CHAPTER 13
“Well, hello. I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.” James’s honey-smooth voice cracks with delight. His reaction alone brings sunshine to my face. It can’t be helped.
“Every woman in the office is jealous over these flowers. They’re magnificent. Thank you.” I trace the outline of the numbers on the phone with my index finger.
“They’re not jealous of the flowers; they’re jealous of you. You’re magnificent.”
My cheeks flame from his compliment, and I inch closer to the telephone’s base. James makes conversation easy. Too easy. He’s honest and straightforward. It’s a far cry from Evan, who complicates the smallest things. None of his actions match his words. He’s confusing at a minimum. Frustrating at his worst.
“You’re not making what I have to say easier, you know?” My toes tense and I lift my heels from the floor.
“Damn, is today still not my day?” he teases.
“I’m afraid not.” My teeth snag my bottom lip. I wish I had it in me to agree.
“Maybe another time.” He accepts this rejection again and with class. Maybe it’s because of the waver of uncertainty in my voice or the fact that he’s just a nice guy. I’m thankful for whatever the reason.
“I’m standing by my original answer.”
“In that case, I’ll make it my goal to dazzle you until you can’t say no.” My lips crack into a smile. It sounds like he’ll enjoy the challenge, and with the unexpected twirl in my stomach, I can’t say I won’t like the attention.
“Have a nice day, James.”
“You too, Cait.”
The line clicks, ending the call. I drop the headset on the base. When I remove my hand, it’s cramped from clenching the phone too tight. I lean back in my chair and spin, watching the ceiling turn. I think I’m giddy for the unbelievable fact that someone likes me. Me! And he’s nice, handsome, and normal. It’s not from the person I want, but it’s nice to be appreciated in a romantic way.
***
After work I climb the stairs to my apartment as I flip through junk mail. At hearing heavy breathing, floorboards cracking, and garbled laughter, I pause outside Mrs. Venti’s apartment.
Reversing my step and rolling back on my heel, I peer through her open door. She and an older man wearing a fuzzy brown robe are standing in the middle of her living room. Both have VR glasses strapped to their faces. They’re whooping, jumping, and clawing at the air in the general direction of the largest flat-screen TV I’ve ever seen.
I place a hand over my mouth to staunch a giggle when they spaghetti-arm the air and swing their hips. Just as Mrs. Venti begins to remove her glasses, I scurry on, not wanting to get caught spying.
When I reach my apartment, I’ve pushed the unexpected scene out of my mind for another distraction. My door’s open. Again. Evan must be here, finally fixing the shower. As I think it, a repetitious banging noise flows into the hallway.
I step inside the living room and abandon my bag on the couch before rushing to the nearest mirror. With a few quick swipes of my fingers, I control the tangles in my hair. I apply lipgloss, pinch my cheeks until they’re pink, and adjust my boobs higher in my bra beneath my sweater, though I see little change in the effort. Before I step away I give myself a once-over.
Tonight I plan to enact a scheme that’s been formulating since the night we kissed, but also the scheme my whispers have been laughing at. The one they insist will never win me Evan’s attention. Regardless of what they say, by the time I’m done with him, I want him begging to take back his rejection.
I pivot with determination for round whatever-number-we’re-on-now but only make it a few steps before stumbling over the corner of the area rug. I’m airborne and in slow motion before I can stop myself. Arms fly forward. Fingers spread for impact. My mouth opens and I squeal. Palms and bent knees break my fall, but I still face-plant with a loud thwack!
The clanking from the bathroom halts.
I wince, laid out flat, nose pressed into the carpet, knees sore from a rug burn, and grit my teeth from the pain. I roll over on my back but remain there for a few moments, allowing the aches to pass before lifting myself upright. Evan begins working again, and I sigh with relief.
Crisis averted.
This hiccup has me shaking out my hands and pacing to kill my extra energy. Perhaps it’s best to play it cool like I did the other night? Continue with the friends route?
Clearly the opportunity to be around Evan sends me into a panic mode. The more I allow my thoughts to run wild, the more I’m certain our flirty run was a fluke. Dumb luck on my part rather than a plan I should build on.
No. I shake my head, needing to fight my negativity and stay on course. Looking back, I’ve realized since the first day we met, he’s flirted, teased, and thrown his cocky attitude around, just enough to pluck at my nerves while toeing the line of friend and foe. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t maddening and exhilarating all at once.
I lift my chin, stand tall, and smooth out my skirt before heading down the hall with renewed determination. My heart’s beating erratically at the decision to play his game. To be aggressive, be flirty, and if possible, be sexy and desirable. If he can do those things to me, I can do them to him.
