Wasted Vows Page 11

“A woman. Well, that was sort of the reason. I also wanted to get ahead in my career, and honestly, I needed space from anything familiar. But it had a price.”

  “A price?”

  “Yeah. I left to lose myself in work, and that’s exactly what happened. I also lost myself somewhere along the way.” He laid his hand on top of mine. “But I don’t feel that way when I’m with you.”

  I stared at the hand that enveloped mine, focusing on the electric warmth. That had gotten real, fast. We’d known each other a few days. He couldn’t be serious.

  “I – uh. I honestly don’t know what to say to that.”

  Corban ran his thumb across my knuckles and stared into my eyes.

  There was so much soul in them. Feelings I hadn’t expected to see from anyone. I’d pretty much resigned myself to being the eternal bachelorette.

  It was better than divorcee.

  Corban’s free hand cupped my cheek. He pulled me in for the kiss.

  I jerked out of his grasp and knocked the wine glass over. It clattered on the table but didn’t break.

  “Damn it.” I stood up and waved for the waiter. “Clean up on aisle nine.” The joke fell flat.

  Corban lifted the glass out of the puddle of wine. “Is everything okay?”

  Was it? He just tried to kiss me again after arriving at my house a couple hours ago with an apology for doing the exact same thing the day before.

  Should I expect another make-out session then an atonement thereafter? Not happening.

  “Luna?”

  “Everything’s fine,” I said and pointed at the front of my cocktail dress. “No mess. I didn’t get you, did I?”

  “No.”

  “Oh good. I guess I should have told you this during our first phone consult. Corban Drake? I’m a klutz.”

  The waiter arrived with a cloth and a grin. “What happened here?”

  “Nuclear fission,” Corban replied dryly.

  The waiter’s smile wilted like a flower on a hot summer’s day.

  I didn’t sit back down. The moment had faded away during the aftermath of my self-consciousness. The electric vibe between Corban and me had passed.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said. “Ladies room.” I picked up my clutch and walked down the two steps elevating our booth. I wound between the tables and made for the bathrooms.

  I didn’t look back at Corban. I didn’t want him to know how difficult it had been to pull away from that kiss.

  I burst into the bathroom and startled two women in front of the mirrors. One of them almost poked her eye out with a mascara wand. “Ouch.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “My bad.”

  The blonde shrugged. “No big deal. You in a rush for the bathroom or something?”

  “No. I just needed a minute.”

  “Wait a second,” the brunette said and pointed at me with her lipstick tube.

  Oh boy, here we go again.

  “Aren’t you here with that hunky guy? The one in the suit?”

  I burst out laughing.

  The women raised their eyebrows and exchanged glances.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I thought you were going to ask me something else. But yeah, I’m here with him.”

  “Lucky girl.”

  “Tell me. What would you think if someone kissed you then apologized for kissing you, then tried to kiss you again?” The question came out before I could stop it. Corban’s uncertainty had infiltrated me.

  The blonde capped her mascara, then placed it in her handbag. “That he’s not ready for whatever reason. Like, he likes you and wants you, but he’s not ready. Or he’s not sure. All I can say, honey, is that neither one is good. Even though hunky suit guy is hot as hell, run.”

  “No way. Maybe he wants to test the waters first. See if he likes the merchandise,” the brunette added and winked at me. “Hey, if you don’t want to test the waters with him, I’d be happy to take your place.”

  “Oh my god, Jill, you’re such a skank.”

  “I learned from the best,” Jill said and grinned at her friend.

  I could tell they had the kind of friendship Larissa and I shared. Man, I missed her when confusing stuff happened. She was out on date night with her hubby, so my questions about Corban would have to wait until tomorrow.

  “The best advice I’ve ever heard,” Jill said and tossed her dark, curly hair back, “is to follow your vagina. If she says yes, you know it’s for real.”

  My jaw dropped.

  “I’m totally kidding.” Jill gathered her bag and slung the straps over her shoulder. “The pussy is the biggest damn liar in the history of the world. Never let her lead. Though, the only way you can tell if a guy is truly into you is what he’ll do for you.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “A grand gesture,” she said. “There’s always that moment in a relationship at the beginning, where you realize, like, okay, this is it. Look out for that.”

