Beautifully Damaged (Beautifully Damaged series) by L.A. Fiore (1)

It really wasn’t my scene: the dark, smoke-filled nightclub; the heavy bass beat; the bodies, shoulder to shoulder; and the voices, the eye-bulging, brain-numbing voices that dissolved into incoherent shouting. The sleek, black bar top spanned the whole side of the place. It was littered with glasses and some of the most beautiful people that I’d ever seen in real life. Yes, I was definitely way outside of my comfort zone.

Lena was meeting the boy she liked here and wanted me to tag along just in case. Though I was shy, I also valued my friendship with her, and being in a place like this was proof of just how much this friendship meant to me.

We pushed our way through the crowd as my toes got stomped, my hair got pulled, and I couldn’t help but think that I could have been at home, sipping a glass of wine and reading Jane Eyre. We somehow managed to reach the bar when Lena grabbed my hand.

“Look, Em, there he is.”

I followed Lena’s gaze to the blond standing near the bar. He was tall, maybe six feet, and his hair was perfectly cut. Even in his khakis and oxford shirt, you could tell his body was built like a runner’s with long, lean muscles. When his face turned in our direction, I saw that his eyes were hazel-green in a face that was classically handsome.

“What do you think?”

I looked up at Lena and realized that she had been studying me while I studied him.

“He’s very handsome. What’s his name?”

“Todd.”

Todd started toward us. His eyes sparkled in greeting as a smile curved his lips.

“Hello, Lena. I’m so glad you made it.” He stepped into Lena and pressed a kiss on her lips and I couldn’t help the pang of envy I felt at their greeting, but immediately my mind switched gears to Todd as Lena made the introductions.

“Todd, this is my best friend, Ember.”

We’d been best friends since we were in middle school, and our friendship endured high school and separate colleges. He reached for my hand to shake it. Handshakes were big with my dad, yet Todd’s was one of those half-girlie shakes. His hands were too smooth and soft—softer than mine. For my dad this would have been a serious red flag, but I pulled my thoughts from that when Todd smiled at me.

“Nice to meet you, Ember.”

“You too, Todd.”

A favorite song of Lena’s came on. “Let’s dance.” She grabbed Todd’s hand. “Are you coming, Em?”

“No, you go.”

“Okay.” And just like that they disappeared into the crowd. A stool at the bar emptied, so I sat down and flagged the bartender. He looked to be in his thirties and his eyes were friendly. He stopped just in front of me and set down a napkin.

“What can I get you?”

“Cabernet, please.”

“Sure thing.”

I watched him pour the ruby-red wine into a glass, then I pulled out a twenty and moved it across the bar to him just as he placed my glass in front of me.

“Keep the change,” I said.

“Thanks.” He threw me a grin as he moved down the bar and I took a sip of my wine.

I turned in my stool and looked out at the sea of people. This place wasn’t like the clubs we used to hang out in during our college years—it was way swankier, but it was still a place to see and be seen. And though I tried to mingle like Lena so often encouraged me to do, it was hard for me to strike up a conversation, since the mere thought of talking to a stranger made my stomach fill with butterflies and my palms go sweaty. No wonder my dating life was so anemic. Although I had the ability to attract a man, keeping him interested when I fumbled over my shyness—not so much.

I took another sip of my wine, caught a flash of Lena’s auburn hair before she was pulled deeper into the crowd, and then a stir across the dance floor pulled my attention. There were at least six ladies dressed in the shortest, most revealing dresses that I’d ever seen. Every one of them was gorgeous, but it was the man walking in their midst that had my complete attention. He was dressed in faded jeans, a black tank, and boots. He had to be at least six four. His short, spiky black hair framed a face of sheer beauty, but it was the tattoo sleeve that covered his left arm that captivated me. The design was indiscernible from my distance and, never really having a feeling about tattoos one way or the other, I found it to be both beautiful and sexy as hell. Maybe I was moved in this case because of the arm; it was a spectacular arm with a wide shoulder, thickly muscled bicep, and a powerful forearm.

