by Lisa Suzanne
“What are you going to order?”
I glance up at him and find his eyes back on me. “I’m not sure. You?”
He sets his menu down. “The filet.”
I check the price next to filet mignon almost subconsciously. Seventy-two.
Seventy-two dollars for a steak. The last pair of shoes I bought wasn’t even that pricey and I’ve worn them nearly every day for two months.
I clear my throat and keep my eyes on the menu. As much as I want the ribeye, I can’t justify sixty-five dollars for one meal. “The mushroom risotto sounds good.” The number next to it is much smaller than nearly everything else on the menu.
“At a steakhouse?”
I lift a shoulder in embarrassment.
“Reese, it’s my treat,” he says gently. “Get whatever you want.”
I set my menu down and our server comes over to take our order.
“The ribeye,” I say. Brian nods proudly across the table at me as I tell the server how I want it prepared.
“And for you, sir?”
“I’ll have the mushroom risotto.”
I sit back in shock as my hand flies up to my chest.
He grins at me before returning his gaze to the server. “Just kidding. I’ll have the filet, medium rare.” He looks across the table at me. “And a side of mushroom risotto.”
“Yes, sir,” the server says before scampering off.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I say as I giggle at his little stunt.
He winks, and while some men do it and it comes off as creepy, when he does it, it comes off as cute. “You wanted the risotto. I didn’t want you to feel pressured into a steak. This way, you get both.”
I smile. “Thank you.”
An awkward beat of silence passes between us, so I fill the blank space with small talk. “So what brings you to Vegas?”
“My two best friends and I worked together for years for someone else. The three of us finally decided to work for ourselves.”
“What do you do?”
“We’re a tech company specializing in predictive analytics.”
“I know that much from Google. What does that mean?”
He chuckles. “Basically, we mine data and use statistics to predict trends. Our main focus is cybersecurity, but we’re in the process of acquiring several consultants with different areas of expertise.”
“You know how to do all that?”
He shrugs and grins. I ignore the little flutters in my belly as my eyes dart to his cocky smile.
“I don’t know how to do all that,” he admits. “But I know how to run a business.”
“So you’re the business guy?”
He nods. “My two friends are the IT developer and the creative visionary.”
“Sounds like a good team.”
“We like to think so.” He runs his fingers over the rim of his water glass, his eyes following the movement.
“Where did you move from?”
His eyes fall back on mine. “Chicago.”
“Why Vegas?” I’m asking too many questions, but I suddenly feel like I want to know everything about him.
He lifts a shoulder. “The excitement. The weather. The relative proximity to California. Plus it’s got the convention center and it’s a hub for all sorts of businesses.”
“The little glimpse I saw of your facility yesterday was nice.”
His fingers run along his water glass again, and my eyes dart down to them. A flash of what he could do to me with those fingers runs through my mind, and my cheeks heat. I force the thought away to focus on what he’s saying.
“Our space turned out to be pretty incredible. I’ve got a corner office with an unparalleled view, plus my two best friends work on either side of me.”
“And your secretary.”
“Kelsey’s great.”
“She’s gorgeous.” I’m playing with fire.
He shrugs. “Hadn’t noticed.”
He doesn’t even crack a smile when he says it, so I’m inclined to believe him, but he is a man and he does have eyes…not that it matters. I’m certainly not jealous of her or anything. I have no reason to be.
Our bottle of wine arrives.
“How long have you been teaching?” he asks once we’ve toasted to getting to know each other.
“Five years. I moved out here from Phoenix to attend UNLV and stayed after graduation.”
“I love Phoenix.”
I fiddle with the stem of my wine glass. “My parents and sister are still there.”
“But you’re here?”
“Sometimes the independence is nice.” I chuckle. “And my best friend moved out here with me.”
“She’s still here, too?”
“Yeah. We live together.”
We both hear his cell phone’s notification sound off in his pocket, but he ignores it. “Is your sister your only sibling?”
I nod. “Do you have any?”
“A sister and a brother.” He glances away for a flash of a second before his eyes return to mine. “Both older.”
We’re quiet for a few beats. I take an awkward sip of wine. It’s going well, this non-date of ours, but it’s still all that getting to know you chatter. He asks, “When are you out for the summer?”
“Today. I turned in my keys this morning.”
“Well,” he says, raising his glass, “let me be the first to say congratulations on another year in the books.”
I clink my glass against his. “Thank you.”
“What do you do over the summer?”
I lift a shoulder. “Sometimes I teach summer school. Not this year, though.”
“Man, I wish I had teachers that looked like you when I was in school.”
I giggle and pick up my wineglass—mostly to hide behind it. “Stop.” I take a sip.
“I’m serious. I went to a private school with all these stuffy old men as my teachers. I’d be staring all day if someone like you was at the front of the room.”
“Well it’s not like I wear this dress to school,” I mumble.
“Thank God for that. I don’t want some underage boy ogling you when it should be me.”
When it should be me? Is he serious?
