THREE
PAST TENSE
If sitting on the couch eating cheese were a sport, right now I’d be the Olympic champion.
Our first day of rehearsals has left me drained. The thought of enduring another few months of controlling my reaction to Liam has led me to being pantsless in my favorite nightshirt as I inhale a wedge of Jarlsberg.
“Wine?” Josh calls from the kitchen.
“If you have to ask that question after the day we’ve just had, then we’re no longer friends.”
I look up to see him in the doorway holding a wineglass so big, it could be seen from space. I suspect it’s holding an entire bottle of wine.
“I was being polite, loser. I already knew the answer.” He has a six-pack of beer in his other hand. “When we’ve finished this lot, I vote we move on to the bourbon.” He passes me my wine, and then flops next to me as he uncaps a beer. He takes a long drink before letting out the world’s most resonant burp.
I groan in disgust. “You’re a class act. You know that?”
He holds up a fist. “Word.”
“Still pissed about your reaction to Angel?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, please. You talk a good game when you’re trying to get a woman into bed, but as soon as you meet someone you actually feel something for, you get all irritated. You did it last year with Lara, and you’re doing it now with Angel.”
He leans back and shoves his hand in the waistband of his pants. “Hold that thought while I go get some toilet paper, because what’s coming out of your mouth right now is total shit.”
“Okay, fine. Live in denial. But you’re still going to whack off to pictures of her, right?”
He shrugs. “Probably. Mike’s a total slut for leggy redheads.” He picks up the remote and starts flipping through channels.
“Remind me again why you named your penis Mike?”
“I didn’t. You did.”
I frown. “I did not. I don’t make a habit of naming penises. Especially not those belonging to my best friend.”
“Wrong. You once referred to my dick as ‘magic.’ Hence, Magic Mike.”
I laugh before taking a giant swig of wine. “God, you remember that? I was joking.”
“Sure you were.”
I smile as I put my feet up on his leg. He halfheartedly gives me a foot rub.
Josh and I have been living together for just over a year, and I never expected to enjoy living with a straight guy so much. After cohabitating with my brother for so long, I was relieved to get away from him. I mean, I love Ethan, but he was pretty high-maintenance. I suspect he’d be more bearable now that he’s sorted out his life and gotten back together with his one true love, but still . . .
Josh and I sit on the couch and drown our sorrows for almost an hour before I excuse myself and retreat to my bedroom. My head is all over the place right now, so I figure I should just call it a day and hope tomorrow is better.
After I crawl into bed and close my eyes, thoughts of Liam push back in.
As much as I’d like to think everything that happened is now water under the bridge, it’s clear from our little confrontation in my office that there are issues that still need to be sorted out between us.
Feeling nostalgic, I grab my phone and find the picture of us from the first night we met. Liam’s hand is on my face, and he’s kissing me so deeply, just looking at it gives me tingles. That was the first time I ever laid eyes on him. The first time I ever kissed him. The first time my inner voice ever warned me to stay away from him.
There’s a light knock on the door, then Josh says, “Are you decent? Looking at porn? Waxing anything interesting?”
I smile. “None of the above, perv. Come in.”
When he opens the door, he gives my room the once-over. “Dammit. Just once I’d like for some underwear to be lying around. Especially those little red ones with the bows on the back.”
“Josh, how many times have I asked you to stay out of my underwear drawer?”
“Twenty-three times and counting.”
“Well, this makes twenty-four.”
“Noted, and ignored.”
“Good, then.”
He shoos me with his hand. “Make room, woman.” When I move to the far side of the bed, he climbs under the covers next to me.
I quickly shut off my phone before he can see the photo.
“So,” he says as he turns on his side and props up his head with his hand. “What’s up?”
“Nothing. Why?”
“Well, you just watched most of an episode of Dance Moms without hurling abuse at the television. That’s never happened before.”
“I’m just tired, I guess.”
“Uh-huh. And perhaps you’re preoccupied because of a certain ex-flame.”
I pick imaginary fluff off the sheet. “Nah.”
“Yeah.” He grabs my chin and makes me look at him. “Are you ever going to tell me what went down between you and Quinn? I got the impression you guys were just about the hot animal sex, but you really liked him, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t want to.”
“But you did.”
I shrug.
“Lissa, talk to me. You’ve been keeping your feelings for Quinn on the down-low for years? What the hell?”
I rub my eyes. This is one subject I don’t feel comfortable discussing. What I shared with Liam feels like a precious secret, and if I talk about it, the things I remember as bright and shiny will tarnish.
Josh lies on his back and closes his eyes. “Have it your way. I’m just going to rest here for a while. If you want to tell me a story of love and loss, that’s cool. If you don’t, no problem. I’ll just have extra time to refold everything in your underwear drawer.”
I smile and push him so hard, he almost falls out of bed.
“Fine,” I say as he chuckles and makes himself comfortable again. “Once upon a time on a Friday night, me and my pushy best friend had a date in Times Square.
Six Years Earlier
Times Square
New York City
“Hey, beautiful lady. Where you headed?”
A random drunk dude steps in front of me, and I hit him with a withering gaze. “I’m meeting my karate-expert boyfriend, so step aside or risk him splintering you like a kickboard.”
“Oh, sure. You just saying that to get rid of me? Or do you really got a boyfriend?”
I roll my eyes. “Look at me. I’m fine as hell. Of course I have a boyfriend. He’s right over there.”
I step around him, but I can feel him watching me as I climb the giant red staircase to where Josh is waiting.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he says before bending down and planting a soft kiss on my lips. “Can’t wait to take you home so we can have all the sex.” He says it loud enough for Random Drunk Guy to hear.
“Me, too,” I say, just as loudly. “The sex with you is my favorite. Your penis is like magic. And afterward, you can practice your lethal karate moves on people who hit on me.”
Random Drunk Guy scowls and turns away, and I sit down and sigh. It’s ridiculous how often we have to do that.
“The magic-penis line is new,” Josh says as he casually drapes his arm around my shoulders. “I like it. It’s good for my ego.”
“I’m glad. But you know if you ever say something about my vagina, I’m going to hurt you, right?”
“Yep. I haven’t forgotten last time. Neither have my balls.”
I smile and lean my head on his shoulder.
Having a boy for a best friend can be both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, I always have a way to duck unwanted male attention when needed, but on the other hand, guys I want to notice me see Josh and assume I’m attached, so they steer clear. It can be frustrating.
I haven’t dated anyone seriously since high school, and even though I’m mostly happy about that because men are a distraction I don’t need right now, sometimes I have a twinge of longing. A wistful desire for something more.
