by Liv Morris
“Keep looking, Jack, you’ll meet her. How’s Dad?” His tone changed, the hurt and abandonment he felt over being excluded by our father still so raw, even after three years.
“Pigheaded, rude, and selfish. You know, the same,” I quipped, making him laugh.
“When are you going to get over here and visit me? There’s a whole country of women here you haven’t slept with yet,” he joked.
“I’ll get over there soon,” I promised, ignoring his dig. “I wouldn’t want to deny the women of L.A. the pleasure of my company,” I added, chuckling.
“That would be good. I really miss you, Jack. It would be great to catch up.”
“Yeah, it would be,” I agreed. I wiped my eyes, glad that I was alone. If anyone caught wind of this it would ruin my reputation. Jack Falcon showing emotion was like an honest politician: nobody would ever believe it. “You know what? I’ll do it. Give me a few weeks and I’ll take a week off and come over.”
“Really?” Alex sounded shocked.
“Yes, really. I can take time off, you know.” I said, not admitting that I was surprised myself. In three years I’d never taken time off. My holidays would’ve accumulated to quite a nice little amount by now. I laughed, imagining Dad’s face if I told him I was taking all my leave to go and visit Alex. It would almost be worth doing just to capture that look.
Chapter Four
The rest of the week flew by uneventfully, and by Thursday I was glad it was almost the weekend. Leaving work close to seven in the evening was early for me. Usually I was at the office until after nine. Hungry, I stopped off at a burger place on the way home. Levine’s Burgers was as balanced and healthy as my diet got.
Sliding into a booth at the back of the restaurant, I picked up a menu. I decided on a works burger and thick cut chips, the first thing I set my eyes on. If you walked into this place without knowing anything about it, there was a good chance you’d walk right out. Its aging interior and daggy atmosphere made it a less-than-appealing place to eat. It wasn’t just convenience that led me here. Believe it or not, Levine’s held a lot of sentimental memories for me.
The first time I’d been there was as a child, way back before Mum left us. Mum had been a farmer’s daughter who had hooked up one night with my father during college and fallen pregnant with me. There was no love in their union at all; it was all about necessity. Dad’s father demanded they marry, so they did. What resulted was a very cold, emotionless relationship that carried over into childhood for my brother.
They were both full of blame and plenty of regret. Mum had to drop out of college and marry a man she didn’t love. Dad’s life didn’t change much. He was never really around, and being married certainly didn’t stop his screwing around. Mum was aware of his unfaithfulness, but she was also terrified of him.
When I was nine and Alex was seven, Mum went out one day to do some shopping and never came back. The note she left us in her room explained she couldn’t handle being our mother or my father’s wife any longer. As a nine-year-old, reading the words ‘I can’t handle being your mother’ was a kick in the guts. How could a child not take that to heart? For years I switched between blaming myself and blaming Dad for her leaving. Now, I just blame her. She made the decision to leave us. No matter how bad things are for you, how can you justify leaving your children in an environment you can’t handle yourself?
After she left, things with Dad became even more strained. If he was not around much before she left, afterwards we barely saw him at all. At nine, I had more contact with my nanny than my father, yet that didn’t stop the constant yearning I had to please him. Things finally changed in my teens. After years of being ignored, it was like suddenly at the age of sixteen I had become useful to my father. He included me and acknowledged me, though deep down I knew it was only for his benefit. If I wasn’t able to help, then I was no use. If I hadn’t shown any interest in the family business, then like Alex, I would’ve been ignored.
I often thought about Mum, especially when I went to Levine’s. It was the place of the last meal Alex and I had with my mother. Dad, of course, had been too busy working to eat with us.
“You ready to order?”
I glanced up at the uninterested waitress who stood with her pen poised, ready to take note. She looked about fifty, with curly red hair and freckles. I gave her my order and watched her as she walked back behind the counter.