He moved through the crowd, which parted for him to pass—like Moses and the Red Sea—and appeared just to my right with his bevy of babes giggling and tossing their hair. I turned from the scene, since the man clearly wasn’t wanting for female attention. The women at the bar—dates be damned—strained their necks for a glimpse of him. I looked down at my jeans and black, sleeveless blouse as a grin curved my lips—nothing sexy about that. My hair, my greatest feature, was long and thick, but instead of blond or red as most men preferred, it was brown, the same color as my eyes. I was definitely not in the same league as the beautiful people just down the bar.

A sudden shove at my back almost made me spill my wine; when I turned to face my assailant, I knew immediately that he was drunk out of his mind.

“Hey, babe. Want to dance?”

Dance? This guy was barely standing up, swaying like a high-rise in a strong wind, so it was rather ambitious of him to even consider walking to the dance floor, let alone actually dancing. I didn’t want to offend him, but I sure as hell didn’t want to dance with him either, so I smiled and replied firmly, “No, thanks.”

He grabbed me, and considering his drunken stupor, I was surprised at the accuracy of his movement.

“Come on, babe.” His hands moved down my arms to my hips; I pushed at him, but he was strong and his hold remained steadfast. My annoyance turned into fear.

“Let me go.” My voice wasn’t quite steady as I tried in vain to pull away from him.

“Let her go.” I turned my head toward the bartender, who was getting ready to jump over the bar, but he stopped when a shadow fell over us. It was tattoo-man looming over me and my would-be assailant. The drunk looked over his shoulder, saw who was standing behind him, and immediately dropped his hands before taking a few steps backwards. “I meant no harm, man.”

I pulled my eyes from the avenging angel before me and looked into the terror-filled gaze of my unwanted suitor as my fear was rapidly replaced with anger.

“No harm? I said no!”

His eyes flickered to me and I saw the heat flash in them. I could see that he wasn’t repentant at all and that just pissed me off. Before I knew my intention, I balled my hand into a fist and connected a solid hit to his jaw, leaning into it with my body just like I had been taught. At the sight of his head snapping back, my jaw dropped because I had just punched someone in the face. What the hell possessed me to do that?

“Bitch!” he howled.

He planted his legs, readying himself to go after me, but faster than my mind could process it, something flashed before me, and my attacker’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as his body dropped to the floor. I looked over at tattoo-man, who was steadily watching me and, though I knew the punch had come from him, you’d never know by the way he was casually standing there.

“Are you okay?”

“I think so, but thanks for…” I gestured to the man currently lying unconscious on the floor as I held tattoo-man’s stare, “that.”

“No means no, right?”

I smiled before I replied, “Yes.”

His finger ran down my arm before he reached for my hand and when he lifted it to his lips, his eyes stayed on mine.

“Trace Montgomery.”

“Ember Walsh.” My hand burned from the contact.

He said, “It’s nice to meet you, Ember.”

Before I could even think of a reply he released my hand and disappeared into the mass of bodies. I didn’t miss the nasty stares that his fan club threw at me, but I couldn’t focus on them, since I was too busy trying to remember how to breathe.

My attacker was still out cold on the floor as two bouncers came to drag him away. I just watched them, unsure if the previous few minutes had actually happened and, had it not been for my throbbing hand, I would have been more inclined to believe that I had hallucinated the entire scene. A hand touched my arm and I turned and looked up into concerned gray eyes. They were the bartender’s, and he gently led me back to my seat as he hunched down to look me over.

“Are you okay?”

“I think so.” I looked back at the now vacant floor and asked, “Did that all just happen?”

His chuckle immediately pulled my attention back to him.

“Yes.”

He reached across the bar for a full glass, then pressed it into my hand.

“Drink this. It’s water.”

“Thank you. I’m Ember.”

“Luke.”

I took a sip and realized that I was really very thirsty, so I drank the whole thing in one long swallow before Luke took the glass from me and placed it on the bar.

“Can I offer you some unsolicited bartender advice?”

“Sure.”

“Trace Montgomery—I’d stay clear of him.”

My inked rescuer—stay clear of him? I doubted the man would even recognize me if he saw me again. “I don’t understand.”

