Exposed by Fate (2 page)

Chapter Two

Whoo yeah. He just touched my butt. Play it cool. Happens all the time.

Except it didn’t happen all the time. In Eliza’s world, when a man touched
your
butt, you reported
his
butt to human resources. Tonight, however, she was a million miles away from New York City’s cut-throat interior design world where she spent most of her waking hours. Tonight was for her. Tonight, butts would be touched. Or walloped, as the case may be.

Porter, the too-sexy Brit who bore a striking resemblance to mid-nineties Gavin Rosdale, pulled her closer. She swayed further into his embrace, without any of her usual reservations holding her back, letting herself enjoy the smell of his expensive cologne, his masculinity.

She’d met Porter a month ago at Serve when her best friend Caroline convinced her to stop in for a drink. Caroline had met the love of her life that night. Eliza had made a jackass out of herself.

After one dance with Porter that same evening, it had become obvious to her she was in
way
over her head. He spent a lot of time upstairs at Serve, where certain
activities
took place, so to speak. Eliza’s idea of an activity was browsing swatches. Still, she’d been excited by his cool demeanor, eager to try something new even if the world of BDSM was completely foreign to her. They hadn’t even made it to the elevator when her nerves had caught up with her. And yeah, it might have had something to do with the burgeoning threesome taking place on a
beautifully
upholstered chaise longue adjacent to the dance floor. She’d stammered an excuse about needing to find Caroline and ran out, all the while knowing she would regret her cowardice in the morning, which she certainly had.

That night had been her chance to really feel something. To experience a new world outside of her orb of spun glass. She’d come to New York for adventure and so far, she’d only alienated herself from the rest of the population.

Exactly as she’d vowed she would never do. Exactly like—

Eliza shook off the dark thought. Since graduating college, she’d been busting her hump, starting as an intern at the prestigious Rothman and Cower Design Firm, before moving higher in the ranks. Now she had exclusive, influential clients who recommended her services to their friends. She had her own office, an assistant, stability. The success she’d always dreamed of. Perhaps she hadn’t quite gotten to the level that would make her a partner one day, but she planned to change that. Soon.

With all the success in her professional life, she should be walking on air. Instead, most mornings she woke up on her living room floor, surrounded by piles of fabric samples, with Cheez-Its stuck in her hair, wondering if achieving her goals meant being lonely. Making a trade-off. Her social calendar was sadly lacking in anything that didn’t pertain to work. Or the new HGTV fall lineup. Eliza needed an outlet. She desperately wanted to feel sexy, desirable. Porter had made her feel that way in spades that first night. Hell, he’d looked at her like she was cherry pie fresh from the oven. She’d come back to Serve after having completed the required paperwork and interview process, only to be stood up by Porter her first time as an official member of the club. Her subsequent humiliation had led to a night of complete and utter intoxication to compensate, courtesy of the club’s creative martini menu.

Not tonight. Tonight, she’d shed her insecurities and come here for an experience. Had it been fate that the first man she’d run into was Porter? She chose to think so and nothing, not even two walruses flogging each other while singing the national anthem, would send her packing. The thought of Porter doing the things to her that she’d read about recently made her feel flushed from head to toe. His hand had moved from her bottom to coast up the small of her back, but she could still feel his touch there.

“Ready to go upstairs?”

Oh Lord, that accent. Eliza nodded once. “Let’s go.”

Porter twined their fingers together. “No standing me up this time?”

“Me? Stand
you
up?”

When Porter only nodded once, Eliza frowned, ready to point out that
he’d
been the one to ditch
her
, when a familiar voice interrupted from behind. “Eliza ‘the sunny bunny’ Ballas, is that you?”

Oliver?

Without another thought, she immediately disengaged her hand from Porter’s, letting it drop. She wanted to kick herself afterwards, but it had been knee-jerk. Not because she felt guilty. Certainly not. But she’d only just gotten comfortable stepping outside of her comfort zone. Someone from her normal, everyday life witnessing that zone-jumping meant sheets of a different thread count. Oliver knew her only as his sister’s studious friend. In her miniscule black dress and red pumps that matched her lipstick, she looked anything but studious. Slowly, she turned to face Oliver.

As it always did when she ran into Caroline’s brother, her stomach flipped a little. Nothing behind it. Just pure female appreciation. Helen Keller herself would have had the same reaction. She knew through Caroline that her brother spent every morning in the gym, hungover or not. That dedication had done him, and every female in the vicinity, a major service. Well-honed muscles drew the eye as they shifted under his shirt, within tailored sleeves. Careless bed-head brought to mind an image of him stumbling out of a hotel room, four shades of lipstick on his collar. In fact, she would lay odds that very scenario had taken place more than once. His smile alone radiated such sensual confidence, it had to be illegal in most states and yet, it didn’t even compare to
the look
.

Oliver Preston looked at women as though he were already
inside
them.

So, yeah. It tended to throw a girl off her game.

Unless, of course, you were Eliza and you’d known him for seven years, seen him go through upwards of one hundred short-term relationships and countless one-night stands. Then you would know he looked at every woman the same way, and it meant nothing.
Nothing
. It was just Oliver being Oliver. Women loved him. Men wanted the name of his personal trainer. He was friends with everyone and committed to no one.

If there was an unusually hard glint in his eye when he nodded at Porter, surely she was imagining it.

“Thought it was you. Looking good, babe.” He came forward and pulled her into a crushing hug. She couldn’t help but compare his scent to Porter’s. Clean and familiar instead of darkly mysterious. Over his shoulder, she met Porter’s eyes with a silent apology.

