by J. C. Reed
“I think you look sexy.”
“You do?”
Her eyes linger on my mouth. I know what she’s thinking. Under different circumstances, I’d just go for it. But instead, I fight the urge to kiss her and let the moment pass.
“Yeah, I do.” Her cheeks flush a little and she looks away.
She’s attracted to me. In spite of whatever she’s trying to make herself believe, her body gives her away.
The thought brings a smile to my face. “Have you ever thought about opening a salon?”
“Why would I?”
I shrug my shoulders. “You’re not half bad at this. Besides, you’ll already have a returning customer.”
“I don’t think I could.”
“Why not? I tip well. You could probably earn a living from my tips alone.”
She shakes her head, but her eyes glaze over, as though the thought has already occurred to her but she’d decided not to pursue it further. “For starters, I love my job.”
“The one at the nursing home?”
“That one.” She catches my glance. “It’s hard, but I like working with old people. I know what most people say about old folks, but…” There’s a challenging glint in her eyes. Defiance, like the people in her life have often questioned her choice of work and she’s determined to show them. I grimace, and she laughs. “Oh, my God, you, too? Please don’t tell me you hate the elderly.”
“Sorry,” I say and grimace again. “It’s not hate, per se. But I can’t help it. I find old people unbearable. I work in marketing, but when I was younger, at the beginning of my career, I interned in a call center for insurance stuff, and I hated it. You can’t reason with them. Can’t come to an agreement. We had this policy that expected us to keep every conversation under three minutes. Have you ever tried that? It’s impossible. Just because they’ve lived through more stuff than we have, they think we ought to listen to their stories I don’t give a fuck about.”
“Well, I have a different opinion on that.” She brushes a strand of hair back and her jaw sets stubbornly. “Sure, their stories are longwinded and often suit no purpose, and yes, they can be unreasonable, but I like them. I think there’s something to learn from each and every one of them.”
I frown. “Why?”
“What do you mean by why?” She mirrors my frown, and I sense our first disagreement—one of many. “They’re dealing with the aftermath of losing friends and family. Every day, they struggle with being alone because their grown-up kids and grandkids can’t be bothered to visit them. Now, this doesn’t apply to everyone, but most of them are forgotten, which is a pity. We have so much to learn from their experiences.”
“Like what?” I ask, unimpressed.
“Like to treasure life and learn from past mistakes. You wouldn’t believe the stories they could tell you if you only cared to listen. I’ve learned that challenges make couples stronger and that love doesn’t need to be searched for. That you can’t force it. That love at first sight exists. I’ve heard so many love stories that I know I want it for myself. I want to get married, grow old together.”
Staring at her, I wait for repulsion to wash over me, but nothing happens.
“You have your boyfriend,” I point out.
“Yeah. I have Bruce.” She turns her head away, and in that instant I know something’s going on between them, and it’s not pretty. Her posture’s rigid and there’s a strained expression on her face.
She looks upset—I can see it in her eyes.
“Did I say something wrong?” I ask carefully.
She shakes her head. “I’m going to get dressed.” With that, she storms out.
Chapter Thirteen
Vicky
AN OPEN LETTER TO JANE AUSTEN
* * *
Dear Jane,
* * *
I think we have a lot in common, even though centuries separate us. Honestly, I know it’s just fiction, but I believe that every word you wrote in your books is part of your life experience coming from the deepest recesses of your soul. In your book, Mr. Darcy shows little interest in Elizabeth Bennet. In fact, he refuses to dance with her. I guess that was the expression you used for the today’s slang term “hook up.” My Bruce doesn’t like to dance with me, either. He has yet to reply to any of my ten emails. He’s probably too busy at work. Is it wrong that I opened a fake Facebook account so that I can spy on him? Is it wrong that I used a Victoria’s Secret model’s face as my profile picture? As it happens, I have sent him a friend request. Fingers crossed he’ll accept it.
* * *
Yours affectionately,
Vicky Sullivan
* * *
P.S. I know Catfish would have a field trip with this one. If it helps, I do think we (the model and I) look a bit alike depending on whom you’re asking, and obviously lots of good lighting.
Chapter Fourteen
Vicky
Sneaking out of the LAA Center building is much easier than I thought. In fact, it might be the easiest thing I’ve ever done. There are no security guards. The reception area is unmanned. It pretty much involves just walking out the door and no one giving a damn about it.
From outside, almost all windows are lit, including Kade’s and my apartment, left to look as though we just stepped outside and would be right back. It suits the purpose of fooling anyone who might come checking on us, even though I’m pretty sure no one will bother.
When Kade suggested we walk the small distance to the intersection, I agreed, which I shouldn’t have.
“Where are we going, Kade?” I ask for the third time in what feels like at least twenty minutes. “There’s no restaurant nearby.”
Or on the island.
I glance at the moon rising between the clouds. Night is about to fall, and I really don’t want to be walking around a deserted street in an unfamiliar place.
If Kade isn’t careful, someone is going to see us and report us.
“Where is your trust?” He shoots me a cocky smile, repeating my previous choice of words.
