Frayed

by Kim Karr

  “I get it. I guess. So, who are the guys who carried the empty pans to your car?”

  “Matt and Dino? They work for me when I need help.”

  “The taller one, I think he has the hots for you,” I tease her.

  Her eyes dart to mine. “We’re just friends. He’s not interested in me.”

  I nod, thinking she must be blind if she doesn’t see it. “So you don’t have a boyfriend?”

  She bites her lip. “No. I wouldn’t have . . . well, you know . . . if I did.”

  “I do know.” I give a low laugh, trying not to growl at the visions her words elicit.

  She drops her gaze and her hair falls across her face. “Do you have any specific fantasy you’d like fulfilled?” she asks. “Working girl, sex slave, nurse?”

  Her words come out fully charged, arousing me instantly. Fuck me if my cock doesn’t start to throb beneath the denim of my jeans. But as I sit here looking over at her, my answer on the tip of my tongue, the reality of it all comes crashing down on me. I suddenly see through the curtain of red. She’s trying to be who she thinks I want her to be. Just like her job. She’s doing what she thinks she should do. And I don’t know if I’m insulted or flattered, but I do know the games are over.

  My words come out in a biting tone. “What if that’s not what I’m looking for?”

  Her brow creases with tension as her eyes lift back up to my face. “What do you mean?”

  “What if I want more than a game and a quick fuck in a secluded location?”

  “Well, that’s not what I’m looking for. I told you that.”

  “What are you looking for?”

  She shrugs. “Not something I know will never work.”

  “How do you know that if you’re not willing to see what happens?” I try not to sound insulted.

  “Come on, Ben. We both know the only thing that will work between us is sex.”

  “Well, shit, I guess you have it all figured out. Okay, then, I choose the john. Why don’t you go on into the bathroom and I’ll be in in a minute? Just tell me how much up front.”

  She gapes at me in disbelief.

  “What? You asked. I’m telling you. No need to finish dinner. Let’s fuck and get it out of our systems—for today anyway.”

  She shrugs again with clear disappointment. “I’m not fucking you here.”

  “Good, then. Can we finish our dinner and our date?”

  “Are you testing me?”

  “No. I’m trying to show you that maybe there is more and maybe you could at least give me a chance before you make assumptions about me.”

  “Okay, then, so if sex isn’t the only thing you’re after from me, how about we start over?” There’s a strange twinkle in her eyes that looks a lot like a challenge.

  “There’s nothing I’d like more,” I say, suppressing the urge to reveal the satisfaction I feel at her words.

  “As friends only,” she adds as if it just occurred to her.

  I try not to let my jaw drop. Obviously she thinks I can’t go without sex. She doesn’t know me as well as she thinks she does. “Fine. Friends only.”

  “Since we agree, I think we need to set some guidelines.”

  “Guidelines?” I raise an eyebrow in challenge.

  She nods and her hair bounces effortlessly over her shoulder with her movement. “Yes, guidelines.”

  “Do you set these guidelines with all the men you call friends? Matt? Dino?”

  “No. But I haven’t slept with them either.”

  “Okay, then.” It’s easy to agree because I’m beyond relieved to hear that.

  She eats a few bites and I watch her, waiting to hear these guidelines, mostly because I’m intrigued.

  “Are you going to tell me what they are?” I finally prompt.

  She pats her lips with her napkin. “Oh yes, of course. One,” she says, holding up her thumb, “we can be friends as long as we keep it between us.”

  I guess I understand. Only two people in my life know I’m interested in S’belle, and I got all kinds of warnings from them. But really I want to laugh that I’ve become a dirty little secret.

  “Two.” She holds up her index finger. “We will not talk about my brother or his wife.”

  She licks the sauce off her finger when she’s done speaking—and if she only knew how turned on I am watching her. This friends thing might be harder than I think. But I keep quiet and don’t argue. And besides, I have no intention of discussing my ex-fiancée and her husband with her anyway.

