“Hello again,” I opened, approaching his table like prey walking into the embrace of a lion. A well-dressed lion. I tried to appear confident, however, I was anything but. “Can I get you a Macallan?”
A wide smile spread on his face. It was the kind of smile that made you happy to be in its presence. My heart started to race.
“Well, well,” he said, winking.
“Or did you care for something else?” I continued.
“No. Macallan is perfect. And I’m all the more hopeful.”
“Hopeful for…?”
“Us.”
“What do you mean ‘us.’ It’s just a drink order.”
“No sweetheart, it’s more. If it were just a drink, you wouldn’t have remembered my label.”
Was that true? Yes, it was true. I had remembered his exact drink. “Maybe I’m just really good at what I do.” I winced at the unintended innuendo. I prayed that he wouldn’t take it the wrong way, and that I wasn’t blushing, but I was sure I was and I was sure he would.
“I’d love to find out.” Oh god! Of course, he would take it the wrong way.
I was stunned into silence. This man was loaded with confidence. And as I tried to fight my way out of this hole of embarrassment I’d dug for myself, there was something about his face, his insanely handsome face, that seemed so familiar. I would have to figure this out. It was going to drive me completely insane.
“Do you need a menu tonight?”
“No need.” He settled his eyes on mine and started in. “I’ll start with the Macallan. For dinner, I’ll take the ten-ounce filet, medium-rare, baked-potato, with butter and sour cream on the side, and a side of the roasted Brussels sprouts. Vinegar and oil with the salad. I’ll have glass of Stags Leap cab with dinner.” Then, pulling in his lower lip and running his teeth over it, he continued, with his eyes boring right into mine. “I have something in mind for dessert, but it’s not on the menu.”
“I can check with –” Oh! I stopped mid-sentence catching on to his message. “Um. I’ll go get your ticket started and be right back with the Macallan.”
On wobbly legs, and with a ragged breath, I made my way back behind the bar and entered his order. Thankfully as I was bringing his scotch to his table, two more tables sat and the night took off.
The constant flow of traffic was soothing, but Jack stayed the whole time. People often stopped at his table to chat with him. All sorts of people, too. Business types. Ordinary types. I swore I heard one visitor to his table ask for an autograph. At one point, a group of three tall, stick-thin women, all looking like leggy supermodels, stopped and Jack bought them a round of drinks. I’d never felt mousier, serving these girls who had to be half my age and were taller than me, even without their three inch heels.
It was nearing ten-thirty, the bar was quiet, allowing Tom and I to get to know each other a bit. He was really a sweet guy. He talked about his wedding and honeymoon with Jamie, but it wasn’t until he started showing me photos on his phone that I learned Jamie was a guy.
Jack sauntered up to the bar and handed me his check folder.
“Welcome back, Tom. I look forward to hearing all about Barbados. I assume the house was in good order for you and Jamie?
“It was amazing, Jack. Thank you again for letting us use it,” Tom replied.
Turning his attention to me, Jack smiled seductively. “And thank you, Beth. I’ll see you soon. Keep the change.” He winked then turned and walked out. I watched him leave. His smooth walk and über confidence would entrance anyone.
“So, what’s the deal with you and Jack? He didn’t take his eyes off of you the whole night,” Tom asked.
“You tell me. Is he like this with everyone? And that place in Barbados was his?”
“Fabulous beach house. And no, he’s not really flirtatious with anyone that I’ve seen. Women fall all over him, but he doesn’t really reciprocate. He’s polite and all, but in the end it’s mostly ‘just business.’ When I first met him, I actually hoped his cool attitude toward women meant that there was hope for me. Until I met Jamie, that is. Not to mention the industry he is in.”
“What does he do?”
“Wait. Are you serious?” I sat deadpan, not understanding Tom’s shock. “That’s Jack Stevens. Most notably, he was the Guess Jeans model and Drakkar Noir model twenty-some years back, and now runs JSS Models, Inc.” I blinked at Tom a few times, like he had just spoken in another language. “Are you telling me you had no idea?” he asked, nearly laughing.