“He has a way with women. I see him night after night and they just flock to him. Thing is—he doesn’t do relationships; he’s a love-them-and-leave-them kind of guy. Any night of the week he’ll be here with someone different. It’s just who he is.”

I expected as much, what with the flock of hens all poking around him, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t disappoint me. It didn’t matter, since I never expected to see him again after that night anyway.

“Thanks for the advice.”

He studied me for a minute and seemed to like what he saw as he smiled and stood up.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Another glass of water would be nice.”

“You got it.”

An hour later I was ready to leave. Having not seen Lena since we first arrived, I tried texting her, but I got no answer. I said my good-byes to Luke and left my spot to search for Lena and Todd in the crowd, but the place was packed, which made my search pointless. I eventually made my way to the back near the restrooms and tried texting her again. While I stood there waiting for her reply, I noticed that I wasn’t alone. Though it was a fairly dark corner, I had no desire to stick around to witness the lovers’ tryst.

I had just started to move away when one shadow’s head moved into the light and I saw that it was Trace. His back was to the dance floor and pressed between him and the wall was a woman. She was moving, pushing her hips back and forth, and it was only then that I noticed the hand of his inked arm was lost between their bodies. I couldn’t pull my eyes from them because it was the most erotic thing that I’d ever seen, but sanity eventually returned and I started away from them. I didn’t get far—when I took one last glance at Trace, I found a pair of steely-blue eyes looking right at me. My feet just stopped as I stared back. He didn’t stop his ministrations and, based on the sounds that his friend was making, she was getting close, but his eyes never left mine.

I couldn’t help but imagine that he was bringing me to climax and the thought made my body clench hard with desire. It was the tingling of my body, the warming of my blood, and the sharp pang of want that pulled me from my lust-induced haze. With the return of reality came shame, and I turned and fled at the exact moment Trace’s friend found her release.

In the morning I woke and just lay there thinking about the previous night. I really didn’t get the club scene, but I was obviously in the minority considering how crowded Sapphire had been. I thought about the drunk guy and how, if I had said yes to his charming invitation, he’d have learned a valuable lesson this morning regarding the negative correlation between drinking and perspective since he’d obviously been wearing beer goggles last night if he was interested in me. And then, of course, there was my sexy hero. Being pawed by a drunken idiot had been worth it to get an opportunity to meet that man. I thought that I’d probably never see him again, but damn, he really was something else. I tended to avoid the opposite sex after my one and only sexual relationship had gone so horribly wrong, but Trace Montgomery could be my cure for that.

I didn’t like thinking about my ex, the Creep. I refused to acknowledge him by name because he had made it his job to tell me all the areas in our relationship where I was lacking. He claimed that I didn’t take initiative, wasn’t bold or responsive enough, which was why he was unable to seal the deal more times than not. I know now it wasn’t me who was lacking, but there was still a part of me that believed him.

I climbed from bed and made my way down the hall to the kitchen. Lena was sitting at the table having breakfast.

“Hi, Lena. Morning.”

“Morning.”

I reached into the cabinet for my granola bars, my standard breakfast, when Lena offered, “I ate the last one.”

“Oh, okay. Did you have fun last night?”

Lena leaned back in her chair as a smile curved her lips. “I did.” And then her focus zeroed in on me.

“What did you think of Todd?”

I really hadn’t had an opinion on Todd considering that as soon as the introductions were made, I didn’t see him again for the rest of the night. In fact, I ended up coming home alone. True, I was walking quickly for the door after “the incident,” but still, I’d come with Lena. She could have at least told me that she was leaving. It was rude of her not to.

“He’s very handsome and he seems quite taken with you, but what happened to you last night?”

“Todd wanted to leave.”

I was on my way to the refrigerator for my coffee beans when she said that. It wasn’t just what she said, but how she said it. Todd wanted to leave and the fact that she had come with me meant nothing?

“You could have told me you were leaving.”

When her eyes found mine, she actually looked a bit annoyed before she said, “Oh, right. Sorry. I honestly forgot you were with us. You can’t blame me, Em, since you act like a wallflower whenever we go out.”

I just stood there looking at her as she blamed me for why she and her boyfriend had left me. I couldn’t lie, that annoyed me, but she was excited about her date so I let it pass.

