Just One Night: Part 2 (5 page)

Jennifer is nearly here and yet she’s looking up at the ceiling. I cast my gaze heavenward to see if I’ve missed something important, but all I see are mouldings and a chandelier. Perhaps she’s keen on faceted crystal. I recall her dress selection having several blinky things sewn to it.

“Put on your happy face, brother, and help me land this fish.”

“She’s not a fish,” I say, instantly annoyed with my brother’s put-on adolescent humor. He loves to do this for the sole purpose of getting under my skin.

“Touchy, touchy,” he says, just before lifting his glass and holding it out to the approaching ladies. “Good evening. We meet again.” His eyes are first on the blond and then on Jennifer. I move to the side and step on his toe.

“Och
, watch it, graceful,” he says, scowling at me. Then he’s back to smiling. “Fancy a glass of the sparkly stuff?” he asks them both.

I catch Jennifer shaking her head no out of the corner of my eye. That chandelier is quite lovely.

“My friend is only drinking wine,” says the second girl. “She’s allergic to champagne.”

“Allergic?” I ask, before I can stop myself. I stare at the blond, focusing on her so I won’t be caught gobsmacked in front of the woman I was never supposed to see again.

“Crazy, right? She and I met when she tossed her drink right down my dress about ten years ago.”

“You’d think I would learn,” Jennifer says, laughing with a slightly shrill tone.

“Yes, right. So, beautiful lady, fancy a turn about the room?” Edward asks, holding out his elbow.

Everyone one of us but him freezes, looking at him. It’s not clear who he means to take him up on his offer.
Please don’t take his arm, Jennifer. Don’t do it.

“Well, don’t everyone leap at once,” he says, put out. “I’m not a leper, I promise.”

“Take care of her for me,” Mia says to me, sticking her arm through Edward’s proffered elbow. “And make sure she doesn’t drink any champagne.” She’s gone with Edward in tow before I can even blink my eyes.

An awkward silence ensues.

“Nice
chandalier
,” I say, affecting a French accent for the last word. If I could slap myself without looking the lunatic, I would. For some reason I slip into French when I’m at the outer limits of nervousness.

“What?” she asks, as well she should. I’m ready for the loony bin with only one sentence between us.

“The large lighting fixture above our heads. Grand, isn’t it?” Burning cheeks is not a sensation I’m well familiar with. Perhaps I’m coming down with a fever.

“Yes. It’s nice. And big.”

A lightening quick glance at her face tells me she regrets the choice of words as much as I wish they were intentional.

“Oh, sod it,” I say under my breath, looking over at the cheese cubes. Building my nerve takes monumental effort. I want to kiss this woman. I shouldn’t, but I do. There. I’ve said it to myself. Now I just need to say it aloud.

A waiter hands her a glass of red wine as he passes by.

“Excuse me?” she asks.

“Sorry?” I finally look at her. Really look at her. She is simply breathtaking. My memory did not do her justice this past week. John Thomas has come alive in my trousers, making me long for the jacket I’ve left with the coat check girl.

“Why are you apologizing?”

Is that a hint of a smile I see? “Pardon?”

“Oh, so I’m pardoning you now.” She tilts her head. “Whatever have you done to need an official pardon?”

Thank the Queen Mother and all her blessed princelings, she’s joking with me. Perhaps this isn’t such a disaster after all.

“Many, many things,” I say, “but none of which I will admit to.”

She stares at the floor, letting the silence come over us once again.

“I say …” My mouth has once again taken charge of the evening, “you haven’t seen a girl walking around with a single shoe have you?”

She looks up, her expression too confusing for me to interpret. “Why do you ask?”

I almost reach out to touch her but at the last minute, I reach up and push my hair out of my face instead. “It could be that I’ve a shoe in need of a foot.”

“How do you know it’s my size?” she asks.

Yes, she did in fact ask
that
question. And now John Thomas is on full alert, ready to go, high the ho and merry we will go. If only she gives me a sign.

“I’ve an eye for these things. I believe it would be a perfect fit.”

“Not too big?” she asks, a twinkle in her eye. A twinkle! A God’s honest twinkle and possibly a sparkle as well. I’m sure of it.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” I say, feeling every inch the man. I believe she’s practicing the fine art of penis flattery and I’m always game for a bit of that.