I shook my head slowly, but that certainly explained several things. Why he looked so familiar, why he was so confident, and the leggy supermodels earlier. “I feel like such a dunce! How did I not recognize him?”
Then realization hit me even harder. He’s ‘Jackass Jack.’ From my tiny rural hometown of Charter Oaks, Colorado – that Jack Stevens. He wasn’t just familiar because of his modeling celebrity, he’d gone to school with my sister, Suzie. Well, he was a couple years ahead of her. I wasn’t very close to Suzie, because she was seven years older than I was. He dated her best friend, Jenny. When they’d broken up, Suzie and Jenny started calling him ‘Jackass-Jack,’ a nickname that stuck even through my days in high school, when he was long gone.
Jack came from the outskirts of town, the youngest of eight in a family of ranchers. I remember the talk around town that the parents weren’t really involved – maybe because they were too busy with the ranch, too tired, or maybe just indifferent. The whole Stevens clan still lived in town and worked on the ranch, except for Jack, from what the local gossip mongers shared.
Jack had gone to work in a grocery store after graduation to save money for college. He would have been the first Stevens to go to college. But while stocking shelves, he was discovered by a modeling agent and moved to New York. It was a big deal back then, still was, for the area.
Suzie was getting a call when I was off the clock.
I opened the check folder to close out Jack’s bill and thought I’d gone completely mad. His bill was one hundred and twenty dollars, but he left two crisp one hundred dollar bills in the folder. Big tips were nice, but this was excessive.
I should have just asked her to drinks. Who cared that Tom was standing there? He wouldn’t have. It’s not like he was trying to hook up with her. It’s not what I wanted to do either. I didn’t want to just hook up with her, I wanted to get to know her.
Why didn’t I just ask her then? Where was my confidence? I’ve never hesitated when I wanted to ask a woman out. She’s bewitched you, dumb-ass, that’s why, I chided myself. She certainly had.
It wasn’t her looks that had grabbed me either. I saw amazing looking women all day. Nearly naked ones, too. Women who were young and eager to please. Women who’d jump at an opportunity to go out with me.
But she was different. She had an innocence, a sense of adventure, and a confidence, without being brash or snobbish. She was a breath of fresh air. She made me feel comfortable.
CHAPTER 9
After closing out Jack’s bill, Tom let me go since it was so quiet. The night air was cool and refreshing and the Monday night streets were quiet. I started walking up Lexington Avenue and almost immediately I pulled out my cellphone. I brought up Suzie’s phone number and pressed CALL. Three rings and no answer, I got her voicemail. “Hey Suze, it’s me, Liz. I need you to call me when you get this message. It’s about ‘Jackass-Jack. ‘Bye.”
I stuffed my phone back into my purse and, instead of hearing the buzz of traffic, I heard footsteps behind me — like I was being followed. That’s what I get for being on the phone, at night, alone in Manhattan. Listening carefully, the footsteps were definitely a man’s. That much I could discern.
Fighting the urge to look back and give my would-be assailant any upper hand, I tugged my purse under my arm tighter and quickened my pace. To my horror, the footsteps behind me also accelerated. The hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end, and it wasn’t because of the haircut. Was I be
ing chased down the streets of Manhattan by a mugger? Or a rapist? Oh god! I was thinking I had it all together and here I was about to get mugged, or worse!
I was practically running, my heart pounding in my ears, palms sweaty. I was trying desperately to recall the self-defense lessons I had taken with Phoebe before she left for college, when a hand came down on my shoulder. I screamed loudly. Pivoting, keeping my head down, I raised a foot and stomped with all my might on the foot of my attacker.
“Shit!” he said and leapt off of his now injured foot. And it was then that I noticed his extremely polished and expensive looking leather shoes. At the bottom of perfectly pressed trousers. A fancy dressed attacker? I peered up to see a wincing ‘Jackass-Jack.’
“Ohmigod! Jack! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean – I didn’t know – I – I –” There I was, stammering like a fool.
“That’s okay, Beth. I’ve got another foot. Not sure the Pradas can say the same.”