  The women hurried out of the bathroom and jazz music swelled through the open door, then cut out again as it clicked shut.

  A grand gesture. I’d yet to see one.

  Chapter 12: Corban

  I stared at Luna’s name on my cell phone screen and eased my breathing. I’d been transported back to high school, with a crush on the cutest girl in class. Except this time, a love bug teddy bear wouldn’t suffice. A week had passed since our evening with tapas, wine, and a solid rejection. I still couldn’t get Luna Faye off my brain, and it’d started seriously affecting my concentration at work.

  “All set, Mr. Drake,” Jeffrey said and bustled into the office. “I’ve asked Lou to pick you up at your condo at eight this evening.”

  “Thanks, Jeff. Any special plans for the evening?”

  “No cocktail parties for me,” he said. “I’m going to crack open a cold one, order Dominos, and sit down with the box set of Game of Thrones. Got to catch up before the new season comes out.”

  “Nice.”

  “Have a good evening, Mr. Drake.” Jeff bustled back out of the office and shut the door behind him. Poor kid probably hadn’t been laid since prom night.

  I exhaled. The cocktail party. The reason I had my phone out and a belly full of nerves.

  I could easily head out to the party alone with all the other Unique heads and execs. It’d be easier to maintain my bachelor status, as Twin Cities Magazine called it.

  But that wasn’t what I wanted anymore. My thirtieth birthday was in a couple months, and I’d spent the last ten years focused on work and nothing else. Maybe it was time to hang up the title, not that it was much of a damn title, and settle down.

  I could think of only one woman I’d want as my official date to this uncomfortable party. Because she made every single moment better and interesting when she was in it with me.

  I tapped on the screen and finally pressed the green phone icon.

  Three excruciating rings pealed before Luna answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Luna.” Shit, should I have called her Miss Faye? Pull yourself together, asshole. You’re not a kid anymore. Two kisses. That puts you firmly on a first-name basis.

  “Hi, Corban. Do you need help with something? I just got back from Target Field. The locker room is taking shape, I’ll tell you that much. I’m pleased. I think you will be too.”

  “That’s great news.” It wasn’t the reason I called, but yeah, great news. “Are you busy tonight? You have plans?”

  “Only with a microwave dinner, and my nail polish remover,” she replied.

  I imagined her in a silky robe, her hair in a towel as she leaned over her perfect toes. “Don’t mix those two up,” I said, trying to break through her hard outer shell with a bout of teasing. “Wouldn’t want your toenails lasagna tipped.”

  “It’s mac and cheese, actually.” She laughed, and it settled on my skin like a warm cloak. God, I loved that laugh.

  “Look, I don’t want to pull you away from a gourmet meal, but I’ve got a cocktail party
this evening, and I wondered if you’d like to come as my date.” There. It was out in the open. I’d made the move.

  “Oh.”

  “I – uh.” Shit. Shit. Double shit. “I think Ross will punch me if I ask Larissa, and yeah, I don’t really know anyone else. Hazard of living in Japan for years. It’s important, so I really don’t want to be the lone wolf when everyone else will be paired up.”

  “Oh.”

  “But you’d be my first choice even if I knew loads of girls here. I mean women.” Christ. When had I become such an amateur? I clamped my eyes shut as a wave of embarrassment flowed over me.

  “Loads of girls,” she said and laughed again. “Yeah, all right. I’d like to go out with you. I haven’t been to a fancy party in ages. What’s the dress code?”

  “Fantastic.” I unclenched my fist. “It’s black tie. I’ll pick you up at around quarter past eight. Is that enough time to get ready?”

  “Definitely,” she said.

  “See you then.”

  We hung up, and I let out a long breath. Holy shit, that’d been nerve racking. I’d never worried about rejection until this phone call.

  The woman had me by the short hairs. And I wasn’t even mad about it. I just wanted to make a good impression.

  I pushed back from the desk and checked the time on my Breitling. “Six.” Shoot, I won’t even have time to do my French tips. I snorted at my lame joke.

