“Oh. I thought you meant,” Michele said, then let her voice trail off as she blushed.
He had meant that, but he didn’t intend to share details of his sex life with Davis’ sister. What a man did behind closed doors, or in a town car, or in a bar in the West Village – he shifted uncomfortably, recalling Julia’s stoic orgasm at The Red Line as he worked her over under the bar – was between the man and the woman. Only the woman he wanted had run; she didn’t want his business. “But the next morning, she was out of here like a bat out of hell. So tell me, Michele. Tell me, my wise little shrink. What am I missing? Is she secretly craving me and can’t figure out how to tell me?” he asked, laying it on the line as he ached for an explanation. “Cause I fucking miss her, and I want her in my life. Did I miss a cue from her? Fuck something up? Is there something I should be doing”
Michele didn’t answer right away. She reached for her glass and took a long drink. After she set it down, she looked straight at him, her dark brown eyes both intense and caring. “I’m going to be blunt. I’m going to be direct, and talk to you like I would talk to one of my patients. And here’s the thing, Clay,” she said, reaching out to place her hand on his thigh. “That’s not how a woman behaves when she likes a man.”
His shoulders sank and he sighed heavily. “Yeah?”
She nodded. “She’s history. I hate to say it, because clearly you have it bad for her, but she ran. Maybe there’s something in her life that’s tying her down. Maybe she has some deep dark past. Maybe she’s secretly married and really only could manage one weekend with you. But if she truly had a great time with you and truly was open to dating long distance like she claimed, then she’d have called you when her flight landed. She’d have texted you. She’d be, I don’t know,” Michele said, forcing out a laugh, “Sending you naughty pictures.”
Clay winced, and his dick rose to attention at the thought of a naughty picture of Julia appearing on his home screen. Maybe a shot of her topless, of those full luscious breasts that he longed to lick and kiss and squeeze. Or that ass, so round and sexy, and calling out for a spanking. In his mind, he could hear the sound of his palm smacking her ass, the sharp slap, and the surprised oh that would fall from her lips. Followed by a moan. She liked spankings. He was pissed that he hadn’t had the chance to smack her ass more than once.
He wanted to slam his fist against the bar. “So the lack of naughty shots on my phone is the surest sign that this woman is history,” he said through tight lips, barely wanting to acknowledge the cold hard truth Michele was laying out for him.
She flashed him a sympathetic smile. “Yes, Clay. She’s history. When a woman wants to be with a man, she makes the effort to see him, to call him, to spend time with him. Just as he does with her. She aspires to be honest and upfront. To share her heart. Besides, that’s what you deserve,” she said, and squeezed his arm.
For a second there, it felt as if she lingered on his bicep. But maybe it was the booze making his mind fuzzy. Which reminded him – he needed another drink.
By the time he left, he was pretty damn sure he was buzzed. Walking to the subway stop two blocks away, he changed that assessment as the cabs and cars and lights around him grew fuzzier. He wasn’t buzzed. He was drunk. So drunk, he saw no reason why he shouldn’t text her as he headed down the steps to the platform, reaching for his phone from his pocket, missing it the first time. He nearly stumbled onto the subway car, as his fingers flew across the screen.
I can’t stop thinking about you.
He hit send, then cursed himself, wished he could take it back. He was going to get nothing in return from Julia and that would only make her exit burn more.
When he emerged on Christopher Street, he hoped that maybe the gods of drunk texting were looking out for him. That perhaps there’d been no signal underground, and he’d be saved from his own stupid desires for her.
But there it was – in his sent messages, mocking his traitorous heart.
Chapter Fifteen
Julia brushed some sugar crystals along the rim of a martini glass, and handed her signature cocktail to a woman in a standard, boring, black business suit who’d wandered in a few minutes ago rolling a large black case on wheels – the kind that was usually full of pharmaceuticals. Julia guessed she was a sales rep for one of the big drug companies and had been pitching docs all day with little success. The woman, quite simply, looked worn down.
She sighed heavily, resting her chin in her palm. Julia felt for her, without even knowing her woes. Life could be a cruel mistress. Sometimes the days wrung you dry. The nights did too, those lonely nights when all she wanted was a note, a moment, a sweet reminder that she wasn’t woman against the world, tackling everything solo.
“Enjoy,” Julia said, sliding the purple snow globe in front of the woman. “I hope it makes the day a little better.”
The woman flashed a smile. “You have no idea how much I need this.”
“This one is my specialty, but if it doesn’t fit the bill, you let me know and I’ll mix up something else for you instead.”
The woman took her first sip, and her tired eyes lit up. Julia swore a switch had been flipped and they’d gone from muted to bright blue. “This is divine.”
She smiled. “I’m glad you like it,” she said, and for now, this was enough to make Julia’s shit week a bit better. She might not have won her game, she might have lost her man, but at least she could do one thing right – mix a drink, and lift the spirits temporarily of the weary.
