Jordan walked over to the bar where she could observe the energetic ambiance of the three-story dance club. Partygoers glowed on the dance floor as they moved with the red, green, and blue laser lights flickering across the room. She couldn’t believe Brandon had talked her into what he called “finding herself again.” Although, she knew her admitting she’d been to gay nightclubs in the past with Richie had gotten her into this mess—not to mention her love of a challenge, and one too many tequilas.
She’d already gotten five phone numbers within the hour from women who were either gay, straight, or curious. Women at parties always seemed to take a liking to her. She had an easy-going vibe that flowed through her when she drank, or maybe it was that she scowled at any men who approached her—except the one sauntering toward her with a huge grin on his face. He must have gotten yet another number.
She looked to the dance floor for the next gorgeous target, then challenged Brandon over the loud music. “I’ll buy you a shot if you can get her phone number. She’s in the white tube dress.”
“Patrón,” he said, already backing away. “Have it ready because this is only going to take a minute.”
He came back a moment later with a sad expression, and she gave him a victorious smile, but too soon, because he held up his phone screen.
“That’s impossible,” Jordan protested.
“I know. She likes girls, but I told her about my sexy friend by the bar who might be interested, and well, you kind of owe her a dance.” With a smug grin, he added, “Where’s my shot?”
“What? That doesn’t count!” she exclaimed.
“All I needed was to get the number, right?” Brandon laughed, raising his eyebrows as he knocked his shot glass against hers. “To numbers?”
“Fine,” Jordan agreed, taking the shot.
She cringed at the burn, realizing she’d lost count of the drinks she’d already consumed. But she’d been so comfortable with Brandon, she didn’t want to think about the consequences or anything else that should matter—like how spectacular he looked with his ruffled hair and green eyes. He wore a black shirt, cuffed at his elbow. Silver dog tags hung from his neck, and he had on the same Rolex watch he’d worn the night before in L.A.
The top buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a peek of the tanned and chiseled physique she now knew he had, as earlier at the beach, her eyes had strayed to check him out, and then it was all she could do. While he was sprawled out, looking like a Greek god, she’d also noticed his tattoos. Though not usually much of a tattoo fan, Brandon’s gave him a daring and sexy demeanor, and she’d only seen two—bold Chinese or Japanese letters across his inner forearm, and a red rose covering the underside of his wrist.
Brandon had superior taste, and she was impressed at how he presented himself. Everything he donned looked good on him. She bit her lip. Where was the bitterness she counted on to keep guys away, and why wasn’t it working with Brandon? She didn’t want to like him. He wasn’t good for her.
Brandon called over the bartender who’d been flirting with him all night, and Jordan looked the other way, controlling an eye roll at the bartender’s too friendly demeanor when Brandon ordered drinks.
“What is it this time?” Jordan asked. “I’m taking a break after this one. I’ve probably had way too much as it is.”
“What? Already? Such a lightweight.” Brandon smiled, his body and face so close it made her nervous.
He held her gaze for a moment and her breath caught. Remember, he can’t have you, she tried for self-preservation. Her body ignored the notion, and her nipples hardened against the fabric of her dress, tingling as they met resistance. She needed him to touch her. It didn’t matter where. She just needed to feel him. Am I the only one having these desires? Please touch me. His fingertips brushed against her arm, and she jolted.
Leaning in, he whispered in her ear, “What did I tell you about looking at me like that?”
Her heart thudded. “Tell me, how am I looking at you? Is it the way you’ve been looking at me?” she asked, allowing her lips to brush his ear when she moved back.
Clearly the alcohol in her system was taking lead. What was she thinking?
He hissed before warning, “Exactly that way. Now please stop. It’s hard enough keeping my hands to myself, and I promised.”
A man and woman approached, interrupting before more fuel could be added to the fire. Jordan let a slow and steady breath pass her lips as Brandon introduced his friends Adam and Rachael. Brandon took her hand and they followed the pair, cutting through the crowd to a VIP lounge area.
Two bottle-service personnel appeared at the table with a full bottle of vodka, but Jordan declined a drink, watching as Adam placed an arm around Rachael and kissed her cheek as he handed her a glass. Memories of her past relationship flooded her thoughts, leaving her repulsed instead of jubilant at the sight of love.