  It took me a half hour to get home, gulp down a microwave meal – mine was lasagna – and hop in the shower.

  I pulled out another of my suits, stark black and tailored to perfection, and got dressed. Ready before seven, I had nothing left to do but pine after the woman I was about to spend the evening with. I imagined her all decked out in her cocktail finery.

  My phone rang. I checked the caller ID then grinned. “What’s up, bro.”

  “Larissa’s on the phone with Luna,” Ross said immediately. “She’s into you, man. She’s definitely into you. She’s asking for wardrobe advice.”

  I sighed a huge exhale of relief. I’d started to think she was completely immune to my charms. And wardrobe advice? That was a huge deal in the woman world, apparently. “And you’re telling me this because?”

  “I want you to settle down in Minneapolis,” Ross replied. He’d always been transparent like that. It was the reason he’d chosen Larissa – she was the female version of him.

  “Whoa, don’t hide your feelings or anything. Feel free to open up.”

  “I’m serious, man. You left for years. It sucked. I had no one to tell my travails to. And if anyone deserves a good woman, it’s you.”

  “Dude–”

  “Oh shit. Gotta go. Larissa’s coming. I’m so busted, and I don’t like sleeping on the couch.” He hung up before I could get a word out.

  I’d never known Ross to ship a relationship. He’d never interfered before, except once. Just before I rushed off to propose to my college girlfriend, he warned me away from her. I’d never forget it, and it always caused me to pause and consider any advice he doled out, no matter how untimely it might be.

  But so long ago, I hadn’t listened at all. I’d clocked him on the jaw. We’d had drinks after the fallout, and he’d forgiven me. It took me longer to forgive myself.

  I sat down and switched on the TV to pass the time, but my thoughts stayed with Luna.

  The hour dragged by. Finally, my intercom rang. Lou had arrived.

  I grabbed my jacket off the back of the sofa, slipped it on, then hurried downstairs and got in the car.

  The ride over to Summit Avenue showed me the lights of the city. The city wasn’t sleeping yet – in fact, it’d just woken up. Skyscrapers winked, and cars rushed by.

  I used the view and the rumble of the tires on the tar to still my nerves.

  I had the date. All I had to do now was not screw it up.

  I’d never struggled with this type of thing before. I’d never paid much attention to it.

  The car pulled up outside Luna’s house.

  Shit. I was paying attention to it now.

  “Good luck, boss.”

  “Thanks.” I patted my driver and friend on the shoulder like I always did. The familiar gesture calmed me. I strode across the tarmac, heart pounding out a rhythm which was unfamiliar to me – nervous about a woman. About a date.

  Ha, Mr. Eligible Bachelor couldn’t keep it together for one damn cocktail party.

  Luna’s front door opened, and she stepped out wearing, good holy Christ, a slinky black dress, sequined, that clung to her curves like a second skin. A length of faux fur was draped over her shoulders, matching black gloves, and her hair done in a sleek style framing her features. She was a fucking movie star.

  Regular women didn’t look like that. They didn’t smell like that – Coco Chanel? Fuck, who knew?

  “Hi,” she said and shut the door behind her. “I know I’m supposed to be fashionably late, but what the hell.” She shrugged her shoulders, and the shawl slipped. “Why not live a little, right? Wouldn’t want to keep you waiting.”

  “Stunning.” It was the first word that popped to mind, and I blurted it out like a nerdy prom date who’d scored with the most popular girl in school. Except I wasn’t him. I was supposed to be Luna’s boss. Or her client or – god, I didn’t give a shit right now. Identity crisis be damned.

  “I – uh, okay?” Her heels click-clacked down the stairs and onto the paved path which led to the fence.

  I hovered on the other side of it. “I meant you look stunning,” I said at last. “Breathtaking.”

  Luna’s cheeks colored. “Thank you,” she said and scuffed her heel. She tottered forward and crashed into the gate.