  However, I do have to stop her before she moves on.

  “Red, you can say Dahlia’s name. I’m fine with it and I think she’ll be fine with us as well.” I assume S’belle already knows Dahlia and I have talked and that she’s come to terms with the fact that I cheated on her with S’belle in college.

  She shakes her head fervently. “I mean it, Ben. My family is not to know.”

  I hold my hands up. “Okay, okay. I get it. What else?”

  When she puts a third finger up and it’s her middle finger, I can’t contain myself. I don’t want to appear immature, but she is being so serious—setting guidelines for a friendship that we both know is much more than that. I can’t hold back as laughter escapes my lungs and I have to rest my hand on my stomach to try to stop myself.

  She looks over at me before setting her hands on the table and pushing up. “You’re so immature,” she huffs.

  “Wait, go on, I’m good. I’m sorry.”

  She narrows her eyes at me. “I’m not joking around. I just got my life on track and I can’t be derailed.”

  Okay, so again I’m going to be the bigger person and not take offense, but why does she think I would derail her life? I run a hand through my hair as I consider how to respond. “I hear what you’re saying.” I bring my hand down and rest it over hers on the table. “But, Red, you and I both know a friendship-only relationship isn’t going to be easy.” I inch forward and close my fingers around hers. Sparks ignite between us, and any anger I might have been feeling dissipates.

  She pulls her hand away after a few seconds, but her trembling body tells me she feels what I feel. “And three, no touching,” she says quickly. Almost as though, if she didn’t say it right, then she would change her mind. She goes on to add to her list that we can go out but we will meet each other in public places only.

  I have to commend her; she’s tough. But I can do this. I can see through it. She wants me to prove to her that I’m looking for more. And I will. Who knows? It might even be fun. For sure, it will be a challenge.

  She bites her lip and returns my stare. She’s nervous. I shake my head and draw in a deep breath. “I know you better than you think, you know.”

  And although I’m not at all sure that her guidelines are realistic, I see them as her security blanket and for that reason I decide to accept them . . . for now.

  She drops her eyes again.

  “Red, look at me. I know you bite your bottom lip when you’re nervous. I know you’re smarter than you like people to know. And I know that I’d like nothing more than to prove to you that I can be your friend. So I’ll agree to take it slow, but I can’t agree to the no touching.” My eyes skim her face and fall slowly to her chest before rising back up. The tension builds between us as the evidence of her arousal spreads across her chest in the form of a flush.

  She stares at me for a while before speaking. “It’s all or nothing,” she says, her tone lightly squeaky.

  I inhale a deep breath. “Lucky for you I’m an all-or-nothing kind of guy.”

  Her eyes sharpen and she starts to sputter in a way that makes no sense. “So, um, is that a yes, a no . . . ?”

  I’m pretty sure I’ve flustered her. I sit back in my chair and try to figure out what we just agreed to, because like her I have no fucking idea. Then finally I give her a pointed stare. “What happens to your guidelines when you change your mind about only being friends?”

  She swallows. “I don
’t see it going that far,” she says firmly.

  I’m okay with letting her think that . . . for the time being.

  CHAPTER 10

  I’m Ready

  Bell

  Today is Monday, and with no events until Friday I need to get to the office on time. Maybe if I pull the covers over my head, time will reverse and give me another hour of dreaming. No such luck, I know. I stretch and stifle a yawn before swinging my bare feet down onto the hardwood floors. This morning feels particularly cold for California in October.

  I pad to the bathroom and blast the hot water, brushing my teeth while I wait for it to warm. By the time I finally slink into the shower, the small bathroom has already filled with steam. If only the water could knead away all of my tension, but with a low-pressure shower and so many knots, my chances are slim. I don’t know what I’m doing with Ben anymore. How could I have thrown a friends-only relationship out there last night? First of all, that’s not what I want and second, I should stay away from him. And what was he doing accepting my challenge? What if this fortifies our relationship instead of destroying it?

