Darker Water (9 page)

“Try this one.” It was a man’s voice, not the
saleswoman’s.

“Carson?”

“Hurry up and try it on. I only have two
hours to go home, get dressed, do my hair, and meet the woman I’m
not dating for a drink I’m not going to drink.”

I felt the fabric of the dress he’d picked
out and immediately knew it was out of my price range. Then I
looked at myself in the mirror. The dress I already had on was
perfect…for someone else. On me, it gaped near the arms and pulled
across my chest.

“Hurry up,” he called.

I took the last failure off and slipped on
the dress Carson had tossed me. It was perfect. For me.

When I opened the door, he let out his
breath. “You look…the complete opposite of crap.”

“Thank you.” That was probably as close to a
compliment as I was going to get. “How’d you know it would fit so
perfectly?”

“Because I do nothing but stare at your body
when we’re together.” Just like he was doing now, his eyes running
the length of my body, covetous. And it wasn’t of the dress. “Take
it off and let’s go.”

“I wish. I’m about ninety-nine-point-nine
percent sure it’s out of my price range.” I couldn’t find the tag
until I looked at him and saw it in his hand. “Why do you have
that?”

“You’re gonna owe me a lot more Getting Handy
lessons.” Then he walked away. “Get dressed. We need to go.”

“Carson, wait! You can’t buy it for me.” It
was so pretty, though, perfectly snug on the top, draping
gorgeousness on the bottom. He’d already made up his mind and
nothing I said would change it. Plus, I would never, ever be able
to afford it and it was so beautiful and it fit me so well and…

No. “Carson!”

I ran back into the dressing room to grab my
purse, carefully taking the dress off and yanking my own clothes
back on, not bothering with shoes. When I got to him, the
saleswoman asked him if he wanted his receipt emailed to him.

“I can’t let you do that,” I said.

“It’s just an email, Lane,” he said without
turning. “I think I can handle it.”

The saleswoman laughed, taking the dress from
me and wrapping it up. “Do you need shoes? Nylons?”

I said no at the same time Carson said
yes.

“No, thank you. I have shoes.” Not nice
enough for this dress, but I had a pair.

As we walked through the store, I held onto
the box as if it was the most valuable thing I’d ever owned, which
it may have been.

“You shouldn’t have done that, but thank
you.” It felt so inadequate, but what else could I do?

“Don’t think you’re getting it for free,” he
said as we cut through the men’s department. “You’re buying me a
drink at this thing tonight.”

“I think it’s an open bar.”

“Then you’re buying me a few drinks at this
thing tonight.”

“If I get you drunk, will you let me take
advantage of you?” I teased.

“Alright, that’s it,” he growled. He took the
dress box from me, picked me up, plopped my ass on a display of
jeans, and nudged my knees apart so he could stand between them. “I
tried to be patient. I really did, but this friend thing
sucks.”

“Umm…” I took a quick breath when he put his
hands on my thighs. “You know we’re in public, right?”

“So?” He was really close, looking intense
and amused and completely focused on me.

“So people are staring.”

“The place is practically empty.”

“But not completely.” I looked over his
shoulder, seeing the stares of a few customers but no employees.
“There are three guys and—”

“Any women?”

“One, but her mortification only lasted as
long as a quick glance. Men are slower.”

“True, but we’re also better at
prioritizing.” He moved a tiny bit closer. At least, I think he was
the one who moved. Either way, I was in trouble. “Why do you think
they’re staring?”

“Probably because some nutcase has a girl on
a display case in the middle of a store.”

“You’re wrong. They’re staring because they
wish they were exactly where I am right now, with their hands
exactly where mine are.” He ran them up to my hips. “Since the poor
guys aren’t that lucky, I figure letting them stare isn’t a big
deal.”

My heart was pounding so hard, it would be a
miracle if he didn’t hear it.

“Next thing,” he said. “I’m now going to try
a less subtle approach to convince you a sexual relationship
doesn’t have to come with a romantic one. I’m assuming you know the
reason behind this.”

“You haven’t exactly been vague.” Is it
possible to die of nervousness? “But I don’t think this is that
kind of store.”