“I met the most incredible guy last night. Did you see him: tall, black spiky hair, tattoo down one arm?”

A strange look passed over her face. “No, Todd and I were busy.” She grinned. “Did you get his name?”

“Trace Montgomery.”

“So, did you hook up with him?”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Right, you’re still tender from the Creep. You should dip your feet back into the pool.” She wiggled her eyebrows at me before she stood. “You’re older now and less closed off, so whatever was lacking before probably no longer is.”

She stood and started down the hall to her room and I just watched her as what she didn’t say screamed in my head: whatever I was lacking.

That night I had to work at Clover, a restaurant where I waitressed. I stood at the pass in the kitchen waiting for Chef to add the mango confit to the scallops as I marveled—and not for the first time—at how anyone could afford an eight-hundred-dollar dinner. It boggled my mind, but then, as I was raised the daughter of a Philly dockworker, so did most things in Manhattan.

Mom died when I was three and, having been so young, I didn’t remember her, but Dad was really good about keeping her alive in our thoughts. Even my name was a reminder of her, modified from her middle name, Emmeline. I was their Ember, the lingering and enduring proof of their remarkable love. And she was the love of his life. When she was taken so suddenly by a hit-and-run, he vowed he’d never remarry.

It was a bit awkward—especially during my adolescent years—learning about my period and the birds and the bees from my dad and his dockworker friends, but they also taught me how to cook the basics, throw a punch, change a tire, overhaul an engine, and play a mean game of poker. I also developed a love of movies from watching them with my dad. He shared all of my mom’s favorites with me and I felt closer to her when I watched them. It wasn’t really a surprise that her favorites became mine too. Lena didn’t always understand my dated movie references, but equating my life with movies that had made an impact on my mom’s life was my way of keeping her with me. After graduating from the University of Delaware, I made the hard decision to pick up and move states to New York City, because I wanted to be a writer and the never-ending font of material that the city provided was just too tempting. I spoke to my dad nearly every day and we saw each other on every holiday, so it hadn’t been too bad.

Chef pulled me from my thoughts. “Ember…before it gets cold.”

“Sorry, Chef.”

I walked out into the elegantly appointed dining room with dark walnut paneling, crystal chandeliers, stone fireplaces, and hardwood floors. The starched, white linens provided the backdrop for exquisite flower arrangements, sterling-silver flatware, Royal Crown Derby dishes, and Waterford Crystal stemware. Having come from Fishtown, I hadn’t known what any of these things were until I started working here and, despite the beauty of the place settings, I still favored my mismatched earthenware dishes, stainless-steel utensils, and vintage McDonald’s Star Wars drinking glasses.

Clover was located on the Upper East Side, near Central Park, and it felt like a different world when I came here from the fourth-floor walk-up that Lena and I shared in the Garment District. For one thing, there were trees and green grass, and seeing that in the middle of a city made it feel more welcoming and safe.

I liked working here, since I was practically invisible; the less I spoke, the happier my customers were, so when it came to tips, I raked it in.

I stood in the back checking on my tables and couldn’t help but wonder what the owner was like. This wasn’t his only restaurant in town and not even his most exclusive, so how much money must he make a night when not a table was empty?

I moved to the bar where my friend Kyle Donahue was working as bartender. We discovered we’d each had a relationship from hell and so we bonded, lots of late nights closing up the restaurant and sharing relationship horror stories about the Creep and the Soul Sucker. Kyle became the brother I always wanted and I trusted his opinion completely.

He greeted me with a smile. “So how was last night with meeting the Second Coming?”

Kyle was referring to Lena’s new boyfriend, a pretty accurate nickname considering how Lena talked him up, but Kyle was calling him that because he didn’t like Lena. It was one point in which we were at odds. Kyle thought she was vain, arrogant, and completely out for herself. Yes, she had a selfish streak but I didn’t think she was as bad as he made her sound.

“He seemed very nice.”

My eyes caught him as he faked a shiver. “Nice. What a glowing review.”

“I really can’t say more—I was with Todd for all of a minute. Lena’s happy, so I guess that’s all that matters.”

“Naturally,” he muttered with a bit of rancor.

