Perfect Plans

by C. J. Wells

  “Are you happy with the flat?” he asks, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, almost nervously.

  “It’s great. Thank you again for thinking of me. I wouldn’t have found it if it weren’t for you”.

  “It’s my pleasure”.

  That’s it? That’s all he wants to say?

  Seconds pass in silence.

  He’s shuffling around on the sidewalk, looking everywhere but at me.

  What’s the matter with him?

  “Have dinner with me tonight”.

  What? Hold the phone. Have dinner with Alexander Tate? This can’t be happening. The events in the last forty eight hours have been insane. Dream-like. Again, the man has rendered me absolutely speechless.

  “Please. I need to see you again”.

  I want so badly to say yes. It’s sitting on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t get it out.

  I can’t have dinner with this man. I can’t pretend that he’s anyone other than the famous actor that he is. As much as I want to. It’s depressing. I’m going to turn this man down. Not because I want to, but because I should. I can’t fall for him. I won’t fall for him. He will simply break my heart.

  “It may sound crazy, but I think you feel this - whatever this is - too”, his hands gesture back and forth between us.

  Damn straight I feel something for him. I feel hot, and needy, and uncontrollably nervous. I feel euphoric and dazed. I feel wanton. He inspires a sexual need in me so deep that I would do just about anything for him. To him.

  Yet, I won’t.

  I can’t deny what a bad idea it is to see him again. I’m not strong enough to pick myself back up after he’s gone. I’ve had too much heartache already and a new one is not part of my plans.

  “Alex , I…”

  Abruptly stepping closer, he cups my cheek in his hand.

  My breath hitches instantly; my denial lodging in my throat.

  “Say yes”, he whispers, staring deeply into my eyes.

  Oh God… Am I crazy to say no? Will I regret this? Of course I will! But, I have to.

  Covering his hand with mine, I slowly pull it away from my face. “I’m sorry. I want to say yes, but I just… I just can’t”.

  “Please. Give me one night. Just one”. Flashing me his mega-watt smile, he takes my hand, squeezing it gently.

  One night. Of course he only wants one night. I’ve known it all along, and that’s exactly why I’m saying no. “I’m sorry, I can’t. Stacey is leaving in the morning and it’s my last night with her”.

  “Ok, tomorrow then”.

  “I just don’t know”, I stare down at my feet.

  I know if I look him in the eye, I’m a goner. His persistence - however flattering - is making it even harder for me to deny him.

  It’s beyond surreal that I have one of the most famous men in the world asking me out on a date. Well, I assume it’s a date. Or a prelude to him getting laid. And I plan on saying no. I need to say no. I’m no match for this man. No matter how damn sexy he is. I need to be strong.

  Jeez, grow some balls and go out with him! - even my inner actress is beguiled.

  “Ready to go?” Stacey interrupts before Alex can rebut.

  Looking towards her as she leans on the opened door of the taxi, I thank the heavens above for her prompt rescue from this incredible trial of strength.

  Mustering courage, I look back into his eyes. “Goodbye, Alex. Thank you for… for everything”, I offer a small smile before making my way towards the cab.

  Shouting a quick good-bye, Stacey slides inside; I lean down to make my way in behind her.

  “Aby”, he calls.

  Standing back up, resting my arm leisurely on the door, I turn to him one final time.

  “Just think about it?”

  I take in his final plea, unable to resist his mesmerizing blue eyes. “Ok… I’ll think about it”, I surrender.

  With a final smile, I sit in the taxi, watching his triumphant expression as we pull away.

  Oh, what have I gotten myself into?

  ~

  Tummies full with room service filet mignon, we lounge on the bed adorned in pajamas watching Notting Hill.

  “Exactly how long do you plan on gawking at that magazine?” Stacey questions as I flip through the Glamour UK I’d purchased on our way back.

  “What?” I ask, feigning innocence, “I haven’t read all the articles yet”.