“I think I might have another drink.” She started to get up, and Brandon stopped her.
“I got you. Wait, have you already finished the one from the bar?”
Smiling, she held up the empty glass. Shaking his head in amusement, Brandon walked a few feet over to the center table where he added ice, cranberry juice, and vodka to a fresh glass.
After a while, Brandon led the way to the dance floor, but she stood off to the side in apprehension. She wasn’t used to dancing without Richie, Adrianna, or Sam. However, watching Brandon dance was entertainment in itself. Her eyes moved over the layout of the club, taking in three floors of dancers. When her eyes drifted back down, they landed on Brandon dancing with a pretty young brunette. It was crushing to see, but she was the one who’d backed out of dancing with him.
Finding herself back at the bar, a guy approached and started a conversation with her. She accepted his drink offer while at the same time hoping he would leave her alone. Sometime later, Brandon rescued her from another drunken guy hitting on her.
Looking at the drink in her hand, he teased, “I thought you were slowing down, beautiful.”
She smiled. “I did. I’m sticking to margaritas now.”
“I haven’t seen you dance even once,” he said, taking the glass from her hand and setting it on the bar before whisking her away.
“I can’t dance.”
“You’re lying to the wrong guy. We went to the same party last night, remember.”
Life of the party as he was, Brandon bent over and rubbed his butt against her. Somehow, he knew how to get to the fun girl she hid from others, because she should have been embarrassed, but instead, a wildness erupted inside of her. The sophisticated woman she’d trained herself to be for Todd took leave for the night. This second, she was nineteen again.
Glow sticks fell from the ceiling, and people screamed and jumped, throwing their hands up. Excitement moved through her as she caught one. The lights dimmed, and Brandon grabbed her hand, spun her around, leaned her into a dip, then pulled her up to his body. It happened so fast and unexpectedly, it took her breath away—that or the fact that his lips were inches from her own as his strong arms held her close.
With her chest pressing into his, she wondered if he could feel the impact of her heart as it pounded through the barriers, the fort she’d set in place to keep out everyone else. Their mouths drew closer, need and nerves sizzling as their breathing synced. Everyone else disappeared as the heat from his breath mingled with hers. It was more convenient for them to lean in for the kiss than to do the opposite, but to her dismay, he still moved away.
Rejection seized her, diminishing all happy thoughts as common sense sank in. He was a party boy and a womanizer. This lifestyle was normal for him. The magical moment that had just happened between them was something he experienced every weekend. And just as she knew he wasn’t right for her, he probably knew she wasn’t right for him either. That had to be why he’d rejected her, why he didn’t kiss her. Her head became weightless, and she swayed, grabbing onto him for support.
Oh no, too much alcohol. “I need to sit down.”
He held her hand and led her through the crowd to the rooftop lounge. As she inhaled the fresh night air, she started to feel like herself again, which meant she needed to drink more. She needed to numb everything that had been fine until he rejected her. Why did he reject her? Had Todd been right?
“Do you think I would stand and watch you waste your life away like this, Artesian? Dammit!” Todd yelled at her from outside the bathroom door she’d slammed, locking herself inside.
She sat on the edge of the tub and mumbled, “We need to break up.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? No one’s ever going to love you like I do. You know that.”
Silence.
“Baby come out, please. Let’s talk about this. You need me.”
“So you didn’t slow down on drinking then?” Brandon asked.
“I’m fine. I just needed some air.” She stood and pulled down the rising hem of her tight, glittering, navy blue dress.
Brandon eyed her. “Are you sure? I could take you back to the hotel if—”
“Come on, I’m not a baby. I just need another drink.” She smiled, knowing she was drunk but wanting to get past the point of caring.
They went back to the roped-off VIP section of the first floor where he made her another drink.
“Go have fun,” she told him. “You don’t have to stay here with me. I’m a big girl.”
“I brought you here. So tonight, and for the rest of the weekend, you’re my responsibility. And you don’t have a choice, so don’t argue.”
He got up to fix himself a drink and signaled for the bouncer to let a woman in. When Brandon hugged her, Jordan could see a familiarity between the two. The woman whispered something in his ear, causing him to shake his head and laugh. A moment later, when the woman handed her phone to the bouncer to have her picture taken with Brandon, Jordan’s dissipating walls started to reconstruct.
