by Anya Sharpe
I wonder how many shades of red my face flashed. Heat rises all over my skin, and if I’m lucky, I won’t burst into flames right here in Starbucks. “Yeah. Yesterday. He came over with bagels and we sort of never got around to eating them.”
“Oh, my God.” Maya stutters. “I knew it. I just knew it.”
Conversation stops for several minutes as she stares at me, and I stare back. She breaks the silence. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Best Friend Rule Number Two. You’re obligated to provide full details within twenty-four hours of said deed. You are hereby officially tardy.”
Her joke relaxes me. Both of us really.
“It was…” I pause deciding how to describe the earth-shattering experience. “I’ll go out on a limb and say…the best ever.”
“Ever? I thought…”
“He was damned good. Evan…” I take a deep breath. “Wow. Just freakin’ wow.” I feel disloyal, but, it’s true.
“Damn. How many?” She’s going to continue quizzing me until she wrings every detail from me.
“Three.”
“Three orgasms in one morning? Seriously?” Now her eyes are so wide I’m a little concerned they might fall out.
“Uh…nooo…” The heat is scorching my cheeks again. “Three, um, rounds.”
Maya chokes on her coffee and reaches for a napkin. “You’re making this up. He nailed you three times in one day?”
“Morning. Yeah.” Call the fire department. Face officially on fire.
She stares at me. “Number of O’s,” Maya demands, staring me down.
“I don’t remember. Maybe five. Or six.” This conversation is embarrassing me, not that Maya notices. If she did, she wouldn’t care.
“You’re kidding me,” she shrieks. The two men at the table next to us to cast a few scowls our way.
“Shhh.”
“Then what happened? What’s going to happen?” Her big brown eyes are glued to me now. By my guess, she’s waiting for me to collapse into tearful despair over a colossal act of poor judgment. A giant vat of regret.
“Well, I remembered I was supposed to go to my Mom’s for a family lunch at noon for my brother’s birthday. I hauled butt, because by then I was late. So, we didn’t talk about it.”
“Jesus, Erynne. I knew it. I knew the guy had a thing for you. What I didn’t know, was you had one for him.”
“Neither did I.”
Maya studies me for a long moment or two, waiting for the rest of the story. I sigh heavily and lower my voice. “The thing is,” I choose my words carefully, “although I probably should, I don’t regret hitting the sheets with him. At all.”
****
Evan
“You gonna eat the last slice?” Lance leans over and grabs the piece of pizza from the box, and points to the untouched one growing cold on my plate. The sound of Sunday afternoon NFL blares. Don’t ask me who’s playing. I haven’t a clue. I couldn’t even tell you what color their uniforms are. To say I’m distracted is an understatement.
I shrug a half-hearted answer to his question. He doesn’t notice, as his attention is once again riveted on the game.
“Hoo-yeah! That’s what I’m talking about!” Lance leaps up and pumps his fist into the air. “Damn that was a great game…”
He wanders into my kitchen, and I hear the rattle of bottles and the fizz of freshly opened beers. Returning, he sets one in front of me and uses the remote to mute the TV.
“What the hell crawled up your ass today, man?”
“Nuthin’” I grab the beer and gulp down close to half. “I’m in a very good mood.” And I am. I’m slouched down on my couch staring blindly at the game while deliberating the next move when it comes to Erynne. Because there sure as hell is going to be a next move.
“Could have fooled me. What’s eating you up?”
I swing my feet off the coffee table, where they’ve been propped for most of the game and lean forward, forearms resting on my thighs. There’s no question what I want my next move to be. If it were up to me, I’d go downstairs and bring Erynne up here and bury myself in her for the next week. Alas, despite popular opinion, I try not to behave like a caveman.
“For fuck’s sake, man. Is this about Erynne?”
I peer at him out of the corner of my eye and decide to put him out of his nosy misery. “Took you long enough to figure it out.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re being morose because you want in her pants?”
