James was a gentleman.
When I walked into Anthem, this cool, casual upscale place at Faneuil Hall, I didn’t have to ask the hostess to show me to the table because James stood up from a booth and waved me over.
My first (and shallow) thought was that he was shorter than Henry. And when I approached and he leaned in to shake my hand and kiss my cheek, my heart sank at the lack of butterflies. He was shorter than me when I was in heels. It sounded ridiculous to care about that stuff, and I knew when you met the right person, you didn’t care about if he was short or tall, green or blue. But on first impression, it bothered me.
James was shorter than I was in heels, and he was slim and wiry, built like a cyclist. If we were to have sex, I’d feel super self-conscious. As “happily proportioned” as I was, I knew from experience that if the guy was not tall, well-built, or stocky, I tended to feel like a whale.
I didn’t want to feel like a whale during sex.
I wanted to feel feminine and sexy and easily manhandled.
Flashes of Henry fucking me against the wall the other night hit so suddenly I stumbled, knocking over an empty glass on our table. “I’m so sorry,” I gasped, my cheeks burning with mortification.
James gave me a kind smile, probably assuming I was nervous. “No worries.”
We slid into opposite sides of the booth and I smiled back, trying to shove my thoughts of sex and Henry out of my head. “So, you’re a photographer?”
We chatted a while in between ordering and waiting for our food to arrive, telling each other a little about our jobs. James was freelance and did a lot of work for a couple of newspapers.
“I’ve seen you on television.” James suddenly looked a little shy. “You’re as gorgeous and charismatic as you are on TV. I asked Joe about you a while ago, whether you were seeing anyone. But he said you weren’t dating.”
Suddenly I felt bad. Very bad. Because it would seem James had had a crush on me for some time and here I was already discounting sex with the guy because of his height and build.
Strike that.
If I was going to be honest with myself, I was discounting sex with the guy because of Henry Goddamn Lexington.
I desperately tried to shake him off. If I gave James a chance, something could develop between us and I wouldn’t give a rat’s ass that I weighed twice as much as he did. He obviously couldn’t care less, if the way he kept running his eyes over me when he thought I wasn’t looking was anything to go by.
“I was concentrating on my career for a while,” I finally replied. “But I need to start prioritizing my personal life too.”
“I get it.” He nodded. “After my divorce I realized how little time I’d prioritized my personal life. It was why my ex left me. I knew then I had to make some changes.”
“So… you didn’t want to get divorced?” I asked tentatively.
James shrugged. “I know it’s for the best now. But at the time, I was pretty wrecked by it.”
“Haven’t you ever considered trying a reconciliation with your ex?”
He frowned at me and I flushed, realizing what a stupid thing it was to say on a date. “Well… she started dating pretty quickly.”
“So she’s seeing someone.”
“No. They broke up a few months ago.”
“Maybe you should talk to her.”
“Okay, wait.” He held up a hand. “Are you counseling me to get back together with my ex on our first date?”
“It does sound like it,” a deep, familiar voice said from behind me.
I tensed.
No. Way.
James looked beyond my shoulder and not wanting to but drawn to, I half turned in the booth to find Henry sitting in the one directly behind me.
Our faces were so close it took me a second to recognize the anger burning in the back of his blue eyes. It was still there even as he flashed me a cocky grin and stood. “Mind if I join you?” he said, and sat down beside me, forcing me along the booth.
This was not happening!
How was this happening?
He was supposed to be in Panama or Seattle or something!
“Henry Lexington,” he held out his hand to James who shook it in bemusement. “A friend of Nadia’s.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“You too. Although to be honest, I’m surprised to meet you.” I could feel him looking at me but I stared straight ahead at James. I was beyond tense, bracing myself for what Henry was about to say or do. “I was under the impression Nadia was off the market.”
My jaw almost hit the table.
He did not just say that.
James looked between Henry and me. The smart man cottoned on extremely quickly. “Look, I don’t want to get in the middle of something.” He slid out of the booth and pulled out his wallet but Henry stopped him.
“Let me pay for your lunch. Compensation for a colossal waste of your time.”
The anger slipped out in his words and James paused. He looked at me. “Nadia, are you okay with this guy?”
I gave him a weak smile, grateful that he’d asked. “I’m sorry, James. Henry and I have a little unfinished business. I didn’t mean for you to get caught in the middle.”
“As long as you’re okay?”
I nodded and he pulled out money from his wallet and threw it on the table, despite Henry’s offer. “It was nice to meet you anyway.”
“You’re a gentleman,” I said as he walked away. And he was.
Why did I have to be attracted to the asshat beside me and not the one who was walking away?
I didn’t even have to look at Henry to be overwhelmed by him. He was so much bigger than me in the booth, his heat and anger pulsing as he pressed his knee against mine.
“Look at me,” he seethed.
Not wanting to be a coward, I finally did and winced at the awful look on his face. “Henry—”
“You can either play this out in public—and I can’t promise it won’t get loud—or you can get that sexy-as-fuck ass of yours out of this booth and into my car. Your choice.”
“That’s not much of a choice,” I snapped.
“Nadia…” he warned between gritted teeth.
With an exaggerated, exasperated sigh, I grabbed my purse and nudged him with my knee. He got out and despite his anger, he held out his hand, helping me up out of the booth. As soon as I was on my feet, his fingers curled tight around mine.
There was no hope of escape.
Not a word was exchanged between us as Henry drove through heavy traffic to Back Bay. The tension was so unbearably thick, I didn’t realize until we pulled up to his building that I’d curled my fingernails deep into my thighs. My stomach was in knots, hating that he was angry at me, hating that I hated that he was angry at me. Why did it feel like I’d betrayed him?
I shouldn’t care like this.
Ever the gentleman, he parked his car, got out, and walked around to the passenger side to open my door and help me out. Like at the restaurant, he held tight to my hand as he walked toward the apartment building on Columbus Avenue. Inside the grand marble entrance hall, Henry first nodded at a very tall security guard and then said hello to a well-dressed gentleman behind reception. “Mr. Lexington,” the man nodded.