The Reality of You (13 page)

Chapter 14

Kara
and I had played lots of pool during college, even won money from several wannabe
pool sharks. When I’d moved to New York, pool league night was one of her ways
to get me out of the apartment. We always went to the pool hall—the standard
paneled long room with ugly stained-glass lamps hanging over the tables and a
bar the length of the room—early to practice a few games before league night
started and to get our table in the corner. Thus, Kara was already here with
Jules. If Jules wasn’t busy, she came to watch. Not us, but the men.
 

Sitting in the far
back corner, Kara faced away from us. Jules was facing us, her eyes growing
wider than saucers when Reese and I stepped up to the table, causing Kara to
whip around. At the sight of Reese standing next to me, the cue stick dropped
from her hand. I should have told her about that kiss. Our showing up together
would have been less of a shock.

“Hey,” I said,
reaching for a chair and pulling out of Reese’s helpful grasp. “Sorry I wasn’t
here for the practice round. Um…I met a, um, friend for a drink.”

Once wide, Kara’s
eyes constricted to tiny slits as she stared at Reese.

Not sure what else
to do, I ignored her rudeness. “Kara and Jules, this is R—”

“Oh, you must be
Reese, the slave driving asshole,” Kara said, putting her hand out and acting
like a total jerk.

“Kara!” I hissed.
Though I was ninety-nine percent sure Monday wasn’t happening—our dating seemed
as farfetched as my being Reese’s secretary—her being a jerk was uncalled for.

“Hey,” she said with
a smirk, shaking Reese’s hand. “I’m just repeating what I kept hearing.” She dropped
Reese’s hand with a huff.

Reese just glanced
at me with raised brows.

“Lovely to meet you,
Reese,” Jules said while her stare devoured him. “Are you staying to watch the
ladies play?” She gestured to chair next to her. “There’s more than enough room.”

 
Kara’s irate gaze went from Reese to Jules.

Murder simmered in
the air.

Geesh. Kara didn’t
like Reese, that much was obvious, but her attitude seemed overboard. I felt
confused enough about the whole Reese-wanting-to-date-me thing, and Kara’s
obvious anger took my confusion to a whole other level.

Jules looked
innocently at Kara, who whipped her head to me.

“The other team is
ready. Go ahead and rack.” Kara turned to Jules, lifting the empty beer
pitcher—yeah, table service was nonexistent here. “Could you get us another
round? And Naomi a Coke?” Since I had a fierce competitive streak, I never
drank alcohol during pool. Only after I’d won.

When Jules and I
didn’t move fast enough, Kara shoved the pitcher at Jules. Jules smiled flatly
at Kara then moved toward the bar. Kara gestured impatiently to the couple
waiting near the pool table. I began to walk—on the balls of my feet—around the
table.

After saying hello
to the married couple we’d played previously, though I couldn’t recall their
names, I slowly and carefully racked the balls, teetering on Gracie’s damn
boots. Luckily, a stick lay on the side of the table, so I didn’t have to cross
the room for it.

I took a deep breath
and carefully positioned my body—I would die from embarrassment if I fell
over—for the break, aiming a bit left of the lead ball, but as I pushed the
stick forward, I noticed Kara and Reese in a heated argument. At least their
body language and tight expressions implied a heated argument. The bar was too
loud for me to hear their words.

Of course, the sight
of them fighting threw my aim off.

The cue ball bounced
over the balls, hit the far end of the table, and flung off the table, just
about slamming into Kara’s head. Luckily for both of us, Reese reached out and
caught it.

“Naomi!” she
screeched, her hands covering her head.

The team against us
tried to hide their laughs behind elbows and coughs.

“Sorry,” I said
weakly and slinked—tiptoed—back to our table, using the rubber end of the pool
stick as a cane.

As soon as I got
there, Kara gestured to her left. “He’s got to go.” Her head snapped to Reese.
Her eyes drove needles into him. “You have to go. You’re ruining her
concentration. She almost killed me.”

I teetered closer to
them. “I messed up and
he
saved you.”

“He shouldn’t be
here,” Kara said, glaring at him.

Reese’s stare back
was flat and unwavering.

The tension felt
thicker than my
con queso
dip.

Jules showed up and
stepped between them. She lifted the pitcher of beer. “I’ve got the bubbly and
an extra glass.” She poured a glass and handed it to Reese then yanked out a
can of Coke from her back pocket and handed it to me.

