“Well, Robert did have a widow’s peak like Eddie Munster.” I fix my eyes on the table, cradling my head in my hands.
“I do wonder sometimes whether Henry has the hots for you or not,” Leticia says. I start choking on my own spit before she pats my back.
“He doesn’t,” I contradict her between coughs as the waitress places a glass of water in front of me.
“Well, that’s good. He’s probably the most unreliable man in the world,” Joan states, waiting for the girls to agree. I shake my head before thanking the waitress for bringing me a glass of water.
“He’s not,” I protest after getting my coughing fit under control. Ginny lifts her hand, but I ignore her and add, “Henry’s always been there for me. Who else would spend hours with me at Waterstones’ while I try to pick a book? Or take long walks in the rain when you lot are home trying to keep warm? Plus, every time a man dumps me, he restores my faith in his gender by being a gentleman and reminding me that not all men are assholes.”
“Please, don’t defend him. He spent two weeks out in Europe getting foreign rights for Cecile Garnot’s books, and he slept with her, her assistant, and a new author that he signed up,” Ginny tells the girls while I ball my fists under the table.
“I’m sure that he would even do a bitch in heat,” Paige states with certainty.
“I would totally do him… Oh, wait, were you talking about a dog?” Joan asks, winking my way.
“You’re terrible,” I grumble, forcing my eyes on the glass, watching the drops of condensation moving down the side of it. “He’s not an object, and if women sleep with him, well it’s not like he’s going to turn them down. I don’t see any of you turning men down when they want to sleep with you. Plus, women are always throwing themselves at him,” I tell them before looking their way. “However, that doesn’t seem to matter because we’re talking about Henry, so we must tear him down,” I add, annoyed before I get up and grab my phone and excuse myself while walking away from the table.
I hold the phone to my ear and wait. My eyes move to the darkening sky, kissing goodbye the soft oranges and purples of the last sunset just as I gather my temper under control.
“What’s wrong?” Henry asks as soon as he picks up.
“Nothing. Leticia convinced us to have dinner with her and I’m bored. What are you up to now?” I ask, watching a couple of tourists looking at the A to Z of London in their hands trying to make sense of where they’re going before glancing at the map over and over again.
“Oh,” he says without emotion. In the background, I hear his muffled voice talking to someone in the room.
“Is this a bad time?” I ask, leaning against the wall while the tourists retrace their steps and look at the street signs once more.
“No, I was just finishing here,” he replies, his tone is guarded, which makes my annoyance flare up.
“I can call later.”
“No, why? Are you going back to male bashing?” he demands, and somehow that annoys me even more than my friends’ stupid misgivings about him.
“No, but if you’re in the middle of seducing someone, I would rather not have to listen to you,” I say, swiping my finger across the phone’s screen to end the conversation before I walk back inside the restaurant.
This isn’t my finest moment, I tell myself as I sit down and look at the menu. The girls talk about the newest clients, two Broadway actors and a Spanish singer, trying to break into the West End. My phone rings, but I glue my eyes to the menu. The incessant ringing makes me reach for my purse before I pick up the phone and glance at the screen. It’s Henry. Without a second thought, I turn it off. Then I drop it in my purse and decide that I need to stop getting annoyed when he’s hooking up with other people.
It’s not like I own him and he doesn’t throw hissy fits when I’m hooking up with someone else.
He’s just my friend, I tell myself again before the waitress comes back to finally take our order. My friend that I enjoy shagging into oblivion.
Chapter Eight
After dinner, I’m thankful that none of my neighbors are out in the hallway or doing laundry when I return home. Otherwise, it would have taken me twenty minutes to walk from the front door in the ground floor to my tiny one-bedroom flat in the attic. I pick up the letters from the table downstairs, nestle them in my right hand, and then play tag with the lights. After punching the switch in the ground floor, I have about fifteen seconds to reach the first floor light switch before the place goes as dark as night.
