FUSE (7 page)

I stare at the napkin as it hangs in the air between us. I should take it. I should call her and I should bury my cock in her. That's who I am. "I'll have to pass."

The surprised look on her face mirrors what I feel inside. I don't turn down women who want me. I never have. I push myself to my feet and adjust the collar of my jacket.

"You don't like blondes?" She takes a step forward so I have an unobstructed view of the top of her perfectly round tits.

"No, that's not it at all."

"Is it because I'm not pretty enough?"

She's gorgeous. It's a question she should never need to ask any man. "No. You're a beautiful woman."

I'm rewarded with a dazzling smile. "What is it then? What's wrong with me?"

"You're not Zoe," I whisper under my breath as I brush past her. "There's only one Zoe."

***

I
peer through the glass of the pub to where she's standing near the bar. The place is packed and the haze on the window is evidence of the heat in the room. She's pulled her long brown hair into a high knot at the top of her head. Her neck is on full display. The curve of it is flawless. I haven't painted anything but abstract watercolors in years, yet looking at her now, standing there with the flush of heat across her brow and her lips pursed together, I wish I could capture that on a canvas.

I want to go inside and talk to her. She's the only person I want to be near right now but I know that I have to control the desperate need I feel. She's hiding something that still pains her. She's protecting her heart and I know, with almost unequivocal certainty that the pain involves a man.

When the door to the pub opens, a group of people pour out onto the sidewalk next to me. It's almost closing time. Zoe will be coming through that door before long and when that happens I need to be as far away from here as I can. I need my bed. I need sleep and I need to find a way to stop wishing that I'd met her before I'd ever met any other woman.

Z
oe

I gaze towards the bank of windows that overlooks the street. It's him. I know that it is. I'd stared at Beck's profile as we rode the subway back into Manhattan from Brooklyn hours ago. I know the shape of his nose and his etched jawline. I watch as he pulls the collar of his jacket up around his neck before he blows softly into his fisted hands. He's cold. I want him to walk through the door and sit down.

I'd been scoping out every chair in the pub since my shift began hours ago hopeful that he'd show up for a drink or two. Even if he just sees me as friend, I like being around him. I loved talking to him on the train today. He'd listened attentively as I told him about my grandfather. He seemed genuinely interested in my stories about my childhood and the confusion I felt as I watched my grandfather slip into his own mind and out of my life.

He looked directly into my eyes when we said goodbye on the street after we emerged from the subway stop. I was tempted to ask him to walk me home but if he knows where I live, that will only complicate things. He wants us to be friends and friends take their time getting to know one another.

I turn back towards a table of couples that has been in the pub all night. Their tab is almost as high as their spirits are. They're celebrating an engagement and I need to go over there to remind them that we're closing in a few minutes.

I adjust my apron before I swing my neck back to look at the window one last time hopeful that I'll finally catch his eye. He's gone. The space where he was standing is empty and all I can see is the traffic whizzing past the front of the pub.

I'm just a friend. That's how he sees me. I can't, for even a brief moment, forget that basic fact.

***

I
fidget back and forth in my boots on the crowded sidewalk in front of the building that houses his studio. I'm here for one reason and one reason only. I need to talk to him and I have no idea how else to reach him.

We've never exchanged cell numbers. I'd found a contact form on his personal website but I doubt that Beck reads any of that email. There's also a phone number but when I'd dialed it, it took me to the office of his manager in Los Angeles.

I've been standing on the street trying to build up the nerve to buzz him for the past ten minutes. It's shortly after eleven and today is the only day this week that I don't have to work or volunteer. After I'm done seeing Beck, I'm heading straight home to work on my application for law school. Just this morning, I'd received an envelope my mother sent to me containing one of the glowing letters of recommendation from a former professor. I almost had my entire application complete and once I send it in, it's going to be the start of my future.

"Zoe?" A male voice calls from behind me. "Zoe, is that you?"

I twist quickly on my heel and almost run straight into Albert, Beck's assistant. He's carrying a paper tray with two cups and a newspaper in one hand.

