“TINLEY, WE COULD NOT be more pleased to have you back with all of us. It’s been far too long.” Mel Pitman, the show’s director raised a glass in my direction.
“I could not agree more,” Faye Goren echoed. She was Barrington Shores costume designer. I couldn’t believe that she was still working here after all this time. While there were plenty of new faces around the halls, it was amazing to see the familiar ones.
After I signed the contract, I was handed the script and I had just a few days to learn my lines before shooting started. To my surprise it was like riding a bike. Standing on Stage Thirty-One was like coming home, nothing had changed.
As I made my way through the small crowd gathered on the set, words of appreciation and congratulations on my first week echoed throughout the room. All I could think about was getting home and slipping into a hot bath.
Home. I loved Manhattan, but I loved East Harbour more. As much as I enjoyed working, I’d never craved a weekend so bad in all my life. It was pointless to drive back and forth since I was working in the city. I’d been staying at Aunt Maggie’s place instead of a hotel. She and her new husband, Harrison, decided to extend their trip and spend the rest of the summer in Europe.
“Tinley Atkinson. I cannot believe my eyes.” A saucy Aussie accent swept over me. Karina Bosworth pushed through the crowd and pulled me into a hug.
“Karina, hey.” I hugged her back, and without spilling my drink all over her. “It’s wonderful to see you.”
Karina played my half-sister on the show, and of all the familiar faces, hers was the one that I was most excited to see.
“Okay, so tonight, it’s pre-dinner cocktails at the Peninsula,” she said, looping her arm with mine. “Then onto Indigo Row for dancing.”
Well, Karina hadn’t changed much over the years. Back in the day, we’d go out to the hottest clubs in Manhattan. When you’re rich, famous, young, and hot—you could do pretty much whatever you wanted in this town. Karina knew the bouncers who’d let us in, and the bartenders who’d serve us despite being underage.
“Or there’s that new club, the one on Fifty-Sixth. Ever since the smut mogul was arrested there it’s been the new hot spot.”
I nearly choked on my champagne. “You know I don’t really do the club scene these days.”
“Oh, come on, darling, we must have drinks and catch up. I need to know everything that you have been up to in the last decade.”
“I think I could sum all that up for you in a lunch,” I replied with a laugh. “Besides it’s been a long week and I desperately want to get home.” Flicking my wrist, I looked at my watch, noting that my driver would be picking me up in forty-five minutes.
“Where are you calling home these days?”
“East Harbour, I bought a house there after graduating college. Actually, I’m hosting a fundraiser this weekend at The Harbour Polo Club you should come out. I’ll add your name to the list.”
“Oh, I adore the Hamptons,” she professed. “Two summers ago, I met this broker and we spent nearly every weekend together. His house was huge, his cock was huge—I mean the man literally had a horse cock, but he was positively dull.”
“You’re terrible.”
“I’m terrible,” she mocked, pointing at herself. “Darling, terrible is having the cock of a horse and the personality of a dead fish.”
“And yet, you still slept with him.”
“As soon as he called me sweetheart in that southern accent, I couldn’t resist.”
All I could do was nod and smile, because I knew that feeling. I didn’t know about Matthew’s cock, but his personality was levels above a dead fish. Getting a drink with Matthew sounded heavenly. My belly felt warm thinking back to the night in my hotel suite. Weeks later and I could still taste the tequila and lime on my tongue. I wanted Matthew Barber in the worst way. I should have kissed him that night, but I chickened out when we said goodnight. In college his picture hung on the wall over my bed, clipped on a strand of twinkle lights with a clothes pin. I’d stare at him for hours, dreaming of what it would be like to have his hard body pressed against mine.
A server whizzed by us and Karina plucked two flutes from the tray. “Here’s to having you back, Tinley. You and I are going to turn this show upside down.”
I took the glass from her hand. “Of that I am sure.”
Matthew: How did your first week go?
Tinley: Surprisingly well. Thank you for asking.
Matthew: Save me a dance tomorrow evening?
Tinley: I can’t make any promises.
Matthew: I’m going to pretend that you said: Yes, Matthew, I promise.
Tinley: Do what you need to.
Tinley: Where are you?
Matthew: In bed. Why?
Tinley: Curious.
Matthew: Where are you?
Me: In the bath.
Matthew: Send me a selfie. Soapy Thighs come to mind. I need a visual.
Matthew: Uhmm. That was actually supposed to say, “so many things come to mind.”
Tinley: Soapy Thighs totally works though. Lol.
Tinley: I’m not sending a selfie.
Matthew: I promise to delete it.
Tinley: That’s what Snapchat is for.
Matthew: What’s Snapchat?
Tinley: Image messaging app. One of the principal concepts of the app is that pictures are only available for a limited time before they disappear and are no longer accessible.
Matthew: There’s always a screenshot.
Tinley: Yes, but when a user takes a screenshot the person who posted the image is notified.
Matthew: Big brother ruining all the fun.
Tinley: Here you go.
Matthew: That’s quite the bubble bath. The pink champagne matches your toes.