“You’re right. Let’s go somewhere more
appropriate.” He yanked me by the hand, giving me just enough time
to grab my new dress. When he pulled me into the dressing room
area, I finally started wondering why I was letting him do whatever
this was. He glanced around, took a credit card out of his wallet,
and fiddled with the lock to one of the rooms.

“What are you—?”

“You don’t really think this is my first time
sneaking into a women’s dressing room, do you?” The lock clicked
open. “It’s either this or the bathroom. And trust me, bathroom
stalls aren’t made for two people who aren’t…intimately connected,
if you get my meaning.” His meaning was gotten and imagined and
wanted. But not like this—not here, not now. “I’ll take you there
as soon as I can. Promise.”

“You know, a place where we’re actually
allowed
to go might be even better.”

“Those are all too far away. I’ll try to make
it quick—the discussion, not what I hope the discussion will lead
to.” He yanked me inside the small space and locked the door.

I pressed my back to the wall as if that
would actually do anything. The door was behind him, and even
I
didn’t want him to open it yet.

“Tell me all the components of a romantic
relationship,” he said. “Even the little ones. Pretend I don’t know
any of them…’cause I don’t.”

“Um… You have to like the person.”

“Simple start, okay. Do you like me?”

“Yes.”

“Bummer,” he said, smiling. “What else?”

“Attraction.”

“You’re insanely attracted to me, so that
makes another point not in my favor. Keep going.”

I was throwing out anything I could think of.
I didn’t know how to define a romantic relationship. “Sex.”

“Well, that’s the grand prize, but only if
the other issues are taken care of. Next.”

“Chemistry?”

“Shit,” he grumbled, but there was humor in
his tone. “This isn’t looking good for me. It may have been a bad
idea to bring it up. We’ll see soon enough. Next.”

I was running out of answers. “A spark?”

“Okay, in my opinion, this one and the last
two aren’t exclusive to a romantic relationship, so let’s hold off
judgment until later. Next.”

“Some kind of romantic feeling, I guess.”

“You guessing isn’t actually that helpful.
What we need is—” Damn, his smile was wicked. “I have an idea.” He
stepped in close to me, held my face between his hands and brushed
his lips over mine. Soft, then a little harder but still gently,
taking his time. I opened my mouth to his tongue, my hands sliding
up his chest. I didn’t know how this was going to prove anything
other than he’d basically perfected the art of kissing, but I went
with it. Because…well, because he’d basically perfected the art of
kissing.

Then, without warning, he pulled away and
whistled. “Wow, okay. Yeah, okay. Damn it.” He rested his forehead
against mine and took a deep breath. “I need you to be completely
honest with me right now. Okay?”

I swallowed, knowing it was a bad idea but
ready to say yes. To anything.

“Lane?” He tipped my chin up so I was looking
directly at him. “Did you just fall in love with me?”

I shoved him back when he started laughing.
“You’re such a shithead! Stop making fun of me when you’re even
weirder than I am.”

“Re-do then.” Before I understood what that
meant, what any of this meant, he kissed me again. Still slowly,
but way more deeply. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he pulled
me into him. I rose onto my tiptoes when he squeezed my ass,
holding onto the fabric of my jeans to get me closer. It was like
in the stairwell but even better because we knew each other now,
understood the other’s likes and—

Oh my god, I liked this. So much, I would
happily stay here and do this for the next few years.

He finally pulled away, wiping my lower lip
with his thumb and leaving his hands cradling my face. “Fuck.”
Nothing in his expression held humor. “I don’t know what I’m going
to do if this doesn’t work, Lane.”

I didn’t either. This much stress couldn’t be
good for my heart.

After a moment of silence, he leaned against
the wall, creating a little bit of space between us. “We’ve
confirmed that we like each other, are attracted to each other, and
the chemistry and spark are definitely there. If they weren’t, I
wouldn’t want to rip your clothes off so fucking badly right now.
We’ve also done something that’s traditionally a romantic thing to
do—the kiss, not sneaking into a dressing room. So, do you?”

