Insipid (9 page)

THE CHILL OF
the November air seeps through my legs as I walk briskly towards the office dragging my suitcase behind me. This is it. The first day of our week. Or the week that he’s here. And I’m an idiot for wearing a dress in this cold weather. I packed as if I was going on a long trip, mocking myself whenever I remembered that I was just going to be taking a hotel in the city. I’ve been waiting for this week for so long. I missed him. Whatever part of him I missed, I have yet to figure out. I’ve completely abandoned my original plan of staying away from him. When he called me about his upcoming visit, I just couldn’t pass it up.

My phone rings right as I struggle to get my suitcase through the revolving doors that lead to the office lobby.

“Hi! Are you here?” I squeak excitedly. No holds barred this week. I need to show him just how much this time together means to me. I’ve completely shocked myself when I realize that I’m following my heart. For once. Lord help me. I’ve never done this before.

“I am. I’m actually a block away from your office. I can see you from the window.”

He’s kidding, of course. I roll my eyes and shake my head as I delay getting in with the rest of the employees. “What hotel are you at?”

“The W. And you?”

“Lucas! That’s right across the street from my office! Didn’t we agree that you would find a hotel that’s farther away to avoid being seen?” I exclaim under my breath, acknowledging the people around me with a slight nod of my head.

“Jade, Barcelona is a smaller place and I don’t even get seen there. Relax. Everything will be fine. You worry too much. Where are you staying?”

There’s no point in arguing with him. I’m too enamored to think clearly. “Across the street from you on the opposite side.”

“Oh yes, I know that hotel. Cool. You’re getting good at these secret missions,” he teases. “So I’ll call you later?”

“Yes, call me later.”

The morning drags on as people shuttle in and out of my office. Questions. Issues. Complaints. Everyone seems to want to unload on me these days. I sit at my desk trying to concentrate and attempting to direct my attention to the piles of papers in front of me.

Finally, it’s lunch time. I unhook my purse and don my coat, zigzagging through the maze of cubicles until I reach the elevator bank. I’m feeling quite excited as I take a ride to the ground floor where Leya is waiting patiently on one of the marble benches scrolling through her phone.

“Ready?” She smiles as she gets up to follow me out the door.

We find ourselves at a swanky lingerie shop called La Perla on Michigan Avenue. Pat, my personal shopper, is waiting by the counter with a sly smile on her face.

“I’m ready for you,” she says as she leads me to the fitting room. “So what’s with the emergency need to purchase some undergarments?”

Leya can’t help but release a wicked laugh.

“Nothing,” I reply. “Just ran out of good stuff to wear.” I blush hotly at my lame defense.

“I’ll be out here, Jade. Get busy.” Leya takes a seat in front of the fitting room while I draw the curtains. I look at the outfits that Pat has laid out for me. Lace lingerie in all colors, some bodice-type full length slips, wireless bras, bustiers, nightgowns, underwear. I try on the different colors and styles. The one I can’t stop staring at myself in is a corset-type outfit in a gorgeous plum color. I peek out from between the curtains and motion for Leya to come inside.

“Holy shit, Jade! Are you sure you’re 42? That body. You are smoking hot!” Leya exclaims. “He’s never going to stand a chance with that one. Sold!” She laughs heartily.

Leya’s thundering voice causes Pat to come barging into the fitting room.

“You think?” I slip another see-through nightie over my head. “What about this one?”

“That’s definitely you,” Pat declares proudly. “It brings out the color of your stunning eyes.”

That settles it. Flattery gets Pat everywhere, and I walk out of that store with a thousand dollars in beautiful outfits and a priceless infusion of self-confidence and hope.

By six o’clock that evening, he hasn’t called. I stay in the office, not knowing whether I should go to my hotel to freshen up or remain there in case he wants to see me earlier.

Who am I kidding? I can’t work.

I find myself glancing at my window repeatedly to check out my reflection in the glass.
Why would he want to hang out with someone as old as me?
I don’t blame him for not calling. Maybe he’s changed his mind.
Two hours later, I finally give up. I take my suitcase and trek to my hotel feeling stupid and rejected.

He doesn’t call.

I order room service, drink two glasses of wine, and fall asleep.

I’M CRANKY ON
Tuesday morning. All-out, full-on temperamental. Everyone stays as far as possible from me at work. I keep my door closed for most of the day to complete a pressing project. I want to schedule a trip back to La Perla to return everything I purchased the day before.
What was I thinking?
I start to analyze everything that has transpired between where we are today and his phone call about his upcoming visit.
One night? He was going to try to see me for one night?

I muster up all my energy to think clearly about this situation. Where have I been for the past few weeks? I need to get a grip on this now. It ends right here. I’m too old for this shit.

Or not.

“Hello?” I answer on the third ring.

“You’re mad.”

“No, I’m not. Why should I be?” I fiddle with my pens and doodle on the pad of paper in front of me.

“We ended up working until past two and I didn’t want to wake you in the middle of the night. I couldn’t break free to sneak a call without everyone being in the room with me.” His voice is gentle and conciliatory.

“That’s fine,” I reply, though my tone is in direct conflict with my words.

“Well, it’s not. I can’t take being this close to you without seeing you. I’m going to wrap up by eight this evening. Where would you like to meet?”

“Why don’t you just finish what you’re doing and I’ll see you some other time?”

