Jack
Jack waited a minute, but Wayde didn’t make an appearance. There were a few people mulling about on the landing, which branched off into several different hallways and a large staircase to the right.
Jack stepped away, towards the railing. He inhaled sharply, thankful to be away from everyone, just for a few minutes. Why the fuck did I even come to this thing? Oh right. Because I actually thought it might be good for me. Silence. It never used to bother him. An empty house wasn’t as bad as predictability. He’d come as much to throw people off as to avoid another night spent alone.
Unfortunately, changing things up seemed to give people exactly what they wanted. Women always had been drawn to him like a damn magnet. Most of the time he ignored the attention. It always made him uncomfortable, being the focus of things.
He spotted a blonde, Emma, he thought, also from accounting. She raised a brow and glanced his way. It was obvious, from the look in her eyes, what she wanted and it didn’t involve going home alone. Everyone knew Emma was single. Everyone knew she had a damn thing for him. Well, him and half the other guys in the office.
Jack ducked his head and all but fled down the stairs. He’d been at the party for a few hours. Enough to have put in his token appearance, so he could get the hell out of there. His black shoes skimmed over the steps in his hurry. He’d worn a damn suit again, though he hated them. They were confining and rigid. He wished that he’d opted for jeans and a leather jacket. What would it have hurt to scandalize a few people?
No. He knew the rules. He knew what it took to remain invisible, to blend in. He never did anything that might draw attention to himself. Monday to Friday he wore damn suits and slacks and prickly dress shirts. He drove a non-descript, domestic sedan, a few years old. He lived in a regular house, a bungalow that hadn’t been remodeled since the nineties. That was the image he put out there. Just a regular guy. Like any other guy.
He was so focused on making an escape through the lobby that he wasn’t paying attention and nearly ran down the woman who was in front of him. He dipped right as his attention refocused, in an effort to avert disaster. His shoulder brushed hers. Too hard. She stumbled and he automatically threw out a hand to catch her.
His fingers curled around warm skin and a set of huge green eyes, green with brown flecks that caught the light of the chandelier overhead and sparkled. They were hazy, those eyes, unfocused, even when the woman blinked hard a few times.
He glanced down to where his hand remained on her arm, hanging on a fraction too long. He dropped it away quickly, back to his side. Something silver glinted in her other hand. A set of keys.
She was the one who was drunk. Obviously drunk. She had that dazed look and easy smile of someone with zero inhibitions. She smiled at him and raised the keys and he felt, strangely enough, like he was the one who had too many, though he’d drunk only two shorts of whiskey the entire night. He wasn’t even buzzed.
Why then, did his eyes keep falling back to her lips? They were full and a nice pink coral, a natural hue, since any lipstick or lip gloss she might have had on was long gone. He was dimly aware of the dress, a flowing red garment that was cut too low in front and far too low in the back. It wasn’t elegant or classy. It was far more bohemian, as was the long hair that trailed in unruly waves over her dainty shoulders and down her back. The dress had a slit that revealed one long leg and a whole lot of creamy skin.
Unfortunately Wayde’s words echoed through his mind and he berated himself for even noticing those legs. The woman with no name was obviously the one Wayde had been talking about.
“Are you leaving?” Jack found himself asking. He wasn’t sure why and his voice sounded rusty with disuse.
The brunette nodded. “Yes.” She held up her keys and flashed him a grin.
“The party wasn’t as entertaining as you thought?”
Her eyes swept over him and a wave of hard heat hit him right in the gut. And… in lower places, if he was willing to admit it. His cock jumped to life, flying at half mast, though hopefully not noticeable in his damn pants.
“I wasn’t expecting much. At least the drinks were good.” She giggled, high and sweet, though it was clearly alcohol induced.
Jack had the feeling she wouldn’t talk to him at any other time. She looked like a good girl. One of those stuck up, real trust fund girls, from a good family. Girls who were smart enough not be swayed by animal good looks and a charming smile.
Although, driving drunk was definitely not sexy and it sure as hell wasn’t smart. He eyed the keys clutched tightly in her fist. “Did you drive?”
The woman grinned up at him. She giggled again and rolled her eyes. “Of course not.”
The problem was, he didn’t believe her. Jack was used to seeing straight through people. He was no damn hero, that was for sure, but he wasn’t going to let her take to the streets and risk killing herself or others.
“I’ll call you a cab.” He slid his phone out of his back pocket. “What area do you live in?”
“Parkridge.”
He froze. No way. No damn way. “What a coincidence,” he said thickly. His eyes focused on the woman’s face, on her dainty jawline, her alabaster skin, the high cheekbones, her gorgeous eyes, but mostly on those full lips. He closed his eyes briefly and imagined what those lips would feel like wrapped around the base of his cock. It’s been a long damn time. Too fucking long. She’s not my type. “You work here?”
The woman’s eyes narrowed, like she was trying to focus through her swimming head. “No,” she finally said. “I mean, uh- no. Technically no. Not right now.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “You’re here by yourself then.”
She shook her head. “Is it that obvious that I’m pathetically single?”
Jack’s chest tightened. Something hard and feral leached into his bloodstream. It had been a long time. Over a year. No matter how he tried to justify coming to the fucking party, that he was changing it up, doing the opposite of what everyone expected, he had to admit that he was lonely. Lonely enough that he’d made the mistake of thinking the damn office party would help. Lonely enough to stoop to new pathetically low levels.
“What a coincidence,” he said again, voice like gravel. “I live in Maple Grove. I’ll get us a cab and I can drop you off along the way.”
“Really?”
Only because I don’t want to see you get killed. He dreaded reading the headlines in the morning that reported a drunk driving accident and a pedestrian related death.
He smoothly reached over and grabbed the brunette’s keys. He tucked them into his jacket pocket, regardless of her protests. He stepped to the right, fending off her attempts to reach them as he brought his phone to his ear to call for a cab.
As luck would have it, one pulled up to the glass doors. Jack didn’t bother waiting. He gripped the brunette’s arm and tugged her forward. She let out a startled gasp, but didn’t pull her arm away. By the time they were through the double doors, she’d relaxed enough into his grip. She was trusting. Far too trusting.
He wanted to do one good deed. One. Just one. He just hoped he could trust himself enough to drop her off at her house and continue on his way. Only a real bastard would bypass her neighborhood and continue to his. Only a real bastard, but then again, despite the fact that he looked the part, Jack had never been a good guy.