The Club (5 page)

I push away
all my crazy thoughts and dive into my work. I remember several companies I had
been tracking and saving for a risk taker. I don't even notice I’ve finished
the day when Brandon comes back in the office. He looks taken aback. “What is
going on with you? Did you actually get some work done?”

I lift my gaze
from the computer and nod, blinking the strain off. “Yeah. What time is it?”

“Six. Did you
find anything for Logan and Hugh?”

I nod but the
time picks at my brain. “What do we have on the calendar for tonight?”

He shrugs. “I
have drinks with Hugh.”

“Drinks,
shit!” I jump up and run for the door, grabbing my bag. “I’m late meeting Bec
for drinks.”

We hurry to
the elevator together. He’s glowing from the prospect of drinks with Hugh, I
can see the excitement on his handsome face. “So Hugh, huh?”

He nods
nervously.

“He seems
pretty cool.” I add, regardless of not even noticing him beyond the smooth
talking and soft hands.

“It’s weird
‘cause he’s a client, but I think he’s sort of Logan’s assistant, so it’s not
too bad.”

I nudge him.
“Just don't over think it.”

The elevator
dings to the lobby and we rush out together, splitting at the door with waves.

When I get to
the bar it’s packed as usual and full of nothing but the regular sausage party.
Well, and Bec, who looks annoyed at my tardiness. It’s surprising she’s early.
“Hey.” I sit down and sigh, leaning back in the booth she picked for us. Thank
God it is not a round table in the middle of the floor. I feel like we are on
display there.

“Hey,” she
sighs too, passing me the drink she ordered for me. Something about her is
weird.

“Oh my God, my
day was crazy.” I yawn, taking a sip of my wine and notice she has a hickey on
her collarbone. Her shirt is off to the side, showing it off. I point at it.
“What are we nineteen? What is this?”

“Uhh well,
it’s nothing.” She hangs her head, groaning. “It was a little too hot and heavy
earlier this morning. I thought I put erase paste on it.” She lifts her head,
narrowing her gaze. “But that's not why we’re here, is it? So you can’t talk
about it at all?” She clenches her fist in frustration.

“Nope.” I
shake my head. “But if you guessed stuff and I just nodded, it wouldn’t be me
telling you per se.” I wink at her.

She rubs her
hands together. “I see, uhhh. Okay, umm . . . did you have
sex with someone?”

I shake my
head no and feel the instant shame of me begging and him denying.

“Did a guy
touch your vagina?” she giggles asking me that. I nod and smile. “Was he hot?”

“We wear
masks, so I don’t know.” I shrug and feel my face getting hot, just thinking
about him.

“Hmmmm masks,
kinky. So he touched your vagina but you didn't have sexy time—also
kinky.”

I nod.

“Did you O?”

I nod again,
flushing.

“Are you going
back?” She vibrates with excitement as she downs her vodka tonic. “Give me your
cell.” She holds her hand out. I hand it to her not cluing in until it’s too
late. “There, it’s done!”

“Oh my God,
did you resend the text?”

She snickers
with evil delight. “So was it an orgy?”

I nod, sipping
again. “I don't think I need this though. I got asked out at work today. I am
not as messy as everyone thinks I am.”

“Holy crap!
Did you say yes?”

“No, he’s a
client, Bec.”

“Who cares? If
he was hot then you should have said yes.” She reaches across the table and
smacks my arm and then waves to the waiter. “What’s his name?”

“Logan Bennett.
I have to use the ladies’ room.” I get up, making my way through the crowd of
people. I am shoved lightly by the people next to me. I sigh, turning and
coming face to face with the one and only.

“Sorry about
that. The guy behind me got a little overzealous.” Logan gives me a grin. “Are
you following me?”

My eyes roll
themselves, with flair. “Certainly not. I am having a drink with a friend. And
I would never follow someone; I am not that desperate, Mr. Bennett.”

“Logan,
please.” He cocks his eyebrow. “If we’re going to be partners, Logan.”

I nod. “Have a
nice night.” I slip past him and make my way through to the bathroom. When I
finish I go back to my table on the other side of the room, avoiding his side
of the bar. I can avoid him but it seems his stare finds me even in the crowd.
He lifts his glass, watching me constantly.

When I get
back to the table she gives me a look. “So, why didn't you say yes to a date?”

I slump into
the chair. “My ex-husband is having a baby and getting married. I went to a
weird masked sex club last night and let a stranger touch me. I don't even know
why I did it. I just remember feeling amazing and everything being fun, no
matter the act or consequences. I don't need to add drinks with a client to my
list of pretty bad shit this month has entailed.” I lift my phone out of my
purse and send a quick message to the mystery number.

“Who are you
texting?”

I lift my
drink, grinning back at her. “I am washing my hands of the mystery fun club. I
am done. I don't need to start treating sex casually just because my heart got
broken and my husband never stopped dating. I got caught up in it last night
but I’m good now.”

She looks
disappointed but doesn't argue the fact I have never been the type of girl who
throws caution to the wind.

I glance down
at my drink, processing everything that has stretched into such a small amount
of time. Bec boots me under the table. I lift my gaze suddenly to see the grin
on her face as her eyes dart to the approaching Logan Bennett. I sigh as he
reaches our table. “If you won’t join me for a drink, I decided to join you.”
He pulls up a chair and sits. All of his movements are smooth and premeditated.
He reaches a hand across the table at Bec. “Logan Bennett.”

She instantly
beams. “Ahhh, the infamous Mr. Bennett. Rebecca Collins.”

He nods.
“Lovely to meet you, Ms. Collins.” His dark-blue eyes dart to me. “Even
lovelier to hear my name has been mentioned.”