I scowl at his crude choice of words. “Not exactly.” I sit back and sip my beer, stringing Lance along.
“All right, all right. I could have worded it better. You want my help seducing her or something?” His offer is half-hearted. I’ve never asked for help in the seduction department before.
“Don’t need it.” I can’t suppress the grin forming. This is way too good.
He lifts the beer bottle to his mouth, but stops before it touches his lips. “No.” My man Lance has figured things out. “You didn’t.”
“Yup. We did.” My smile expands. The momentary silence is deafening. I’m amused by Lance’s reaction and waiting to see what’s next.
“So…” He pauses, clearly trying to decide what to say. A speechless Lance is always entertaining.
“So…” He tries again. “Well?”
“That’s what you’re going with? ‘Well’?”
“Jesus, man. What now?” A touch of panic on my behalf crosses Lance’s face.
“Marginally better.” I chuckle at my stunned friend’s reaction, then get serious. “I’m trying to work out the ‘what now’ part.”
His breath whistles through his teeth as he leans back on the couch. “You work with the woman. Avoiding her is going to be a little hard. Perhaps you should have thought of that before you…”
I perk up. “Oh, you misunderstand the situation, Lance. I don’t want to avoid her. Far from it. This is not over. Not by a long shot.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Lance is perplexed.
“I want this woman. For the long haul. This is not a ‘one and done,’ my friend.”
“Shit. You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Damn straight I am.”
Lance gets up and bangs around in my kitchen some more before coming back with a fresh bottle of bourbon and two shot glasses.
“Then, lemme buy you a drink.”
****
Erynne
A massive bouquet of flowers greets me at the door of my apartment when I return from the True Confessions coffee date with Maya. My first thought is Derrick has a new trick up his sleeve. Weary, I sigh at the thought of another useless argument with him.
After setting down my keys and purse, I retrieve the colorful arrangement and put it in the middle of the small glass dining table. The whole room looks brighter.
I release a deep breath before opening the attached card.
The flowers are not from Derrick.
Erynne,
I’m sorry our beautiful morning ended suddenly. I hope you had a pleasant day with your family. You’ve been on my mind since.
Please join me for dinner tonight.
Yours,
Evan
“Whoa.” I reread the note several times, trying unsuccessfully to wring out some kind of underlying meaning. After the third or fourth time, my phone rings.
Evan.
“Hello, gorgeous. How’s your day been so far?”
“Wonderful. I just got back from having coffee with Maya, and the strangest thing happened.”
“Oh?”
“Some hot guy left a beautiful arrangement of flowers on my doorstep. I wonder who?”
“Hmmm. I’d go with a guy who desperately wants to take you to dinner at a very nice restaurant this evening.” His voice is light and playful, sending shivers of excitement radiating throughout my body.
“Funny. That’s exactly what the card says.”
“I hope you aren’t going t
o keep the poor sap in suspense. He’s probably been pacing his living room for hours, nervously awaiting your answer.”
“Oh dear. I suppose I should put him out of his misery.” I can’t help but giggle. “So, I’d better go call the guy. Talk to you later, Evan.”
I click off the phone, and I might be snort-laughing, because I’m trying to picture the expression on Evan’s face right about now. I leave him hanging for a few seconds, then press his contact.
****
Evan
She hung up on me? WTF?
I’m staring at the phone in disbelief, when her number pops up, ringing me.
“Evan Giamatti at your service,” I answer using a professional-sounding voice.
“Mr. Giamatti, this is Erynne Sommers. I received a request from you earlier today.”
She’s playing along. Damn, I love this woman. Wait. What?
“Did you?” I choke out the words as I consider the ones that just rolled like a freight train through my brain.
“It appears to be an invitation to join you for dinner.”
“Hmm, sounds like something I might have done.”
“Well, I’m happy to inform you my calendar is free this evening.”
“Perfect. I’ll come get you at seven sharp.” I don’t think I could smile any wider.
