ROMANCE

by Vanessa Rose

  No part of this novel may be reproduced, duplicated, distributed or transmitted in either electronic or print form. Neither may it be stored in a retrieval system, database or in any form without prior written consent from the author.

  Table Of Contents

  Chapter 1: Winding Down

  Chapter 2: The Invitations

  Chapter 3: Every Inch of Dylan

  Chapter 4: Breakfast Out of Bed

  Chapter 5: Family Reunion

  Chapter 6: Tossed Out with the Trash

  Chapter 7: Wanting More

  Chapter 1: Winding Down

  I really needed to stop skimping when it came to shoes.

  Nearly five hours on my feet in the service of Razaproff, an anti-depressant destined for the top of the market on the cusp of a brilliant multi-media campaign, netted me a purse of full of several shrinks’ business cards and an open invitation to pay a call whenever I was next in D.C. or Philly or the Big Apple. Every man in a suit along with several women in suicide heels had eyes that lingered a little too long on my cleavage when the offers were extended, but I took the information and stored it away for future use. I knew the jokes by heart courtesy of the boys in the back room. Elle Evans gets ahead on the back of her rack. And being on her back. Total lie, but let them think it. I was still the top rep in Newport News, and no one ever reached the top without showing a little skin. I knew that’s where it started and stopped. Let them draw their own dirty, wrong-minded conclusions; only meant more money in my bank account.

  Sauntering into the dark bar, I inhaled the smell of whiskey and chalk that seemed to seep through the walls. Two men in linen slacks with their shirtsleeves rolled up, jackets and ties a memory, smacked balls with cues as they sipped foamy beer. Too much like the pricks I’d once tried to charm, and I avoided their eyes as I settled in a stool and signaled for the man behind the bar. Right on cue, a bulging brother flashed me a smile, sweet and non-threatening as he asked me what my pleasure was.

  “Martini,” I said. “Extra dirty. Lots of olives.”

  “Coming right up,” he said.

  As I waited for the drink, my gaze shifted to the far end of the bar. There sat a man with a Pale Ale in his grip and a weary look in his eyes. Narrowing my eyes, I caught a closer glimpse of him as a ray of light passed through the window just over his head.

  Under a sharp blonde crew cut I spied a pair of sad blue eyes and a square jaw. His muscled arm brought the rim of the glass to his lips again, and I watched his throat contract as he drank. The man appeared completely unassuming in his tight black tee and form-fitting jeans, a total breath of fresh air. I imagined what it would be like to top off my long day with a taste of something so sweet.

  “Here you go, Miss.”

  Accepting the martini with a grateful smile and a quick tip, I imbibed the gin and vermouth before spearing an olive and nibbling fast. As soon as I put weight back on my feet, the familiar strain was back, but my legs felt lighter as I walked the length of the bar and sat two stools away from the mystery man.

  “Is that all you having?” I asked as I gestured towards his beer. “Doesn’t really look like it’s going to get the job done.”

  The stranger grunted something unintelligible as he pulled on his beer. I gripped the stem of my glass and took note of the hardness of his hands. No sheen or polish; definitely someone who kept his nails short to ward off dirt. I imagined him a landscaper or spending his days on a construction site. But what in that line of work could cause him to look so sad?

  “Had kind of a hard day myself,” I continued. “I always find that something a little more potent has its pleasures.”

  Leaning back and tossing back another drink, I felt his eyes on me as I set the glass aside, and I flashed him a quick smile as I reached across the mahogany, longing to take hold of his hand.

  “I’m good,” he said as he pushed his free palm under the bar. Looking to his thigh, I noticed his fingers shaking as he hid his hand in his lap. The man’s legs drifted for miles, and something told me that the muscles dotting his arms had nothing on the firmness concealed under his denim. Was he shy? Seemed next to impossible with a body like that despite the lines just starting to cross his cheeks. But shy was sweet, and I moved to the next barstool as I tapped my perfectly manicured nails against the dark surface.