“Not now, Kyle.”

He rested his arms on the bar and leaned forward. “One day you’ll see what I do.”

I was prevented from rolling my eyes at him by his question, “So did you meet anyone?”

Just thinking about Trace made my heart rate speed up. “I did. It was right after I punched a guy in the face.”

Kyle was horrified. “You what?”

“Yep, he wouldn’t take no for an answer. I still can’t believe I resorted to violence, but in my defense he sort of reminded me of the Creep. All those daydreams of me nailing that bastard in the face came flooding back and before I knew it, I was curling my fingers and swinging.”

“I don’t know if I should slap you on the back or give you a stern talking to. He could have hit back.”

“Yes, well that’s when my savior stepped in.”

Something dark passed over Kyle’s face in reaction to the thought of someone harming me. He replied fiercely, “I like him already.”

“He was pretty amazing.”

“And?”

“There is no and. I won’t be seeing him again. We don’t move in the same social circles. Besides, he is so out of my league.”

“Did you at least get his name?”

“Trace Montgomery.”

“Well, that’s a start.”

“Pipe dream, Kyle.”

“All good dreams are, which makes it that much cooler when you achieve them,” he said confidently.

“Wise words, Yoda.”

He grinned before he straightened. “Get back to work, slugger.”

“Yes, sir,” I said with a salute and started away from him.

But he called after me, “We aren’t finished with this conversation.”

I waved my hand over my head in acknowledgment, walked to my next customers, and almost tripped over my own two feet when I saw that they were Todd and Lena.

“Hi, Em. Can you believe it?” she whispered as she looked adoringly across the table at Todd.

“What a pleasant surprise. Can I get you something to drink while you look over your menus?”

Todd turned those hazel-green eyes on me and requested a bottle of Bordeaux. His French sounded perfect but then how the hell would I know the difference? On the surface he seemed quite charming, if not a bit arrogant trying to impress us with his French skills; even so, an uncomfortable feeling of foreboding worked its way down my spine. Throughout their meal I watched Todd and Lena and wondered what exactly he did for a living that he could afford to bring a girl, who he’d only just started dating, to a restaurant that cost more money for one meal than I made in a week. After dinner they stood to leave and Lena leaned over and whispered, “Don’t wait up for me, Em.”

She smiled as Todd reached for her hand and pulled her from the restaurant. I grabbed the check and noted that Todd had given me exactly 20 percent tip. Why that rubbed me the wrong way, I couldn’t say.

When I returned home after work, I was surprised to find Lena there. Based on how she and Todd had been acting at dinner, I wasn’t expecting her. I dropped my keys on the counter as I walked into the living room.

“Lena, what’s wrong?”

The surprise in her expression mirrored my own when she looked up at me. I had the sense she was so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t heard me entering the apartment. I settled on the edge of the sofa.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, Todd had to cut our date short. He had some business thing to attend to.”

A business thing at ten in the evening—not likely. “What does Todd do?”

I noticed that her shoulders tensed and she looked defensive when she offered, “He’s an investment banker.”

I wondered what was up with her reaction to my question, but I didn’t push it.

“Did you enjoy your dinner at Clover?”

“It was delicious.”

“That must have been a real treat for you.”

“It was. He was really excited about landing a big client, so it was a celebratory dinner.”

“Nice.”

“It was, which is why I’m a bit sad that the evening was cut short, but I understand; work is work.”

I didn’t understand what kind of investment banking business would pull a man from a date at ten in the evening, but I didn’t say as much.

“I’m beat. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Night, Em.”

In the morning I dressed and hurried downstairs, where Kyle was waiting. We were heading into Central Park for a jazz festival. It was a beautiful day and as soon as I stepped outside, Kyle smiled big and pretty.

“Are you ready for a day of jazz, Ember?”

“I am.”

We started down the street and I could see how excited Kyle was. He was a musician who adored jazz, so for him to have an entire day where he could sit under a tree and listen to it, yes, he was going to be in heaven. I enjoyed the music but my motivation for joining him was more for his benefit. He liked the company, liked to share the music, and it was something small I could do but it meant so much to him. We stopped off for some coffee, then made our way into the park. We found a nice patch of grass and sat down. Kyle actually dropped down onto his back, closed his eyes, and lost himself in the music.

