2.

 

Noelle

 

I hurry blindly through the front entrance of the museum, my heart pounding. All around me, there’s a chaos of lights and people, dressed up in masks and party clothes, but it’s all just a blur to me.

What just happened?

I spy the coat check room to my left and quickly slip inside. The attendant is talking to someone up front and doesn’t notice as I sneak deeper into the closet. Coats and scarves are packed on the rails, but I find a bench to sit on in the back, hidden in the folds of clothing.

I sink against the wall, breathless and dizzy. I can still feel the blazing imprint of the strange man’s lips, the way his hands gripped at my waist. It was incredible: one moment we were flirting over my trapped heel, and the next…?

My cheeks go hot, remembering the look that came into his dark eyes. Even through his mask, there was something so raw and intent in his gaze, like he couldn’t hold himself back a moment longer. He had to have me.

It was the sexiest moment of my life.

And totally, completely inappropriate. I try to pull myself together, imagining what my mother would say. What kind of man kisses a complete stranger in the middle of the street like that?

A damn gorgeous one.

And what kind of woman just kisses him back?

Me.

I shiver, my blood still singing with desire. From the moment he crossed the street towards me, I wanted him. It was something I couldn’t explain: the way his suit hung perfectly from his broad, muscular shoulders; how the dark cast mysterious shadows across his jaw. In that bandana, he looked like an old-fashioned highwayman, ready to steal me away on exotic adventures.

And when he touched me…

I was lucky he pulled away so soon, otherwise Lord knows what I would have done right there in the middle of traffic. The kind of things that would get me arrested and disbarred from the law in the state of New York, for sure.

And then, just as quickly as the heat took us over, it was gone; the desire in his eyes replaced with something almost like panic. Behind his mask, the shutters fell. Somehow, I knew, the moment was gone, like waking from a delicious dream to find your alarm blaring and the cold, harsh light of morning outside.

I sigh, glad for the dark folds of fabric surrounding me and the privacy of this hideaway. The sexy stranger may be long gone, but I can stay a little longer, suspended in blissful memories, pretending like reality isn’t waiting just outside the door—and my fourth blind date of the month.

That’s what I get for letting my friends and family fix me up—not that they give me a choice. Ever since I turned twenty-six, they’ve all started panicking that I’m still alone. Never mind that I’ve never had much time for dating in between college, and law school, and my fourteen-hour days at the law firm now. In a family of overachievers, I always feel like I’m lagging way behind.

My mom clips articles from her medical journals about how single people are more likely to die of a variety of cancers. Dad makes pointed comments about how I’ll need things fixed around the house, and even my older sister, Olivia, happily settled down with a family of her own out in San Francisco, sends me charts about declining fertility and freezing my eggs. It’s easier to just accept the parade of dates they schedule for me. After all, I tell myself, there’s always the possibility that one of these awkward blind dates will be the guy. But there’s a reason I’ve stayed single so long—besides being too exhausted after work to even think about doing anything besides collapse on my couch with takeout and Netflix.

I want more.

More passion, more spark. More feeling, of any kind. I want to be moved by someone, to lose track of time talking because I can’t wait to discover everything about him.

To hide away in a cloakroom because I want just a few more moments reliving our kiss…

Suddenly, the coats are yanked aside. The coat check girl stares at me in surprise. “What are you doing? Guests aren’t allowed back here.”

“Sorry!” I blurt, getting to my feet. “I was just… Bye!”

I exit the room, back out into the bustle of the main lobby. Now that my daze has cleared a little, I can look around and take in the scene. The museum looks beautiful, silk banners rippling from the balconies upstairs and old-fashioned torches lining the hallway leading into the main rooms. Tonight is a big charity function, a masquerade party to raise money for the children’s wing of hospital, and they’ve spared no expense creating a fairytale world.

“Noelle?”

I turn. For a split second, I wonder if it’s the man from the street, if somehow he’s found my name and followed me in. Then I see a square-jawed, blonde guy standing in the middle of the lobby, wearing an expensive pinstripe suit. “Hi, I’m Grant Westin.” He flashes a grin at me, all teeth. “I work with your father.”

My heart falls. It’s not him.

“Hi.” I recover, managing a smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Grant shakes my hand with a firm grip. “A pleasure to meet you too. Your father’s told me all about you. You’re an associate at Friedman and Lowe, right? Following in his footsteps. I’m sure he’s very proud.”

“He is—” I nod, but Grant doesn’t give me time to reply.

“I’ve been working with him for a year now,” he talks over me. “I was assigned to him on the Anderson case, but I’ve been following his career for some time. A formidable trial attorney, there’s nobody like him in the courtroom. Shall we?” He nods to the main hallway, offering me his arm.

I already want to turn and run from the building, but I know I need to at least try to be nice. I reluctantly take it.

“I’ve learned so much already, just watching him in action…” Grant leads me in, talking all the while about Dad and his amazing trial strategies.

I stifle a sigh, trying not to jump to conclusions. Maybe he’s just nervous and trying to make a good impression by praising my dad.

Grant swipes a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and takes a gulp. “…So I said to him, if we lean on the witness, that guy’s going to crumble like a little bitch. And sure enough, I broke him right there on the stand and locked the whole case up.”

Definitely not nervous.

I glance around the room, praying for a distraction. Then I catch sight of a familiar face across the room.

“Lexie!” I wave, relieved. “Over here!”

Grant breaks off his monologue as my best friend from work comes over, dragging her boyfriend Joel in her wake. “Hi, sweetie,” she says, kissing me on both cheeks. “Isn’t this a gorgeous event? Who’s your friend?”

