Off Limits

by Jules Barnard

  His gaze takes in my clamp on the sheets. “Good morning. Everything okay?”

  “Yes, but”—I peer around the room—“how did we end up here? I’m pretty sure I was sober when I visited you this afternoon, so…”

  “Yesterday afternoon.”

  Shit, it’s morning?

  I shake my head. “I couldn’t have passed out.”

  He smiles. “You were tired. I carried you here.”

  Memories of the most amazing orgasm flutter through my mind. He did that to me. Sapped me of all energy and a little piece of my soul.

  “And I didn’t wake up?”

  He shakes his head, his gaze skimming over me again. Only this time, heat emanates from those eyes. “Are you still tired?” The question is addressed cautiously, as if he’s trying to be sensitive to my needs—but the man behind the question appears ready to pounce, evidenced by the massive erection building beneath his towel.

  This is dangerous, this attraction. I should be careful.

  I shake my head, and he walks over, sliding off the towel to the side of the bed. Muscles and long limbs, heat, and alluring, clean male scents smack my senses silly. He pulls the sheet from my body and eases down beside me.

  Goose bumps pepper my flesh. My hands go clammy. I’m eager to touch and be touched. I want to kiss his mouth, the lids of his eyes, his temples—the place over his heart.

  I’m in so much trouble.

  “Where the hell have you been?” my brother asks, as I walk in the front door after finally prying myself from Jaeger’s bed.

  It was not easy. The man persuades. I honestly think he could have kept at it all day. Whatever happened to recovery periods?

  Gen looks over from the kitchen. She’s actually awake, eyes alert, which is proof of how late in the afternoon it is.

  “I stayed the night at a friend’s house.”

  Gen’s eyes widen briefly. My brother’s frown deepens.

  “Cali, if you’re going to hook up, answer your damn phone,” he says.

  “Oh my God. You’re staying with me. I don’t need to check in with you. And how do you know I stayed with a guy? I could have been with a friend.”

  “None of your friends are in town—”

  “I’ve made new friends.”

  “—and you’re flushed. Post coitus flushed.”

  Fuck! My lips pinch together. I storm into the bedroom and close the door, taking a deep breath.

  Leave it to my biologist brother to notice and technically define afterglow.

  A knock sounds a moment later. “Cali? Can I come in?” Gen says.

  I pull my hair into a bun, open the window, and fan myself, scraping together the remains of my dignity. “Come in,” I say.

  She shuts the door behind her and sits on the bed. She looks down at her hands twisted in her lap. “I know we haven’t talked much. I’ve been working and you’re going through a hard time. I feel like I haven’t been there for you.”

  Gen has known every guy I’ve kissed since we met. She’s never learned about something secondhand, and though it seems right to keep what’s between me and Jaeger private, the strain in our friendship is obvious.

  I sit across from her. “That’s how I feel. Like I haven’t been there for you.”

  She smiles bleakly. “You have. You’re the strong one. I’ve pulled away, because I—well, I want to be strong. It’s in me…”

  “Of course you’re strong.”

  She shakes her head. “No, you say what’s on your mind and speak up for yourself. I want to speak up. I don’t want to be afraid anymore.”

  Gen is reserved and less outspoken than me—most people are—but I didn’t know she’s afraid. “What’s going on?”

  She cradles her elbows and leans into herself. “You know how I don’t talk to my mom?”

  I nod. The topic of her mother doesn’t come up unless I pry it out of her, and even then, I get nothing substantial.

  “I won’t blame my mom for the way I am and the choices I’ve made, but some of the hang-ups I have are because of our relationship. It’s… unusual. But that’s not the point. The point is, I don’t want to be afraid anymore.”

  She tucks a dark lock behind her ear. “There was an incident a couple of weeks ago at Blue. One of the managers forced his hand under my shorts and touched me. He would have done more if someone hadn’t interrupted. I’m afraid to say anything to the casino. I’m worried that what happened to you—with you getting fired and all—will happen to me. There are rumors—”

  I wave my hands frantically. “Wait, wait, what? Jaeger mentioned something about a jerk touching you. He didn’t say it was one of the executives, or what he did.” My mind spins, bits and pieces coming together. “Who was it, Gen?”