I leaned back against a tree, drank my coffee, and did some people watching. Sometimes the writer in me crafted stories about the people I saw, but today I just observed. There was one couple, hand in hand, giving each other looks of adoration. It was sweet, but I had the sense they had yet to have their first argument.

Another couple walked by with a screaming toddler. There wasn’t adoration in their expressions, but complete exhaustion. And then the elderly couple passing by made me sigh. They had to be in their eighties and yet they were holding hands. You could see how comfortable they were with each other after having shared a lifetime together. That was what I wanted: someone who knew me better than I knew myself, someone who knew all the worst parts of me, yet still loved me.

While watching the elderly couple, I noticed a tall man farther down the path, who was walking toward the music. As he approached I saw the spiky black hair and the tattoo on his arm—Trace Montgomery. I just stared, since I couldn’t believe I was seeing him again. What were the odds? I wondered if I had the power to conjure him at will, since, if I was being honest, he’d been in the back of my mind since we met. He stopped by a tree, leaned up against it, and listened to the music. I had the strongest urge to go over and talk to him. Considering I usually couldn’t get past my nerves to engage a man in conversation, the fact that I wanted to engage him was odd.

I watched as women approached him, but what was interesting was the look on his face as they did. He looked annoyed, which seemed contrary to his reputation as a player of the first order. He didn’t actually engage any of them in conversation and it seemed that when asked something, he replied with as few words as possible. You could tell by the looks some of the ladies were giving him that they knew him intimately, and yet there was no familiarity in his expression, just irritation. You’d think he’d be more flirtatious, but with the expression he was sporting, I was surprised women were brave enough to talk to him, let alone sleep with him.

Since I was far enough away from him, I let myself really study his face. He had nice cheekbones, a strong jaw, a poet’s mouth with full lips that were definitely kiss-worthy, and a nose that’d been broken a time or two, which kept him from looking too perfect. His face was gorgeous but hard and there was a coldness in those beautiful eyes. I had become so lost in that face that I didn’t realize he was looking in my direction, and then to my utter horror I realized he was looking right at me. There was a slight grin on that mouth and, damn, but that grin was sexy as hell. I wanted to stare back, but I quickly turned my head away from him. My heart pounded like a frightened rabbit’s, and I could sense that those eyes were still watching me. I smacked Kyle harder than I meant to.

He bolted upright. “What the hell, Ember!”

“That’s him,” I said bluntly.

“That’s who?”

“Trace Montgomery.”

Kyle turned his head in Trace’s direction, which made me hiss, “Don’t look!”

A grin pulled at the one side of his mouth. “Why not?”

“Because then he’ll know we’re talking about him.”

He leaned closer and now he was smiling. “We are talking about him.”

“Well, yeah, but he doesn’t need to know that.”

“I’ll be discreet.” Before I could say another word he casually turned his head in Trace’s direction. I had to give it to him, he was very discreet.

“Not what I pictured,” he said honestly.

“Better or worse?”

“Neither, just different.” His voice had lost the teasing quality it had had a second ago. “He isn’t out of your league, Ember, he’s playing an entirely different game. Please make sure you know the rules before you start to play.”

There was no real-life scenario where Trace Montgomery and I would ever interact. The notion wasn’t even in the realm of possibility.

“I appreciate your concern, but him and me? Never going to happen, so don’t worry about it.” My look must have conveyed my thoughts.

“Again I say, one day you’ll see what I do,” he touched my chin with his thumb before he lowered himself back on the grass and shut his eyes. I smiled at him before I leaned back against the tree, closed my eyes, and got lost in my thoughts as well.

A half an hour later I worked up the nerve to look in Trace’s direction. The expression about opportunity knocking was rattling around in my head, which was why I decided that if he was still there I was going to walk over to him and thank him for coming to my aid the other night. But when I looked over, he was gone.

For the rest of the day my mind happily lingered on Trace. I had the feeling that he remembered who I was and that knowledge had filled my belly with butterflies. It was foolish for me to think about him, but I couldn’t seem to help it. There was something about him that intrigued me. Thoughts of him had taken up residence in my head and I just couldn’t seem to expel them—not that I really wanted to. What was the harm in admiring him from afar?

