by Jessica Dale
“How so?” I hoped my tone was nonchalant.
“Let’s just say it never ends well, for the woman.”
“So he’s a player. Jules already told me that.”
“He’s more than a–”
I interrupted her. “Maybe I’m playing him.”
She laughed, deep and throaty.
The waitress returned.
“Turkey on rye, no mayo,” Pru said, without consulting the menu.
I gave it a quick glance. “I’ll take a Reuben, with cole slaw instead of sauerkraut.” I hated sauerkraut. “And an iced tea.”
When the waitress had gone, Pru leaned forward. “Erica, you need to take this seriously.” Her voice was intense. “Nobody ‘plays’ Drew.” She made air quotes. “And he always gets what he wants. Right now, he wants you, and he doesn’t play nice.”
“And you know this how?” I liked Pru, wanted to be her friend, but a lecture from the jilted ex-girlfriend was not what I wanted.
“You’re thinking I dated him.” She pursed her lips. “Never on this planet. But he drove my best friend out of town.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
She sighed, drummed her long, French-manicured fingernails on the table. “Wait.” She nodded toward the waitress, who was headed our way with my iced tea and a glass of ice water in her hands.
Once the waitress had deposited the glasses in front of us and had left, Pru leaned forward again. “Please trust me, Erica. Drew is bad news.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. She sounded like something out of a grade B movie.
“What, he broke your girlfriend’s heart?”
She looked up at me, tears pooling. Then her blue eyes became hard. “No, not that. But Drew Thompson is committed to no one and nothing, not even common decency.”
“If you dislike him so, why do you hang out with him?”
She sat back, her eyes a bit wide. “Oh, you mean the party.” She gave a slight shake of her head. “If I’d known he would be there, I wouldn’t have gone.”
“But you were standing there, talking to him.”
“I’d stopped to talk to Paul when Drew came up.” Her tone was slightly defensive. “And then you and Jules walked over. I didn’t want to be rude and walk away while you were being introduced.”
Suddenly I felt bad for giving her a hard time. She’d driven to Columbia to warn me—I seriously doubted that she happened to be here for other reasons.
Either she was a really good friend of Jules’s or she cared at least a little about me. Maybe both.
I covered her hand on the tabletop and gave it a squeeze. “Don’t worry. I have no intention of falling for Drew Thompson.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Erica
My caller ID read Andrew Thompson.
It was the second time he’d called this evening. I’d ignored the first call, not sure what I wanted to do about him.
But this time I answered.
“Hey Erica, it’s Drew. Would you like to go to dinner tomorrow night?”
No hi, how’ve you been, just diving right in.
I wanted to say no, but somehow couldn’t get the word out. My body was tingling at the memory of his heated kisses after lunch on Saturday.
He took my silence for consent. “Want to meet me at Phillip’s downtown at around six? I’ve got a meeting near there tomorrow afternoon.”
My brain seethed. Why should I drive all the way into downtown Baltimore because it was convenient for him? “How ’bout we meet somewhere in Ellicott City.” My voice was sharper than I’d intended.
Too late, I realized I’d agreed to dinner, without really meaning to.
Oh yes you did mean to, my inner voice pointed out.
“Sure,” he said, ignoring my tone. He named a restaurant.
“Wait...”
But he was already gone.
I dropped my phone on the coffee table. What was the matter with me? When had I gotten so wishy-washy?
No, that really wasn’t the right term. Indecisive would be more accurate. My brain knew I should be avoiding this guy, but my body was attracted to him, tantalized by his dark and dangerous vibes.
Of course I know better than to let it get serious, I rationalized, but why shouldn’t I have some fun with him?
My phone pinged, announcing a text message. I leaned forward to read it.
It was from Jules. Hi. Wanted to let you know I’m thinking about you.
My chest tightened. Dammit! Why couldn’t he get it that we weren’t dating. We weren’t a couple.
What are you then? my pesky inner vice asked.
We’re... we’re friends with benefits, I decided. And friends with benefits didn’t think about each other, at least not in the way Jules was implying.
And one could definitely have more than one friend with benefits. Now I was glad I’d accepted Drew’s dinner invitation.
<<>>
Drew
This time, I didn’t hide the fact that I was following her home.
I think she assumed our goodbye kissing on the porch would take the same course as the previous time. But I stayed in my car as she’d unlocked her door, glancing over her shoulder several times at where I was parked at the curb.
Out of the car and up the walk in a flash, I nudged past her into the townhouse. Her expression was two parts alarm and one part excitement.
Yes, my dear, I’m here to seduce you.
I stopped once we were both inside, turned and kissed her.
Her response was less hesitant than last time. I dug my fingers into her lush, dark hair and deepened the kiss.
Her hands pushed weakly against my forearms even as she melted against me.
I resisted the urge to smile in triumph.
It took about ten minutes to get her into the bedroom, half undressed. I nudged her up against the bed. She sat down hard.
I unzipped my fly. Oh, how I wanted to make her go down on me, but I resisted the urge. No point in blowing a long-term deal for one blow job.