  “Whatever. You’re spending more time staring at that damn magazine than you are watching the movie. Is the irony of the storyline too much? And don’t even try to tell me you bought it for any other reason than Alexander Tate’s face taking up the entire cover. You haven’t even looked at any pages other than the ones he’s on”, she notes, grabbing it. “Jesus, the man is seriously hot. It’s no wonder they chose him as the Sexiest Man”.

  “I know. It’s amazing that he looks just as good in person. If not better”.

  “Well, honey, treasure this mag cause it’s the closest you’re ever gonna to get to seeing him again. Silly, silly girl. You’ve added another one to the ‘what the hell were you thinking list”, she hands it back to me. “I’m actually surprised the pages haven’t fallen out with the amount of times you’ve turned them back and forth”.

  Releasing a sigh, I attempt to ignore her depressing comments and lean back on the pillow to continue ogling my new favorite obsession - Alex Tate’s face; the last thing I remember before succumbing to sleep, magazine resting on my chest.

  CHAPTER

  FOUR

  My heart broke a little seeing Stacey go this morning. Adamant that I not cab with her to the airport, only to cab back on my own, she forced me to say my goodbyes in our room - which I was grateful for in the end given the waterworks that commenced the minute she walked out the door. How embarrassing it would have been to break down in the middle of the airport.

  I know it won’t be long before I see her again, but it still hurts. Though she reassured me that she’d be back in a month or so, it seems so far away. Spending the entire week together had been incredibly comforting. When she left, the loneliness hit me like a ton of bricks. What had seemed like simply a mini-vacation with my best friend, now feels like the real life permanency it was meant to be. It had been a wonderful, though brief, distraction from the life altering decision to move here.

  To make matters worse, my lonesome now leaves me with lingering thoughts of Alex and his parting words. He needs to see me again. He just wants one night.

  Ugh. What’s the matter with me?

  Thank God I didn’t share the conversation with Stacey. This decision needs to be my own.

  My much-needed late morning coffee in Shepherd Market helped a little - my excitement over moving into my new flat kicked in, effectively shielding my sadness over Stacey’s departure. I enjoyed my relaxing moments at the café imagining all the places we can visit when she returns next month. Of course, she’ll stay with me versus at the hotel.

  But, unfortunately, the memories of my new flat begrudgingly include memories of Alex.

  I’m still blown away that I sent him packing not once, but twice now. Seriously, I am without doubt a loony-bird.

  Would it be so bad to just sleep with him? To cave, and give him the ‘one night’ he asked for? No it wouldn’t. Why didn’t I have this revelation yesterday?

  With my favorite book in hand, I make my way back into the hotel. Most of the staff are used to seeing me pass through, absorbed in some book or another. It’s only been a week, but I’ve become accustomed to the familiar faces behind the desk. They don’t bother to say ‘hi’ anymore, instead simply present me with a smile, leaving me to my solace.

  I’m getting comfortable here. It’s unfortunate that I’ll have to check out at the end of the week, given Stacey was only able to secure me an additional five days at a discounted rate. I shudder to think of the affordable hotel that I’ll relocate to.

  Engrossed in my novel, I press the elevator butto
n, subconsciously awaiting the ding that will announce its arrival to take me to my lonely hotel room. A room that’s not occupied by Stacey - or Alexander Tate. What a sad, sad day, I shake my head, attempting to escape back into the steamy pages.

  “Aby”.

  Tearing my gaze from my book, I stare shocked into the eyes of the man who has occupied my every waking thought - Alex, in the flesh, standing before me.

  He’s clad in unbelievably sexy, loose fitting jeans and a white V-neck t-shirt, with a dark blue baseball cap pulled low over his stunning blue eyes; eyes filled with warmth as he flashes me a bright smile.

  “Good book?”

  “Um… yeah. What are you doing here?” I can’t disguise the surprise in my voice.

  “Courier at your service, Miss Ryan”, he bows regally in jest, “I have the sublet papers”.

  I’ve become mute all over again, standing before this gorgeous creature; hearing his words but unable to find my own.

  With a slight cock of his head, his smile widens, “The sublet papers from Amira. She told you she would send them here to your hotel”.