The restaurant was pretty empty for a Thursday night. The young couple that sat two booths over were feeding each other chips in between smiling and giggling at each other. I rolled my eyes at their behavior. I turned and focused on the only other person in the place: a pretty woman who sat alone.
She looked young, probably early twenties, but there was something about her that I couldn’t put my finger on. Her cream-and-white striped dress that matched the other waitress’ outfit was a dead giveaway that she worked there. I hadn’t seen her before—not that I came in very often. She had the kind of face I’d remember, and coming from me that said a lot. Beauty was everywhere, and when you sleep with as many women as I did, it becomes difficult for beauty to stand out. But this woman did just that. She stood out from every other woman I’d been with or wanted to be with.
What exactly it was about her that drew my attention, I wasn’t quite sure. Her long dark hair hung down her back, layers flying everywhere. Every now and then she had to tuck the escaping strands back behind her ear, only to have them tumble right back out again. Her porcelain skin, so soft and creamy, looked even whiter against her dark red lips—lips that parted into a smile every few seconds as she read something on her phone. She looked up suddenly, my eyes darting away as she caught me staring.
Something inside me squirmed. Was that embarrassment I felt? Since when did a woman make me feel anything besides the need for a good fuck? I busied myself with my own phone, her gaze still burning into me, while my emotions tangled inside me like a confused mess.
“Enjoy.”
I jumped as the waitress dumped my meal in front of me with as much grace as a clown on acid, sending my fork flying across the cracked tiled floor. As I bent down to retrieve it, I inadvertently caught the gaze of my mystery girl who had looked up to see what all the commotion was. She smiled, her deep green eyes darting back down to her phone before I could respond with my own gesture.
The burger was good, albeit a little greasy. The cold, stale chips I didn’t touch. Downing the last of my water, I stood up, leaving a twenty pound note on the table. I passed the now empty table where my mystery girl had been sitting, her floral and musky perfume floating past my senses. I hadn’t noticed her leave, and the disappointment I felt surprised me.
Outside, I rifled through my pockets for my keys and approached my car. My mind was still on her. I kept seeing those stunning lips curve upwards into a smile. I should have approached her while I had the chance, not that I had any idea what I would’ve said. My usual lines wouldn’t have worked on her, nor would I have wanted to use them. This girl felt different. She hadn’t reacted to my attention at all, which unnerved me a little bit.
“Shit.” The faint feminine curse came from around the corner. Edging my way around, I saw her. She was kicking the tire of a car, presumably hers. Even from my distance away, I could see it was flat. My heart raced as I watched, the glow from the streetlamp next to the car radiating off her.
“Are you all right?” I asked, walking slowly toward her. She jumped, shocked by my presence, her face guarded. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as my blood pulsated through my veins. I breathed out, not sure if it was the cool breeze or my close proximity to this beauty that was the cause of my symptoms.
“Flat tire,” she explained, gesturing toward the wheel. “And flat phone.” She held up her cell as if it were evidence. She leaned against the bonnet of the car, her legs crossed and her jacked wrapped tightly around her body. Even through the layers of clothes her body looked amazing, her bare legs seemingly going on for
ever.
“Can I give you a lift somewhere?” I asked, cocking my head. She hesitated, as if she were weighing up her options. “I promise I’m not a serial killer,” I added, chuckling. Fuck, I could feel my dick hardening at her nervousness.
“Would you tell me if you were?” she asked skeptically, biting her lip.
“Pardon?” I asked, swallowing a laugh.
“You know,” she pressed, “a serial killer. I mean, you wouldn’t be a very good one if you went around telling your victims you were a killer, but still…” Her voice trailed off.
“Honey, do I look like I would hurt a fly?” I asked, shrugging as if the idea were ridiculous. She eyed me skeptically, which made me laugh nervously. It was like she saw right through the fifteen years’ worth of barriers I’d built up around myself to the real me. The one I never showed anyone.
“I don’t know.” She looked down at my pocket where my hand was shoved. “Can I borrow your phone?” she asked. Wordlessly, I handed it to her, my eyebrows raised as my fingers brushed over hers. The feel of her skin against mine hit me like a lightning bolt and all I wanted to do was pull her into my arms and kiss those sexy lips.
