Better Than Chance (10 page)

“I’ll give you a lift to your car. I’m guessing it’s still at the office.” He was busy pulling single bills from his wallet in a distracted manner.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s close. I can walk.” I held out my hand to shake his and opened my mouth intending to wish him a good rest of the night, but he stopped me with a dangerous and somewhat pointed stare.

“I know you can walk, and I’m not worried about it, but I want to take you. Don’t ask any more questions, Jay. Just climb in.”

There was a challenge in his imperious tone that worked like a charm. I am a sucker for a bet or a dare, and somewhere in the back of my head, I had a feeling he’d worked that out on his own. So for the second time in less than a week, I found myself in Peter Morgan’s luxury SUV. This time at least I was riding shotgun.

“Buckle up,” Peter commanded.

“Why? Is it going to be a bumpy ride?” I quipped, already reaching for the seat belt. I caught Peter’s eye and frowned in irritation as he shook his head in disbelief.

“What? It’s from a Bette Davis movie. Actually the all-time best ever Bette Davis film. It was from 19—”

I turned to face him in my seat as I warmed up to one of my own personal favorite topics. Old classic movies.

“1950.
All About Eve
. I know. But actually the correct line is ‘Fasten your seat belts. It’s going to be a bumpy night.’ Not ride.” He turned to face me and shot a rather self-satisfied look in my direction before pulling out on to the main road.

I was impressed, of course. No one seemed to care about old films anymore, much less know the names of legendary actors and important quotes and trivia. My sister Anna was the only one I knew who shared my love of film history. Katie, dear friend though she was, was a pretender. She claimed to love Judy Garland and Vivienne Leigh, but she couldn’t keep her facts straight and she tended to fall asleep during the movies she claimed to love the most. So, yeah… he had me. Interested and more than a little curious. I told him so.

Peter smiled, though his gaze remained fixed on the road.

“I’m an Alfred Hitchcock fan, but I also have a thing for all the old horror flicks. You know, Bela Lugosi and Boris Karloff.” He shrugged now, seeming a little embarrassed by his frank admission. I, for one, was mystified. Damn him for saving the best for last!

“I have to see you again!” I blurted and just as quickly threw my hand over my mouth. No way did I just say that! What the hell? Where was my pride? Thank God it was dark in the SUV’s interior. I was beyond mortified. Luckily, we had reached our destination. I fumbled with the door and sputtered something about seeing him later and thanks for the lift.

“Hey, relax.” He chuckled softly in the dark. “First of all, I don’t know which car is yours and secondly….”

He stopped his truck inside the parking garage after the transponder opened the gate and turned completely sideways in his seat to face me.

“I want to see you too.” The words were quiet, but somehow they impacted me with the same force as if they had been screamed at me. I was shocked. I didn’t know how to answer. There was no mistaking his tone. It was beguiling. A siren’s song. I swallowed hard and worked up the courage to look into those intense, dark eyes.

“Y-you do?” I stuttered, mentally cursing myself.

“I do. Friday night? I have something I promised to show you. You available?”

I tried to play it cool, counting to five (though I actually only made it to three) before I answered in as suave a manner as I could muster.

“Yes.”

Peter chuckled, that endearing twinkle lighting his eyes. He turned back to his wheel and reminded me that he had no idea which car was mine. I gave him directions to my usual parking spot on the third floor. The entire garage was deserted. Mine was the only vehicle on the whole floor. Creepy. I was suddenly glad he insisted on accompanying me. Maybe he was just a gentleman and I was once again reading too much into something I shouldn’t. The hour was late, and I was letting my imagination get away from me. I shook my head at my idiot self, locating my keys before I turned to thank Peter again.

“No problem. So… Friday?”

“Yeah.”

“Give me your cell number. I’m not at the office much this week. Most of my meetings are outside.”

