I let myself slip gently free of him, then flopped back against the side of the tub, all my limbs tingling, my chest flushed pink, my breath returning in shallow pants.
I didn’t feel embarrassed about what I’d done. If anything, I felt proud. Proud that I’d taken control, and proud that I’d done exactly what I wanted, seeking out my own desires, in my own way and at my own pace.
After a moment, once he’d caught his breath too, Blake climbed back out of the hot tub to pour out glasses of champagne, handing one to me, the water dripping from his skin, glimmering like little jewels in the cold night air.
Then he slipped back down beneath the bubbling water, holding his glass towards me. “I’d like to propose a toast,” he said.
“To what?” I asked, confused.
“To Jessica Clark. There’s more to you than meets the eye. And I like it.”
“Well then ... to me,” I smiled.
And as we clinked glasses, we held each other’s gaze for what seemed like forever. As Blake looked at me, I just knew that something was changing between us.
CHAPTER NINE
“Okay, Jessica, so what exactly do you have you got to show us?”
The two men looked up at me coldly from their high-backed leather chairs in the executive board room, up on the twenty-first floor of the faceless corporate office. Both were immaculately-suited, both bald, both a touch overweight, and both probably in their late-forties. In fact, the whole effect was a little ... bizarre. It was like seeing a pair of twins whose mom had been dressing them identically from birth and had carried on the practice right through to adulthood. It was kind of cute, but if you thought about it too long, it was also kind of creepy.
Pretty much the only things that separated Max Hirschberg and Andy Weber in appearance were their ties (Max’s was electric blue, while Andy’s was a forest green) and the fact that Max wore a goatee, while Andy was clean-shaven.
I gulped, feeling my throat close up and my heart drumming hard in my chest at what felt like a million miles an hour.
This moment had come around so quickly already. After I’d emailed off my proposal, I’d thought nothing more about it. But then, last night, I’d had the message, asking me to come in, late on Friday morning, to present my pitch for the job.
I turned to my bag, taking out the printed-out packs of notes I’d made, glad for just one moment longer to compose myself. Because, after all, this was the very first pitch I’d ever done (if you didn’t count my impromptu outburst in Blake’s office that time).
“Well, gentlemen,” I began, handing each of them an info pack, “I was thinking that what your restaurant needs to really stand out is something completely fresh. Something that’s not been done before … And if you’ll turn to page three of your notes, I’ll show you just what I mean …”
To my surprise, the two men actually did turn the page, following my instructions. It felt weird to be in control and have people actually listen to me. But I was proud of myself for learning how to take the lead. It was fun practicing on Blake, of course, but it was turning out to be useful, no essential, in my professional life, too.
And as I talked, pitching my idea in more depth, both Max and Andy nodding along thoughtfully, I inwardly thanked Blake. Such a lot of this new-found confidence had been down to him.
He’d taught me by example: pushing me forwards, testing my boundaries, and making sure I ended up in situations a little outside of my comfort zone – because it turned out it was in those kinds of situations that I found out just who I really was ...
He might still be keeping things from me, but I owe him so much already ...
Eventually, I wound up my presentation, and looked hopefully at the two men.
But both remained completely expressionless, giving absolutely nothing away. This obviously wasn’t their first rodeo.
“Thanks very much, Miss Clarke,” Max (or was it Andy?) said finally, after an excruciatingly long pause. “We’ll be in touch.”
I thanked them both again for their time, and then made my way back out of the boardroom, all my nerves gone by now, replaced instead by a heady rush of excitement and adrenaline.
Well, they’re playing their cards close to their chest.
But even if I hadn’t got the job — so what? I was proud of myself. This was all good experience, the kind of situation that college could never have prepared me for. Because it turned out that this business was as much about confidence and persuasion as it was color sense. And the most satisfying thing of all was that I was working finally, building up my ideas and my experience, and even more importantly than that, I was doing it on my own.
I was just heading towards the central elevators that brought you back down to the lobby, still high on excitement, when I saw the sleek chrome doors sliding closed.
“Hey wait!” I called, dashing forwards, watching a male hand flash out from inside, holding the doors open so that I could enter.
“Thanks very much,” I said, stepping into the elevator, smiling at the guy who’d held the doors for me ...
Wait, don’t I know you?
And I realized it was Alex Wiltshire, Blake’s partner at Matthew’s Inc.
“Jessica, isn’t it?” he said, smiling warmly at me, his salt and pepper hair shining in the dim lighting of the elevator.
And I have to admit, I was kind of flattered that someone like him, someone so powerful, had actually remembered my name.
I smiled and nodded. “Yes, we met at that fundraiser the other week. Nice to see you again, Mr Wiltshire.”
“Please, call me Alex,” he grinned. “Ground floor?”
“Thank you,” I said, watching his carefully-manicured finger tap the buttons, the elevator doors sliding closed, enveloping us in a moment’s silence.
For a second, I thought I could feel him look me over, but I immediately dismissed it. After all, this was Blake’s partner, wasn’t it.
No, you’ve just imagined it.
And anyway, guys like this are all about business, and here’s an opportunity to make a real-life elevator pitch ...