  “Shit.” I lunged forward and caught her before she could collapse. I held her over the fence, skin on skin contact, and inhaled that scent again. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, burning sunset red now. “I do that a lot. I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

  I laughed. I loved a woman who could make fun of herself. “Let’s get out of here. Those cocktails aren’t going to drink themselves.” I opened the gate for her, escorted her through, shut it, then guided her to the car, my hand on the small of her back.

  The material of her dress was thin. Fantasies rose unbidden, and I forced them back down again. Man, I couldn’t be that guy. I wasn’t a creep, and Luna and I weren’t on a date, technically. It was just two friends, two colleagues, uh, whatever, hanging out. Apart from the kisses and the heat between us.

  Okay, so maybe this was a date.

  Lou didn’t get out of the car to open the door for her, and I offered silent thanks to the old man. He’d always had the moves.

  I opened the door for her, and she sat down, then lifted her heels inside, exposing a swatch of her milky white thigh. I shut the door on her and my naughty thoughts, then crossed to the other side of the car and got in beside her.

  The closeness intensified my desire for her. We spent the car ride to the party in utter silence, but it wasn’t awkward as much as it was electrified by the tension between us. I’d glance at her askance, admire the curve of her lips, then she’d glance at me, and I’d look away. A game of cat and mouse.

  “Thanks, Lou,” I said.

  “Anytime, boss. You call me when you and Miss Luna need the pick-up.”

  “Will do.” I got out of the car and hurried around to the other side. This wasn’t a huge event, just a gathering of socialites from the Twin Cities, but camera bulbs were flashing and yells from a couple of wannabe journalists lining the long walk leading to the Hotel Ivy.

  I opened Luna’s door, and those cameras went crazy. She stepped out onto the sidewalk and blinked, a bewildered fawn caught in the headlights.

  I offered her my arm, and she took it. “Don’t worry about these assholes,” I said. “They’re not here for us. Apparently, a couple of Twins players will be here at some point during the evening. They’ll hang around until they get a couple of drun
k photos.”

  “T-twins players?” Luna stuttered and swallowed. She scanned the growing crowd of journalists. One of them took a snap of her. A low murmur built from the group.

  “Isn’t that–?”

  “Yeah, it’s definitely her.”

  “What’s she doing–?”

  I ignored the mumbles from the peanut gallery and focused on the most beautiful girl in the fucking country. “Are you okay?”

  “Uh-huh,” she said and switched her gaze to the stairs leading to the entrance. Music thrummed from inside, and a gush of laughter erupted from between the yawning wooden doors.

  “Are you sure? We can go somewhere else if you want? This is a little high profile. I didn’t expect–”

  “No, Corban, I’m fine,” she said and squared her shoulders. She shot me a smile brimming with confidence. “Let’s have some fun.”

  I inclined my head in a regal bow. “Your wish is my command.”

  Chapter 13: Corban

  “They have a dance floor,” Luna said, her arm still looped through mine.

  “You’re into dancing?”

  “Maybe after a couple glasses of wine,” she replied.

  “Wine?” I lifted a brow. “How about a Lemondrop martini? It’s a cocktail party, after all, and I have the 4-1-1 that’s the signature cocktail of the evening. Let’s live a little.”

  “That sounds pretty good, actually.” Her hand rested on the skin at my wrist, and that contact warmed me from the inside out. “Very festive.”

  I guided her to one of the tables farthest from the dance floor, a midpoint between the bar and the groups of people chatting and exchanging numbers. I recognized a couple of them, faces without names, from magazines or the distant past. I hadn’t lied when I told her I didn’t have anyone else to go with.

  We sat down at the table, and Luna slipped off her shawl before curling it in her lap. “I’m not overdressed, am I? Oh no, forget I asked. That woman’s the spitting image of Marilyn Monroe.”

  I followed her gaze and grimaced. Okay, so I recognized one woman here. The Marilyn Monroe lookalike happened to be the one woman I hoped never to see again. Trinity.

  She’d been a part of the reason I’d left to go to Japan. Not a serious relationship, but a friends with benefits situation that had escalated from her side. She’d believed we were an item. I told her I had to focus on work. It ended with my departure, and I’d effectively cut her out a little more harshly than I liked. I tried breaking it off with her, but she literally hadn’t taken no for an answer.