Brandon turned and locked eyes with Jordan, throwing off the rebuilding of her walls as he offered a dazzling smile. “Are you having a good time?” he asked, taking a seat beside her.
Nodding, she shifted, feeling hot and flustered as she sucked the cold, sweet drink through the straw. Did he even put any alcohol in here?
As he slid closer, his thigh touched hers. Stretching an arm around her shoulders, he whispered in her ear, “Close your legs.”
The heat from his breath sent chills through her body, lighting up the crest of her nipples once more. A quick pulsation between her thighs followed—more shocking than the fact that she’d carelessly had her legs open in public. She hadn’t wanted anyone in four years, and her walls were supposed to be back up after watching him interact with another woman, so why wasn’t it happening? Why did she still feel like a damn puddle at his feet?
Leaving his arm around her shoulders, he used his other hand to reach for her drink. “I think you’ve had enough, beautiful.”
She moved the cup out of his reach. “No.” And with a quick turn of her head, her forehead collided with his. She rubbed at the tender spot. “Ouch!”
Brandon studied her as she lifted her hand to touch his forehead.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Did I hurt you?”
He took her hand in his and said something she couldn’t quite decipher in her current state. “Not yet.”
Standing, Jordan steadied herself with the feet floating beneath her. Walking would be another conquest.
“Let’s go find your friends.” She managed to set her glass down on the table and straighten her dress, but then Brandon handed her a phone.
“You dropped this.”
After walking merely two feet, she dropped her phone again, and Brandon picked it up. Assuring him everything was good, she dropped the phone again less than three minutes later. This time he had to search for it, and with all the people standing around, she was sure it was quite an undertaking. She couldn’t even help him now; her vision had officially blurred. Things went downhill from there, leaving her to admit to him how utterly hammered she was, more than she’d been since freshman year of college. With that, Brandon helped her out of the club and into a car.
“Brandon, I’m sorry.” Jordan apologized as he leaned over to fasten her seatbelt.
“Don’t be. You did nothing wrong,” he soothed. “Now, before we move, do you feel like throwing up?”
She shook her head, and he closed her door. She fidgeted with the buckle he’d enclosed her in until he sat next to her in the backseat. “Can you unbuckle me?” she asked. “I don’t want this.”
“It’s for your—”
“Please.”
As soon as she was freed, she lay down, resting her head on his lap. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually drink like this. It’s like—I feel like my head is going to take off . . . like those hot air balloons . . .”
His palm rested on her head, gently brushing her hair back as he talked to the driver.
Jordan opened her eyes to see Brandon asleep on his stomach next to her, with one of his outstretched arms around her waist. To her surprise, she didn’t feel much of a hangover. She knew nothing could have happened between them—not that she remembered, but they both still had their clothes on from the night before.
She rolled out from underneath his arm to go freshen up in the bathroom, discovering a small bruise on the side of her knee in the process. She had no idea what had happened there.
She returned and saw how peaceful he was in sleep. Pushing away the weird urge to kiss him on his forehead, she resorted to watching the television in her room and ordering breakfast.
As she opened the door to the suite and let the server inside, Brandon walked out of the bedroom, running a hand through his hair.
“Good morning, sir. Madam,” he said, glancing at Jordan. “So I can tell from here that thing of orange juice has no champagne. Can you please bring us two mimosas from the bar, as well?”
“Not a problem, sir,” the server responded with a pleasant smile.
“Thank you.”
Brandon disappeared back into his room and joined her a few minutes later at the dining table, just as the server returned with their drinks.
“I’m surprised I don’t have a hangover,” she said, feeling content in her white T-shirt, shorts, and amber-framed glasses. Her eyes were not ready for contacts yet this morning.
“That’s because you’re still drunk,” Brandon said, sipping his mimosa.
“What? That’s ridiculous. No, I’m not.”
“Okay,” he said, cutting into his pancake, “but you should trust me and drink your mimosa. You don’t want anything more than a slow come-down from last night. I mean, you passed out at the end. You surprised me, though. Shit, I don’t even party like that anymore.”
She didn’t know what to feel. Embarrassment? Disappointment? Regret? Relief? All of the above? She lowered her gaze. “Did we . . .”
