Ditching The Dream (Dream Series) (19 page)

“Who?”

“Jack Stevens.”

“Wait a minute. ‘Jack-ass Jack’?”

“Hmm-hmmm,” I hummed back.

“Billboard-underwear-model-who-somehow-screwed-over-your-sister-and-her-best-friend-from-bumble-fuck-Charter-Oaks-Colorado, Jack Stevens.”

“That would be the one.”

“You are fucking kidding me! How in the hell did you guys cross paths?”

“He’s the regular at the bar I was telling you about last time.”

“Oh. My. God. Was he like ‘Hey Lizzie, wanna get all smarmy with me Wednesday night?”

“No, actually he doesn’t recognize me.”

“Well, it has been about thirty years, and he is like ten years older than you. We were, what? Twelve when he broke up with Jenny?”

“About. So, quick. He’s going to be here any minute. Spiky or tailored?”

“Is he still as sexy? And famous?”

“More. And yes.”

“Oh my god. Call me the instant you get in with details. Take pictures. Go with the spiky hair so it doesn’t look messed up when he’s screwing you in the coat closet or whatever he did to get the name Jack-ass Jack.”

Just then the other line beeped. Checking the screen,
JACK
was blinking back at me. I was very grateful for the interruption or she would have had me spilling about my night with Kevin last night.

“Listen, Jess, that’s him on the other line. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Good luck! And practice safe sex! And tell me EVERY DETAIL.”

I shook my head, laughing, and answered the other call.

“Your doorman won’t tell me which apartment is yours, or let me up to collect you,” he growled through the phone line. I hadn’t realized just how sexy his voice was until it wasn’t connected to the rest of the package.

“I’m almost ready, I’ll be down in three minutes.”

“Aww, can’t I come up?” I heard him pout.

Scanning my apartment, clothes piled on the bed and the kitchen not exactly clean, “No. I’ll be down in three. Keep your pants on, Mr. Stevens.” He laughed as I ended the call.

I decided to take Jess’ advice. I quickly gooped up my hands with some pomade, pulled it through my hair, and gave my short tresses the mussed up, spiky treatment the way Bobbie showed me. Satisfied with the result, I washed my hands, spritzed on some Acqua di Gioia perfume and made my way to the elevator.

I was just about to turn back to my apartment with nerves getting to me and cancel this whole thing all together when the elevator doors opened. I stepped in, pressed the button for the Lobby and the doors were almost closed when a large hand stopped them from closing, and the doors bounced back open. Kevin.

“Hey, Lizzie, fancy meeting you here. You look incredible.” He inhaled deeply, his eyes with those amazing lashes, fluttering closed. “And, it’s definitely not Eau-du-Steak,” he drawled. Shaking his head, he opened his eyes and they looked me up and down, practically undressing my elegant outfit. He didn’t look bad himself, dressed in all black. Black button-down, black jeans, black cowboy boots. And he smelled divine, too, all musky and manly. God, I wanted his hands on me. “So, headed out on those
plans
?” he continued, snapping me out of my wayward thoughts.

“Yup,” I managed, trying to get my hormones in check. “Looks like you have some plans lined up yourself.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, same group as last night. We teachers use every possible minute of spring break that we can get. We’re going to some new club that Peter was talking about last night.”

“Have a great time,” I sputtered as we neared the lobby where Jack would be standing waiting for me. Oh God, this wasn’t going to be awkward at all! Why didn’t I just let Jack upstairs?

Ding!
We reached the lobby and the doors opened.

“Ladies first,” Kevin said with a flourish and placing his hand on my lower back ushered me out, his touch sending those now familiar electric currents up my spine. As I turned toward the lobby my knees almost buckled from the contact, and Kevin caught me since his hand was already on my back.

Jack rushed over to help, possessively shooting daggers at Kevin for having his hands on me.

“Beth, honey, are you okay?” Jack exclaimed as he helped me back on my feet.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Must have just caught my heel on something. Just a klutz I guess. Thank you.” I got a good look at Jack. My mouth watered. He was dressed in a gorgeous dark blue suit with a light blue shirt, no tie, unbuttoned at the top. The blues added a delicious depth to his brown eyes and his silvering hair.

“Do you need me to get you an ice pack for your ankle or anything, Liz?” Kevin asked.

I gasped and turned my head to him.

“Oh, I’m fine, really. Thanks.” The two men took sized each other up. Both standing over six-feet, eye-to-eye really. And I actually felt a little short, even in the heels that had caused so much commotion. I should’ve just worn flats. But then I would have felt down-right short.

“Hi, Jack Stevens,” he said sticking his hand out toward Kevin.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Where are my manners? Jack, this is my neighbor, Kevin Parker. Kevin, this is Jack Stevens, an old friend,” I said with a wink at Jack. The ‘old friend’ reference startled Jack slightly, which was just the reaction I was hoping for.

Kevin stuck out his hand giving a stiff shake. “Nice to meet you, Jack. Well, Lizzie, don’t stay out too late. Too many late nights aren’t healthy.” He leaned in and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek then made his way out the front door that Dominic held for him.

“Friendly neighbor,” Jack said, rolling his jaw. “And what’s with calling me an ‘old friend?”

“What? You’re older and you’re a friend,” I replied hoping he’d find it funny, and not catching on that I actually knew who he was.

“Hmm-hmm,” he replied. “We’ll have to see about that.” He narrowed his eyes and wagged his eyebrows, and I was suddenly somewhere between incredibly scared and extremely turned on.