At least I have Josh. Tonight we’re doing one of our fave activities, which is sitting in the middle of Times Square and playing “Fuck, Marry, Kill” with people who pass by.
“Okay, let’s do this,” Josh says as he points to people loitering in front of us. “Cowboy hat, skinny jeans, and chubby suit.”
“Hmmm. Tough one. They’re all pretty bad.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m going to need a decision.”
“Fine. Kill Skinny Jeans because then he can’t raise sons who will follow in his ridiculous hipster ways, marry Chubby Suit because it’s obvious the man has a job and can pay for my cheese addiction, and fuck Mr. Cowboy Hat because he looks like he’d know his way around a filly, if you know what I mean.”
Josh frowns. “You’d fuck him because he can walk around a horse? I don’t understand.”
I elbow him. “Stop it. You know Mr. Literal is my least favorite of your personalities.”
“Wow, tough crowd. Okay, your turn.”
“Pink faux fur,” I say, and point to a girl with three-inch heels and six-inch hair.
Josh screws up his face. “Oh, Jesus. No. Kill.”
I point to a girl who I’m guessing has spent the equivalent of a year’s worth of wages on plastic surgery. “Fake-boob bobblehead.”
Josh tilts his head, and shrugs. “Fuck, but with the lights out.”
A girl in fishnets and a bowler hat walks by, handing out flyers to the people in the TKTS line scrambling to get last-minute seats for tonight’s shows.
“Liza Minnelli wannabe.”
Josh gets a look in his eye I know only too well. Theater girls give him a major boner.
“Marry,” he says, and his voice cracks a little. “God, look at her. ‘Come to Papa, baby.’ She could keep that whole outfit on in the bedroom.”
“Nuh-uh. If you marry her, you don’t get to bang her.”
He turns to me, his brows furrowed. “What? Since when don’t married people get to have sexual relations?”
“Uh, since this game was invented.”
“Bullshit.”
“Josh, how do you not know how this works? You get to fuck someone once, marry them forever but no sex, or kill them dead.”
“No way! It’s always been fuck them once, marry them so you can fuck them forever, or kill them after you’ve fucked them because the sex would be horrible.”
“Are you kidding me? Out of all the times you’ve been wrong since I’ve known you, this is the wrongest.”
He scowls. “ ‘Wrongest’ isn’t even a word.”
“I know, but I had to make something up to fully express how wrong you are right now.”
I feel warmth at my back right before a deep voice says, “Your girlfriend’s right, man. You’ve been playing it wrong. You don’t get to have sex when you’re married. Everyone knows that.”
I turn around, and leaning forward from his position on the step behind us is the most attractive man I’ve ever seen.
Oh, wow.
It’s like there was a lottery somewhere on facial perfection, and this guy won the jackpot. Sandy-brown hair, thick and wavy, unbelievable blue-green eyes, full lips curled into a wry smile.
Congratulations on your face, sir.
I glance at the thick biceps peeking out of his T-shirt.
And your body. Congrats on it all.
He would be Fuck. Most definitely.
Josh must notice my reaction because he quickly says, “Oh, she’s not my girlfriend. I mean, we used to date but I couldn’t keep up with her in the sack. She was insatiable. All day, every day. I never knew one woman was capable of taking that much dick—”
I squeeze Josh’s thigh until he squirms. “Please excuse my friend. He knows I’m going to kill him now, and fear of the afterlife makes him babble.”
Mr. Fuck gives me a smile. Well, he gives it to both of us, but I’m claiming it because his gaze lingers on me longer. I’m fairly certain he checks out my boobs. It gives me tingles. I haven’t had tingles this powerful for . . . well, ever.
The hottie must approve of what he sees, because his tone is undeniably flirty. “So if your friend is the one getting killed, who are you going to fuck and who are you going to marry?” The way he says it leaves no doubt in my mind which he’d rather be.
He holds his hand out to me. “I’m Liam, by the way. Liam Quinn.”
I take his hand and try to keep my expression passive as the feel of his skin lights me up more than all the giant billboards around us. “I’m Elissa. Holt.”
“Very nice to meet you, Elissa.” He unashamedly stares as he continues to hold my hand.
Oh, he’s good. No doubt he uses this technique all the time to turn girls into piles of goo. I’m a little irritated it works on me. I thought I was immune to this type of smug self-awareness.
Liam. Even his name is sexy.
Josh clears his throat. “Okay, so you guys have been shaking hands for a creepy amount of time, and now I’m super-uncomfortable. I’m Josh, by the way. In case you care.”
Liam laughs and shakes his hand. “Nice to meet you too, Josh.”
Josh gives him a skeptical nod. “Sure it is. Elissa, should we invite our new friend to have dinner with us?”
That snaps me out of my tunnel vision. It’s one thing for me to lust after a handsome stranger. It’s another to do anything about it.
“Uh . . . I’m sure Liam has better things to do.”
Liam shrugs. “Not really. I’m seeing King Lear at eight, but considering I’ve been stood up, I’m at a loose end ’til then.”
Josh’s scoffs. “You’ve been stood up?”
“Well, ‘dumped’ would be a more accurate description. By the girl I’ve been with for a year.”
“What the hell?” Josh seems more upset about it than Liam does. “But you look like one of those male-model dudes in the fancy magazines. Fussy woman, was she, your ex?”
Liam shrugs. “She liked me, but hated my bank balance. She’s now dating some rich douche from Wall Street.”
“Fast rebound.”
Liam gives a bitter smile. “Yeah. Not so much a rebound as an overlap, but whatever.”
There’s a moment of uncomfortable silence before Josh says, “You know, Elissa was dumped as well. What a coincidence, right? Two single, attractive dumpees like yourselves having this random meeting. It’s like fate.”
Liam gives Josh a smile, then looks at me. “I totally believe in fate.”
I look down at my hands. Fate or not, I don’t know that I’m ready for the emotions this man is bringing out in me.
Over the past four years, I’ve had three boyfriends, and all three have thrown me over for other women. To say my confidence with men has taken a hit would be an understatement.
When my last relationship ended in a blaze of abject humiliation, I decided I was done with men, at least for the foreseeable future. I have a very specific five-year plan, and getting destroyed again isn’t part of it. Josh keeps hassling me to jump back into the dating pool with both feet, but I’m content to wade in the shallow end. It may be frustrating to never take the plunge, but there’s zero chance of drowning.
“So, does the invitation for dinner still stand?” Liam asks as he hits me with those stunning eyes again. “Because I’m starved.”
Me, too. I just didn’t realize how much before I saw him.
