I was still working on that plan of action when Peter, my boss back in London and the sole owner of our tech company, called.
“How’s it going over there with the Yanks?” he asked, amusement in his voice. “They get you drinking coffee yet?”
I rolled my eyes even though I know he couldn’t see it. Like the vast majority of Brits, we were both perpetual tea drinkers and always would be. “Get serious. About time your lazy ass called me back. I’ve only rung you ten times since this morning.”
Peter may have technically been my boss but he had always treated me more like his partner, rather than someone in his employ. He wasn’t that much older than me and we’d always sort of had a big brother-little brother relationship. Which was why I could give him a hard time and call him an ass and not get sacked for it.
“Oh, piss off,” was his witty retort. “You do realize that I’m five hours ahead of you and am at different work hours in the day than you, yeah?”
I laughed and proceeded to update him on everything that had happened with the business in the last twenty-four hours, which was apparently a lot since it took us nearly thirty minutes to get through it all.
“So, how is living with Mike?” he asked, changing the subject. “Still getting along?”
Peter’s cousin, Mike, conveniently lived in D.C. and had an extra bedroom available, so I didn’t have to worry about renting out my own place while I stayed here. Mike was also temporarily living in the U.S. to conduct research for his doctoral degree, but you would never know it of him. From his dress to his personality to his habits, one would think he was the biggest slacker in the history of mankind. You would never know the man was a bloody genius and on the rise to be one of the top minds in his field.
Apparently, he didn’t like to flaunt his brilliance and I had to respect him for that.
“Aside from the fact that his eating habits, and pretty much all of his other habits, are like those of a fourteen-year-old, it’s smashing.”
Not only did Mike have the world’s largest collection of junk food, but he also played video games like it was his job. I had absolutely no idea how he was able to stay in the shape that he was in with his sedentary lifestyle, not to mention find the time to conduct his research and work on his dissertation.
That was when I remembered that I was supposed to go have drinks with Mike when I left the office. I’d almost forgotten about it with the day I’d had. Mike tended to need breaks from his work and even the video games, and I needed a break from the monotony that was my job. So, we were slowly trying out all the pubs in the greater D.C. area.
I heard Peter’s chuckle over the line before he said, “Sounds about right.” He paused briefly and I knew what was coming. “Please tell me work isn’t the only thing you’re doing over there, Zane.”
And there it was.
Peter felt the need to comment on my love life, or lack thereof, more than anyone I knew. Even my own father didn’t badger me about it every chance he got like Peter. I wasn’t sure if it was because Peter had finally found love and got married and he wanted that for me too or if it something else.
“I’m not having this conversation again,” I grunted into the phone.
“I love you, mate, but do you realize how long it’s been since you’ve had a girlfriend? Your equipment is bloody likely to fall off if you don’t utilize it more often. I’m only speaking as a concerned friend here.”
It definitely hasn’t fallen off and it’s most definitely been utilized.
But I wasn’t going to tell him that. He’d ask far too many questions and I didn’t even know if I was going to see Bea again. Plus, it somehow felt wrong to divulge the details of our night together to anyone. For some inexplicable reason, I felt compelled to keep those to myself for now.
“I’m due back in London by December, Peter. The last thing I need right now is to get tangled up in a relationship.” I looked down at my watch and realized that I needed to pack up for the day if I wanted to meet Mike at the pub on time.
Peter sighed in frustration over the phone. “All I’m saying is that you need to sample more of America than just their beers. Even if it’s just a bit of snogging. Have some fun for once.”
Maybe I had been working a little too hard lately and maybe I was too serious at times but I had good reason to be. After my father’s accident at the factory years ago had put him on government assistance, he hadn’t been able to work and needed me to help with his finances. If he moved out of his house and into a smaller flat like he’d said he was going to do for years, he could probably afford to pay all of his bills himself. But I have insisted that he stay in the house he lived in with my mother before she died and the one I grew up in. Because he couldn’t cover all of the expenses of maintaining a house that size, I agreed to help and have been for the last several years.
I thought about what Peter said, though. He was probably right but I had fun three weekends ago. With Bea. The night I met her, I had planned on going home after I had dinner with a client. But instead, I’d decided I needed another drink and went to the club I’d heard some of the guys around the office talking about. At the time, I thought that blowing off some steam would do me good.
And blimey, did it ever.
“I’ll work on that. Tell Sara I said hello and give that little bundle a kiss for me.”
Peter married Sara last year after three years of dating on and off. They eventually figured out that they couldn’t live without each other and eloped one weekend without telling a soul. Nine months later, their daughter Annabelle was born.
I heard the smile in his voice when he replied, “I will. She laughed at me for the first time last night.”
I smiled, so glad for my friend’s happiness. “She’s got you wrapped around her finger. What are you going to do when she grows up and all the blokes come knocking on your door?” I asked, trying not to laugh.
He released some sort of growl and I did laugh this time, just imagining what his face looked like. “No wanker is getting within a hundred meters of her until she’s thirty.”
“Good luck eventually telling her that.” His response was a grunt.
