The Offer (2 page)

Just as I
found myself relaxing into his body, though, wanting more from his
hands, wanting to slip my own underneath the tuxedo jacket and feel
the hardness of his chest, he pulled back, eyes closed and breath
ragged.

“You’re
beautiful,” he said, clearing his throat. His eyes opened, gazing
at me lazily through long, dark lashes, lashes I would kill for.
“You’re still blushing, though. Actually, you seem a little more
than flushed.” He raised a brow, his face still inches from mine.
“Did I turn you on?”

My God, this
guy was forward. I know that Linden had always been rather lewd and
definitely very vocal with Steph, but Bram was taking it to another
level.

My mouth
parted while I tried to think of words and he ran his thumb over my
bottom lip. “Such a beautiful mouth. What else can you do with
it?”

Finally I
blinked, clueing in that he was being rather crude. I flinched and
brought my head away.

He frowned.
“Ah, don’t get your knickers in a twist,” he said, his hand
slipping down to my arm. “I’ve been watching you all night, you
know.”

“Well, that’s
not hard to do when we’re part of the wedding party,” I said, my
voice suddenly parched, like kissing him had taken a lot out of me.
I suppose it had at least taken my sanity.

“You have a
hard time taking compliments,” he commented.

That, I knew
was true. I wasn’t ugly or even plain by any means, but motherhood
– and being ditched by my ex – had taken its toll on my
self-esteem. There was a time when I used to walk into the room and
own it, or at least believe in what I was offering, but I hadn’t
felt that confidence in a long time.

Even the
attention of Bram, a wealthy, eligible Scotsman, wasn’t helping.
Probably because I knew his reputation as a lady-killer and, even
though he wasn’t drinking at this exact moment, I could taste the
Scotch on his lips.

Oh, those damn
lips. I quickly tore my eyes off of them, trying to forget their
feel, their sweet, captivating taste.

“Did that
surfer dude say anything you believed?”

Surfer dude? I
had to take a moment to realize what he was talking about.

“Aaron?” I
asked. “That’s Stephanie’s ex-boyfriend.”

His shoulder
raised in a lazy shrug. “She’s a married woman now, I’m sure he’s
up for grabs. He was hitting on you all night.”

That I knew,
though Aaron had such a casual, dopey way of doing it, it hadn’t
bothered me. “You really were watching me.”

He smiled
softly. “Most beautiful woman at the wedding.” He paused. “Aside
from the bride, of course, but I have to say that.” He put his hand
behind my head and I tried not to flinch at the thought of him
messing up my updo. “How about you and I ditch this scene? I think
Stephanie and Linden left a while ago and the night is still
young.”

Things were
happening way too fast. As much as his words seemed to unravel the
tight binds inside me, the ones that kept me sane and respectable,
as much as the rough gravel of his voice made my hairs stand on
end, I had responsibilities and they didn’t involve having a
one-night stand with Bram McGregor. Even though that little voice,
the one that did like “fun” and was so often buried, was pinching
my insides, demanding I live a little, I couldn’t. Besides, it’s
not like this could ever be more than a fling, not with someone
like him.

He leaned in
close again and very gently brushed his lips against mine, shooting
heat into my veins. “Come on,” he murmured. “I know there’s a wild
child somewhere deep inside you. I can tell. Let her loose. Let me
help.”

Oh God. If
only he could.

“I can’t,” I
said quietly. “I have to go home.”

He smiled
against my mouth. It felt wonderful. “Bring me home with you. I
promise to behave myself.” He kissed me softly, long and lingering
before slowly, achingly, pulling away. “Actually, I promise to
misbehave,” he said huskily. “But I know you’ll like it.”

I took the
moment to put an inch of distance between our faces. “You don’t
understand. I have to pay the babysitter. She’ll want to leave
soon.”

I didn’t
expect him to freeze like he did, only because I had assumed he
knew I had a child. But from the way his brows came together, I
could tell this was news to him.

“Babysitter?”
he said, clearing his throat. “You have a kid?”