  And she uses the Sexy-as-shit Actors Courier Service? - my inner dreamer bounces in excitement, snapping me back to planet earth.

  “Yes… Of course”, I begin, a little less confidently then I would like. “The sublet papers. Yes, she did say that she would courier them… here… to me”. Right. He’s not just here to see me. Of course he isn’t. And, yup, now I’m babbling.

  “I thought I’d take advantage of her offer and deliver them myself”.

  “But… how did you know I’d be here?” I stare bewildered at his wanting to make the delivery, and the notion that I could have missed him.

  “Well, I didn’t”, he replies, somewhat shyly. “I had the front desk call up to your room, but when there was no answer, I thought I would sit and wait for you”.

  He waited for me? “How long have you been here?”

  “Well, about… an hour”, he replies, shuffling his feet a little.

  He waited here for an hour for me?

  I have no words. What must this man think of me? Every time I’m in his presence I become a speechless idiot. A tongue-tied, trembling ball of desire. Oh, what this man makes me want to do with my tongue…

  My subsequent visual of his tongue all over my body creates a sudden heated tingling throughout my core.

  His tongue and a sexy tie, now there’s a hot visual - my inner actress jumps in.

  Oh, good lord. I really need to take a break from these damn erotic novels. I quickly stuff my steamy book in my satchel.

  “Well, more like skulked in the corner to avoid notice, but yes, about an hour”, he adds, interrupting my internal monologue.

  Wide eyed, I stand motionless, lost in his dazzling baby blues.

  Moments pass in silence as he searches my eyes, “I hope my being here is ok?”

  I note the cute look of vulnerability dawning his face.

  Ok? That’s a slight understatement. It’s more than ok. “Of course. It’s fine”, I mumble through an awkward smile, “I just wasn’t expecting to see you… here… today”.

  “So, you were expecting to see me another day?” he retorts, his playfulness returned.

  Expecting… No, not at all. Wanting? Oh yes.

  “Well, I did agree to think about it”, I smile; I can’t help myself, his playfulness is quite charming - though I’m sure my crazed awe is written all over my face.

  “That you did”, he smiles. “There’s a café here in the hotel, would you like to get something to drink?”

  “Umm… sure”, I manage in my heated reverie. Why don’t we go to the gift shop and pick up a nice tie too?

  This is it. My one last chance. My do-over. Alex has handed it to me on a silver platter, though why, I can’t quite wrap my head around. Perhaps he’s not used to having someone say no to him? Well, I didn’t quite say no; I said I’d think about it. And think about it I have. Day and night. I’ve thought endlessly about what a crazy fool I was to walk away from him, tortured by equally endless conjured sexual escapades starring the man himself. How did I manage to walk away? Momentary insanity, clearly.

  I’ve spent so many years lost in a life that wasn’t meant to be mine, my needs and desires absorbed in my own imagined fantasy, or some authors’ creative sex-filled utopia. Maybe that’s why I’ve been able to walk away from him - my subconscious’ clear reminder that this can’t be real - despite how much I want it to be.

  His damn good looks and shy gentlemanly behavior are making me want to rip his clothes off. He has an effect on me like no other man I’ve ever come across, in the real world at least. Well, real or otherwise, I can’t continue to fight this uncontrollable pull towards him. I feel like I need him right now more than I need air to breathe - whether this is the only opportunity I’ll have to see him again, I’m done fighting.

  Sliding his warm, and very large, masculine hand in mine, he walks us towards the hotel café, trying to keep his face hidden by the bill of his hat. He’s clearly concerned with being recognized. And that’s just fine. Better safe than sorry. I’d hate to cut this chance meeting short because of a fan-frenzy.

  Although… I could take him to my hotel room? Finally get my chance to do the inappropriate things to him that are currently floating around in my head.

  No, scratch that. It’s best we stay on neutral territory until I can feel him out. Particularly his intentions.

  Walking towards the back of the café, he finds us a cozy table for two secluded behind large potted greens. He seats me in my chair before taking his across the small table; his back to the mass of surrounding tables.

