Frayed (Connections #4)
Page 15“Hi there.” Ben’s voice exudes seduction.
“Hi,” I manage in a much more friendlike tone.
“Did you get my message?” His voice is low and sexy.
“Friends don’t talk to friends like that,” I blurt out.
“Like what?” He laughs, and the sound is almost like a caress that wraps around my bare legs and up my dress like a gust of wind.
“Sounding like sex.”
He laughs even louder. “No one has ever told me I sound like sex, but I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You’re doing it again.”
“Is this better?” This time his voice is deeper, richer, but it still sounds velvety smooth to me and full of promise—promises I’ve taken off the table.
“Yes,” I agree because I think that even if he sounded drunk, exhausted, or disoriented, I’d still feel the dampness spread between my legs from his voice alone.
“Good. Okay, then.” A soft chuckle escapes his throat. “Tomorrow night I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“I’ll meet you,” I insist.
“Red, that’s ridiculous.”
“Ben, I’ll meet you or I’ll pass.”
“Fine, I’ll let you know where.”
“Okay. I have to go before I’m late for work.”
“See ya, Red,” he says, and hangs up.
“Bye, Ben,” I breathe over the empty line.
I find a spot a little farther away from the office than I’d like and park. Grabbing the tray of coffees, I walk fast and pull open the showroom door. I look around in shock. It’s a complete mess. Walls are down, drop cloths are everywhere, and Tate is leaning against my desk with his arms crossed. His face is unreadable. Tall, dark hair, suave, and always put together, he’s a man of style and confidence, but he’s also very self-absorbed and, as Xander says, a bit of an ass**le.
I stop quickly to drop a coffee off to Josie. “Good morning.”
Her back is to Tate, so she mouths, “Thank you. Piss-ass mood,” while she rolls her eyes. I pass her desk and approach Tate with apprehension. I want to look at my watch, but it stopped a long time ago and pulling my phone out would be way too obvious.
I raise the tray. “Coffee.” I offer it to him with a smile.
“Intuition.”
“Or ass-kissing.”
I shrug and let that pass without commenting on it. “What’s going on in here?”
“Time for some renovations. The place needed a pick-me-up. I’m thinking of trading the Harrods look for something more Vera Wang.”
“So you’re trading the black-and-white toile for platinum modernism?”
“Exactly.” He grins and raises his cup. “I knew I hired you for a reason.”
I toss my purse in my desk drawer and take a seat.
He walks toward his office and then turns. “I’ll be out of town until Friday. We have a new client coming in on Thursday that I’d like you to take care of, so be on time.”
“Sure, who is it?”
“Romeo Fairchild, the governor’s son. His fiancée is a wreck and he wants us to handle the entire wedding.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem.”
“He wants the event to take place the day after Thanksgiving,” he says, and his grin is lascivious.
Yeah, he can be a bit of an ass**le.
I watch him slam his door and catch Josie’s glare. She averts her eyes to the break room and stands, heading that way. I nod and wait a few minutes before taking my coffee and joining her. The break room doubles as a meeting spot when the conference room is taken, so it’s decorated to the nines—bright orange focal wall, dark wooden table, white leather armchairs, and a large vase filled with artificial birds-of-paradise adorning the corner. I close the glass door behind me and take a seat, sipping my coffee while Josie stares at me.
“What?” I ask.
“There’s something different about you.” Her eyes flicker over me.
I roll my eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”
“Oh, that’s the pot calling the kettle black.”
I laugh. She’s right. I usually am up and down with Tate’s moods, but today I didn’t let him bother me and it paid off. “So, what spurred the décor change?”
“Don’t change the subject. Now spill it. Who were you talking to that got you all hot and bothered the other day?”
“I was not hot and bothered.”
I smile. “Well, there’s this guy I’ve known for a while. The thing is, we have a sordid history and I didn’t think getting involved with him was a good idea.”
“Did you f**k him?”
“Josie!”
She twirls a piece of blue hair around her finger. “Well, did you?”
I don’t answer and let my silence speak for itself.
“Hey, if he’s good in bed and gives you that glow, I say screw the rest.”
I laugh. She makes it sound so easy—if only she knew.
• • •
Acabár isn’t that far from my apartment. In fact, it’s even on Sunset, so I decide to walk. The two days since I’ve seen him have felt more like two weeks and I can’t wait to see him again. The sign is in my sights when I see him walking my way and smile broadly. White button-down shirt, slightly faded jeans, black boots, and that smile that makes the apex of my legs pulse. His mop of shaggy blond hair is disheveled and my guess is he rode his motorcycle—as if he’s not hot enough, visions of him riding his bike only send my body into overdrive.
“Hi,” I say, trying to keep my voice even.
His eyes sweep me from my open-toed pumps, up my tight leather pants, right through my sheer silver top, to my straight hair with a few carefully placed waves. “Hi there,” he says, and a slight growl follows his greeting.
I labored a long time on what to wear—casual, businesslike, or dressy, but in the end decided on sexy.