I nodded,
feeling my defenses go up bit by bit like I was rebuilding a wall
that had momentarily come down. “Ava. She’s five.”

“I didn’t know
that about you,” he said, blinking a few times. Why did men always
have to freak out when they found out I was a single mom? You’d
think in this so-called progressive day and age men would at least
be a little more open-minded about, if not exposed to the situation
more often. Besides, I was thirty-one, not a teenager.

I couldn’t
help but flash him an acidic smile. “There’s a lot you don’t know
about me.” When I thought about it, I guess I had only met him a
couple of times before and they were usually in social situations
where the most I got was a handshake or a nod and that was it. I
don’t think I had talked to him alone until tonight.

He looked at
the watch on his wrist, something I had noticed for the first time.
It gleamed silver in the outdoor lights. “Well, I guess you better
be on your way then, Cinderella.”

“Is it almost
midnight?” I asked, feeling awkward now about everything. I slowly
got to my feet and they screamed in pain from the Ross Atwood
sandals that Steph had gifted me for the wedding. Sexy they were,
comfortable they weren’t.

He stood
up beside me and even in my heels, which added four inches to my
five-foot-seven body, he was still a lot taller than I was. I tried
not to take in how devilishly handsome he looked in his tux, how
close I was to feeling what I knew had to be the very hard lines of
his body. All the things I tried to ignore about him earlier were
now all I could see, flashing like a neon sign that screamed,
“
Hot fuck,
one night only
.”

“Aye,” he said
in his brogue. “Can I call you a cab?”

I shook my
head. “I’m going to Uber it.”

He stared at
me for a moment as if thinking then he nodded. “Too bad I can’t
convince you to let your hair down, if just for the night.”

I gave him a
look, my fingers clenching the empty wine glass. “Letting your hair
down isn’t always an option for a single mom.”

“Right,” he
said. “Let me at least take you back to the party.” He held out his
arm for me, and after a moment’s hesitation, I took it. I have to
say it felt nice as he led me out of the garden and into the
reception area as if he were my date for the night.

But as soon as
we got close to people, he dropped his arm and gave me a quick
smile. “Get home safe, sweetheart.”

So, that was
it.

I watched as
he slid into the crowd of lingering people and headed for the bar.
The party was still going, though he was right that Stephanie and
Linden must have left because I didn’t see them anywhere. I did see
the fathers and mothers of both bride and groom, as well as Aaron,
Kayla, Penny, James and a few other of our mutual friends. Most
were dancing and having a fun time, drunk as hell, while in the
background the boats in the marina swayed lightly with the
waves.

Sometimes
being Cinderella really sucked.

Sighing, I
fished out my phone and ordered an Uber cab. It was a busy Saturday
night, so the driver was fifteen minutes away. I headed toward the
gates to the yacht club and sat on an iron bench beside a marble
anchor, giving my feet another rest. I tried to keep watching the
road to see if my Uber was pulling up, but when I heard a loud
giggle, I had to turn my head back to the reception.

There, in the
distance, was Bram with his arm around some skinny blonde chick I’d
seen earlier. I think one of Steph’s distant cousins. She looked
way young, way drunk and way into Bram.

Unfortunately,
he looked to be the same way about her. While her heel caught in
the grass and she nearly went stumbling, he caught her and brought
her to him. She laughed and kissed him and he eagerly kissed her
back, pressing her lithe body and slinky dress to him. Her hand
slipped down to his crotch and pressed it against what must have
been quite the erection.

He grinned at
her, that stupid, wicked grin, and took her toward the garden area
we had just come from, disappearing behind the rose bushes. Her
giggles floated through the air and I couldn’t help but picture him
stripping her naked, bending her over the bench, and unzipping his
pants.

I watched the
bushes for a moment, seeing them rustle, feeling both sick and
strangely turned-on.

That could
have been me.

But it wasn’t.
And when I started hearing her breathy moans, I snapped out of it.
Jesus, he was fast to move on after he figured out he wasn’t going
to get lucky with me.