I feel alive. And nauseous. I focus on alive. My revived sense of confidence turns my indecisive steps into a strut. When I reach the door, Evan’s where I hoped he’d be, leaning over the tub fixing the hot water handle. Or he’s trying to.
“Took you long enough to show up.” I prop myself against the doorframe, knotting my arms. I’ve been showering Arctic-style for too long. Just thinking about it causes me to shiver and squeeze my arms tighter.
“I thought a few cold showers would do you some good after the other night.” He adjusts his attention to me with a grin, but his gaze falls from my face and lands on my heels. There his focus travels up my legs and catches at my hips and pauses. After leaving him questioning if I wear panties, I hoped he might want to find out the truth for himself, and it appears he does.
You’re going down, Evan Wade. I twist my lips.
I resist the urge to react to his jab and ask, “Almost done?”
“Just finishing up.” He returns to his work. From here the shower appears fixed, but when he reaches to turn the knob to test it, water violently sprays in all directions. It shoots across the room, and I jump back to avoid it. Evan leaps into the tub to fight the deluge, but all I can do at this point is laugh. Thank you, Karma!
After a few obscenities Evan scurries on hands and knees to cut off the water at the main valve under the sink. Drenched, he slumps back against the tub, eyes closed, appearing defeated.
This is when I take the chance to do something crazy. Something I would only do in a secret fantasy in my mind, but this time, I do it for real. It’s not part of the plan, but I go with it, regardless.
“Here.” With a shaky hand I offer him something to dry himself. I hold my breath as he takes it and rubs it in a circle around his face. When his eyes are clear, he looks down at his hands to inspect the fuzzy fabric.
“What’s this?”
I allow him to determine the answer on his own. When he does, the realization shows on his face. His mouth drops open and his head snaps to me. His darkening gaze settles on my lacy black bra, the new one I bought Sunday afternoon. I have no idea what gave me the idea, but I gave him the sweater off my back. So now I’m standing here in heels, a pencil skirt, and a lacy bra trying my best to look sexy.
Who knew I could be this brazen. Scratch that. This insane! To conceal the uncertainty of my runaway plan, I leave my expression unfazed.
“Do you even know what you’re doing?” he growls.
“Just a friend helping a friend.”
Though I’m half naked, all of a sudden I’m fearless at the challenge to make him want me. His mood clouds with lust. I can tell I’m affecting him on every level. He can’t hide from it any longer. He kicks off the floor and approaches. His soaked white T-shirt sticks to his golden skin, revealing his perfectly formed hard angles. Pecs. Six-pack. Biceps. Triceps—all the major muscle food groups are available in one sexy package, waiting to be unwrapped.
This image propels my bravery, or recklessness, for what I do next. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world, I slide one arm up the doorframe and settle my other hand on my hip, working my curves like a lingerie model. I bite my pouty berry-tinted lip.
He’s waging a conflict in his mind. It’s written in his flexing fingers. They’re clenched at his side. He seems to be contemplating whether he should reach out and touch me. Do it, I secretly beg. I want him to make the move. He needs to touch me first.
“What are you waiting for?” I purr.
“Is this what you want?” His hands move but not in my direction. They reach for the hem of his own soaked shirt. He flips it over his head, peeling the fabric from his body. Now he’s topless too.
My breathing halts, mouth parts, and gaze falls to his chest.
On another day I would shy away from this. On another day I wouldn’t be doing this. But today, right now, I’m too far into this charade to step back. I’ve created this character of myself that’s gutsy and assured, and now I have to play along until I succeed or I’ll look weak, and I refuse to appear weak.
His chestnut hair tussles in a perfect mess and his tanned skin glistens from the water explosion. Evan’s more beautiful than I could have imagined, but there’s a far bigger problem. My agenda’s faltering at the mere sight of him. I’m fighting the need to reach out and place my hand on his chest with my every rapid heartbeat.
He drops his soaked shirt to the floor and inches closer, like he’s daring me. He’s close enough to kiss but pauses in the danger zone where our bodies are parallel, inches apart. His hot breath swirls over my bare, chilled skin. Heat builds a wall between us. Evan’s taking everything so slow it’s turning me on even more. My nipples perk. My chest rises to meet his. He glances at them, seeming to notice the change, and smirks.
He’s onto me. He knows what I’m doing. He’s playing me like I’m playing him, and it’s working. When I can’t stand anymore, two words tumble out in a whisper, “Touch me.”
My lips tremble when he leans in on command. His breath stirs the hair near my ear, causing a loose strand to tickle my neck. I ease my head aside to quell the itch. He’s skimming my collarbone, the swell of my breast, and my neck. Wherever his gaze or breath touches, goosebumps plume across my skin, while the sensation of them plunges into my core.
And then he answers.