The Reality of You (2 page)

We’d been roommates
all through college. She had a job in human resources in a placement company
here in New York, where she and her business-oriented family were from. I’d
returned home once I got my degree, mentally and physically recovering from the
car accident and being dumped—again. My body had taken months to heal, my mind
had still been digesting that I wasn’t getting married, and my broken dreams of
Olympic glory on the soccer field had been hard to come to terms with. I’d been
playing soccer since four, had been on a Division I college team, and had been
considered a shoo-in for the next Olympic team. Leaving it behind had proved
harder than I’d ever imagined.
 

Stuck in depression,
I’d been working a part-time minimum wage job at a grocery store and living
with my parents in Wisconsin. It had taken Kara a whole year to talk me into
moving. Eventually, I couldn’t stand looking at my pitiful face in the mirror
anymore or my mother begging me to change into
clean
pajamas at least if I were going to lie on the couch all day.

Kara’s beady gaze
told me that I kept letting the past control me, still sat under that umbrella
of depression.

I heaved out a sigh.
“Fine. You win.”

Her forehead
unscruched and she smiled wickedly. “Don’t I always?”

Yeah, she did. We’d
become close friends within the first months of college, but after the
accident, I’d been left feeling indebted to her. Though I’d been a moody,
depressed piece of shit in the hospital and more after my fiancé dumped me,
Kara had stood by me, helped me, even stayed an extra four months to help me
finish my final semester.

After doing so much
for me, along with the fact that she felt like the sister I’d never had, I’d
walk on coals for the crazy bitch.

Chapter 2

Turds.
One sat next to me. Two were across from me. Kara sat to my right. They each
had some kind of jackass drink: dry martini, cosmopolitan, Manhattan, and one
neat, overpriced single malt scotch. Except for me. I drank beer. American
beer. From the tap, thank you very much.

The guy next to me
kept trying to peek down my shirt. Really? He had to be at least thirty. The
guy across from me kept bragging about his job and name-dropping all the
celebrities he’d met through his marketing firm. Apparently, famous stars
needed his fabulous marketing skills to be even more famous. The third guy
talked nonstop about his motorcycle. It was a Harley. He rode it every weekend.
Had it custom made. Wannabe. The first guy continued peeking down my shirt. He
seriously needed to visit a strip club. Immediately.
As in leave and find one now.

I remained quiet and
sipped my beer.

Kara had
straightened my wavy, brown hair, applied lots of mauve eye shadow to make my
light brown eyes pop, and dressed me in a pair of her designer jeans and a
sweater with a plunging neckline. So yeah, I looked like I wanted attention
from these douchebags.

A beady stare
shifted toward my cleavage.

Where
had Kara met these jackasses? And why oh why would she
think they’d be possible candidates for me to date? My dating was all Kara
thought about. She deliberated about it more than I did, which ended up being a
lot. Okay, when they’d sat down, two of the three jackasses had appeared
attractive, but after half an hour of antics, all attraction had dimmed.
Seriously, even if my lunches were spent daydreaming about a certain hot,
unattainable guy, personality mattered much, much more to me than appearances.

After downing my
second beer, I had to escape, if only for a long bathroom break. I snuck off
without a word while the bragging continued. In the marbled room, I unhurriedly
applied lipstick. I fluffed my hair. I washed my hands. Women came and went. I
dabbed on cologne. I reapplied lipstick. I rewashed my hands.

“Really, Naomi?”
Kara said from behind me as I wiped down the dry counter around the sink with a
paper towel.
 

I couldn’t help a
smirk as my eyes met hers in the mirror. “What? I sprayed water all over.
Merely being a good citizen.”

“You’ve been in here
for almost a half hour.”

“Hasn’t been twenty
minutes. I have two more minutes to reach my time-allotted twenty.”

Stepping next to me,
Kara adjusted blond locks around her shoulders. With light blond hair and
naturally big boobs, no one noticed the big—it really wasn’t—nose she
complained about. Well, except for her. Funny though, Kara was always going on
and on about how, if I dressed right, my darker hair coloring in contrast with
my fair skin paired with my toned body were the perfect recipe for sexy. But I
was sure it was my pert nose that she envied most.

Finished with
arranging her hair to frame her chest, she started arranging
my
hair. “Naomi, you’re not going to get
back on the bike if you hide in the restroom. Or sit sulking over your beer. I
know you want this. You read so many of those smutty romance books and watch
that guy at lunch that it’s obvious you want this. You want this, right?” she asked,
suddenly sounding worried.

