L.A. Fire (13 page)

  I was desperate for that dress,
but I had no desire to run into Ziggy, or wake Angela up. Then again, she had
to be at work in an hour, so maybe it was a perfect time to act as her human
alarm clock. Cringing, I knocked softly, then a little louder. I heard some
rustling inside, and then clothes being put on, and then the door creaked and
there was Angela, sleepy eyed, her hair a rats nest, a tell tale sign of an
afternoon of hard banging.

  “Hey Ser,” she said, “I’m kinda
trying to catch up on my beauty sleep.” She sounded grumpy, and I didn’t blame
her.

  “I’m
so
sorry, Ange, but
I’ve got a date coming in twenty minutes. I have nothing to wear, and the
apartment is a complete mess. Plus, I thought you had to be at work in an
hour.”

  She looked at her watch, and then
groaned. “You’re right,” she said. Just then Ziggy came to the door, wearing
just boxers, no t-shirt. He yawned and stretched his arms, making the chain
link tattoo around his bicep ripple with the flexing of his muscles. “Hi there
ladybug,” he said in a singsong voice, leaning provocatively against the
doorframe. I cringed. Ladybug had been Rob’s nickname for me. “We missed you
last night. You disappeared with that suit. I thought you were into bad boys,
baby cakes.”

  “You have no idea what I’m into,”
I said.

  “Looks like the suit was a big
roller, too. Buying you a retardedly expensive bottle of bubbles. Is he your
new sugar daddy?”

  Since I broke up with Rob, there
had been tension between me and Ziggy, but he’d never been so directly
aggressive with me. “Some guys like to treat a girl well, instead of getting
her all coked up and then just banging her senseless. But, you know, to each their
own.”

  Angela’s jaw dropped open. She
looked back and forth between the two of us, and then turned to glare at me.
“Watch it, Ser. You’re totally crossing the line.”

  I instantly felt awful. Angela
knew what I thought about Ziggy; she knew I thought he was a bad influence, and
that she could do so much better, but calling him out on his bad behavior right
in front of her was totally stepping over my bounds. I put my hands up, and
said “I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s not my place.”

  Then she turned to Ziggy and
said, “I think you better go.”

  He looked irritated. “You’re
siding with her, babe?”

  She shrugged noncommittally.

  “Are you pissed at me?” he
asked, his voice full of disbelief.

  “No,” she said in a flat tone. “I
just need to get ready for work. I’ll see you later at the bar.”

  He nodded, apparently satisfied.
Then he disappeared into the room, and a few moments later, he returned fully
clothed.  He gave Angela a long, possessive kiss, then glared at me and
pushed past me, heading for the door. I watched him walk through the front
door, and then slam it behind him.

  Angela crossed her arms over her
chest and gave me a pissy look. “Seriously?” she said, “You drag me out of bed,
and then you insult my boyfriend in front of me?”

  “I’m sorry, Ange. He really
pissed me off.”

  She nodded, then shrugged. “This
date really better be worth it,” she said, her eyes softening. “Come on, she
said, “Let’s go get you that dress.”

  When we emerged into the living
room, she looked around, then shot me an apologetic look. “I know how much you
hate my messiness. And, you’re right. This place looks like a total hellhole
right now, but I don’t have time to clean up.”

  I stared down at a condom wrapper
and wrinkled my nose. “Could you at least get rid of these?” I asked, pointing
to the ripped foil packet lying on the ground.

  She looked sheepish, then nodded.
“I’ll also get rid of the pizza boxes, and hide the dirty dishes under the
sink.”

  I nodded. “Gross. But It works.”
We both started laughing.

  “I’ll tell you what,” she said.
“If you hurry up and get dressed, I might even have time to do your makeup.”

  Angela was such a skilled makeup
artist. She took lessons back when she used to model, because she often found
herself working in low budget photo shoots where she had to do her hair and
makeup herself. I looked at her gratefully. “I love you,” I said. “You’re the
best.”

  She smirked at me and said, “I
love you too, bitch,” then disappeared into the kitchen to hide the dirty
dishes.

***

  At 7:58, I was sitting in front
of my full length mirror, letting Angela finish with the final touches to my
hair. Then she stepped back and admired her handiwork. “God, Ser. You look absolutely
gorgeous. This guy is going have a hard on the moment he lays eyes on you.”

  I glanced at her appreciatively,
stood up, and examined myself from all angles. Angela had really outdone
herself. The dress was beautiful. It was long-sleeved, but off the shoulder. It
scooped down low enough to hint at a little cleavage, and my tan skin peeked
suggestively through all of the lace. I had on a chunky onyx necklace, which
hung in the dip between my collarbones, calling attention to the subtle rises
and dips of my neckline. The dress was long, but the slit ran to mid-thigh, so
when I took a step my leg was exposed. Angela had tied my hair up into an
elegant chignon, leaving a few strands down to frame my face. My lips were
painted scarlet, and with all the smoky eye shadow, my green eyes looked fierce
and catlike. I’d rummaged into the back of my closet, and found a pair of black
suede Vera Wang, with a bold, chunky, three inch heel that gave a well needed
boost to my height.     

  Just then the buzzer rang, and my
heart jumped into my throat. “Oh my god, he’s here.” My pulse pounded in my
temples, and I started having second thoughts. There was no question Julian
McGregor knew how to drive me wild, and even from the small taste of his sexual
prowess I’d experienced, I knew he’d be mind-blowing in bed. But he said he
wanted all of me, not just my body, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to give it to
him. Rob had shattered my heart into pieces, and ever since I’d recovered from
his betrayal, a wall had gone up in me. A wall I didn’t think any man would
ever be able to tear down.  