I roll my
eyes. Bec shimmies from the booth, giving me a knowing look. “Excuse me for a
moment.”

I glare but it
does nothing. She leaves us there alone.

“Look, Logan,
I don't want to be rude but—”

“What happened
to Mr. Bennett? I like it when you call me that.” He interrupts me, leaning
closer than I am comfortable with. He reaches up, moving a piece of hair that's
escaped the bun on my head. “God, you are beautiful!”

I pull back.
“Stop. I’m not into the smooth-talker bullshit.” I roll my eyes again. I’m
afraid that's going to be my look for the evening.

“I’m not
trying to be smooth. I just want you to have one drink, so I can show you that
I am a nice guy.” Something about his blue eyes is familiar. Not the shade but
maybe the look in them. “I don't want you to think I’m trying to play you.”

“Well, then
starting off with the ever cheesy compliment might have been a poorly planned
move.”

He sighs.
“Have I offended you by being attracted to you? For a confident girl you seem
awfully guarded.”

I bite my lips
but somehow it slips out. “I got divorced this last couple weeks and my ex is
having a baby with a child. She’s much younger and she is flowy—does that
make sense? She’s cool and calm and goes with the flow.”

“Everything
you’re not.”

His statement
stings but I nod, glad we’re finally both on the same page. “Exactly.”

His eyes
sparkle as he speaks through a wry grin. “If he never saw you for what you are
then he never deserved you. Finding a laid back, hipster, young girl is not
hard these days. They’re everywhere. Finding a sophisticated woman who is
driven and successful is much harder. Girls in their twenties who want to be
taken care of, looked after, and loved because they are young and tight and
beautiful are a dime a dozen. They all want a Mr. Grey of their very own. They
want us to be rich and successful and mysterious. They don't realize we want
the same thing in women. We want you to be successful and to know what you want
in life.” He leans across the table closer, too close, but he doesn't look like
he wants to kiss me. He speaks softly, brushing his words across my lips,
kissing me with them. “What do you want, Hannah?”

I gulp. It’s
perfectly timed but the sarcastic side of me rescues me from the moment of
unplanned intimacy. “A hipster guy I can coddle and mother so he can be
artistic and write me songs.”

“This is
exactly why I am here at this table. I adore your flippancy.” He laughs,
leaning back. The comment has broken the ice but the kiss of words still
lingers upon my mouth.

I nod. “One
drink and then you go away and we speak when we have to for business. Fine.”

He lifts his
scotch to me. “To our business deals.”

“That I can
drink to.” I sip my drink, glancing about the bar for my dear, sweet friend who
has vanished. My phone doesn't vibrate with a text from her, but I know she has
left me there, alone.

He drinks
slowly, staring at me in a way I don't think I understand. His instant
attraction is annoying and predictable. I finish my drink off in three gulps
and place it down on the table. “I am exhausted. Thank you for the drink.”

He stands,
leaving his drink and holding an arm out for me. “I will escort you home. You
cannot walk at this hour alone.”

I am about to
argue when it dawns on me he’s right. Bec has abandoned me. I nod. “Fine.” We
walk through the crowd I swear has thickened since we arrived. It’s happy hour
and everyone is looking incredibly joyful. I glance back at him as we walk out.
“I need to text Bec and make sure she made it home all right.”

He grins. “I
assumed she had stayed on the other side of the bar. Has she gone home?”

I shrug,
sending a message on my phone quickly. As soon as we are out on the cool
sidewalk I receive her response. She is home and indisposed but will want
details in the morning. I shake my head, putting my phone back into my purse.

“Have you
lived here long?” I ask, desperate for some kind of conversation to fill the
void now that we are on the street and the sounds of the crowds have
diminished.

He shakes his
head. “No. I was separated, like you, two years ago and came out to the city
then. I moved from California.”

“All the way
to New York?”

He nods, I
think desperate to seem casual about it, but I can see emotion in his dark-blue
eyes. “I needed a fresh start.”

He no longer
seems smooth. I like this side of him better. “When did you take up mergers and
acquisitions?”

His smile
comes back and he’s instantly charming. “I have always been in this line of
work. My father owned a small printing press when I was in college. I started
investing my gambling winnings and got lucky with my portfolio and when my
father’s business got into trouble I purchased it from him.” He looks up into
the night sky, taking a deep inhale. “I loved the feel of taking something
someone took only so far and making it better. A year later I sold it for twice
what I paid.” He grins like he’s a schoolboy gloating over a football match.

“Your father
must have been proud.”

He shakes his
head. “He was not. He imagined I would run the business like he had.” He turns
onto my street without me directing him.

“My father has
never been proud of me either.” I scoff. “He wanted grandchildren. That is all.”

He lowers his
face, looking at me with a sideways glance. “We have to be who we are, not who
they want us to be.”

It makes me
smile, a true and honest-to-God smile.

He stops in
front of my building. I look at him, puzzled at who he has become as the night
has worn on. “Thank you for tonight. It was fun, Mr. Bennett.”

“Back to the
last name, are we?” He winces, reaching for my hand and lifting it in the air.
When he presses his lips to the back of my hand I shudder. I know that kiss.
But he doesn't give me a chance to recall where I know him from. He nods,
stepping back and releasing me from his charms. “I had a good time tonight as
well, Ms. Edwards.”

I glance back
at the building. “How did you know where I lived?”

“It is a
smaller city than you know.” He bows once, turns and walks away, leaving me to
stare after him, puzzled and intrigued all at once.

“Good evening,
Ms. Edwards.” George has the door when I turn.

The smile
stuck on my face stays for our greeting. “Good evening, George. How are you?”

He nods.
“Well, ma’am.”

“Have a lovely
night.” I wave as I walk to catch the elevator up to my floor.