Manhattan Muse: A Contemporary Romance (2 page)

T
he reason he wanted me to hold on to the money was because he knew I would do everything in my power to try and give it back.

M
y thumb grazed the last number on my cell phone, letting him win.

My eyelids fluttered the contents of my room in and out of view as each ring sounded. By the fifth ring, I was mentally prepared to leave a message. But then his voice oozed through the speaker and I lost all of my words.

“Hello,” he answered, each chord dripping with desire.

“I’m not going to call again,” I said on autopilot. It took a few seconds to realize I wasn’t talking to a machine. “I mean… hello.”

His light chuckle met my ears and my insides became lead.

“You know,”
Nate said, adding an anticipatory pause for emphasis. “I was wondering if you were going to force me to pay you another visit. Talk about making a deadline by the skin of your teeth - you only had a half an hour left.”

“What are you talking about?” I said, growing instinctively defensive. “It’s only seven-thirty. I didn’t want to interrupt your dinner.”

“Well, it’s 11:30pm in France,” Nate said.

“How was I supposed to know that?” I said. “Did I wake you up?”

“I didn’t expect you to,” Nate said, the excitement bubbling in his words. “That’s the part of the chase I look forward to.”

An awkward pause ensued as I tried to tame my heart back into a placid state. After clearing his throat,
Nate was the first to break the silence.

“How does Friday at eight
sound to you?” Nate said. “I wish I could hear more about your life in my absence sooner but I’m away on business until Thursday night.”

I let out what was supposed to be a sarcastic laugh. However, it sounded like a prepubescent giggle.

“I’m sure,” I said sternly, trying to redeem myself. “Eight’s great.”

I wanted to slap myself as soon as I heard that my words rhymed.

“Good,” Nate said. “At least you will have a shorter wait than I will.”

I thought about it before nodding in agreement. Even though he couldn’t see it, I was sure he could hear my smile through the speaker.

“Goodnight, Mr. Evans,” I said.

“Good evening, Molly,”
Nate said.

As soon as I saw his disconnect light up on my phone, my fists balled. It took everything in my five foot frame to
not plummet through the ceiling. Sure, I’d taken his bait but for the first time, I listened to my heart before my brain.

Since our phone conversation four days prior, the only communication I’d had with Nate was a text spelling out the night’s activities. After booting up my laptop and searching online, I found out my closet didn’t depict the same standards as the chosen restaurant.

So, I did what any other girl in the city would do in this situation. I accrued $800 on my credit card for a new deep
cut black dress and pair of six-inch heels.

I
tucked the tag into the hem of the dress and looked myself up and down in the mirror. The tightness of the body did my bust justice, pushing up my assets so they could peek out through the chest’s mesh. The open texture traveled down my arms, concealing the coffee stain disfiguring my right arm.

After a few extra hair scrunches and turns, I grabbed my clutch and headed out the door. It wasn’t long before I was stepping out of my taxi and up the front steps of the restaurant’s entrance.

A host’s hand stopped me in my tracks before I could touch the door.

“Name, ma’am?” he said sternly without turning his head away from his iPad.

“Um, I don’t have one,” I said as I tried to regain my balance in my new shoes.

“You don’t have a name?” the host said. He looked at me as if I was a peasant. After creating a panoramic view for my memory, I couldn’t agree with him more.

I opened my mouth, hoping that words would creep out to my rescue. However, when I closed my eyes to gather my thoughts, it wasn’t my voice that saved me the humiliation.

“She’s under Evans,” it said, and when I opened my eyes I saw perfection standing in front of me.

Nate was the epitome of the word stunning in a tailored suit and freshly shined shoes. I could feel the ripples of his confident footsteps hitting the entrance of the restaurant and took in the majestic contours of his body outlined in a black skinny tie, hemmed dress pants, and a snug white collared shirt.

Draping his suit jacket over my shoul
ders, he smiled at me.

“I was afraid I was going to be too dressed up for the occasion,”
Nate said.