“I’ll be waiting.” The breathy sound of her voice is damned sexy, reminding me of the little noises she made when we…
“Oh, Erynne?”
“Yeah?”
“One request?”
Pause.
“Sure?”
“Wear the red heels.”
She laughs.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Erynne
A huge, silly smile takes over as I slip on the requested red heels. My favorite shoes must hold some intrigue for Evan. How long has the guy sported an interest? Perhaps it’s better if I don’t know.
I straighten the skirt of my white feather lace dress, which is a little on the short side, but has a very modest neckline. On occasion, I’ve worn it to the office paired with a red or black jacket. Tonight, only the shoes and the dress are necessary. At the last minute, I decide to slip on the infamous Favelli bracelet.
My wavy hair is piled into a messy bun style which is easy to accomplish while looking good. A quick, final swipe of lip gloss and I’m ready to knock ‘em dead. At least I hope so. I stop in my tracks to consider the thought.
Is that what I’m doing? Trying to impress Evan?
Plopping down on the edge of the bed, I contemplate the idea, which shocks me. There’s never been any doubt Evan tips the hotness meter. Of course, we’ve become pretty close since we’ve worked together closely for several months now. He’s a great person, super funny and genuinely caring. I liked him a lot professionally long before liking him for…
Then, there’s the little…okay, big deal right here on this very bed yesterday. If that’s a typical performance for the guy, the sex bar has been significantly raised. Can’t say I wouldn’t mind test driving that car again.
What does all this mean? What am I doing and should I be doing it? Perhaps I need to take a step or two back. The divorce is final tomorrow. Am I moving along too fast?
A shiver of confusion and uncertainty runs through me.
The doorbell rings, interrupting my internal debate.
Seven o’clock.
For now, I shake off the doubts taking root in my brain and answer the door.
Evan makes my mouth water and heart pound. Ever since I allowed myself to see him as something other than a coworker and platonic friend, he’s had an effect on me. In one sense, that bothers me. In another, not so much. Hence, my raging internal conflict.
One look at Evan now and the conflict is tilting toward the hell-yeah zone.
The charcoal Armani suit fits him like a glove. The formality of his attire is tempered by an electric blue shirt, the collar casually unbuttoned allowing a peek at a thin tuft of chest hair. I notice the placement of Evan’s amazing tattoos was well-considered so as not to be evident in professional and many forms of casual dress. When does he allow them to show?
Other than…you know…
“Hey, you look beautiful.” His voice is like silk, wrapping itself around my soul a little bit. His strong, smooth hand glides down my arm, sending a delightful wave of shivers through my tense body. He grins when he reaches my wrist and notices the bracelet.
“You’re looking pretty fine yourself, Ace.” I try to inject something casual into the moment, which—for me, at least—seems to be instantaneously heated and heavy. Yeah, because now I’m transfixed by the soft dark hair licking at his collar and the insanely blue eyes holding mine captive.
“Erynne?”
His words break the spell. “Huh?”
“I asked if you were ready.” He’s amused by my distraction. How long was I staring at him in a daze?
“Yes. Let me get my coat and purse.” I spin around and nab the items from the dining room chair, praying I don’t do something foolish and stumble. I’m a little on the shaky side, to be honest.
Fortunately, I don’t fall on my face. I manage to get into Evan’s car without incident and release a sigh of relief after he shuts the door.
****
We’re seated next to each other at an intimate corner table. Candlelight glows on the crisp white linens, making Evan’s eyes sparkle as he gazes at me. Yes, he is gazing. It’s more than looking or studying. There’s meaning behind it. I reach for my wine glass, only his hand stops mine, setting it down on the table, covered by his.
“You okay?”
“Of course.”
Uh-oh. Something’s off.
After a few moments, he says, “Did we move too fast yesterday?”
I didn’t expect this question. I try to read his thoughts, which is frustrating. All I can come up with is I suspect he’s trying to disentangle himself from whatever we started. “I’m not sure. Perhaps.”
