met that statement was deafening. She could sense the onslaught of questions and hurried to beat them. Looking from Marc to Caitlyn and back again, she launched into her story for the second time in as many days.
This time it was easier. So much easier. Somehow telling Gregory had unblocked the dam. His non-judgmental response and sympathetic ear had been exactly what she’d needed to overcome her fear of saying the words out loud. She still kept her eyes on the table—she didn’t want to see their pity or their anger. But when she was finished, she looked up and found only support.
Funny how telling her story made her body feel lighter, as if her past abuse had been a physical anchor weighing her down.
They had questions—of course they had questions. They had opinions and comments and more than a little anger toward her ex. As their anger grew, some of hers seemed to abate. As they expressed their hurt on her behalf, her pain subsided. There was closure in telling her story. There was relief in sharing her pain.
Huh. It had taken six years for her to learn that lesson, and she owed it all to Gregory. Warmth spread through her. After so long feeling like she had to hide from the world, even from her own friends, he’d come along and shown her she didn’t need to be afraid. He not only gave her the strength to tell her story but also showed her that talking about her past didn’t hurt her—it actually helped. And that not everyone would judge her. The people who truly cared about her wouldn’t look down on her.
Eventually, they got back to him. Not even her sordid tale could divert their interest in her newfound love life.
“I think it’s awesome,” Caitlyn stated.
“It is.” Marc’s tone was definitive.
But then there was a pause. Perhaps she was reading too much into it, but there was a definite pause.
“What?” she asked. “What’s the problem? Am I missing something here? Am I being an idiot?” She looked from one hesitant face to the other, and her stomach plummeted. “Seriously, you guys, I need some perspective here. Am I setting myself up for disaster?”
Every fear she’d been suppressing since he’d left her apartment the day before came rushing to the surface. She wasn’t pretty enough—God knew she wasn’t nearly as beautiful as his exes, who were paid to be stunning. She wasn’t stylish or sexy or worldly or any of those things.
It seemed her closest friends agreed.
“Are you sure he’s serious?” Caitlyn asked, her tone gentle, as if she were talking to a child.
Her heart sank for a moment. Caitlyn was friends with him, and she didn’t believe he could care about her.
Marc leaned in, his brow furrowed with concern. “We don’t want to see you get hurt, Tam. And it’s not like you have a lot of experience dating, let alone handling men like Gregory.”
A sad sigh slipped out. Men like Gregory. Meaning someone incredibly attractive, worldly… And who didn’t come with a boatload of luggage.
“You think he’s out of my league,” she said. She tried to keep any hurt out of her voice. It wasn’t their fault. They were just being honest, and the truth hurt.
Marc sat back with his hand over his heart. “That’s not what we’re saying.”
“Definitely not,” Caitlyn said. After a brief pause, she continued. “I haven’t known Gregory for long, but from what I’ve seen and what I’ve heard from Ben, he isn’t exactly good at commitments.”
Wasn’t that what Gregory’s father accused him of? Apparently that misapprehension was universal. But she knew better. If Gregory really cared about something or someone, he could be just as loyal as the next guy.
If he really cared. Did he really care about her or was she just a rebound after his latest breakup with that actress? Her friends clearly thought she was a passing fancy. She’d like to believe she was something more, but she had to face facts.
“We’re just worried about you,” Marc said. Once again he leaned forward. This time he reached out and grasped her hands in his. “You’ve clearly been through enough in your lifetime. You’ve had a rough go of it in the love department. I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”
Tamara swallowed. Neither did she. She honestly wasn’t sure if she could go through another heartbreak. Wasn’t that why she’d sworn off love all those years ago?
The new and improved Tamara didn’t date, she didn’t try to attract men, and she sure as hell didn’t fall in love.
Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, she tugged her hands from Marc’s. This was different. Gregory was different. He knew all about her past—he even had known her in her past. He knew where she came from and how she got here, and he hadn’t run screaming. That had to count for something, didn’t it?
But maybe her history was part of the novelty. Maybe he’d grow tired of her when it was no longer just interesting gossip and he realized it had changed her forever. That she had issues with trust that couldn’t be overcome and that she had a history that would follow her wherever she went.
Her stomach twisted into a knot as another fear took hold. What if his show of caring was because of her past? What if he pitied her?
Her friends were watching her, and finally Caitlyn broke the silence. “Tam, we didn’t mean to rain on your parade.” She glanced over at Marc. “Did we?”
He shook his head. “We just worry about you. Friends do that.”