Kara now glared at
Jules.

The man half of the
couple came over, and Reese handed him the cue ball.

Jules handed Kara a
beer.

Reese took a sip of
his.

I opened my Coke and
glanced back at the pool table and the now broken balls before I shoved the
pool stick at Kara. “It’s your turn.”

She took it with a
huff, set her beer down, and marched around me.

“Sorry,” I mouthed.

Reese shrugged.
“Can’t win them all.”

“Ah, left your
egotistical panties at home?” I blurted without thinking.

His gaze warmed.
“You’re exceedingly interested in my underwear. Why is that?”

A blush crept onto
my cheeks, but before I could reply, Kara shoved the pool stick in my hand.
“Solids. I missed, and we’re behind two.”

We all turned and
watched the woman part of their team sink two striped balls. Luckily, she
missed her third shot. Reese took the chair next to Jules and looked at me
expectantly.

Like a ballerina on
crack, I tiptoed my way to the table, lined up for the next shot—imagining
Reese staring at me and teetering on Gracie’s stupid boots—and missed my target
by a mile.
Between him watching and
the damn high-heeled boots, I would play like crap all night. And Kara did not
have the skills to save us.

With me sweating
over each shot and Kara scowling at Reese as Jules sat next to him talking like
she was at a soirée, my championship prediction lost most of its conviction.
Kara and I couldn’t hit a pocket to save our lives. Reese did need to go, and I
needed to figure out a way to cancel with him on Monday. I also needed to get
it together. And inner Fangirl needed to quit screaming with excitement that
Reese was here, and she
had
to stop
ogling him every chance she got. Dressed in a suit, he looked out of place in
the bar but totally hot, and I wasn’t the only one noticing. Women from all
corners of the bar were glancing his way.

Luck was on our side
when one of the members of the other team accidently sank the eight ball two
turns later. Kara, Jules, and I let out a cheer. The other team scowled at us.
I turned toward Reese, lost my footing, and fell into him.

He caught me, a
smirk on his closed lips. As we stared at one another, his long, hard body
pressing against mine and the scent of him filling my senses, the world stopped
spinning and the notion of canceling on Monday floated out of my mind.
 

Reese bent his head
near my ear. I expected him to say something sexy. Instead, he kissed—kind of
sucked—the skin behind my ear.
Whoa, that
felt nice.
Then he whispered, “For good luck.”

He straightened up
but stared down at me, and the confusion of the last few hours evaporated as I
semi melted under his warm hazel gaze that promised a lot more than that kiss.
All of my daydreams curled and compressed into the space between us, filling it
with longing that I couldn’t seem to stop until it overwhelmed me.

Hell, high water, or
Kara’s wrath, I was dating this man. If just for three weeks, then so be
it.
 
I’d slink in and out of work like
the Pet Detective as long as needed. He made me want to be a better slinker.

Kara tugged me away.
“It’s your turn, Naomi.”

Stunned at the power
of his kiss—the skin behind my ear tingled—I smiled weakly at Reese then went
and missed my mark. Again.

By the time I
finished, Reese had left, Kara was glaring at me, and Jules was at the bar
getting a refill. Upset that he’d left, I glared back at her then reined in my
irritation. To a certain point, I got why she didn't want me dating Reese. He
went through women like Jules
and
Kara went through shoes. And if Kara were dating him, I would be worried too.
He had the capability to destroy my heart, but I was going into this with my
eyes wide open. I wasn’t dreaming of butterflies in my stomach and falling in
love. I was imagining hot sex. That’s all there was to it.

I handed her the
pool stick. “You know, I’m aware that this is going to be a fling type of
thing.”

She leaned the stick
against the table. “Besides having an extremely hard time envisioning you not
getting attached to him, I don’t get him.”

I reared back and
had to grab a chair for support. “What do you mean?”

“Why is he chasing
after you?”

My gaze constricted.

She rolled her eyes.
“Don’t go have a hissy fit on me. He dates models, socialites, ballerinas… semi
celebrities.” She gave my makeshift outfit a once-over. “You collect snow
globes and wear Hello Kitty pajamas. You’re, like, stuck at thirteen as a
defense mechanism. You’re nothing like the usual sophisticated women he dates.”

If looks could do
damage, Kara would be on flat on the floor.