“Not too small?” she asks, biting her lip when she’s through speaking.

I’m about to come undone from that little movement alone, but I play it as cool as a cucumber on a chilly spring day. “Certainly not, don’t be absurd. Small would never be an adjective to apply in my presence.” My mock outrage is being picked up by the other people round the buffet, so I calm my features and speak in a softer tone. “Be careful, girl.”

“Be careful? Of what?” She runs her fingertip around the outside rim of her glass just before tilting her head down to lick a drop of wine off her finger. Her eyes never leave mine.

A shiver moves down my rod and settles in my ballsack. Tonight is going to be one hell of a torture, but strangely, I find myself looking forward to it. “Be careful of biting off more than you can chew,” I say, angling her to face our host who approaches.

“Biting off more than I can chew?” she says so only I will hear. “I can’t even imagine what you might be talking about.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Jennifer

I HAVE BEEN POSSESSED BY a demon slut. That is the only explanation for the words that are sliding out of my mouth and the sheer, naked confidence that I feel coursing through my veins. I am She-rah, listen to me roar!

I leave William with my parting shot and face Malcolm. He appears just a tad cranky for some reason, his tone coming out curt. “Would you like to take your seats? Dinner will be served in a moment.”

“Jennifer,” I hear in a near-whisper behind me as Malcolm moves away to speak to his other guests.

I look over my shoulder at the man who’s been haunting my dreams for a week. I cannot believe I’m actually looking at his face and not a picture of him on Google. “Yes?”

“My apologies if this is … awkward for you.”

I lose a little of my fire. His words make me feel silly, like I had no business being flirty just then. I shrug. “It’s fine. I’m totally fine.” I smile, like I don’t have two gallons of orange juice sloshing around in my stomach. “Bon appetite.”

He nods his head at me and moves around the table, leaving me to stand in front of a seat that has
Mia + One
written on it.

Mia is suddenly at my side and whispering loudly in my ear. “Don’t sit there!”

“But it says …” I point to the place card but she whips it off the table before I can finish my sentence. “You are sitting
here
,” she says, quickly shuffling the little tented cards around before anyone else approaches.
Mia + One
is now two seats down from its original position, right next to Malcolm.

“But …”

“Just do it!” she says, and then she grins like a lunatic as she pushes me away from her a little. “Malcolm, hi!”

“Mia.” He takes her by the hand and frowns. “I was coming to show you to your seat.”

“No need, I’m already here.” She grins even more as she points to the crooked table card that has her name on it, sitting on my former plate. I worry that she will spontaneously and permanently wrinkle with the effort of feigning her extreme happiness.

I take Malcolm by the elbow. “Show me where to sit, Galahad. I’m completely and totally lost without you.” Now it’s my turn to grin like a loon. Could I be any more dorky? No, I don’t think so. The lengths I won’t go to in order to save a friend… I’m totally getting lunch out of this deal. At least a lunch and possibly a spa day.

Malcolm indulges me with a watery smile. “I would hazard a guess that you’re sitting next to me tonight.” He glares at Mia once before leading me away.

I breathe a sigh of relief as he settles me into a chair at his left and disappears again, but my feeling of triumph only lasts about two seconds. That’s how long it takes for William to sit down next to me on my other side.

He pulls out my chair without saying a word.

I take it silently, settling my napkin in my lap so I can busy myself with doing something other than having a heart attack.

“So …” He clears his throat. “How long have you been friends with Malcolm?”

“We’re not friends,” I say, cringing at how fast it comes out. I sound desperately scared.

“Are you stalking me?” he asks.

I turn to him, outraged at the idea. It’s then that I catch him grinning and it takes some of the embarrassment away. “No. I’m way too busy to stalk men.”

His expression goes dark and he hesitates a moment before responding. “Busy having one night stands?”

I lift my chin. “Yes. Busy doing that.”

“I see.” He puts his napkin on his lap and acknowledges the person sitting next to him on the other side.

I stare straight ahead, watching as Mia engages in an animated conversation with the man I can only assume is William’s brother. She looks a little riled up. I cross my fingers under the table, hoping she gets angry at him and storms off. I will be right on her tail when she does, too. Talk about awkward. I was not cut out for flirting or playing this … game or whatever this is. I am completely out of my league.