She moved to the tap, filling a pale ale for a regular customer, a skinny guy who always stopped by after work. She liked him; he’d never once tried to hit on her. He was only here for the drinks. “The usual,” she said, handing him the glass. He doffed an imaginary hat, and took his first swallow. She gathered up tips from other patrons and returned to the register, tucking some bills in the drawer.
“Can I pretty please have your most special, awesomest diet coke?”
Julia grinned widely, and turned around to see her favorite person ever. Her sister McKenna, decked out in a vintage emerald green dress with a white petticoat peeking out from the skirt’s hem. On her shoulders she wore a faux white fur cape – 100% pure retro fashionista. Next to her was her fiancé Chris, wearing a plaid button-down and jeans, dress-up attire for the most casual California surfer guy that he was. They were the happiest couple she knew, and yet another reason why Julia was never going to burst their bubble of bliss with her troubles. Seeing her sister happy was a singular joy, and she’d go to the ends of the earth to protect her sister’s heart from any more hurt.
“Always for you,” Julia said and leaned across the bar to give her big sister a hug. “And hello handsome,” she said to Chris, giving him a peck on the cheek.
“Hey, Julia. How’s business tonight?”
“Always good at Cubic Z,” she said, beaming and glad for the chance to talk about the bar business. She was proud of her tiny little patch of land in SoMa; yet another reason why she desperately wanted to get out from under Charlie’s thumb. She didn’t want him to take over this place. The thought of him running his illegal operations from her bar, threatening other patsies with his knife that wasn’t dangerous in and of itself, but symbolized all he could do, made her stomach restless. He could turn it to rubble too, leaving her, Kim and Kim’s family high and dry. The thought curled her stomach. She poured McKenna a Diet Coke, then asked Chris for his poison.
“Whatever’s on tap,” he said, and she winced inside at the words. Granted, she heard that phrase a few times a night, but it reminded her of Clay, of what he’d said the first night they met here. After she handed Chris his glass, she looked from McKenna to her man and back. “What’s up with the fancy attire? You going to a ball or something?”
Chris smiled and shook his head. “Nope, but my network is having some shindig to celebrate our record-high ratings, so this is me dressing up,” he said, fingering the collar of his shirt.
“
You clean up mighty fine,” she said, and once again her mind wandered back to Clay, to how delicious he looked in everything and nothing. She loved his sharp style, his power ties and crisp shirts, the cuffs and how he rolled them up revealing those forearms, so thick and strong.
A sharp pang of longing lodged in her chest. She wasn’t only yearning for his arms; she was longing for the whole man, inside and out, from the way he held her to how he talked to her. He always wanted to know more about her, and she felt one hundred percent the same about him. He fascinated her, with his mix of down and dirty, loving and tender. Though it seemed insane to miss someone she’d only spent a few nights with, she’d never met anyone like him who captivated her mind and her body.
She shook her head, as if she could shake off thoughts of him. She reached for the tap to pour a beer for another customer.
“Speaking of record ratings,” McKenna began in that voice that hinted at something up her sleeve, “Chris is about to renegotiate his contract, and is looking for a new lawyer, so I was thinking about your guy…”
Julia’s hand froze on the tap and the beer started to overflow the glass.
Your guy. Oh, how she wanted him to be her guy, and all that title allowed – the nights, the days, the moments, the tangling up in each other’s arms.
“Oh crap,” she said when she realized the liquid had frothed over. Grabbing a towel, she wiped down the side of the glass, cleaned it up and handed it to a customer.
“What do you think about that?” McKenna asked when she returned.
“He’s pretty kickass at his job, right?” Chris said, chiming in. “I was talking to my sister the other day and she said he’s worked out all kinds of perks for Davis.”
Julia straightened her spine. “I don’t have any business dealings with him, but from what I’ve heard his clients rave about him.”
“Can you do an intro or something? Or do you want us to ask Jill to ask Davis?” McKenna asked, then something flashed in her eyes. Realization, maybe. Julia had been home from her trip for more than ten days and hadn’t said much about it to McKenna, other than a few texts that it went well, and she was home and busy, busy, busy. She hadn’t told her sister that she’d bolted. Her sister leaned across the bar and narrowed her eyes. “Are you still into him?”
She was about to fashion an answer when she heard a customer call out. “Oh excuse me!” The woman in the suit waggled her fingers.
Julia walked over to her. “How was it?”
The woman tapped the glass. “Never had anything like it. It’s amazing.”
“I’m so glad you liked it.”
“Listen. I have a friend – his name is Glen Mills – whose magazine is running a search for the best cocktail ever,” the woman continued. “I’m going to tell him about this.”
“That’d be nice of you,” she said, though she knew patrons said stuff like this all the time, so she didn’t put any stock in it. No more, at least, than simple pride in a job well done.
“What’s your name?”
“Julia,” she told her, as the woman handed her a twenty.
“Keep the change, Julia.”