“Stop it. I know
you’re awesome. And too good for him, but yeah, I’m worried about him
destroying how far you’ve come. And you’re almost out of your imposed shell.
What happens when he hurts you?”

“We’ll date. We’ll
enjoy each other for a few weeks. Then it will be over.”

She groaned and
grabbed the stick. “When are you supposed to see him again?”

“Monday.”

She shook her head
and stalked toward the pool table.

While she shot, I
finally changed my shoes.

Kara stomped back
over after missing her shot. “I thought you decided he was an asshole,” she
whined, hands on hips.

My head tilted in a
nod. “He can be. But he is also hot, delicious, and the star of my day and
night dreams.”

“You read too many
of those damn smut books.”

“Hopefully I won’t
be reading much over the next couple of weeks,” I blurted, and Kara scowled.

Jules set a full
pitcher of beer and a can of Coke on the table. “Hopefully you’ll be starring
in your own smut fantasy.”

Kara grimaced. “Why
are you encouraging her?”

Jules folded her
arms across her chest. “Why are you so against him?”

“Because he’s a
woman-using dick, and I don’t want him using Naomi.”

“Per the gossip
columns?” I asked.

“Per reality,” Kara
grumbled. “What do you think he’s doing with all those women he’s been
photographed with? Having late-night tea?”

Instead of
responding, I whipped around to the pool table. I was sick of her constantly
reminding me of Reese’s past. Thoroughly aggravated, I slammed all the striped
balls in within two turns. Yeah, I played better when incensed—and without
heels. On my third turn, I called my shot and banked the eight ball off the
side to slam inside the corner pocket.

Kara rushed over to
give me a high five.

I gave her my middle
finger.

Chapter 15

When
Jules threw a cocktail party, it was an authentic cocktail party. Like ‘50s
nostalgia crap. Not only did I have to wear a cocktail dress, fake eyelashes,
and an updo that was an ode to the late, great Amy Winehouse, but the drink
choices included martinis, manhattans, old-fashioneds, and gimlets. Yeah, yuck.
Between trying to suck down a gimlet and wearing a little black dress that
Jules had made me squeeze into, I was having the time of my life. Greatest ritzy
‘50s birthday ever. Not.

At least Jules,
knowing my issues with shoes, had found me a pair of black, satin flats.

To top things off,
Jules had planned this party months ago and invited every single man she knew
from the ages of twenty to thirty-five, since the goal was to hook me up with
someone. Thus, along with the non-delicious drinks, delicious men were all over
the place. They practically hung from the chandeliers.

And yes, Jules had
chandeliers. Her apartment was the first floor of a once huge brownstone
townhouse. Though one-bedroom, it had a huge living room with a beautiful
fireplace, a dining room with a table that sat ten, and a massive kitchen. Five
years ago, Jules had specifically rented this apartment because of the possible
party space. And the shiny fabrics of the furniture, crystal-dripping lamps,
and huge vases kind of went with the posh ‘50s party theme.

At the moment, Jules
was introducing me to the fourth man from her office. Most were models. Most
were hot. Jules worked in a modeling agency as a director, so she had the
connections to the goods. And while the goods looked good, I seemed to be
immune to model charm because I found their young pretty-boy looks irritating.
Some were younger than I was, like, by five years. Feeling like I’d traveled
back in time to some sweet sixteen party, I smiled, nodded, answered
appropriately, and sipped on my awful drink. Ugh, I was never going to finish
the gimlet. Whoever had determined that pine needles and lime made a good combo
had been very drunk at the inception of this cocktail.

The damn night was
going to last forever. Kara and Avery were on opposite sides of the room,
flirting with the plethora of men. Other than the four of us, there were only a
handful of females at the party. Jules liked to control the odds.

Perry Como played in
the background while Jules and one of the models described a mishap behind the
stage at a fashion show.
Exciting stuff,
losing the perfect shoes amid racks of designer clothes,
I thought
sarcastically.

Suddenly, Kara
wedged between them to stand in front of me, looking like she might strangle
me. “What the hell is
he
doing here?”
she asked from between clenched teeth.

I stared at her over
my half-full, lukewarm gimlet. “What are you talking about?”

“Naomi,” Kara said
in a tone that reminded me of my mother or the older sister she tended to act
like.

“Seriously, I don’t
have a clue to whom you’re referring.”

She pointed toward
the entryway. A few feet into the room, Reese stood talking to Avery. My jaw dropped.
What the hell was
he
doing here?