“If you’re thinking about dragging me into the woods and raping me, you should know that I took a self-defense class, and I’m not afraid to kick your ass.”
He stops and turns to face me. “Let me get this straight. You’re a stalker, a fighter, and a rebel.”
“I’m not a fighter.”
“No?” His gaze sweeps over my body appreciatively. “What is it that you do? Karate? Jiu-jitsu? Pillow fights, maybe?”
I stick out my tongue. “It’s kickboxing, asshole. And I know the best place to hit you to take you down. If I were you, I would be careful what you say next.”
“No need. You hit me pretty well when you stepped out in that red dress.” He gives me another glance and shakes his head. “Wow. I just want to strip you naked.”
My heart skips a beat.
Shit.
He did not say that!
Why the hell did I put on a tight dress?
It’s a bold shade of red, too.
“This is how I dress every day,” I lie.
“It’s a nice cocktail dress, without a doubt,” he says. “I’ll have my hands full beating the competition off.”
I give him a little shove. “I’m not going to cheat on Bruce. Not with you, not with anyone. We’ll have dinner, as agreed, but I’m only doing this because you gave me no choice.”
“Not because you like me?” His eyebrows shoot up, and I close my eyes, letting out a groan. I know how it sounds, and it’s wrong on so many levels. “Okay, you gave me a choice. The thing is, I need that phone. I need to make sure he’s okay.”
“Stalking him much?”
“Shut up,” I say with more anger than I actually feel. “I don’t need your judgment. What the hell is it you do when you’re not thinking of sex, Kade?”
“A few weeks ago? Or right now? Let me think.” He remains silent for a few moments. “A few weeks ago, I would have said, nothing. Now, however, I’m trying to be
come a writer.” He seems so earnest, I find myself laughing. “I should tell you that I’ve started writing a journal while you were squeezing into this exquisite little thing.” He points at my dress. “And, get this. I think I’m going to turn it into a story. Less of a memoir and more of a—” He taps a finger against his lips, looking for the right word.
Oh, this is going to be good.
“A story?” I prompt. “About what, for crying out loud?”
“About a man who’s a sex addict and—” He breaks off as he catches my grin. “I’m not talking about myself, obviously.”
“Obviously. I can’t wait to read it,” I say sarcastically. “All three hundred pages of a dick’s sexcapades. I hope you have a thick skin.”
He lets out a laugh. “Trust me. I have. The only thin skin is the one that’s pulsing between my legs.”
I don’t know why, but a hot sensation builds between my legs.
“Gross,” I say and resume walking, putting some distance between us. He catches up with me in no time.
“You saw the picture.” It’s more a statement than a question.
“No, I didn’t see your cock.” The lie comes out all wrong. “I mean, I can only assume you’d have a picture of a cock on your phone. Not that I know what you’re talking about. Obviously.”
He lets out a laugh.
It’s irritating, but at the same time also sexy and captivating.
“I wouldn’t have lent you my phone if I had known you’d be bothered by it.”
“Nothing scares me,” I say. “As a nurse, I’ve seen plenty of naked people in my life.”
“I knew it.” His smile is back in place, and I realize he smiles a lot. As though life isn’t so bad, and there’s always something to laugh about. I like that attitude in people. Come to think of it, I like Kade’s smile. But if he isn’t being careful, it’s going to stay stuck forever. “You’re one hot nurse. I bet the guys flashed everything they had to get your attention.”
“That’s a preposterous assumption. I—” I shake my head. “People don’t do that.”
“Trust me, guys do.” His fingers entangle with mine, and with a soft tug he guides me to the other side of the street. “The driver’s here.”
“What—” My words die at the back of my throat as I notice the black limousine blending in with the shadows. I might not be versed in riding luxury cars, but I’m not seeing one for the first time. My sister’s birthday parties always involve renting something that you usually only see in auto magazines.
“What the hell, Kade?” I turn my head to him. “You want us to break out?”
“I want us to go out.” He smiles, his white teeth building a strong contrast to the darkness surrounding us. “We’ll be back before they even notice we were gone.”
I close my eyes and force air into my burning lungs. “This can’t be happening. This isn’t what I agreed to at all.”
“You have no choice,” Kade whispers behind me and opens the door. “The driver’s booked. I can’t back out of this just as much as you can’t. And I’ll gladly remind you that you already said yes. There’s definitely no going back on your word.”
I groan. “Again, if I so much as find myself in a strange situation, I swear I’ll—”
“You’ll kick me where it counts so I may never have kids,” he finishes for me. “Got the memo.”
“Those weren’t my exact words, but yes, that’s pretty much the plan.”
He motions at the car again. This time, I can sense his impatience. With a defeated sigh, I get in, settling on the backseat.
The fact that I didn’t put up much of a fight pisses me off, and yet I went along with whatever Kade has in mind.
It’s because of Bruce.
Out of my periphery, I see the driver watching us in the mirror.
The way Kade settles next to me, his thigh glued to mine, even though there’s enough space to lie down and not touch each other, it looks like we’re a normal, dating couple.
