Until Dawn

by Melinda Di Lorenzo

  I kept a couch in the office, and after years of using it as a place to crash, it had contoured to the length and shape of my body. I had a well-stocked mini fridge and a one-touch espresso maker. My desk was an antique I’d inherited from my grandfather, and a family photo—the only one I had—sat on top of it. I’d hung a map of the world on one wall, and pinned it with all the places I’d like to go, if I ever found the time. There was a mahogany shelf too, covered in mementoes from the places I had been, and where I’d like to go back. A jar of sand from Hawaii. A rock from Myrtle Beach, and a stolen pint glass from a pub in Ireland.

  I opened my eyes again, sweeping the boring old room with my gaze.

  No, I thought. This isn’t what I’d like to show Mia. I wouldn’t want her to think of me as the type of guy who copped out and hired some interior decorator to make things as “basic” as possible.

  I’d far rather have her lift the jar of sand while I told her about how I grabbed it during a storm on Kauai. I’d like to watch her fingers hold the glass, and ask her if it felt warm to her like it always did to me. I’d love to see her face as she opened the blinds and caught sight of the lights of Toronto. Maybe put my arms around her from behind and point out my favorite spots. Then turn her around and kiss her hard. Drop her to the couch and kiss her freckled face. Strip her down, and—

  “Holy hell,” I muttered as I clued in to just how much denial I was in.

  I did miss Mia. Every damned thing I’d done since leaving her house had been in the name of avoiding her, or of avoiding doing what had to be done in order to acquire Trinkets and Treasures. Physical distance and actual time weren’t going to be enough. I needed a bigger wedge. One I sure as hell wasn’t going to find at the bottom of a wine bottle.

  Drawing in the miniscule amount of willpower I seemed to have available, I dumped the last of the liquid joy down my sink. I placed a call to my driver while stepping into a crisp suit, and within forty minutes, I was breezing past a very confused Julie into my office.

  I hunkered down at my computer, scouring the internet for a means of getting what I wanted. I searched and searched. And somehow—thirtyish hours, a half a dozen calls, and lot of coffee later—I was back home and I had it. An in. The key. All I had to do was pull the trigger. Dial the number and confirm.

  A glance at the clock told me it was a little after eleven. That would make it a bit past eight in Vancouver. Friday night too. Not exactly business hours, but a true businessman would take the nighttime call anyway. Especially with the kind of money I was offering up.

  So what’s holding you back?

  I knew the answer, of course. My favorite redhead, and the question that had been hovering around the edges of my mind since her cool send-off. The one I’d been too pissed to think about closely.

  Why did she go out of her way to tell me she hadn’t wanted me there?

  I was already on my way out. We’d made our agreement, and I was a man of my word. If she knew nothing else about what kind of person I was, that much had to be obvious. So why bother?

  Unless she needed a wedge too. Something to keep her feelings at bay.

  Hadn’t she said it was better to end on a fighting note? It sure as hell felt more like a breakup than if we’d just parted ways. So maybe that cool dismissal wasn’t quite as easy for her as I’d assumed. Maybe she wanted a reason to be mad at me.

  Without being conscious of the fact that I was doing it until Mia’s name was right in front of me, I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my contacts. I’d snagged her number from her phone during my morning coffee. Saved it in my address book and added mine to hers. In my head, I’d excused it as a sneaky business maneuver. Staring down at the phone, I knew better. I’d stored it just so I could contact her if I wanted to. Now I did want to. Badly. And I hit the call button before I could stop myself.

  * * * *

  Mia

  I wrinkled my nose and took a sip of my too-sweet cocktail, then asked myself for the hundredth time why I’d agreed to come out to the club with Liv, Aysia, and a couple of the other girls from their office at Eco-Go.

  Maybe I’d been a little too caught up in the exuberance of the other guests at the wedding shower earlier in the evening. Or maybe I just hadn’t wanted to be accused of being evasive again. Either way, I was now stuck inside the ever-loving hell of bass-filled beats and gyrating hips and watered-down booze.

