At this point Joe comes over, and we give him our order. As he’s preparing our drinks, Kieran slides in and puts his elbow on the bar as he faces me. He’s a head taller than I am, so I have to look up to see his face.
“Do you think it’s fate that we saw each other tonight after I asked you out earlier?” he asks.
I focus on his chin, knowing damn well that if I look into his eyes, he’ll see exactly how drawn I in am. “More like a coincidence. Either that, or you’re stalking me.”
He moves closer when someone presses in behind him, and I close my eyes as I experience how good it feels to have his body brush against mine. “I’m not really the stalking type, Eden, but if I were, I’d happily stalk you.”
His voice is hypnotizing, and when I submit to looking into his eyes, I’m completely enthralled.
“You look great tonight, by the way,” he says, quiet but intense. “And the way you just kicked my ass at pool ... sexy as hell.”
The way he’s looking at me makes it hard to think. I’ve had a lot of guys tell me they want me, but very few have done it without using words. Right now, Kieran’s eyes are doing all the talking.
He continues staring for a few more moments then says, “Go out with me. Tomorrow night. I promise you’ll have a good time.”
That takes me by surprise. “Kieran –”
“Don’t say no.”
“I have to.”
“Wrong. A hundred-percent wrong.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, my sister likes you.”
“And?”
“And you should ask her out.”
“Why?”
“Because she likes you.”
His forehead creases. “In case you haven’t noticed, I like you. I thought I was being clear about that? Was I not?”
“Asha is an amazing person.”
“I’m sure she is.”
“And she’s gorgeous.”
“I suppose ...”
“She speaks fluent French and can do the NYT crossword in record time.”
“Wow. That’s impressive.”
“It is. So, why won’t you ask her out?”
“Because I’d rather go out with her sister.”
I stand there, genuinely lost for words. This has never happened before. Have men moved onto me when they found out Asha wasn’t interested? Of course. But it’s never been the other way around.
Kieran squints at me. “You can understand me okay, right? Or is the accent throwing you off? You look confused.”
“No, I just –”
“Just, what? I like you. I’m attracted to you. I’d like to go out with you. If you’re not interested, then please tell me now, because I’m starting to feel like I’m fighting a losing battle here.” He stares, waiting for me to reply.
“It’s just that ...”
Explaining my logic to him is difficult. Instead, I just get more lost in his remarkable face every second that passes. I’m not even aware I’ve moved closer, until Joe clears his throat to announce our order is ready.
I blink and step back. I may have only downed a couple of drinks, but my stupidly strong attraction to him makes me feel drunk. I need to be careful if I want to avoid doing something for which my sister will resent me.
I pick up two drinks and let out a breath. “We should get back.”
“Wait.” His warm hand on my arm stops me. “Just tell me this – if your sister wasn’t in the picture, would you go out with me?”
“To be honest ... probably not.”
“Because?”
“I don’t date.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Wait a minute, are you married?”
“No.”
“Engaged?”
“No.”
“Living with someone?”
“Well, yes, but only my sister.”
“And yet, you don’t date?” He leans closer. “Is it a religious thing? Are you saving yourself for Jesus? Because I can grow a decent beard in just a few days if it would help.”
I laugh and shake my head. “Did it occur to you that maybe I just don’t like you?”
He takes a step forward, and I’m almost pressing against him. My head is level with his neck, and I stare at the strong muscles there, so I don’t have to look up into face.
“Eden?”
I swallow. The moment our eyes meet, I know we both feel the jolt. His smile fades, and I stop myself from curling my fingers into the zeppelin picture stretched across his chest.
“Just to be clear, I have no problem being rejected by women. It happens all the time. But if this is how you react when you don’t like someone, I’d be fascinated to see what happens when you do.”
It feels like everything is slowing down as the heat from his body seeps into my muscles. “I don’t deny that you’re attractive.”
“Really? Tell me more.”
“You’re okay to look at.”
“Uh huh.”