Never one to let an opportunity pass, Josh answers for me. “Absolutely, Liam. Elissa would love for you to come.” He smiles over his double entendre.
I grab his sleeve. “Uh, Joshua? May I speak to you for a moment please? Excuse us, Liam.”
I pull him down to the bottom of the stairs. “What are you doing?”
“Getting you a date.”
“I don’t want a date.”
“Yes you do. You just won’t admit it. I love you, but I’ve been the only man you’ve seen naked in months, and that’s only because I accidentally sent you dick pics intended for someone else.”
How do I tell him that all my alarm bells are going off about Liam? That some part of me thinks he’s more than just hot, and therefore, dangerous? I can’t even figure out how I’m feeling, let alone find a way to articulate it.
Josh is looking at me with concern. “Hey, I was just following your lead. When your jaw hits the floor over a guy, I play wingman. Is that not what’s happening here?”
I run my fingers through my hair. “You’re the best, Josh, really. Dick pics aside. I’m just not sure I’m up to this tonight.”
Josh glances over at Liam. “Well, let’s at least have dinner. Then he’ll go to his show and you’ll go home, and if you want to jump him in the future, you can give him your number. All good?”
I nod. I guess there’s no harm in that.
As we head back over to the stairs, Liam and Josh start up an easy conversation about sports. They look like they’ve known each other for years.
In some ways, I think that’s what’s throwing me about Liam. We’ve just met, but some part of me feels like I’ve always known him. And that part is freaking the hell out.
Ten minutes later, we’re sitting in Gino’s on 42nd street, debating which pizza to get.
Liam frowns at the menu. “Uh . . . you guys choose. I’m not fussy. I’ll eat anything.”
“That’s good,” says Josh. “Because Elissa is so damn fussy, she’ll only be truly happy if they let her in the kitchen to make her own.”
I keep my focus down on the menu. “Just because I like things a certain way doesn’t mean I’m fussy, Joshua Kane.”
“Actually,” Josh says. “Liking things a certain way is the definition of fussy. But let’s be honest. You take fussy to a whole new level with your food ratios.”
“Ratios?” Liam asks, and nudges my foot under the table. “I’m intrigued. Tell me more.”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
“Aw, come on.”
Josh chuckles. “I think she’s concerned that if we tell you about her obsession with food proportions, you’ll run a mile.”
My face heats. Yes, he probably would.
“Not likely. I’m too hungry to run anywhere.” Liam tries to catch my eye. When I look up at him, he smiles. “Please. I want to know.”
I sigh and put my menu down. “When I eat, I like the ratios of all the ingredients to be equal. So, if there are four things on the plate, say, meat and three veggies, I need a little bit of each of them in every mouthful.”
“She calls it ‘The Theory of Yummability,’ ” Josh says. “It’s fascinating to watch. She carves everything up with surgical precision, then loads the tiny pieces onto her fork. It would be artistic if it wasn’t so fucking weird.”
Liam shrugs. “I don’t find it weird. I think it’s cool. I have a similar thing with chips and dips. I need to have exactly the right ratio of dip on the chip, otherwise you can’t taste them equally.”
“Yes!” I say, and sit forward. “That’s my point. It’s all about subtle combinations. Why put something in your mouth unless you’re really going to enjoy it, right?”
The way Liam’s eyes widen makes me realize that statement could be taken a whole other way.
He gives me a slow smile. “I totally agree.”
I take a sip of water to cover my sudden blush, and thankfully, Josh swoops in to change the subject.
“So Liam, the question we really need you to answer right now is this: Are you legal?”
Liam moves his attention to Josh. “As in . . . ?”
“Over twenty-one?”
“Uh . . . yeah. Why?”
“Because I need you to order us some beer while I drain the lizard. Pretty sure we all need a drink.” He mutters under his breath, “Before we all choke on the sexual tension.”
As Josh gets up and heads to the back of the restaurant, Liam looks over at me with concern. “Wait a minute. You guys can’t buy beer?”
“In two years we can,” I say.
“Two years?!” A nearby couple turns to look at him, and he leans in and whispers, “You’re only nineteen?”
“Yes.”
He rubs his face. “Oh, God. I’m bad. I’m a bad, bad man.”
“Why?”
“I thought you were older.”
“How much older?”
“An age that doesn’t have ‘teen’ at the end of it, that’s for damn sure. When I saw you tonight, I thought you were . . .” He looks me up and down, and the heat of his gaze makes me fan myself with the menu. “Well, you seemed way more mature than nineteen.”
“For your information,” I say with an edge of petulance that ironically makes me seem much younger, “I’ve always been mature for my age. How old are you, then, Father Time?”
He leans back in his chair, and I don’t miss the way his T-shirt strains across his impressive chest. “I’m a bona de adult, kid. Twenty-two. And three quarters.”
I feign horror. “Ew, gross! You seemed way younger. I can’t believe I’ve been having impure thoughts about a crusty old man.”
He smiles. “Are just saying that to show me how stupid I’m being about our age gap? Or have you actually been fantasizing about me?” He leans forward. “Because I’m really hoping it’s the second thing.”
I look down at my water glass and smile. “I have a feeling fantasizing about you would lead to nothing good.”
“Really?” he asks. I can feel him staring at me. “Because I’ve never had a single complaint. Well, apart from that one time with my ex-girlfriend, but it was an isolated incident and I’d had way too much to drink.”
I laugh and look up at him. He joins in with a low chuckle.
Great. His laugh is just as sexy as the rest of him. Not cool.
We’re still smiling at each other when the waitress arrives to take our drink order.
“Three beers,” Liam says as he looks at me. “Wait, scrap that. Two beers and a Coke. I need to make sure I’m in top form tonight.” When he looks into my eyes, I have that twinge of frustration again that his cockiness actually turns me on.
As the waitress leaves, I take a sip of water and study him. He meets my scrutiny without embarrassment. “You’re confident you’re going to get lucky tonight, aren’t you?”
He shrugs. “I figure you wouldn’t have asked me out to dinner if you weren’t interested.”
“Josh was the one who invited you, and I hate to break it to you, but he’s straight.”
“Uh-huh, but it was clear he was playing wingman. I saw how you looked at me. I liked it.”
I lean back and cock my head. “Haven’t you just broken up with someone?”
“Yes. Which is why you should take me to bed and nurse my shattered ego.”
That makes me laugh. “I have a feeling your ego is just fine.”
“Maybe. But a little extra stroking never hurts.”
A shiver of anticipation runs through me. Okay, this isn’t good. As a rule, I never sleep with guys on a first date, but Liam is quickly chipping away at my resolve. The trouble is, I have no doubt that having sex with him would lead to a whole mess of emotional stuff I’m not prepared to deal with right now.