  No, that won’t happen. Chances are he’ll never call me again after last night anyway. I reach for the shampoo and scrub my head before conditioning. I skip the shaving—no need for that and I’m the only one to blame. Rushing around, hoping to put some distance between myself and my thoughts, I concentrate on getting ready. I slide into a pair of comfortable underwear and a no-frills bra, pull a dark gray jersey knit dress over my head, and slip into a pair of black boots, skipping the hose. I run to the kitchen to check the time and decide to go light on the makeup to have time for Starbucks. I dry my hair into a sleek curtain, swipe some blush on my cheeks, a little lip gloss and mascara, and I’m ready to go.

  With my leather jacket in hand I grab my keys and rush back to my room for my phone. I hear the beep from it before I even cross the threshold—two missed calls. One from my mother and the other from Ben. I head toward the door, thumbing to my voice mail and listening to his first.

  “Look, I thought we could maybe go out tomorrow night with Aerie and Jagger. Friends do that, right?” A few seconds of soft breathing. “Go out with other friends, I mean. Just to clarify. Let me know what you think. In the meantime I’ll plan something.”

  I try not to stumble down the flight of stairs while I listen to the message. I play it again as I walk through the courtyard, this time absorbing the sound of his voice. Again I wonder, what was I thinking last night? Spending more time with him was just going to make this harder.

  I listen two more times before moving on to my mother’s message. She was just checking on me and wanted to know if I was interested in coming over for dinner tomorrow night. While I walk to my car I call my mother back to tell her I can’t make dinner—that I’m having dinner with a friend. I just have to find a way to make sure Jagger doesn’t tell my mother who the friend is and Aerie doesn’t tell Dahlia either. Things are already getting messy. This is exactly what I didn’t want. I should have just said no.

  My phone rings as I circle the street looking for a close parking place. Working in West Hollywood has its advantages and disadvantages, and parking is definitely a disadvantage. I don’t even look at the screen as I hit ANSWER on my steering wheel.

  “Hi there.” Ben’s voice exudes seduction.

  “Hi,” I manage in a much more friendlike tone.

  “Did you get my message?” His voice is low and sexy.

  “Friends don’t talk to friends like that,” I blurt out.

  “Like what?” He laughs, and the sound is almost like a caress that wraps around my bare legs and up my dress like a gust of wind.

  “Sounding like sex.”

  He laughs even louder. “No one has ever told me I sound like sex, but I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “You’re doing it again.”

  “Is this better?” This time his voice is deeper, richer, but it still sounds velvety smooth to me and full of promise—promises I’ve taken off the table.

  “Yes,” I agree because I think that even if he sounded drunk, exhausted, or disoriented, I’d still feel the dampness spread between my legs from his voice alone.

  “Good. Okay, then.” A soft chuckle escapes his throat. “Tomorrow night I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  “I’ll meet you,” I insist.

  “Red, that’s ridiculous.”

  “Ben, I’ll meet you or I’ll pass.”

  “Fine, I’ll let you know where.”

  “Okay. I have to go before I’m late for work.”

  “See ya, Red,” he says, and hangs up.

  “Bye, Ben,” I breathe over the empty line.

  I find a spot a little farther away from the office than I’d like and park. Grabbing the tray of coffees, I walk fast and pull open the showroom door. I look around in shock. It’s a complete mess. Walls are down, drop cloths are everywhere, and Tate is leaning against my desk with his arms crossed. His face is unreadable. Tall, dark hair, suave, and always put together, he’s a man of style and confidence, but he’s also very self-absorbed and, as Xander says, a bit of an asshole.

  I stop quickly to drop a coffee off to Josie. “Good morning.”

  Her back is to Tate, so she mouths, “Thank you. Piss-ass mood,” while she rolls her eyes. I pass her desk and approach Tate with apprehension. I want to look at my watch, but it stopped a long time ago and pulling my phone out would be way too obvious.

  I raise the tray. “Coffee.” I offer it to him with a smile.