“You wear Prada shoes?” I don’t know why that stunned me, but it did, and suddenly I was laughing. Knowing the ranch where Jack came from and that now he was wearing Prada shoes was an image that sent me into giggle fits.
“You find Prada amusing?” he asked with narrowed eyes and a small smile on his face.
“No… yes… Well, yes. I do. I just think of Prada as being for women, I guess. I’m sorry.”
“Well, you know what this means, don’t you?”
“No,” I said, afraid of his answer. I couldn’t afford a pair of Prada shoes on my tips. I was still uncertain I would be able to pay for rent.
“You owe me a date,” he said quite matter-of-factly.
“Ah, but I’m married, Jack. So, we’ll have to find another manner of compensation for the scuff I’ve left on your shoes,” I said, still giggling that Jack Stevens’, from a poor ranching family in rural Colorado, was wearing Prada.
“Nope. No other way.”
Suddenly I was curious as to why Jack was following me. He’d left the bar a good ten minutes before I had.
“Wait. Why were you following me?” I accused with narrowed eyes of my own.
“Well, I wasn’t really following you.”
“You were walking behind me, but you left before I did.”
“True, but I had actually turned back to Ed Scott’s because I was going to ask you out on a date. Now you owe me one. So, this all kind of worked out.”
“Well, I’m not so sure…”
“How about this. Drinks now, or dinner another night.”
“Jack, I –”
“Would love drinks now? Terrific,” he inserted, effectively cutting me off.
“Oh, no, it can’t be now, I –”
“Dinner then. Excellent I know a –”
“Stop that!” I took the opportunity to interrupt him. I got the feeling from the look on his face that he was not often cut off. I continued, “Drinks – friendly drinks – would be nice, but right now I smell like steak and beer. I would love dinner, but a friendly dinner. I am a married woman, remember,” I explained, again waving my rings on my left hand at him.
“Okay, drinks – friendly drinks – and I think that the steak and beer only make you smell more delicious. If you’d rather not go to a public bar, come to my home. I live nearby.”
“Right,” I retorted, tilting my head and landing my hand on my hip, disbelieving.
“Seriously. A townhouse in the Murray Hill area,” he said holding a hand out to flag down a passing cab.
“I shouldn’t,” I protested as a cab stopped at the curb. “And if it’s so close, why do we need a cab?”
“Well, for starters, I have a bruised toe. And secondly, it’s late. One can never be too careful on the streets of New York.”
I considered the fright I had been delivered earlier.
“And you owe me, Beth, remember?” he continued.
“You’re practically a stranger,” I added as Jack opened the cab door and held a hand out for me.
“No, I know we know each other from somewhere. I’m going to figure it out,” he asserted, ushering me into the cab.
While he slid in next to me, I had to smile. I knew our connection. I knew his nick name. I knew his background. What would he think of me if he figured out who I was? I doubted he’d remember. After all, the last time he’d seen me was more than thirty years ago, and I was only about ten years old.
“Thirty-eight and Third,” he told the driver, then settled back into the seat. The warmth of his body alongside mind did odd things to me. Things I’d not felt in years. My stomach lurched with butterflies, my cheeks flushed with a burn that traveled down my neck and onto my chest, my nipples started to draw tight. He looked over at me and inhaled gently. “You smell delicious. I could just eat you up.”
My heart pounded and my breath grew shallow. I was stunned at his forward comment. And already aroused, his comment went straight to my core, making me clench my thighs together to relieve at least some of this mounting energy. This was wrong. This would mean that Greg was right. I was here for another man. No way.
Inhaling slowly to try and calm my body down, Jack’s scent had the reverse affect I was hoping for with my breath. I tried to peg the cologne but I couldn’t. I smelled bergamot and juniper. I smelled rosemary and rosewood. And a musky, woodsy scent. “What cologne do you wear?”
He smiled. “Do you like it?” I nodded.
Jack chuckled and stirred next to me reaching into his jacket’s inside breast pocket pulling out his phone. “So, dinner? What night looks good for you?”
