One Night Stand (New Yorker III) (2 page)

Chapter One

He sat
at the bar, his eyes glued on the bronze beauty. Her skin was like a mocha
latte and her full lips gleamed from the almost-pink gloss. He could almost
taste them. He couldn’t see her eyes because her head was bent over a stack of
papers she had on her table. But he had a full view of her hair—thick, curly
and forced into a death grip at the back of her head. Her beige business suit
and the lack of color in anything she wore told him she was business oriented,
a career woman who didn’t have time for fairytales. She was serious and would
want to be treated as an equal.

He
smiled, knowing that she was the perfect description of a one night stand. But
part of him wanted to set her free…he wanted to release her hair, to let it loose
and see how wild it made her look. Usually he was confident in approaching a
woman but something about this one made him hesitate. He started to stand up
but sat back down. The aura around her said
fuck
off
.

“Don’t
try it,” the barman warned.

“Why?”
He smiled at his friend, amused by the concern in his eyes.

“Don’t
try it, Rich.” Sam shook his head. “She has a habit of castrating every man
that tries to approach her. Sometimes I think I should put a sign at her table—‘Beware’.”

“Don’t
be ridiculous.” Rich laughed at his over-dramatization. “She just needs someone
to thaw her out.”

“I
guess you’re the guy?”

“I’m
the guy.”

“You
are one of my closest friends and the owner of this restaurant. Before you
venture into the dragon-lady’s cave, could you leave a piece of paper that says
the restaurant is mine upon your untimely death?”

“Yeah
right.”
Rich
cleared his throat and stood up. He slowly closed the gap between him and the
beauty but, before he was even close to the table, her hand raised to stop him.
He froze and looked around and caught Sam’s broad grin. The ‘I-told-you-so’
expression decided him. He wasn’t going to fail, was determined to leave her
table with a number and his balls intact.

“I—”

“I said
no,” she spat out without even looking up at him.

“I just
wanted to ask if you need another table...” he started and, when she didn’t cut
him off, he went on, “I can see you’re pretty busy and you have a lot of stuff
on that one table. I thought you might want another one. I’ll bring it to you,
of course.”

He felt
his breath hitch as her head raised slowly. He stared into her distant eyes and
felt like he was swimming in a pool of honey. Although there was a hard set to
her face and jaw, her eyes sold her out. She was kind, sweet even. He wondered
why she hid all that behind a wall.

“I
never thought about that,” she said as she looked around her workspace. “I
guess I could use some more room.”

“You
might even be able to make room for a plate of food,” Rich added with his best
smile.

“I
guess I should eat something,” she said, seeming a bit lost. “I swear that was
my intention when I walked in here. But I got lost in all of this.”

“I’ll
bring you the table and call a waiter for you,” Rich offered and walked away.

* * *
*

Catalella
watched the man as he walked past her toward a waiter. The first things she had
seen when she looked up at the strange man were two beautiful aqua blue eyes
and a killer smile. She was glad he was gone because she didn’t know how long
she could pretend that he didn’t affect her in any way. There was an aura of
confidence about him that she liked. His six foot three frame was padded with
muscle. She couldn’t see much from all the clothing draped over him, so she let
her imagination fill in the rest. But what she could see was his taut, broad
chest, and how his jeans hugged the muscles in his thighs, and she liked it.
Physically he was delicious, and if she was the person she used to be she
wouldn’t have let a second pass before she praised his beauty.

But
life had forced her to change. She was done with men, and the only ones she had
patience with were the ones with the last name Ross. Her father and her brother
were the only men she needed in her life. Sure, they wouldn’t be able to give
her the intimacy she needed but she could depend on them. At this point in her
life, what she needed most was a pillar of strength and not a whirlwind
romance.

She
watched him as he walked back to her table. His smile was as wide as that of a
Cheshire cat. He was planning something and she knew his type of guy. But,
unlucky for him, he didn’t know the kind of girl she had been forced to become.
Her break up with Michael Mathews had taught her a thing or two about being
skeptical about every man she met.

“Over
here,” he said, as Catalella focused on the authoritative vibe he gave off as
he instructed the waiter where to put the extra table.

Once
she had arranged everything in her new space and placed her lunch order,
Catalella went back to her work. Her cold demeanor had protected her and not
let her down so far. It didn’t matter that he made her tingle in all the right
places, or that she could barely catch her breath under the intensity of his
gaze. Catalella wasn’t about to let him in only for him to destroy her on his
way out.

She
heard a chair being dragged towards her and lifted her head as he sat opposite
her. There were two tables between them, but that wasn’t enough of a distance.

“Thank
you,” she said in a dismissive tone, hoping that he would leave her alone. But
he didn’t. He sat there staring at her, with a smile and a quizzical look in
his eyes.

“You’re
welcome,” he said, and flashed his dazzling smile.

A trade mark,
Catalella thought.
I bet that’s how he gets all the ladies.

She
pushed her papers aside when her plate of salad arrived. All she wanted to do
was to sink her teeth into a big, juicy steak. But she couldn’t risk soiling
all her papers—they were the only copies. Plus, she needed her daily intake of
greens for her nutritious diet. Catalella was determined not to let any form of
sickness or
disease claim
her body ever again. She
hated how weak she felt when she had leukemia. She didn’t leave anything to
chance these days—a headache had her seeing a neurologist, she admitted herself
into hospital when she got a cough or flu, she dared the Manhattan traffic by
taking her own car so that she wouldn’t be exposed to secondary smoke and she
had a nutritionist on speed dial. She hated everything that had to do with the
hospital, but it was a necessary evil if she wanted to stay alive.

