Hunting for Curves (BBW Erotic Romance) (7 page)

"Okay," he said with a grim tone. There was no way around it. He owed his co-workers for covering for him last week. When he'd been working overtime during a staffing shortage, and they'd stepped up to let him go home. And the patients deserved the best care, not waiting for hours in an emergency room.

But why did it have to be this night, of all nights?
Fuck.
He knew he had to go in. "I'll be there in ten minutes."

"What is it?" Jasmine placed a hand on his arm.

"I've got to go." He glanced away. "I'm sorry for cutting the evening short."

"What did you just say?"

Evan stood at the door, the light from the shop silhouetting his tall, slender body. Cups of yogurt sat in his hands, the stem of a spoon sticking out from each.

"Evan—" He pulled his car keys out. "They're short staffed and getting slammed with check-ins. I've gotta run."

"Lucas. I canceled a conference call with China so we could have a night together. This is what you've been asking for. Tell them—"

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, I can't." Luke started jogging down the street. "I'll try to be off as soon as I can," he called over his shoulder.

Jasmine watched as Luke faded into the dark: black casual shirt, khaki pants, then nothing. She suddenly felt strange and out of place. As if she had just watched a wedding proposal go wrong and she was left standing with the embarrassed groom-to-not-be. She wanted to say something: apologize, reassure him, or anything that would help to bring back the mood they had shared mere moments before.

Evan sighed and dropped his lingering gaze. Then he offered one of the cups. "I'll walk you to your car."

She accepted the yogurt but remained silent. The three of them had shared such a brief flash of time, and it had been brilliant, magical. But now she was left feeling embarrassed and clumsy. It was exactly what she'd wanted to avoid by leaving the hotel late that night.

Taking a bite, she tried to let the sweetness distract her anxiety. But it left a bland taste in her mouth, as if her tongue had gone numb.
This isn't as good as I remember it.

They strolled together in the quiet, Jasmine taking small bites of the chilly dessert as Evan simply held the extra cup. He could have eaten it. Or he could have thrown it away. But he did neither. It was as if he expected Luke to return, and he was simply holding it, waiting.

When she couldn't stand the awkward silence anymore, she ventured a glance.

"His work must be very important. Do you think he'll save any lives tonight?"

Evan's gaze remained fixed on the street ahead of them. "I'm not sure. It doesn't matter. He takes his job seriously, regardless of the circumstances."

His eyes flashed to hers. "This night is a bad example but I normally love his dedication."

"It's what he wants to do, huh?" She spooned the last of her yogurt, hoping to change the subject away from Luke's sudden absence.

He nodded. "I told him he doesn't have to work, much less hold down a full time job. But he's where he wants to be." He lowered his eyes. "Helping those in need."

"I wish I could have my dream job." She dropped the half-empty cup in a trash can as they passed by. "I've only been able to land a temporary contractor position. But it will build up my resume so it's worth it. Plus I don't know what I'd do if I they let me go."

"You said you're in marketing?"

"For now. But my career focus leans more toward design. Like—" She scrunched her nose as she tried to think of a good example. "Not only how to market something but how to create things that are more marketable."

Evan chuckled. "That's good. I always say, you can market junk as gold or you can make it with gold to begin with."

She spotted her car as they rounded the bend and she suddenly felt a tightness in her chest. Anxious questions rolled through her mind:
Where does this leave us? Do I give him a kiss goodnight? Without Luke? Would they want to see me again or was this it?

Soon she would be back in her world, at her shitty job, driving a rusty car, and dealing with all the frustrating complications of her life. She wished this night could have lasted longer. If nothing else, so she could pretend she was being courted by two handsome men.

She had a taste of something special and she loathed to give it up. The fact that she'd had a good time made it all the more jarring to leave on this melancholy note.

Luke and Evan tried to wear the guise of having a perfect relationship. But she had to admit that the strain underneath shone through. And her presence had not made things any easier.

Their affection toward her was awkward and complicated by their competitive drives. Luke obviously liked her although he could come off a little strong—like he was hurried or troubled about something.

