Chance (The One More Night Series) (11 page)

Because it’s dangerous.

Maybe I need some danger in my life.  Maybe it’s time for some danger.

But at what cost?

I ignored my inner voice, and pressed forward.

“If I agree to meet with you tonight, you need to know that this will be it between us.  Just one more night—that’s all it will be.  I want to be very clear with you about that so that you don’t think that I’m leading you on.  Tonight will be it.”

“Why does it have to be it?”

“Because you don’t live here.”

“That suite at The Plaza is reserved for me for a reason.  I come here often.”

“That’s not good enough.  I don’t do long-distance anything, even if it’s just for a hook-up.  Because, before you—like I’ve already told you—I didn’t do one-night stands. You’re my first, and you likely will be my last for a while.  So, if you want to have dinner and then go back to your place knowing that, I’m fine with that.  We can enjoy each other again, and then we can just walk away without a connection and without worries.  If that works for you, then I’ll meet you tonight for dinner.”

It was a moment before he spoke, and in that moment, I wondered if I’d been too brazen with him.  But I decided it didn’t really matter if I had.  At the very least, I’d been honest with him.  Either he agreed to the terms and went into tonight knowing that there wouldn’t be a third time, or last night was it.

“You think that we can just walk away without a connection?”

“I do.”

“And I don’t believe you.  But whatever.  All right—dinner works.  Do you have anywhere in particular in mind that you’d like to go to dinner?  Nobu?  Le Bernardin?  Per Se…?”

“Seriously?” I said.

“You don’t like those restaurants?  All of them have Michelin stars.”

“Chance, I’ve never been to those restaurants because I can’t afford to go to those kinds of restaurants.  And even if I could, it seems like a waste of money to me.  For you, probably not so much.  Besides, I’m not a five-star-restaurant kind of girl, anyway.  So, how about if we take it down several notches?”

“That’s fine.  But what kind of restaurant girl are you?”

“A burger-and-fries kind of girl.”

“Really?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I guess I’m not used to that.”

“What are you used to?”

“I think you misunderstood me.  My preference is equally low-key.  But others tend to expect something more from me.”

“Others meaning the women you’ve dated?”

“In the past—yes.”

“Because you’re rich, they expected the five-star treatment?”

He sounded flustered when he spoke.  “Yes.  I guess so.”

“I think you know so.  Anyway, you can reacquaint yourself with those finer restaurants with other women after you’re done with me.”

“When I’m done with you?  What does that even mean?”

I’d already been clear with him that tonight was it, so I chose not to respond.  Best to keep this conversation moving.  “So, how does something less formal sound?”

“I’d actually prefer that.  Where do you have in mind?”

“There’s this diner in the West Village that I like.  Best burgers and fries in town.  It sounds as if you could use a heaping dose of realness to even you out after suffering through all of those Michelin stars, so let’s go there.  Just make sure you dress super casual, because there’s nothing uptight about this place.  Believe me, it’s not Per Se, OK?  But the food is good.  Maybe better.”

“Are you angry with me, Abby?”

I closed my eyes, knowing that I probably deserved that.  I was coming off like a bitch.  I didn’t mean to, but I had to wonder why I was acting this way.

To keep him at bay.  That’s the reason why.

But he’s done nothing to me. 

He’s pursuing you.

Let him.  I still plan on walking away.

I think you’re naïve.

Think what you want.

“No,” I said.  “I’m not angry with you.”

“It sounds as if you are.”

“I’m not.  I just didn’t expect this.”

“Expect what?”

For you to call me.  For you to confuse me the way you have.
 

“To hear from you.”

“Why wouldn’t I reach out to you again?  Last night was beautiful.  I enjoyed it.  I thought you also did.  I’d just like to see you again, Abby.  It’s that simple.”

Nothing is that simple.

Sometimes it can be.

“I apologize,” I said.  “So, I’ll see you at eight?”

“Perfect.  Where can I pick you up?”

I gave him my address.

“And Abby?”

“Yes?”

“You’re coming off hot right now for a reason.”

