Cocktail

by Lauren Smith

  “Hey, you okay?” Layla reached her and linked her arm through Felicity’s. “I saw you yawning from across the room.”

  Felicity wrinkled her nose. “Just tired. Been up since dawn, have a midterm paper due tomorrow, and I feel every minute of a year older.” Felicity wrinkled her nose. “Is it still all right to crash in Tanner’s brother’s bedroom?”

  “Of course! I don’t want you having to travel across half the city tonight to get back to that little hole in the wall you live in.” Layla linked her arm through Felicity’s. “I really wish you’d just move in with me.” Her friend pouted dramatically, but Felicity stiffened her spine in an attempt resist Layla’s begging.

  “As much as I love your apartment, Layla, it’s out my budget at the moment.” It was double what her tiny place was, and Felicity’s budget was already stretched thin. “You sure Tanner’s brother won’t mind?” It still felt weird to be sleeping in a guy’s bed whether he was there or not.

  “Yeah. Jared won’t be back till Sunday night, so you’re welcome to stay the whole weekend,” Layla said. “Besides, even if he wasn’t spending the entire weekend working, he’d never be caught dead anywhere near a party like this. That workaholic wouldn’t know fun if it bit him in the ass.” She snorted as though picturing just that. “Are you sure you’re just tired, birthday girl?”

  With her classes and her part-time job, Felicity was grateful for early nights where she could find them—and the prospect of staying up into the wee hours and endangering her beloved dress didn’t hold much appeal. No, the sweet song of a comfy bed and a few hours of oblivion was calling to her.

  “I’m good!” she insisted. “Go have more fun and don’t worry about me. Go find Tanner before he realizes you’ve ditched him.” Felicity pointed to Layla’s boyfriend, who was politely escaping the group of bunnies and searching about for Layla.

  Tanner Redmond and Layla had hooked up the first day of classes five years ago and had been together ever since. He was hot, smart, and totally nice, not at all like some of the entitled jerks she had to deal with when she handled rich clients at the gallery where she worked, which was a shocker given that he was a rich kid. He and his older brother, Jared, shared this beautiful apartment. She’d never met Jared. Even though she’d spent the last three months around Tanner and Layla, the mysterious older brother had never once shown up.

  Layla’s dark eyes ran up and down Felicity with concern. “You sure you don’t want to stay out here? You don’t have to crash now. Unless you’re not feeling well?” Layla cocked one hip, her hand perched there as she continued to study Felicity. Felicity swallowed down the flutter of nerves that always came whenever her friend tried to make her participate more in the student culture, but she shook her head. She wasn’t good at being fun and spontaneous or wild. Graduate student life seemed to be built on those three things when one wasn’t studying or writing papers. It was just her luck that she was too shy to be bold in life like Layla.

  It never ceased to amaze Felicity how much of a mother hen her friend could be.

  “I’m good,” she answered Layla, her voice firm. Sometimes she had to use a “parent voice” in order to get Layla to stop mothering her. “Go and have fun. You said the bedroom is the last on the left?”

  “Yup. And seriously, stay the weekend. Just come back here after your midterm, and we can hang out.” Layla’s offer was tempting, and Felicity found herself more than considering it. It sure would be nice to crash here for a few days. “I still can’t believe you have a term paper due on the Saturday after Halloween,” Layla muttered. “Ugh.” Layla wrinkled her nose. “Some teachers are jerks. I’d be happy to make a voodoo doll of him, and we can shove pins in him.” Her friend was grinning wickedly as she suggested this.

  Felicity bit back a laugh. “If I didn’t like Professor Willoughby as much as I do, I might take you up on that.”

  Layla escorted her all the way to the door and then curved her arms around Felicity in a hug. Her throat tightened as she fought off the fierce happiness that came over her whenever her friend hugged her.

  Layla didn’t hug by halves—she gripped you hard, squeezed the air out of your lungs, and made you feel loved.

