Redesigned (13 page)

“You went to cotillion,” I say as he opens the door to the restaurant.

He grins, amused. “What gives me away?”

“Your impeccable manners, for starters.”

He winks. “And you haven’t even seen my foxtrot yet.”

I can’t help laughing. He really is amusing.

When I was in the seventh grade, I went to my one and only cotillion and thought I’d entered a fairytale land. The boys wore suits and the girls wore pretty dresses. Mine was borrowed, of course.

A friend of mine took me along and loaned me her dress. And for two hours I had a taste of what it was like to live somewhere other than in the Land of Nothing. But those two hours were all it took to show me the goal to which I needed to aspire.

Of course, when my mother found out where I’d been, she was furious. “We ain’t those highfalutin’ people, Carol Ann. The sooner you wise up, the happier you’ll be.”

Part of me still desperately wants to prove her wrong.

Brandon’s made reservations and the hostess seats us when he gives his name. The restaurant is dimly lit and tealight candles flicker in glass centerpieces.

He orders a bottle of wine. The sommelier opens the bottle and lets Brandon smell the cork before the he pours the wine into our glasses. I’m in awe. I’ve only seen this done on TV or the movies. My old boyfriend was lucky to be able to afford Red Lobster, not that I complained. We’re in college. My end game has always been life after graduation.

Brandon charms me all through dinner and after we order desert, I clasp my hands and rest them on the table. “How is it that you’re not with your girlfriend anymore?”

He grimaces. “She found someone else.”

I try to contain my surprise. Brandon seems perfect, but now I wonder what hidden flaw sent his girlfriend running off with someone else.

“She found a girlfriend.”

“Ouch.” But this news makes me feel better about him. Contrary to what some idiots think, there’s no way he drove her to it. It means he might be perfect after all, even though I know there’s no such thing.

“So what specialty do you want to study?” I ask, licking chocolate mousse off my spoon.

He’s watching my mouth, and I can’t help comparing my reaction to him with my reaction to Reed. If Reed were watching me lick this spoon, my panties would most likely evaporate. But while I like Brandon watching me, it’s more in terms of victory. He’s interested. Score one for me.

So what the hell is wrong with me? Brandon is everything I’m looking for, but I’ve spent most of this dinner fantasizing about Reed standing in the doorway of my apartment.

Picking up Tina
, I remind myself. He stood in the doorway of my apartment picking up Tina.

Not me.

Why am I focusing on a destined-to-be-middle-class college professor?

Brandon leans forward with a serious expression. “I’ve failed you.”

My breath sticks in my chest. Has he read my mind? Did I say what I was thinking out loud?

“How so?” I force out.

“We’ve spent the last hour without once discussing your project.” He reaches into his suit coat pocket, pulls out a folded piece of paper and sets it on the table. “Now keep in mind, I didn’t know what kind of look you were going for, so this is just a first attempt.”

He unfolds the white paper and spreads it open. He’s drawn stick people with triangle dresses and rectangle pants. “I thought maybe you could go with a geometric theme.” He points to one figure wearing a triangle on top of his head. “I even added an accessory here.”

I cover my mouth to contain my giggles. “Is that a hat?”

His eyes widen. “Are you serious? You have to ask?”

I try to look serious, but fail miserably. “I’m sorry. What was I thinking?”

He shrugs with a teasing smile. “It was my first attempt. I’m open to revisions.”

This is the sweetest thing that any guy has ever done for me. I cover his hand with my own. “I absolutely love your designs. Thank you.”

The look in his eyes tells me that if he were closer he’d kiss me.

“Let’s get out of here.” His voice is husky as he waves down our waitress.

I’m torn. I really like this guy but Reed has screwed with my head and my hormones. I really, really want to feel something with Brandon. I just need to give him a chance. “Okay.”

After he pays, he helps me out of my chair and presses his hand to the small of my back, steering me toward the door.

“Would you like to go dancing?” Brandon asks.

Dancing seems safe. I suspect Brandon is capable of keeping his hands in publicly acceptable places. “Eager to show me your foxtrot?” I tease.