The limo ride to the restaurant, a small place in the trendy “Greenwich Village” area of New York City, with Anand driving, was fairly quick. The whole ride there down Park Avenue, Jack played tour guide pointing out the neighborhoods, Upper East Side, which was where I was living, Midtown East, Murray Hill, where he lived, Gramercy and the East Village, then Greenwich Village. He rattled off some of the famous people who lived in each part of town and exciting things that happened there, including the building his company was in, only a few blocks from Ed Scott’s.

After we were seated in a quiet corner of a very tiny restaurant, we were alone for the first time since I ran from his home the other night. Not knowing what to say, I picked up my menu and busied myself in an exploration of the extravagant choices.

“I’m sorry I made you run the other night,” he started. “But I’m glad you were still good for tonight.”

I peeked up at him to see a genuinely happy face. Not one with an agenda. I finally let out my breath and started to relax. “Me too,” I smiled back. “How am I supposed to choose from this menu? It all looks so good.”

“Do you trust me?”

“I guess,” I replied. And I did. I trusted him.

“I take it you’re not a vegetarian seeing as how you work in a steak house?”

I laughed. “Definitely a carnivore. Thank you.”

Jack waved the server down and ordered drinks to start with and several courses. I wondered if we’d need wheelchairs to make our way out of here.

Over the next two hours, Jack was a merciless flirt, his eyes undressing me, but the overall mood was light and fun. We talked about our travels, charities, our hobbies, and sports, which was thankfully limited for the both of us. Although I was tempted to ask him about what he did and what his back story was, but I didn’t because if I asked him, he’d ask me. I didn’t feel like jumping in those waters. And since he wasn’t asking me any of those questions either, it was an easy topic to avoid.

The only truly personal question we tackled was our birthdays, not the year, just the month and day. He seemed delighted that my birthday was in less than a week.

After we enjoyed several food courses covering ceviche, lobster bisque, spinach salad, and duck, I had to draw the line and decline on dessert. Alas, we did go with a nightcap; Jack ordered his eighteen year Macallan, I chose a sweet limoncello. Jack paid the check and, with his hand running up and down my back, we made our way to the street where Anand stood waiting with the limo. Yeah, a girl could definitely get used to this.

L
eaving my friends at our table, laughing and carrying on, I went to the bar to get another beer. I could have waited for our server to come by, but I needed a break. When I showed up alone, they all started in with the questions about why Liz hadn’t come along.

Because she’s out with an old guy,
I wanted to shout. Instead, I did what I always did, I stuffed my feelings down. I simply said she’d had other plans.

I couldn’t get in the spirit of the night. I didn’t feel like dancing. Memories of dancing with Liz last night were too fresh. A half a dozen times I almost went home early.

Why was she going out with him? He was old, for cryin’ out loud! Way too old for her. Sure, she was maybe a few years older than me, but he was nearly old enough to be her father! Okay, maybe that was pushing it, but he had to be in his fifties. And I was secure enough to acknowledge that he was attractive, but… The way he had his hands on her…? I clenched my fists, and tried to calm my irritation.

And what did she mean by calling him an “old friend”? I didn’t think she knew anyone here in New York. Maybe she did… I didn’t know. I didn’t want to think about it.

I drained my beer, and went home.

I
slid into the back seat of the limo and Jack slid in right behind me. He leaned in close and whispered “Your place, or mine?” His lips brushed my ear.

I gulped hard and tried to control my breath. All the flirting and drinks from dinner were making it difficult to focus. “Well, I’ve given you your dinner date that you deserve for nearly busting your toe and scuffing your Pradas,” I didn’t recognize my own voice, the combination of alcohol, desire and a hint of fear left my voice sounding desperate. “But I think I should turn in.” Yeah, I didn’t believe the words either.

“You’re not a pumpkin are you?” he asked, his lips dipping to my neck, my head automatically dropping to the side, allowing him better access.

I moaned lightly and Jack’s hand came up to my chin, pulling my lips to his. He delicately kissed and licked at my mouth seeking entrance. Before I could tell myself to stop, I found my lips parting, allowing him the space he sought and I reveled in the taste of the remnants of his signature Macallan. I heard myself moan. He felt, smelled, and tasted so incredible. The combination was intoxicating.

“I’ve been aching to do that. All. Night. Long,” he groaned punctuating each word with a kiss. If I were completely honest with myself and him, I’d have admitted that I had been aching to do this since Monday night.

My insides were clenching with need. A need that Monday night had started with this man. I wanted to go back to that night and ignore my sister’s call. I wonder how far things would have gone. Would I have gone to bed with him?

“Your place or mine?” he repeated against my mouth.

I couldn’t! What was I doing? This was just supposed to be dinner. Why was I a puddled mass of need with him?

“You –” I started to protest.

“My place. Perfect.”

And as if by magic, the dark glass that was dividing the front from the back came down a few inches. “My place, Anand.”

“Yes, Mr. Stevens.” And the window went back up.

Jack turned back to kissing me and, taking hold of my hips, pulled me onto his lap. There I sat astride Jack Steven’s lap, his hands burning on my hips, and his erection straining in his slacks under me.

“What do you want from me, Jack?” I found myself asking.

“I don’t know. I do know that I want
you
and I need to see where this goes.”

“But –”

“No buts… I’m not alone here.” He ground his hips upward and into me causing me to gasp. “Right?”