“We’re doing drinks,” I stated.
“But you said you’d love dinner, a friendly dinner,” he said with a wink and a smirk. “I have a dinner meeting tomorrow but Wednesday works for me. How about you?” His eyes settled on me and I just stared at him. I watched the passing lights play on his strong features. His eyes were darker, and not just because we were sitting in a dark cab. There was something predatory and hungry in them. Not in a way that left me fearful, but in a way that had me yearning.
I don’t know why, but I pulled out my iPhone, tearing my eyes from his gaze, to look at the calendar app. My work schedule had me off all day on Tuesday, for which I was grateful. I was only doing the lunch shift on Wednesday. Do I let him know and make the date? No. I had to talk to Suzie first. I needed to know why ‘Jackass-Jack’ was such a jackass.
“Excellent. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“Wait, what?”
“I see you’re off at four on Wednesday. I’ll pick you up at seven. Surely you don’t need more than three hours to get home and ready? You’re much too beautiful to need lavish primping. Hell, I’d take you anywhere, just looking like this,” he said, reaching toward my face and drawing his finger down my jaw. His touch tingled and had me closing my eyes to block out the world.
He pulled the phone from my hands and tapped away at something. I should take my phone back, but I just couldn’t. What was going on with me? Why was I letting him walk all over me?
The cab suddenly stopped. Jack handed me my phone and then paid the cabbie. Shaking my head to clear the thoughts racing through my mind, I dumped my phone in my purse. Jack slipped out of the cab and extended me a hand. I slipped my hand into his and instantly regretted it. The fire that erupted between our hands told me that I was walking into danger. But I couldn’t stop.
Somehow I made it to Jack’s front door. Looking at the façade, it was unassuming. A simple looking townhome. The windows had nice shapes to them and the front door was a slick black with a beautiful brass knocker adorning the center of it. But otherwise, nothing out of this world. Jack slipped his key in and opened the door with a flourish.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” he announced.
Humble my ass! I thought stepping in as he guided me with his left hand on my lower back. An image of Kevin popped up in my mind, recalling his touch in the same place on my back. A place that was suddenly getting a lot of attention and was much mor
e sensitive.
I turned my attention to the massive entry. This place was beyond impressive. It was the type of home you’d see on some prime time drama. It reminded me of when Phoebe used to watch Gossip Girl.
Stepping into the opulent two story foyer with its black and white checkered floor, I nearly drooled at the curving carved wood staircase. In the center of the foyer sat a beautiful table with a hotel sized bouquet of seasonal flowers. Tucked into the greenery were yellow irises, white tulips and orange lilies. The art work on the walls were absolutely collectibles and included a Worhol, a Pollock and a Picasso. And judging from the surroundings, I didn’t think they were copies.
“Don’t just stand there,” he chided, and continued to guide me through to the living room just beyond the foyer. “Come on in. Make yourself comfortable.”
CHAPTER 10
The luxury of the entry was, as to be expected, continued into the living room. The ceilings were at least twelve feet high, and coffered trim work made them appear even higher. The room was extremely masculine, yet welcoming to women. Leather, suede, creams and browns of all shades, and accents of flowers all around, with hints of silver and mirrors. The windows, which were floor to ceiling, were adorned with chocolate brown and cream colored silk draperies that seductively played with the lighting. The room hugged you with a perfect balance of light and dark.
“What can I get you to drink?” Jack queried from the wet bar, off to the left of where I was standing, pulling me out of my inventory of the scrumptious room.
“Um, whatever you’re having,” I replied. Any alcohol would work right now. I needed something to bring me off of this ledge.
“Would you care for wine or something – harder?” I swallowed at the innuendo, my cheeks heating to a fever pitch. In fact, I was growing quite hot all over.
“Wine sounds terrific,” I choked out. His lips curled in wicked smirk and I couldn’t help but wonder what those lips would feel like on mine. Were they soft? Were they as commanding as his every word? Why was I here? I should have just gone home like a good girl.
Ditching The Dream (Dream Series) Page 8