  The only thing keeping me sane was the fact that we’d managed to score a table at the far end of the bar where it was quiet enough that my head didn’t want to explode. I’d also volunteered for purse guard duty, so I had an easy excuse to avoid the dance floor.

  So far, so good, I thought, taking another sip just as Liv appeared at the table.

  “Hey!” she greeted, plopping herself down beside me, out of breath and flushed. “Did you see that guy in the gold shirt?”

  “Every person in here saw the guy in the gold shirt,” I replied dryly.

  She laughed. “Yeah. Well. Not anymore. He just got busted for some hanky-panky in the bathroom! Two bouncers dragged him out with his pants around his ankles.”

  I groaned. “And this amuses you?”

  “To no end.” She grabbed my drink from my hands and took a giant gulp. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said with an eye roll.

  “Hey. I was thinking…”

  “Oh, great. Should I run?”

  “No. Well. Maybe.”

  I snorted. “Tell me what you were thinking.”

  She grinned a Cheshire-cat grin. “That tonight would be a good night to follow up on that dare.”

  My heart flipped in my chest. I still hadn’t mentioned a word about Ethan. In fact, I’d been surprisingly successful at avoiding thoughts of him. Which could’ve had something to do with completely exhausting myself to the point of delirium.

  After the final dress fitting on Wednesday, I’d let Liv drag me all over Vancouver in search of shoes, then allowed myself to be roped into some late-night dinner thing that kept me out until one in the morning. One of my part-time employees called in sick on Thursday, so I jumped at the chance to cover her storefront shift. Then I’d hung around until the wee hours working on some new designs. On five hours of sleep, I headed in for my regular workday that morning. When that was over, I’d then occupied myself with the bridal shower, and now the club.

  Sure, Ethan pervaded my dreams. And sure, if I held still for too long, his face popped into my mind. But all in all, I’d done an okay job of not thinking about him. But at the mention of the dare—something I’d cleverly diverted from on Wednesday, and which Liv hadn’t brought up again until now—my heart stuttered in my chest, and thoughts of his soft lips filled my head. And with his soft lips came his warm, strong hands and the feel of his fingers and palms playing over my body.

  “What about him?” Liv said, interrupting the blush-worthy memory as she pointed across the bar.

  I made myself answer lightly. “If I look over there and see gold-shirt guy…”

  “I told you he got kicked out.”

  “Gold shirt guy is sneaky.”

  “Yeah. Gold sparkles are totally subtle.” Liv pointed again. “But I’m looking at him. Blue shirt, dark denim jeans. Hot bod. Looking our way.”

  “He’s looking our way because you’re flapping your arm at him,” I told her. “He probably thinks you need medical attention.”

  “Ooh. You think he’s a doctor?”

  “I think doctors don’t hit dollar highball night at a club with the nickname Sticky Floors.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.” Her face fell, then perked up again immediately. “But it doesn’t matter what he does. You’re not marrying him. You’re just kissing him.”

  I made a face. “Wasn’t I supposed to kiss the next attractive guy I saw? Because that dare was almost a week a
go, and I think I’ve probably already crossed paths with one or two reasonably good-looking guys.”

  “See…I don’t know what to do with that statement. There’s too many options. Do I point out that if that’s true, then you’ve already failed in completing the dare? Or do I ask how someone can only think they’ve crossed paths with some hot guys?”

  “Neither?”

  “Oh, please. You know me better than that. I want to say both.”

  “Fine,” I said. “I’ve been far too busy to give a man more than a passing glance, let alone haul off and kiss one at random. So you win. I lose.”

  “Yes!” Liv crowed. “But you’ve forgotten the other part of the game.”

  “Which is…?”

  “If you don’t do the dare, you have to answer the truth question.”

  “You can’t be serious. What could you possibly want to know?”

  “Just one thing,” she said shrewdly. “Who’s E.?”

