Shana
Standing at the row of sinks, I’m caught off guard by my reflection. While that image has been all kinds of crazy today—from lead in lingerie to model and back to friend—the reflection I’m currently seeing is my favorite. I tilt my head one way and the other. After only a few minutes with Trevor, my lips are pink and cheeks flushed. Even my neck is a light shade of red from the abrasiveness of his beard.
Closing my eyes, my chest heaves as I remember the possessiveness in his kiss and the determination in his stare as he asked about Stephen. Maybe it wasn’t nice to not answer him right away, but the energy in his demand lit a spark that I didn’t want to let die.
With the way I’m reeling, it’s burning strong and bright.
I grip the edge of the sink, recalling his woodsy scent and the taste of good beer. That’s what Trevor Willis is to me, the sexy aroma of spice and outdoors and the taste of craft beer, an intoxicating combination.
I could lie to myself and say that this unquenchable twisting deep inside me is from the martinis, but I know the truth. It’s him. It’s been him since the first night we met.
My world was sent out of kilter. For nearly the last year, I’ve tried to deny it. But the truth won’t let me go. From his reaction, he’s as captive as I am. While being held hostage by an undeniable attraction sounds somewhat frightening, I love every minute of it.
As I make my way back to my friends, I see Trevor and stifle a giggle as I contemplate our plan.
Will it be possible to keep this secret for a little while longer?
It’s then that I remember that none of this is a secret to Stephen, only to my other best friend, Kimbra. My gaze narrows, as if it zeroing in my vision will help me hear their conversation. I love Stephen, but keeping secrets isn’t his forte.
What if he’s already spilled the beans?
I can’t hear them over the music and other patrons.
With Trevor standing, Kimbra and Stephen have our barstools. It’s as I approach that Stephen stands. I try to stay focused on my two best friends, but out of the corner of my eye, I catch the way Trevor’s gaze turns sultry. The simple change in expression makes my chest tighten.
Oh shit!
This is going to be harder than I thought.
“What happened to your lips?” Stephen whispers in my ear as I move to sit on the stool he vacated.
My fingers come up to my mouth to assess what he means. “Umm, I think it’s an allergic reaction to the lipstick they used today at the show.”
“Oh my goodness,” Kimbra breaks in. “Stephen was just telling us about the fashion show. Here.” She hands me my martini. “The coolness will help your lips.” She looks closer. “They don’t look too bad.”
Trevor also takes a drink of his beer, the glass barely hiding his amusement at my feigned allergic reaction.
Kimbra’s voice grows louder. “Why in the world didn’t you call me?”
“Would you have gone onstage for me?”
Kimbra laughs. “No. I would have been cheering.” She turns and punches Trevor’s arm nearly spilling his beer. “And you were there? Did you scream for her?”
“First, her name wasn’t announced though she did have my attention. Besides, it wasn’t exactly a striptease. It’s not as if we were shouting catcalls.”
“However...” Stephen asks suggestively. “If you could?”
Trevor smiles as his hand comes to rest on the back of my chair. “If it were appropriate, I so would have. Shana looked beautiful up there in that white negligee.”
“Listen to you,” Kimbra says, with a smile. “If Stephen hadn’t just told us what she was wearing, I’d think you were smitten.” Her mouth quirks for a moment. “Did you just say they didn’t announce her name?”
“I’m a man. I notice beautiful women.”
“Hmm,” Kimbra hums. “Mr. Single-for-Life.”
“It’s a Willis thing,” Trevor replies.
“Oh no,” Kimbra responds. “No more generalizations. Your brother is cured.”
“So there is a cure?” I ask, forcing my most innocent smile.
“Oh, ladies,” Stephen interjects. “There is always a cure. And I personally believe I’m surrounded by two of the loveliest cures I’ve ever seen.” He turns to Trevor. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
My cheeks heat as I take another sip of martini.
It’s everything I can do to maintain the conversation with the way Trevor is secretly drawing circles on my shoulder, running his hand through my hair, and teasing the place on my neck where earlier his lips made me shiver.
I want nothing more than to turn toward him and wrap my arms around his neck. But I can’t because through it all, Stephen is dropping hints the size of grenades while Kimbra is chatting about everything, blissfully unaware.
“...we should have you all to dinner before you leave for London,” Kimbra says. “You too, Trevor. This is fun.”