“And I guess your accent doesn’t suck.”
“I see.”
Our heads are getting way too close.
“And you’re not really ... boring, or anything.”
“So nice of you to say. Not-really-boring is something I’ve always aspired to be.”
“But ...”
He holds up his hand. “You don’t have to say the ‘but’. Honestly, buts are overrated. Except mine. It’s fecking glorious.”
I laugh at that, and I barely recognize the sound. I’m so horrified by the shrillness, it loosens the magnetic hold he has on my breathing.
I take in some air and let it out. “Even with your glorious butt, and even if my sister wasn’t practically drooling over you, I don’t have time for dating or relationships. I’m happy to have fun in the bedroom, but that’s all I can manage.”
He gives me a half-smile. “No offense, but I don’t have trouble getting women to sleep with me. That’s not what I want from you.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I don’t know. But it’s sure as hell more than a one-night stand.”
All sorts of warning bells go off in my brain. It doesn’t stop me being drawn to him, but it’s enough to make me realize how dangerous this guy is.
“Right now, one night is all I have time for. You should ask my sister out. She’s just like me, only nicer. You can wine and dine her to your heart’s content.”
“And that’s your final answer?”
“It is.”
He nods and steps back, and it’s obvious that we’re both breathing faster and deeper than we were a few minutes ago.
“Okay, then,” he says, shrugging in defeat. “At least I can say I tried my best.” He leans over the bar, grabs a pen, and proceeds to write on a napkin. “However, if you end up changing your mind at any point while I’m still in your lovely country, feel free to call me, alright?”
He holds out the napkin, and I take it. “Absolutely.”
With that, we both take a few more deep breaths to collect ourselves, before he grabs the other two glasses off the bar and steps aside so I can pass. “After you.”
When we get back to the table, Pat and Asha are deep in discussion about James Joyce. But as soon as Kieran places a drink in front of Asha and sits next to her, she turns all her attention toward him. I sip my drink with mixed emotions.
I make small talk with Pat as Asha and Kieran chat and laugh, and despite my jealousy, seeing Asha so happy makes me smile. I’d do anything to help my sister find the man of her dreams. If that man is Kieran, I’ll do everything I can to stay out of their way.
After finishing my drink in record time, I rub my temple and stand. “Sorry to break up the party, guys, but I’m getting a headache. I’m going to head home.”
“Oh,” Asha says, putting her drink on the table. “Sure. Let’s go. I’ll grab you some Advil.”
As she stands, I hold out my hand to stop her. “No, you stay. I’ll be fine. It’s early, and you guys are having a good time.” I
give Pat a smile. “Nice to meet you. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” When I look at Kieran, I don’t miss the disappointment on his face. “Bye, Kieran.”
He pauses then says, “Goodbye, Eden.”
I head out of the bar and down the street, and try not to think about what I’ve just left behind.
FIVE
Booking It
The next morning, I lie in bed and listen as Asha moves around in the kitchen, preparing her breakfast. The fact that she’s humming tells me things with Kieran went well.
I pull my pillow over my eyes and sigh. God, I really don’t want to hear all the lurid details. For once, I regret that my sister and I are comfortable enough to share every intimate detail of our lives. Maybe if I hide in here long enough she’ll head to work, and I’ll be spared for a few hours at least.
That plan takes a major hit when the delicious smell of frying bacon wafts under my door. She’s trying to lure me out, and dammit, it’s working. If I were a cartoon dog I’d be floating on a stream of bacon fumes, right under the door and out into the kitchen.
“Eden! Get your butt out here! I’ve cooked you breakfast! Don’t you dare let it go cold!” God, she sounds just like Mom when she yells like that.
I sit up and pull my disastrous morning hair back into a ponytail. “No, thanks! I’m good. Not really hungry.”
Within three seconds my bedroom door slams open, and my sister gives me a look of concern. “What’s going on? Are you sick? You’re never not hungry. One of the reasons I resent you is that you eat like a horse but look like you should be strutting the catwalks of Milan. It’s unfair and annoying.”