  Felicity just wasn’t used to that—unlike Layla with her sprawling and loud family that found it natural to hug and kiss constantly, Felicity’s parents were not overtly affectionate. They were sweet, and she knew they loved her, but they didn’t put their affection on display like Layla—unbridled and consuming.

  “Just do me a favor. Get some rest and kick butt on your research tomorrow.”

  “Yes, Mom.” Felicity stuck her tongue out, and they both giggled.

  As Layla turned back to the party, Felicity slipped into the sanctuary and relative quiet of the dark bedroom. Her breath caught as she took in the view of the city through the tall windows. The skyline of downtown Chicago was a man-made mountain range of lights twinkling in a sea of black. The sky behind the buildings was a soft purple, cutting a contrast against the silhouettes of the buildings. It was one amazing view, and it always made her breathless when she caught a glimpse of the monolithic buildings. Her hands ached to sketch the sight, but she hadn’t brought her pad with her.

  Fifteen stories up, none of the city sounds that kept her up at night could be heard from Jared’s bedroom. She liked that. She wandered over to the window, wanting to sate herself on the sight of glittering lights and an endless glowing horizon. When she’d had her fill of the view, she turned back to investigate just what sort of room she would be spending the night in.

  A massive bed against one wall with a cherrywood headboard and a deep crimson comforter looked soft and inviting. The scent of aftershave and an enticing masculine aroma made her all too aware again that this was a man’s domain. She scanned the rest of the room. A large desk was laden with files and paperwork. If he was such a workaholic, why didn’t he spend more time at this desk and enjoy the view? If she had this to look at all day, she could see the appeal of working from home. But as a lawyer, maybe he didn’t get that option, and had to be in the office all day.

  It suddenly bothered her that she had no idea what Jared looked like. Being in his personal space like this was oddly intimate, and it felt strange seeing so much of the man without ever having seen his face. As an artist, all she did was think about what things and people looked like. Not being able to see the features or the build of the man who lived here was unsettling.

  Layla had said he was thirty and panty-melting hot—but not as hot as Tanner, of course. Layla wasn’t the type of girl to really eye another man when she was happily in love, but she did appreciate beauty of the masculine variety. Felicity had laughed at the thought. She’d never seen any guy worth calling panty-melting hot, at least none outside of the movies. Layla said that Jared could give Jamie Dornan a run for his money on hotness and intensity.

  Layla’s words came back to her, and she smiled as she could hear her friend’s voice so clearly in her head. “You know what I’m talking about. Tanner is all sorts of brooding and intense. He can just look at you and you go all wet and melty, you know? Like he’d fuck you so good you’d break the bed and ask for more. Jared’s like that, too.” Felicity hadn’t been able to get that out of her mind. Layla had said Tanner was just like Jared, only younger. It explained everything. Tanner’s intensity was tempered by his youth and sweetness, but his older brother had that jaded, hot bad-boy thing going on, according to Layla.

  Now she stood in said panty-melter’s room and couldn’t help but picture a gorgeous, sexy man walking through the room, putting on a suit, critically eyeing his appearance in the mirror over the dresser.

  Unable to resist and knowing it was completely inappropriate, she opened the top drawer of the beautiful dark dresser. Neatly rolled ties of a dozen different colors and patterns decorated the drawer, and a set of different styles of watches with leather and metal bands sat next to a box filled with cufflinks that glinted like jewels beneath
the glass lid.

  “Wow.” She trailed her fingertips over the watches. A man with refined, expensive tastes.

  Felicity watched the shadows play across the room, accenting the bed where Jared slept. What would it be like to share a bed with a man like him? To be the focus of all that raw masculinity and sexual energy? Her body hummed at the fantasy her mind seemed determined to play out. Her skin burned at the thought of what could happen if he came here tonight and found her in his bedroom. What if he just stood there, blocking the door, staring down at her? What if he told her to strip off her clothes and get into bed?

  God, I need to get laid. Felicity shook her head. Even though she was a virgin, her fantasies could get wild. She struggled to get her libido under control.