Tinley: I’ll let that image send you into dreamland. Night xx
Matthew: Goodnight, darlin’.
Guests walked into The Harbour Polo Club gliding up the pink and red carpet passing by towering vases of red roses. A tapestry of ivory, laser cut lace hung above. Soft lighting filtered through the fabric casting images onto the carpet.
After passing through the arched doorway and the wall of roses that gradually shifted from white to lavender to red, they made their way into the Great Hall. The room was filled with cherry blossoms arranged in urns that were hand painted by students enrolled in the Youth Academy Programs across the Northeastern part of the United States.
Folding my arms, I looked around the room feeling quite satisfied with the décor. Stepping up to one of the dinner tables, I admired the blue and lavender linens that were decorated with custom-designed charger plates featuring a modern take on the rose motif. Some might say roses are overrated, but I found them to be classic—timeless. I watched as the staff lit the tall ivory pillar candles nestled among the red, burgundy, and lavender roses in glass vases.
“This is like a dream,” Holliday professed, passing me a vodka martini.
“That was the point—a beautiful dream or a reality where music and the arts bloom as natural as a garden, growing deep roots into America’s education system.”
“It’s a lovely dream.” Holliday bumped her shoulder with mine. “Now, let’s make it a reality.”
She strode away—the lights glinted off the beading of her black Oscar de la Renta floor-sweeping gown as she crossed the room. I took a swallow from my champagne glass and went over the three key points of my welcome speech.
“Are you ready?” Greta asked.
“I think that I am,” I replied handing her my glass. “Wish me luck.”
“You don’t need it you’ve done this dozens of times.” She smiled giving me a thumbs up as stepped in front of the lectern.
While that was true enough, tonight I needed to double last year’s total in order to have any kind of an impact for The Youth Academy’s next academic year. The Youth Academy was on the same calendar as the New York Public school system. Failure was not an option.
Just breathe.
Since I had been busy chatting with donors, I barely touched my dinner. When my mouth felt as dry as the sand in front of my Hamptons home, I stepped away to check my messages and grab a glass of champagne. My eyes caught Ronan sweeping Holliday across the dancefloor reminding me that I hadn’t seen Matthew all evening.
“Tinley, what a fabulous party.” Karina glided to where I was standing at the bar. “I never knew that I’d been craving conversations that don’t include me shouting over the loud thump of music or grinding against a Wall Street fuckboy.”
Shaking my head, I laughed. “I’m happy to provide some stimulating conversation.”
“Stimulating, yes—very.” She eyed the bartender, giving him a wink. “Fetch me another martini, please, handsome.”
“Miss Atkinson.”
I glanced up to see Sebastian Ranford. The corner of his mouth lifted, and he locked eyes with me.
“Hello, Ranford,” I replied. “Or should I say, hello, cousin? I still can’t believe that we’re related.”
Sebastian Ranford was one of the most powerful men in Manhattan, possibly the northern hemisphere. His company, Ranford Industries, was taking the oil industry by storm, making huge advancements in technology. And as of a few months ago, the two of us were family by marriage when his uncle married Aunt Maggie.
He cocked his head, eyeing Karina. “We might be related, but I’d like to get to know your friend, intimately.”
Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. Karina turned to face Sebastian, her fingers toying with the cocktail pick. She had a devious gleam in her eyes.
“Do not hit on my friends. I’m positive that you already have some bombshell socialite eager to drop her panties for you.”
Despite his player reputation, Sebastian was a great guy and we’d become good friends. In fact, Sebastian often called to chat about life or he’d ask me for an opinion, sometimes he’d seek advice on a business matter. Our relationship thrived on humor and a mutual respect.
“Oh come now, Tinley,” she mused. “You know how I love to play with shiny new toys.”
Sebastian’s dark brows rose, as his gaze continued to roam over Karina. If I knew Sebastian, he was contemplating all the ways he’d get her out of the strapless, red, Ralph Lauren gown she was wearing.
I squared my shoulders. “Now, unless you’re here to hand me a check, you can be on your merry way, Sebastian.”
“Ah, there’s the Tinley I know, the girl only after my money.” He raised his glass taking a long drink.
I laughed. “If you weren’t so damn bad at cards, you might still have some of that hard-earned money.”
“Well, it’s all gone to a worthy cause, so I’m fine with you bleeding me dry.” Sebastian reached inside his breast pocket pulling out a piece of paper. “Here’s a bit more of my money.”
I plucked the check from his grasp. “Thank you, always a pleasure doing business with you.”
He smirked, glancing at Karina. “Trust me the pleasure is all mine.”
“Thanks again,” I repeated, waving the check in the air.
“Invest it wisely,” he instructed, offering Karina his arm. She paused for a beat, and then downed her martini.
“Shiny indeed,” she said, looping her arm with his.
After they left, I handed the check to Greta. It was getting late, and Matthew still hadn’t arrived. As I sipped my champagne, I wondered what could be keeping him. My gut twisted at the thought of something horrible. Fuck. I hated when my mind retreated to the worst possible dark places. He probably got held up at work.
Nothing is wrong.