Instead, I dropped to my knees and kissed her, then moved on to the bulge of breast above the top of her lacy bra cup. Licking and letting out fake moans, I pushed aside the bra and ran my tongue over her nipple.
She threw back her head while arching toward me. I latched on and sucked hard. She moaned and pushed her breast against my mouth.
Again, I struggled to resist temptation. I so wanted to take a bite out of that melon.
Instead, I sucked harder, pulling slowly away until only the tip of the nipple was in my mouth. I sucked with all my might.
She let out a little yelp and shuddered, but she was breathing hard.
I made myself lay her gently back on the bed. Continuing to lathe her breasts and torso with my tongue, I removed the rest of her clothing and my own.
I covered her body with mine, nudging her thighs apart with one knee. She spread her legs and moaned. I entered her, no longer trying all that hard to go slow.
I grabbed her hair and yanked as I consumed her mouth with mine.
She shook her head, broke the kiss. “Ow, you’re hurting me.”
I made myself slow, eased up on my grasp of her hair. “Sorry,” I said, not meaning it.
She gave me a small smile.
I plunged deeper.
She screamed as she tightened around me.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Erica
I woke to sheets twisted across an empty bed.
I couldn’t find my panties from the night before so I took a fresh pair from the dresser and grabbed my sexy red robe.
I expected to find Drew in the kitchen, drinking coffee, or maybe even making breakfast. But he wasn’t there. The kitchen tiles were cold under my bare feet.
I went back to the bedroom for my slippers, searching along the way for any sign of a note.
There wasn’t one.
Well, what did you expect, dimwit. If ever there was a love ’em and leave ’em type, it was Drew
Thompson.
I faked a nonchalant shrug for an audience of none. Unless you counted my ego as a presence.
In the shower, I realized that shaking off the sense of rejection was easier than ridding myself of the guilt over Jules.
“We’re not dating,” I said out loud.
The bottle of shower gel made no response.
The doorbell was ringing when I got out of the shower. I hustled to wrap my robe around me—the terrycloth one this time—and ran to the front door.
I must have looked like a wild woman to the deliveryman standing there. “Ms. Burke?” He held out a long, thin white box.
I took the box, and he turned and jogged to the street, climbed into a pink panel truck with a florist’s name stenciled on the side.
Inside the box was a single red rose. No card.
Could this be from Jules?
No, my gut said it was from Drew. I smiled in spite of myself.
Then I shook my head in disgust. How could I so easily forgive his rude, take-what-he-wants attitude.
You weren’t exactly resistant.
I told my pesky inner voice to shut up. But the truth was I’d liked the slightly rough sex.
I’d had good lovers and bad lovers in my lifetime, and some mediocre ones, but all had been polite and basically gentle, even in the height of passion.
Rough was a new experience. My body warmed at the memory.
Mind confused, skin tingling, I went back to the bedroom to get dressed.
.
My bestie called that evening. “So what have you been up to, girl? Any hot men on the horizon?”
“I told you I’m not dating anymore.”
A snort. “Yeah, right.” Amanda White had known me since elementary school, back when she went by Mandy. And I’d already told her about Jules.
There was no fooling her, so I stopped trying. “Actually my current dilemma is too many hot men.”
“Oooh.”
I flopped down on my sofa. It took a few minutes to fill her in on Drew, going back to the Valentine’s Day party I’d already mentioned in previous conversations.
A long pause when I’d finished. “I could make some snide remark about now,” Amanda finally said, “but I don’t think I will. Erica, when are you going to get it that you don’t do casual dating well?”
“I don’t do any kind of dating well.”
“Yeah, but you do casual dating particularly badly.”
“What are you trying to say?”
She didn’t give me a direct answer. “On a scale of one to ten, how much do you like the blond Adonis?”
“Jules? I guess probably an eight, no a seven.”
A bark of laughter. “We’ll say a seven point five then. And this other guy?”
“I’m not sure I’d use the word like with him. It’s more that he intrigues me and he’s better in bed.”
“Adonis is lacking in that department?”
“Oh, no,” I said. “He’s quite good. Fantastic even.”
“So the other guy is even more fantastic?”
I felt heat creeping up my face and was glad this conversation was over the phone, not in person. “Well, not exactly. He’s different, but really, really hot.”
A beat of silence. “Okay, back to the ‘like’ question. Call it intrigue or fascination or whatever, how much do you dig this Drew guy?”
“Um, I’d say around a six.” Point five hovered on the end of my tongue, but I didn’t say it. I didn’t want to admit to liking Drew at all.
Amanda made a noncommittal noise in her throat. I could visualize her shaking her head, curly red tresses swaying. “That’s some improvement, I guess, that the bad boy ranks below the nice guy.”
I let out a nervous laugh. “I’m definitely not romantically interested in Drew–”
A soft snort in my ear. “You’re sleeping with the guy.”
“Actually, it’s more like having sex with him. Even ‘sleeping together’ implies more than is there. He’s just...” I trailed off.
“Intriguing,” she finished for me. “Erica, why are you hooking up with him when you’ve got a nice guy interested in you, a seven point five who’s quote, ‘fantastic in bed?’”