“I’ve told you before, the only reason I’m not three-hundred pounds is because I work my ass off at the gym. My body processes calories the same way yours does.”
“Bullshit. My hips and thighs have a vendetta against me and are determined I’ll never find jeans that truly fit.”
Since we were teenagers, I’ve coveted her curves, and she’s longed for my lack of them. We all want what we don’t have, I guess.
“Eden,” she says, and I know she’s serious, because she puts her dainty hands on her Shakira hips, “unless you’re dying, get out here right now and eat. I cooked the bacon in maple syrup, just how you like it. I even made freshly squeezed orange juice. I can’t have a glorious Martha Stewart moment unless you come and praise me for my efforts.”
I throw up my hands in defeat. “Okay, fine. I guess I should be grateful you’re doing the work for once. If this is what I can expect every time you get laid, I hope it happens more often.”
She looks at the floor. “Just come eat, please. We need to talk.”
After she walks away, I flop back onto the bed and rub my eyes.
Okay, don’t be a douche. Get out there and listen to your sister gush about sex with the only guy you’ve ever thought may be worthy of snuggling after sex. You can do this. She deserves it.
I swing out of bed and pad out into the kitchen. As usual when Asha cooks, she seems to have used every plate and frying pan we own, and they’re now piled high in the sink. Still, what she’s set out for me looks delicious.
I sit at the breakfast bar and munch on a piece of crispy maple-bacon.
God, yes. Get in me, smoky deliciousness.
“So,” I say, before taking a sip of juice. “You seem to be in a good mood. Care to tell me all about the sexy times with your Irish dreamboat?”
She scoops some scrambled egg into her mouth and gives me a closed-mouth smile, then shakes her head.
“What?” I say. “You’re not going to tell me? That hurts, Ash. We tell each other everything.” Secretly, I’m relieved, but it would be weird if I didn’t pretend otherwise.
She swallows and shakes her head again. “No, sorry. I meant, he’s not my Irish dreamboat. Nothing happened.”
A piece of bacon drops off my fork as I process that. She didn’t screw him? I hate how happy that makes me. “Really? You two looked pretty cozy when I left. What was the problem?”
She shrugs. “Nothing. I just wasn’t feeling it.”
“Asha.” I fix her with my serious face. “Are you kidding me? I’ve never seen you turn your flirt up to eleven like you did with Kieran.” I put down my fork and lean forward. “Wait, did he do something to you? Hurt you? Drunkenly grope you? Because if so, I don’t care how damn attractive he is, I’ll kick his ass all over Brooklyn, and then I’ll –”
“Edie, stop.” She laughs and grabs some toast. “Kieran was a perfect gentleman. As was Pat. They were nice guys. At the end of the night I just realized Kieran and I didn’t have any chemistry. It’s not the end of the world. It happens all the time.”
“Really? That’s it? Did you at least kiss him to come to this conclusion?” I bet he’s an amazing kisser. Those lips were made for it.
“Nope, no kissing. The more we spoke, the more I realized he wasn’t the guy for me. End of story.”
“I see.” I look around at the carnage in our kitchen. “Then why the cooking and humming? You’re way too happy for a girl who had zero orgasms last night.”
“Just because I didn’t bring a guy back here, doesn’t mean I didn’t have fun times by myself.”
I laugh then get up and start making a fresh pot of coffee. “Well, good for you, I guess. But I’m sorry things didn’t work out. You and Kieran would have made a cute couple.” Though it would have been tough watching them together, I wasn’t lying.
“So, anyway,” Asha says as she adds her empty plate to the Jenga tower of filth in the sink, “we should go out tonight. Just you and me.”
“Okay. Where? And also, why?”
“Because I feel like we haven’t had any quality time alone recently. You’ve had a lot on your plate with the whole Mister Romance thing, and I have crappy editorial assignments I’d like to vent about. Let’s do Verdi’s at eight. We’ll eat, get a bottle of wine ... it’ll be nice.”
