Still So Hot!

by Serena Bell

Beside her, Steve cleared his throat, and she turned.

  “I don’t know what happened between you guys, but I think you need to wake up to the fact that he’s crazy about you.”

  For a moment she could only focus on the expanding joy in her chest. Then she remembered and shook her head, and the joy shrank down to a single point of permanent, sharp disappointment. This was Brett they were talking about. Whatever it was that she’d seen in Brett’s face didn’t matter. “Even if it were true, and I don’t necessarily think it is, that guy doesn’t know how to commit. I’ve known him for years, and there isn’t a monogamous bone in his body.”

  “People change.”

  The echo of Brett’s words startled her.

  “I should know. I used to be an asshole. I would have done anything to succeed at one point, and then—” He turned away. “I did things I wasn’t proud of. You know what they were, which is why you leaped to the conclusions you did.”

  People change.

  Brett had been talking about Steve when he’d said that. And he’d been right that Steve’s motives were pure. He’d been right that a person who did something less than admirable was not doomed to repeat the mistake.

  Steve was still talking. “I probably would have drawn the same conclusions you did. At least back then, I know I would have. I was totally incapable of believing that people were anything other than the sum of their greedy impulses.”

  “Do you think that’s who I am? Do you think I’m like that?”

  He made an incredulous face. “Why are you asking me?”

  People change.

  Brett could change. But more to the point, she could change. All those years ago, when she had not been able to make the leap beyond friendship with him, had that been about him or about her? Had she ever really given him a chance? That night after they’d been to Aquarium, when possibility had slipped into reality, had she fought for what she wanted? Or had she turned away, already having decided that it could never work?

  She no longer knew for sure. But she did know that long before that moment, she had failed to trust him or to risk herself. From the moment she’d met him, she’d let her fear that he’d break her be stronger than her faith in him as a friend. She’d held herself so far away that he could never hurt her.

  She, not he, had made sure that nothing real could ever happen between them.

  Even if she’d gone after him, and he’d rejected her, that at least would have been real and honest. If she’d called him on how much his sleeping with Julie had hurt her or told him why, their friendship might very well have continued. Instead, she had walked away without ever risking herself. She had guaranteed that nothing, not even the scraps of their friendship, could survive.

  What the hell had happened to her? To the girl who’d told Brett “I can’t wait to see what happens next?” When had she become such a coward?

  She’d accused him of not thinking highly enough of himself, but it had been her job as his friend to see beyond his games and self-protecting shell, and she hadn’t had the courage to do it.

  Are you with me? Because if you’re not with me, you’re against me.

  Now she saw. From the very beginning, she’d been against him. She’d been against them.

  It hurt her heart to think of the wasted time and possibility. The words that had not even made it into her tight throat but had died in the back of her mind. The kiss she’d conspired to pretend into nonexistence. And now he was out there somewhere believing that he was not worth her trust, when that was the opposite of the truth. She didn’t deserve the second chance he’d given her.

  But maybe she could. Maybe she could still redeem herself.

  People change.

  She took a deep breath.

  Steve was setting aside clips in the workspace. She touched his arm. “Show me that bit again.”

  He glanced over. “Which bit?”

  “The one where Brett looks at me like he wants to eat me up.”

  Steve laughed. “Attagirl.”

  As he pulled up the clip in question, she tried to corral the words hovering in her head. She said them out loud.

  “The one where he looks at me like he’s in love with me.”

  20

  SHE GOT BRETT’S address from a mutual college friend. He lived on the Upper West Side near the park, and she climbed the front stairs to his apartment building with her heart pounding. She didn’t really believe he would turn her away, but she didn’t know for sure. Trusting him to love her didn’t mean she thought he was sitting alone in his apartment pining for her. He could be entertaining another woman. Or out, drowning his sorrows, assuming he had sorrows on the same scale she did.

  She had to do this. That was what it meant to have faith in this. Faith in him. She had to shut out doubts and throw herself headlong into their relationship. What had he said to her on the beach? Love isn’t safe. It’s a disaster. It’s a tightrope walk without a net. You think you can be the net, but what you’re doing is taking all the thrill out of the walk.

  Well, here was the rope, the thrill and the long plunge if she was wrong.

  She’d been standing with her finger poised above the buzzer for a long time, maybe a whole minute.

  “I can’t wait to see what happens next,” said a wry voice behind her.

  She spun. He’d quietly opened the entrance door to the building and was leaning against the wall. He was wearing an olive-green sweater and well-worn jeans, and she wanted to throw herself at him and breathe him in.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded instead.

  “I live here.”

  “Right.” She closed her eyes. “I mean. I don’t what know what I mean.”

  “I think you stole my line. What are you doing here?” He adjusted a messenger bag slung across his chest. No one should look as good as he did right now. She had segued almost instantly from fight-or-flight to flat-on-her-back mode. He had always had that effect on her. Always would.

  “I came to see you.”