I blew out air. “I don’t know.” I leaned forward and ran a fingertip over the silky petals of the red rose in my mother’s crystal bud vase on the coffee table. “But I’m not ready to choose yet.”
She sighed into the phone. “Okay, I hear ya. But keep in mind one of them might make the choice for you.”
My stomach twisted. I suspected which one it would be.
The one I least wanted to lose.
CHAPTER NINE
Erica
Jules met me at work to take me to dinner, for my birthday.
I was trying hard not to compare the two men in my life, but it kept happening anyway. I couldn’t help but note that Drew didn’t even seem to know it was my birthday. I’d mentioned it in passing last week. He’d made his usual humming noise in his throat, the one I’d learned meant he was waiting for me to shut up so we could get naked.
Jules handed me a dozen roses of various colors—white, pink, yellow, peach.
I was grateful there were no red ones.
Drew had sent me one red rose the day after each time we’d made love. Or had sex. I wasn’t sure what we did qualified as making love. But it was the hottest sex I’d ever had.
Jules was no slacker there still. He drove me crazy with his start at one end or the other strategy. Now I got wet as soon as he kissed my forehead.
He took me to a really nice restaurant. I felt guilty about all the money he spent on me, although I knew he could afford it.
Once we were settled and had ordered, he took my hand and gazed into my eyes. “Ricki,” he breathed out.
I tugged my hand loose and picked up my napkin, made a show of putting it on my lap, even though there was nothing in front of me to spill yet. “I really appreciate you helping me celebrate my birthday, Jules.”
He stared at me. “You don’t like that name, do you?”
“No, no, I like it.” I looked away, chewed on my lower lip. “But I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. Like I said before, I don’t date.”
His face fell but he rallied quickly. “Okay, if you say so,” he said with a chuckle in his voice.
I opened my mouth to say more, then thought better of it. No need to pick a fight on my birthday.
Besides, that’s what I always do, pick a fight.
Dating made me nervous. Relationships so much so, they gave me hives. And so I would sabotage them.
Maybe I should try not to do that this time and see what happens.
There is no this time. We’re not dating.
Okay, if you say so, my inner voice echoed Jules’s comment, complete with the chuckle.
Fortunately, the waiter appeared with our bottle of wine. I snatched up the glass the instant he finished pouring. A few drops actually dribbled onto my fingers as I raised it to my lips and took a hearty gulp.
<<>>
Jules
I stared into space, ignoring my client’s email on the monitor in front of me.
I’m not sure Ricki had even noticed that I used a condom last night, after I’d convinced her to follow me back to my place.
Both the condom and the change of venue were a result of my chance meeting with Drew Thompson earlier in the day. He’d made an offhand comment—a question really—about whether I was still seeing “that Erica” from the Valentine’s Day party, but he hadn’t waited for an answer before changing the subject. That, along with the glint in his eye when he asked, had left me with an unsettled feeling.
I’d seen that competitive glimmer before, when he’d taken a girl away from me in college. I hadn’t been all that into the girl anyway so I’d let it slide, for the sake of harmony in the frat house.
Part of me, the gun-shy-about-relationships part, wanted to let Ricki go too. But most of me didn’t. This time fel
t different somehow and I wanted to see it through.
But I was going to practice safe sex from now on. Ricki had told me, the first time we’d made love, that she was on birth control pills. I’d thought that odd for someone who’d sworn off dating, but I had no desire to pursue the topic at the time, since we were in the heat of things.
Later, the next morning over breakfast I think it was, she’d explained that her periods were very erratic, thus the birth control pills to stabilize things. “With the added serendipity,” she’d said, giving me a flirtatious look, “of allowing for spontaneity.”
With that conversation in mind, I’d slipped the condom on last night, while diverting her attention with my tongue.
I silently berated myself for not using condoms in the first place. But I’d assumed since Ricki hadn’t dated in a while, that she was safe.
But not now, if she was also seeing Drew.
I couldn’t even let my mind think the words, sleeping with Drew.
I was quite sure the selfish bastard was not using condoms, and who knew what STDs he’d been exposed to.
Anger burned in my chest at the thought that he might be so carelessly exposing Ricki to such risks. I had a niggly feeling those were not the only risks involved for Ricki in dating Drew.
The man had a huge dark side. Indeed, I wasn’t sure he had a light side.
I ground my teeth, felt like I might explode at the thought of Drew touching Ricki.
But I knew if I demanded she give him up, see me exclusively, I would lose her. She’d said again and again that she didn’t want commitment. I had to be patient. Give her time to see how wrong Drew was for her, and hopefully she would decide that I was...
Was what? What did I want from Ricki? Where was this thing between us going anyway?
I shook my head, made myself get back to work.
But a few minutes later, I was daydreaming again, about our lovemaking this time. I sat back in the padded leather desk chair where I spent most of my work hours, the corners of my mouth pushing up into a small smile.
I had certainly been patient last night. Ricki had seemed distracted again at first, preoccupied. Slowly but surely I’d worked my way up her lovely calves to the milky white flesh of her inner thighs—kissing, licking, nibbling—and counting slowly, whispering the numbers from one to twenty-nine. The number of years she had been alive on this planet.