Still buoyed up on the adrenaline of my previous pitch, I just blurted it out:
“I was wondering if you might have some interior design work for me? I’m in the market for new clients, you see ...”
“Well, funny you should mention that,” he said chuckled, shooting me a wide, warm smile. “I might have something for you, actually. How about we set up a preliminary meeting one evening? Just to chat over some of your ideas?”
“Wow, that would be great,” I replied, feeling like this day totally couldn’t get any better. “When would you like to meet? I could drop by the offices if you like?”
“Oh, don’t worry,” he said, drawing out his Blackberry from his blazer pocket. “Let me take care of all that. Just tell me your number and I’ll be in touch soon enough.”
“Sure,” I said. And as I told him my number, I felt perhaps a little frustrated that we hadn’t finalized anything concrete.
Don’t be so impatient.
Rome wasn’t built in a day, remember.
You’re lucky just to be giving someone like Alex Wiltshire your details in the first place!
“Well, it was great bumping into you,” he said, when the lift reached the lobby and the doors swished opened once more.
“You too,” I smiled back.
I wasn’t sure what the correct etiquette was, but he seemed to be leaning in for a peck on the cheek, so I obliged, feeling his hand brush the small of my back for a second, too.
Wait. Did he just touch my butt?
No, you’re imagining it …
“Well, I’d better go …” I replied, shaking off the idea that he was giving off weird, creepy vibes.
Things were probably just a bit more touchy-feely back in Alex’s day. A lot of older guys were like that. It didn’t necessarily mean he was immediately a total creep. After all, he was almost the same age as my Pop. He just came from a
different era, that was all.
You’re overthinking things again.
Just let it go.
As I was heading outside, planning to grab myself a celebratory latte and a pastry from a nearby coffee shop, I heard my cell buzzing in my bag. I pulled it out: Fallon calling.
“Guess what?!” she said excitedly, the very moment I answered.
“What?”
“We’ve just added a New York date to the first leg of the tour! For this time next week! Tell me you can make it.”
I thought about my upcoming week. Still without any concrete work, there were no commitments to get in the way of seeing Fallon. I could work on my portfolio whenever I liked. And as for my ... boyfriend? Or whatever Blake was. Well, he seemed to be sticking to his usual pattern: calling me up out of the blue, pulling some amazing surprise out of the bag, and then leaving me hanging for days on end, wondering if he’d ever call again. So unsurprisingly, no, we definitely didn’t have dinner plans for next Wednesday.
Truth was, I was beginning to mind less and less about being left hanging all the time by Blake. That last night in the hot tub, I realized it wasn’t just a one-way street. That I could be the one to wrap Blake around my finger, too.
And I actually began to hope that he would demand my presence the same night Circles were playing. I already felt a small thrill at the idea of texting him the reply: sorry, I’m busy.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” I replied, excitedly, happy to hear my friend cheer on the other end of the phone.
CHAPTER TEN
I returned home to the apartment and set my bag down with a sigh of relief. As always, there was Gina on the couch, painting her toenails. It actually felt kind of good to come home to someone, to be able to talk about my day. And the truth was, while we might not ever be best friends, Gina and I were getting on surprisingly well. It turned out we were both addicted to Chinese food, for instance, not to mention Grey’s Anatomy.
“So how did it go?” she asked, looking up at me with a hopeful smile.
“Pretty good, actually,” I said, thinking the meeting with Max and Andy over once again. “Yeah, pretty good. I don’t suppose you fancy celebrating with me? We could send out for chow mein?”
“I’d love to, sweetie,” she said, “but I’m out on a hot date tonight. Julius. One of Madonna’s ex backing dancers, if you can believe that. I bumped into him at Provocateur last week. I used to know him, back in the day, and boy, he’s still got it. Body like a god, and a cock to match …”
“Wow, that’s great,” I said, trying to mask not only my disappointment at the idea of a night in alone, but also my blushes at Gina’s frank talk. While I might have done a lot of new things recently, I still didn’t know how to talk about sex without getting embarrassed.
It wasn’t that I’d ever thought sex was dirty, it’s just that me and my girlfriends back in Glenbrook Falls had never really talked about it. Nice girls don’t, I suppose. And if it ever came up in conversation, we always skirted around the issue. People ‘went all the way’ or ‘slept together’ or ‘spent the night together’. They certainly didn’t fuck.
I don’t think any of my girlfriends had ever said the word ‘cock’ out-loud. And even Fallon, though she was no prude, spoke more in hints: hints toward what she wanted and what she’d been doing. Gina was just so brash in comparison. She called a spade a spade ... Or a cock a cock, I suppose.
Did she do that with Blake, too?
Is that what he likes?
I tried to imagine myself talking dirty to him. Saying all those things out-loud that I knew we both wanted. But I couldn’t quite imagine myself doing it. It just didn’t seem like me. There still seemed to be this weird difference between what you did, and what came out of your mouth. But then again, there were lots of things I could never have imagined myself doing until just a few short weeks ago ...
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Gina said, pulling me out of my thoughts. “You got a telegram earlier, Miss Popular. I had to sign for it.”