I did as instructed. He read the digits back to me incorrectly twice, so I leaned across to guide him through each number as though my closer proximity would help. Peter turned toward me as I leaned in. Our faces were inches apart. I could feel his breath on my lips and found myself licking mine in response. I heard a low groan but wasn’t sure who it was… him or me, before our lips touched in the softest of kisses. I pulled back, unsure and unsettled. Peter’s eyes were ablaze with desire… and challenge.

I felt the blood racing through my veins in response as my heartbeat accelerated. I opened my mouth to say… I had no idea what to say, when he closed the distance and wrapped his hand around my throat almost as though he were going to choke me. His touch was light as he traced my Adam’s apple with his thumb before curving his hand behind my head and forcing me forward. Our lips touched once again lightly before he plunged his tongue inside my mouth. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so instantly charged with desire. Our tongues dueled as we fought to get closer in the confines of the car. I shifted in my seat, our mouths still fused. When oxygen became a necessity, I pulled back to lick at his full lips, across his jaw and stubbled chin, delighting in the slight cleft, à la Cary Grant, before I made my way back to his open mouth.

Peter groaned. I could feel the tension in his large frame as he once again forcefully devoured my mouth with long, sure strokes of his tongue. He cupped my face in both of his hands, completely controlling the tempo and cadence of the kiss. But it was more than a kiss. This was sex with tongues. I wanted more. I wanted all of him. I wanted to feel his large hands all over my body. I wanted to feel his heavy, delicious weight cover me.

But I had to pull back, retreat. This was more than I could take in all at once. I pushed at his chest telling him wordlessly that I need to put the brakes on. He pulled back and stared into my eyes. Our heavy breathing permeated the silence. Peter sat farther back and nodded. I didn’t know what was expected now. Confusion settled over me as I fumbled for the door handle, my gaze looking anywhere but at the man in the seat next to me.

“I’ll see you Friday.” His voice was low and commanding. It wasn’t a question. It was a reminder.

“Um… yeah, I’ll see you Friday.”

I didn’t look back. I opened the truck’s door and bolted out, my hands shaking as I tried to open my own car door. I was aware that Peter’s truck didn’t move until I was safely behind the wheel with my engine on, but everything else was static. I didn’t take my first deep breath until I reached home ten minutes later. What had happened tonight?

4

“S
O
…
HOW
was last night?” Aaron’s voice singsonged first thing the next morning.

“You are in big trouble!”

“Oh.” There was a longer silence than either of us usually let pass. I wanted him to feel at least a little guilty for what he’d set in motion. “I’m sorry, Jay.” He sounded perfectly sincere.

“It’s okay. It was nice.”

“Nice? Oh, honey, I’m really sorry.”

“I said it was nice… it was also confusing and more than a little odd, but overall I think it was nice.”

“Nice is not an adjective either you or I use. Its rough translation is bor-ing! Is he a bore? He didn’t seem like he would be. He seemed more like a rough-under-a-controlled-and-polished-surface kind of guy. You know… exciting, not nice.”

“Okay, okay, he wasn’t nice at all.”

“Was he mean?” Aaron’s voice sounded strangely thrilled at the idea. Weirdo.

“No. Just really confusing.”

“Ohhh. Now we’re getting somewhere. Do tell.”

So I did.

“I told you so!”

“What exactly did you tell me?” I checked my reflection in the mirror before glancing at my watch. As much as I wanted to continue this conversation, I had to get to work.

“He is into you. Your gaydar is off.”

“It must be. That was the craziest, sexiest kiss ever. I don’t know what to think, though. I’m always guilty of reading too much into things I shouldn’t. Whatever. I just hope he really doesn’t show up at the office today. I need to focus, and he is all kinds of distracting.”

“You, my friend, are also guilty of not giving yourself enough credit. See what happens Friday. Gawd, I can’t wait to hear all about it! He’ll probably take you to his love lair.”

I laughed again. Aaron was way too obsessed with vampires for his own good.