"Albert," I say his name with a smile. "I'm here to see Beck."

"Is he expecting you?" He furrows his brow as he reaches past me to open the heavy glass door of the building. "He didn't say anything to me about you stopping by when I called him earlier."

I'm instantly nervous. Maybe I was wrong to come here like this. He is Brighton Beck, after all and I'm sure I'm not the first woman he's brought to his studio. The way Albert is looking me over makes me feel like I'm making a huge mistake.

"I just wanted to speak to him briefly." I fish in my purse for my smartphone as I follow him into the lobby of the building. "I would have called him but I don't have his number but I can give you mine to give to him."

Wow. Just wow, Zoe. You couldn't sound any more like a girl experiencing her first crush if you tried. Calm down.

"Why don't you just come up with me?" He tilts his chin towards a bank of elevators. "I'll tell him you're here once we get up there."

I want to remind him that the space is open and Beck is bound to notice me standing behind Albert the moment we walk into the room but I don't. Instead I fall in step beside him and ride the elevator up to the floor where Beck and his studio await.

I don't say a word as I watch him unlock the studio door. The moment I step through over the threshold and into the space I see Beck.

I'm going to hyperventilate. I can feel it. I can't look at him but there's no way in hell that I can look away. He's only wearing a pair of faded jeans. His feet are bare as is his perfectly chiseled torso. The man is gorgeous. He's standing clear across the room, in front of a large canvas, with a paintbrush in his hand.

"Wait for me here." Albert points towards the leather couch in the small reception area. "You can sit if you want."

I don't want to sit. I want to follow him to where Beck is. I want to run my hands over his chest. I want to do things that I haven't wanted to do with a man in months.

I pull on the pendant of the silver necklace I'm wearing as I watch Albert tap him on the shoulder. He turns around quickly and within an instant his eyes are locked onto mine. A wide smile takes over his mouth as he raises his arm towards me.

He's coming over. Shirtless Brighton Beck is walking right towards me and I'm pretty sure my heart just stopped.

B
eck

This is what my dreams are made of. I came to my studio after watching Zoe through the window of the pub last night. I should have gone home to bed, but I wanted to come back to this space because she'd been here only hours earlier. I'd lain down on the couch trying to find sleep but it didn't work so I pulled out my paints, stood in front of one of the canvases and I let myself feel again.

"Zoe." I have to stop myself from embracing her as I near the spot where she's standing. She's wearing a large white sweater, jeans and a colorful scarf around her neck. Her face is bare of make-up and if it's possible, she's more stunning than the first night I saw her.

She covers her mouth with her fingers as her eyes dart across my chest. "I'm sorry to just show up here. I don't have your number."

Fuck. What? How have I not asked for her number yet?

I dive my hand into the front pocket of my jeans and pull out my smartphone. I push it towards her. "Put your number in here for me."

She glances at Albert and then back at me. "You don't have to give it to me. I mean I know you must be careful about who has it."

"Zoe." I tap the top of my phone. "Put your number in there for me and then text yourself so you have it."

She runs her finger over the screen before she opens my contact list. I look at Albert. "Did you find her downstairs?"

He hands me a tall paper cup. "She was in front of the building, sir. I invited her up because I thought you'd want to see her. Do you want me to run back down to get another drink?"

"No." I shake my head slightly when Zoe hands me back the phone. "Zoe can have mine."

I push the paper cup into her hands before she can offer any words of resistance. I watch as her dark brown eyes fall to the cup before she pulls it up to her mouth. She tentatively takes a small sip.

"This is cocoa," she says quietly. "You were going to drink this?"

"It's my new favorite beverage." I reach to take the cup from her hands before I take a swallow and give it back to her. "We can share if that's okay with you."

Her tongue darts over her bottom lip as she pulls her gaze back to my face. "I'd love to share with you."

***

"A
lbert can get you another one of those." I motion towards the cup she just threw into the trash. "I wouldn’t mind sharing another with you."