She dialed and held the phone to her ear.
“Hi, my car has a flat, can you pick me up?” she spoke quietly, her body turned away from me slightly. “An hour?” she glanced back at me, sighing. “No, it’s okay. I might have a lift.” She hung up the phone and handed it back to me.
“So, you’re accepting my ride?” I grinned, sliding my phone back into my pocket. She nodded.
“Only if you’re sure it’s okay, and you promise not to murder me. I’m not far away, just off North.” Her hair blew erratically in the wind as she tried to tame it by twisting it around in a knot.
“I said it was okay, and I don’t plan to kill you. What’s your name?” I asked. She didn’t answer. Instead, she silently followed me to my car. I opened the passenger side, letting her slide in before I closed the door.
“Nice car,” she commented as I buckled in my seatbelt. She glanced around, taking in the spotless leather interior, her eyes falling on my briefcase. “What do you do?”
“I work in property.” I replied.
I didn’t work in property. I was property. I eyed her as she shrugged, her indifference making me feel like I was five years old. “How about you, Angel? I take it you work at the diner?” I asked, my eyes wandering up her petite frame, finally resting on her eyes. She blushed.
“Angel?” she asked, her nose scrunching up in confusion.
I pointed to the silver angel pendant that hung around her neck. “Well, you wouldn’t tell me your name.” I flashed her a smile.
She laughed. “I’m…a student. The diner is just for now, until I finish college,” she replied, glancing out the window. I nodded, pretending not to notice her fidgeting hands, or the way she tugged at the hem of her dress, which fell just above her knees. I made her uncomfortable, I realized as I eyed her bare legs, wishing I could get between them. I pulled into North, letting her direct me to her house. Any minute now she would get out of my car and I would never see her again. The anxiety that thought filled me with astonished me. I barely knew this girl, yet the thought of never seeing her again made me angry.
Fuck, I did have feelings. Who knew?
“Just up here on the right. The white fence.” Her hand rested on the door handle, ready to jump out at the first opportunity. As I slowed the car to a stop, she jumped out, turning back quickly to close the door. “Night. Thanks for the lift,” she smiled.
“Wait,” I said quickly, wondering what the hell I was doing. “What’s the hurry? We’re outside you’re house. I think it’s a pretty safe bet I’m not going to kill you.”
She smiled, her grip on the door handle loosening. We sat in the car, neither of us speaking, a nervous energy hanging between us. I racked my brain, trying to think of something to say that wasn’t offensive, inappropriate, or sexist. I came up empty.
“If we’re just going to sit here, not speaking, then I might as well just go inside,” she said teasingly. I raised an eyebrow. That was the most engaging she’d been to me this whole time. I chuckled and pointed to the cigarettes poking out of her bag.
“Can I have one of them?” I asked.
“You smoke?” she asked, surprised, handing me the pack. I took one out and handed it back.
“Not often, only when I’m nervous,” I said. Translation: I was never nervous. Until now. I placed the butt between my lips and drew the flame. She rolled her eyes and laughed.
“Does that line actually work?” she chuckled.
“What?” I said, confused. I handed the cigarette to her, watching as she drew in a breath with those blood-red lips.
“Only when I’m nervous,” she mimicked, her shoulders dancing as she swayed. I scoffed. As if I looked like that. “Bullshit you’re nervous,” she continued. “I know your type. I’ve met guys like you before. Smooth, calm, and collected.”
“Wow. Someone’s feisty,” I murmured, raising my eyebrow. Damn. Where the hell did this come from? I was liking her even more now that she had relaxed a bit.
“Sorry,” she blushed. “I get hit on a lot at work.” She explained.
“Right,” I began, amused. “Somehow I don’t think most of the clientele at Lavine’s could be described as smooth, calm, or collected.”