She forced a smile. “I know, and I appreciate it. And maybe you have a point.” She swallowed down the anxiety this conversation had stirred and tried to recall the relief she’d felt in sharing her story with Gregory. He’d done that. He’d helped to free her from her past. He hadn’t judged and hadn’t held it against her.
She could trust him.
For the first time in a long time, she could truly trust someone. That counted for something. Hell, it counted for everything.
“I appreciate your concern,” she said again, this time with a stronger voice. “But I think we’ve got something good. I may not be in his league, but I come from the same world. I know him and he knows me.”
Her friends’ looks of surprise were almost comical. They clearly weren’t used to the new and improved, confident Tamara. “I don’t know how long this will last, but I know that I want to give it a shot. And so does he.”
Marc and Caitlyn exchanged a wide-eyed look. “Well all right then,” Marc said, a smile spreading slowly over his face.
Caitlyn was grinning too. “Maybe Gregory has finally met his match.”
* * * *
By the time Gregory arrived back in the city, it was too late to stop by Tamara’s. Much as he wanted to
see her, their reunion would have to wait until the following day when she would be his date to his family’s holiday party.
The wait seemed interminable. After nearly a week away from her, Gregory couldn’t think of anything else. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so smitten. His infatuation would have been amusing if it wasn’t so all-consuming.
He’d acted like a lovestruck teenager during his business trip to DC—calling and texting constantly, seemingly unable to go more than a few hours without touching base with her. God, was that what happened to Ben when he met Caitlyn? No wonder he’d acted like such an ass. Who could think straight when his brain, body, and heart were in a constant state of yearning?
He was so distracted that he nearly missed the visitor waiting for him in the lobby of his apartment building.
“Gregory.”
He froze midstep on his way to the elevator. He would recognize that voice anywhere—as would most Americans who owned a TV, he supposed.
“Vanessa.” Without turning he heard her stiletto heels tapping against the tiled floor. “What are you doing here?”
Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “Delighted to see you too, Greggy.”
He turned then and found himself face to face with the woman who had made his life a living hell off and on for the last two years. It was his own fault for not breaking up with her sooner, but still… Now that he had ended it for good, he was rather hoping he would never have to see her again.
Her long, brown, perfect curls swayed as she moved toward him in a little black dress that left nothing to the imagination. More than one magazine had claimed she had the perfect curves. Women everywhere paid good money to get her perky boobs and curvy butt. Once upon a time that had appealed to him, but now it did nothing. Funny what personality did to one’s looks. Let the rest of the world drool over his buxom ex. The only one he wanted was a petite blonde with an affinity for baggy sweaters.
Vanessa stopped a few feet away from him, her arms crossed over her chest and a familiar pout on her face. “I still have a box of my things up there. I need them.”
He sighed loudly. After one of their last blowouts, he’d had the fantastically terrible idea that he should ask her to move in with him. As if that would help the fact that they could barely stand to be in one another’s presence. That decision had been the deathblow to their sad excuse of a relationship.
She’d technically moved out more than a month ago, but “moving out” seemed to be a slow, torturous affair for Vanessa. It seemed she was constantly remembering “one last thing.”
“How did you know I’d be coming home today?”
“Your office,” she said as she led the way toward the elevator, acting for all the world as if she still lived in the building. Her sense of entitlement had always irritated him, but it had never seemed so obnoxious as it did now after getting to know Tamara. With her understated elegance, humility, and innate ability to laugh at herself, Tamara was basically the exact opposite of his spoiled, narcissistic ex.
He made a mental note to have another talk with the company’s receptionist. A fan of Vanessa’s, she’d caved to his ex’s line of questioning on more than one occasion. “You need to leave that poor girl alone,” he said.
She pushed the button for the penthouse suite as he stepped on the elevator. Turning to him, she gave him a fake smile. “Funny, I was going to say the same thing to you.”
He shouldn’t ask. He shouldn’t ask. He shouldn’t—
“What are you talking about, Vanessa?”
Her smirk had him cursing under his breath. Why had he given in to curiosity?
“I heard you’ve been seeing someone new.” Her tone was taunting. What was this, grade school?
He tried to sound bored, but his heart rate automatically accelerated at the mention of Tamara. Not that their new relationship was a secret, but the knowledge in this woman’s hands was dangerous. While Tamara might be paranoid about how vicious the gossips could be in their parents’ circle, they didn’t come close to the wrath and vindictiveness this woman was capable of. “Where did you hear that?”
“Does it matter?” she asked.
Her smug superiority was his answer. She’d been keeping tabs on him. The elevator doors slid open with a ding, and he gaped at Vanessa in disbelief. “Yes, it matters. Why the hell are you spying on me?”
