Private Pleasures (12 page)

No, scratch that, Drew would tell her point blank he was with someone else and hang up.

No, the night ahead would be just like every other night since she'd returned. Go home, catch up on emails in front of the TV for a few hours before bed. Then she'd haul her ass up at an ungodly hour to catch up on a few hundred more emails before she got to the office around seven.

It was a routine that had never bothered her before, so why did it seem so depressing now?

Because you know what else is out there, the sly little voice reminded her again. Now you know exactly what you're missing when you curl up with a stack of papers every night and then take yourself to bed... alone.

She shook off the thought as she reached her car and thumbed the keyfob to unlock her BMW.

"Wendy!"  

She'd know that voice anywhere, deep, raspy, wrapping around her like a warm blanket. She turned, and there he was, striding toward her. Just the sight of him, dressed in the standard California businessman outfit of gray slacks, dark shoes and a wool peacoat in deference to the weather, was a enough to send a shot of heat straight to her core. Her fatigue vanished as though she'd been shot with straight adrenaline.

She could deny it all she wanted, but as she felt her mouth pull into a wide smile, there was no getting around the fact that a big part of her was very happy to see him.

A sentiment he seemed to share, she noted with a little flutter in her stomach as she took in his own grin and look of what could only be delight on his face.

Drew, delighted to see her?  What was going on here?

As he jogged the last few steps to her, his smile never wavering, Wendy was hit with an inexplicable wave of nervousness.

What did she have to be nervous about, she inwardly scolded herself. They'd already been naked together and she'd made it clear there were no expectations on her side.

Still, that didn't stop them from staring at each other for several seconds, his big smile never leaving his face, his happiness at seeing her warming her from the inside out.

"I was hoping to catch up with you," Drew finally said.

"What are you doing here?" She replied, finally managing to untangle her tongue.

"I had a meeting with Martinez," Drew said, referring to one of the partners in her firm. "One of our portfolio companies needs help with a patent issue and we're hoping he can help out."

Wendy nodded, breathing a mental sigh of relief that Martinez hadn't won the fight to get her assigned to his team earlier that day. If she had, Wendy not only would have been in that meeting, she would have been obligated to reveal that she and Drew had been involved, regardless of the fact that nothing was going to happen beyond their two night stand.

"Anyway, when we set up the meeting over here, I was hoping I'd run into you."

Wendy cocked her head to the side. "You know, I've been back at work for two whole weeks. You could have called me."

The fluorescent lights of the parking garage cast his features in shadow, but she could see the subtle tensing of his jaw. "With the way you avoided me the last day at Holley Cay and left without so much as a 'thanks, it was great,' I figured the only way I'd get you to see me was if I caught you off guard."

There was no mistaking the edge in Drew's voice, and it took her several moments to process everything. One, that Drew wanted to see her again. Two, he seemed genuinely upset that she'd left without saying goodbye.

Looking back, she felt a little pinch of shame. Sure, she didn't need or want this to go anywhere, but if the shoe had been on the other foot, wouldn't she have at least expected a goodbye?  "I'm sorry, that was shitty of me to leave without even saying goodbye. But I didn't think—"

"What?"

"Didn't think you'd really care."

He gave a humorless laugh and shoved his hands in his coat pockets. "Yeah, well I was as surprised as you were."  

"Well, I'm sorry. That was very rude of me."

The tension faded from his face, the cocky grin replacing the scowl as he stepped closed. "Yeah it was, and now you owe me. Big time."

Wendy tightened her fingers around the handle of her briefcase in a desperate attempt to steady herself as dark promise in his voice sent pulse of heat between her thighs. "Oh yeah? What are you thinking?"

He stepped closer, close enough she could smell the subtle scent of his cologne, something clean and woodsy that tempted her to bury her face against the patch of his throat left exposed by his coat. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and she couldn't keep her tongue from darting out to lick her lips, as though she could still taste him there. "I think you know exactly what I have in mind."

"Tell me." She tilted her chin up in challenge.

He leaned down, and her lips tingled in anticipation of his kiss. "Dinner."

"What?" she said, startled.

"Let me take you to dinner."