  “So you like your booze light,” I said. “Nothing wrong with that. Looks like you’re almost up for a refill.”

  “Just about,” he said as he took a final swig and set the empty glass aside.

  “Well allow me,” I said as I waved the bartender over and pushed my hand into my purse. “I’ve had a rough day. See no reason why I can’t splurge.”

  As soon as the bartender came back into view, I asked the man to refresh my new friend’s glass and to keep the taps flowing.

  “Sure thing, Miss,” the bartender said. “I’ll just---”

  “I can pay my own way,” the stranger said as he smashed a stack of his own bills on the bar. “This is my tab. No one else’s.”

  “What’s wrong?” I said as I held the confused bartender in place with the force of one palm pressed to the air. “Never had anyone do anything nice for you?”

  As soon as he met my eyes, I felt the cold steel from his stare pushing against my heart.

  “I’m not looking for company,” he said. “So why don’t you…?”

  He stared at my breasts. Maybe it was wrong, but I waited for my cleavage to work its magic. Not like this man I just met would prove anything when it came to the long term, but maybe for just one night-

  “Why you take your act to someone who gives a shit?”

  Stung by the harshness in his tone, I sat up straighter and sipped my drink again. After swallowing and swirling what was left of the gin and vermouth around the bottom of the glass, I flung the contents in his face, remaining olives and all. He started back with a as my martini burned his eyes.

  “Prick,” I hissed. “Like you’d even knew what to with it.”

  As I stepped away from the bar and made a dash for the ladies, I heard the jerks at the pool table whooping wildly as they applauded my efforts and promised me the good time denied by the stranger. In the mood for any man now, I resolved to make a quick detour and get the hell out.

  Splashing cold water on my face, I slowly looked up at my reflection in the smeared glass. My dark cheeks burned under waves of ebony, and I tied my weave over my neck as I took a small step back. Who the hell was he to pass all this up? Not like he had something better waiting for him wherever home was. He looked far too miserable for that. Maybe whoever she was finally got wise and could pull him out of any lineup for the asshole that he was. Good on some imaginary girl for getting out from under before it was too late.

  Resolving to do the rest of my drinking at home and sleep off the hangover late into Saturday morning, I moved back into the door and clutched my hand to my throat.

  “Hey there.”

  With his pool cue still in his hand, the tallest of the pair from the pool table barred my progress down the hallway and curled his finger under his chin.

  “You can buy me something, honey,” he said. “Promise I won’t turn down whatever you’re selling.”

  He licked his lips and started to reach under my skirt. Batting him back with a heavy sigh, I looked him straight in the eye.

  “Really not in the mood, pal.”

  I started to push past him when he grabbed my arm and whirled me back around to face him. As he dropped his cue, I felt his arm tighten around my waist. His breath, soaked in scotch, washed over my face. Wanting to gag, I flicked him back and tried to take my leave, seeing no one behind the bar when the man seized my wrist again and pushed me towards a table in a dark corner.

  “You would do it for him but not for me?” he challenged. “Baby, I’m actually into you.”

  He punctuated the point by pressing through my panties, and I screamed when he started to stroke my pussy.

  �
�The feeling is not mutual!” I cried.

  Kicking him hard between his legs, I tried to find the way out when I stumbled into a broad chest, shuddering as I looked up.

  “You.”

  My stranger from the bar said nothing when he saw the tears in my eyes and looked over my shoulder.

  “You made the right call, man,” he said. “Filthy muff ain’t worth it.”

  Wanting nothing more than to get out of there, I felt the stranger hide me behind his back as his once-trembling hands curled into fierce fists.

  “Watch your fucking mouth!”

  He punched the man’s jaw, and I watched him stumble back, his friend rushing to his aid as the bartender lifted his phone.

  “Do I got to call the cops here?” he asked. “Trying to run a respectable business. Don’t want no trouble.”

  A sideways glance into the stranger’s eyes told me that he was up for anything. It wouldn’t go down well for him, and I threw a few more bills before the bar as I tried to take his arm.