Then she left, rolling her bag on the way out, only this time her pace was upbeat and energetic. Julia returned to her sister, eager to avoid any more talk of Clay. She didn’t need to feel that empty ache for him all evening, especially since she was sure to feel it all night long alone in her bed. “Hey, it’s about to get crowded here.”
“So can you do an intro to Clay?” McKenna asked again, and clearly Julia wasn’t going to be able to ignore this request.
She mulled over the question. She’d been trying to steer clear of temptation, locking her phone in a kitchen drawer in the evenings when she felt the desire to text him or call, going for a run in the mornings to try to clear her mind. But neither tactic kept him from occupying the prime corner lot in her brain. She’d been dreaming of him every night. The very mention of his name brought a flush to her skin, and heat between her legs. It had been a while; she hadn’t even touched herself since she’d left. If she did, she’d only picture him and that wouldn’t help put him out of her mind.
Maybe, just maybe, a brief email for her sister would satiate this longing inside her, and quench her thirst for him. Sort of like a phased withdrawal. One tiny taste and then she’d be done.
“I’ll take care of it for you,” she said, and something inside of her dared to spark. At least she had a reason to reach out to him, and she tried not to get too excited about the prospect of sending him a note, but she couldn’t help it – she was excited. “Now, can we talk about something besides business please? Like your wedding. That’s what I most want to talk about. I can barely wait another month to see my big sister walking down the aisle.”
The two of them beamed, Chris and McKenna matching each other in sheer wattage of their smiles. He dropped a quick kiss on her cheek, and she threw her arms around his neck, and Julia was happy for the way her sister could be free with the man she cared for.
“So we’re going to have karaoke as you know,” McKenna said and began rattling off all the details, and though Julia knew most of them already since she was maid of honor, she didn’t mind hearing them again. Her sister’s happiness brought a smile to her face, so she listened as McKenna updated her on all their wedding plans, and she too was counting down the days til the two of them got hitched.
*****
Later that night, as the crowds wound down she reached for her phone to call him when she saw Clay had texted her. Her eyes widened, lighting up with anticipation. With hopeful fingers, she slid open the message.
I can’t stop thinking about you.
Her heart thrummed hard against her chest as she savored the words, each one like decadent chocolate. She clutched the phone to her chest, as if that simple act would bring him closer. She walked into the back room, needing a moment alone with his text. She closed the door behind her, leaned against it and stared like a lovestruck idiot at the screen again, running her fingertip across his message.
She cycled through her options. She could pretend she never saw it. She could delete it. She could keep on ignoring him. But the very thought of that felt like thorns twisting in her gut. She’d been in a funk since she’d left New York. A real ball of piss. She’d slept badly, she’d been sullen when she went for her morning run, and she could barely focus on the book she’d been reading at bedtime. Her thoughts careened back to him. A reply might unwind some of the tension knitting its way through her body.
Though she knew the risks, she became convinced with each passing second that answering his message wasn’t dangerous. It was simply answering a message. Sometimes a cigar was just a cigar.
The very least she could do was write back.
Would love to know what you’re thinking about…
Only later did she remember she’d forgotten all about McKenna’s request for an introduction. So much the better. Another reason to be back in touch.
By the way, my sister’s fiancé wants to talk to you about working together. I’ll send you his info. Though I still want to know what you’re thinking about.
She paused, her thumbs hovering over her smartphone. Then, she added, just so there’d be no misunderstanding, about her intent – xoxo.
Chapter Sixteen
from: [email protected]
to: [email protected]
date: April 16, 10:48 AM
subject: What I’m thinking about…
Everything. Your hair. Your ass. Your beautiful breasts. Your lips. You curled up in my bed. Your attitude. Most of all, why the fuck you left like that.
from: [email protected]
to: [email protected]
date: April 16, 11:08 AM
subject: The other thoughts please
Something came up. Can we go back to those other items instead?
from: [email protected]
to:[email protected]
date: April
16, 5:48 PM
subject: Not sure…
I don’t know. Can we?
from: [email protected]
to: [email protected]
date: April 16, 11:48 PM
subject: Be sure…
You tell me.
from: [email protected]
to: [email protected]
date: April 17, 6:48 AM
subject: Ball. In. Your. Court.
You tell me what you’re wearing. You tell me if you can’t stop thinking about me. You tell me why you’re not here spread across my lap, that beautiful ass calling out for my palm.
from: [email protected]
to: [email protected]
date: April 17, 9:48 AM
subject: Served
So you’re saying you want to spank me?
from: [email protected]
to: [email protected]
date: April 17, 3:48 PM
subject: Hand is ready
You have no idea.
from: [email protected]
to: [email protected]
date: April 17, 3:49 PM
subject:Ass is too
Oh, I have an idea. I definitely have an idea. And I would like that very much. I also think you have a thing for my ass.
from: [email protected]
to: [email protected]
date: April 17, 11:48 PM
subject: More on that
It’s perfection. I want to bite it. Lick it. Smack it. Grip it hard while I fuck you.
Night After Night Page 11