Kara dropped her
hand, smacking it on her thigh. “Why would you invite him?”

Reese is here!
Fangirl screamed, yet Kara’s
exasperation was ruining the excitement. “I didn’t, but back off—”

Jules stepped
between us before all hell broke loose. “Kara, I invited him.”

Kara’s eyes threw
daggers at Jules. “When?” she asked before she answered her own question. “Last
night,” she said, groaning. “Jules, how could you? Especially, with”—she waved
an arm, gesturing around the room—“all of these available men who aren’t
him
.”

Jules beamed
mischievously. “Well, I simply asked.” She leaned closer to Kara and me,
pointing a gloved finger at my chest. “She gets to choose who she dates
regardless of your preferences. Let it go, Kara. She’s a big girl.” Jules took
me by the arm and dragged me across the room. Along the way, she whispered, “I
think he is fabulous.”

That makes two of us,
I agreed internally as nervousness
bubbled in my stomach. While Kara and Jules were arguing, I still hadn’t gotten
over that Reese was here.
 

“A dirty martini
then?” Avery asked him as Jules and I approached them.

In the middle of a
nod, he noticed me. His features seemed to light up when they settled on me in
the tight, black dress.

Looking between us,
Avery smiled widely, her eyes had practically turning into little hearts. “Then
I’ll go get that.”

Jules held out a
gloved hand. “So glad you could make it, Reese.”

“So glad you invited
me.” Shaking her daintily gloved hand, Reese glanced at me. “Very interesting
party,” he said, staring at me—specifically, my body in the black dress.

Jules’s little black
number felt way, way too tight at the moment.

With a light smirk
on her red-painted lips, Jules said, “Please mingle and enjoy the drinks. I
need to check on the food.”

She sounded so much
like a matchmaker that a giggle almost escaped me.

“Sooooo,” I said
when Jules was gone, trying not to devour him with my eyes. He was wearing a
tuxedo, looking James Bond hot times ten. He blew every single one of the
models in the room away.

He tilted his head.
“So?”

One of the many
models brushed by us, murmuring, “Excuse me.”

Avery showed up with
his dirty martini, and after thanking her, he gestured with his jaw toward a
corner of the room that was unoccupied. “Shall we move to somewhere with a
little less traffic?”

As we shuffled our
way through the mass of models, I tried not to ogle his ass, but I couldn’t
help it. The man had a crazy-fine ass. Even the suit couldn’t hide its gorgeous
definition.

Once we settled in
the corner, my stare at him was cool. “You could have warned me in a text or
something that you were coming.”

 
His brows lifted. “And ruin Jules’s surprise?”

 
My fingers drummed on the side of my glass. I
was getting good at being a nervous wreck on the inside while maintaining a
cool composure on the outside. “Jules is not the one making you dinner next
week.”

“True. Nor is she
the one discussing that I can be demanding…in other places.” He lifted his
martini glass, staring over the rim at me with hot, hot eyes.

The sly, Cheshire
smirk on his face caused me to blurt, “You’re not one of those rich guys into
freaky sex? Bondage? Kink?” I squeaked the last word, realizing that, one, I
had actually asked those questions, and two, my smutty fantasy reading had just
invaded my real life. I almost slapped my hand over my own mouth.

 
His lids lowered at the same time that he
lowered his glass. He leaned toward my ear. “I’m into women. Whatever else
happens, or what I demand, is because of that. No hang-ups or fetishes drive my
desire, just female flesh. And right now, I’m into you.”

Whoa. Wow. Whoa.
My face, my ear, and other body
parts—lower body parts—burned from his words and the low timbre of his voice.
For once, I was speechless—Fangirl had
finally
fainted—and had to restrain myself from fanning my face.

He stood back up,
lifting his drink. “Happy birthday, Ms. Porter. You look stunning this
evening.”

“Um…ah…thank you,
Mr. Jordon.” I raised my own drink and took a fortifying gulp of the nasty stuff.
He had blatantly and sexily said that he was into me.
Me!
So the hell what if his interest was just for the moment.

“Twenty-five?” he
asked, pulling me from
my
internal
shrieking. Fangirl was passed out cold.

 
I nodded, finding speech difficult after he’d
whispered in my ear.
 

“So then we’re three
years part,” he said smugly.

Instantly recalling
my buzzed-up talk in Puerto Rico about his age, I asked, “When is your
birthday?”

