Christmas Crush (3 page)

“Maybe it’s not him.” Chase didn’t sound convinced.

“Is that suit polyester? Even I don’t wear suits
that lame.”

“Is there any way he’d know who you are?” Chase
looked as if he had an idea. “I mean, unless you tell him?”

“Not really. He has my general description, but he’s
expecting me to be alone, and I’m with you.”

Chase’s expression sharpened. “Damn straight you are.”

A little thrill went through me at the
possessiveness in his voice. But how would I get out of this now?

“Listen, let’s stand near him and get a feel for
what he’s like.”

“Why?” I frowned. “He doesn’t look like my type
anyway.”

Chase shrugged. “If he seems like a jerk at least
you won’t feel guilty about ditching him.”

“What if he’s amazing?” I asked.

“Then we’ll duel over you. I don’t know, but I think
you’d feel better if you have a reason to ditch him. You seem like the
honorable type.”

“It’s worth a try. Grace would have no right to be
mad at me if the guy’s an idiot or something.”

“Exactly.”

The guy positioned himself at the bar in a way that
allowed him to scope the room. Chase and I wormed our way a couple of seats
over. My heart tried to jump from my chest as I watched the newcomer out of the
corner of my eye.

Grace hadn’t told me much about him, other than his
name was Dave and he liked to read. But I had the feeling my sister hadn’t
really been thinking of making a love connection
so
much as a
get Peter out of his apartment
connection.

“Merry Christmas Eve,” Chase said to the guy.

My anxiety skyrocketed when Chase spoke. I turned
away briefly to take a swig off my drink. I looked back to see the new guy
giving Chase a head to toe once over. He seemed to approve of what he saw.

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” he said. His eyes
were pale and a small mustache framed his thin lips.

“Are you here alone?” Chase asked.

The guy hesitated before answering. “I am.”

I waited for him to add he’d come to meet someone,
but he didn’t continue.
Strike one.
If he
was
my date, at least like me, he
stood no chance against Chase’s charms.

“Sucks being alone on Christmas Eve, doesn’t it?”
Chase asked.

“Um … yeah, that’s why I decided hey, what the heck
I’ll just go out to a club or something,” he said.

“You’re kind of late to the party,” Chase said.

“I know. I wasn’t sure I’d bother coming at all. In
fact I’d decided I wasn’t and my … uh … friend called and nagged me to get over
here.” New guy rolled his eyes.

The bartender distracted the guy for a moment and I
whispered to Chase, “What if it’s not him? What if this is just some guy who
likes red carnations?”

Chase nodded. “Did your sister tell you your date’s
name?”

“It’s Dave.”

Chase turned back to the guy. “Is your friend here?
The one who nagged you?”

The guy chewed his lip. “My friend wasn’t—no.”

Chase smiled and the new guy’s expression melted.

“Was that your answer?” Chase asked.

The guy leaned toward Chase and said softly, “Does
it really matter what brought me here? I’m here now and you’re here now. That’s
good enough for me.”

My toes curled in my shoes at his leering voice. I
also had to acknowledge the spike of jealousy that hit me. If this turned out
to be the guy, he acted like a jerk, and if it wasn’t him he still seemed like
a creep.

Smooth as silk, Chase offered his hand.
“Name’s Chase.”

“Nice to meet you, Chase,” the guy said. “I’m Dave.”

Chase pulled his hand from Dave’s smarmy one and
twisted to me. “Good enough?”

I nodded and stood, almost feeling sorry for Dave’s
obvious confusion.
Almost.

“Well, we’ve got to be going,” Chase said. “Tell
Grace
things
just aren’t going to work out between you
and Peter.”

“I don’t understand.” Dave looked baffled.

“Let me explain. It’s really quite simple. You came
here to meet Peter on a blind date arranged by his sister Grace.”

“Oh, I’m Peter, by the way.” I waved and Dave’s eyes
flickered.

“But I met him first because you were super late.”

“I mean, not even a phone call, dude. Pretty rude,”
I said.

“You’re Peter?” Dave asked.

“Plus, it seems you’re kind of a prick who isn’t
deserving of a great guy like Peter, so I think I’m going to take him instead.”

“You know Grace?” Dave asked, looking bewildered.

“That’s all he got out of that?” I asked.

“Can we go now?” Chase tugged at my arm. He cast a
scornful glance at Dave. “He’s going to put me in a bad mood.”

“Okay.”

He beamed and didn’t waste any time pulling me after
him. We pushed through the crowd, slowly making our way toward the entrance. He
didn’t notice, but I observed at least three very surprised faces when they saw
whose hand he held. The bouncer nodded at Chase as we passed, and frowned when
he caught sight of me. I guess I wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea.

When we reached the lobby, he headed toward a big
door I’d never noticed before, tucked in the back. There were stairs. Lots of
them and we puffed our way to the top, Chase leading the charge.

“Do you pick your companions based on whether or not
they look like they could survive the climb up to your apartment?” I wheezed.

He gave a breathless laugh. “I’ve begged my dad to
put in an elevator, but he says it’s too expensive.”

We eventually reached a landing where there were
three black lacquered doors with brass letters attached. We headed to apartment
B.

With a jangle of keys, he opened the door and swung
it wide for me.

“Welcome to my lair.” He rubbed his hands together
fiendishly.

“You’re not a serial killer, right?”

“Nah.”

