“Oh no,” Kimbra responds. “No more generalizations. Your brother is cured.”
“So there is a cure?” I ask, forcing my most innocent smile.
“Oh, ladies,” Stephen interjects. “There is always a cure. And I personally believe I’m surrounded by two of the loveliest cures I’ve ever seen.” He turns to Trevor. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
My cheeks heat as I take another sip of martini.
It’s everything I can do to maintain the conversation with the way Trevor is secretly drawing circles on my shoulder, running his hand through my hair, and teasing the place on my neck where earlier his lips made me shiver.
I want nothing more than to turn toward him and wrap my arms around his neck. But I can’t because through it all, Stephen is dropping hints the size of grenades while Kimbra is chatting about everything, blissfully unaware.
“...we should have you all to dinner before you leave for London,” Kimbra says. “You too, Trevor. This is fun.”
“London is still up in the air,” I say. “I mean, of course, if we get the job here we’ll still need to go back to pack.”
“Apartment in the East Village,” Stephen says softly as he lowers his empty glass to the bar. “Next round is on you, boss lady.” And with that, he steps away.
“What is he talking about?” Kimbra asks.
I shake my head. “It’s not as if there isn’t enough pressure, but Stephen put a deposit down on an apartment in the East Village for when we move back to New York.”
“Is it that certain?”
I shake my head. “It’s less certain after my little stunt today of going onstage. Even though I stepped in to save the show and showcase all the lingerie, the woman who would be my superior wasn’t thrilled.”
“Why?” Trevor asks. “I was there. It went off without a flaw.”
“The sales are good, but the point of a fashion show is to showcase fashions. When the show is over, the fashions should be the headline, not pondering about the loss of one model and questions about her replacement.”
“I don’t know how you do it. Dealing in HR is enough for me,” Kimbra says.
“Well, you seem to have an in with your boss, too. That doesn’t hurt,” Trevor says with a grin.
Kimbra shrugs. “Speaking of which—”
Before she can finish I hear a voice I never expected, one thick with a British accent.
“Willis, we’re next in the pool-table queue. You’re about up.”
“Max?” I say, turning his direction. Stunned doesn’t begin to describe my reaction.
“Shana?”
The good vibes I’ve been feeling since entering the bar disappear in a puff of smoke as Max Cantel’s beady, cheating stare comes my way.
“You two know each other...?”
Trevor’s comment goes unheard as I step from the barstool, all five-foot-six inches of me, poised and ready to fight. “Get the hell away from here before Stephen sees you.”
“He’s here?” Max asks, sounding less angry than I would have expected.
“Get out. How dare you track him down—”
“What are—” Trevor tries again to speak.
“Get the hell away.” I frantically look to my left and right, wondering where Stephen went before turning to Trevor. “You know this man?”
“Yes, we’re friends—”
Max reaches for me, but I pull away. “Shana, listen to me. There’s been some misunderstanding. I haven’t been able to reach Stephen for nearly a month. I’ve left messages and emails. I’ve even sent a courier.”
My finger pokes his direction, getting closer and closer to hitting his chest with each word. “Keep your lame-ass excuses to yourself.”
It’s then that I feel another hand on my back. “I need to leave,” Stephen says.
I hear the anguish in his voice.
“Stephen,” Max asks, “what the hell happened?”
When I turn, Stephen’s back is as straight as a rod as he turns to Kimbra. “It was very nice to meet you. It seems I need to leave.”
“Umm,” she says, “I don’t know what’s happening.”
I look from Kimbra to Trevor; both of their expressions are filled with question. “I need to go too. Call me.” I stand taller. “Kimbra.”
And with that I turn toward the door, my hand in the small of Stephen’s back as I navigate our way through the crowded bar.
“Sorry, boss lady,” he says as we step onto the sidewalk. It is then that my phone buzzes as his body trembles beneath my grasp.
“Let’s get back to the hotel.”
“Wine?”
“Copious amounts of wine.”
Once we’re in the taxi, I pull my phone from my purse, but before checking the screen, Stephen turns my way, his eyes glassy with pent-up emotion.
“Do you know something else I love in New York?” he asks.
“You mean, besides me?”
He nods. “Yes, besides you.” When I don’t answer, he does. “Pizza.”
“Oh my God, I was just thinking the same thing earlier tonight.”
I tap on the partition separating us from the driver.
Pulling the cell phone from his ear, the driver asks, “Yes, lady?”
“Stop at Underground Pizza on Hanover before going to our hotel.”
“No good, miss. There will be no parking or standing in that area.”
Stephen lets out a long breath. “Then drive me in circles until she has our pizza.”
“Whatever you want. The meter’s running.”
I grin when I see Stephen smile.
“I’ll cover the meter, you get the pizza,” he says just before laying his head on my shoulder.
“Deal.”
He looks up. “You really are my best friend. I don’t know what’s going to happen with this promotion, but whatever it is, I’m glad to be here with you.”
I reach up and pull his head back to my shoulder. “This has been a crazy-ass night.”
“Are you going to check your texts? Your phone’s been buzzing since we left the bar.”
I sigh as I swipe my screen. Three missed text messages.
“Two from Trevor and one from Kimbra.”
“Crazy-ass night,” he says.
“You can say that again.”
Chapter Twelve
Shana
The club clothes are gone; mine lie somewhere on my bathroom floor. I traded them for more comfortable alternatives: yoga pants covered in multicolored shoes and a big T-shirt. As soon as we made it to the hotel, Stephen did the same before coming to my room. His chic jacket and trousers are gone, and in their place, he’s wearing jogging pants and a Yankees T-shirt.
Growing up in Illinois, I’m more of a Cubs girl. When I was younger, each summer my family would go into Chicago for a weekend of what my mom called family time. Most years we’d see a Cubs game. I love Wrigley, but my favorite part is Wrigleyville. Not only are the hot dogs and popcorn always the best, but it is one of the few times we’d get to see our parents relax and sit back with a few beers. They saved their alcohol intake for special occasions.