Still dissecting how wrong I treated Dominic, I pop out of my chair.
“Ms. Jones?” Jack perches an eyebrow.
“Um . . .” I glance out the window. My hand flies up, tangling in a pair of earrings I’ve never worn before. Roslyn was the reason. She convinced me to purchase this, that, and the other. To think, I’ve started to make an effort and Dom . . .
“Ahem.” The marketing technician sitting next to me clears her throat.
“I have a proposal for . . .” I glance across the screen, searching for the name of the new marketing account. Oh God, a clothing boutique. Roslyn is my source of trendy. I’m not trendy.
“How does this sound? Two women.” I wring my fingers, attempting to overlook the fact that Dominic hasn’t responded to my lunch date. “One model is the epitome of confidence. The other . . . not so much. Good friends. Not two gorgeous women who went under the knife.” I flip to another topic. “Um, I know my biggest strength is photos, and you’ll have a commercial to brand for this campaign so . . .” Tell me to sit down and shuddup already!
Jack nods. “Keep going.”
“They’ll have something to indicate they’ve been friends forever.”
He tips his chin.
Eyes sifting over the projector, I smile and add, “Oh! Like the vintage bracelets or earrings, the boutique has on display. They walk into the store. The diva tells the other about what she absolutely needs for tonight’s date with her dream guy. And everyone wants to be that girl.”
“Who’s the model?” a cheesy intern asks.
“No,” Jack murmurs. “The real girl—the one each woman watching the commercial or sees in Ms. Jones’ photos—they’ll know they can have that too.”
Jack loved my idea of the normal girl who gets the guy. After our meeting, I received my first invitation from the ladies on our team to lunch. Now, the notion of how I’m not ‘the normal girl’ roams through my mind as I sit, alone, at a tapas bar and grill an hour later. I cringe at the sight of the same trio of women being escorted into the rooftop dining area. I had said no. I lift my mock “Sex on the Beach.” They wave back.
A second later, my cellphone pings, rescuing me from being a loner. I answer sight unseen.
“Hey, cousin!”
“Hey . . . hey . . .” My dull tone climbs into a more promising greeting.
Siobhan chuckles. “I wasn’t checking on you. Jack has a habit of texting me a highlight of the week. You made the cut. It’s nice that you’ve finally come out of your shell a little.”
“Yup.” I sip my drink as a triangular dish with three artistically arranged pieces of seafood are set before me. “Um, yeah, thanks.”
“Oh, are you busy? Out having cocktails with the team?”
“Nope.” I pop my lips.
“Aria! I hear chatter and silverware. Don’t tell me you’re at lunch alone.” She groans. “Please allow Lincoln to introduce you to one of his British friends. I’d make a suggestion, but you know how hard it is out here for black women to find the one.”
“Hmmm,” I reply, no instant response. My gaze collides with a man at the far corner of the roof. Reflector glasses cover his mocha skin, but mirror in my direction. As I focus on the stranger, his lips pull tight.
“Okay, so you’re seeing someone.” She muses. “You might be my baby cousin, but I’m tired of having babies. It’s your turn.”
I tear my gaze away from him. He can’t be El Santo, or El Diablo, or whatever the media wants to call the crazed asshole. Not here. Not now. My search for him has stalled. When I was late for my date with Dominic, I’d been hot on El Santo’s trail. Or so I thought. I’d bought myself a ticket to the mariposa sanctuary, which included an expensive-ass guide, who probably thought I was weird for visiting on my own. She definitely gave me the side-eye after so many questions about each display. It had been a long, wasted day, like so many before as I attempted to grasp at metaphoric grains of sand.
Across the rooftop restaurant, tall umbrellas clutter the area like light blue clouds. Nobody else is hyperventilating at the sight of the lone stranger.
Shit, I’m a lone stranger.
“Hello, Ari’?”
My gaze stops. A smile ricochets across my face. Dominic.
He’s there in his leather jacket and another pair of jeans that I need to tear off his body. He leans against the side of the building, a cigarette at the tip of his lips. Unlike the man in the reflectors, whom I may be paranoid about, and I now notice has disappeared, Dominic stares straight at me.
Heat smolders his olive-green gaze, enough to burn me from twenty yards away. He pulls the cigarette from a mouth that knows me intimately and puffs an o.
“Aria?”
“Yeah-yes. I’m dating someone, Siobhan,” I murmur.
“Tell me everything, cuz’!”
I pull the receiver from my ear, eyes glued to his. “Later, girl. Gotta go.”
I press the off button, leave enough cash, and climb off the seat with my purse. As I strut toward Dominic, he heads toward the side of the building. People enter and exit the interior dining room, but he continues past it, stopping where ropes separate the rooftop restaurant from the opposite side.
Broad shoulders open in confidence, Dominic doesn’t look back. He lifts a leg then the other over to the opposite side of the cord where it reads Lounge. This portion of the roof is for an exclusive nightclub that not even Roslyn has been to.
White tarps cover lush chairs. Long hearths with sparkling gems separate the area. An empty stage is to one side, and a view of rooftops of other buildings encompasses the other. Dominic places his thick forearms on the railing.
The words well in my throat. “I know you’re angry with me.”
He moves around, leans against the railing, and points his cigarette at me while laughing a little. The incredulous look on his face floors me.
I huff. “Okay, an understatement.”
Dominic inhales deeply.
I pull the cigarette from his lips, flicking it a thousand feet down to its death. “You shouldn’t smoke these. So, now you’re not talking to me, either?”
He pulls his arm around my waist, bringing me to him and pressing our mouths together. The intoxicating, sweet scent of his cigarette floats into my mouth along with the smoke. Damn, dick move. Well, at least he doesn’t smell like an ashtray.
I breathe out the sweet, scented burn. His mouth is sumptuously close.
“Anything else you want to apologize about, LeAnna. Sí?” His eyebrow rises.
I shove at his chest then worry about him falling, but he doesn’t so much as budge. In one fluid motion, Dominic slides an arm around me. My back is against the railing. A second later, I’m swaying like a rag doll as he spins me again. My hands claim the rail as his cock grounds against my ass. A warm breeze jostles the tresses from my sloppy bun across my cheek.
Dominic’s tantalizing bravado grits into my ear. “By all means, mami. Apologize.”
As if I’m underwater, currents dance around me, and my skin burns in a flicker of desire and degradation. “Humph, I considered apologizing. Then you called me LeAnna.”
“Now, you’re angry again.” He tosses the last word, and I bet he’s smiling. “Sí or no, LeAnna?”