  He straightens and his suit hangs perfectly, tailor-made, I’m sure. He looks at his watch before taking the coffee and then smiles. “How’d you know I needed this?”

  “Intuition.”

  “Or ass-kissing.”

  I shrug and let that pass without commenting on it. “What’s going on in here?”

  “Time for some renovations. The place needed a pick-me-up. I’m thinking of trading the Harrods look for something more Vera Wang.”

  “So you’re trading the black-and-white toile for platinum modernism?”

  “Exactly.” He grins and raises his cup. “I knew I hired you for a reason.”

  I toss my purse in my desk drawer and take a seat.

  He walks toward his office and then turns. “I’ll be out of town until Friday. We have a new client coming in on Thursday that I’d like you to take care of, so be on time.”

  “Sure, who is it?”

  “Romeo Fairchild, the governor’s son. His fiancée is a wreck and he wants us to handle the entire wedding.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “He wants the event to take place the day after Thanksgiving,” he says, and his grin is lascivious.

  Yeah, he can be a bit of an asshole.

  I watch him slam his door and catch Josie’s glare. She averts her eyes to the break room and stands, heading that way. I nod and wait a few minutes before taking my coffee and joining her. The break room doubles as a meeting spot when the conference room is taken, so it’s decorated to the nines—bright orange focal wall, dark wooden table, white leather armchairs, and a large vase filled with artificial birds-of-paradise adorning the corner. I close the glass door behind me and take a seat, sipping my coffee while Josie stares at me.

  “What?” I ask.

  “There’s something different about you.” Her eyes flicker over me.

  I roll my eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

  “Oh, that’s the pot calling the kettle black.”

  I laugh. She’s right. I usually am up and down with Tate’s moods, but today I didn’t let him bother me and it paid off. “So, what spurred the décor change?”

  “Don’t change the subject. Now spill it. Who were you talking to that got you all hot and bothered the other day?”

  “I was not hot and bothered.”

  “Oh yes, you were.”

  I smile. “Well, there’s this guy I’ve known for a while. The thing is, we have a sor
did history and I didn’t think getting involved with him was a good idea.”

  “Did you fuck him?”

  “Josie!”

  She twirls a piece of blue hair around her finger. “Well, did you?”

  I don’t answer and let my silence speak for itself.

  “Hey, if he’s good in bed and gives you that glow, I say screw the rest.”

  I laugh. She makes it sound so easy—if only she knew.

  • • •

  Acabár isn’t that far from my apartment. In fact, it’s even on Sunset, so I decide to walk. The two days since I’ve seen him have felt more like two weeks and I can’t wait to see him again. The sign is in my sights when I see him walking my way and smile broadly. White button-down shirt, slightly faded jeans, black boots, and that smile that makes the apex of my legs pulse. His mop of shaggy blond hair is disheveled and my guess is he rode his motorcycle—as if he’s not hot enough, visions of him riding his bike only send my body into overdrive.

  “Hi,” I say, trying to keep my voice even.

  His eyes sweep me from my open-toed pumps, up my tight leather pants, right through my sheer silver top, to my straight hair with a few carefully placed waves. “Hi there,” he says, and a slight growl follows his greeting.

  I labored a long time on what to wear—casual, businesslike, or dressy, but in the end decided on sexy.

  “You didn’t have to meet me outside,” I say.

  Before I can move back, lips land on my cheek. My mouth falls open at the sudden scorching heat between us and I stare at him, unable to speak.

  His eyes drop and he shoves his hands in his pockets, but his lips quirk up. “Friends wait for friends. Friends kiss each other on the cheek.”

  He’s pushing it, but I secretly don’t mind it at all—not that I’d let him know that.

  I push his shoulder back. “I don’t think friends let their tongue leave their mouth during a slight peck on the cheek.”

  He shrugs. “So I have a few things to learn.”

  I nod in the direction of the stretch of sidewalk leading us to the restaurant and smile. “Come on, let’s go.”