  “Some of the executives hang out in my bar after they get off work. One of them asked me to serve a small group he was hosting. He took advantage—put me in an uncomfortable situation.”

  “Who was it?”

  “Drake Peterson.”

  Shit, shit.

  “I knew I shouldn’t have gone up there alone, but I wanted the extra money—”

  I shake my head. “This is my fault.” I could have warned Gen about Drake if I’d told her what he did. “Drake took me home the night we went to the club and came on too strong. Jaeger showed up and convinced him to leave.” Would have beat the crap out of him had he stayed.

  Confusion and concern war on her face. “I didn’t know… but this isn’t your fault. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I rely on you to fight my battles, when the reality is that sometimes it’s my fault I get into situations. Or maybe I make myself a target.” Her brow furrows and she clenches her fists. “I used poor judgment with Drake. And God, Cali, so did you. What were you thinking, going home with him?”

  “I wasn’t. And I already heard the parental lecture from Jaeger.”

  Her eyes narrow, scanning my face and neck—very likely taking in the post coitus flush, as my brother so elegantly put it. “Were you with Jaeger last night?” she asks gently. I nod, and she shoves my knee playfully. “Next time, text or something. We were worried.”

  No animosity fills her expression, and that’s a relief. I trusted what Jaeger said about them, but you never know. Gen could have hidden her feelings for him. I did.

  The not-calling thing was bad. I would have called if I hadn’t passed out from hot, mind-blowing sex.

  “So what are these rumors you mentioned?” I say, forcing my mind off Jaeger, where it’s determined to drift, and back to our conversation.

  “People have asked me why you got fired.”

  That makes it sound so awesome. “Go on.”

  “There’s a rumor one of the execs has it in for certain people.”

  “That’s pretty much what they said when they let me go, only subtly. It’s done, Gen. I’m not going back.”

  “Right, but… if this has happened before—”

  “From Drake?”

  She stills. “Drake got you fired?”

  I shrug. “I assumed. It happened after I rejected him. And Jaeger, well, Jaeger made sure he remembered it.”

  I already suspected Drake had me fired. Hearing what he did to Gen, the way he threatened me when I went in to see her—and saw Jaeger comforting her. That must have been right after Drake touched her.

  He’s horrible. And he seems to have a firm grip on management. They fired me for no good reason, simply because he told them to. I don’t care anymore about my old job, because I’m moving on, but I’m worried about Gen.

  “Look, Gen, this is bad. No matter what you do about Drake, there could be repercussions. You have to decide what’s best for you. As much as I like to believe differently, I don’t have all the answers.” I press my fingers to my eyes and sigh. “At the moment, I’m not sure I have any answers.”

  “You’re right.”

  I look up, because ouch.

  She sees my expression. “No, not that. You’re smart, Cal
i, and you usually have good ideas, but I need to make my own choices. I can do this. I already decided my pride wasn’t worth losing my job.”

  “You’re staying on? Without telling anyone what happened?”

  She nods. “I am for now. I’ll go to management if Drake so much as lifts a pinky toward me, but I want to play this by ear. He got you fired and I don’t doubt he’d have me fired too. And I sort of need my job.”

  The idea of Gen staying at Blue after what Drake did to each of us scares me. What if he touches her again, or worse? She shouldn’t have to hide sexual harassment in order to keep her job. That’s horrible.

  But I’m finished telling Gen what to do. She’s stronger than she knows. At least she’s doing what’s right for her and not what others think she should do. It’s more than I can say for the job choices I’ve made these last few years.

  “Hey.” She walks around the edge of the bed and sits beside me. “I’m glad we’re talking again.” My back loosens and I lean into her, resting my head on her shoulder. “No matter what happens, it’s always ten times worse if I can’t talk to you.”

  “Ditto.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Out in the backyard, I draw the last shape on my sketch. It’s a scene of a rowboat on the shore of the lake with the sun rising in the background. The water is made of squiggly circles and, from the corner of my eye, appears to move.