She felt his eyes burning into the top of her head. She didn’t have the confidence to look at him for the answer to a question she’d never before had to ask. Though for some reason she felt she could trust him.
“No,” Brandon answered after a moment.
Her next question was for herself—what in the world sparks the outrageous behavior I lean toward when I’m around him?
They lay around watching a movie for a while before heading down to the crowded beach. It was there that a headache started to make its appearance. He was right; she’d still been drunk this morning. But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of telling her she should have listened.
After a long boat ride with him and his friends, she got a beverage to calm her headache before they talked her into windsurfing. Then right before sunset, Brandon rented a jet ski. He drove so recklessly that she was flung into the water several times, but every splash was worth all the excitement and fun they were having together.
At nightfall, they got dressed and went out to dinner, where she asked about his tattoo. He told her it was written in Chinese and translated to Live Every Day. He said it was a not-so-subtle way of reminding himself about the importance of enjoying life. But even more intriguing was that he’d chosen Chinese because his great-grandfather was half Chinese.
The red rose tattoo at his wrist was something he didn’t care to talk about. A cold look surfaced to accompany his remark—“nothing”—and she knew never to ask about it again.
On the whole, Jordan couldn’t believe the weekend was going so well. Perhaps that was because they were doing it as friends, leaving out any expectation or pressure. He’d even stopped complimenting her, which she missed but would never admit.
Three hours later, and already tipsy, Jordan walked up to Brandon and hugged him as they were about to leave for his friend’s get-together.
“What was that for?” Brandon asked.
“This weekend.” She smiled. “I needed it.” Or you.
Only the more she needed him, the less he seemed to need her. He was constantly surrounded by women to pick and choose from, so he probably never felt alone. It’s likely she would always need him more than he needed her, even if they were just friends.
“You’re welcome. Now let’s hit this party. You need to work off some of the food you guzzled down at dinner,” Brandon teased, poking her belly.
“That’s so mean. I worked up an appetite after all that water activity today, thanks to you,” Jordan said, hitting him on the arm. “And don’t you ever call me fat.”
A wide grin wrinkled the corners of his eyes. “I didn’t say you were.”
A majority of the guests at his friend’s house were gathered in the living room, drinking and conversing. Brandon’s friends Adam and Rachael were also in attendance. Rachael had beautiful, curly, long black hair. Jordan found out later she was half Indian, right before Rachael informed her what a great guy Brandon was, which didn’t help with her wall reconstruction.
“And he likes you.” Rachael smiled.
Jordan laughed. “Brandon likes a lot of people.”
“Yeah, but the way he treats you, it’s different—not like him. I don’t know, with you he’s more . . . relaxed.” Rachael drank from the beer bottle in her hand.
“I’m sure it’s because we’re just friends,” Jordan said. “I’m going to go see what movie’s playing in the theater room. Do you want to come?”
“Sure, but . . . is it too personal to ask why you two aren’t dating?”
Jordan didn’t know how to answer. At first, it had been her who was holding back, but now it seemed the tables had turned. “I don’t know. I guess he doesn’t like me that much.”
Brandon walked up in time to overhear the last part of their conversation. “What guy are you two talking about? If you want my two cents, Jordan, if he doesn’t like you that much, he’s an idiot.”
He grinned at her, but her smile in return was forced. Playing mind games wasn’t something she wanted. She’d had enough of that from Todd. If anyone wanted her affection, they needed to be forthcoming. Brandon had given her mixed signals from the beginning.
Was she a part of his game? Was he hanging out with her as a “friend” with whom he hoped to gain sexual benefits? Was that why he’d brought her here? And if so, why had he stopped flirting with her, and when he’d had the opportunity to kiss her, why didn’t he? Had he changed his mind, or had he already grown tired of her?
All were the clear warning signs she knew she should heed, but instead they made her want to get closer. Still, with these mixed feelings, she knew she couldn’t tonight.
At lunchtime on Tuesday, back in L.A., Sam, Adrianna, and Jordan sat inside a bistro, drinking coffee and eating sandwiches. Feel-good music poured through the speakers but was dwarfed by the lunch-hour chatter circulating the room.