I dragged my focus back to the room filled with people dancing and drinking. With the heavy flow of alcohol amongst the rich and powerful, I was certain there were business deals being made left and right. It was time to work the room for more donations.
“Hey,” Holliday said, gripping my elbow. “Ronan and I have to leave.”
I grasped her forearms. “Oh no, why?”
Ronan appeared at her side. “My daughter, Leah, she’s come down with something and my ex-wife is in London.” He tapped the screen on his phone. “Come on, Ella, pick up.”
“Ronan, your sister didn’t fly here to babysit,” Holliday teased. “She’s probably out having a good time and meeting new people.”
“So this is where you’re all hiding out—near the bar.”
My whole body heated at the sound of Matthew’s voice. Fuck, he was good looking. Wearing a three piece, black, pin-striped suit sans tie, his hazel eyes beamed even under the dim lights.
“Nice of you to grace us with your presence,” Ronan joked.
“I apologize,” he said, glancing at me. “That damn . . . Ronan walk me to the bar. I could use a drink.”
They walked off leaving me alone with Holliday. She eyed me up and down.
I shrugged. “What?”
“How long have you been sleeping with him?” she asked.
“I’m not sleeping with him.”
Her dark brows rose, and her lips pulled into a knowing smile. “Not yet, anyway.”
Truth be told, the last person I slept with was a guy that worked at Uncle Carter’s energy firm. It felt like a million years ago.
Was I that transparent where Matthew was concerned? This man did strange things to me. In the six months that I’d known him, we’d had a few interactions and I’d enjoyed all of them. Getting to know him was an extraordinary slow burn that gave me those butterflies that made my stomach zing.
“At least one of us is having sex,” I joked.
“I won’t be having any tonight, though.” She held up her cellphone. “We need to get going, I’m sorry to cut out on you on your big night. I have a feeling this event was a huge success.”
I totally understood. They couldn’t help it if Ronan’s daughter was ill. We said our goodbyes, and then I watched her and Ronan exit the ballroom.
The gentle melody of a piano piped over the sound system as Sam Smith’s voice sang out the lyrics to “Stay with Me.”
“Dance with me,” Matthew whispered in my ear.
Saying nothing, I took his hand as he pulled me to the dancefloor. One strong hand curled around my hip, drawing me closer to his hard body. I brought my hand to the back of his neck and his cheek rested in my hair.
“You look incredible tonight,” he murmured, his mouth brushing against the shell of my ear. “This sparkling pink dress, it’s giving me too many inappropriate thoughts.”
That voice, his voice, was in my ear, right there winding its way through every cell in my body. When he spoke again, tingles danced across my skin. “Tell me you want me as much as I want you.”
Completely overwhelmed by his sensual words and the desire I felt for him, I captured Matthew’s lips with mine. There was no hesitation. This was an all-in, jumping into the deep end kind of kiss. I kissed him the way I’d been wanting to for months. I swore that my soul hummed—finally.
“We should get out of here,” I whispered, our mouths a breath apart.
“Yeah,” Matthew agreed, his hand digging into my hip and further communicating his need for me. “Unless, of course, you’re the kind of woman who likes being bent over in a bathroom stall.” The ridge of his erection connected with my stomach, inches from where I needed it most and I wished that I’d opted for a shorter hemline. For a moment I considered allowing him to fuck me right here.
Right now.
Instead I laughed, tapping my fist to his chest. “I don’t know if I’m that kind of woman, but I know that tonight I’m the gal asking the guy to come home with her.”
Bold—a woman on top kind of move, something Beyoncé would have done. My hands moved to grasp the lapels of his jacket.
I want this man.
“Tonight, I’ll be the gentleman who goes home with the lady.” His lips mapped over the curve of my jaw, and down my neck leaving a fevered trail of hot fire in his wake. “I’m going to fuck you, Tinley, make no mistake about that.”
Months . . . years of fantasizing about Matthew Barber did nothing to prepare me for those words and the feel of his lips against mine.
As much as I wanted to leave the event right then and there I needed to make sure that things were in order before I attempted to cut and run. After a chat with Greta, and a conversation regarding final instructions, I handed over the reins. Once I’d said goodbye and thanked the staff, I gathered my belongings. Matthew’s hand settled on the small of my back as we stood outside waiting for my driver.
Twenty minutes later, we arrived at my house. My driver dropped us off, and as soon as the door closed, Matthew walked me backwards until I leaned against the white column on my front porch.
Dipping his head, my hands wrapped around his neck as his lips connected with mine. His kisses were urgent, and nothing I’d ever experienced compared to the taste of Matthew and the smoky flavor of bourbon on his tongue, it made me dizzy with need. The sweet scent of hydrangeas wafted through the night air, searing this moment into my brain.
His hands skimmed over my shoulders and pushed into my hair. Touching him, kissing him, zapped everything in my body to life. Firing up every nerve, cell, and synapses in between. I wanted him in every way possible.
“You’re going to wreck me, Matthew Barber,” I breathed, as my fingers drifted down the side of his face, and I twisted away from him.
“The only thing I plan on wrecking, darlin’, is your bed.”