“I told you he is into you. I could see it from the first moment he saw you. Who would have thought Damon Noble has a soft spot for virginal blondes?”
“I’m not a virgin,” I say, a little too loudly.
Every head in the café turns our way, and I die a thousand deaths while my face flushes red. If I could, I’d crawl under the table and hide until everyone left.
“That one time in the back seat with Kurt Bronson doesn’t count,” Em whispers. We’ve been friends since middle school, and she knows everything about me, but just this once, I wish she’d forget about Kurt Bronson.
“Yes, it does, and I did it twice for your information—both times in his back seat, and both times it sucked. I got there with Tommy Mendoza last year, but his mom walked in on us, and he couldn’t rise to the occasion after that.”
She just stared at me in astonishment, then laughed. “You know, you’ve just ruined a client for me. He’ll probably never call me again. I mean, how will I pay my portion of our rent when you take my paying jobs?” I know she’s teasing because of the exaggerated roll of her eyes as she complains. Besides, Em owns the house we live in.
I pick up the stack of money and place it in her hand. “Here’s your severance pay. Let that be a lesson to you. Never use me as a fill-in again.” I stand to leave, but Em grabs my wrist and places the money in my palm before she turns to leave.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” she says. “You have to figure this one out on your own. It’s your money, Chica, you earned it.”
I stuff the wad into my pocket and head back to work.
The last two hours creep by, and by two o’clock, I’m antsy to leave. When the big hand hits the twelve, I clock out and walk the three blocks from work to our bungalow, dreaming of the nap I’ll take when I get to my room.
On the doorstep is a large vase of flowers. Em is always receiving flowers from her admirers, and it’s not unusual for them to be left at front of the door, so I’m not overly surprised to find them.
Grabbing the large vase, I walk into the house, but as I set the bouquet down, I notice my name is written on the envelope. I pull out the card and read:
Thanks for a wonderful night. Please consider a repeat.
Damon
The romantic part of me wants to swoon, but the smart part of me is mad. Damon Noble thinks I can be bought, rented, or sold. I’ll have to educate the stubborn man.
First thing Monday morning, I’ll set him straight.
Several hours later, Em and I are sitting on the couch eating takeout Indian food, which is odd because it’s a Saturday night, and she’s usually booked for some event
“It’s not normal for you to be here on a Saturday evening. Why are you home?” My brow raises in question. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s great you’re here, but it’s a rarity.”
She laughs, “I’ll be leaving later. I have a date—a real date.” She looks at me, and a Julia Roberts smile stretches her mouth.
“Who are you dating?” Em doesn’t date; her choice of employment puts too much pressure on a relationship. She tried once, but the guy got jealous, and it ended badly.
“I’m going out with Anthony Haywood.” She sits up. “Am I crazy?” Chewing on her lower lip, she lets it pop loose. “We had such a great time last night, and he asked me to dinner tonight. He’s taking me to his new restaurant in Hollywood.”
As she talks about him, her voice gets more animated, and it reminds me of when we talked together as kids. We would always sit on one of our beds with some kind of snack food and discuss our crushes.
“Em, that’s great! If it feels right, then I think that’s great. You know what you’re doing.” I set my hand on her knee. “Tell me about him.”
“He owns restaurants all over the world. His newest is in downtown Hollywood. He’s thirty-four and never been married. He’s an only child, has a house in Malibu, and I like him. That’s all I know.”
“I’m excited for you. Since I didn’t meet him last night, do I get to meet him tonight?”
“He should be here in about an hour. You know what else I found out?”
“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
“He’s good friends with Damon. In fact, they’re opening a new club together. It’s called Ahz, which sounds like Oz, but it is supposed to be the sound of contentment, like in ‘ooh’ and ‘ah.’ Spelled A-H-Z. I like it. What do you think?”
“I’m assuming the AH is for Anthony Haywood, and the Z is for Zenith. It’s clever.”
Her eyes scan the room as she zeroes in on the flowers that arrived today. “You got flowers from Damon?” She cocks her head to the side. “That’s another interesting development. I’ve accompanied Damon to a handful of events, and he has never sent me flowers. I’m telling you, Kat, he likes you.”
How she knows the flowers are mine is beyond me. “He is a charming man, but he’s used to living his life in a certain way. He hires escorts. He doesn’t invest in relationships. No offense to you, but I don’t want to be that girl. It would be different if he was interested in a date, but the minute he tossed a thousand dollars at me, I lost all respect for him. I’m not for sale.”
“I don’t take offense, Kat. I use my resources to the best of my abilities. I bought this house with the money I’ve made, and I’m not ashamed of what I do.”
“You’ve done amazing things, and I’ve never once been ashamed of you. Hell, if I thought I could do it, I’d have joined you, but I don’t have the backbone you do.”
“If I thought you could do it, I’d have recruited you long ago.”
“Kat, this is Anthony.” Em seems like a kid as she introduces her date.
He’s a large man with dark hair and eyes that twinkle when he smiles. His hand wraps possessively around Em’s waist like he owns her, and she leans into him as if she knows it too. Jealousy threads through me. When will a man look at me that way?
“It’s great to meet you, Anthony. Take care of my girl.” I walk to the door and watch Em skip down the walkway to Anthony’s sports car.
Left alone to my thoughts, I think about Damon and how he held me on the dance floor last night. His strong hands supported my shoulder and waist while he led me around as if he were in control of the music. I’ll always remember how it felt to be in his arms, the smell of his cologne, and the feel of his lips as he kissed my forehead.
Depressed, I pour a glass of wine and walk to my bedroom. Sitting on my bed, I look across the room at the flowers Damon sent me. For whatever reason, I can’t seem to get away from him. He fills my thoughts, while the scent of his flowers fills my bedroom. I climb into bed and pray that he doesn’t fill my dreams.
Sunday passes like every other Sunday, except Em isn’t home. I complete my shift at Java Joes and spend the rest of the day studying for my accounting exam. She arrives home around nine o’clock, walking through the door and falling prone on the couch beside me. Her eyes glaze over, but she looks incredibly happy.
“How was the date?” As if I need to ask. Bliss is written all over her face.