“The
usual, sir?” she heard the waiter ask.

The usual?
Here I thought that I was their most loyal customer. This guy even has a usual.
But having a usual made him a
creature of habit. Safe, predictable and maybe, just maybe, the kind of guy she
needed. But she didn’t recall ever seeing him in this restaurant before. Since
she started her job a year ago, De Alma
had
been her go to restaurant.

“Would
you like anything else?” It wasn’t until she was looking deep into the aqua
blues that she noticed she was staring. Catalella could hear a hint of humor in
his tone. It was obvious that he had noticed her ogling him.

“No
thanks, a glass of water.” She smiled weakly at the waiter.

“Do you
only eat salads?” She felt herself grow hot under the collar from the way he
studied her body. What exactly was he looking for? “You’re very curvaceous for
someone who only eats salads.”

The
desire that burned bright in his eyes was obvious, and the change in his tone
only expressed what his eyes said he was feeling.

“I
don’t want to get sauce all over my papers,” she said as she gestured towards
them.

“Oh.”

“Is
there something that you need?”
Go away.
Go away
.

“Food
and your company.”
He smiled at her, his eyes finally leaving her stack of papers.

“I
really want to be alone.”

“Why?”

“Honestly,
I don’t see how it is any of your business.” She wanted to take back her words
when the friendly expression on his face disappeared and hostility replaced it.

“Ice
queen,” he muttered.

“Excuse
me, what did you say?” Catalella pushed her plate aside and her arms crossed
over her chest, ready for a battle of words. He wasn’t going to insult her and
get away with it.

“Do you
have a boyfriend?” He smirked. “Let me rephrase that. Is there anyone who can
stand being in your presence for more than a second? Do you know anyone who
isn’t affected by your venomous tongue?”

Catalella
grinned back despite her exasperation. She wasn’t going to let him know how his
words cut deep into her. Ice Queen—she’d heard that before. People in the
office referred to her as the African-Latin-American Hitler. According to them
there was a bad mix in the test tube she had come from that made her sour
inside and out. She had heard every single possible joke thrown her way and she
never let anyone see how they hurt.

She
attempted to frame a response, but instinct had already clicked in and the
words flew out of their own accord.
“No, I don’t have anyone
not blood-related to me that can stand my venomous tongue.
But I had a
husband, and he didn’t leave me because I was an
Ice Queen
but because I kept on ‘almost’ dying. When he saw I
wasn’t dying soon enough he decided to divorce me.”

Shit! Did that come out of my
mouth?
Catalella
cursed herself as the man’s stoic look turned to one of pity. She hated being
pitied. She had seen how people looked at her and hovered over her when she was
sick, and had promised herself that she wouldn’t be the subject of such an
emotion ever again.

Catalella
stood, gathered her things, and looked around the room for the waiter who had served
her. But, although he took a step forward when she called him, he stopped.

“It’s
all right. Your lunch is on me,” the man said, his voice flat and his face expressionless.

“I can
pay for my own meal.” She tried calling for the waiter again but he didn’t
move.

“Don’t
be stubborn. I’ll pay for it.” The frustration was back in his voice and, oddly
enough, she was relieved.

“Fine,
suit yourself.”

Catalella
cradled her files and papers in her arm as she pulled her bag over her
shoulder. He watched as she stood up but followed her to the front door and
held it open for her, all the while avoiding her gaze. She had gotten used to
men not looking her in the eye. He grabbed her arm as she stepped out then said,
“I’m sorry you were married to your husband.”

No one
was sorrier than she was.

* * *
*

“Struck
out?” Rich stared at the bartender, unsure of what his reaction should be.

It was
obvious that he had hurt her with his words.
I’m sorry you were married to your husband…
What the hell was that?
He had set out to thaw out the ice princess but her chill had seeped into his
heart.

“She’s
damaged goods,” he said as he sat down at the bar. “She needs the sort of guy
that I’m not.”

“What
do you mean?”

Rich
shrugged his shoulders and stared down at the food he was served. He knew he
was going to see her again, but he had to make sure their next encounter was
pleasant.

* * *
*

Another solitary bedtime, a long sleep with nobody in her
bed except for herself and a pile of air… Catalella pulled the covers to her
chest as she stared at the white ceiling above her. She looked to her side and
was pleased that sleeping alone didn’t have as much of an effect on her
anymore. But it didn’t keep her from feeling lonely, especially not tonight
with the strange man intruding in her mind and making sleep impossible. She
took one of her pillows and cuddled it as she begged for sleep to come and take
her before she succumbed to the ache of knowing that hers was the only
heartbeat she would hear that night.

* * *
*

“Now I
know I’ve seen everything.”

Catalella
sat up when her assistant, Darcy’s, voice pierced her thoughts.

“What
did you say?”

Catalella
fussed with the papers in front of her. She didn’t know what they were for. Her
thoughts of the guy from
De Alma
had
occupied her mind for the better part of the week. There was nothing she would
have liked more than to get rid of him, but not even her work was helping. She
looked around her desk and wondered where the mountain of paper work had come
from.

“Catalella
Ross, daydreaming when she has the biggest account yet at her fingertips.”
Darcy barked out a laugh and took a seat across from her. “What’s going on with
you?”