“I…” I wouldn’t have stopped him. If he
hadn’t pulled away, I would’ve let him take my clothes off and I
would’ve taken off his. I would have run my lips over all the skin
I constantly caught myself imagining the taste of, and then wrapped
my legs around his waist. I would’ve fucked him against the wall of
Nordstrom’s dressing room even if it screwed up everything between
us and turned me into the weak, weeping lunatic I’d been six months
ago.

“Please tell me I can I have you without it
messing with your head,” he said, adjusting himself.

I didn’t know. I wouldn’t know how I’d feel
until it happened. That was the problem. If he wasn’t so gorgeous
and great, things would be a lot easier. Of course, if he wasn’t so
great, I wouldn’t want him so badly, either. Damn him. This was
totally his fault.

He looked a little nervous. “What are you
thinking?”

“I’m still thinking you’re a shithead.”

“Excellent,” he said, laughing. “Then I
really think you should consider letting this shithead have his way
with you. But I’d suggest it happen somewhere you can lie down
after you’ve come so hard you can’t stand up anymore.”

He was the devil.

Someone pounded on the door. “If you don’t
come out immediately, I’m calling security.”

“Have you ever been arrested?” he asked. When
he opened the door, an older woman was glaring at us, one hand on
her hip.

“Sorry, ma’am,” he said with sincerity. “We
didn’t mean to cause any trouble. She and I are just friends, but I
really want to be more. So I have to take every opportunity I can
to convince her how great we’d be together.”

The woman’s face softened and she glanced
back and forth between us. Her reaction might have been different
if she knew what kind of ‘more’ Carson wanted.

He spoke to the woman, but his eyes never
left mine. “Have you ever wanted someone so badly that using common
sense doesn’t make sense anymore?”

“Once. A very long time ago.” She sighed. “If
you want to impress her, you should take her somewhere nicer than a
dressing room, though.” As we passed, she touched my arm. “You
never know what you might get until you try. But if you
don’t
try, you’re sure to get nothing.”

My mouth dropped open. Was she kidding? “Did
he pay you to say that?”

Carson thanked her and pulled me away. “She
seemed awfully wise, didn’t she? Maybe even psychic. Although, I
know
exactly
what you’ll get when you try. And you’re going
to love it.” He winked. “But not
that
kind of love.”

I unhappily said goodbye to Lane. Did it
actually take two hours to put on a dress and twist her hair into a
pile on the top of her head? I’ve had a fair amount of experience
helping a woman take off her clothes and let her hair down, and it
never took longer than thirty seconds. A minute if we were drawing
it out. But I let her go do her thing and planned to meet her at
the gallery so her roommate didn’t think we were actually together.
Because evidently, her roommate wasn’t smart enough to understand
the words:
We’re not together.

Unfortunately for Lane, her nervousness about
that gave me an idea. She needed a lesson in not caring about what
other people thought of her. I wasn’t planning on embarrassing her
publicly, because this event involved her art. I knew how to be
subtle. It just seemed like too much work most of the time.

She called just as I pulled up to the valet.
“We’re waiting in the lobby. Where are you?” Yep. Definitely
nervous.

“I’m still doing my hair. Probably won’t be
there for another half hour.”

“Are you serious?”

“No. I’m around the corner. I’ll meet you
inside at the bar.” I tossed my keys to a covetous kid who was
probably already planning to have a really hard time finding a spot
to park my ride and would need to take it around the block a few
times to find one.

“Don’t fuck it up,” I said to the valet.

“What?” Lane asked.

“Nothing. Just talking to my dick.” I went up
the steps, stopping as soon as I saw her through the window. Nice
choice on the dress. However many pennies it had cost me, it was
worth all of them. “When I get there, I expect you to have a drink
ready for me. Nothing with an umbrella.”

“We have the invitation. How will you get
in?”

“Do you seriously think I don’t know how to
crash a party? I’ll see you at the bar.” Before she could say
anything else, I hung up. She made a face at the phone before
putting it into her purse and saying something to Eric and a woman
who had to be Hillary.

I’m not sure why I hesitated. Just to gawk at
her uninterrupted, or to see how many eyes she drew as she walked
through the crowd? She had no fucking clue how many heads turned.
It was sweet and naïve, but screamed insecurity. Probably a gift
from the assholes she’d dated. They weren’t frogs, they were
idiots.