Once outside my door, I fish for the keys in my purse, wondering why I insist on carrying around such a huge bag. Yes, I need the space for contracts, books, and scripts, but it’s always a pain in the ass when I actually need to get something out of it.
I take a deep breath, placing the letters in the twilight zone — a.k.a. my purse — and then squat on the floor, looking for the keys as my door opens. If it wasn’t for Henry having a key, I would have run away screaming: Intruder! Intruder!
His beautiful eyes are narrowed, his lips set into a hard line. Gosh darn it, I think as I look him over, even when he’s pissed, I can picture him naked.
In hindsight, maybe hanging up on him wasn’t the best idea. I concede inwardly that I shouldn’t have taken out my annoyance at the girls on him. However, I’m not going to apologize. After all, he didn’t tell me that his business trip had also been a self-indulgent-sleep-around-buffet.
“You’re late,” he says, leaning with his shoulder against the door frame.
“Funny, I thought I lived here and I didn’t make plans with you.” I glare at him, before I push past him, and move inside the flat.
“What the hell did I do?” he asks, slamming the door. I make a mental note to apologize to my neighbor about that. Mrs. Quentin will be bitching about it in the morning.
“Nothing,” I answer, dumping my purse on the settee and then moving to the tiny kitchen to grab a bottle of water.
“So, you called me, got annoyed at me, and hung up on me because, nothing.” He follows me into the kitchen. I unscrew the cap and then let my fingers play with it while staring at him.
Why does he have to be so hot? I’m sure that there wouldn’t be these many problems in my life if he wasn’t the man I sleep with and instead he was just my friend. Like Franky… why can’t he be gay?
He arches an eyebrow, his forehead wrinkling as I let my eyes move down his chest. The bastard’s wearing the tightest black t-shirt he could find in his closet. Surely, he visited the gym and boxed before coming around the flat. After all, that’s what he does when we argue, plus he smells of soap and shampoo.
“My eyes are up here,” he says, and I notice the amusement in his voice before I glare daggers his way.
“Why are you here?” I demand to know in a curt tone. His eyes narrow and his mouth returns to a thin line before looking away from me. I take a swig from the bottle of water and then place it on the counter.
“I know you’re on your pe-”
“Oh, fuck you, get out,” I bellow, walking around the counter, and moving fast toward him with every intention of decking him.
I try to push him off the door, but he chuckles in an infuriating way instead.
“Oh, come on, you’re just proving my point, Gracie.” He laughs even harder while I push my shoulder between him and the door.
“Why are you upset with me?” he asks, settling against the door. Even worse, he places his hands behind his head. He looks all cool and collected, almost like he’s lying down on the sand instead of standing in front of me, pissing me off.
“It’s been a long day, and you’re just getting on my last nerve,” I say, pushing the balls of my feet against the floor while I try shoving him off again.
“Have you noticed that you always get cranky when you go out with the girls?” Henry muses before I take a few steps away from him.
“And you’re so relaxed after you’ve gone around Europe sleeping your way to get people to si
gn your contracts,” the words escape before I can stop myself; I instantly regret them the moment they do.
Henry’s eyes fix on me. A look of surprise settles in them before that annoying mischievous glint sparkles across his pupils. He pushes off the door and takes a slow and deliberate step toward me, like a lion ready to pounce on its meal.
I gulp, taking another step back, but he’s undeterred. My back hits the wall behind me and Henry stops inches from my body. I can feel his body’s warmth, but when our eyes meet, his are guarded.
“What do you want, Gracie?” he begs to know in a husky voice.
“N-no-nothing,” I whisper, my heart hammering against my chest as his eyebrow shoots up. All amusement is gone when he presses his forehead against mine.
“There must be something that you want. Otherwise, why would you care?” he asks, his lips inching closer to mine.
“I don’t want a thing, but you should have told me,” I counter, my heart wanting to crawl out of my chest and settle next to his. After pulling my white shirt up, his hand moves to my waist. His fingers caress my skin, sending warm waves down my spine.