When I glance over at him, he’s staring at me with a deep frown. I can’t figure out if he’s concerned or confused.
“You okay?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Not sure. I have this overwhelming urge to spend more time with you tonight, but I don’t want to come across as needy or desperate.”
“Hmmm. Dilemma. What are you going to do?”
He reaches into his pocket. “Invite you to come to King Lear with me? Thanks to my ex, who’d prefer to bang a guy in a thousand-dollar suit than attend the theater, I have an extra ticket. It’d be a shame for it to go to waste.”
He puts the tickets on the table and I study them. “Oh, wow. The Lowbridge Shakespeare Company? My mom has taken my brother and me to their productions since we were kids. I think that’s why Ethan and I both chose the careers we did.”
“Oh? You guys work in theater?”
“Yeah. We’ve both applied to The Grove in Westchester.”
Liam looks impressed. “Wow. Good school. So you’re an actress? I should have known. A woman as gorgeous as you, it makes sense you’d be on the stage.”
With talk like that, my blush isn’t disappearing anytime soon. “Actually, I prefer backstage. I’m a stage manager.”
Liam’s expression intensifies. “Okay. Not sure why I find that so much sexier than being an actress, but I do. Weird.”
This boy has a silver tongue, that’s for sure. I wonder what it would taste like.
“What about you?” I ask. “You’re not an actor, are you?”
Liam smiles. “Wow. Don’t like actors, huh?”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because it looks like you might laser me to death with your eyeballs if I say yes. Care to explain?”
“Not really. It’s a long story.” My aversion to actors is strong, but I didn’t realize I was so transparent. “I just don’t date actors, that’s all.”
He looks at me for a few seconds, then says, “Well, this isn’t strictly a date, is it? So it doesn’t matter what I am. However, if you come to the theater with me . . . well, that’s a whole other story.”
I look down at the tickets. They’re fantastic seats, and I really do want to see this production.
Liam notices my hesitation. “To steal a phrase from Josh, I’d love for you to come.” He gives me another one of those looks that makes me melt. “Take that any way you like, as long as you say yes.”
The sexual innuendo is much more effective coming from him. “Okay. Can I at least give you some money? They’re expensive seats.”
“No way,” he says. “But you can pay for the pizza. Deal?”
“You pay hundreds of dollars for tickets, and I pay twenty bucks for pizza? Hardly seems fair.”
“Three hundred dollars for the pleasure of your company, beautiful Elissa? Seems like a bargain, if you ask me.”
Jesus. His smoothness is killing me.
As a rule, smugness turns me off, but not tonight. There’s a sincerity to his flirting that presses all my buttons.
An hour later, when we all exit the restaurant, laughing like fools, I’m even more conflicted. I never thought I’d meet someone who could match the special dynamic Josh and I share, but Liam does. Easily.
“Okay, guys,” Josh says as he glances down the street. “I have a hot date with the girl who’s playing Elphaba in Wicked, and if I’m lucky, I’ll have green face paint in strange and unusual places before midnight.” Liam holds out his hand, and Josh shakes it. “Nice to meet you, Liam. Hope we’ll be seeing you again. Please keep in mind that, even though you could crush my head with your bare hands, I’m going to have to ask you to treat Elissa with respect, or face the consequences.”
“What consequences?”
“Me running into your fist with my head, multiple times. But, be warned. I have a thick skull. Your knuckles will never be the same.”
Liam gives him a smile. “Noted. I promise to behave.”
“Elissa, I’ll call you tomorrow.” Josh hugs me and whispers in my ear, “Be good. And if you can’t be good, be safe. I snuck a condom into your bag in case you decide to break your golden rule. Don’t be afraid to use it.”
I squeeze him. “You’re the best. And the worst.”
After kissing me on the cheek, Josh disappears into the evening crowd, and just like that, my security blanket is gone. Being alone with Liam ramps up the tension between us even more.
We stare at each other for a few seconds before Liam clears his throat. “So, I hear King Lear’s a bit of an asshole. We probably shouldn’t keep him waiting.” He offers me his arm. “Shall we?”
It’s so old-fashioned and gallant, I laugh. “I guess we shall.” As soon as I link my hand into the crook of his elbow, he sucks in a quick breath. “Are you okay?”
He looks down at my hand on his arm and gives a tight nod. “Yep. Just concerned I may have lied to Josh when I said I’d behave.”
We head toward the theater, and I’m acutely aware of how soft his skin is beneath my fingers. “Would it help if I told you I don’t sleep with guys I just met?”
“Not really. I don’t usually sleep with girls I’ve just met, either, but you’re making me want to murder that rule and melt its body with acid.”
I laugh. “Well, we have three hours of Shakespeare about a mad, violent, misogynistic monarch ahead of us. I’m sure by the time we’re done, sex will be the last thing on our minds.”
He gives me a skeptical shrug. “If you say so.”
When we walk out of the theater three hours later, it’s clear Liam’s skepticism was well-founded. My entire body is buzzing with energy. Not only was the production incredible, but sitting next to him in a darkened theater for all that time was like low-voltage electrocution.
I’ve never had such a powerful reaction to a man before.
“So,” he says. “That was amazing.”
“It really was. Thanks for the ticket.”
“Thanks for the company.”
I hear us making lame small talk, but there’s nothing lame about what’s passing between us. I’ve got so much adrenaline going on, I feel like I could Hulk-jump into traffic and flip over a cab.
Liam looks around and bounces on his toes. “I don’t know about you, but I’m too buzzed to go home yet.”
“Same.”
“I was hoping you’d say that. Come on.”
As we push through the after-show crowds and head back toward Times Square, Liam puts his hand in the middle of my back so we don’t lose each other. It adds another layer of tension to my already overworked adrenal glands.
At this time of night, the atmosphere in the Broadway area is electric. There are thousands of people pouring out of all the theaters, giddy and high in the way only live theater can make someone. Liam and I dodge and weave, but I have no clue where we’re going. After a while he gives up trying to steer me from the rear and grabs my hand so he can lead me instead. His fingers are warm and rough, and the shape of them feels so familiar it’s bizarre.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
He looks back at me and smiles. “Does it matter?”
I know I should be cautious because I know so little about him, but for some reason, I feel safe. Everything about him is brand-new and familiar at the same time. Like there’s been a tune playing in my head for my whole life, and he’s finally given it words.
After we pass through the mayhem of the main square, we travel a few blocks down and head toward the river. At last, he stops at a doorway shoehorned between a thrift shop and a dry cleaner.