“Well, books and men
across the way are safe. I’m not ready to get dumped again.”

She fluffed the hair
at my temple. “You can’t really count the first two.”
 

“Well, my heart
does,” I said stubbornly. From Jake, my eighth-grade boyfriend—yeah, that
wasn’t going to last, but tell that to my thirteen-year-old heart—to my high
school love, Shane—I’d spent three years with
that cheating douchebag—to my college fiancé, each one had broken
my heart. I’d never been the jealous or clingy type, rather the easygoing fun
girlfriend. Yet I’d gone through the wringer with every single one of my
relationships in the end. Obviously, the last had been the worst.

“Middle school and
high school don’t count, Naomi,” she said as if reading my mind. “That’s puppy
love, but James…” She dropped her hand and clenched the edge of the sink.
“Yeah, I get your heartbreak there. You two were inseparable for over two
years.
I
was stunned when he broke
your engagement and beyond pissed when he started dating that gymnast…”
Noticing my despondent look in the mirror, she flinched.

James had been one
of the soccer team’s trainers, so we had started as friends, slowly moved
toward dating, had the same interests—soccer—fallen in love, and gotten
engaged. Yet the moment my future career had fallen apart, James and I had
fallen apart too. The accident had not only broken my body, but apparently my
connection to him. Though he’d never admit it, I was sure that he had wanted an
Olympic wife more than me. And though everything about him ending us had hurt,
that had hurt the most. It still hurt.

Kara’s expression
turned stern. “It’s been over two years. You have to stop letting the accident
and James hold you back. I’m not saying go and fall in love like usual. Just
live a little, date widely, and maybe even get your confidence back. Maybe even
think about coaching again.”

I let out a sad
sigh. Dating and falling in love had once brought a lovely rush of excitement
and warm, glowing feelings. I probably did fall into too fast, but now, all I
could imagine was heartbreak and tears along with depression and gallons of ice
cream.

No. Thank. You.

And coaching? My
coaching at the collegiate level seemed on par with my becoming a dominatrix. I
just couldn’t see it anymore, other than as a fantasy.

When Kara stepped
back, I shot the paper towel into the basket across the room.
Score
. “It’s more me I’m scared of. I
obviously have a problem with the guys I’m attracted to, but those three are nothing
I want,” I said, a grimace twisting my overly coated lips.

Her hands fisted on
her hips. This seemed to be her perpetual stance with me. “They’re not that
bad.”

“Oh, yes they are.
Worse than bad. And if that moron next to me looks down my shirt one more time,
he’s going to be wearing his next martini.” I wouldn’t waste a beer on such a
pervert.

Kara’s brows rose.
“Tell me you’re kidding. Tell me you’re being paranoid.”

I pointed to my
chest. “When the girls are uncomfortable and start blushing, it’s true.”

Her eyes rolled.
“Fine. I’ll sit next to him. However, we
are
staying for one more drink.”

“He won’t have to
peek much,” I said.

Kara cannot go out
without her cleavage on display.
My name
is Kara.
Going to bar. Must show
boobs
.

“Maybe he’ll put a
dollar or two in there.” I pointed to
her
chest.

“Shut up,” she said,
laughing and reaching for the door. “Let’s go.”

“Where did you meet
these turds again?” I jerked my purse from the counter.

“I just know Nick.”

My
brows rose in question.

“The peeker. He
works in my building. Different firm though.”

“So they’re all
friends?”

She held the door,
making sure of my exit. “Apparently.”

“Wonder what it’s
like in a room with the three of them all talking nonsense and not listening to
one thing the other says,” I said, breezing past her.

Kara snorted.
“You’ve been away from men too long.”

“Well, this isn’t
helping.”

“Keep an open mind.
First impressions aren’t always correct,” she said from behind me as we strode
down the hall.

“I’m not expecting
Prince Charming, but those three are wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am all the way. Is a
little interest, a little romance, a first date with a toe-curling kiss too
much to ask for?” I inquired over my shoulder.

“Maybe you need a
wham-bam to get back into business. Like, get it over then move on to the
romance and the toe-curling kisses.”

“Harrumph,” escaped
me before we came out of the hallway and into the main bar.