“I’ll get in touch with you tomorrow,” I said, walking toward my office door.
Peter paused and then, “Don’t think I don’t know your game, Price. You brought up my girls to deter the conversation away from you finding one of your own. You’ll see, though. One of these days you will want to talk about it, and then you’re going to be thanking me for my valuable wisdom.”
“Don’t hold your breath, mate,” I said. “Cheers.”
“You’ll see!” he yelled as I took the phone away from my ear. “I’m right!” was the last thing I heard before I hung up.
##
“The bloody git wouldn’t know his asshole from a rat’s,” Mike huffed and took a long swig of his pint.
He was waffling on and on about some PhD whose theories he didn’t agree with, and I stopped listening after about the fifth word. His field was something in the realm of socio-economics and I couldn’t have been less interested in the subject. He knew it just as I knew he couldn’t give a fig about the tech industry. We knew the other wasn’t being rude when we tended to zone out during our rants. These nights out at the pub weren’t for advice-giving as much as they were for venting and pretending the listen.
I was staring at a television on the wall that had some baseball game on it. I’d tried to watch baseball on more than one occasion and just couldn’t get into it. Football and rugby, those were my sports. The game went to commercial and I looked down at my phone, not even realizing that I’d been fidgeting with it on the table.
So many times I’d thought about calling Bea, or at least texting her. To see if she’d even be open to seeing me again. But something stopped me every time I started scrolling through my contacts, looking for her name.
If I had to put a word to it, I guess I would call it fear. I didn’t like the possibility of
her rejecting me. But I also thought that it might all be worth it if I could just hear her voice again.
“You falling in love with that thing or something?” Mike asked, breaking me out of my thoughts.
I looked up at him to find him grinning at me. “What are you on about?”
He nodded his head down at my phone. “You’ve been staring at that thing all night. And I know you wouldn’t be doing that if you were just expecting a call from a client or from Peter. Is your father doing okay?”
Mike had never met my father personally, but he knew our situation. Plus, he and Peter were close, so I knew that my father and I had been brought up in their conversations before. Peter was like family to me by now, anyway.
I nodded and took a drink of my own beer. “He’s good. I talk to him about every other day.”
A look of understanding passed across his face and it made me apprehensive. What he said next proved I had reason to be. “Who is she, then?”
I tried to act aloof when my eyes met his. “What?”
He smirked and snorted into his mug. “Please. I’m not daft. If it’s not your job and it’s not your father, it’s clearly a woman. So…who is she?”
I groaned and covered my face with my hands. “Blimey, not you, too.”
Why was everyone suddenly inquiring about my relationships lately? Why was it any business of theirs? So, I worked a lot. Why was that a bad thing? So, that night with Bea had been the first time I’d slept with a woman in a while. That was life and if I didn’t have a problem with it, then nobody else should either.
Then, I thought about it. I couldn’t get Bea out of my head and I’d been wanting to contact her the second she left my place that morning. Maybe talking to Mike would help me figure out what to do about this whole dilemma I was in. Mike didn’t know me as well as Peter did, so I was hoping that he would be able to offer more of an outsider’s perspective. Peter was too bias, knew too many of my idiosyncrasies to offer a completely objective opinion.
I took a deep breath and let it out. “Her name is Bea and I met her about three weeks ago.”
Mike’s head swiveled around to me, his eyes wide like he hadn’t expected that I would actually admit to it. But his attention was completely focused on me as I told him my story.
“I met her at a club and brought her back to our place. You were away at that conference.”
He nodded slowly, a contemplative look on his face. “You shagged her.” It was a statement, not a question.
I nodded back, flagging down the bartender for another pint. “And now I can’t stop thinking about her. She wasn’t like most women I’ve met and especially not ones that I would pick up at a club.” I gazed across the bar, not really looking at anything, as I thought about how to describe the woman occupying most of my dreams. “She was funny. And smart and sexy. Not to mention insanely gorgeous. She wasn’t fake or whiny or clingy, you know? I didn’t look at her and think: vapid. She had way more depth to her than that. She had…character. You don’t meet women like that every day.”
I looked over at Mike’s stunned expression and realized I should have never opened my trap. That was too much. But I just couldn’t stop the words once they started.
“Okay. You obviously fancy her. What’s the problem, then?” he asked in a sober voice, which surprised me. I figured he’d be taking the mickey out of me for getting hung up on a woman after only one night together.
So, I told him about how I basically had to steal her number and what I suspected of her not being interested in anything more than the one night.
I probably sounded pathetic and maybe I was.
I looked back up at him when I was finished and he just shrugged. Shrugged, like I hadn’t just told him that I was completely infatuated over this woman after only eight hours together and that I might lose my mind if I didn’t see her again.
“You should just call her.”
My bewildered expression probably said more than I could right then. “And tell her what? That I’m the bloke who creepily stole her number and now I can’t stop obsessing over her?”
Again, he was nonchalant. Being affected by a woman like this was a big deal for me—something I knew he was completely aware of—and he was acting like I was telling him that I needed to make a dentist appointment.