Couple.
Where the hell did that come from?
“Fine. I hope I’m not going to regret this,” I say, repeating his words.
“I don’t see why you would. There will be drinks, fun. Heck, you can even call Bruce and rub it in his arrogant face.”
I let the arrogant part slip as my pulse picks up speed. Maybe all’s not lost.
Back in my room, I used Kade’s phone to check if Bruce had replied. Instead of an email, I found that he had unfriended me on Facebook. His actions hurt, but what hurt me more was the discovery that he had accepted my catfish account’s friend request.
Is Bruce into blondes like most guys are said to be?
“How did you get this drive?” I ask.
“A friend?” Kade half asks, half states.
“He has to be a really good friend if he sends a limo.”
He shrugs. “I guess everyone has a price. People’s loyalty can be bought.”
I’m not sure I wholly agree with that, but I let it slide.
“I can’t believe the driver even found this place. Whoever hired him must be rich.”
“Cash Boyd.” Kade raises his eyebrows at my clueless face. “You don’t know him?”
I shake my head. “Should I?”
“Club 69.”
That doesn’t ring a bell either.
“Cash is probably the richest nightclub owner in the world. He’s in the magazines all the time,” Kade elaborates, which earns him another clueless expression from me. “Where the hell have you been living, Vicky?”
“If you want to make fun of me because I don’t read the kind of magazines you’re probably referring to, then please, go ahead. Be my guest. I don’t mind.”
I don’t feel that I’ve been missing out just because I don’t frequent clubs or don’t know who the hell his friend is. That just isn’t me.
I stare at him, challenging him to start ridiculing me. But he doesn’t.
The car takes off and I turn to the window, looking at the woods passing us by even though it’s too dark to make out more than the trees and branches’ silhouettes.
“You know what? I won’t,” Kade says. “I’m going to shut up and pretend I never asked.” He opens a drawer and pulls out a bottle, examining it shortly before lifting it up to show me the label. “Drinks?”
“Thanks, but I’ll pass. I get drunk easily.”
In the reflection of the tinted window, I see him inclining his head. His expression is the same one he used on me before. “This is a five-hundred dollar bottle, baby. And it’s free, courtesy of my friend. Are you telling me in all honesty that you’re not interested in trying a drop?”
Turning to him, I eye the bottle, wondering how people can justify spending so much money on a bottle of wine. Then again, they can afford it and probably don’t know what else to do with their money.
I do feel a bit thirsty, and I haven’t had wine in a long time.
“What’s the harm, right? I’ll have half a glass.”
“Good choice.” He retrieves two wine glasses from a cabinet and places them on a small counter before pouring the wine.
“That’s more than enough,” I say, signaling him when to stop.
He hands me my glass and lifts his. “Here’s to us breaking all the rules.”
I nod my head and take a sip, then another.
Damn.
That’s one good wine and definitely worth its price tag.
Chapter Fifteen
Vicky
“You didn’t say we were going to a club opening.” I stare at the rows and rows of people gathered outside Club 69.
“Must have slipped my mind. Now, come on,” Kade says with a wink.
In spite of my usual dislike for clubs and huge crowds, I’m excited. The place is huge with a luxurious flair—not in the slightest the kind of places Bruce took me to.
There’s a red carpet spread outside, leading from the long line of limousines to the open doors with ushers dressed in bla
ck suits parked outside. I can’t help but notice that even the crowd is dressed to the nines.
“Are you sure we’ll even get inside?” I ask, eyeing the ushers who seem to be very picky. Not only do they check IDs, they also have a list. “Those bouncers look like they beat people for a living.”
“What’s up with all the questions, Vicky? Don’t you trust me?”
I heave an exasperated sigh. “When you said you wanted to go out, I assumed you’d pick a small, private place where we wouldn’t be seen by half of the world. Not that.” I point my finger to the photographers camped outside, eager to take pictures of whoever might look remotely famous. “If one of them takes a picture of us just by mistake, we might end up in the papers. If Bruce’s mom sees me, she’ll have a reason to put me away for good. I could lose my job, and the judge might—”
I almost choke on my breath. It’s such a long shot, and yet I can’t help the sudden panic shooting through me.
Kade’s arm is heavy on my shoulder as he spins me around to look at him. My breath catches in my throat. He’s way too close, his lips within reach.
I inhale a shallow breath, my gaze glued to his mouth, and I can’t help but wonder if he tastes as good as he looks.
But mostly it’s his eyes that are doing strange things to me.
They are wild and beautiful. If one glance can undo me, what would happen to me if I had him naked and at my disposal? Could I stop myself from kissing him? Would the warm, fuzzy feeling inside me evaporate or turn into the raging volcano I can feel bubbling beneath the surface?
What the hell are you doing, Vicky?
I freeze and bite my lip, unsure how to fight the attraction I seem to be feeling for him even though I’m very much in love with Bruce.
“I said everything will be fine,” Kade says, misinterpreting my hesitation. “I’ve got us covered.” He lets go of me and squeezes out of his jacket, handing it to me. “Put it on.”