“Very well,” his reply is hushed, and the moment we lock eyes my body wants to wrap around him. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but it wasn’t anything special,” he admits, his fingers moving across my stomach and making me quiver at will.
I stutter before clearing my throat. “Fine,” I say with the last of the air in my lungs before his lips capture mine.
Henry’s hand moves up my sides, pulling me closer to him. His teeth tease my bottom lip and when they sink in it, a soft moan escapes my lips. At times like this, I swear that if he were a cliff, I would jump off him willingly. My mind’s blank, no worries, no petty jealousy. Only him.
Another soft moan escapes my lips, and this time he groans before pulling away. “You’re going to be the death of me, Graciela,” he says, his voice charged with want, dragging out every syllable of my name until I can’t think straight.
“I doubt it.” I manage to smirk, looking at him.
“I should go.” He swallows hard. The moment he lets go of me, I take the opportunity to fix my shirt and push the jacket off my shoulders.
“You should,” I agree when he lifts his hand to my cheek and cups it. Hesitation crosses his eyes before he crushes his lips to mine again.
Chapter Nine
After grabbing my phone from the night table and turning off the alarm, I let my fingertips skim my lips, a smile dancing on my face. They feel swollen but I won’t complain. Last night and before Henry finally took his leave, we ended up making out like a couple of teenagers on my bed.
I climb out of the bed when my phone dings, alerting me to a new text message. My forehead creases with curiosity. The message is from Henry.
Dinner tonight at seven, wear something deliciously sexy. XD You’re off your period, we should celebrate accordingly.
“Jerk,” I mutter, pushing my hair away. I rub the sleep from my eyes while walking to the bathroom to take a quick shower.
***
The Tube ride through Central London is packed with delayed trains and what looks like the entire population of England trying to get to work. So by the time I get to my office, I’m running fifteen minutes late.
Instead of stopping to talk to my assistant, I notice that my boss, Leticia, looks busy as a bee. I hurry toward my office to avoid yet another chat about my lack of a relationship or worse, her pre-approved blind date kit has produced yet another guy.
No such luck. By the time I go near my office’s door, I hear Leticia’s voice.
“Hey,” she says and I retrace my steps before walking in her office. Andrew, her secretary, walks out, then stops a few feet away from me. “Mario sent the new contract for your girl… erm, wait, what’s her name?” she asks Andrew, who looks at his notes.
“Candy, the model,” Andrew reads.
“Clark… Candy Clark. That’s awesome,” I say, nodding, then check my watch. “Is Peter still looking for singers? I met this nice guy on the Tube.” Her eyes widen in surprise, and I swear her brain’s analyzing my words. “Not like that.” A roll of my eyes later prompts a smile to settle on her lips. “I don’t pick men up on the Tube,” I huff.
“I’m sorry, hon, but are you sure you’re not a lesbian?”
“Or asexual?” Andrew chimes in.
“Anyway, this guy works in the West End, but he’s resting at the moment,” I explain ignoring Andrew. Even though there’s a smile on my face, in my mind, I’ve punched Andrew at least twenty times. Maybe I need to take a course on anger management and one on ‘how to say no to blind dates’.
“Well, you can always call Peter yourself and ask.” She says, and then looks pointedly at Andrew for him to leave. My gut instinct tells me to run and hide. I’ve seen that determined look in her eyes before, but I stay standing, waiting for her to get it off her chest. She waves for me to move closer and I, of course, oblige. “I wanted to tell you that I have a new candidate, Franky approved,” she enthuses and I try hard to look pleased, even if I’m anything but happy about this.
Franky approved; the words echo in my head. The truth is that he’s probably agreed to whatever in order for Leticia to stop talking to him. And although I trust Franky’s instincts, my dear friend can be as fickle as they come and will agree to anything as long as he’s left alone. He still thinks I should find someone to shag. After all, he insists I’m still too young to settle down. Unlike Leticia, who thinks it’s high time I produce a child, Franky seems to think I have all the time in the world to do so.