“I don’t think that’s possible here,” I said, uncomfortably.

I watched as his eyebrows furrowed. Those perfect thin arches cast worry across his entire face even though he wasn’t the one who had anything to worry about.

He placed
a hand on my side.

“We can go somewhere else if you are fee
ling uncomfortable,” Nate said.

Instinctively, I stepped forward away from his touch. Ever since I had heard my diagnosis, I was afraid people would be able to see or feel the lump. I had acquired an arm’s length personal distance and a new set of padded bras since.

“No,” I said, looking into his eyes. “This is fine. I like trying new things.”

He seemed a tad hurt but it soon faded into a softened glow.

“Table for two it is, then,” Nate said to the host, and we were led to our table on the rooftop.

The host proceeded to light the candle
in the center of the table while I peered out at the view of the city. Light music played as background noise from a quartet. My eyes met the dance platform and quickly shot Nate a glare.

“Really?”
I said as he chuckled. “You think it’s that easy to crack me?”

“Don’t assume, Molly,”
Nate said as the host uncorked the bottle of wine Nate had pre-ordered before our arrival. “It makes an ass out of you and me.”

“You’re so clever,” I said.

The host handed me the menu and after one glance, I set it down and blew out a sigh.

“Yes?”
Nate said, scrutinizing his menu.

“I don’t understand what any of this means,” I said, feeling ever more inadequate with each new
obstacle this restaurant threw my way. “You are going to have to order for me.”

“Have you never been out of the country?”
Nate said, his eyes peering over the top of his menu at me.

“In fact, I have,” I said. “I’ve been on world tours.”

At that, Nate laid his menu down and looked at me as his hands folded at the edge of the table.

“Now this is something I have been waiting a week to hear about,”
Nate said.

My sho
ulders shrugged and I watched his eyes trail the mesh bust of my dress.

“I’m not really the bragging type,” I said.

“I don’t recall asking you to,” Nate said. His eyes slid up my neck and lips to meet mine, and I saw his pupils dilate as they fixated on their new home.

“I-” I began before being cut off by our waiter.

“Can I get you started with any appetizers, Mr. Evans?” the waiter said.

Nate
proceeded to order things whose names sounded like deeds out of the music video Lady Marmalade. When the waiter turned to leave, Nate’s hand gestured to me to continue where we had left off.

“I, um… I am a backup dancer for bands, mainly one but,” I said before I got distracted by the character splayed across his face. A freckle blotted the middle of his right cheek while two splashed across the left side of his neck. “I also teach dance here and there. I graduated from Julliard, so I have kept up with my connections there.”

“Wow,” Nate said. I shrugged to keep modesty an option. “I can see that you are in love with dance.”

“Love is a strong word,” I said, choking a little at the sound of its syllables. “I enjoy it.”

“No,” Nate said, leaning into the table confidently. “You are enamored by it.”

I leaned back as far as my chair would let me and turned my head away from him.

“And what do you think gives you to the right to
assume
what I do and don’t
enjoy
?” I said, still not looking him in the eye.

“Point take
n,” Nate said. A light laugh curled his lips. “You know, I have been searching for a girl who is not afraid to bust my chops. I think I’ve finally found one.” He picked up his wine glass and lifted it into the air. “To having no filter.”

My eyes traveled the miles
. I sat forward to lift my own glass.

“Easy enough,” I said
and clinked glasses. The wine played with my tongue the same way I wished Nate would.

A waiter set d
own two fresh plates of seafood appetizers and served each of us a piece before exiting.

While I was skeptical with how it looked, it won me over as soon as it met my mouth.

“Caviar,” I said, filling the silence.

“Indeed,”
Nate said, polishing off his remaining portion. “So, you graduated from Julliard and dance as a backup dancer on world tours. I fail to believe you are only one-dimensional.”

I expressed my amusement while I finished eating.

“By the looks of this restaurant,” I said. “It’s hard for me to believe you are but one.”

“You’re judging me already, Molly?”
Nate said.