“You didn’t have to meet me outside,” I say.
Before I can move back, lips land on my cheek. My mouth falls open at the sudden scorching heat between us and I stare at him, unable to speak.
His eyes drop and he shoves his hands in his pockets, but his lips quirk up. “Friends wait for friends. Friends kiss each other on the cheek.”
He’s pushing it, but I secretly don’t mind it at all—not that I’d let him know that.
I push his shoulder back. “I don’t think friends let their tongue leave their mouth during a slight peck on the cheek.”
He shrugs. “So I have a few things to learn.”
I nod in the direction of the stretch of sidewalk leading us to the restaurant and smile. “Come on, let’s go.”
He tries to grab my hand and again the gesture sends butterflies bouncing off the walls of my stomach, but I pretend not to react and tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. “Did you use your charm to get reservations here? Because I’ve heard it takes months just to get an eleven o’clock reservation.” I glance over at him while waiting for a reply and notice that his profile is just as alluring as the full-on view.
His lips twist into a smile and his eyes shift to mine.
“You know, as much as I’d love to say my charm works wonders, I can’t lie. Jagger used his hobnobbing connections to get us a table.”
I flinch because there it is, looming over us. Smack in my face it hits—reality. Lies, half-truths, what he doesn’t know. What I’m afraid to tell him—not only because I have no idea how he’ll react but because reliving our past is just too painful. It’s the very reason this, him and me, can never work.
He bumps my shoulder. “Hey, sorry to disappoint you.”
I paint a fake smile on my face. “Actually I’m kind of secretly enjoying the fact that you don’t always get what you want.”
He reaches for the tall brass door and places his other hand on the small of my back. “That happens more than you’d think,” he whispers in my ear.
A shiver runs down my spine. The meaning of his words is clear—he wants me. I wish I could be honest and tell him that I want him too, but I know I can’t. We’re friends. I’ll take that until he can’t take it anymore. Something is better than nothing.
“Wow, this place is amazing.”
He agrees with me and says, “I know, it’s like being transported to another time and place.”
The grand space is very lavish with a bar in the center and a dining room and lounge flanking each side. Intricate tile-work, carved plaster columns, and a beautifully ornate hand-painted ceiling set the mood perfectly.
“I’ve never eaten at a Moroccan restaurant,” I say a little more breathy than I’d like with his hand still searing my skin.
“Should I have checked with you first before letting Jagger pick the place?”
I laugh, and my nerves settle as I realize he’s a little nervous too. “No, I’m sure I’ll love it.”
“There they are.” He points to a booth in a dimly lit corner with a bottle of wine on the table and flickering votive candles in the center. Jagger has his arm stretched across the back of the brown-leather-upholstered bench with his mouth hovering over Aerie’s ear. A huge smile is plastered on her face.
Jagger spots us and rises to his feet, waving us over. He’s dressed similar to Ben, in a gray button-down and black jeans. He’s my cousin and although it seems I’ve known him forever, we only just met less than a year ago. Jagger’s mother is my mother’s sister. She lives in Paris. She never married Jagger’s father and allowed his father to raise him in New York City. River actually met Jagger for the first time on his honeymoon in Paris and they hit it off so well Jagger decided to move to LA. Lucky for all of us and especially for Aerie. She captured his heart from their first meeting, and after a few bumps in the road they are a full-fledged couple. I’m surrounded by adorable couples lately.
Aerie stands as well and Ben ushers me into the booth, his hand still resting possessively on my back. Aerie leans over to hug me and Jagger kisses my cheek, nothing like the one Ben had placed there earlier. Ben’s hand casually drifts up my spine and back down, and visions of his lips doing the same pop into my mind. I try to push away the primal response his physical presence elicits from me. Ben removes his hand to shake hands with Jagger and says hello to Aerie. I notice there’s no kissing between them. I guess when two people work together, any such physical contact is awkward.
We all sit down as I try to wrap my mind around this—a double date? No, it’s simply friends sharing a meal together at a very expensive restaurant.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” I ramble, feeling nervous with Ben so close. I wasn’t this nervous when he took me to the diner for pie. But then again we had just screwed each other’s brains out. This is different. The sexual tension between us is overwhelming, but we said we’d be friends. He’d agreed. There would be no screwing afterward. Just a friendly good-bye. It’s what I said I wanted.
“You’re not late,” Jagger answers. “Aerie insisted we would be late, so she made me pick her up at work a little too early.”
“There’s always so much traffic coming into LA at rush hour,” she defends herself.
I giggle a little. She’s not a fan of LA and she convinced my cousin to move to Laguna. He doesn’t seem to mind the commute, though. I can see Jagger’s arm moving and I know he’s caressing his fingers up and down her leg. She’s wearing a cute suit. I saw it when she stood up. Short red skirt, black-and-red-checked jacket, and a black silk top with a slight V neck. Her jewelry, though, is absolutely fabulous. Small red sparkling hearts circle her neck with crystal leaves peeking out here and there. She has the most exquisite antique pieces—hand-me-downs from her grandmother.