“Oliver, we were just—”

“Heading upstairs,” Porter interjected firmly, making Eliza’s neck heat.

“Yes.” Oliver laid a hand on his chest, looking confused. “But
I’m
here now.”

Eliza couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped. “If Oliver arrives unexpectedly, all plans are subject to change?”

He winked at her. “Quick as always, aren’t you?”

She shook her head, silently cursing the stupid flip-flop in her belly. How long would she need to know this man before her body stopped counteracting her brain around him? “Listen,” she leaned in and said for Oliver’s ears alone, “you’re cramping my style, playboy. Scram.”

“Sorry. Can’t do it.” He frowned. “And ouch.”

“What do you mean ‘can’t do it’?”

He avoided her gaze. “Is this the first time you’ve been out with this guy?”

“Yes and no. It’s the first time we….”

Blue eyes snapped to hers. “Have gone upstairs?”

Eliza said nothing.

Oliver cleared his throat. “Make an excuse and I’ll take you home. He’s not what you want.
This
isn’t what you want.”

She felt a punch of irritation. “I’d like to find that out for myself, thank you.”

Porter moved closer and slid an arm around her waist. “Is there a problem?”

“No.”

Oliver’s attention was focused on Porter’s arm, brow quirked. “Yes,” he said slowly, with just a hint of surprise. “It would seem so.”

“Care to share?” Porter asked, a hard edge to his tone.

For a moment, Oliver looked to be debating with himself. Finally, he smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes as usual. “I’d like a word alone with Eliza. Would you mind?”

Porter hesitated a moment before leaning down to whisper in her ear. “I’ll be at the bar. Come get me when you’re done.” His lips brushed her ear and although Eliza couldn’t see him, she got the feeling his gaze was on Oliver. “I hope you don’t keep me waiting too long. I’m eager to get you alone.”

Whoa. Were these two gorgeous men kind of, sort of,
fighting
over her? She wouldn’t lie. Something about that possibility turned her on in a big way. She’d wanted to be desired and in the blink of an eye, she felt like the only woman in the room.

Oliver’s jaw remained tight until Porter released her and stepped back. “Would you happen to have a business card handy?”

Porter inclined his head and withdrew one from inside the pocket of his button-down shirt. “Why? You in the market for mid-nineteenth century antiques?”

“God, no.” Oliver pocketed the card. “Just putting a name to a face.”

They eyed each other for a moment before Porter turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Eliza punched Oliver in the shoulder. “What the hell was that? I can’t believe you of all people, just cock-blocked me.”

His burst of laughter turned heads. “Easy, bunny. I’m doing you a favor.”

She blew a breath toward the ceiling. “Why do you insist on calling me bunny?”

He bent down and pressed their foreheads together. “Your nose twitches when you get angry.”

“It does not.”

“Don’t worry, it’s adorable just like the rest of you.”

Eliza grumbled in her throat. “Don’t be endearing right now.”

“I can’t find the off switch.” Dimples appeared on either cheek. “Care to perform a search?”

Oh boy. She’d never been required to withstand this much Oliver charm before. Come to think of it, they’d never actually been
alone
together. Caroline was always there, being the reason they were in the same place at the same time. His mouth had never been this close to hers, his voice rumbling for her ears alone, mere inches separating their bodies. She’d already been aroused from dancing with Porter, and now the heavy feeling below her waist only increased with Oliver’s proximity. She kept waiting for him to step back, put some platonic distance between them, but he didn’t. Just continued watching her in that babe-I’m-inside-you-already way that made the flesh between her thighs throb.

Looked like it would be up to her to put the brakes on. Eliza placed a hand on his chest and pushed him away. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

His smile faded in degrees. “What did you come here for tonight?”

“Same thing as you.”

“And that is?” When she didn’t immediately answer, he shook his head. “If you don’t know, you’re not ready.”

Anger built in Eliza’s chest when his words dismantled her pride. Against her will, a small part of her recognized he might even be right, but the concession did nothing to ease her annoyance. She didn’t like Oliver looking at her with sympathy, when a moment ago, she’d finally felt sexy. How dare he take that feeling away from her, along with her newfound courage? He could sleep his way through the female population of Manhattan, but she couldn’t have one single experience of her own?

That final thought gave her an idea. A
terrible
one. Even recognizing that only bad things could come from decisions made while pissed off and mildly intoxicated, she still let it percolate. Oliver knew this world. He was part of it. But none of his conquests ever amounted to anything. His resistance to commitment saw to that. She needed to know what she’d be getting into if she and Porter ever made it up the damn stairs again. She
wanted
to be prepared. What if…

“Teach me.”

Oliver had just taken a sip of his fresh drink. He choked on it now. “What the…what?”

She raised her chin. “If you think I’m not ready, show me, then I will be. You know, teach a man to fish…”

“Bible parables have no place in this discussion.”

“Fair enough.” She leaned in and took a sip of his drink, gaining courage by the way his eyes darkened when she licked the remaining moisture from her upper lip. “Come on, playboy. We’re both adults. I need the experience, and you have enough to fill an encyclopedia.” She thought he flinched, but decided it must have been her imagination. “You don’t have to worry about me getting attached, because, well, I
know
you. And I get the knowledge I need to seduce Porter. It’s totally normal.”

“Eliza, you’re smoking crack.”

She smirked to let him know she’d been joking. Sort of. “The only crack I see is the one in your resolve. You’ve never turned down casual sex. Are you really going to start now?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “You’re not my type.”

“My turn to say ouch.”