“Verdi’s is kind of fancy. We can’t have quality sister time at a burger bar?”
“No, so don’t even think of showing up in jeans and a leather jacket. I’ve left that cute little blue dress you like on my bed. Wear it, please.” I make a noise in protest. “And if that groan is because you think you’ll also have to do your hair and makeup, then you’re right. A little effort is all I ask. Promise me.”
I roll my eyes. “God, you’re so demanding. I’m sure we could bond just as easily in our pajamas on the couch with a quart of ice cream, but whatever. We’ll do it your way tonight, but next time I get to choose.”
“Deal.” She kisses me on the cheek. “I’ll be coming straight from work, so I’ll meet you there. Have a good day.”
I gesture to the mess around me. “You’re just going to stiff me with all of this?”
“Sure am. Oh, and Nannabeth called earlier. She said if you don’t stop blocking her calls, she’ll be leaving embarrassing messages for you at work. Byeeeee!”
With that, she grabs her purse and heads out the door, leaving me alone with a stovetop completely caked in maple syrup and bacon grease.
Great. A disaster-zone of a kitchen to clean and a Nannabeth call? Thank God it’s Friday.
I throw down the rest of my breakfast and get to work cleaning up. Nannabeth will have to wait.
Scrubbing the stove takes longer than expected, and by the time I’m done I’m running late for my meeting with Derek
Lucky for me, he’s the patient, forgiving type who won’t tear me a new one for being tardy.
Yeah, right.
* * *
I’m juggling three coffees and have barely made it through the door, when Derek spots me from where he’s giving the advertising department a ‘pep’ talk.
“Tate! Where the fuck have you been?!”
I hold up the Starbuck’s tray and smile. “Stopped on the way here to get your fave, boss, but the line was insane.”
He eyes the cups suspiciously then gestures to his office. “Get your ass in t
here. I’ll be done in a minute.”
As he goes back to pointing to something on the screen and scaring the bejeezus out of one of our baby-faced interns, I make a quick detour to Toby’s desk.
“Mochaccino delivery,” I say, plonking the large cup on his desk. “Consider this partial payment for the illegal activities you’ve committed on my behalf so far, as well as the ones you’re likely to commit today.”
He picks up the cup and takes a sip. “God, I’m cheap, but never let it be said that I’m easy. Unless your sister asks. Then you can tell her I’m a complete slut.”
“Tate!”
I jump as Derek yells from his office doorway.
I smile at Toby. “Gotta go. If I don’t make it out of there, I want to be cremated and stuck into one of those containers that sprouts into a tree.”
“No problem. It’s totally cool if I plant you in a dog park, right?”
I flip him a sneaky bird behind my back as I hurry into Derek’s office and close the door behind me.
“Morning, boss.” I give him a sweet smile and place a Grande Latte in front of him. “Six sugars, just how you like it.”
He squints at me. “Why are you sucking up to me? Have you fucked up this Mister Romance thing already?”
“Not at all. I just thought you might like some coffee.”
“You’re not fooling me, Tate. You’re not that nice.”
“Sure I am. I bought one for Toby, too.”
“Toby’s your friend. I’m not. So, cut the bullshit and tell me where we’re at. Do you have his client list yet?”
“Well, no, but –”
“What about his identity? What’s his background?”
“Actually, it’s been kind of hard to nail him down as far as –”
“Do you at least have a physical description? He must be quite the stud to have all these women creaming themselves.”
“Ahhh, I haven’t quite seen him yet, but I think he may be blond.”
He slams down his coffee so hard, a glob of foam ejaculates onto his desk. “Christ, Tate, have you made any progress in the four days since I’ve seen you? What the hell have you been doing?”
I grit my teeth and tell my temper to stand down. “Derek, it’s not exactly easy to get to this guy. He’s like a ghost. But the good news is, after some long days of surveillance and many dead ends, I managed to have a conversation with him on the phone yesterday.”