“A telegram?” I replied, confused, wondering just who in the world would send a telegram in this day and age.
“I put it on your bed. You’ve got class, girl. The most I’ve ever got from a guy was a late-night text message, and that can only ever mean one thing, not that I’m complaining ...”
I left Gina and I headed down the corridor to my room, still puzzling over who it could be from, wondering if perhaps Max and Andy had sent it, or Alex Wiltshire, or …
Blake.
Of course it was him.
I knew it the moment I picked it up off the bed and read the first line:
PACK OVERNIGHT BAG. BE READY BY 6. I’LL SEND MY DRIVER. BRING YOUR PASSPORT. YOU’LL LIKE THIS.
I looked at the clock on my phone, panicked. It was just after five already.
I had to admit, I was equal parts excited and annoyed. Excited because, obviously, I was about to be taken away somewhere really special — no doubt wined and dined at the finest restaurants imaginable and abroad too (I’d not been out of this country ever). But annoyed, because once again here was Blake exerting his control over me: calling all the shots, taking charge as usual.
Whatever our relationship was, I wanted it to be equal. I’d been working out how to play Blake at his own game, more than just hoping to blow him off one night, and tell him, ‘Sorry, I’m washing my hair,’ making him wait for me. I’d been thinking that it was perhaps his turn to receive a mysterious invitation.
Problem was, I just didn’t know exactly what that invitation would be. I didn’t have half of New York’s hotels at my disposal, did I? I was gonna have to get a little more creative, and I’d been hoping to be able to do so before he beckoned me once more.
What would he do if I just said no to this?
What if this is the night I’m washing my hair?
I imagined myself telling him I wasn’t coming. Telling him that I was busy tonight. That would send the message, surely? But then, I wouldn’t get to go away with him either, would I?
Bring your passport.
It might be a red herring, but the thought of actually going abroad for the first time in my life was just too exciting. My head whirled with possible destinations: Rome? Amsterdam? Paris? There were so many beautiful places in the world, places that Blake had told me about, places I’d studied at college, and read about longingly in my design books. Living in New York was exciting, of course it was. But as the rent was so expensive, I’d always thought that I was never going to be able to save up for a trip to Europe. To blow this opportunity, just to get even further into a silly cat-and-mouse game with Blake, was a crazy idea.
I was going. There were no two ways about it.
I looked again at the clock: it was now a quarter after five. I’d wasted a whole ten minutes just thinking about not going, when I knew deep down that I was always at Blake’s beck and call.
Now I only had forty five minutes remaining to pack. Damn. I’d better get a move on ...
Since I’d been shopping for clothes to fit my new lifestyle, packing wasn’t quite as hard as I’d always found it in the past. I just chose a couple of my favorite new outfits. And of course, my best Agent Provocateur underwear. I grabbed my overnight bag and I was done.
The problem was, the stylish new Jessica didn’t have a stylish new overnight bag to match, did she? There was no getting around it: without any proper warning from Blake, I was going to have to meet him at the airport carrying my Hello Kitty hold-all.
Great.
How am I supposed to look sophisticated like this?
It was the kind of thing that seemed to happen all the time with me. I thought back to turning up to dinner that night in a ratty old band t-shirt of Fallon’s. I’m sure the kind of girls Blake was used to dating never got caught out like this. They probably had exquisite Louis Vuitton hold-alls filled with tiny scraps of lingerie and fancy evening gowns, just packed ready and waiting for a guy like Blake Matthews to w
hisk them away for the weekend.
Well, he was just going to have to get used to it. I wasn’t like those kinds of girls. And if he didn’t know that by now, then he wasn’t the perceptive guy I thought he was.
And maybe he even liked it.
Maybe he was sick of those perfect model girls.
I was gonna walk out of here with my head held high, Hello Kitty luggage and all.
Just then I heard the sound of a car horn outside, and my heart leapt.
“You have fun now, sweetie,” Gina called after me as I ran through the apartment. She didn’t need to add ‘while it lasts’ even though we both knew that was what she was thinking.
“Hey, you too! Enjoy Julius,” I replied, giving her a quick kiss and a squeeze before dashing out the door.
There parked in front of the building, shining and sleek, was Blake’s jet black Bentley, the engine softly purring. But Blake wasn’t inside it. The car was empty, save for Nathaniel, the handsome blonde driver I’d met a couple of times before, and who I guessed was probably around the same age as me.
“Mr Matthews has asked me to explain that he’ll be meeting you at the airport,” he said in a soft, courteous tone, quickly and smoothly getting out of the car and taking my case, placing it carefully in the trunk before opening the door for me.
“Thank you,” I said, unable to stop myself from smiling as I slid elegantly into the plush leather interior within.
Mr Matthews will be meeting you at the airport …
I smiled to myself and shook my head.
If Mom and Pop could see me now!
Actually, on second thoughts, they’d probably think I was being abducted and call the police. No, I’d better keep this one to myself.
§
“Blake, this is absolutely incredible!” I gasped, still unable to quite believe my eyes.
Taming Blake (A New Adult Romance): The Complete Trilogy Page 23