Then there was Evan, the handsome enigma. She wanted to read his mind, peel back his layers and see who he really was. But she had to settle for trying to interpret his stoic mannerisms. Truthfully, she might not even see him again. Especially after this night.

Reality sucks
, she decided.

As they reached her car, she turned and gave Evan a warm hug. His arms enveloped her in the embrace, crushing her against him for a moment. The bruising in her breasts brought back memories from their night together. Part of her had hoped for another chance, something slow and sensual so she could enjoy the men a little longer. But that train had left and she resigned herself to the lingering warmth from his body.

Evan watched her as she got into the driver seat. Then she turned the key and nothing happened.
Oh, no.

She turned it again, this time with more force. The engine made a pitiful groan and clicked into silence. Evan's eyes squinted back at her and she couldn't tell if he was concerned or disgusted. Heat boiled up her neck as she frantically pumped the key.
No, please, God. Why now?

Tears welled in her eyes as Evan approached the side of the car. She didn't want him to see her like this: frustrated, emotional, embarrassed. Crying. Poor. But she swallowed back the tide of tension as she rolled the window down.

He set the cup on her hood and bent down to the side window, a neutral expression on his face. "I can give you a ride home."

She tried to refuse. "No, I—I—" Then she choked. And there was nothing she could do as the flood spilled over.

She jerked, turning away as a sob shuddered through her body. Tears streamed down her cheeks and dripped off her chin.
My makeup!
The thought forced another round of involuntary spasms. She quickly hunched over the steering wheel in a futile attempt to hide her face.
He can't see me like this. Why doesn't he just leave?

The door squeaked open and her sore eyes widened. From the shelter of her arms, she watched his hand reach around to retrieve her keys. Then his other hand wrapped around her back, bracing her as he urged her to stand up.

"W—what—what are—" Jasmine stuttered as she stumbled to her feet.

"I'm taking you to my place," he said in a stern voice. "You shouldn't be alone right now."

The door slammed shut behind her but she couldn't look up. Not yet. Instead she buried her face against his chest and sobbed into his expensive suit. And sobbed. All of her problems, Rodney, her job, her low self-esteem, flowed out of her in a violent torrent, resonating deep into her aching bones.

Evan held her through the entire ordeal, his arms tightly wrapped around her back. And the harder her muscles jerked, the more he crushed her against him.

Eventually, the rush of frantic emotions ebbed, and her breathing became easier. Like a salve, the manly smell of his shirt invaded her senses, soothing the acute pain in her chest. He was warm, comforting, and for once, his silence set her mind at ease.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Don't be."

He gently turned her, guiding her with one arm as they left her dead car and the melted yogurt behind. Her head remained against his shoulder as they walked and a light breeze chilled the wetness on her cheeks. Like a child, she let him take the lead as she stepped numbly across the dim parking lot. Through blurry eyes, she watched him open the passenger side door of an expensive-looking sedan. But she hardly noticed any other details as he revved the car into motion.

The drive was not as long as it seemed. And Jasmine spent the entire time berating herself for her outburst. Evan had been a perfect gentleman, which made things worse for the roiling conflict of her thoughts. He was wealthy, stable, and in a committed relationship.
He shouldn't be babysitting a failure like myself.

But she remained silent as he pulled up to a multistory, beachfront house and an automated security gate opened wide. He parked next to dark, wide windows, the headlights shining briefly over the pale beach before he switched them off.

The smell of the ocean was strong but not unpleasant and her feet scuffed over the sand-swept driveway. Under any other circumstances, she would have been floored by the location with the waves just a stone's throw away. Instead she blindly followed Evan up the steps and into the dimly lit front room.

It was a large space, with tall vaulted ceilings and picture windows overlooking the dark night, where she heard the gentle rumble of waves crashing beyond.

"Please," he urged as he flicked on more lights. "Have a seat."

"Um…" She hid her red tear-streaked faced behind her hands.

"Oh." He turned away with a courteous smile. "Third door on your left."