  “That’s pretty funny, because I just came from your apartment, where you weren’t, because you were here. Isn’t there a scene in Winnie the Pooh just like this?”

  She nodded. Her heart was beating so hard it hurt her chest. All the words she’d planned and rehearsed had gone right out of her head.

  “I brought Scrabble.” He withdrew his travel board from his messenger bag. It was the same ratty old plastic board they’d played on years ago. She took it, and relief and excitement scrambled free inside her. “I thought I might be able to convince you to play. And then I thought I might be able to convince you to let me stay. And then I thought I might be able to convince you that I’m serious about becoming a better man. I quit my job.”

  “What?”

  “My glitzy job. You were right. I don’t think very highly of myself. I don’t actually trust myself to be good at much besides being eye candy.”

  “You’re very good at being eye candy, though,” she murmured, because she had to do something to distract herself from the sensations inside her, a joy so sweet it hurt. He was doing it. Leaping hurdles and saying screw the consequences. Because of her.

  “Don’t—you’ll get me off topic, and I’ll never get to say what I need to say to you. The point is, you make me want to deserve you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said testily. “Of course you deserve me. If anything, it’s the other way around. I don’t deserve you. I had so little faith in you, I wouldn’t even give you a chance. I might have a little problem with seeing the best in human nature.”

  “Which is really a terrible trait in a dating coach.”

  “It is,” she agreed. “Completely awful. So I’m officially renouncing it and becoming a hopeless romantic instead.”

  “Don’
t do that.” He brushed his thumb over her cheek. “I like you cynical and pissy. And it’ll help you differentiate yourself in the market. ‘Most dating coaches see the best in people—I’ll totally hold all your flaws against you and convince the best matches not to have anything to do with you because you’re a jerk.’”

  “I wasn’t that bad.”

  Now his fingers were moving through her hair, making her shiver. “Just that weekend. I think I brought it out in you. But I want to bring out the best in you, like you do in me. You make me want to be the best man I can be, and no one has ever done that before. I can’t give it up. I’ll never give it up.”

  She was going to cry, and she hadn’t even gotten to the important part. “I’m not doing a good job saying what I came to say.”

  “I think you’re doing an excellent job.”

  “I was supposed to say, ‘I figured out that you’re right. People can change. I’m so sorry I didn’t see it sooner, but I believe you can change. That you have changed.’”

  She had to stop, because the open, wrecked look on his face made her tears come, fast and free.

  “Stop. You’re going to make me cry, too, and you know my masculinity can’t handle that. Come here.” He held out his arms to her, and she walked into them. Then she couldn’t keep crying because it felt too good, and she was very busy trying to collect all her thoughts, and then she wasn’t doing that either because he was kissing her. Hard. His mouth was warm and soft, and his hands moved as though he were doing an inventory, making sure she was still all there.

  He scooped her in his arms and carried her up two flights of stairs, the Scrabble board clutched in one hand.

  “I’m too big for this,” she protested, but she didn’t want to struggle and throw him off balance.

  “You’re not. You’re light as a feather. Do you know one of the things I love about your body? This is thing one of about ten thousand. I love that you are skinny and soft at the same time.”

  “Skinny is not a good word,” she said.

  “No, it’s a really good word. You have the most beautiful cheekbones and collarbones and finger bones—”

  “Finger bones are also not good words.”

  “Whatever. And I love that I can see the way you are made, because it is an architectural marvel. But then you are still so soft, I can bury myself in you.”

  That sent a surge of heat through her, and she turned her face and pressed it against his chest, wanting to bite.

  He set her down, fumbled for his key and unlocked the door. “Come sit,” he said.

  The apartment was small but lovely, with high ceilings and a brick wall with a fireplace and a new kitchen with a granite island and a Viking stove. He gestured to a brown sofa in front of the fireplace, and she sat and put Scrabble on the coffee table. She tucked herself up at one end of the sofa, the way she always had.

  He set down the messenger bag but stayed upright. “I still haven’t said what I came to say, either. I mean, what I went to your apartment to say. Your friend Sandy messaged me the address on Facebook. It was quite the battle. I had to explain a lot of what had happened in the meantime, and even then she was threatening me with bodily harm if I hurt you again.”

  She laughed. “Your friend Carl emailed me yours. He also wasn’t too eager. I didn’t tell him the story, but I did say that things had changed rather radically between us, and there was some unfinished business.”

  “Good to know our privacy is well protected by our friends. Listen, as much as I know you don’t want to hear it, I have something to say to you about Julie.”

  All the levity had gone out of his voice. He turned half away from her and spoke to the kitchen.

  “I went after her because I was scared. I wanted you so much, and that night—oh, my God, Elisa, that night when we kissed? It was the most I’d ever wanted anyone. And not just sex. All that night, all that weird blue light, and I had this crazy sense of possibility that you’d see beyond who I’d been up to that point—”

  Her eyes filled with tears again.