  My needs, my wants, my secrets,
my deepest thoughts, those were mine to keep, only to be shared with a few good
friends. Friends were easier. They shared things with you, but you didn’t need
to meld your life with theirs. You still had your own, separate life, never so
entwined with them that you didn’t know where you ended and they began. Rob and
I had shared our dreams, until our separate dreams became one dream, and
somehow I lost myself in him in a way I never wanted to lose myself in another
person ever again. I’d invested so much in Rob’s success; promoting his shows,
handing out flyers, sending his demos out to radio stations, attending all of
his shows. I got so wrapped up in his dream, that I forgot my own, barely
investing any time in my school work, even though I knew that keeping up my GPA
was crucial for landing my dream job. I was smart. I was able to put in a
minimum amount of maintenance work and still manage to achieve top grades. But
somehow, I’d lost myself. When I caught him cheating, I was so angry at him,
but I was even angrier at myself. I’d told myself I’d never turn into my
mother, never be the kind of woman who sacrificed her dreams for a man, but
that’s exactly what I’d done.

  I took a deep breath. It was just
a date. And if I ended up in bed with him, fine. But there’s no way I’d let
this man wiggle his way into my heart. I just couldn’t take that chance. I’d
fought hard to get myself back. I wasn’t going to give myself up again.

  “Ser?” Angela was looking at me
with concern etched all over her face. “Are you going to get that?”

  I sighed, then nodded.

  “Listen,” she said. “I’m taking
off in fifteen minutes, but I’m heading to my room now. You know, to give you
guys some privacy. I can meet him some other time.”

  Once again, I felt grateful.
Introducing him to Angela would make him more real, and I wasn’t ready to have
him be more than a private fantasy. I buzzed him up, and a minute later, he was
knocking on my door.

  I took another deep breath and
opened the door. “Hey Julian,” I said, giving him a tight, nervous smile. He
slowly raked his eyes over my body, and as they passed over my chest, and then
the slit of my dress, it was like a fire was lit in them. He looked ready to
devour me then and there. He snapped his gaze back to mine, his eyes still
flaring. “You look so delicious it’s obscene,” he said, in a mock accusing
tone. “Every man in the restaurant will be fantasizing about undressing you.
You’re going to make grown men weep, knowing they can look all they want, but
only I can touch.” And as if to prove his point, he ran a finger along my
cheek, then through the peach fuzz on the back of my neck. My belly started to
flutter, and I shivered with pleasure.

  I was already putty in his hands.
I had to get a grip. I cleared my throat, and stilled his talented finger with
my hand. “Careful, Mr. McGregor. You may have had me begging for more this
afternoon, but that doesn’t mean you have extended exclusive rights to my
body.” He looked at me curiously. “I’m not your possession, or your sexual
slave.”

  He grinned wickedly. “Not yet,
but you will be.”

  I shot him a haughty, challenging
look, and then took in the perfection that was standing in front of me. God, he
looked amazing tonight. He had on a navy silk Armani suit, perfectly tailored
to showcase his tall, powerful frame, with a cream linen dress shirt
underneath. The top two buttons were left open, showing a hint of his tan skin.
I realized that though I’d felt his hard muscles pressed up against me, I
hadn’t yet seen his upper body in all its naked glory. I had a sudden flash of
me underneath him, pressed against his naked chest, my nails digging hard into
his back.

  He was right. I was done for. But
that was fine with me. He’d have my body, maybe even full command over it in
bed. I had to admit the thought of that turned me on. But he’d only have my
body. The most intimate parts of me I’d keep safely locked up.
     

  “You sure are a cocky one, aren’t
you Mr. McGregor,” I finally said, my voice steady and matter-of-fact.

  He looked pensive for an instant.
“Not cocky,” he said. “Just confident.”

  “Think you have me all figured
out, do you?”

  His eyes became soft. “No, Sarah.
I have an idea of you sketched out, but I’m still missing a great deal.”

  He leaned in so his mouth was
next to my ear. “You can try to hide, Ms. Stevens. But I promise you, you won’t
be successful. I’ll draw you out, eventually. I’m a very persuasive and patient
man.”

  As he pulled back, he brushed his
lips against my cheek, so lightly, so sensuously, I felt another thrilling
shiver pass through my frame, and my lower lip began to quiver. When he saw it,
his eyes glimmered momentarily with unabashed desire, but then he gained
control over his expression; his eyes became still and unreadable, and his face
became impassive and neutral. “Come,” he said, holding out his arm. “Our
reservation is for eight-thirty.”

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “West Bistro,” he said, naming an
outrageously exquisite restaurant serving five course meals at four hundred
dollars a plate. I only knew this because one of my dad’s clients took him
there when they were closing a business deal, and my dad raved about it
afterward, saying it was by far the best meal he had ever eaten.

  I raised an eyebrow at him as I
was locking up my apartment. “Isn’t that a little . . . extravagant?”

  “I told you,” he said. “I like to
spoil my women. Now come,” he said, reaching for my hand. “We don’t want to be
late.”

***

  When we pulled up to
West
Bistro
twenty minutes later, all eyes on the street were on us. And the
reason was obvious. Julian had decided to pull out his silver Ferrari this
evening, and during the whole ride to the restaurant I literally felt like I
was in the bat mobile. People were rubber necking on every street we drove
down, and even though the windows were tinted, I still felt self-conscious.