Jordan wore a sleeveless, white top tucked into a gray skirt and her favorite black pumps—almost matching Sam, who wore a skirt, tank top, and red stilettos.
“So what did you do this weekend after our outing Friday night?” Sam asked Jordan.
“Took the weekend off to relax. I think it was due time for that. I also went tanning,” Jordan said with some honesty. There was no way she could hide her sun-kissed skin. “But Friday was fun. We haven’t done that in a while.”
“Fun and coincidental,” Adrianna pointed out, raising her eyebrows.
“Yes, definitely coincidental.” Jordan smiled, hoping it would hide her burning cheeks.
“So, this Brandon guy. He seems really cool,” Sam added nonchalantly.
“Yeah, I suppose.” Jordan took a bite out of her sandwich.
“Why are you downplaying the two of you? Anyone who saw you together could see the sparks. You deserve to be happy, Jo. It’s time to move on,” Sam coaxed. “The only thing is, maybe with someone else. Brandon seems a little too famous with the ladies. But he’s so gorgeous, we’re giving you the green flag. You can use him to get back in the groove. Adrianna and I have already talked about this.”
Jordan choked. “What the hell? I’m not using a guy. What the heck would I do with him?”
“Sex him,” Adrianna taunted.
Jordan rolled her eyes. “There’s more to life.”
“Yes! Like great sex that’s so good you can’t even find the words to describe it.” Adrianna jerked her eyebrows. “I bet he’s good in bed.”
Jordan groaned.
“Not to change the topic,” Sam said, teasing, “And you’re welcome, Jo, I know how much you love being grilled about your love life. Anyway, I’ve been dating this guy.”
“We know,” Jordan and Adrianna responded in unison.
“What? How?” Sam asked.
“Because when you start dating someone, you go MIA. You’ve been doing this forever. Trust that your best friends pay attention,” Adrianna explained, silencing her vibrating phone on the table.
“Oh.” Sam smiled. “Guess I should have said something earlier. Anyway, we both thought it was nothing, but we talked last night and well, it’s definitely something.” She ran freshly manicured fingers through her hair.
“How long have you been seeing him?” Jordan asked.
Adrianna clasped her hands together. “And who is he?”
“One of my former client’s managers.” Sam bit her lip. “His name is Jay. He’s a sweetheart. I truly adore him. Really charming guy. It started with him calling and asking to meet up so we could discuss a new look a client of his wanted to try. Before that, we’d had a few lunches together where we talked more about other things than the job. Anyway, we’ve been dating for the past month and see each other, like, every day.” Sam took a deep breath and exhaled. “Last night we discussed marriage and kids, so don’t be surprised if that news comes next.”
“Wow, Sam!” Adrianna chuckled. “I hope it works out, and as long as you guys completely think it through, I’m all for it.”
“You know how badly I want to start a family. I’m done holding back.”
“That’s great, Sam. I’m so happy for you.” Jordan smiled, but a familiar sadness rose from deep within, that everyone-is-finding-love-but-me feeling. She hated that feeling.
Adrianna grinned at her phone. “We’re almost famous, guys. Holy crap, Brandon has a lot of friends. There’s, like, three thousand likes on these pics. When are you going to get on social media again, Jo? The craze is on. Brandon and his friends have been friend-requesting Sam and me all week, and they tagged us in their pictures.”
Jordan’s stomach dropped, hoping Brandon didn’t post any of the pictures from Miami. “What pictures?”
Adrianna turned her phone toward Jordan. “Don’t worry, you look like a total bombshell!”
It was a picture from Friday night in the VIP section after she and her friends had joined Brandon there. The picture had captured her laughing with Sam about something, and Brandon and Damian were laughing with Adrianna.
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Wow, it does look good.”
“Click to the right. There’s another one—one where everyone and I are dying to know what you two were whispering about.”
Brandon was seated next to Jordan, his torso pivoted to her and head leaned in as she whispered in his ear. Upon noticing one of her hands resting on his thigh, her gut tightened. His hand covered the hand she had on his thigh. It must have been when she was asking him what time they should leave for the airport, but the photographer had impeccable timing, making the moment seem more intimate than it really was.
However, she could see, through the photographer’s eyes, what Rachael might have been referring to. She and Brandon appeared so relaxed and in sync, like they’d known each other for years.