“This is my building,” he says, and brushes his thumb against the back of my hand. “My apartment’s old and cramped, but . . . do you want to come up?”
I look at the grimy door. “Do I have to?”
He chuckles. “Of course not. I just . . .” He takes a step forward, and my breath catches. “I don’t want to say good night yet. I don’t have any alcohol, but I have milk and cookies. And if you play your cards right, I’ll show you my roof garden.”
“Is that a euphemism?” I’m surprised at how husky my voice sounds.
The way Liam’s gaze falls to my mouth, I think he likes it. He leans forward, and I press my back into the door. “It’s whatever you say it is.” His voice sends shivers across my skin.
“Even if I come upstairs with you, my statement about not having sex tonight stands.”
The edges of his mouth twitch, but he doesn’t smile. “Okay.”
I put my hand on his chest. “I’m serious.”
He looks down at my hand, then covers it with his own and presses my palm into his pec. My breathing speeds up. So does his.
“I’m not taking you upstairs to seduce you, Elissa,” he says as he lightly strokes my fingers. “Even though I’m pretty sure I could.”
“Wow. So arrogant.” He gives me a lusty smile, and I narrow my eyes. “You don’t think I can resist you?”
He puts his hand on the wall next to my head and moves closer. I put my other hand on his chest. Not to stop him. Just to feel more of his body.
He closes his eyes and exhales before looking at me again. “If you’re feeling even half of the attraction I’m feeling toward you, then, no, I don’t think you could resist. In fact, I think if I kissed you right now, we’d barely make it through that door before tearing each other’s clothes off and fucking like there’s no tomorrow. But I promise, if you come upstairs, I’ll behave. Maybe you should vow to do the same. The way you’re touching me? It makes me think you want to ride me hard and put me away cold. May I remind you that I’m a man, Elissa. Not a sexual plaything.”
My lungs tighten as I stare at his mouth. Damn him to hell for conjuring up an image of me riding him.
“Point taken.” I reluctantly remove my hands. I’m trying to keep my cool, but his nearness has set my heart to hammering in my chest. “Liam, I swear on the life of my hamster not to use you as a sexual plaything.”
He looks crestfallen. “Not even if I beg?”
I smile. “Not even then.”
“Just so we’re clear,” he says as he leans down to whisper in my ear. “If you ever beg to be my sexual plaything, I’ll make it happen in record time. More than once, if necessary.”
“So selfless.”
“I really am.” He gives me a sexy smile before stepping back to open the door. I follow him inside, and we climb five flights of stairs to get to his apartment. By the time we get there, my desire for him has been joined by a burning in my lungs.
“You okay?” he asks, and gently touches my shoulder.
“Yep. Just trying to disguise my extreme fitness so I don’t intimidate you.”
“Great job. You have me completely fooled.”
“Right? Maybe I should have been an actress after all.” I take a deep breath and let it out. Goddamn, I’m unfit.
When we make it inside, I realize how much he wasn’t kidding about the size of his apartment. It’s a studio with a tiny kitchenette on one side and what seems to be an equally tiny bathroom on the other. In the middle is a space just big enough for a sofa bed.
“So,” Liam says, “let me give you the tour.” He doesn’t move. “Aaaand we’re done.”
I can tell he’s embarrassed, but he needn’t be. In New York, there are heaps of micro-apartments just like this. In fact, I’ve seen worse.
What sets this one apart is that it’s spotless. The furniture and appliances are dated, but they’re all immaculate. There’s not a single thing out of place. The bed is even made.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Were you expecting to bring someone back here tonight?”
“No. Why?”
“It’s super-clean. And your bed’s made. I have it on good authority from my brother that most men are missing the bed-making gene.”
He leans into me, and I feel his warm breath on my ear. “You don’t know me well enough yet to have realized I’m not most men. But if it makes you more comfortable, we could unmake the bed. Just say the word.”
A shudder of pleasure runs up my spine. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of destroying such perfection. Are those hospital corners?”
“If you find that sexy, then yes.”
I let out a soft groan. “Such a turn-on.” He chuckles, thinking I’m teasing, but I’m really not. I’m a self-confessed neat freak, and knowing he keeps a tidy house makes me all kinds of hot.
“Well, if you’re finished eye-fucking my bed,” he says, “I have something else to show you.”
“If it’s a recently cleaned bathroom, I don’t think my body’s ready.”
He clucks his tongue. “Dammit. I knew I should have scrubbed the tub this morning.” He squeezes past me and heads into the kitchen. Within a few seconds, he’s grabbed a bag of chocolate chip cookies, two glasses, and a half-empty gallon of milk from the fridge. “Come on. If the apartment gets you hot, then you’re going to go nuts over the roof garden.”
He leads me out of the apartment and up two more flights of stairs. Goddammit. No wonder he’s so ripped. If I had to climb all these stairs every day, I’d be able to bounce the Federal Reserve’s entire stash of quarters off my butt.
At the top of the stairs, he flips a switch before opening the door to the roof. When I step out, what I see almost takes my breath away.
It’s like a tropical oasis up here. There are dozens of potted palms of various sizes, and in the middle of them is an intricate wooden pergola wrapped in hundreds of tiny lights.
“Wow. That’s, just . . . wow.” I’m rarely lost for words, but now is one of those times.
“I built the pergola for Mom and Dad’s anniversary last year. They just sold their house to move into an apartment, and had nowhere to put it, so they brought it here.”
“It’s beautiful.” The dark wood has been painstakingly carved with vines and flowers. “I bet they loved it.”
“Yeah, Mom cried. Dad patted me on the shoulder and went quiet for a while, which is his equivalent of crying.”
I smile. “That’s a pretty incredible present to give them. Trying to win the award for world’s best son?”
He looks down, and I don’t miss the subtle change in his posture. “Well, they’ve had a tough time over the past couple of years. I wanted to do something nice.”
I see names carved into the wood at the top of the pergola. “Angus and Eileen. Good Irish names.”
“Yeah.”
I see another name and squint so I can make it out. “Does that say . . . James?”
Liam blinks a few times. “Yeah. My twin brother.”
I just about choke on my tongue. “Twin? As in identical twin?”
Lord, I don’t know if I can cope with two men this perfect existing in this world.
Liam takes in a deep breath. “Yeah. We were identical.”
“Were?”
“He was . . . he’s . . .” He looks at the ground. “He died.”
“Oh. Liam . . .”
“Two years ago.”
My heart breaks for him. Losing a brother would be bad enough, but I’ve heard twins share an especially powerful bond. “God, I’m so sorry.”