She shrugged, ignoring his glare as she led the way to his door. “Honestly? I don’t know. Just possessive, I guess.” She stopped beside the door and waited for him to unlock it.
“We’re not together,” he bit out. “You have no right to be possessive.”
She shrugged and tossed her curls over one shoulder. “Old habit.”
As if that explained anything.
She pointed to the doorknob. “Are you going to let us in?”
With another weary sigh, he unlocked the door and ushered her in. The sooner she got in, the sooner she could leave. She walked through the foyer to the sunken living room and lingered there, trailing one hand over the back of the couch.
Part of him wanted to ask her what she wanted. She was clearly toying with him, leading up to something. But to ask would give her the edge. She’d see his curiosity as a win for her side.
That’s what it had always come down to with the two of them. Games. Winning and losing. Had there ever been a connection? If so, it had never come close to the sort of innate bond he’d felt with Tamara from the first moment he saw her. A bond that continued to strengthen every time they spoke.
For him and Vanessa, that spark—if it had ever existed—had burned out long ago. They’d hurt one another too badly for there to be any connection left except for shared memories.
Vanessa reached the end of the couch and spun to face him. “You’re going to hurt her.”
Her voice was smug and she wore a smirk that he knew and hated. “Who?”
She shrugged. “Whoever it is you’re seeing.” Taking long, slow strides, she made her way back to him, the edge of her slinky dress riding up as she walked. “Whoever she is, she won’t be able to handle you and your demons.”
He gave a little snort of disgust. “Come on, V. That’s a little melodramatic, even for you.”
She didn’t seem fazed by his snide remark. “But it’s the truth. Face it, Gregory—you and I worked because I understand you.”
God, he was too tired to deal with this. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Vanessa. It’s late. I need to go to bed.”
“I’m talking about your father,” she said, over-enunciating as though he were a child.
Gregory ran a hand over his face. He was too tired to fight, let alone hold a deep, meaningful conversation about his daddy issues. No thank you. “It’s time for you to go, V.”
She placed a hand on her hip and cocked her head to the side. “I think you should hear me out.” Her smile was as cold as ice. “Before you go and hurt Tamara.”
That made him freeze. His body tensed at the mention of Tamara. If she’d been digging into his new girlfriend, what the hell had she discovered? “Don’t bring her into this.”
Her eyes widened with false innocence. “You’re the one who brought her into it, Gregory, not me.”
Her words added to his tension, and much as he didn’t want to get dragged further down Vanessa’s rabbit hole, he couldn’t help himself. This was Tamara she was talking about. “Drag her into what?”
“Your toxic little feud with your father.” She radiated smugness from her pretty nose to her stiletto toes. “I know what you’re doing, you know. It’s so obvious.”
He clenched his jaw. He would not give her the satisfaction of asking what the hell she was talking about. It seemed he didn’t have to.
Leaning in so he was overwhelmed by the cloying scent of roses, she gave him that smirk he hated. “You’re trying to get back at
your father by dating that little nobody from nowhere.”
Despite her nasty words, he felt a quick stab of relief. If she called her a nobody from nowhere, she had no idea that Tamara was a Vanguard from Boston. The relief was short-lived as she continued in a know-it-all tone.
“It’s what you do, Gregory. You go out of your way to piss off your father like you’re hell-bent on proving him right.” She shook her head and crossed her arms over her considerable chest. “Everything you do is to spite him, regardless of who gets hurt in the crossfire.”
Her pout made it clear she was talking about herself now. With Vanessa, the conversation always started and ended with her. And maybe she had a point as far as she was concerned. He could admit to himself that part of the reason he and Vanessa stayed together so long was because his father hated them as a couple. She was everything he didn’t want for Gregory—always embroiled in a scandal. The woman lived for drama, on screen and off. So maybe in his own way he’d been playing games with her just as much as she’d toyed with him. Either way, they’d been bad for each other. Toward the end it seemed they’d hurt one another just for the hell of it.
But that wasn’t him and Tamara. This was different. He would never hurt her. And despite what Vanessa might think, their relationship had nothing to do with his family issues. What they had was deeper and stronger than anything he’d felt before. Hell, it was more than he’d known he was capable of feeling. It was scary as hell, but it was real.
What they had was the real deal.
Vanessa moved closer, reaching out a hand to stroke his arm. “I can handle you and your issues, Gregory. Do you think this new little debutante of yours will say the same after she gets to know the real you? Admit it, Gregory—I get you. And you get me and my baggage. We always did have an understanding.”
He nearly groaned at that twisted point of view. “We didn’t have an understanding, Vanessa. We just saw each other’s weaknesses and exploited them.”
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