I stood still in the kitchen looking into the living room, where the sun was beating against the windows.  It was having its way with them now, setting them on fire so that they were likely too hot to touch.  Would they resist the heat if they could?  Maybe.  Maybe not.  I wondered if I could, but he was formidable.  Intense.

I decided to say nothing.

“I think I know why.  I also think that you know why.”

“Are you able to read my mind?”

“There’s no need to.  Everything you don’t want to say has already been said by going silent.  But we’ll talk about it later if you’d like.  As for now, here’s what you need to know.  Tonight, I plan on smashing apart those barriers of yours, Abby.  Be prepared for that.”

Before I could respond, the line went dead.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Later, after I was finally able to take a shower, I pulled myself together and tied my hair high behind my head in a tight ponytail.  I looked at the leftover pasta that was busy coagulating in the fridge, but after setting a second date with Chance, I felt so sick to my stomach that there was no way that I could eat anything.  So, I just removed another chilled bottle of water from one of the shelves, sat down on the couch with my Kindle, and started to read while I waited for Brooke and Elle to return home.

And when they do, the shit storm will hit
. 

It was just after one when I heard movement outside the apartment door.  One of them inserted a key into the lock, the door opened, and I felt myself tense.

“Honey, we’re home,” I heard Elle say.

“And why did we even come home?” Brooke said.  “This place is at least twenty degrees hotter than it was at Starbucks.  Our air conditioning is so pathetic, it can’t keep up with this heat.  We should go back and take Abby with us.” 

I smiled at them when they entered the living space.  “Take a cold shower,” I said.  “It worked for me.”

“You took a cold shower for different reasons.”

“Oh please.”

“What are you reading?” Brooke asked.

“Another one of her torrid romances,” Elle said.  “What’s this one called, Abby?  ‘On the Edge of Desire’?  ‘My Heart Beats Only for Him’?  ‘Please Don’t Shoot in My Mouth’?”

“You’re disgusting.”

“So, what’s it called?”

“
Annihilate Me
.”

“What the hell kind of a title is that?”

“One that’s supposed to annihilate me to my core, but in all the right ways.”

“You and your romances.  After last night, I’d think you’d be reading erotica.”

“This series has its erotic moments!”

“You’re so predictable.”

I’m not that predictable….

“Have you eaten anything?” Brooke asked.

I screwed up my face at her.  “Now you sound like my mother.  By the way, she called earlier and asked me the same thing.  I spoke with her and Aunt Marion.  It was as epic as you’d expect given that each was in the same room with the other.  Talk about a division of ideals.  I’ve never understood how it’s possible that they’re sisters.”

“I love your Aunt Marion,” Elle said.  “She’s kind of my idol.  Imagine, living in Paris throughout your twenties.  Talk about epic.”

Brooke nodded.  “That woman isn’t only hot, but she’s a hoot.  How is she?”

“Crazy as ever, which naturally made for a festive conversation that ended with my mother grabbing one of her plastic crucifixes and threatening to exorcise my aunt with it before the line went dead.”

“Now I miss home,” Elle said.

“A good dose of Aunt Marion is all a girl needs,” I agreed.

“I love your mother to death, but I can’t say the same about a good dose of her.  I think she holds you back.  Her and her goddamned religious beliefs.  Did she get into your head again?”

“She warned me against ‘the city boys.’”

“See what I mean?”

“I’m fully aware of my mother’s issues, Elle.”

“I just wish you were aware of how much they’ve affected you.”

I shot her a warning look, and she held up her hands. 

“But enough about that,” she said.

“So, did you eat?” Brooke asked.

“It’s too hot to eat.  I think I’d feel sick if I ate anything.”  I lifted my bottle of water.  “However, I am keeping myself properly hydrated.  Did you two eat?”

“Negative—same reason.  The heat is insane.”

“It’s hell outside.”

“My mother suggested that I step outside, fry an egg on my face, and eat it,” I said.  “Because apparently I’m not eating enough.”

“No comment,” Elle said.”

“None needed.”

