Avoiding Mr. Right (6 page)

Andy wasn’t at work today. I tossed and turned all night, trying to figure out what
I should do and how I should approach him, only to find the effort was all in vain.
I’m curious why he’s out of the office, but still uncertain on how to act. If I text
him, he’ll think I care and I’m not sure it’s a good idea to open that can of worms
again.

But you are starting to care, you idjit. The passion he stirred in you last night
was explosive.

I squirm in my chair, unable to deny how exciting our escapade in the storage room
was. Where did he learn to do that? Does he spank women all the time? Damn, it was
hot. Probably the wildest thing I’ve done in my life and I thought I was pretty damn
wild already.

Screwing lots of men doesn’t make you wild. It makes you easy.

Freakin’ hell. Is that what I’ve done? Slept with a lot of men with nothing to show
for it? No mind-blowing orgasms, no satisfied sleep, no fond memories of men I’d like
to encounter again? Damn, I really have made a mess of my life.

I’m grateful Heather agreed to dinner after work. I need someone sane to talk to.
I’m all over the place with what I want and I’ve never been so confused in my entire
life. Last night shocked the hell out of me. I loved it. Every exhilarating second
of it—but what does it mean?

Am I ready for more? Do I want something beyond casual sex? The dampness in my panties
seems to be screaming, “Yes, stupid bitch, you do.”

I pack up at the end of the day to meet Heather, giving a rueful glance toward Andy’s
cube. I wonder where he is.

“It sounds like a ‘unique’ experience to say the least,” Heather says, a sparkle of
knowledge glowing in her dark eyes. “And, dare I say it sounds like he wants more
from you than a one night stand.”

I glance down at my hands twisting in my lap. “But that’s the problem. I don’t know
if I want more.”

“Why not? Didn’t we talk about this the other day? At least giving him a shot takes
the ‘casual sex’ and ‘friends with benefits’ listings off the table.”

My frustration comes out in a huff. “Heather,
you
talked about your damn list the other day, I didn’t agree to anything. I like my
life the way it is. Uncomplicated and alone.
Alone
doesn’t always equate to
lonely,
you know.”

“I think thou dost protest too much, my lady.” At my deadpan expression, she shakes
her head and continues, “What the hell are you really running from, Carla? Have you
ever stopped to figure that out?”

Shock sets my skin to tingle. I’m not running from anything, am I? A flash back to
last Saturday with my mother snaps into my mind. A sigh escapes and I slump in the
chair. “The visit with my mom really sucked the life right out of me. She’s such an
unhappy person.”

“Whoa. Where did that come from?”

“What?” I ask.

“We were talking about you and Andy and then you jump subjects to your mom.”

“No, I didn’t. You said…” my voice trails off as I see the truth in her words. I did
leap from one topic to the next. Damn, I hate how the mind works behind the scenes
on crap we don’t want to face. Tears form in my eyes and I blink to rid them of the
extra moisture. “Ugh. I really hate talking about this shit.”

“Yeah, don’t we all. What kind of friend would I be if I let you get off the hook
that easily? You don’t talk about your mom very often. What happened Saturday?”

I shrug, and pick at the food on my plate. “Nothing much. She was her usual judgmental
self, putting down what I wear and how I live.”

“Ignore her. If I had a rack like yours I’d show it off, too. What else?”

“Really, it was nothing out of the ordinary for her. Next, she launched on her regular
man-hater campaign. Ending, of course, with her favorite diatribe on my father.”

A look of sorrow crosses my best friend’s face, exactly what I’d hoped to avoid and
why I don’t normally open up about my mother. “I’m so sorry, Carla.” She reaches across
the table for my hand and I resist the urge to pull away and reject her sympathy.
I don’t want her pity. I’m not my mom.

I must have mumbled part of that last thought because she says, “Of course you’re
not your mother—not all men are like your dad, either.”