His eyebrows rise in mock admonition. “You joke now, but once you see the foxtrot unleashed, you’ll be completely underwhelmed.”

I laugh. “I’m preparing myself.”

We banter lightheartedly on the drive over. Brandon is quick-witted and fun to talk to, but something is missing.

That damned Reed Pendergraft. This is all his fault. I plan to fix this tonight, one way or the other.

I’m cursed. I’m not sure what I’ve done in a prior life, but my karma sucks.

Tina is at the club with Reed.

Brandon doesn’t notice as we find a table, and I consider telling him that I want to go somewhere else. But Reed sees me, watching as we walk through the crowd. My pride refuses to let him see how he affects me.

“Do you want a drink?” Brandon asks.

“God, yes.”
Classy Caroline
. “Seven and Seven.”

Brandon doesn’t seem to notice my comment. I sit at the table and he makes his way to the bar.

We’re overdressed for this place. Belvedere’s is one of three clubs that Southern students tend to hang out at. The Voodoo Lounge, the club I went to with Dylan, features live music. Tina usually frequents another bar, Luna’s, the one we dragged Scarlett to last winter. When Brandon mentioned Belvedere’s, I figured I was safe, especially since it’s a little more upscale. I figured wrong.

Not that I thought Reed would willingly subject himself to coming here, but then again, he was at the Voodoo Lounge. Why wouldn’t he come here?

Perhaps because he’s looked miserable both times.

Brandon returns with our drinks. His eyes are on me as he takes a sip of what looks like whiskey. “Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?”

I grin and lift an eyebrow. “No, as a matter of fact, you haven’t since you picked me up.”

He slips closer to me and leans over to my ear. “You look beautiful.”

His breath tickles my ear and I wait for heat to wash through my body, but nothing happens other than a mild excitement.

“Hey, there.”

I recognize the voice before I look over at her. “Hi, Lexi.”

She’s parked herself in a chair at our table.

“Aren’t you too young to be here?” I ask.

She grins. “These things can be easily taken care of.”

“Fake ID, huh?”

She gives a half shrug with a smug look.

“I’m surprised your brother approves.” I purposely leave Reed’s name out of the conversation.

She shrugs again. Perhaps that explains his current crankiness. I’m not sure what explains his surliness the rest of the time.

Brandon watches our exchange with interest.

“Brandon, this is Lexi. Lexi, this is my date, Brandon.” I stress the word
date
. Her obvious matchmaking yesterday with me and Reed needs to be discouraged.

Lexi turns toward Brandon and gives him a dazzling smile, and I feel like I’m in some cheesy movie.

Brandon’s face lights up and he can’t tear his eyes from her. “Hi.”

They stare at each other for several seconds.

This is awkward.

As though Brandon can read my mind, he remembers I’m sitting here. “Uh, how do you know Lexi?”

“She’s on the fashion show committee.”

Brandon turns back to Lexi. “Are you a design student?”

Her eyelashes flutter and she shakes her head. “No, a business major.”

He’s even more intrigued. “How did a business major get on the committee?”

Lexi gives him an explanation about the foundation while I down my drink. Goddamn my luck with men.

“So you know Reed Pendergraft?” Brandon’s eyes darken.

I lean forward, my coordination slightly off. I had half a bottle of wine at dinner and I just drank my Seven and Seven in less than five minutes. “Of course, she knows Reed.” I look at Lexi raising my eyebrows and hoping she gets my point. “He’s on the committee.”

She seems to grasp that I don’t want her to spill that he’s her brother. Her eyebrows lift. “That Reed’s a handful.”

I choke on the last of my drink, and they both turn to me.

“Are you okay?” Lexi asks.

“Yeah, fine.” I stand. “I think I’m going to run to the bathroom.”

Lexi looks up with a questioning glance.

“You stay with Brandon. I’ll be right back.”

On my way to the restroom, I see Reed with Tina. His attention is on Tina, but he looks unhappy.

Not that she seems to notice. She’s laughing with her friends, all non-math students. Tina’s not the usual math department student. She actually has a social life.