“I’m—”

“Grant, Lexie, Joel,” I make the introductions quickly, then give Lexie a look. “Bathroom?”

Her eyes widen in realization. “Right! Excuse us, gentlemen,” she smiles, linking her arm through mine.

“I’ll be right back,” I tell Grant politely, then pull Lexie away from them as fast as my stiletto pumps will take me.

“Oh my God, you have to save me!” I exclaim, the moment we’re out of earshot.

“That bad?” Lexie winces. We round the corner to another cavernous hallway, our heels tapping on the marble floors as I find the bathroom and duck inside.

“Worse,” I tell her, exhaling in relief to be away from him. “He hasn’t quit talking about my father or their latest trial.”

“I’m sorry, babe.” She gives me a sympathetic hug, then goes to freshen up her lipstick. “But hey, at least he’s cute, right?”

“I guess…” I think instead of the stranger’s dark intensity—those burning midnight eyes and that thick dark hair. “He’s not really my type.”

Lexie arches an eyebrow at me in the mirror. “Since when do you have a type?”

Since about ten minutes ago.

I quickly change the subject. “What about you? I’m surprised they let you out with the case starting Monday.”

Lexie snorts. She’s a second-year associate like me, which means we spend our lives locked in the library, researching legal briefs for the partners upstairs. Unlike me, she loves every minute of it. “I have to go back in first thing in the morning. You too,” she adds. “Harper is demanding all hands on deck.”

I groan. “Is this what you imagined in law school?” I ask, looking at my reflection, and horrified to see shadows under my eyes. I scramble to find concealer in my tiny purse. “Spending all day and night in that building, eating lunch at our desks and for what? So some big corporation can find a loophole in their contracts?”

“It’s only for another few years,” Lexie reminds me, sounding upbeat. “Everyone kills themselves with work starting out. Only the fittest survive,” she beams at her reflection, “and to the victor, the corner office!”

“And a heart attack before they turn thirty-five,” I joke, trying to pin back my curls. But, as usual, they refuse to surrender.

“C’mon,” Lexie beckons from the door. “I promise I won’t abandon you to that stuffed shirt. Who knows? After a couple of glasses of champagne, maybe he’ll loosen up. Or you will,” she winks, and I can’t help but smile.

“Don’t bet on it,” I say, pulling a mask from my purse. It’s got feathers pluming out from the corners, a flash of bright pink I couldn’t resist. “But hey, behind this, he won’t even be able to tell when I’m rolling my eyes.” I slip it over my head, fastening the ribbons behind my head. I strike a pose.

Lexie laughs. “Gorgeous. Now, how long do you think we’ll make it before they call us back in to work?”

“Don’t!” I protest, following her out of the bathroom. “I’d be happy if I never saw another legal brief again!”

 

An hour later, I’ve changed my mind: I’d happily go into work right now. Anything to cut short this nightmare of a date. Grant has barely paused for breath, trapping me in a corner and regaling me with tales of trial victories.

“She was crying on the stand, talking about her kids, but I could tell it was all for show…”

I stare longingly over his shoulder at the main room. Lexie’s abandoned me for the dance floor, and everyone seems like they’re having an amazing time.

Be nice, the voice in my head urges me. Be polite, give him a chance.

Screw polite.

“Great story! I’m going to go get another drink,” I interrupt him. Grant pauses, thrown, but I don’t give him a chance to object. “Be right back!”

I give him a sunny smile and duck under his arm, breaking free for the middle of the room.

Escape!

I slip through the crowd, wanting to put as much distance between us as possible, but when I glance back to check on Grant, he’s already hitting on some poor waitress. Douche. I don’t know what my dad was thinking, setting us up. Does he really think I’d want to share my life with a man who boasts about getting desperate mothers locked up in jail?

Grant wouldn’t be the type of man to stop in the middle of the street to help anyone, place a steadying hand on their arm and ease their heel from the grate as if it was made of glass.

Not like my rescuer, the man with the mysterious smile.

I try to shake it off. I know I’ll never see him again, but I can’t forget that moment, suspended in the middle of all the city noise and rush. He looked at me with those dark, inscrutable eyes, and everything melted away. All my stress and exhaustion, all the long hours and frustrating work. In his arms, none of it mattered. I wasn’t frazzled or bored or restless anymore.

I felt alive.

I reach the bar and hop up on a stool. “Martini, please,” I tell the barman. “Extra olives.”

“I would never have guessed.” A voice comes from right next to me, the low, rich tone making every sense in my body come screaming back to life. “Not when you taste so sweet.”

My pulse kicks. I almost don’t want to turn, just in case I find another stuffed shirt acolyte of my father’s, some Wall Street guy playing a smooth line. But I recognize that voice…

Please be him. Please be him.

I look over, and my heart stops. It is him. The man from outside. He’s leaning against the bar beside me, sipping something that looks like scotch. The same dark eyes behind that black silk bandana, the same removed smile on his gorgeous lips.

He looks illegally handsome in that perfect black tux, and for a moment, I lose the power of speech. The bartender brings my drink, so I take a sip as I scramble to stay cool.

“How do you know we’ve met?” I tease. “These masks make life interesting.”

The man smirks. “I’d know those lips anywhere.”

He reaches over and brushes his thumb over my lower lip, holding my gaze as ripples of heat shiver through me.

Damn.

Just like that, I’m awake again. Awake, and full of rebellious energy. God, I’m so sick of boring dates and long work days, feeling numb and tired, wondering what’s the point of it all. For once, I want to stop pretending to be something I’m not.

I want to have some fun.

I take a gulp of my drink, then hop down from the stool. “You have perfect timing,” I tell him, holding out my hand. I step back towards the dance floor and beckon.

“Let’s dance.”