She flopped down on one of the over-stuffed chairs opposite me.  Brooke stepped in front of her and curled up in the chair beside her.  Each was wearing shorts and a tank top, and I thought that they looked cute.  Brooke was so fair, she had turned pink during the five-block walk to Starbucks.  But not Elle.  Elle had only gotten darker.  Her tan was something to envy, but when wasn’t it?

“When did you get up?” she asked.

“A couple of hours ago.”

“How do you feel?”

A little anxious, thanks.  The word on the street is that my barriers are about to be smashed apart. 

“Great.  I wanted to sleep longer, but it was so hot in that room, sleep was impossible.  So I got up to take a shower but then my mother called.  We talked.  She and Aunt Marion squabbled.  And then Chance called.”

They looked at me, then at each other—and I braced myself for what was to come.

“He did what?” Elle asked.

“He called me.”

“You gave him your number?”

“Not exactly….”

“He hunted it down?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“What is he—some kind of stalker?”

“Well, he said that he wasn’t.”

“How did he get your number?”

“He said that he asked his assistant to get it for him.  She did.  So, I guess she’s the stalker, not him.”

“Oh, aren’t you being cheeky,” Brooke said. 

“I’m not being cheeky.”

“Then why do your cheeks look like apples right now?”

“Because I’ve decided that I want to see him again.  I’ve decided that I want one more night with him.”  I cocked my head at them.  “Chance and I are having dinner tonight.  Then we’re going to sleep together.  One last time.  And you two are going to help me get ready for it.”

*  *  *

“Abby, what are you thinking?” Brooke asked out of concern.  “Last night was enough.  They’re called one-night stands for a reason.  You don’t ever do a second-night stand.  There’s a reason for that.  Look it up in the Bible.”

“The Bible, Brooke?  Seriously?”

“Yes, of course.  ‘The Internet Bible for Single Women.’  It’s a popular website.”

“Guess I’m out of touch with that….”

“Never having a second-night stand is one of the Bible’s main commandments—and for good reason.  Being with this guy again could cause you to become emotionally attached to him.  Why do you want to do that to yourself?”

“Ummmm… let’s see.  First, because becoming attached to him isn’t going to happen.  Second, because he was nothing if not a gentleman at the party.  And third, because he was incredible in bed, and I want to experience that with him again.”  I clapped my hands and smiled at them.  “So, that pretty much sums it up.”

“You’re making a mistake,” Elle said.

“You know, I never call either of you out when you have your little trysts.  So, why am I being singled out for mine?  It’s not fair—and I’m not stupid.  I haven’t lived an irresponsible life.  Hell, I haven’t been with anyone since Brian—”

“That’s what concerns us,” Elle interrupted.  “If you’re going to put yourself out there again, you should play the field and take it slow.”

“I’m a big girl, Elle.  And I’ve already made up my mind.  I’ve called in sick to work.  Chance and I are going out for dinner.  I’ll text one of you if I’m not coming home.”

“You already know you aren’t coming home,” Brooke said.

“Unless things go to hell during dinner, you’re probably right.  But I’ll still text you either way.”

Elle shook her head at me.  “Abby, don’t take this the wrong way.  You know that I love you and respect you.  My fear is that you’re going to get hurt.  That’s all.”

“I know the potential downside of this, Elle.”

“I don’t think you do.  You haven’t been with as many men as Brooke and I have.  You don’t know the pitfalls of expecting something more, and then not receiving what you hoped you’d get.  I think what you’re doing is dangerous.  You told us that he doesn’t even live here.  That he just touches down in city after city.”

“Exactly,” I said.  “Which is one of the reasons I won’t be getting attached to him.  Look, let’s just cut to it.  Last night was fun.  And who knows?  Considering my staggering record of male conquests, there’s a very good chance that I might not get laid for another year after this.  Or two.  And I want to have sex again—with him.  Why can’t you accept that?”

“Because we know what’s coming,” Brooke said.  “And we don’t want you to be disappointed when it doesn’t turn out the way you think it might turn out.”

“I’m confused.  How do you think I think this is going to turn out?”

“Happily,” she said.  “Like in one your romance novels.  I’m here to tell you that those books exist only to sell a fantasy.  But right now, you’re dealing with reality, and it might bite you in the ass.”