“London is still up in the air,” I say. “I mean, of course, if we get the job here we’ll still need to go back to pack.”
“Apartment in the East Village,” Stephen says softly as he lowers his empty glass to the bar. “Next round is on you, boss lady.” And with that, he steps away.
“What is he talking about?” Kimbra asks.
I shake my head. “It’s not as if there isn’t enough pressure, but Stephen put a deposit down on an apartment in the East Village for when we move back to New York.”
“Is it that certain?”
I shake my head. “It’s less certain after my little stunt today of going onstage. Even though I stepped in to save the show and showcase all the lingerie, the woman who would be my superior wasn’t thrilled.”
“Why?” Trevor asks. “I was there. It went off without a flaw.”
“The sales are good, but the point of a fashion show is to showcase fashions. When the show is over, the fashions should be the headline, not pondering about the loss of one model and questions about her replacement.”
“I don’t know how you do it. Dealing in HR is enough for me,” Kimbra says.
“Well, you seem to have an in with your boss, too. That doesn’t hurt,” Trevor says with a grin.
Kimbra shrugs. “Speaking of which—”
Before she can finish I hear a voice I never expected, one thick with a British accent.
“Willis, we’re next in the pool-table queue. You’re about up.”
“Max?” I say, turning his direction. Stunned doesn’t begin to describe my reaction.
“Shana?”
The good vibes I’ve been feeling since entering the bar disappear in a puff of smoke as Max Cantel’s beady, cheating stare comes my way.
“You two know each other...?”
Trevor’s comment goes unheard as I step from the barstool, all five-foot-six inches of me, poised and ready to fight. “Get the hell away from here before Stephen sees you.”
“He’s here?” Max asks, sounding less angry than I would have expected.
“Get out. How dare you track him down—”
“What are—” Trevor tries again to speak.
“Get the hell away.” I frantically look to my left and right, wondering where Stephen went before turning to Trevor. “You know this man?”
“Yes, we’re friends—”
Max reaches for me, but I pull away. “Shana, listen to me. There’s been some misunderstanding. I haven’t been able to reach Stephen for nearly a month. I’ve left messages and emails. I’ve even sent a courier.”
My finger pokes his direction, getting closer and closer to hitting his chest with each word. “Keep your lame-ass excuses to yourself.”
It’s then that I feel another hand on my back. “I need to leave,” Stephen says.
I hear the anguish in his voice.
“Stephen,” Max asks, “what the hell happened?”
When I turn, Stephen’s back is as straight as a rod as he turns to Kimbra. “It was very nice to meet you. It seems I need to leave.”
“Umm,” she says, “I don’t know what’s happening.”
I look from Kimbra to Trevor; both of their expressions are filled with question. “I need to go too. Call me.” I stand taller. “Kimbra.”
And with that I turn toward the door, my hand in the small of Stephen’s back as I navigate our way through the crowded bar.
“Sorry, boss lady,” he says as we step onto the sidewalk. It is then that my phone buzzes as his body trembles beneath my grasp.
“Let’s get back to the hotel.”
“Wine?”
“Copious amounts of wine.”
Once we’re in the taxi, I pull my phone from my purse, but before checking the screen, Stephen turns my way, his eyes glassy with pent-up emotion.
“Do you know something else I love in New York?” he asks.
“You mean, besides me?”
He nods. “Yes, besides you.” When I don’t answer, he does. “Pizza.”
“Oh my God, I was just thinking the same thing earlier tonight.”
I tap on the partition separating us from the driver.
Pulling the cell phone from his ear, the driver asks, “Yes, lady?”
“Stop at Underground Pizza on Hanover before going to our hotel.”
“No good, miss. There will be no parking or standing in that area.”
Stephen lets out a long breath. “Then drive me in circles until she has our pizza.”
“Whatever you want. The meter’s running.”
I grin when I see Stephen smile.
“I’ll cover the meter, you get the pizza,” he says just before laying his head on my shoulder.
“Deal.”
He looks up. “You really are my best friend. I don’t know what’s going to happen with this promotion, but whatever it is, I’m glad to be here with you.”
I reach up and pull his head back to my shoulder. “This has been a crazy-ass night.”
“Are you going to check your texts? Your phone’s been buzzing since we left the bar.”
I sigh as I swipe my screen. Three missed text messages.
“Two from Trevor and one from Kimbra.”
“Crazy-ass night,” he says.
“You can say that again.”