A jolt spikes through my heart and I clench my hand on the table. Heather feels the
movement and looks at our joined hands. Is that why I’ve become content to be alone?
Because I secretly fear the man will walk out on me in the end? Unable to voice such
raw emotions, I attempt a smile. “Thanks, Heather. I know you’re right—but I also
know, I don’t know what I want.”

“The first step is to stop trying to control every interaction and just be yourself
for a change.”

I nod. I’m too afraid to speak and reveal more than I’d like. And what if I do as
Heather suggests and the man still walks out on me? The devastation almost killed
my mother. Would I survive such a loss any better?

Movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention. A familiar pair of shoulders
and bright blue shirt slides between people. Is that Andy? He wraps an arm around
the torso of the striking brunette at his side. He leans in to place a brief kiss
on her cheek, a soft smile curving his mouth.

Blood turns to ice in my veins as I watch the couple walk out. He gives her a big
hug and opens the door to her dusty sedan parked in front of the restaurant. He strolls
away as my lungs remember how to work and I suck in a sharp breath.

“What’s wrong?” Heather asks. “You’ve got the meanest look on your face.”

Cold settles over me as I lock down the growing interest I had in my heart for the
rat bastard. Guess what we had was just sex for him. I thought what we shared last
night was different. Did he spend the day in her bed when I refused to go back to
his place after the bar? Disappoint swells inside and I scrunch it down, refusing
to acknowledge the feeling. “Nothing.” I force a brittle smile onto my face. “Nothing
at all.”

By the time I get back to my apartment I’m numb. I can’t believe I almost let Heather
talk me into thinking this “thing” with Andy could be something more. I never would
have pegged the quiet unassuming man as the type to have multiple women on the line,
but then again, I also thought he’d be a boring lover, so what the hell do I know?

I can’t decide which hurts more, being right or wishing I was wrong.

My phone rings. I glance at the display, it’s my mom. “Crap.” Today is her actual
birthday and I forgot to call. Might as well get the painful conversation over with
as soon as possible.

I swipe the unlock on the tiny screen and click answer. “Happy Birthday, Mom.”

“Hmmph. Not so happy when
I
had to call
you
. Did you forget?”

“No, Mom,” I quickly lie. “I was working late and just got home.”

“I heard from your sister.”

“Good,” I try to steer the topic onto something brighter, which in this case is my
little sister. “How’s Julie doing? Did you see her this week?”

“No, she’s traveling with work. Said she’d come up this weekend. But she and her rich
boyfriend did send me a nice flower arrangement.” She snorts. “Julie never had any
taste so I’m guessing the hot-shot property developer picked them out.”

“That’s nice.” Geez, what is with this woman that every nice gesture is turned into
something bad with her retelling it?

“Want to place bets on how long their relationship lasts? I’m betting another month,
tops.”

“Mom! That’s pretty cold. She’s in love. Can’t you just let it go and be happy for
her?”

Another miserable grunt greets me over the line. “Love doesn’t last. You just wait
and see.”

The burning pain inside me at seeing Andy with that woman at the restaurant makes
me hold my tongue. I want desperately to argue with her, to make her see how negative
she’s being, but a big part of me fears she’s right, so I keep quiet. Thankfully I
only have to listen to her for a few more minutes and then we hang up.

Facing Andy at work tomorrow is not going to be easy. Wish I had some dumb stud in
bed to distract me. Maybe I’d even call in sick or take a mental health day and go
shopping. With inspiration hitting me, I call the guy I went to dinner with last night,
before
I saw Andy. Sure, he might have been a little boring, but he won’t break my heart.

“Hey, Brian. It’s Carla. Are you free for lunch tomorrow?”

“I’ve got back to back meetings. How about Monday?”

Resolve hardens my heart as I think of Andy and his other woman. “Sounds great. I’ll
see you then.”

Carla has alternated all day between avoiding me like the plague and staring at me
for minutes on end during two meetings. I swear the woman doesn’t know what the hell
she wants. She won’t talk to me, and according to Outlook, doesn’t open my emails
unless there are other people CC’d on them.