Her shoes clicked on the tile flooring as she entered the bathroom. She didn't even look in the large round mirror as she splashed water over her skin. She knew her eyes would be irritated but at least she could get the ruined makeup off. Then maybe she wouldn't look like a total mess in front of him.

"Would you like something to drink?" Evan called from the other room. "I opened a bottle of Chardonnay for myself."

"That's fine," she called back as she rubbed a towel over her clean face. Then she groaned as she looked at her reflection. She looked so plain without the eyeliner or blush. And of course the redness in her eyes made her look homely. But there was nothing she could do.
Maybe I can convince him to turn the lights off
.

With quick hands, she undid her braid and spread her hair out. Then she walked back into the room.

Evan stood next to a short coffee table and a leather sofa as he poured wine into crystal stemware. He glanced up and a small smile played on his lips. It wasn't his usual grin, more heartfelt and soft. Maybe even a little sad.
Oh great,
Jasmine thought.
Now he pities me.
She wasn't sure how this could get any worse.

He patiently waited for her to sit before he offered a glass. Then he retrieved one for himself and sat at the opposite end of the couch.

Jasmine took a sip and her gaze swept over the room, lingering over the large pieces of contemporary art on the walls. "You have a really nice place."

His eyes closed as he gave her a slow nod. "Thank you."

On a tall table by the window, sat a white sculpture of a naked man posing with his head on his shoulder, his arm hanging down as if he were reaching for the ground.

"That is a beautiful piece."

"Luke gave that to me on our second anniversary. The artist was a friend of ours."

She glanced at him and he returned a sad smile.

"Lung cancer. He passed away over a year ago."

"Oh. I'm sorry." She dropped her eyes.

"Don't be." Evan sipped his wine. He tilted his head with a faraway look in his eyes. "He didn't want anyone to mourn him. He was a brilliant man who left his mark on the world in the time he had. We should all be so lucky."

Without the faintest clue what to say, Jasmine raised her glass and took another drink. Maybe a little too fast. Her mouth was dry and the wine tickled on its way down. Leaning forward, she cupped her mouth as she tried to stifle the cough.

Evan reached for a box of tissue on an end table next to him, and offered it to her with a concerned look on his face.

She coughed once more into her hand, but she waved his gesture away as she regained control of herself. He probably thought she was going to start crying again.

"Thank you, but I'm okay." She straightened and tried to compose herself on the couch. "I didn't mean to break down right in front of you, earlier." She swirled the drink in her hand. "It wasn't exactly how I wanted the night to end."

He sighed. "I know."

There was a melancholy edge to his voice and Jasmine didn't know how to respond. She looked down at the coffee table. What was she supposed to do? Tell him everything would be okay?

She barely knew him. Not enough to offer any comfort or advice. And she was sure anything she said would sound trite, like the worst sort of greeting card clichés. What could she possibly say to a man like him anyway? She couldn't presume to know anything about his life, or his relationship. This was all so out of her league.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Evan asked. "Or do you find architectural floor plans that fascinating?"

Jasmine blinked. She'd been staring at the coffee table much too long, trying to compose her thoughts into something clever, or at least something that didn't sound forced. She hadn't even noticed the printouts in front of her. But she was grateful for the change of subject they offered.

"Is this a new building?"

Evan shook his head. "Remodeling the hotel. Starting with the ground floor next year." He leaned forward and tapped a finger thoughtfully on one of the pages. "It's in a prime location downtown but we're not taking advantage of that. The lobby looks like an overripe bank, and the meeting rooms on that level are an immense waste of space. Retail shops opening onto the street would be a better choice for foot traffic and for the vibrancy of the neighborhood. We'll also get the bar out of the basement."

"Oh, that sounds like a huge project."

She watched Evan's hand on the table before her gaze finally darted back up to him. He sat at the edge of the couch in a pose like Rodin's Thinker, brow furrowed as he studied the printouts. His words surprised her, but not because of his grand plans. Rather that he wanted to talk to her about this at all.