  “No trouble,” I insisted. “A simple misunderstanding.”

  Finding the stranger’s burning ear, I turned his face to mine and whispered quickly.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I said. “I’m… I’m really fine.”

  His stare softened, and I thought I saw the hint of a smile when the fallen man’s buddy leapt to his feet.

  “You’re going to pay for that.”

  Chapter 2: The Invitation

  The smaller man barreled forward and tried to land a blow. But before his fingers made impact, my stranger advanced. I screamed as I felt the little guy about to fall into me, but the stranger wrenched his arms behind his back and surrounded his entire head with a suddenly-steady palm.

  “Only one paying for anything is you, fucker.”

  The stranger… my stranger started slamming the smaller man’s head into the dusty floor. His jaw clenched, and his eyes lost all light as he took on the mask of a man who would kill. Even as my heart buzzed at the sudden show of strength, I still feared for his safety and rushed towards the bartender.

  “Here,” I said as I emptied my wallet. “Can come back with more tomorrow.”

  “Look at you, moneybags.”

  Letting the sarcasm slide, I looked at the bartender with pleading eyes.

  “Just let him leave,” I begged. “Let’s make like it never happened.”

  I wasn’t sure if it was the cash or my eyes that helped him turn the corner, but the bartender pried the stranger from the man’s fallen form and pushed him towards the street.

  “Clear out,” he said. “Don’t come back.”

  The stranger’s breath heaved in his chest, and I was ready to rush after him when I grabbed the bartender’s hand and thanked him.

  “I’d keep walking the other way,” he advised. “Guy seems like trouble.”

  “Yeah, I… you’re probably right.”

  As I slipped through the door, I heard the bartender telling his remaining patrons to take a load off, finish their games of pool, and keep drinking. Any idea of calling the authorities floated away when he offered them one more round on the house. I sighed as I touched my ruffled hair and quickly moved down the street, my heels clicking fast against the pavement.

  Turning the corner, I saw the stranger prone and clutching a trashcan. He gagged into the refuse, and I hastened my pace to move closer and lightly touch his back.

  “Relax,” I said. “I’m fine.”

  He looked at me, concerned, and I started to touch his cheek when he backed away and struggled to his feet.

  “Bet you could have dealt with him on your own,” he said. “But after I was so… whatever with you at the bar….”

  So maybe he did possess a soft heart underneath all those muscles. I lightly touched his arms, startling slightly when our eyes locked.

  “Thanks for that,” I said. “My name’s Elle.”

  “Elle?” he asked with a tilt of his head.

  “Gabrielle really,” I said. “But no one ever takes the time with the whole name.”

  The stranger appeared to ponder the possibility, but he shook his head.

  “They should,” he said. “It’s pretty.”

  I pretty when he stood to his full height--he stood a head taller than me—and made no move to flee as he pressed his fingers under my chin.

  “So are you,” he murmured.

  Nice to hear, even sweeter to feel his hands finally on my flesh. Unfortunately the bartender’s words kept ringing in my ears. Was it better to bow out now and never look back? I felt like he would let me go if I just asked him.

  “I…”

  My eyes drifted towards the bruises pushing though his knuckles, and I drew him close and softly took hold of his hand.

  “You should really ice that,” I said.

  A part of me died when he let me go and looked at his hands.

  “Good point,” he said. “But I think he bar is off limits now.”

  I nodded but still I pressed my free palm to his flushed cheek.

  “I’m… I’m just like a few blocks up,” I said. “Can’t really mix a drink, but I have ice in the trays.”

  His mouth curled into a smile, but he resisted when I pulled him down the street, my eyes focused straight ahead.

  “Someone should look after you,” I said. “Let it be me.”

  I turned the key in the lock and lead him up a steep staircase. As soon as my door came into a view, I reached for his hand again and started to guide him forward when he pulled back and shook his head.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “For what?” I asked. “Isn’t every man that stands up for my honor?”