The way he shrugs and waves his hand tells me he doesn’t want to talk about it. Before I can say anything else, he urges me forward. “Come on. I didn’t bring you up here to watch me wallow. I can do that by myself.”
Beneath the pergola are a couple of old couches and a coffee table. We each take a couch, and he lays out our supplies before filling the glasses.
He still seems tense, so I try and lighten the mood. “I love milk, but a beer would have been better.”
“Not happening,” he says, as his mouth presses into a determined line. “You’re underage, young lady, and I refuse to further contribute to the corruption of a minor. Now, drink your milk like a good girl.” He gives me a half-smile.
“Yes, Granddad.”
We’re both quiet for a few moments as we munch on our cookies. When we’re done, he stands and gestures for me to follow. “Come on. I haven’t shown you the best part.” He leads me to the edge of the building and climbs up on the ledge.
“Is that safe?” I ask, trying to peer over. It’s at times like this I hate being a short-ass.
He offers me his hand. “Trust me.”
Strangely, I do, and when I put my hand in his, he pulls me up with so little effort, it’s surreal. For a moment I panic and grip his arms, but then I see that the ledge isn’t as narrow as it first seems. Also, there’s a fire escape right below us.
“Okay?” he asks, his hands firm on my waist.
“Uh-huh.”
“Then look up. The fire escape is cool and everything, but it’s not what I wanted you to see.”
When I raise my eyes, I see what he means. Across the street is a shiny new apartment complex. The entire lobby is covered in reflective glass, and through some miracle of technology, I can see the visual cacophony that is Times Square blinking up at us.
My mouth drops open. “What am I looking at?”
“Rear projection,” Liam says. “Incredible, right? Whoever designed the building realized that one of the huge draws of living in this area is the excitement of Times Square, so they incorporated it into the building’s design. It’s a live feed of what’s happening six blocks away.”
I’m floored at how spectacular the projection is. “Have you figured out where the camera is yet?”
“No, but I look for it every now and then. From the angle, I figure it’s on a light pole. Look, you can see the stairs where we met tonight.”
He’s right. The staircase is now teeming with people.
There’s an old adage that says no matter where you come from, if you stand in the middle of Times Square for fifteen minutes, you’ll see someone you know. I don’t know if it’s true, but I should try it one day. There’s nowhere on the planet quite like Times Square. The ambience, the energy, the connection to all things Broadway. I feel like it’s a part of me.
“I could watch this all night.”
“Then my evil plan to spend more time with you has succeeded. Excellent.” Liam sits on the ledge and urges me to follow. When we’re settled, our legs dangle over the edge and our thighs press against each other. It almost distracts me from the view.
Liam leans back on his hands. “This is why I spend so much time on the roof. I can sit up here and people-watch without having to leave my building. Cool, right?”
“Very cool.”
I envy Liam for living here, practically in the midst of it all. My parents’ brownstone up on Sixty-fourth Street suddenly seems light-years away. And boring as hell.
As if sensing what I’m thinking, Liam asks, “So where do you hail from, Elissa? Manhattan?”
“Yep. Upper East Side. Still living with my parents.”
“Of course you are. You’re a child.” I poke him with my elbow, and he laughs.
“If I get into The Grove, I’ll have to move to Westchester. Not gonna lie: I’m looking forward to getting out on my own. Well, I’d have to live with my big brother, but still . . .”
He’s silent for a moment, then says, “Westchester, huh? I guess it’s not that far away.” He says it so quietly, I don’t know if he’s talking to himself or me. “So your parents are still married?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Mine, too. What are the odds? Out of everyone I know, I’m the only person whose parents aren’t divorced. Not only that, but my folks are still so in love, it’s embarrassing. Gives me hope that true love still exists, you know?”
“That’s a romantic sentiment from a man who’s just had his heart broken.”
He lets out a short laugh. “I’m hardly heartbroken. Don’t get me wrong, I liked Leanne, but I didn’t love her.”
“But, weren’t you with her for a year?”
“I was.”
“And yet, you didn’t love her?”
He shrugs. “We got along well. The sex was fine. That was enough for me.” He turns to me, and the lights from the projection across the street sparkle in his eyes. “I figure that when my true love comes along, I’ll know. I mean, look at my mom and dad. They met on the subway forty-five years ago. Even though it was love at first sight for both of them, they went their separate ways at the end of the line and didn’t see each other again for six years. Then, they literally ran into each other in the middle of Central Park. Out of all the people in New York, they ended up finding each other. If that’s not fate, I don’t know what is.”
“Yes, but you said it yourself: Your parents are the exception. It doesn’t happen like that for most people.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he says as he gazes at me. “Look at what happened tonight. Out of all the women in New York, I found you.”
I give him a skeptical brow. “Why do I get the feeling I’m not the first woman you’ve flirted with on those steps?”
“Wrong,” he says. “Never done it before. Still not sure why I did it tonight.” There’s mischief in his eyes, so I have no idea if he’s telling the truth or not.
“I see,” I say. “So you’re saying you fell in love with me at first sight?”
He leans forward. “Maybe. Meet me in the middle of Central Park in six years, and I’ll let you know for sure.”
We stare at each other for long seconds, and the urge to kiss him is crazy strong.
“You have the most beautiful lips I’ve ever seen,” he whispers. My lips tingle just from his words. I put my hand over them to make them stop. That makes him smile. “And I find it sexy as hell that every time I’ve said something nice to you tonight, your cheeks have turned bright pink. It makes me wonder why you’re so embarrassed to receive compliments. I’m sure men tell you how gorgeous you are all the time.”
I press my hand to my rapidly heating face. I’d be lying if I denied receiving compliments regularly, and usually I’m confident enough to take them graciously. But Liam has the power to turn me into a blushing freak, and I find that very uncool.
“Can we please change the subject?” I say. “Blushing isn’t my favorite thing to do, and if you keep talking about my lips, it’s going to keep happening.”
“Fine by me.” When I glare at him, he chuckles. “Okay, then, let’s talk about why you don’t believe in fate. Or love at first sight. Or any of that romantic stuff most girls subscribe to. What’s the story?” Subject change or not, he’s still staring at my mouth.
“No story. Statistics tell us that true love is a myth, and I haven’t seen anything to prove otherwise.”
He brings his gaze up to mine, and I can’t believe how beautiful his eyes are. Green-blue with a dark navy ring around the outside. I’ve never seen anything like them.
“Sounds reasonable, but I’m sensing there’s more to it. So, you can either level with me voluntarily, or I’ll be forced to get the information through less-than-gentlemanly means, and trust me when I say I would really enjoy that.”