  Felicity sighed as she leaned against the bed, relishing the moment to bask in such luxury. She smoothed a hand over the red comforter. Satin? No, silk. She was tempted to lie down, just for a bit, but she knew she should change into her PJ’s before getting in. She tried the nearest door, only to discover a large walk-in-closet with dozens of suits and a tall rack of expensive leather shoes. Not the bathroom. Her bag was supposed to be in the bathroom where Layla had said she’d put it. She approached the last door she hadn’t opened. Felicity flicked on the light, found her bag sitting on the marble floor, and then searched through her clothes. When she didn’t immediately find them, she dumped her gym bag over, muttering as she dug through the contents on the bed.

  “Damn!” No pajamas. She’d left them at home.

  All she had was her change of clothes for tomorrow. She wouldn’t sleep in those. Returning to the bed, she put a hand to her stomach. The corset dug deep into her. How the heck did women live like this back in the day? Sure, it was fun to wear for a couple of hours, but spend her life in one of these? No way.

  Gathering her skirts, she tucked her legs up on the bed and rested her head on the pillow.

  So soft. Her mind started to drift in that hazy place between being awake and being asleep. What would it be like to live in a place like this? Surrounded by beauty, success, wealth? She’d likely never know. Her dream was to be an artist and a curator of a museum. Not much money in either of those dreams, but they were her passions.

  Passion.

  The word made her smile. The man who slept in this room definitely had passion, workaholic or not. He appreciated the finer things, and his taste was impeccable. Her fingers tapped along the bedding. It really was a pity she’d never meet the owner. A yawn escaped her, and she stuck a balled fist against her mouth. Her thoughts drifted, and she let them wander into dreams of the sexy man whose bed she was currently in and what would happen if he returned.

  Jared Redmond stumbled from the taxicab, his brown leather briefcase smacking his back as he struggled to stay on his feet. He swallowed a growl of frustration. This was the last time he let the senior partners of his firm keep him out late to celebrate. He’d only had one drink, since he was dead tired from the last few months of overtime at the office. Having to smile, laugh, and socialize all night with the partners left him edgy and desperate to get home and crawl into bed.

  God forbid he just do his job and do it well enough to earn respect. No, he had to spend hours at one of the most expensive restaurants with them, watching them pat each other on the back when he’d done all the heavy lifting in their multi-million-dollar transaction.

  Big fucking mistake.

  Now he was completely drained, and his body was determined to go to sleep on him right there on the street. His vision was fine, but his motor skills seemed to have abandoned him. He reached the glass doors of his apartment building lobby, leaning a little too heavily against the glass. Fishing around in his pocket for his keycard, he muttered a string of curses when his hand came up empty. He glanced up and rapped his knuckles. Thank God, the guard recognized him and buzzed him inside.

  “Mr. Redmond.” The security guard nodded, a knowing smile on the older man’s lips.

  “Hey, Randy,” he greeted, wincing at the slur of his words.

  A few more steps and he reached the elevator. After much effort focusing on the series of floor buttons on the panel, he pressed the button to the fifteenth floor and it lit up. He leaned his head back on the mirrored walls, resting. Jesus, it was like he was drunk, but he knew it was sheer exhaustion.

  It had been a hell of a day. After two months of negotiations, sleepless nights, long hours, and no chance of reviving his obsolete social life, he’d closed the massive real estate deal, and closed it earlier than he’d anticipated. Everyone demanded they go out and celebrate. He just wanted to crash and sleep off all of the stress pent up inside him.

  He was going to walk into his bedroom and face-plant on his bed and not move all weekend from that spot.

  Tanner would be out with his girlfriend, Layla, celebrating. It was Halloween, wasn’t it? A little grin tugged at his lips. The apartment would be empty and quiet. The perfect benefit of arriving home early. He’d told Tanner he wouldn’t be back until Sunday, and it was only Friday now. He expected his little brother and girlfriend would be out partying the night away, giving him total silence and a soft bed to crash on without any disturbances.

  The second the elevator doors slid open with a soft hiss, he heard the music and the erratic noises of a party. Laughter, voices, all coming from their apartment.