  “That you’d see only who I was when I was with you.” He paced as he spoke and up to that moment he hadn’t been looking at her, but when he said that, he looked right at her. And held her gaze. His eyes were so full of warmth and love that she couldn’t look away.

  “I was buoyant. It was like floating. But then I freaked out. I knew I had nothing to give you except disappointment. But instead of telling you that and begging you to help me be a better man, I did something stupid. I was scared and doing that stupid thing kept you at a distance. That’s why I went after Julie. So I wouldn’t sleep with you. Only—in the end, she wasn’t you. Only the palest imitation. I couldn’t do it. I know you were mad about it, no matter what you say now.” He sat down on the opposite end of the sofa.

  “Hell, yes, I was mad,” she said. “I was—”

  “You don’t have to say it. I broke your heart. I broke mine, too. I convinced myself that I was exactly that guy I thought I was. And then I proceeded to be him. Until the weekend in St. Barts, and you, and—so I get it, Lise. I get why trusting me doesn’t seem like a good bet.”

  “Brett—”

  “You don’t have to trust me all at once. Just a little bit at a time. Start with moving a few feet closer on the sofa.”

  She flung herself across the couch and into his arms. “But I do,” she said. “That’s what I was going to say earlier before you looked at me like that and made me cry. I trust you’ve changed. I trust you. Not a sofa’s worth. Completely.”

  His arms tightened around her. She put her face against the soft wool of his sweater and felt her tension ease. Like he was drawing it out of her.

  “I love you.” He said it into her hair, but clearly. No reservation, no holding back in his voice.

  “I love you, too.”

  He leaned down and kissed her cheek. Her nose. Her upper lip. Her lower lip.

  She moaned.

  “Oh, God, don’t do that,” he said. “I go from reasonably comfortable to having all the blood from my entire body in my cock in like three seconds.”

  She confirmed this diagnosis. It did feel like it.

  “So, Elisa?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you with me? Because, you know, if you’re not with me—”

  She slipped off the couch and settled her own knees between his. “I don’t see why it has to be an either/or thing. I’m against you right now—” she gave an emphatic wiggle “—and I don’t hear you complaining I’m not with you.”

  He kissed her, and they didn’t get around to pulling out the Scrabble board for almost an hour.

  * * *

  MUCH LATER, HE SAID, “I saw you and Celine and Steve on TV. How did you pull that off? How did you convince Celine to show up without telling her what was going on?”

  The couch was narrow, and if he hadn’t had one arm firmly around her, she’d be in danger of slipping off, but neither of them had had the wherewithal to make it to the bedroom. She was okay with that. She was okay with everything.

  “I had Haven tell her they were making an appearance for Broken.”

  “The look on her face. For a second I thought she was going to turn and run. And Steve’s speech was amazing. Did you tell him to say all that stuff?”

  Just tell her exactly what you told me, she’d said to him. Just tell her how she made you feel.

  And he had, and right there on national television, Celine Carr’s eyes had filled with tears. So had Elisa’s, but no one had been looking at her. They’d been watching as Steve kissed their golden child and the two of them beamed into each other’s faces.

  “No,” she said. “It was just what he wanted to say to her.”

  “The footage looked great, too.” He stroked her hair back from her face
and touched her cheek with one finger, the simple gesture of affection sending a tingle through her whole body.

  “Morrow did a good job.”

  “It was nice of you not to attach his name to the host’s description of him as ‘the cretinous videographer who almost ruined everything.’”

  “I couldn’t bring myself to actually rake him across the coals on national TV. Even if it’s possible he deserved it.”

  “You’re a better person than I am.”

  “Uh-uh-uh. None of that.”

  He laughed. “Fine. You’re a better person than most. And a great dating coach. You took an impossible situation and made two matches out of it.”

  “Three,” she said.

  “Three?”

  “Right after the show aired, Steve texted to say he’d gotten a call from a gallery owner who’d been curious about his fine art photography. She offered him a show.”

  “Sweet! That’s definitely three.”

  “I don’t think I can take credit for any of them, though. I think they happened despite me, not because of me. But the world seems to agree with you. My phone has been ringing off the hook ever since that segment aired. I’m going to have to turn half of them down,” she said happily.

  “That’s great, because I’m going to be useless financially. I’m reporting for Truth101, which is essentially an online newspaper. It sure as hell won’t make us rich.”

  “But you like it?”

  “I love it. And I don’t think I would have figured out how wrong the anchor job was for me without your help. Thank you for having faith in me.”

  She nuzzled his cheek. He’d shaved before coming to her, and she indulged herself by nibbling his jawline. “Given how well my business is going, I think you could probably afford to spend the rest of your days as a man of leisure.”

  He kissed her, lingering, teasing, nipping.

  “Mmm. More.”

  He obliged. When they surfaced, he said, “So what are you going to do, about choosing your clientele?”

  “I think I have to specialize. You know, like ‘young professionals’ or ‘mature women.’”