  This time, my heart didn’t just flip—it stopped. And I had to resist an urge to cast a frantic look around the bar. “What?”

  Liv nodded at my phone, which was sticking just out of my purse. It flashed with a missed call, and sure enough, the contact was listed as E. I didn’t stop to think about how his number got in in there, I just grabbed the phone and shoved it facedown on the table in front of me.

  “E’s no one,” I said.

  “The same ‘no one’ who was emailing you the other day?” she asked.

  I exhaled a sigh. “As a matter of fact.”

  Liv narrowed her eyes at me. “Uh-uh.”

  “Uh-uh?” I repeated.

  “You only get one or the other. Truth. Or dare.”

  “I don’t remember agreeing to this.”

  “But you did. Or that’s the way I see it anyway.” She jumped up, then put her hands on her hips, and surveyed the bar. “Okay, I see him.”

  For a second, I thought she meant Ethan, and I swayed a little in my seat. Logically, I knew he wasn’t there. But I was momentarily light-headed with the idea that he might be. He could’ve flown in. He was still coming after Trinkets and Treasures, and his stalking skills were on point, so…

  But Liv has no idea what he looks like.

  The thought was enough to bring me to my senses. I took a breath, straightened my shoulders, and followed her gaze. I immediately spotted her target. Tall. Thin without being scrawny. Dressed in khakis and a black-on-black shirt and tie. A flop of dirty blond hair, and an easy smile directed toward the man standing with him. He was good looking, no doubt about it. But studying him did absolutely nothing for me. Not even a twinge of attraction.

  “Liv…” I said.

  “Oh, come on,” she replied, exasperated. “He’s exactly right for you. He’s cute. But totally nervous, and doesn’t want to be here.”

  “How can you tell that from way over here?”

  “He keeps tightening his hand on the glass he’s holding, and when he takes a sip—which he’s only done twice since I noticed him—he grimaces. He’s also subtly checked his watch four times. So he’s twice as interested in the time as in his highball.”

  “Maybe he’s got somewhere to be. Or he’s meeting someone.”

  She shot me a glare. “You’re being deliberately difficult, Lu, and I—”

  My phone cut her off as it buzzed to life on the table, its vibration sending it skittering over the polished wood surface. I shot out a hand to stop it from clattering to the ground. As soon as it was in my hand, I saw that “E.” was flashing across the screen again.

  “He’s a persistent ‘no one,’ isn’t he?” Liv asked.

  I sighed. “Look. He’s an asshole, okay? One of those guys who thinks he knows best just because he was born with a penis. You’d hate him. And I’m kind of tired of dealing with him myself. So he’s ‘no one’ because he’s no one I want anything to do with. And if he was here in person, I’d tell him to take his calls and shove them straight up his—what? Why are you making that face?”

  She pointed down at my phone, which I held out in her direction. And before my eyes could even shift to follow her finger, I knew what I would find. My heartbeat quickened unpleasantly, and the world around me tilted as I forced my gaze down.

  Call started, 0:52 seconds, read the screen.

  Shit.

  I knew I should slam the red key and end the call. Or maybe just drop the phone directly in my drink. Possibly run out of the bar before Liv could read something more in my horrified expression. But at that exact second, Aysia and her two friends came up to the table, drawing my fellow bridesmaid’s attention away for a moment. And instead of doing what I thought I should, I did what I knew I shouldn’t. I lifted the phone to my ear.

  “Hello?” My greeting was almost a squeak.

  Ethan’s reply—laced with a weird mix of coolness and amusement—came instantaneously. “Shove it straight up my what, Lu?”

  “I didn’t mean that.”

  “No, it’s fine. If you’re into kink, I can get onboard.”

  My face warmed, and I dropped my voice. “That wasn’t a sex thing!”

  “Oh, really?” he replied. “Because I generally so enjoy being called an asshole in the bedroom.”

  “I didn’t mean that, either.”