Waiters arrive as people are seated and baskets of rolls are placed on the table.

“Would you be so kind as to pass me the bread?” William asks, way too close to my ear.

I nearly have a stroke when I feel his hand on my leg. Am I imagining that? No, I am not. His fingers are long and hot. I can feel them through my dress. Breathing becomes difficult.

“Of course,” I say, reaching over and taking the basket, dropping it on his plate with a very ungraceful bang.

Everyone stops talking and looks at me.

“Oopsy. Dropped it,” I say, cringing.

William chuckles and I glare at him, feigning playing with my napkin so I can push his hand off my thigh. “Stop it, perv,” I whisper. “I’m here to eat dinner.”

He takes a roll and spreads it open. “I wish I were here to eat you,” he says in a low voice, never once looking at me.

My heart leaps into my throat. “What did you just say?” People are taking their seats around us and pulling apart dinner rolls while William continues to act as though we’re having a perfectly normal dinner conversation.

“I didn’t get the chance to do that, did I? I suppose it was because our evening ended prematurely.”

That makes me cranky. “No, it didn’t, actually. It went exactly according to the agreement.”

“Technically speaking, it didn’t.” He spreads some butter on one side of his bread. “Just one night is an
entire
night, not just a few hours.”

“So what are you saying?” I pick up my roll and try to break it open all sexy-like but fail miserably when the roll is too hard. Flakes of it fracture off and land all around my plate.

“I suppose I’m saying that I didn’t get my money’s worth.”

My jaw drops open as his words sink in. I nearly growl at him. “Are you calling me a prostitute? Because I didn’t ask you to pay for that dress, in case you’ve forgotten.”

His hand drops below the table and squeezes my thigh again. “I’m saying nothing of the sort.” His hand travels up closer to the edge of my panties. My dress is going with his hand. “I’m actually trying to flirt with you but it appears I’ve botched it.”

I try to chew my role in a way that doesn’t tell the whole world that I’m getting felt up during the appetizer portion of our meal. “No, you’re doing just fine.” I can feel my face going red with heat.

“Perhaps that’s why you left me so early last week-end.”

“What do you mean?” I glance up at Mia and she’s smiling at Edward. Malcolm’s pretending not to care but he’s not doing a very good job of it.

I don’t give a hoot about any of that right now, though. The only thing I can think about is wondering where his hand will go next. It’s not like it can go anywhere with all these people here, but that doesn’t stop my mind from going crazy.

“Well, apparently my technique left something to be desired,” he says.

Does he really think that? I feel terrible. I drop my roll to the table in my haste to reassure him. “No, no, not at all.” When I realize that I’m talking way too loud I take a moment to calm myself and adjust my volume down about four notches. “Your … technique was perfect. Great. I mean, really good.”

“So which was it? Perfect? Great? Or just really good.”

I can’t help but smile. Anyone looking at his expression would assume we were talking about the weather and not how well he does the wild thing. “It was perfect.”

“I don’t believe you. Perfect sex would have encouraged a second round.”

I’m not sure what to say to this. I knew even then that a second round would have been my undoing. I would have shouted out stupid things in the throws of sexual ecstasy and begged him to see me again. That would have been awful. I saved us both that night by leaving so early.

His hand leaves my leg and comes up to the table. “Not to worry. I shan’t pressure you to make up the difference. I’ll just take my lumps and move on.”

I should probably let it go at that, but I can’t. I don’t want to. “Make up the difference?”

He glances at me, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Finish what you started.”

I lift an eyebrow in challenge.

“I dare you,” he says.

My heart skips a beat. “You’re daring me?”

He pauses and looks up, as if considering his actions. “Why yes, I believe I am. The word dare was probably a dead giveaway, though.”

I can’t stop smiling. I’m trying really hard not to, because being cool right now would be the best way to handle things, but I’m just not cool. I’ve tried all my life to be cool and I’ve always failed. Besides … he’s basically telling me he wants to have sex again, and didn’t I place an ad to have more sex? That’s something to smile about. He’s just giving me what I want, what I need. It’s not like he’s promising me roses or a second date. This is just the end of the one date we agreed to.