When Leticia’s eyebrow shoots up, I notice that I haven’t replied. A simple nod should suffice and feign enough enthusiasm. The thought courses through my mind before moving my head. “Franky approved, wow.” My tepid performance is met with a grin worthy of a standing ovation.
“Well, there’s this party tonight in Mayfair, and there will be a lot of authors, singers, and musicians; also mere mortals. One of those is a very nice guy, Gerrard. He’s Scottish, and he’s got dark auburn hair, and beautiful green eyes. I think you two would hit it off. Think about it.”
“Is Franky going to this party?” I ask, wondering if he and Marc will finally stop being model dog parents and actually hire a dog sitter for the night.
“So, you’ll come, right?” I could kick myself right now, because the right words to leave my mouth should have been no. Instead, I offer hesitation.
“Actually, I made plans with Henry; we’ve not seen each other in what seems like forever,” I lie.
“You can see him tomorrow night, can’t you? Come on,” she presses on as I shake my head.
“You’re such a bully,” I smile, walking to the door, knowing that no matter what my answer will be, she’ll be expecting me tonight.
“Come on, we’ll have fun!” she says before I push the door open and then fish for my phone in my jacket’s pocket and dial Henry’s number.
The chuckle on his end sends my body into high alert before he even speaks. “Can’t stay away from me, huh?”
“I guess I can,” I sass him, shrugging out of my jacket, then placing my bag and jacket on the coat rack once inside my office.
“No, no, no. Gracie, don’t cancel on me,” he fakes a whine.
My tooth cuts into my bottom lip, “Stop being melodramatic, I’m not cancelling; let’s just do this tomorrow. There’s another Loser I need to meet tonight.”
“Another one?” he repeats. “Is there a revolving door in your flat I don’t know about?”
“Fuck you.” I tell him as a smile settles on my lips. “I think they are getting desperate. Between Diana and Bernie trying to set me up with the friends who live here, and Leticia, I’m beginning to think they have a bet. They’re trying to be the first one to find me a man, or a woman. It seems that they’re exploring all the available options.” I whine, and rather than consoling me, he laughs in the most delicious irreverent way.
“Well
if you ever decide to take a woman to bed, make sure to call me. I volunteer to help you with that endeavor,” he says before bursting out laughing.
“Why? You’ll probably fall asleep after the fourth round,” I sass him.
“We should definitely put this theory of yours to the test,” he smirks, his husky voice is full of possibilities, and even though I’ve never entertained the idea of being with a woman, I can’t deny that his easiness with the subject makes me curious about what he would do.
“Henry- I—”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he finally says and his mood has changed. I guess his secretary, the old disapproving woman, has walked in his office. “Don’t cancel on me again.” He drops his voice before adding, “Or I’ll have to do you until you can’t stand up and walk.”
“Henry!” My skin flushes. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
“You better,” he warns before I swipe my finger across the screen and end the call.
Chapter Ten
The drizzle turns into a full storm by the time I get home. Rain continues to come down while I dress, and for a moment, I wonder how flooded the streets will be once it stops. Thunder and later lightning have me reaching for the pretty red and black rain boots, but unfortunately, they won’t go with my pink ensemble. After picking up my large umbrella, I reach for my purse and phone, and then walk out of the house in the direction of the Tube, thankful that the storm has quieted down to a light drizzle.
I walk across the station, reminding myself that Franky and I have not had a proper catch up for two weeks. My job is to blame for some of it, but he and Marc have also been working hard on the application to adopt a baby, and since adopting their dog, they seem busier than usual.
As I arrive at the address, the party’s in full swing. Most of the people have poured out into the street and the private gardens beside the house. They’re drinking and talking as I make my way around the maze of bodies toward the house. Soon, Franky and Marc see me before waving my way.
Henry and Gracie Page 4