“Or he’ll take me home to introduce me to his wife. He said he didn’t have a girlfriend; he didn’t say wife. Holy shit, A, I hope he’s not hoping for a threesome!”

We both made gagging sounds into the phone and then busted up giggling. An all-male threesome could be interesting, but female parts just weren’t for me.

“When did you get to be such a pessimist? Just see where the night takes you.”

Aaron was right. I decided that’s exactly what I would do. Just see where the night led.

I
RECEIVED
a text message Friday midafternoon.

“Meet me at Level at 8.”

That’s it. No
are we still on?
Do you know where that is?
No phone call to say,
I’ve been thinking about you, have you been thinking about me?
I know, silly. I didn’t expect much more but I can’t deny that I felt he was a bit presumptive. Nerves were abandoned in favor of irritation. It was that same exasperation I felt at being told I had to correct another paragraph all over again. Was he socially confused? I couldn’t figure Peter Morgan out.

I didn’t bother to return his message, hoping that pissed him off a little. And of course I knew exactly where Level was. It was a full concept bar slash restaurant slash disco on R Street in the heart of all that is gay and fabulous in DC. I hadn’t been there in a while, but it was a favorite of my ex. A place to see and be seen. The bartenders and waiters were always shirtless and stunning with cut abs and beautiful smiles. It could be a little intimidating, so I made sure I was dressed to kill. I wore my sexiest tight designer jeans with my brand-new prize purchase: a fitted, sheer black button-down shirt. The light had to be just right to notice the see-through effect. It was hot, if I did say so myself.

I am famous for arriving late or on “Jay time” as my friends and family say. Never for work or really important things like catching a flight. But when I’m preparing to go out socially, I tend to lose track of time. In an effort to avoid my usual tendency, I set my clock forward. I knew it would be no good to treat this as a professional meeting I wouldn’t dare be late for. Because, although Peter and I worked together, the vibe was all wrong. I would never usually agree to meet anyone from work at a place like Level, and I would never dress quite so… unprofessionally either. I didn’t bother thinking about having my tongue down his throat a couple of nights ago. It would have thrown me off my stride.

I took a peek at my phone for the correct time and realized I was actually a few minutes early now. Good. I found a seat on a black leather stool at the bar and ordered a cosmo from a shirtless hottie expertly wielding a martini shaker. I flirted with him for a minute before releasing him to make my cocktail. As I turned in my seat, I drank in the titillating atmosphere of the über-hip bar. Every surface in the bar was mirrored or covered in leather. There were cool chandeliers strung with glass beads and silver balls throughout the bar that provided ambient lighting. Long strands of the same material separated the bar from the main dining area. And if memory served correctly, the dance club was adjacent to the bar. I remembered there being stairs, but the entire building looked like it had been remodeled recently. It was very well done, I mused. A gorgeous space with lots of gorgeous, hunky male scenery.

“Hi. Is this seat taken?”

“Well, I guess that’s better than ‘do you come here often?’,” I quipped as I turned on my barstool to greet Peter.

His lips twitched at my lame attempt at humor. I took a moment to study the lines of his strong jaw, his wavy dark hair, and after-five stubble. He was wearing a casual button-down shirt that hugged his broad chest and arms in all the right places and dark form-fitting designer jeans. He looked amazing, delicious, and too sexy for anyone’s good. Especially mine. From the corner of my eye I noticed a hand gesture he made to the bartender, who looked like he literally stopped everything he was doing to serve Peter. He had a drink in his hand within thirty seconds. Wow. Impressive. Mine was delivered a half second later.

“Come with me.”

I had rehearsed my line of conversation before I had arrived. I would ask him about the rest of his week and weekend plans and try to lead into what the hell it was he wanted to show me. He stopped me with a look. It was a little dangerous and brooked no argument. I simply got up from my stool and followed. Halfway across the room, I stopped and grabbed Peter’s elbow.