“Wait a minute.” I narrow my eyes at him. “I thought this wasn’t a date.”
“Who said it’s a date?”
“You’re sitting over there getting awfully flirtatious for someone who’s not on a date.”
He holds up his hands innocently. “Hey, you’re the one who showed up looking like that. How am I supposed to sit over here and pretend I’m not attracted to you?”
I giggle as heat burns my cheeks. I take another sip of wine because surely that’ll help.
“Do you realize every time you get embarrassed, you take a drink?”
I shake my head. “No, I didn’t realize that, but thanks for pointing it out.”
Conversation flows easily between us once our dinners arrive. I tell him about my adventures in teaching and he talks about moving across the country.
“Tell me about your most embarrassing teacher moment,” he says.
“Oh, God. I probably have at least three a day. Just last month I was walking around the room while I was lecturing and I tripped over a wire. I fell right on my ass.”
He laughs.
“Now you tell me something embarrassing.”
“Public erections.” He says it without missing a beat.
I giggle, but my chest heats at the mention of his body. His confession feels oddly intimate. “Any and all?”
He nods in confirmation. “Any and all. Once I was running this important meeting and one snuck up on me for no reason right after I took off my suit jacket. I ended up standing behind a podium until it went away.”
“Oh my God! Can they really happen for no reason?”
“All the time.”
“How awful! Thank God no one can tell when I’m turned on.”
He raises a brow. “You
think no one can tell?”
“You think you can?”
“Oh, Reese, I know I can.”
I narrow my eyes. “How?”
“When I first saw you tonight, you were standing at the front of the restaurant. When you spotted me, your eyes widened. Boom—turned on. Then I leaned in close after getting nailed in the ribs.” My face heats at the memory. “I pressed my lips to your cheek. You turned all red, and boom—turned on. And to close the deal, I gave you my arm and you took it. Boom—turned on.”
My jaw hangs open just slightly. I must look like a fool, but he has me pegged. “How do you know I was turned on by all those things?”
“It’s the little things—the way you react to me. As a businessman, I’ve learned to study people. Wide eyes here, red cheeks there. You gripping my arm like you didn’t want me to get away. Even that little dig you made earlier about Kelsey. You think I didn’t notice, but I did. I just wasn’t going to point out all the ways until you asked.”
I hunch back into my chair uncomfortably. “I liked it better before you pointed them out. And how’d you become an expert on women?”
“I’d hardly call myself an expert,” he says with a chuckle. “But I do study people. My grandfather taught me a lot, but I also have a secret weapon. Want to know what it is?”
Those bright green eyes? The thick hair? The killer personality? What I can only assume is a giant member hiding beneath his pants that gets hard in public at random times? I raise both brows expectantly.
“My sister.”
“Your sister is your secret weapon?”
He nods. “She has trained me diligently on the art of how to treat women.”
“Did she mention that the first rule is to never reveal your secrets?”
He laughs. “She did, but I always went with the other cliché that honesty is the best policy.”
“Well if we were planning on anything beyond this one dinner, I’d tell you to thank her for me.”
He looks disappointed. “If?”
“Your condition was one dinner.”
“And you met the condition. I’ll cut the check tomorrow. But I’d like to take you out again—for a proper date, not a night that you agreed to because of conditions.”
As if on cue, I spot a man walking through the casino. From this distance, his backside looks exactly like Mark’s. My heart races and a lump thickens my throat.
The man turns around. It’s not him. I should’ve known. If it was him, surely he’d be surrounded by adoring fans.
My racing heart drops.
As much as I’m enjoying my time with Brian, I laid the ground rules. The non-Mark I just spotted is a stark reminder that I’m not ready. I’m still emotionally connected to someone else, and it wouldn’t be fair to Brian. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“This sounds familiar,” he mutters.
“I’m sorry, Brian. It’s just complicated.”
“All right, then. No date. But what about a few friends hanging out at Cosmopolitan on Friday?”
“Doing what?”
“Dancing, gambling if you want.”
“I don’t know.” It sounds like a date.
“Then let me sway you. I’ll bring two friends and you bring two friends. Food and drinks are on me. Money is no object.”
Money is no object. Do people say shit like that? It just seems so…patronizing. I let it go. “Just a group of friends.”
He nods. “Just friends.”
“Tell me a little about your friends so I know which of mine to bring.” I think of Jill and Tess, of course.
“Does it matter if we’re all just friends?”
I lift a shoulder. “I guess it doesn’t.” I stare down at my plate as I debate whether or not this is a good idea. Probably not, but my words are out before my thoughts finish processing. “Okay, Mr. Fox. You’ve got yourself a deal.”
He flashes his cocky smirk at me, and I have to admit that part of me wants him to kiss me even though I’ve been adamant that I’m here for nothing more than friendship.
He escorts me to the front of the restaurant much like he did when we first entered, and I slide my arm through his even though he pointed out that it turns me on. He’s right. I like being close to him. I like his dangerous scent that’s all man—amber and earthy and uniquely Brian Fox.