Three steps into the
room, I stopped dead in my tracks. I became a deer in headlights when I noticed
a person sitting sideways at the bar. Dark brown hair. Square jaw. Dark, winged
brows. Sensual lips with a rocks glass pressed to them. I gaped as he tipped
the glass higher and amber liquid touched his lips.

Kara ran into my
shoulder. “What the hell?” she asked, rubbing her jaw and stepping next to me.
“Don’t pull this again. It’s only one more drink.”

“It’s him,” I
somehow said, though still in shock. “My lunch guy.”

“Him? What are you
talking—” She followed my frozen gawk. “Holy shit, Naomi!
He’s
the guy you watch at lunch? That’s not a bike—that’s a luxury
car! Like an Aston Martin!” Kara had a thing for luxury cars. And shoes. And
clothes. And purses.

I nodded as the
woman next to him gave him a sultry stare. Jealousy flared within in me.
Hopefully the daydream kind, but yeah, he was an Aston Martin compared to the
three ten-speeds waiting in the other room.

Kara smacked her
forehead. “I should have known. Why didn’t my stupid ass put two and two
together when you described him? You know who he is, right?”

Locked on him, my
eyes turned huge. “What? No.”

“He’s—”

“Aggggg, not
listening to Kara.” I covered my ears. “Don’t tell me.”

Sure, I stalked him
at lunch, but I didn’t want the possibility of becoming a full-time stalker.
More than that, I didn’t want my lustful lunchtime fantasies ruined by reality.
I was more than aware of it being a fantasy. I liked it as a fantasy.

Kara’s mouth stopped
moving and I uncovered my ears.

“He’s one of the two
CEOs who run the advertising firm
your
company works for. His name is Reese Jordon. His firm requests temps from us
all the time. He’s like
the
new and
upcoming ad executive. Though his company is up and coming, he comes from old,
old money. He’s like
the
most wanted
bachelor in the city. He dates models, actresses, socialites, and even a
ballerina—”

“Enough,” I snapped.

Smiling
naughtily, she wound her arm around
mine. “Let’s go say hello.”

I tried to dig my
feet into the wood floor. Too bad I was wearing a pair of Kara’s flats. She
easily dragged me.

“No! Are you nuts?
Stop it,” I said as she yanked me and I slid with her toward the bar. “Kara!” I
hissed.

Luckily, with his
attention on the woman across from him, he didn’t notice us arguing ten feet
from him. Yet he seemed slightly bored, with his elbow on the back of the chair
and two fingers at his temple. At least that was how
I
interpreted his body language.

“Then should we go
back to our table?” Kara innocently asked.

My eyes flashed
annoyance at her, but I let her drag me across the bar while he leaned forward,
dark hair brushing over his forehead. He said something near the woman’s ear,
and I imagined his voice sounding deep and seductive.

The three jackasses
had ordered another round of drinks while we were gone. I sipped my beer and
tried not to keep glancing toward the bar. From this angle, I couldn’t see much
except their elbows and his carved profile now and then. Being confronted with
my obsession on a night out I didn’t want to be on just made me more
uncomfortable. My gaze kept roaming toward the bar. Annoyed with my roommate, I
pretty much ignored her and the three men at our table.

Reese Jordon
. I wanted to say the name aloud, feel
how it rolled off my tongue, how it sounded in my mouth. Ridiculous. Now I’d
become more obsessed. On the other hand, now my fantasies would have a name.

Finally, after
giving me several dirty looks from across the table, Kara declined the offer of
another round. I about jumped off my stool. My goodbye was quick. I rushed
toward the exit, with Kara following and hissing about how rude I was. After
slipping on our coats, we stepped out into the cold night. Two strides out into
the winter air, we both stopped.
 

The light from the
bar casting them in half shadows, Mr. Jordon and his leggy date waited at the
curb. With him in a long wool coat and her in a short fur one, they appeared
rich and beautiful. People from another world. She leaned toward him, pushing
her hands into his open coat. Gazing up at him, she fluttered her lashes. His
mouth tightened into a flat smile. She wiggled closer. His brows lowered, but
his hand slid from her waist and cupped her ass. He lifted her up and pressed
her against him, bending until his mouth was mere inches from hers. And
although they weren’t kissing, the leggy woman let out a pant. Both the pant
and the position were quite sexual.

My mouth dropped
open, like to the point of a cavern.

Kara let out a loud
laugh.

They both started
turning toward the cackling sound, but I dragged Kara away, refusing to look at
them.