Better Than Safe (9 page)

“You’re exceptional. Better?”

“Rather,” he imitated me playfully. I turned quickly and tickled his side. He yelped in surprise and giggled like a child. The sound was sweet and endearing. I felt a rush of affection I didn’t understand as I rolled on top of him and kissed his full lips. He smiled then reached to pull my head down. His soft lips and hard body were a perfect contrast. I deepened the kiss, loving the whimpering noise he made. I pushed away and flopped back to my side of the bed.

“You didn’t answer. Where would you go?”

“Huh? Oh. The train.” He let out his breath in a rush and turned to look at me. “Same. Miami or California. Somewhere warm. I want clean air and a fresh start, you know?”

“Fresh start? What do you mean?”

He shrugged and stared up at the ceiling. “I want to lose myself in a new start. No worrying about things I can’t change or people who don’t or shouldn’t matter.” He turned on his side and gave me a smile that clearly said he wasn’t going to reveal any deep secrets. “What time do you have to leave in the morning?”

“Early.” I closed my eyes. If reality had to invade, I wanted to sleep through it.

“Hey Paul?” He waited for me to refocus on him before he continued. “I’m not good at this stuff but… when we’re back in DC, call me, okay?”

I smiled softly and nodded my acquiescence before leaning in to kiss him. Lying naked with a man who was practically a stranger in a hotel room wasn’t the time to make promises you might not keep in the light of day. But this one I would. The unexpectedly awful coffee date I wanted to erase from my memory had turned into something very… promising.

O
N
THE
train ride back to DC the following afternoon, I stared at my cell wondering how soon was too soon to contact Seth. It was Friday. Should I wait till Sunday or give in to impulse and—fuck it.
Heading home now. Call me this weekend. Paul.
I pushed Send. The text message was fairly tame, but I’d labored over it like I was rewriting the last bloody line of
War and Peace
. It was friendly but not overbearing. At least I thought so. I wouldn’t be offended if he didn’t call right away, but I hoped to hear from him by early next week. Actually, that was a lie. What I really wanted was for him to call me immediately and tell me he couldn’t stop thinking about last night either.

I had to laugh. Twenty-four hours ago the knowledge he was boarding the same train irritated me. I’d loathed the idea of making small talk with someone I didn’t care to see again in this lifetime. I’d thought he was self-absorbed and rude but now I couldn’t stop thinking about him. His smile, the arrogant mannerisms he tempered with humor and confidence. He was intelligent, gorgeous, and seemingly driven by his personal quest for artistic excellence. I longed to see his work and get a better glimpse into his beautiful mind. But more than anything, I wanted to be with him. Naked, writhing. Once wasn’t nearly enough.

I pocketed my phone with a sigh. He’d call when he could.

E
XCEPT
HE
DIDN
’
T
. The weekend passed in a boring blur. I stayed busy but I couldn’t say what I’d done exactly. I went to the gym, worked from my home office, and even stopped by one of my favorite jazz bars on M Street. It was pleasant, but it didn’t keep me from thinking about Seth. Or incessantly checking my phone.

By Sunday evening, I was thinking a text message wasn’t enough. A voice message would be better. More personal. And Monday around noon was the perfect time. I would call him when—my phone rang and startled me from my reverie. I scrambled to sit up and answered it without looking at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Hey, I heard you were back in town. Were you planning on calling me or were you going to let Aaron tell me all about your trip?”

“Um….”

A familiar voice chuckled on the other end of the line. “It’s Curt. Remember me?”

I smiled at his put-upon tone. “Don’t be daft. I’ve had a whirlwind couple of weeks trying to get back to some state of normal. I’m not certain I’m there yet. How are you? How is your sexy boyfriend? I would have called you first but I was afraid he might think I was out of line and kick my arse. I thought I should get my footing on American soil before I chanced it.”

Curt chuckled. “You’re safe. Jack knows we’re just friends.”

“You’re sure? The last time I showed up at his bar he looked like he was tempted to throw me to the curb. Literally.” The inside joke was one I occasionally tossed out to needle Curt. The first time Jack and I were introduced, it was clear he wasn’t interested in striking up a friendship with his lover’s former coffee date turned friend. Thankfully we eventually got there. I shoved my hand through my hair and looked for the remote control. I changed the channel on the flat screen and lay back on my sofa.

“That was more than two years ago, idiot. I’m sure. In fact, I’m so sure that I’m inviting you on a date.”

Silence.

Curt cackled into the phone. “I didn’t mean it the way I—one of my clients gave me tickets for a jazz concert next month. There are four of them. Jack and me and you and a date. Or just you. Interested?”

“Hmm. I’d say yes but I’m afraid you’re going to try to pull an Aaron and set me up with someone. There’s no chance you’ll convince me Jack wants to spend an evening with you and a third wheel. Why not ask Matt and Aaron?”

Curt laughed. I could almost see his brown eyes twinkle. I hadn’t seen him in over two months. It was good to hear his voice. I was grateful we’d been able to move on from potential lovers to friends without any awkward adjustments.

“Aaron’s on a mission to make their dream wedding happen in October, so he’s—”

“Bridezilla?” I offered.

“Not exactly. Yet. But they’re busy making plans and I think they’re out of town that Saturday.”

“Now the truth comes out. I’m your third or fourth option!”

“Not at all, idiot. When it comes to anything featuring a jazz horn flute, you’re the man!”

“I’m touched. And I’d love to go. When is it?”

“Four weeks. Plenty of time to rustle up a date or… have Aaron help you find one. He told us his last attempt to set you up didn’t go well. Knowing him he’ll want to rectify his error. Count on him coming up with another candidate soon.”

I groaned on cue. He was right. I supposed I could have assured him the coffee date wasn’t completely awful, but I wasn’t ready to share recent events with Seth or talk about him at all really. It felt too personal. Special even. I steered the conversation away from myself and asked about him.