  He smiled, and the lure of his lips brought me back to his face when the he turned his head toward mine.

  “Don’t sell yourself short,” he said. “It… that wasn’t what you had in mind, right?’

  I nodded as he touched my cheek, my eyes lost in his blue pools, and I sighed as his hand moved through my hair.

  “You got a name?” I asked.

  “Dylan,” he said. “I… it’s just Dylan.”

  Just Dylan was enough for the moment, and I drew closer.

  “You can call me Gabrielle,” I said. “If…”

  Losing the words when he stroked my sides, I met Dylan’s mouth and accepted the heat of his kiss. His tongue played around mine, and I clasped him close as I kissed his nose.

  “If you want to stay…”

  Dylan seemed to hesitate in my arms, and I shook my head as I pulled him into my apartment.

  “Just so I can patch you up,” I insisted. “After that…”

  Unable to stand the thought of what that would mean, I shook my head and guided Dylan to the couch. Pushing a few magazines to the floor, I sat at this side and examined his fingers. Not that I wanted it to come to this, but it was sweet to see him so fearless, and I kissed the space surrounding his short nails and lightly patted his cheek.

  “I… I’ll get the ice.”

  Wobbling towards the tiny kitchen on shaking legs, I slammed the ice trays to the counter and let the cubes fall into a loose towel. Ice in hand, I resumed the seat next to him and tried to calm the swelling. He groaned when the ice touched his hand and turned his chin to his chest.

  “I… it wasn’t just because you weren’t sweet,” he said.

  As I waited for him to continue, Dylan swiped the ice away and grabbed my cheeks.

  “It’s because I’m bad news,” he said. “I would have let you go on your way if…”

  The possibility of what could have happened swirled all around my mind, and I started to hang my head when I found his eyes.

  “Maybe I’m glad that’s how it went down,” I said. “Feels kind of nice having you here.”

  Dylan offered no resistance as I continued to bathe his bruises. These were hands that seemed ready to kill just a few moments ago, and I imagined what else they could manage when he drew back and touched my lips.

>   “You… you should be careful what you want,” Dylan said. “This will only feel good for a second.”

  “Are you sure?” I challenged.

  Quieting him with a quick kiss, I mounted him and moved my lips down his neck as he moaned. The tone in his breath asked for more and I obliged, lowering his fly as I pushed my hand into his jeans.

  “Not so sure,” I said, teasing, as I started to pull his t-shirt over his head. I sighed at the sight of the stranger’s chest, every muscle in just the right place, and kissed his mouth as he pressed me into the cushions, starting to undo my blouse as he kneaded my breasts.

  “Shit,” Dylan said. “Neither am I.”

  He tried to talk, but nothing but a soft sigh hit my face as he leaned closer to take my mouth. My lips were eager to absorb his kiss, and I moaned at the feel of him consuming me, out tongues battling until I felt sure that I was the victor.

  “Bet you’d let me buy you a drink now,” I said.

  Dylan stayed silent as I grabbed his back and pressed my nails into his tight skin. His wince made me want him more, and I spread my legs, collapsing into the cushions when he suddenly lingered over my face and looked at my blouse. His fingers moved slowly around the buttons, and as soon as he had my flesh unfurled, I expected the knowing leer or a satisfied smirk.

  “I should have,” Dylan said. “Anything in my power to keep their hands off you.”

  He tenderly touched my face, and I basked in the heat pouring from his palm as Dylan kissed my eyes and moaned.

  “But I… I got to you in time,” he said.

  Nodding into his face, I nuzzled his nose.

  “Just like a hero,” I said. “Where’d you learn all that?”

  Dylan started to speak when he fell back with a heavy sigh and held his face in his hands.

  “Don’t ask me that.”

  Despite his hidden face, I needed to know more, to see more, and I gently brought his eyes back to mine.

  “Dylan?”

  His face was wracked with sweat and anguish. I dipped lower to kiss his pain away when he spun his arm around my waist and held me right to his side.