“Not until October.”

“Three
and
a half years then,” I returned in a
smugger tone than his previous one.
 

“Are you always
mathematically precise? Or precise in general?”

“Precise when it
comes to certain things.” Like soccer and my fascination with this man. Other
things like cooking and cleaning? Not so much. “Since you’re here, give me some
inspiration for Monday’s meal?”
 

“Oh no, Ms. Porter.
I’m letting you do all the work on that one. Just let your imagination go
wild.”

I was thinking that
my imagination never got wild enough for him when Kara crashed our little party
for two.

“Well, lookie who
showed up to our little party,” she said like an evilly cackling villain. Her
ice-blue dress edged with faux fur only helped the villain image.

“Hello, Kara,” Reese
said tightly.

“Nice suit. Very
nice touch,” she said spitefully, looking over him with a mocking gleam in her
eye. She took a long sip of her yucky ‘50s drink. “Out to make quite the
impression, aren’t we, Reese?”

“Actually,” he said,
his tone level, “I have a charity event I need to get to.”

Kara’s twisted
expression instantly smoothed. “Oh, that’s too bad.”

It was bad. Very
bad. I wanted to stare at Reese or his tuxedo ass all night. That would be the
perfect birthday present.

Servers dressed in
little, wide skirts and high-heeled pumps were coming around the room, carrying
trays of appetizers: little things like olives, something wrapped in bacon,
bright Jell-O cubes with fruit floating in it, salmon deviled eggs, and mini
meatloaf cupcakes doused with gourmet ketchup. If Jules went authentic, she
went all the way, because everything had a bright plastic toothpick in it.

At the moment, I
wanted to grab a toothpick and stuff it up my roommate’s nose. Two toothpicks
to be precise—one for each nostril.

“Thanks for the
condolences.” Reese’s gaze was flat before turning fully to me. “Walk me out?”

“Sure,” I said from
my mouth while my brain made an arm pump and said,
Hell yeah!

Kara gave us both
the stink eye.

Reese took my gimlet
and set both of our glasses on a passing tray. He wrapped his hand around my
arm. “Have a nice evening,” he said in a dry tone to Kara.

At the end of the
hallway, we stopped in front of the door, facing each other, inches apart. A
large-winged bird, or maybe two, flapped in my stomach.

My normal
nervousness helped keep me from attacking him in the tuxedo. Seriously, I never
imagined being a tux girl, but holy hot hell, I could dry-hump his suit.
Preferably with him in it, but… I reined in my hormones.

“I’m sorry she is
being so rude. She’s not as bad as she’s been. She’s just protective of me.”

He raised an
eyebrow.

“Thinks you’re going
to stomp all over my weak-willed heart.”

“Is it?”

I cocked my chin,
giving him a questioning look.

“Is your heart that
weak willed?”

Yes, it had been, but
hopefully strike three had ended that. “Nope. But there are other parts—”

A movement at the
end of the hall caught my attention. Kara stood there, her back partially to
us, pretending not to pay attention.

Beyond annoyed —I
wanted a kiss at least, since it was
my
birthday—I grasped the doorknob and one of Reese’s lapels, opened the door, and
pulled us both out into the outer hallway. Within five seconds, a silhouette
showed on the other side of the frosted glass of the door.

Within two steps, I
yanked Reese out on the porch. Though spring was around the corner, it was a
bit nippy outside.

“Willing to brave
the cold for me, Ms. Porter?”

I tried to give him
a smirk, but my teeth clattered instead.

“Here,” he said,
slipping off his jacket and setting it on my shoulders.

Not only was the
jacket warm, but his delicious scent surrounded me. It took every ounce of my
willpower not to lift the jacket around my nose and take a deep sniff.

His hands settled on
my waist. “Your roommate’s not joining us for dinner Monday, is she?”

“No way in hell,” I
said, forcing my nerves to calm, gazing up at him, scooting closer, and taking
the position so his lips could cover mine with ease.

His eyes gleamed in
the near dark. His hands tightened on my waist and yanked me closer. I became
breathless with anticipation.

The door opened.
“Oh, excuse me,” Kara said, lifting the garbage bag in her hand.

Reese and I
reluctantly stepped apart. Reality was becoming as frustrating as my daydreams.

She stepped onto the
porch between us. “Just taking out the rest of the trash.” She gave Reese a
pointed look at the word
trash
.