I still haven’t figured out where Reed fits on the social scale. If the scale is one to ten, Scarlett rates about a three. Tina is an eleven.

Thankfully, it’s early enough that the restroom doesn’t have a line. I check my appearance. All still good, not that it matters. Brandon’s completely taken with Lexi. I should be angry. I should be frustrated. Instead, I’m ambivalent, and I don’t understand it at all. Brandon is everything I’m looking for, and I’m fixated on Reed.

I need another drink.

I stop at the bar and order another Seven and Seven when I feel him behind me. How can I know it’s him before he even says a word? But I do. It’s as though my body is tuned into his, a frequency that no one has ever come close to matching.

The bartender brings my drink, and I realize I don’t have my purse. But Reed senses my conundrum and silently places a folded bill on the bar. The bartender takes the money and walks away as I take a sip, trying to hide my shaky hand.

Reed continues to stand behind me and as much as I hate it, this man sends electrical currents racing through my body and wicked thoughts through my head. I feel his eyes looking over my shoulder, checking out my cleavage. I’m flushed and the hair on my arms stands on end. Every part of me aches, and it pisses me off that the thing it aches for is the asshat behind me.

I down my drink in several seconds, bang it on the bar then spin around to tell him off. But when I face him, the words stop on my tongue. The look in his eyes is primal, a stark contrast to his usual prim and proper self.

I have never wanted anything more, propriety be damned.

I grab a handful of his shirt and pull him down toward me. “You. Come with me.”

His eyes widen, but I pull him down the hall to the back storeroom. I jerk the door open and drag him in with me then push him against the door as I close it. His shirt is fisted in my hand, and I maintain my grip, pulling him toward me, as my other hand reaches for the back of his head. I grab a handful of his hair to hold him in place as I press my mouth to his.

If I expected him to protest, I would have been wrong. I’ve released him from whatever has held him back. A low growl escapes into my mouth, and his tongue follows it. His arms wrap around my back and pull me to his chest, crushing my hand between us as he takes control.

His mouth is punishing as he claims mine. Simmering anger ignites my desire, a strange mixture of hate and lust. The concoction makes me so hot I want to strip off my clothes. And strip off his. I want to see what’s under his shirt. I want to feel his skin under my fingertips.

And it pisses me off.

This isn’t me. This isn’t who I am, a sex-craved possessed woman. He’s ruining everything.

His hands slide down my back, cupping my ass and pressing his pelvis firmly against me, so there’s no doubt he wants me as much as I want him. I lift a leg and wrap it around his waist, pressing myself closer to the bulge in his jeans.

A low rumble vibrates his chest as I grab the bottom of his shirt and jerk it up, breaking contact with his mouth as I pull it over his head.

I lean back to examine the fruits of my labor, barely getting a glimpse of his broad chest and toned stomach, when one of his hands grabs the hair at the nape of my neck, tilting back my head, giving him full access to my mouth. His tongue searches my mouth, demanding my own to join with his.

His other hand glides over my ass to my leg, jerking the hem of my dress up so his fingertips brush the back of my thigh as they slide up and hook under the edge of my panties. He palms my butt cheek, pulling me closer. I press against him, desperate to fill this craving for him, pissed at him for turning me into this person I don’t recognize.

His mouth tears from mine and he growls, “You drive me fucking crazy.” He releases my hair then pushes my leg off his waist. I’m about to offer my protest when he slides my panties down over my hips in one fluid motion. They fall to my ankles and I step out of them as I reach for the front of his jeans, fumbling with the button. He groans and helps me but when he gets the button undone, I reach for his zipper, unzipping his pants, then reaching inside and stroking his erection. He groans and presses himself into my hand.

He finds the zipper at the back of my dress then tugs the straps off my shoulders, jerking the front of my dress down to expose my black strapless bra. Then suddenly, his mouth is on mine again, bruising as he claims me. His arm pins me to him while one hand finds my breast and slips under the cup of my bra. He fondles my nipple, making me gasp, but his mouth continues its onslaught as his fingers send a bolt of want straight to my pelvis.