His apartment looked nothing like I’d expected. The
walls were warm oatmeal, with walnut floors and bookshelves filled with actual
books. I didn’t see that a lot. People just stuffed their bookcases with knick-knacks
and CD’s these days. A moss-green sofa and big arm chair with side tables were
positioned in front of a small brick fireplace. A Van Gogh copycat hung over
the white mantel, where an Eifel Tower-shaped lamp cast warm, golden light into
the room. I noticed a small kitchen off to the side, with brown tiled floors
and steel appliances. And another closed door most likely his bedroom.

“Would you like some wine?” he asked.

I nodded, still staring at the room in silence. I
moved to the books, lovingly running my hands along the stiff spines. He even
had hard covers. No one bothered plunking down the extra money on those
anymore.

 
“White or red?”

 
“Red,
please,” I said. I continued stroking the books, and one in particular caught
my eye. I gently pried it from between the other books. “Oh my God, you have a
first edition by Ernest Hemmingway?”

“It would appear I do.”

“The last time I checked prices this book would go
for six hundred dollars.” I thought I might hyperventilate.

“I don’t remember how much it was, but whatever the
price it would be worth it.”

“I’d keep it in a vault if I were you.”

 
He poured the
wine, and placed a pile of big square brownies on a plate before carrying them
out of the kitchen. “Close your mouth. Come over here and sit by me.”

I snapped my mouth shut, and carefully put the book
back where I’d found it. I took my glass and followed him to the couch. “Are
those books yours?”

He nodded, holding out the plate of brownies to me. “I’m
starving, and I assume you must be too,” he said, biting into a brownie.

“I didn’t have dinner since I was waiting for that
guy.” I grabbed a soft chocolate brownie and chomped down. “So you like books?”

“I love books,” he said, his expression enigmatic. “Do
you notice how peaceful it is up here?”

I laughed, covering my mouth so my brownie didn’t
fly out. “You win. I would never know you live over a club.”

He took his shoes off, dropping them soundlessly to
the floor, and curled his feet under his legs. “I’m many things, but I’m not a
liar.”

“You’re mighty flexible,” I said, admiring his
graceful pose. “I think I would break something if I tried to sit like that.”

“I used to do gymnastics when I was younger.”

I tried to ignore all the images of him in multiple
positions instantly flying into my brain. I didn’t do well though because I
felt my crotch heat up.

Chase finished with his brownie, and sat, sipping
his wine. He’d removed his red hoodie, and wore a white cotton t-shirt and his
jeans. He still looked cool, and perfect. I looked down at myself and frowned.

“I’m still in the dark as to why you like me,” I said.
Why couldn’t I be happy, instead of feeling inferior?

“Look around you. Was this what you expected my
place to look like?”

I flushed. “No.”

“Did you think it would be pink fluffy pillows and
cats roaming around?”

“Nothing like that.
I
thought it would be colder and more modern.”

He frowned. “Do I look cold?”

“No, but you look modern.”

“It’s just window dressing.” He shifted
uncomfortably and pointed to his chest. “I’m not modern in here.”

 
I grinned. “Well,
that was way too corny to be cool.”

“Screw you.” He laughed.

I didn’t answer, too afraid I’d say
yes,
please
,
and I wasn’t sure exactly what I intended to do tonight. I knew what I wanted
to do, but I might be starting to like him too much.

“Is this your place?” I asked.

“Yes. It’s an odd setup. I’m an only child and the
building was left to me by my grandmother, but my father owns the club
downstairs.”

I grinned. “You’re your father’s landlord?”

“Weird, right?”

“Couldn’t you have an elevator put in regardless of
what your father says?”

His eyebrows went up a little in surprise. “You
really did not like those stairs, did you?”

“I just mean, it’s your building. Can’t you do what
you want?”

He bit his lip, watching me. “If I do that the club
would have to be closed for God knows how long, which would mean my dad would
lose a ton of money. So I weigh the fact that I find it inconvenient against
his financial needs, and it doesn’t seem like such a big deal that I have to
walk up a few stairs.”

I liked his outlook. Perhaps he wasn’t superficial
after all. “It felt more like forty thousand stairs. But
it’s
sweet you put him before yourself.”

“Trust me, when I’m carrying my groceries up here, I
rethink myself every time.” He watched me, a smile playing around his lips.
“What about you? Do you live alone?”

“Yes. Grace and I lived together a few years after
our parents died, but a year ago we got our own places. I’m twenty-four and
Grace is a year older. It seemed like the best idea if we’re ever going to
forge grown up romantic relationships with people.”

He smiled. “You’re funny. You either share nothing
or you share a lot.”

My cheeks warmed. “Sorry.”

“No, I didn’t mean it as a criticism. It was an
observation.” He shrugged. “For the record, I like it when you share a lot.”

“Okay.”

“What do you do for a living?” he asked.

“I’m a graphic artist. I freelance mostly, but I
make good money.”

 
“I draw,
too.” He laughed. “I have a drafting table in my bedroom.”

At the mention of his bedroom, my pulse sped up.
“You didn’t bring me up here to see your etchings, did you?”

“I’ll show you whatever you want to see,” he said.

I licked my lips nervously. “Do you make a living
with your art?”

“Nah.
I do
it for fun. I’ve sold a few pieces, but I don’t have to work. My family has
money.”

“Oh. I pretty much have to work if I want to eat.”

He drew his brows together in a frown. “It makes me
feel weird. I mean that my family is so wealthy. Sometimes I feel like a
slacker.”

“Do you do anything useful with your money?”

He laughed gruffly. “I don’t know about useful, but
I want to buy this business I’ve had my eye on for years.”

“What sort of business?”