  I’m calling my drawings sketches instead of doodles after I spoke to a professional artist yesterday. She told me I need to approach my work like a business. Apparently, doodles isn’t a professional term. The jury is still out on whether or not I believe I’ll thrive with an art career.

  For the first time in my life, I’m not confident I’ll succeed. It’s scary, yet surprisingly freeing. I’m not pursuing art because I should, but because I really enjoy it and it makes me happy.

  Last night, I went online and signed up for an art class at the community college, as well as a CAD course. I learned during one of my midnight Internet searches that some of the patterned drawings I’ve made could be used to create textiles—who knew? And CAD is a requirement for fabric art.

  Whorls of heat rise from the cement patio in the late morning sun. It’s only eleven and already I’m sweating in my pajama bottoms and bikini top.

  My phone buzzes. I dig it out from where it migrated beneath my thigh on the lounge chair. My smile grows a mile wide when I see who it’s from.

  Jaeger: Dinner this evening?

  Cali: Sure.

  Jaeger: I’m taking you to Tao. Plan accordingly. I’ll pick you up at 5. I have something I want to show you.

  Immediately, my mind wanders into naughty territory. But he wouldn’t plan that and then expect me to be presentable, would he? Tao is the best restaurant in town.

  What to wear? I pick up my sketch and pad barefoot back into the house. It’s quiet for once. Both Gen and Tyler left early for various reasons.

  Shoving the hangers around in my closet, I find nothing that won’t embarrass me in a nice restaurant. I have a couple of hours to spare before my date with Jaeger. I’ll swing by the local shops and see if I can find a new top on my limited budget.

  My financial reserves are dwindling, but I don’t have a fifty-thousand-dollar annual tuition fee to worry about anymore. I’ll need a job to pay for living expenses and the classes I signed up for, but I’m optimistic that won’t be a problem with my work experience from Blue.

  Later that night, I slip on heels, black pants, and a short-sleeved, light blue blouse with a crisscross back that I found on sale at my favorite boutique. The color offsets my hair and highlights my eyes, and the front dips low. It also shows a respectable amount of cleavage, except I’m wearing a push-up bra, so the effect is just shy of obscene. I feel a slight twinge at spending money when I don’t have a job, but now that I have a plan, I’ll start looking for work straight away.

  I walk into the living room, where Gen and Tyler are fighting over the remote.

  “You’re here rent-free!” Gen says. “You don’t get control of the remote too.”

  “We’re not watching What Would William Pelt Do? I might as well de-ball myself right here.”

  Gen lifts a finger, her eyes closed. “A—that’s gross. B—William Pelt is a hockey player. He’s an athlete. You love sports!”

  Tyler looks to me in exhaustion.

  “Leave me out of this,” I say. “Gen, if he doesn’t let you watch the show, we’ll Netflix it later. William Pelt is hawt.” Not as hot as Jaeger, but then again, no one is.

  “Tyler,” Gen singsongs, “if you let me watch this, I’ll make you popcorn.”

  His hand darts out and he tickles her under the arm. She screams, and he grabs the remote while she’s disabled. “Dude, you’re gonna have to offer more than popcorn to get this back.”

  Gen glares at him, rubbing her armpit. Tyler’s tickles hurt like hell. He burrows deep. “You have the mental maturity of a sixteen-year-old. How do your students take you seriously?”

  “I’ve got skills to pay the bills,” he says, and flips through channels.

  “I take that back. You’re, like, ten, because I haven’t heard that juvenile statement since fifth grade.” Gen sighs and checks the time on the wall impatiently. A new episode must begin soon. “Fine, I’ll do a load of laundry.” Tyler keeps flipping. “Two loads?” Her face brightens and she crosses her arms. “I’ll set you up with one of the cocktail waitresses at Blue.”

  Tyler stops channel surfing and eyeballs her. I grab my purse and steal a twenty from his wallet when he’s not looking. He wouldn’t want me stranded without cash. I’m doing him a favor by planning ahead. “Keep talking,” he says.