“What? No, Jade! Tonight. Please see me tonight,” he insists.

I pause for a few seconds. So much for ending this.

“Okay. Nine?”

“Where?”

“Somewhere far away from this office.”

“Why don’t I meet you at the place a block away and we can just decide where to go then?”

“Sounds good. See you later.”

DESPITE ALL THE
outfits I brought over with me for the week, I decide not to bother changing into something more appropriate. I’m wearing a casual pair of leggings, a long sweater, and some flat riding boots. All he’s seen me in are work clothes—even those leather pants that one day were matched with a business jacket—so this one should turn him off, I tell myself. The fact that I’m not going to get all gussied up to see him puts us in the friend zone.

The bar across the street is unusually dark and full of people. By the time I arrive, he’s standing by the door, waiting for me. I want to run into his arms, but obviously, I don’t. All I can think about is the fact that there might be people from work who will recognize us.

“Hi.” He steps forward and kisses me on both cheeks.

“Hi.”

“You look gorgeous. Your hair is longer.” His face is close to mine, just staring into my eyes and holding his gaze frozen on me. His right hand carefully reaches out to touch the side of my head and he takes a lock of hair and twirls them between his fingers.

“Old,” I state, suddenly very conscious of the lines on my face, the wrinkles around my eyes. Maybe I shouldn’t have smiled so much when I was younger. I’m certainly paying for that now. I try to deflect his attention by looking away.

“You’re timeless. Ravishing,” he whispers as he brushes his nose against mine.

“You look great too,” I say, meaning it more than anything I’ve said so far. He’s still as gorgeous as ever. I suddenly feel inadequate, small and insignificant next to someone like him.

He laces his fingers in mine and leads me through a labyrinth of booths full of people as he searches for an empty space.

“I thought we were going to go somewhere else?” I ask nervously.

“I can’t wait to sit next to you and catch up. Don’t worry, it’s dark. No one will see us. And to be honest with you, it’s too fucking cold to walk outside,” he rebuts confidently, pulling me to sit at the last booth by the corner.

The view of the city from this rooftop is mesmerizing. He hunkers down next to me and we both shed our coats. He immediately holds me by the waist and pulls me closer to him.

“Hi,” he murmurs, skimming his nose against my neck. I close my eyes and take the time to feel his lips against my skin. “Take this off, it’s in the way,” he commands as he tugs on my scarf.

“No. I’m freezing. And Luke, there are people from work here!” I stiffen up and pull away slightly.

He gives me a bothered look. “Let’s order some wine. That might relax you a bit.” He motions for the server to approach us.

She’s blonde and young and perky. She hands him the wine list and he takes forever to look it over.

“Their wine is shit here,” he grumbles. “They’re cheap.”

“Just pick one, Luke. It doesn’t make a difference to me. Let’s order some appetizers too. I’m starving,” I say, a bit impatient about the way he’s taking the menu so seriously.

He hands it back to the server immediately. “Your Spanish wines are limited. Please just bring us the best bottle of Rioja that you have and one of each of the dishes on the list of the small hot plates.” He turns away from her dismissively and snatches my hand.

Our server doesn’t leave. She continues to stand at the same spot, gaping at him. “Oh! Are you Spanish? I love that accent of yours! It sounds so sexy.”

He completely ignores her and strikes up a conversation with me until she walks away. I don’t even have time to roll my eyes at him before she’s back. And this time she brings a friend with her.

“My friend here speaks Spanish,” she says in her high-pitched cutesy voice. “She can translate for you if you need her to.” Her friend nods in agreement and giggles at the same time.

“As you can see, I speak perfect English,” he responds tersely. “And we’re kind of in a hurry, so can you please just get us our order? You’re both making my girlfriend here feel very uncomfortable. She’s about to fly at both of you and scratch your eyes out.”

“Luke!” I squeak, delivering a light swat on his thigh. He covers my hand, brings it to his lips, kisses it, and returns it back to where he wants it. I keep it there. The tension between us is so evident that it frightens the servers away. They disappear in a matter of seconds and soon they’re nowhere to be found.

“Jealous?” he teases.

“No. Why should I be?” I joke back. “But I do want to warn you that those two aren’t going to be getting a tip from us tonight.”

He laughs heartily at my comment.
There go those lopsided lips and that sexy, husky laugh.

“I knew it! God help those who mess with Jade Richmond!” he declares as he scoots his body down, stretches out his legs, and rests his head on my shoulders. Slowly, he leans in to plant tiny kisses along the side of my chin, trailing along until he teases my lips with a slight brush of his. The energy in the bar is turned up drastically when the DJ starts to play dance tunes. We sit in silence for a while until he stands up and takes my hand. “Dance?”

“No thanks.”

“Oh, come on. It’s Pitbull. We have to.”

“Pit who?” I joke with a puzzled look on my face.

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t respond. Gingerly, he pulls me by the hand until I find myself following him on to the dance floor. We move together. I keep up with him. He looks so young, so full of energy. He gawks at me, surprised at the fact that I can dance. The floor is so crowded that I lose him for a minute. There are two men surrounding me, dancing with me, but I don’t pay any attention to it. I keep dancing. I’m lost. In every sense of the word.

He finds me and makes no qualms about hooking me by the waist and pulling me close to him. “You’re so sexy I can hardly stand it,” he gushes in my ear. “And you can move.”