Okay, now he’s just flat-out trying to destroy my composure, and I’m horrified it’s working.
“It’s really not that interesting,” I say, looking down at my hands. “Let’s just say that if I had a business card, it would read ‘Elissa Holt, Preparer of Men for Other Women.’”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’ve had a handful of boyfriends, and they’ve all dumped me to be with someone else. Every one. It’s possible I’m cursed.”
I look up to see him watching me thoughtfully. “I see. And where did you meet these mentally incompetent jackasses?”
“In drama club,” I say with a laugh. “They were all actors, and they all left me for their leading ladies.”
“Ahh, that explains your earlier reaction. So now you think all actors are bastards?”
A ghost of past heartache twinges in my chest. “No. Just the ones I fall in love with. So now, I have a no-actor rule. It’s working out great so far.”
He’s silent for a moment, and then says, “Okay—I get it,” before turning to stare across the street.
We’re silent for a while, and when his shoulder brushes against mine, I close my eyes and sigh.
Okay, great. He’s gorgeous, arrogant, and spends hundreds of dollars on Shakespeare tickets—of course he’s an actor. And I’ve just shut down the possibility of anything happening between us.
I shake my head in frustration over yet again being drawn to exactly the type of man I’m trying to avoid.
Why couldn’t he be a policeman? Or a construction worker? Or a cowboy?
Wait, did I just wish for him to be a member of the Village People?
Liam’s shoulder brushes mine again. It makes me tingle, and I suspect he’s doing it on purpose. I really need to get out of here, because the longer I stay, the more tempted I am to say “screw it” to my sense of self-preservation and just give in to the dozens of horny fantasies currently running through my mind.
Before I can move, he says, “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”
I turn to him. “How did you know?”
“You’ve been tensing up for the past few minutes. I figured you were either going to bail or rip off my shirt. Considering my shirt is sadly still in one piece, I guess leaving won out.”
I give him a smile, grateful he’s not making this harder than it needs to be. “Very perceptive. I have a big day tomorrow. I really should get home and go to bed.”
He leans forward a little, and dammit, he’s looking at my lips again. “I have a bed downstairs. It would be much faster to go there.”
I concentrate on keeping my breathing even as he continues inching toward me. “Yes, but I need to get some rest, and I have a feeling if we go to your bed, there’d be none of that.”
He’s so close now, he has to turn his head so our noses don’t bump. “No. There really wouldn’t.”
God, he smells good. And I have zero doubt he’d taste good. But more than anything, I know for damn sure he’d feel so good, one kiss would be all it would take for him to have me completely under his spell. Considering I don’t have the time or inclination to be in the thrall of a devastatingly attractive actor right now, I lean away from him and order my disgruntled body to stand down.
“And that’s why I need to leave,” I say, trying to convince myself as well as him. “Plus, you lied when you said you wouldn’t try to seduce me.”
He frowns. “Is that what was happening? Because I swear it was the other way around.”
“All I did was look at you.”
“Exactly.”
With a resigned sigh, he jumps down from the ledge and holds his arms up for me. I put my hands on his shoulders, then he grips my waist as he slowly lowers me down.
Lord, he’s strong. He holds me like I weigh nothing, and though I’m short, I’m also curvy. It’s not like I’m a featherweight.
When I’m on my feet, he doesn’t let go of my waist; in fact, his fingers tighten and release in an uneven rhythm. And I don’t let go of his shoulders. They’re beautiful. Hard and round. More muscular than those of any other man I’ve ever been with.
“There’s still time for the shirt-ripping option,” Liam says quietly as he stares down at me. “I promise I won’t judge you.”
I have a moment of weakness and graze my fingers down his arms, over his triceps, elbows, and forearms. His skin is so hot and smooth, I’m tempted to find out what his stomach feels like under his T-shirt. But if I head in that direction, there’s no way I’m getting out of here tonight.
As it is, I’m so aroused I’m nearly panting. “Maybe next time.”
He clenches his jaw, and I notice that his breathing is a little faster than it was a few minutes ago. “I’ll keep you to that.”
Our trek downstairs is filled with tension, and when he drops the supplies back in his apartment, I have one last longing look at his perfect body next to his perfect bed before taking him up on his offer to walk me to the subway station.
A few minutes later, we reach the stairwell that leads beneath the street.
I stop on the corner to face him. “Well, here we are.” I’m trying to disguise how reluctant I am to go, but there’s a good chance I’m failing.
He nods, and I can see tension in his jaw. “I guess so. Tonight was . . . special. Meeting you. Touching you. All of it.” He cocks his head. “But I have a terrible feeling you’re not going to offer me your number, are you?”
If you weren’t an actor, hell yes. But I’m almost sure you are, so I won’t.
I shake my head. “But maybe I’ll see you around?”
He lets out a short laugh. “In this city? Unlikely.”
“Unless fate, right?”
I mean it to be a joke, but his expression turns serious. “Yeah. Fate.”
He stares for a few seconds, then shoves his hands into his pockets and gives me a wry smile. “Of course, you know where I live now. So if you ever feel a deep, spiritual need for a booty call, you can drop by anytime. Day or night. Or day and night if you’re feeling tense. Apart from pristine bed-making, I also specialize in mind-blowing erotic massage.”
I suppress a laugh as a ball of warmth blooms in my stomach. “I have no doubt. Sure. I’ll drop by.”
He shakes his head. “You really are a terrible actress, aren’t you. You can’t even fake it to spare my ego?”
“I predict your ego will be just fine. Good night, Liam Quinn.” I hold out my hand as he goes for a hug. Then we laugh and step back. When he offers his hand, I shake it.
Jesus, most awkward moment ever. It gets even more awkward when we stop smiling and neither one of us lets go. We just continue to stand there and shake hands.
Liam lets out a breath. “Okay, so . . . this is where you walk away.”
“Yeah. I’ll just . . . go.” I take a tentative step away from him, but he doesn’t let go of my hand.
My back hits the wall of the building behind me as Liam steps forward. He’s so tall and his shoulders are so broad, they block out the light. In the shadows, his expression looks ravenous. I’ve had men look at me with desire before, but nothing like this. I can feel him holding himself back. Every muscle is tense, yet his fingers are gentle as they caress mine.
“Elissa.” He cups my face and leans down. When our noses brush, I can’t help but grip the front of his T-shirt. “Maybe you don’t have to leave just yet.”
My blood pressure is getting higher every second. “I really should.” My heart is thundering, roaring blood through my ears.
“Or maybe you can just stand there for a few minutes and let me do this.”
I stop breathing as he gently grazes his lips across mine.
Oh. Fuck.
No.
No, no, no.