“Okay, maybe you have a point, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m right about you,” she said as she laughed, her head tilting back against the back of the seat. I was staring, but I couldn’t look away. She glanced at me, embarrassed.
“What?” she said nervously.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to stare. You’re just…different. I’ve never met anyone like you before.” She went to roll her eyes again. “I know that sounds like another really bad line, but I promise you, it’s not.” She had no idea how far she was from being just another girl.
She nodded and unbuckled her seatbelt, and for a moment I thought she was going to get out. Instead, she leaned over. She took the cigarette from my fingers and drew in another breath, all the while her eyes locked on mine. She moved away, and breathed out.
“I better get inside,” she said, her eyes twinkling. I didn’t answer. Instead I watched her as she stepped out of the car and shut the door. She smiled at me again through the frosted window before walking off.
“Night, Angel,” I called after her, finally breathing again. I stared down at the butt between my fingers and watched as it slowly burnt out. It was tinted with her lipstick, and her perfume hung in the air, intoxicating me. I had no idea what the hell had just happened but I knew I had to see her again.
Chapter Five
Shutting the door with my foot, I threw my briefcase on the hall table and my jacket on top of that. Mr. Jefferies howled around my feet as I kicked off my shoes; he was either complaining about my foot odor or begging for food…I wasn’t sure which.
“Come on then,” I said, beckoning him to follow me into the kitchen. I poured some dry food into his bowl. “There you go, boy.”
It was barely ten o’clock and I was heading to bed. That had to be a first. I unbuttoned my shirt, threading my arms through and disposing of it in the laundry along with my pants. Turning on the shower, my thoughts wandered back to Angel as my hands moved over my ripped chest. There was something so sexy and innocent about her, even in that daggy, god-awful uniform.
Stepping into the shower, I leaned against the white-tiled wall, my hand enclosed over the girth of my dick. I began to move my hand, rubbing it up and down furiously. My cock hardened against my grip as I imagined feeding it between those sexy lips.
“Fuck,” I gasped. My hand leaned so firmly against the wall that my fingers were starting to bend back. I breathed out as I released, spraying the shower screen with my jizz as my knees almost gave way. I was exhausted.
I shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, carefully avoiding contact with the door whi
le silently apologizing to my cleaner who had to deal with that tomorrow. I left the towel in the bathroom and walked naked to my bed, glancing at my form in the mirror. My skin was naturally tanned, a blessing for someone living in London. My hair was a mess, but it worked on me, and so did the stubble that covered my jaw. My dark eyes gleamed back at me, my lips curving into a grin.
In my bedroom, I eased myself between the sheets, making myself comfortable with my pillow tucked under my head. I was a chronic stomach sleeper and I loved to toss and turn. Sometimes my king-sized bed even felt too small. I closed my eyes, for once not needing the aid of pills or alcohol to drift off to sleep.
Chapter Six
My stomach growled as I realized I’d been holed up in my office for hours. Determined to get the presentation I was working on finished, I asked Carly to grab me a sandwich from the deli down the road. Leaving the office meant losing time, and I wanted this done today even if it meant staying here all night.
My phone buzzed against the hardwood mahogany desk. I picked it up and barked hello. I didn’t have time for small talk right now. Whoever it was, it wasn’t as important as what I had going on here.
“Hey man, don’t forget the dinner next Sunday,” Luke said easily, ignoring my tone. He was used to my mood swings—twelve years of friendship had made him immune to them.
“Yeah, I haven’t,” I replied, sitting back in my chair. I rubbed my neck, trying to crease out the knots of tension this project was causing me. If this deal didn’t go through, who knows what my father would do. Spending all of last week out every night probably hadn’t been the best move on my part, especially since most of those nights were featured in various gossip columns, all managing to include at least a picture or two of me looking very intoxicated.
My favorite picture was of me sitting at a table with my hand clearly up some blonde’s skirt, while my other hand occupied a very full glass of scotch. My memories of that night were more than a little hazy, but according to the newspaper I’d had a pretty good time.