  “Didn’t mean it, or I wasn’t supposed to hear it?”

  “Just…hang on a sec, okay?”

  “I’ve got nothing but time.”

  I glanced up. Liv was still distracted, laughing at something Aysia was saying, so I decided to take quick advantage and slunk guiltily away before they could notice. For a moment my escape route got me stuck in a throng of drunken dancers, and the loud thump of music almost overwhelmed me. But I spotted a doorway across the bar, and quickly adjusted course. I managed to make it there without getting knocked over or stepped on too badly, but when I entered the space, I realized it was a strangely insulated alcove rather than an actual exit. It would have to do.

  “Ethan?” I said into the phone, suddenly worried that he might’ve hung up.

  “Still here, Mia,” he said.

  Hearing him answer filled me with relief.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “For which part?”

  “All of it. I was just trying to get Liv off my back. She basically epitomizes that whole dog-with-a-bone thing. Anyway, she dragged me to this club tonight, and she was going on about truth or dare, then found this guy who she thought would be perfect for me, and I didn’t want to tell her that I’d already kissed you. And she saw your number and the email, so…” I trailed off as I realized I was babbling kind of incoherently, while Ethan had gone utterly silent. “Hello?”

  “What guy?” he said.

  “Uh. What?”

  “You said your dare-happy friend found the perfect guy. In what way was he perfect?”

  I swallowed, not really wanting to answer, and not really knowing why. “Oh. For me to kiss.”

  “Yeah, I got that part.” His voice was a little stiff. “What I want to know is what made him perfect for you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I think you do know.”

  “I already told you the criteria,” I said miserably. “She dared me to kiss the next hot guy I came across.”

  “And is Mr. Right hot?” Ethan wanted to know.

  My eyes stung, and I felt inexplicably like I might cry, and when I answered, my words quavered a little. “He’s good looking, yes.”

  “So what are you going to do? Kiss him, or tell your friend the truth?”

  My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I wanted to tell him the truth. That it didn’t matter how good looking the guy was, I had no interest in kissing him. In fact, I had no interest in kissing anyone but Ethan.

  Which was ridiculous, because we’d had exac
tly two nights together.

  And humiliating, considering the fact that he wanted to forcibly take my business from me.

  But I couldn’t bring myself to lie.

  So I forced out a breath, hoping he couldn’t hear the tremor in my evasive reply. “Why are you calling me? Isn’t it close to midnight there?”

  There was the briefest pause on the other end.

  “I want that other two hours,” he said.

  “You want what?” I asked.

  “I asked you for twelve hours. I only had ten.”

  “Because you left early.”

  “My flight was changed. Out of my control.”

  “You can’t seriously expect me to give you another two hours of…” I trailed off, a blush heating my face.

  “Was it so bad?” His voice fell in timbre, and took on that sex-fueled quality that made me shiver.

  I leaned against the wall in the alcove, trying to cool the rush of blood through my body. But pressing my back to the thin panel had the opposite effect, because the pulse of music vibrated through and made my skin tingle instead.

  “You know it was good, Ethan,” I said. “But putting that aside—and the fact that we agreed that it was over—you’re there, and I’m here.”

  “I’m coming back.” His words sounded like a promise.

  When? I wanted to say. Make it soon.

  But I forced a more reasonable reply. “Yeah. Because you’re still trying to steal my company, and that’s easier to do if you’re here.”

  I waited. Maybe for him to deny it. Maybe for him to retract his threat to my livelihood. He didn’t do either.

  “Two hours,” he said again instead. “And in the meantime, don’t kiss Mr. Right.”

  My temper spiked unexpectedly, and my response came out defensive. “Why shouldn’t I?”

  “Is my asking not a good enough reason?”

  “Not even close.”

  “Lu…”

  “Mia.”

  “Don’t kiss him.”

  “You have no right to tell me what to do,” I snapped, hearing the childishness in my voice, but not caring at all. “I’ll kiss whomever I damned well please.”