  Fucking hell.

  “Tanner,” he growled, fists clenched.

  So the partying tonight was in, not out.

  Jared contemplated turning around and finding a hotel, or worse, calling Shana. No, bad idea. They’d dated on and off during law school and after, but they’d never been exclusive. Currently he and Shana were off. Definitely off.

  Lousy timing for Tanner to throw a damn party.

  That was the main problem with letting his twenty-four-year-old brother live with him. He’d thought it would be nice to spend some time with his little brother, but with his work schedule he barely saw Tanner. The one night they might have hung out, he was too tired to care. He was not in the mood to dodge drunken graduate students all night and try to drown out all the racket they were making. Luck wasn’t with him tonight. Fuck, he was turning into a crotchety old man if he was going to let a party piss him off.

  The door to their place was unlocked, and when he swung the door open, a wave of fresh sound engulfed him. His eardrums throbbed, and he winced at the explosion of the music that drilled into his skull like nails. Scantily-dressed girls bounced about to the pounding rhythm of the music along with guys who were watching with giddy-schoolboy expressions. Some of them cheered and smiled, drunkenly overjoyed that a new person had shown up to the party. Several familiar faces, Tanner’s friends, waved at him or nodded as he walked past them.

  “Jared! I thought you weren’t coming home till tomorrow?” A zombie stripper stepped in front of him, hands on her hips. Through the gory makeup he thought he recognized her.

  “Layla?”

  Tanner’s girlfriend was dressed as a zombie stripper. Only Layla could manage to pull off that look.

  “Layla, what the hell is going on?” he demanded, gesturing to the insanity. A girl in a sexy Lara Croft costume was singing a bad karaoke cover of “Somebody’s Watching Me.” Holy fuck. He was going to need some noise-cancelling headphones to survive this shit. For a brief second he considered tossing everyone out on their damn asses, but this place was half Tanner’s and he’d told Tanner he wouldn’t be here tonight. Brother code demanded he suffer through this bullshit.

  Layla didn’t look chagrined in the least. “It’s Halloween. Oh, and Felicity’s birthday, obviously.”

  “Who is Felicity?” He’d never met anyone named Felicity. Not that it was surprising, because he was never around when his brother was hanging out with Layla and their friends. He didn’t really remember what it was like to be that carefree. Law school and work had a way of consuming a person’s good memories.

  “Scratch that, I don’t care. Is this thi
ng”—he waved a hand around—“ending anytime soon?” He shifted his briefcase strap over his shoulder. His suit was starting to suffocate him, and as much as he liked the particular steel-gray tie he wore at the moment, he was desperate enough to cut it right off his neck if he couldn’t get to his room fast enough.

  “Uh…” She licked her lips. “Don’t know. But you said you weren’t coming back until Sunday.”

  “Well, here I am and tired as fuck. So I’m going to bed. Try to keep it down,” he growled.

  “Uh, Jared.” She dodged around him, trying to prevent him from getting past her.

  “What did you do?” He arched a brow, sensing by the way her eyes widened and she shifted in her stilettos that something was wrong.

  “I might have given your bed away.” Layla bit her lip, yet she was brave enough to still meet his eyes.

  “What do you mean you gave my bed away?”

  She attempted to smile. “You were supposed to be gone until Sunday, and Felicity needed a place to stay tonight. It’s late, and I didn’t want her to go home alone. She lives in a sketchy part of town—so I told her she could crash in your bed since you weren’t going to be here.” She glared at him, accusing him of something he wasn’t entirely sure was his fault. “So she’s in your room tonight.” She ended with a finality that did not entirely make sense to his tired brain.

  “Let me get this straight. Some girl is in my bed…right now?”

  Layla swallowed, her eyes darting away before coming back to him. “Um…yeah?”

  “No,” he stated and stalked toward his room, Layla at his heels. Whoever this Felicity person was, she was in his bed, and since it was his bed, whatever Layla and this girl had seemed to think otherwise, he’d have her out of it.