"I've had my fill of cocoa for the day." She moves closer to the large canvas that I've spent the last few hours working on. "This is really beautiful."

"Coming from someone who doesn't like art, I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not," I tease. "I'm going to pretend that it is."

"It is." She pushes her hand against my arm. "I love it."

"Tell me what you like about it?" I don't move. I don't want to lose the sensation of her skin touching mine even if it's something as genuinely innocent as a friendly tap on the arm.

"It's vibrant." She tilts her head slightly as if she's trying to soak in the painting from another angle. "It tells a story, doesn't it?"

I nod. "In a way every painting has its own unique story to tell."

"What's the story of this one?" she asks as she moves closer. I feel bereft when her hand drops from my arm back to her side.

"It's not really my story to tell." I move so I'm standing right next to her now. "When I paint, I feel things that I have to express on the canvas but when someone looks at my work, the story that they take away from the finished piece is what really counts."

Her eyes dart from the painting to my face. "I have to decide the story myself?"

"In a way you do." I nod as I look into her eyes. "If a painting is right for you, it will touch you inside."

"Inside of here?" She pulls both of her hands to her chest. "I'll feel something for it here?"

"Exactly."  I reach past her to point at the lower right corner of the canvas. "I name each piece when I'm done. I paint the name right in this spot but many people who purchase my work don't see what I see within the brush strokes."

"What's this one called?"

I stare down at her. There's no way that she can know that she's inspired me to paint this. "I haven't chosen a name for it yet. I won't until it's done."

"It's not done?" Her brows rise. "It looks done to me."

"That's why I'm the artist and you're the lawyer." I push against her shoulder with my bicep.

"I will be a lawyer one day." She pulls her eyes from the panting to my face. "I'm going to be such a good lawyer."

"I have no doubt that you're going to be the best at whatever you do."

Z
oe

I've been at his studio for close to two hours now and still haven't brought up the reason for my visit. I should. I want to but I'm enjoying listening to him explain the intricacies of every painting that's hanging on the wall.

"I'm going for lunch soon, sir." Albert suddenly appears next to us. "Can I get you or Zoe anything?"

Beck is just about to open his mouth to speak before I interrupt him. "I'm going to take Beck to lunch."

"You are?" His eyes dart from my face to Albert's. "I guess that you don't have to get me anything, Albert. I already have plans."

I smile at the playful lilt in his voice. He's charming. I'm well aware that he probably knows it but there are flashes of a man who is just naturally charismatic. I saw that just now and it's endearing in a way that surpasses the accomplishments and accolades. At a very basic level, he's just a man who knows how to paint. I doubt many people in his world see him that way anymore.

"I'm sorry if I made an assumption," I whisper when I think that Albert is far enough from us that he can't hear me. "I should have asked if you are free."

"Do I look like I have a lot to do today?" He throws his arms out to his sides. "You can take me to lunch today or any day. I'd never refuse that."

Again, it's the charm but I take something more from the words. I can tell that he likes hanging out with me. I saw it yesterday when we rode the train to Brooklyn and I see it again now. He's the most unlikely friend I'm ever going to have. I already know that and I'm also smart enough to know that this friendship may be fleeting and short lived. I'm filling a gap for him. I'm certain that it has to do with the fact that his girlfriend married his best friend. I don't care right now though. All I do care about is that my newest friend wants to go to lunch with me.

"What do you want to eat?" I ask without thinking as he pulls a t-shirt onto his body. "I don't know this area so I can't suggest a place."

"I know the perfect spot for us to have lunch." He grabs my hand as he walks swiftly towards the reception area to where I left my coat. "Put on your coat, I'll grab my stuff and we can head out."

***

I
can't do it. My feet are stuck in place. Beck's at least ten feet in front of me now. I can tell by his stride that he hasn't realized I'm not beside him anymore. Why would he? He's busily eating the hot dog that he bought when we exited the taxi. I'm still holding tightly to mine as I stare at the horizon and the man standing not more than twenty feet away from me who resembles Tim.