By the time
the car pulled up for me, all my feelings had swirled into a
cauldron of shame and anger. What a fucking pig! I was lucky as
hell I didn’t end up throwing caution – or my panties – to the wind
and sleeping with that slimy Scottish jackass. I had been right all
along. He was trouble, danger, and I needed to stay away from men
like him. Only now I wished I hadn’t even kissed him back, let
alone exchanged words with him at all.

While I stewed
in the back of the Uber car as we crossed over the Golden Gate
Bridge, I thought back to my motto. Live with no regrets? I was
definitely regretting that I let him even think he could have slept
with me that night.

I also had
another motto: Fool me once, shame on me. You won’t fool me twice.
My pride will never, ever let me fall for something again.

If Bram
McGregor wasn’t on my hit list before, he definitely was now.

“
Nicola
Price, you’re fired,” my boss says to me in his most Donald
Trump-like expression. Only he’s not smiling like it’s a joke and
his coif is so shellacked with hair goop that it would put Mr.
Trump to shame.

Also, I’m
pretty sure he actually said, “Nicola, we’re so sorry to tell you
this, but we’re going to have to let you go.” But what’s the
difference when they pretty much mean the same thing? In one damn
second I’ve lost my job. My income. My stability.

My future.

It’s a wonder
I don’t have a meltdown like the ones Ava throws when she can’t
find her favorite plush toy, Snuffy. Or even leak a single tear.
Instead, I just sit there like an idiot, a frozen, slack-jawed
failure, while my boss, Ross (ex-boss now, I guess), prattles on
about how sorry he is and how he wished they could have kept me but
the company is downsizing and they’re removing one of the stores
and yadda, yadda, yadda.

But none of
that matters whatsoever since I know I’m one week shy of having
worked for them for three months. In one week, I would have
finished my probationary period and my health insurance would have
rolled in. I would have gotten a raise. I would have gotten piece
of mind and a career in the field I’ve been striving for.

And now I’m
angry because I realize these assholes knew they’d never offer me a
permanent position, they just wanted the cheap fucking labor. This
had been their plan all along, to string me along under false
pretences and then kick me to the curb before it became
serious.

Sounds a lot
like my love life, come to think about it.

“Is there
anything we can do for you?” he asks, peering at me with concern,
perhaps watching my face for signs of an imminent explosion.

Ava, it always
comes back to my daughter. If it weren’t for her, I probably would
have just nodded at the dismissal. Take it graciously like I try to
do with everything life throws my way, like I’d been taught at a
young age. Never let them see you cry; never let them see you as
anything but perfectly appropriate. Suck it up and carry on, a
vision of cool.

But my life at
the moment isn’t cool and there isn’t a single appropriate thing
about it. My rent at my shitty apartment recently increased. My car
needs a part I can’t afford, so it just sits on the curb collecting
rust from San Francisco’s eternal mist, and Ava has been
increasingly sick lately. Nothing to worry about, the doctor says,
just lethargic on some days but I’ve got an endless supply of worry
for my kiddo and not always enough money to pay for a doctor’s
visit. Not to mention a pretty useless doctor at that. I was
counting on that goddamn medical insurance for her, not for me.

And so, like
Bruce Banner when he turns into the Hulk – minus the shirt-ripping
– I let it all unleash on my unsuspecting ex-boss. For three months
I have been prim and proper and yes sir, no sir, running around all
the stores like an overworked slave, all while keeping a big smile
on my face. Never let them see you sweat. Always keep your
cool.

Fuck that.

I’m not even
sure what to say. It’s like I go into some deep, black pit of
pent-up resentment. I think I even blackout for a moment. All I
know is that when I realize what I’m doing, I’m standing up, my
finger jabbing in the air towards my ex-boss, and I’m spewing a
load of obscenities.

“You know if
you had just fucked me over sideways, that would have been fine.
But you’re hurting my daughter by doing this. How dare you just
toss me aside a week before my health insurance kicked in!” I yell
at him. “Don’t you have a damn heart?”

But from the
way Ross calmly picks up his phone and asks his assistant,
Meredith, to come in the room as if I need to be escorted out, I
can see he doesn’t have a heart at all.