He turns toward me and leans forward as if he’s about to press his lips to mine. I stiffen.
Instead of kissing me, though, he speaks quietly, his lips inches from mine. “Can I ask what’s so complicated that you’re terrified I might kiss you?”
“I like you,” I whisper.
His lips tip up. “That’s a good thing. That’s how this is supposed to work.” I feel the heat of his breath against my lips as he moves fractionally closer to me.
“That’s why I can’t.”
“You like me so you can’t kiss me?”
I nod, and he’s standing so close to me that the infinitesimal movement of my head almost causes our lips to brush. I let out a soft gasp, and he closes his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly. To an onlooker, we’re a pair of lovebirds about to kiss outside a restaurant after a lovely evening. To me, though, it’s a night I certainly won’t forget anytime soon with someone I’m not ready to be more than friends with. “I know it doesn’t make sense. I just don’t want to use you to get over someone else.”
He backs away, disappointment evident in his eyes. “I understand. Let me walk you to your car.”
I nod. “Do you really understand?” I ask as we walk toward the valet stand.
“I do. I recently ended a long-term relationship.”
“Because of your move?” I glance up at his gorgeous face, currently twisted into a mask of unease.
He nods, his eyes focused ahead of us, refusing to meet mine. I wish I could catch his, to see if I can read his emotions even a little. “That was part of it.”
“Was there another part?”
“Of course.”
“Care to expand?” I know I’m prying, but I’m curious about this man I just met.
He chuckles. “If you’re going to dodge my questions about your complications, I’ll go ahead and reserve the same right.”
I shouldn’t feel hurt by that, but I do. I want him to open up to me, but I haven’t opened up to him. I’m not being fair.
I hand my ticket to the valet. Brian pulls out his wallet to pay my fee, but I hold up my hand. “You already treated me to an expensive meal. I’ll take care of the parking.”
“Nonsense,” he says, handing a few bills to the clerk before I even have the chance to unsnap my clutch.
I sigh. “You don’t have to do that.”
He slings his arm around my shoulder protectively. “I want to.” He brushes his lips gently against my temple, sending a rush of pressure right through my body and landing between my legs.
My Ford rolls up and disappointment spreads through me. “This is me,” I say.
He walks me to the driver’s seat, tipping the man who pulled my car around.
I move to get in the car, but Brian stops me with a hand on my arm. He pulls me close and laces his arms around me. His head comes down on my shoulder, taking me completely by surprise. I hardly know him, but I already know that whole idea of just friends is never going to work with us. There’s too much crackling sexual tension in the air.
“I want to kiss you.” His words are muffled by my hair, but I still hear them.
My eyes smart, so I close them. I want him to kiss me, too, but tonight was just supposed to be about fulfilling the condition of his donation to DLHS. It wasn’t supposed to be about feelings, about wanting more, about kissing each other.
“Not tonight,” I whisper. I like him. I don’t want to play games. But it’s only been a week since I found myself more emotionally connected to a rock star than I thought I’d be. I need time.
He presses a soft kiss to my shoulder and then pulls back.
He doesn’t look at me, doesn’t speak another word as he walks away from me and back into the hotel.
six
Pain pierces my skull much too early as the loud clanging of my phone wakes me.
Apparently, I forgot to turn off the alarm I keep set during the school year. After I arrived home last night, I downed a bottle of wine and whined to Jill that I should’ve kissed him, and then I went to bed alone.
Alone with my thoughts. Alone with images of Brian Fox as he sat across the dinner table from me. Alone with my memories of an unforgettable night.
My relationship with Brian presents an interesting dynamic. While I’ve worked hard to convince myself that I’m not ready to move on, this morning I wake full of regret—and not just because I drank too much wine last night.
When Brian went in for the kiss, I should’ve let him. I was stupid not to. Who knows if I’ll get another chance? I don’t know him well enough to know if he’s persistent, if he’s interested, or if he’s got twenty women waiting in the wings.
I try to fall back asleep after silencing my alarm, but it’s futile. I’m awake with my regrets.
I force myself out of bed and find Jill in the kitchen. She’s chugging coffee at our kitchen table much like I chugged wine last night as she scrolls the news on her tablet.
She looks as bad as I feel, but she has to go to work today. I, however, am officially on summer break. That means days by the pool, catching up on all the romance novels that have released over the past year since I’ve been reading student essays instead, and day drinking.
Responsible Teacher Reese is officially off duty for a few glorious weeks, and right now I’m officially declaring this Reese’s Summer of Sin in Sin City. Wholesome Reese is packed away with my lesson plans and it’s time for me to tap into my inner naughty girl. I know there’s one in there. There has to be—good, wholesome girls don’t do one-night stands. So I’ll dig deep and get her to come out and play in an effort to move forward from that one night.
“Morning,” she mutters.
“Hey,” I mutter back as I head straight for the ibuprofen and a tall glass of water.
“Why are you up so early?”
“I forgot to turn off my alarm.”
“Dork.”