When she refused coming back to my place Wednesday, I shrugged it off. I could tell
by her reaction she’d never had an experience like the one I showed her and I thought
perhaps she was still feeling torn on what to do. Should she keep searching for the
man with the exciting career who
must
be wild in bed, or take a chance with the guy she only thinks of as a friend? And
then I took off on Thursday to see my mom. It’s like I came to work to a whole new
person.

It’s the end of the day and I’m going to push the envelope with her and see how she
responds. I need to get some type of reaction from her. “Afternoon, Carla.” I lean
against her cubicle wall, invading her personal workspace.

The young blonde jolts at her desk and her cheeks turn pink. “Hi.”

“What’s eating you?”

She harrumphs and returns her focus to the paperwork in front of her. “Nothing. Just
busy.” Carla’s cheeks flame red and I can’t tell if she’s embarrassed or angry by
what happened between us.

“Bullshit,” I say.

Her head whips up. “‘Bullshit?’ What the hell? You don’t know me.”

Shock tightens my stomach. Yup. She’s mad. I lower my voice and lean closer. “Really?
I bet I know a part of you no one else in the world knows.”

The red of her cheeks joins with the red creeping up her neck, definitely more embarrassed,
now. “Leave me alone, Andy. I have no intention of becoming another play thing for
you.”

“Another play thing? Is that what you think?”

She turns to me, a look of steely determination in her eye. “Yes. Now, leave me the
hell alone or I’ll tell your boss you’re flirting with me and I’d like it to stop.”

Heat burns in my chest. “You wouldn’t. That’s total BS. We have the beginnings of
something here.”

Ignoring my last comment, she says, “Try me.”

I turn away, deciding to regroup. No way in hell am I letting that parting threat
stand. But handling this at work is not the right thing to do, either.

Saturday morning, after a night of drinking alone and resisting the urge to call her,
I journey to Carla’s apartment. Unfortunately, she’s not home. If she had returned
any of my texts last night I might not have ventured over uninvited, but I couldn’t
let whatever distance is building between us to continue. She’ll push me out before
I get a second chance to prove myself.

She likes yoga, so maybe she’s getting an early morning workout. I grab a cup of coffee
from the bodega across the street, deciding to wait and see if she returns. Luck shines
on me within twenty minutes. Carla strolls up the street, dressed in yoga clothes
and looking more relaxed than she did yesterday. Good, this might be my only chance.

I wait five minutes and follow, wanting her to catch another elevator before me so
she’s inside her apartment. I have no desire for a confrontation in the lobby of her
building—that could seriously backfire if she’s still pissed.

I ring her bell. The sound of footsteps approach the door and I assume she’s looking
at me through the peephole. Silence ensues. “Carla? I know you’re in there. I can
hear you. Open up.”

Her outraged huff reaches me through the closed door a split second before she opens
it. “What do you want? Why the hell are you here?”

She steps back from the door slightly and I take it as an opportunity to let myself
in.

“Hey!” she exclaims. “That was rather rude.”

I whip around to face her as she closes the door. “And you think the way you treated
me at work yesterday was any better?”

“Oh, please.” She flounces past me and drops on the couch. “I’m sure you were working
your magic on someone else right after.” She stares into my eyes, a challenge in her
tone. “It’s not like what we did really mattered to you.”

“I don’t know where this crap is coming from. I miss a day at work and you’re a whole
different person.”

“Yeah, where were you on Thursday? Was some brown-haired woman warming your bed?”

Shock drives me forward to stand in front of her. Anger vibrates through every muscle
in my body. “Is that what this is all about? I take a day off and you immediately
jump to the wrong conclusion? And where would I have met this mystery woman? In the
bar, right after I pleasured you?”

“Did you? How the hell would I know? You probably have a little black book full of
women who want to do wild things with you.”