Giant mistake.
My mind seizes. I’ve never felt lips so soft. He does it again, and my whole body flushes, inside and out.
“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice raspy.
I grip his T-shirt tighter. Not really.
I’ve tried to resist him all night, but now that I’ve felt his mouth, not wanting more is impossible.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you from the moment I saw you,” he whispers, and grazes my lips again. “You don’t even know how beautiful you are.”
I lay my hands at against his chest as he kisses me again, deeper this time. Light suction. Sudden inhale.
Goddammit.
Reality melts away in a lusty haze, and I’m physically incapable of not kissing him back. I suck on his lips as I push up onto my toes. He grunts in response and presses against me, all hard-bodied and strong. When our mouths open and tongues slide, every last shred of resistance frays and snaps. His mouth is heaven, and I want to live there.
“Unbelievable,” he mutters before kissing me harder.
I’m gone. Lost in his touch, and smell, and sweet, sweet taste. There’s no coming back from this.
I once read an Oscar Wilde quote that said, “A kiss may ruin a human life.” It perplexed me, because up until now, I’d always thought kisses were sweet but unimportant. But this kiss? It’s ruined me. This is the type of kiss I never knew existed. It’s like falling and flying, all in the same moment.
His fingers slide into my hair, and I hook my hands around his shoulders, desperate to get closer. I feel people passing us and even hear a few mutter, “Get a room,” but I really don’t care.
Liam kisses me like he was born to do it. Like he invented the concept and does it better than any other man on the planet. His mouth moves over mine with instinctual ease, and before long, our hands are grasping and pushing under clothes.
When his hands slide under the back of my T-shirt, a warning bell in my brain reminds me I’m making out on the street. With an actor. A really hot, probably fickle actor.
How much further am I going to let this go before I come to my senses?
Large hands close around my butt, and then he pulls me tight against him. The feel of his erection pressing against my stomach makes me moan.
Okay, then. A little further, apparently.
I’m about half a second away from exploring exactly how hard he is when my common sense screams at me to stop.
Gasping, I hold up a hand and pull back. “Wait a minute.” I suck in a few quick lungfuls of air. “I need to ask you a question, and you have to give me a straight answer.”
He breathes in shallow pants, his pupils huge. “I know what you’re going to ask, and yes, I do have a condom. Also, I’d be more than happy to risk being arrested so I can fuck you against this wall.”
“That’s not it.”
“You sure? That’s the vibe I was getting.”
“I know you avoided this earlier, but . . . what do you do for a living?”
He flinches. A sick sense of dread settles in my stomach, because I know I’m not going to like the answer.
“So if I said I’m an actor, you’d, what? Walk away from this?”
“I’d have to. You know why.”
Please, please, please don’t say it. I really like you and want more, but not if you confirm my suspicions.
He sighs. “Okay, fine. I get why you’re hesitant. After Leanne, I figure I won’t be dating any brunettes from Jersey for a while.”
“So now imagine you dated Leanne three times in a row and she dumped you each time. Then another Leanne came along. Wouldn’t you feel like a dumb-ass if you went there again? I just can’t do it.”
I see pity in his expression when he cups my cheek. “I understand. And luckily, I can say without a hint of a lie that I’ve never set foot on a stage in my life. I work in construction with my dad. Have ever since I left school.”
For a moment, I swear I’ve heard incorrectly. “Wait a minute. You’re actually a . . . construction worker?”
“Yes.”
I stifle a laugh. “You don’t happen to have friends who are policemen, cowboys, and Native Americans, do you?”
His brows furrow. “No. Why?”
“Not important. Why didn’t you tell me this earlier? Maybe I would have ripped off your shirt on the roof after all.”
He shrugs. “My girlfriend just dumped me for being a broke blue-collar worker. I guess you’re not the only one who’s afraid of rejection.”
I feel myself beaming. “Well, Leanne’s an idiot. I couldn’t be happier that you’re a construction worker. Best job ever.”
“Seems to me if you were truly happy about it, you’d kiss me again.”
I rise on my toes and capture his mouth. He makes a noise in his throat that vibrates all the way through his body. Then, he presses me back against the wall and takes charge again. Lord, his mouth is talented. And what’s more, he tastes incredible. Milk and cookies is now my favorite flavor.
After a few more frantic minutes, I really can’t breathe, so I pull back and stroke his chest. “Okay, we could do this all night, but it’s almost three a.m., and I wasn’t lying about having a big day tomorrow.”
He leans his forehead against mine, and his breathing is tight. “What are you doing tomorrow? And please say it includes seeing me again.”
“I can’t. I’m stage-managing Romeo and Juliet for the Tribeca Shakespeare Festival and our Romeo auditions are tomorrow.”
For a few seconds he looks confused. Then he smiles and shakes his head. “That’s . . . well, that’s great. Romeo auditions. Important job. So . . . uh . . . how are they going to figure out who gets the role?”
“The director’s looking for a strong, passionate Romeo. Usually he’s played as a whiny boy, but she’s wants a man.”
He studies me for a few moments. “Sounds reasonable. Can I see you when you’re done?”
I pull him down for a soft kiss. “Maybe.”
He steps away from me and runs his fingers through his hair. “I’m going to take that as a ‘yes.’ Now, you should probably leave while I have the strength to let you go. But first, give me your phone.”
“What for?”
“Quick selfie to capture the moment.”
I reach into my pocket and hand my phone over. He blows out a breath and brings up the camera. “Come here.” He puts his arm around me and pulls me into his side. “Ready?”
He holds the phone out, but before I can look up into the lens, he pulls my face around and kisses me, long and slow. Through a surge of dizzying hormones, I’m vaguely aware of the shutter clicking in the background.
When he pulls back, he shows me the picture. I get hot just looking at it. We look amazing together. Like we belong in a million-dollar ad campaign instead of a selfie.
He kisses me once more. “So you don’t forget me while we’re apart.”
As if that’s even remotely possible.
He pushes my phone into my back pocket, and not so subtly grazes my butt in the process. “See you soon, Liss.”
No one’s ever called me Liss before. Lissa, yes, but not Liss. Coming from him, it’s perfect.
He turns to leave, but I grab his arm. “Wait, you don’t have my number.”
“You refused to give it to me, remember?”
“That’s when I thought you were an actor. Construction-worker Liam can have my phone number and address. Hell, you can have my social security number, too, if you want it.”
He smiles and leans down for a final soft kiss. “Don’t need it. I’ll find you again.” He steps back and walks away.
“You seem awfully sure about that,” I say to his back.
He turns and gives me a smug smile. “I am. It’s fate.”