  My breath hitches as he takes my hand, holding it in his on the tabletop. His touch sends tingles shooting straight up my arm; my heartbeat thumping at an erratic pace as he gently strokes his thumb across my knuckles.

  Trying to appear casual, I peruse the surroundings. This is a charming café. I attempt to ignore what his intimate touch is doing to me, eying the seated guests enjoying their mid-day tea; internally wondering why I hadn’t come here for my requisite morning coffee.

  As I notice the waitress nearing our table, Alex follows the direction of my gaze; spying her approach, he abruptly turns his head in the opposite direction.

  “Would you mind ordering for me?” he whispers as she’s upon us, his tone barely audible.

  “Good afternoon, would you like to order something to drink while you browse the menu? Perhaps a cup of tea?”

  My gaze darts to Alex at his gentle squeeze of my hand. His inconspicuous headshake makes me giggle. He’s obviously trying to maintain his anonymity, and is not up for tea. At least I think that’s what he meant.

  “Hi”, I reply smiling, hoping to keep her focus. Although I now realize that I have no idea what it is that Alex would like to drink. Ugh. “Two hot chocolates?” The uncertainty of my order is obvious. Responding quickly to her questioning head tilt, I clarify, “Just hot chocolates, thank you”.

  “That sounds lovely”, she replies, not paying Alex any mind as she turns to walk away. I’m sure she would kick herself if she knew she just stood two feet away from a Hollywood heartthrob and didn’t even realize it.

  “Thank you. I don’t want to cut this short by being recognized. It might cause a little pandemonium. Interesting beverage choice, Miss Ryan”, his sparkling white smile shines brilliantly, instantly melting my heart. It’s ridiculous the feelings he evokes in me.

  “Well, I didn’t know what you wanted, so… You like hot chocolate?”

  With a quick nod of his head, my nervousness evaporates; until I register the continued leisurely glide of his thumb across the top of my hand, filling me with renewed butterflies.

  The waitress promptly returns with our mugs of steaming hot chocolate; leaving us to enjoy with a quick thank you.

  The succulent smell wafts up to my nose. It smells good, but not as good as Alex. Next best thing? Licking hot chocolate off
his delectable body…

  Jeez. Get a handle on yourself, Aby. These last few days filled with imaginary sex-capades with this man are getting the best of me.

  Looking back into his eyes, I swear he can tell exactly what I’m thinking. His probing baby blues are making me squirm in my seat.

  That’s twice he’s made me squirm, I realize in remembrance of the first night we met.

  I reluctantly pull my hand from his to pick up my hot chocolate, giving it a little blow before taking a quick sip. It tastes as delicious as it smells. I close my eyes in enjoyment, a little moan escaping my lips. Opening them, I find Alex’s previously probing gaze turned molten.

  I watch in awe as his tongue runs along his bottom lip, wetting it.

  You could cut the sexual tension between us with a knife.

  “So, you have those papers?” I ask, a little breathless.

  “Yes, of course”. He sits up slightly, pulling the folded papers out of his back pocket before handing them to me, “Here you are”.

  These papers were touching his ass. And now I’m holding them… I think that means I can now say I’ve touched Alexander Tate’s ass, I giggle to myself before recovering with an accepting smile. “Thanks”. I take a quick look; scanning them in a professional manner, as much as my thoughts - still lost to his ass - will allow.

  “So, did you have a chance to think about my request?” he asks, his strong hands idly holding his hot chocolate.

  Ok, this is my chance. After two days of a hellish back and forth struggle, filled with incredibly agonizing erotic imagery, I’m now beyond ready to accept his request. I simply can’t, in good conscience, walk away from him again. Especially when he’s being so persistent - not to mention, sexy as hell licking the foam off that bottom lip. I want to lick those lips…

  “Yes, I’ve thought about it”, I answer, trying my hardest to play it cool.

  “And, what did you decide?”

  “Yes. I’ll go to dinner with you”.

  “Splendid”, he flashes a triumphant smile. Such a British reply.

  Pulling my gaze away before I lose all motor skills, I turn back to the papers. “Thank you for delivering these. I’ll sign them and get them to Amira”.