“Just invite her out for a pint,” he responded as he brought his mug to his lips. “Hang out casually and see what happens. I’m here, so it will help it not seem like a date. Maybe if it’s more like a ‘come meet my friend and hang out’ it won’t freak her out so much.”
I ruminated over that. He had a point and it made sense. I really didn’t have much to lose, anyway, so why not? The worst she could do was say no and then I would be no worse off than I was right now.
The next thing I knew, I was finding her name in my phone and pressing send.
##
Chapter Four
Bea
“Bea! Your phone is ringing!” Felicity shouted from the living room.
I’d been trying to do some work on my laptop from the dining room and hadn’t even realized I didn’t have the irritating little contraption with me.
I got up and ran to the living room where Felicity was doing her daily yoga routine. I tried yoga once. Practically put myself to sleep doing it and decided that I’d stick with playing sports as my regular dose of exercise.
I grabbed my phone off the coffee table and didn’t recognize the number on the screen. I inwardly groaned, hoping it wasn’t a potential client wanting to talk quotes. We had to deal with calls like that every day. We advertised as much as we could and always gave our business cards out to people, which only had our office numbers on them, but our cell phone numbers still somehow made it to strangers interested in our services. Usually, it was through customer referrals.
And I just wasn’t in the mood to talk business right now with someone I didn’t even know.
But I answered it, anyway. “Hello?”
I didn’t get a response but I could hear noise in the background so I knew someone was on the line. “Hello?” I repeated. “Is anyone there?”
“Bea?” a deep voice asked.
A deep British voice.
Oh my God.
No way.
“Yeah?” My heart was skipping and my brain wasn’t functioning. It couldn’t be him, could it? I hadn’t given him my number, had I?
“It’s Zane. From three weeks ago at the club. Remember?”
I inwardly groaned. Why does his voice have to be so yummy?
And of course I remembered him. I would’ve had to have been comatose not to. A girl didn’t forget a man who was that good in bed. Who had handled her and talked to her in a way that nobody ever had before.
As much as I’d tried to forget, I couldn’t.
But what the hell was I supposed to say now? And why the hell was he calling?
“Um, hi,” I replied, making Felicity’s head snap up in my direction, her eyes narrowing at the way I had said it. She definitely knew that it wasn’t a client and probably knew by the way I had lowered my voice that it was a guy.
He paused and then, “I hope I haven’t caught you in the middle of something.”
The tone of voice he used made me suspect that he may have been afraid I was with someone. Like, a guy someone. I couldn’t be sure about it but the thought still made me smile, despite my best efforts not to.
“No, no. Just catchin’ up on some work from home,” I found myself saying.
If I didn’t know better, I would think that I was almost happy that Zane called me. What is that about?
But, wait. “How did you get my number? I don’t remember givin’ it to you.” I was worried that sounded far bitchier than I’d intended for it to.
“Uhh…” he hesitated, sounding uncertain, maybe even nervous. “You called my phone that night, remember? When I couldn’t find it.”
“Oh, right.”
I’d been recovering from the so-goo
d-it-couldn’t-have-been-real orgasm he’d given me and hadn’t totally registered what I’d been doing. I certainly hadn’t thought he would ever use it later.
Well, the matter of how he got my number was solved. But the question still remained, why was he calling?
“So, uh, I’m sure you’re probably busy, but I was wondering if you’d like to come join me and my mate for a pint.”
Whoa. What?
Did that mean that he was asking for sex afterward? Or was he simply just asking me to come out for a drink? It wasn’t as if guys hadn’t tried asking me out on dates after inviting me into their beds, despite my assurances to them that we would only share that one night together. They had, but I’d never found myself actually wanting to say yes before.
And I wanted to say yes to Zane.
What is happening?
Before I could say anything, Zane rushed to say, “But you’re probably busy. Sorry to bother you. Maybe another time.”
He was talking so fast, I was afraid he would hang up before I could respond. So, I just blurted out, “Sure.”
Silence.
Then, I heard him suck in a breath. “What?” he asked, his voice breathy like someone had just punched him in the stomach.
Man-up, Bea.
“Sure, yeah. I’ll come have a drink.”
Did that sound casual enough? I hoped so. I didn’t want him to think I was too eager and get ideas.
“Okay, great. Brilliant.” He sounded so surprised, like he hadn’t at all expected for me to agree, that I felt a weird flutter thing happening in my chest. Not good.
Before I could change my mind, though, he was giving me the address of the bar.
“I should be there in about twenty,” I said, still not sure how I had agreed to this.
But I definitely couldn’t say no. Not after his voice sounded so giddy when he said, “Smashing. I’ll see you then.”
I hung up and took a breath, processing everything that just happened and slowly realizing that I had just agreed to see this guy out of the context of the bedroom. Skipping past the many questions bombarding me that could possibly explain why I did such a thing—I couldn’t deal with those thoughts right now—I quickly took stock of my outfit and appearance. Clothes definitely needed changing, makeup probably only called for a light touch-up, and the hair just required a quick fluff.
Casual Affair (Timid Souls Book 2) Page 3