“You are putting words in my mouth,” I shot back.
“And really delicious food.”

He chuckled. “Now remember, you are paying for this.”

“That’s right. What did you do, pre-pay the waiter the difference?”

“Everyone has their secrets.” The smile faded on my face as the dark thoughts surfaced for the second time tonight. I turned my head away once more to compose myself and was happy when I saw my dinner plate being served.

Before the waiter refilled my glass, I took a gulp of wine when Nate wasn’t looking.

“I, uh, I love to cook,” I said. “Did I tell you that?”

I know I had, but I was starting to feel bad that this conversation was becoming all about me.

“You did mention that the night by your car,”
Nate said. “I bet that’s why you’re judging me right now.”

“No, no,” I said, playing with my curls before throwing my hands under the table. I mentally scolded myself for my bad manners. “I’m not judging you.”

“Well, that’s good to know,” Nate said shortly, not looking up from his plate. This made my hands fly back up to my hair.

“Did I say something that off
ended you?” I said. I can’t believe I allowed guys to make me feel this vulnerable.

“No, not at all,”
Nate said. He set his utensils down. “No, I… sorry. Sometimes I get so caught up in my love for eating that I lose track of where I am. I’ve been on this protein diet for the past three months that consists of boiled chicken and brown rice for every meal. I can’t tell you when the last time I ate real food was.”

I smiled with glee,
still playing with my hair.

“Maybe I will get to cook for you some time,” I said. It was at this point that I realized the wine was kicking in. “I mean, because sometimes I host venues.”

“Oh,” Nate said. “You are like the Molly of All Trades.”

He perused my neck line once more before piercing into the windows to my heart. Again, the majority of me wanted him to stop, but the inebriated snip-it allowed his wandering eyes to continue their journey.

“You know what?” Nate said, sitting back in his chair for the first time tonight. It was then that I realized I was sitting with my legs crossed, leaning to one side like a goddess. “I want to dance.”

My eyes scanned every one of his
muscles as they lifted his mass from the chair and scooted mine out. I rose an inch from his bowed face and gingerly stepped away so that he could scoot in my chair.

“I don’t think you know how to dance,” I said. “Am I going to have to lead?”

The corners of his mouth turned upward as his hand guided the small of my back to the dance floor. I watched as the waiters covered our food in warm plates and capped off our glasses once more. As he took my hand in his and pulled me gently closer, we side-stepped in unison to the beat.

“Oh, we have a natural,” I
said. Despite being a foot and a half taller than me, our lips were so close I could feel his hot breath hit mine in waves through his parted mouth.

“I think you still take the cake on that one,”
Nate said, before I led him into a swing that swept the edge of the dance platform. His muscles tensed beneath my hands.

“I won’t
let you fall,” I said.

“And nor will I,”
Nate said.

T
wo hours and another bottle of wine later, I was led up the sidewalk to my Manhattan abode. I turned around while I fished for my keys and saw Nate leaning against the railing one step down from where I stood.

“Um,” I said, awkwardly.

“You don’t have to invite me in, Molly,” Nate said, caressing the length of my arm as I handed him his suit jacket.

“Good,” I said. “I mean, because I’m not that kind of girl.”

“I’ve met too many of those types of girls,” Nate said before taking my hands in his. “I had a good time tonight.”

“Me too,” I whispered as his lips grazed mine. I felt the tingling shoot to my loins as they made contact. I became lost in the moment and let words slip out of my mouth unfiltered. “It’s the wine.”

“What?” Nate said with a smirk.

“Nothing,” I said pulling away in embarrassment.

“I agree,” Nate said. He was doing everything in his power not to bust out laughing. “It makes you soft.”

“
Mmm,” I said. I knew I had an inappropriate smile painted on my face but, as hard as I tried, I couldn’t wipe it away.

“Goodnight, Molly,”
Nate said.

“Goodnight,
Nate,” I said.

I turned
in for the night without looking back. Self-control reactivated.