“Same ol’. No big changes.”

“Meaning you haven’t set a wedding date?”

He snickered appreciatively. “No. Maybe someday, but we’re—oh wait. Jack just walked in. I’ll ask him.” I could hear a door close through the phone connection and a whispered greeting before Curt loudly asked his boyfriend, “Paul wants to know when you’re going to ask me to marry you.”

I sputtered indignantly. “I di—I did no such thing!”

I heard a hearty guffaw on the other end and the telltale sound of a kiss. “I’m glad you’ve had a good laugh at my expense. Cheers.”

“No, hang on. Come by the bar this week after work. How ’bout Thursday?”

“I’m out of town but—”

“I thought you weren’t traveling as much. Come when you can.”

“Hmm. Do I have to unpack my leather pants? I think I owned a pair once upon a time.”

“Nah. Wear khakis like me. We can hide in the corner sipping gin while we ogle all the hot bare-chested hunks and the sexy guy behind the bar. What do you say?”

I laughed, appreciating his silly brand of self-deprecating humor. “Sounds like a plan.”

I stared at the phone for a second. Fuck it. Maybe it was listening to the homey background noises coming from Curt’s end, the rustling of paper, and a man’s low voice. Or maybe it was the silence on my own side. I only knew I didn’t want to wait till Monday to call Seth.

“Hello. It’s Paul. I sent you a text mess—um look, call me when you get a chance. I’m home tonight or well, whenever works too. It was good seeing you in Baltimore. A nice surprise. Cheers.”

I winced at my nerve-wracked tone, but I was glad I’d called. Now the ball was officially in his court.

H
E
DIDN
’
T
call. Or text. Nothing. By Wednesday I admit I was tempted to reach out to him again, but my pride stopped me. By the following Wednesday, I was glad it had and I was more than a little pissed at myself for being truly disappointed. I was a grown man. I’d been around long enough to know when I was being given a not-so-subtle brush-off. Our one-night stand in a Baltimore hotel room was just that. One night only. Once I got past feeling a bit chagrined, I was angry. At myself as well as him.

Always go with your initial instinct.
First impressions count
, I reminded myself as I slumped in my office chair and stared at my computer. I thought he was a prick after our “date” and evidently I’d been correct. A glimmer of my charitable side surfaced and wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was injured or lost his phone or had a family emergency. No. He was just a prick and I was a fool for wasting the better part of almost two weeks pining after someone who wasn’t bloody interested in the first place.

“Mr. Fallon, you have a call on line one.”

I sat forward and rested my elbows on my glass-topped desk. “Thanks, Kerri. Who—”

I sighed irritably when my phone buzzed. “Paul Fallon.”

“Hi there! It’s Aaron. Quick question. Do you have a sec? It’s about the models for the Burberry spread.”

“Sure. What can I help you with?” I flipped through the pages of a new portfolio as I listened to his concerns about the proportions in the layout.

“I need to retake one of the photos. It’s a crucial one so I can’t just leave it out. There are three styles of raincoats on five models but one of the models is positively buried in this coat. He’s too skinny to wear it and—”

“I hate to state the obvious, but use a smaller size coat.”

“That’s what I mean about proportion. I may sound like a diva assistant art director but I want to reshoot it with a broad-shouldered model. Seth was supposed to be in that shot and I think his absence was the issue. It just doesn’t work without him. Supposedly he’s back from whatever made him flake out last week. His agent promised to call me in the morning to confirm. If I have it redone Monday we should still make the deadline and—”

“Seth.”

“Yeah, the tall hunky model with the long ha—your coffee date, silly. The guy you hated. Sorry, but he’s extraordinarily photogenic and bus—”

“No, of course you sh—what do you mean he flaked out last week? I’m… curious.”

“Well, at first I thought his agency had double-booked him, but they’re very reputable so I bet it was personal. I heard he’s back with his ex. Who knows? Maybe he just had a hard time getting out of bed last week.” Aaron snorted. “Sorry for the major hookup fail. Matty’s always telling me to give it a rest, but you never know….”

He was still talking but I couldn’t hear anything after “back with his ex.” An odd buzzing noise reverberated in my skull. My shoulders felt heavy with something akin to defeat and the knot in my stomach made me instantly regret ordering a hamburger at lunch. I was a bigger fool than I thought. I closed my eyes for half a second and made an effort to refocus on the conversation. I had a job to do.

“Don’t worry, Aaron. I trust you’ll make the appropriate corrections. Is there anything else?”

“Uh no. Are you okay? Your voice got kinda weird.”

“Weird?” I gave a humorless chuckle and turned my chair toward my laptop. I had a staff meeting to prepare for in ten minutes. I refused to waste any more time thinking about a photo shoot Seth Landau may or may not be in.

“More English. Your accent is pretty light most of the time… unless you get angry or—”

“I’m not angry in the slightest, but I do have to hang up. I’ve a meeting shortly and—”

“No problem. I’ll get back to you next week with proofs and—you know, there’s this new guy in Matt’s office. He’s a lawyer, midthirties, good-looking.”

I threw my head back and sighed dramatically. “Aaron. Really.”

“I’ll take that as a maybe. Talk to you later!”

I hung up the phone and stared unseeingly at my computer screen. It was time to gather my pride and move on. Lesson learned. No more one-night stands and absolutely no more artists.

A
SLOW
,
steady funk settled over my mood after Aaron dropped the Seth boyfriend bomb. As my American friends were given to say, “shit happens.” Live and learn. I suppose I was more bothered by the fact I had a type I couldn’t shake. And it was invariably the sort of man who was looking for a muse. An inspiration or a diversion until a better source of inspiration took their fancy.