He nods and squeezes my hand and lets go. A sinking feeling takes root.
“Look, Evan, I understand if you don’t want…”
He whips his gaze back to me, grabs my hand again and interrupts. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what? I’m letting you off the hook.” I’m confused. “No harm, no foul.”
He shakes his head. “You misunderstand why I asked if we moved too fast.”
“What are you saying?”
“This isn’t as easy as it seemed in my brain.” He chuckles and rubs his scruff with the hand not holding mine. His next words blow me away.
“Erynne, your divorce is final tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah.”
“It feels like I’ve been waiting forever to come to you.”
Not what I expected you to say, Evan.
“Even so, you may not be ready to jump into something with someone else yet. You might need more time. I pushed the envelope. Yesterday wasn’t…fair to you.”
Frustration is written all over his face.
“I’m not sure I’m following this, Evan. If you think I regret what happened, I don’t. Did it happen sooner than it should have? I don’t know. Maybe. Am I supposed to be following some kind of rules? No dating or having sex with a new partner for X number of months?”
It hits me. I don’t feel guilty because of how things ended with Derrick and me. I genuinely like Evan. A lot.
“Oh, sweetheart. What I’m trying to say is I want more than a night or two of sex with you. I want something bigger. Something more.” He pauses to study my reaction. “I understand you may not be ready for a new relationship, though.”
“Oh.” I’m speechless, even in the privacy of my thoughts—which are pretty jumbled at this point.
The waiter arrives to deliver our meals, giving me time to ponder what Evan said.
I push green beans around on my plate, thinking about the whole thing. Evan is a huge temptation, but is it too soon? When is it not too soon? I peer up at him
and something in his eyes makes my heart squeeze tight. I swallow hard and take a sip of water. Here goes…
“Are you telling me, Evan, that you want a, uh, relationship of some sort with me?” I’m scared to ask, but I do.
He’s searing me with a burning hot gaze which answers the question for me.
“Yes.”
That was unequivocal.
I nod and push food around for another moment.
“Can we go slow?” I glance at him, a small smile playing on my lips. “Not too slow. I, um, kinda liked yesterday. A lot,” I admit.
The relief on his face mirrors the relief inside me. “So, can I kiss you in public? Like right now?”
“I suppose so.”
“Thank God.” He leans into me and places both palms on my face, setting his warm, soft lips on me, allowing them to caress mine in a sweet, yet passionate dance. My eyes open, meeting his, melting into his soul, as he pulls away ever so slightly, putting only a breath of air between us. Our foreheads touch for a few moments, and his lips are back on mine for a quick second taste.
“Holy cow,” I say so only he can hear. “You do know how to kiss, Ace.”
“You’re no slacker in the smooching department, either, sweetheart. I could kiss you for hours.”
“Hmm.” I consider the possibility as our lips entwine a little longer.
We manage to finish dinner without tearing each other’s clothes off, but heated tension radiates the whole time. More than once Evan runs a single fingertip up the side of my thigh, sending shivers of desire rolling through me.
Back at the apartment building, I sense Evan’s intention to maul me with his hands and mouth as soon as the elevator doors shut. I can’t help but giggle when a hand prevents them from closing, more or less cock-blocking him.
“Sorry, mates.” A tall, suave man with an Australian accent, steps into the elevator. The guy looks like a zillion bucks dressed in what is clearly very expensive casual clothing. He even smells like money, charm, and sophistication.
“Dante, how are you?” Evan’s grin is polite and tense at the same time. He’s irked since his plans for his hands were squashed.
“Ah, Evan, brilliant! You?” Debonair Dante shifts his glance to me and Evan’s whole body goes stiff. “A silly question. You’ve got a stunning lady on your arm. I’m sure the evening is moving along exceptionally well.” I’m certain the smile on this man’s face is trademarked as panty-melting, because, holy shit, this is one gorgeous guy.