My anger dissolves when I see she’s more jealous and hurt than truly angry. “Is that
what you think?” I lower my voice and step closer. “You think what I shared with you
is something I do all the time?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know
you
. We had one mediocre night together,” I wince at her description, “and then you start
coming on super strong and sexy. It’s nerve wracking!”

I sit in the chair next to the couch, eager to reach out and take her hand, but worry
the timing is wrong. “You do know me, Carla. I’ve never been anyone but me at work
or anytime we’ve talked.”

Distrust flashes across her face. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

I’ll prove to her I’m not some nameless, faceless man she brings home. Six months
of working together… she’s got to know a little bit about me, right? I refuse to believe
she’s this selfish, spoiled brat she’s pretending to be at the moment. “Where is my
favorite place to order lunch?”

She snorts. “Oh that’s easy. Every time it’s your turn to pick for delivery you go
with Ray’s Pizza.” The humor leaves her face immediately. “That’s not really knowing
someone.”

“Name a movie I saw last month.”

She stares off toward her kitchen. “I don’t know what in the hell this proves. You
saw the latest action flick starring Bruce Willis, half the guys from the office went
with you.”

“Who organized this year’s fantasy football team in the office?”

“Ugh. You did. That was annoying as hell.”

“Do I own a car?”

Her face scrunches up. “No, I don’t think so.”

“What’s my favorite color?”

“How in the hell would I know?” Her head whips back toward me. “Give me a break.”

I run a hand through my hair, unwilling to give up. “Think, Carla. You’re not some
unobservant twit. You’ve chosen to be purposefully blind where I’m concerned, and
you should ask yourself why.” Her expression starts to shut down and I realize I may
have pushed her too hard. “What color do you see me wear the most?”

“Well…” she relaxes into the couch. “I do recall you wear a lot of bright blue ties.”

“Bingo. Because it’s my favorite color.”

Her eyelids drift lower and she fiddles with the tie on her yoga pants, “Yeah, well,
it does go great with your eyes.”

A huge smile breaks across my face. “See? Was that so hard? You do know a little about
me.”

She snaps to attention and straightens in her seat. “I still don’t know who you were
with on Thursday.”

“I spent the day with my sister, visiting our mom.”

Her face freezes. “You have a sister?”

“Yeah, a twin. Hair and eyes the same color as mine, almost as tall, big pain in the
ass…” My voice trails off as I watch the play of emotions cross her face. Understanding
seeps in. “Shit, did you see me with her on Thursday night and think she was my date?!?”
Horror and humor fill me in equal parts. “Date my sister? No way! Didn’t you notice
we look alike?”

Mortification flits across her expression. “Uh… now that you mention it, I guess you
did look a little alike.” I laugh and she cracks a smile. “You could have been one
of those good-looking couples who look like a matched set together. Hey! It was an
honest mistake.”

“So, you think I’m good-looking?”

A crafty look enters her eye. “Nah, it was totally your sister who made you look good.”

I laugh, the tension I’ve held the past day easing out of me. “All this could have
been avoided if you’d talked to me.”

“About what? We’re not an item. We haven’t even gone on a date.”

Determination fills my soul. “I’d like to change that. Give me another chance.” She
hesitates and I grab her hand, laying a soft kiss on her fingers while slowly running
my thumb across the back of her hand. “You like what I made you feel in the back room
of the bar, didn’t you?” She nods. “There’s a lot more in store for you… if you just
give us a chance.”

She glances at her watch. “Do I have to answer, right now? I need to shower and be
someplace in an hour.”

“Is it
Dress for Success
?”

She looks at me sharply. “How did you know?”

“Because I pay attention, Carla. You may pretend to be this prickly woman to keep
men at arm’s length, but you’re not all sharp edges. You have a depth to you. I’ve
seen it.”

“Well then, care to put your money where your mouth is? I’m helping to process donated
items today. It’s my least favorite job and I could use a hand.”

Hope swells when I realize this could be the first brick in taking down her emotional
wall. “You’re on. I’ll get us lunch while you shower.”