  “One of the pretty ones.” Her expression is all innocence in a way only Genevieve can pull off, but I know better. She may not have gotten straight A’s in school like Tyler and me, but that girl has street smarts.

  All the exceptionally pretty waitresses at Blue are as dumb as rocks—not that pretty girls are necessarily mentally hindered. Gen is an example of gorgeous and intelligent mixed in one, but in the case of the other Blue waitresses, the stereotype holds true.

  “Done,” he says, and hands her the remote. She does a victory dance on the couch, complete with bouncing and fist pumping. Tyler stares at her chest, his rapt expression indicating the victory dance alone was worth the sacrifice. Gross.

  A knock sounds at the door. My heart speeds up. “Okay, kids, I’m off.” I lunge for the knob. I’m not ashamed of Jaeger or our relationship. I’d just rather not face “the parents” on the couch.

  Too late.

  “And when will you be home?” Tyler asks, his domestic debate forgotten. I glance back and he’s scrutinizing me. He eyes my cleavage and frowns.

  “If I’m lucky, not till tomorrow. Toodle-oo!” I pinky-wave and open the door. Stepping out, I bump into a confused Jaeger and yank the door shut. I slump against the surface. “Don’t go in there. It’s dangerous.”

  He chuckles. “Okay.” He grabs my hand and leans down, kissing me softly on the lips. My belly flutters just from that one delicate touch. His gaze dips to my top, catching appreciatively on my chest. He looks at the rest of my outfit and smiles. “You look beautiful.”

  Mission accomplished with the new top. I knew the expense would be worth it.

  Jaeger’s wearing a button-down green shirt that brings out the green in his eyes. He looks edible, and smells it too. I wrap my arms around his waist and hug him tight. “I missed you.”

  His face dips to the top of my head and he breathes in through my hair. “Same here.” After a moment, he loosens his hold. “Come on. I’ve got something to show you.” Excitement and a bit of shyness play on his face. He’s often quiet, but I’ve never seen him nervous.

  What is this surprise?

  Jaeger drives us to his house and my original suspicions resurface. I quickly reject them. Not that sex with Jaeger won’t play a part in the evening if I have a say, b
ut Jaeger’s tapping the steering wheel as if he’s jumpy. Something else is going on.

  We walk around to the workshop. He unlocks the door and steps aside for me to enter. The sun hasn’t set, but lies low in the sky, leaving the workshop shadowed without the overheads. He flips on the lights.

  “Is this a replay of the other day?” I tease.

  He looks at me, heat and desire flaming behind his gaze. “No, and you’d better not put ideas in my head or we won’t make it to dinner.”

  He rests his wide hand on my lower back, scorching the flesh beneath, and guides me across the room to where he keeps his final works.

  Only a few remain on the tiered shelves today, about half as many as last time. I’ll have to ask him how he sells his stuff. Good for research.

  It’s strange how we both turned to art after the lives we’d mapped out didn’t work. I’d never considered art and design before I returned to Tahoe, but I’ve been thoughtlessly sketching since fourth grade on napkins, notebooks, and just about any scrap of paper that fell into my hands. Jaeger and I are so different on the surface. He’s quiet and I’m outgoing, but underneath, our passions are the same. On many levels.

  Jaeger steps away and pulls out a tablet about four by four feet in size and covered with a painter’s drop cloth. He sets it on the wall display and removes the cover. For a moment, I think, wow, that black drape really highlights the wood nicely, and then my focus settles on the design.

  What the…? “Jaeger?”

  The carving in front of us is the abstract I drew of the lake.

  “Gen happened to show Mason and me the design you made on a napkin during one of your breaks. I asked her if I could borrow it. I also saw the sketch you left on the couch when I came by to pick up Gen. Cali, you have crazy talent.”

  A naughty glint flashes in his forest-green eyes. “I’ve shown you how special I think you are. But this”—his eyes sober and he points to the piece in front of us—“is my way of showing you how special I think your art is.”

  Replicated on wood, the sketch has dimension and depth, with the outermost lines advancing as though the center is pulling you in.