A few days later, Clover was sponsoring a 5K race in Central Park. All the proceeds from the day, including the profits from the restaurant sales, were going to various charities supporting underprivileged children. When I arrived, I was happy to see the turnout for the event. I registered, got my number, and then moved to the side to warm up.

I wasn’t there too long when I felt the oddest tickle down my spine and knew that Trace was near, even before my eyes landed on him. I actually felt the air still in my lungs. He was dressed in black sweats and a white tee that was snug across the muscles of his chest and arms. And how so like a man to be able to make sweats look sexy as hell. He was alone, but as he moved through the crowds I noticed the people, mostly women, started to gravitate toward him like magnets to steel.

I turned my eyes from Trace to the women near him and had to resist the urge to scratch my head. Who fixes their hair and applies makeup before going for a run? Their running clothes were not only designer, but they looked as if they’d never been worn. I felt like a bit of a slob next to them, considering my hair was pulled up into a messy knot, my sweatpants had seen better days, and my faded gray T-shirt had shrunk a bit over the years so that the words MAY THE FORCE BE WITH YOU were stretched across my breasts.

It had been only a few days since I saw him at the jazz festival. I was surprised and a touch suspicious at seeing him again in a city as large as this one. I’m pretty sure it was the shock that made me appear almost bold as I blatantly stared at him. As I watched I noticed again how he seemed detached from his surroundings, including the women flocking around him. I thought about going over to say hi, but the mere thought of doing so, in front of his fan club, made my stomach twist up in knots.

He must have sensed someone watching him as he turned those steel-blue eyes right on me. To my utter joy he started toward me. I almost swooned and my knees actually started knocking. He really was the most gorgeous man alive and he had the most excellent swagger. His stride was long and yet he moved with a deliberateness that made my mouth water. When he stopped right in front of me, I got lightheaded and then realized it was because I was holding my breath. I released it with a smile just as he spoke.

“Hi.”

I had trouble forming words, since my brain seemed to have seized up from shock, but I did manage a simple, “Hi.”

He studied me with an intensity that warmed my blood. Unlike the aloofness I had observed both at the bar and the jazz festival the other day, there was a heat in his gaze that made my heart rate speed up. Somehow I managed to say, “I don’t know if you remember me from Sapphire—”

I didn’t get to finish my thought when he said, “Ember Walsh, I remember.”

He remembered my name. I wanted to do a little victory dance. Looking at that face, I couldn’t help smiling; he really was altogether yummy.

“Thanks for helping me the other night.”

“I think you were doing pretty well on your own, but I was happy to help.”

His voice was so deep and hypnotic. I could listen to him all day. I pulled myself from those thoughts before I started to drool or whimper or both.

“Maybe, but I really appreciated you stepping up, so thank you, Trace.”

I noticed a flash in his eyes and I had the sense that he was surprised I remembered his name. The man was unforgettable; surely he knew that.

“You’re welcome.” We just stood there looking at each other and then he asked, “Do you mind if I join you?”

I was surprised and ridiculously happy about his request. “Please.”

He started to warm up, the muscles of his torso bunching and cording under his tee. I noticed the slight coloring along his jaw. Clearly, the man had been in a fight since the last time I saw him, but considering he knocked my would-be attacker on his ass with very little trouble, I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that he was a professional fighter.

I watched as he continued to warm up with his face in profile. His tattoo was on the arm opposite from me so I still couldn’t make out what it depicted, but I did see lots of flames. I was pulled from my silent study of him when the announcer called us to the starting line. Trace’s eyes turned to me.

“Shall we?” When the gun sounded, I expected Trace to take off, considering his legs were so long. He surprised me, though, and paced himself to run at my side. At one point when I looked, he was looking back. I smiled before I turned my head, but knew my face flushed as red as an apple. I knew he saw it too, if the wicked grin he threw me was any indication. I didn’t know what it was about this guy, but I felt like a teenager with a crush when I was in his presence. About halfway through, Trace moved a bit closer to me.

“I’ll see you at the finish.”

My eyes found his before I replied, “Okay.”

He held my gaze for a moment and then he took off. The man was in prime physical shape as he moved himself through the masses. In only a short time I couldn’t see him anymore. I didn’t really expect to see him at the finish. I assumed his parting words were truly that. I was disappointed because I could have spent the entire day with the man and it still wouldn’t have been enough. I found that I was very interested in Trace Montgomery and that kind of interest in a man had never happened to me before. Of course, leave it to me to develop a crush on a man who was so out of my stratosphere.

I finished the race, beating my personal best time, and started to warm down. The sky was an amazing blue and the clouds were like cotton balls so I took a moment to lay down on the grass and stare up. I remembered looking for shapes in the clouds with my dad when I was a kid. I always loved looking up at the sky because I couldn’t help but wonder what was beyond it. I think it was one of the reasons why I loved Star Wars so much. Aside from it being my parents’ favorite movie, which was enough to make it mine too, I liked that we got a glimpse into what could be out there in that vast unknown space.

A shadow fell over me and when I looked up, there was Trace. His smile was a nice sight, but obviously he was a figment of my imagination, so even as I smiled back, I closed my eyes and willed myself awake. His deep voice made my eyes snap open.

“Are you okay?”

“You’re really standing there.”

His smile was more a grin when he replied, “As you see.”

“That’s just it, I don’t trust my eyes,” I muttered.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

There was a devilish gleam in his eyes as he offered me his hand and when I took it, I felt heat burn up my arm as he helped me to my feet. One look at his face and I knew he felt it too.

He seemed to recover before me when he offered rather softly, “It was nice seeing you again.”

“You too.”

He started away from me and I heard myself calling after him, “Trace?”

He stopped and looked back at me.

“I run here every morning at nine starting at the Gapstow Bridge and after my runs I go to the Starbucks on Fifth Avenue near the park. If you’re ever in the mood for a run, I’d welcome the company.”

His smile was sheer perfection before he replied, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

And then he was gone, disappearing into the crowd as I stood there staring after him.

I arrived at home a short time later, fantasizing about a nice hot bath. As soon as I closed the door, I heard strange moaning, which should have clued me in, but I wasn’t really paying close enough attention, since my thoughts were preoccupied with the race and seeing and talking to Trace. It was only when I turned and looked into the living room that I blushed and quickly averted my eyes, because Lena and Todd were having sex on the sofa. I started to rush down the hall when I heard Lena’s cry of outrage directed at me.

“Ember, really!”

“Aren’t you supposed to put a sock on the door, Lena?”

“You weren’t supposed to be home until later.”

I couldn’t actually believe we were having an argument while Todd was still thrusting. Perhaps I had stepped into an alternate universe. Today was just full of surprises.

“Well, go! Are you going to stand there and watch?”

She was pricking my temper, so to be belligerent I walked around the sofa and just stared at her. The fact that I got to see more of Todd was an unpleasant side effect.

“You aren’t really giving me shit for walking into my own apartment, are you, Lena? If you and Todd want to get naked in the living room when you have a perfectly private bedroom, then you’re going to have to expect interruptions.”

I started down the hall and, though I couldn’t make out what Todd was saying, I knew that he was talking about me.

I took an extra-long bath; when I finally climbed out, I looked like a prune, but at least my temper had fizzled. I changed into some sweats, dried my hair, and headed out into the kitchen. Lena was there, sitting at the table eating my leftover Chinese food. It was something she did all the time, and usually I let it go, but her selfishness was beginning to grate.

“You’re eating my lunch, Lena.”

She looked up at me and I could see she was still angry, so I cocked my hip and held her gaze.

“Sex on the sofa with a man you barely know.”

She tried for haughty when she replied, “One thing led to another.”

“Well, next time lead it down the hall to your bedroom because walking in and seeing your boyfriend’s pasty-white ass is not high on my list of must-sees. Hell, it isn’t even on my list.”

“You’re just jealous,” she said as she stood, leaving her plate on the table and walking to her room.

I stood there watching her and realized that maybe Kyle did see something I didn’t, because my best friend was turning into a bitch.