That tight, nervous feeling was back. "You don't need to take me to dinner."

"Have you eaten already?"

At that moment, her stomach let out an embarrassingly loud rumble.

"Guess I have my answer," Drew said, his laugh echoing off the walls of the garage.

Wendy shook her head. "I don't think it's a good idea."

His laugh faded and his dark brows pulled together in a familiar frown. "I need to eat, you need to eat. What's the big deal?"

"Because it feels too much like—" a date. She cut herself off before the words could pass her lips.

"Like what?" Even though he asked the question, she could tell he knew what she was going to say. "It's just two people sharing a meal."

"With plans to have sex afterward." She snapped her mouth closed too late—she'd actually said that out loud.

This time Drew's grin had that cocky edge that used to set her teeth on edge. Now it made every cell in her body come to shimmering life. "I didn't say that."

And until she'd said the words aloud, Wendy didn't acknowledge that from the second Drew called her name, she'd known that the night would end with them in bed together. Wendy crossed her arms over her chest and cocked her hip, one eyebrow raised.

"I'm not saying it's not a brilliant idea."

He leaned in closer, his eyes so full of heat she could practically feel her skin sizzle. "But based on that roar your stomach just made, and the fact that I haven't eaten in hours, it's not a bad idea for us to get our strength up."

Still Wendy hesitated.

"Think of it as a training meal," Drew said, his voice light, the look in his eyes anything but.

Chapter 9

"Okay," Wendy conceded.

Drew mentioned a place a few blocks from her apartment. Wendy nodded.

"Don't you have a car?" Wendy asked as Drew went around the car and opened up the passenger side door.

"I took Muni," he said, referring to San Francisco's public bus system.

"Really?  A guy like you slums it on Muni?" Wendy asked as she slid into the driver's seat.

"What do you mean, a guy like me?" Drew asked, but instead of offended, he sounded genuinely interested in whatever her answer might be.

Wendy thought for a moment as she navigated her way out of the parking garage. "Successful, wealthy," she began. "I mean, you can afford to have a car in the city, and most guys in your position use the car as a status symbol to show off their success."

"Is that why you shell out for expensive German engineering when you live less than two blocks from the bus stop?"

"Touché. All I know is, most men I know in your position—Alan for example—wouldn't be caught dead taking the bus." She cringed as she said it, realizing how shallow that made Alan—and her by association—sound.

"I think we've established that despite working in the same office I'm nothing like Alan."

"No, I guess you aren't," Wendy said as she pulled out onto the street. As she negotiated the late evening traffic, she snuck glances at Drew's chiseled profile. No denying it, he was the opposite of Alan in so many ways. His hair dark to Alan's light. His features bordering on harshness, Alan's open and boyish. Drew tall and heavily muscled like a prizefighter. Alan rangy and slim like a golfer.

And then there was the way they acted in bed. Alan so solicitous and polite, constantly asking what she liked, if that was okay.

Drew didn't ask. He just knew. And he just took.

Suddenly the temperature inside the car seemed to go up about ten degrees.

"There's nothing wrong with the bus," Drew continued, oblivious to the lusty scenarios running through Wendy's head. "It's cheaper and more practical than driving around here, and I could give a shit if anyone cares about what I do or don't drive."

Though she was loathe to find more things to like about him, she couldn't deny she was impressed. She got it, choosing the bus over a car wasn't a Nelson Mandela like sacrifice, even for a man who was worth over half a billion dollars. But she realized now that what she'd always read as cockiness was actually supreme self-confidence, the kind that didn't need outside validation.

The kind she still didn't possess, and it meant that despite her success, she spent a lot of time worrying about how people saw her, how she was perceived by her peers and colleagues. After twenty-nine years and nearly a decade of practicing law, it was getting pretty exhausting.

"How self actualized of you," she said, wincing at the peevish tone in her voice.

"Nah, more like caring what people think about me was beaten out of me at a pretty young age. That's what happens when your mom leaves and your father has to work two jobs to keep a roof over your head. It doesn't leave a lot of time for self reflection."

Though his voice was flat and emotionless, Wendy couldn't keep from her mind the image of a young boy with dark hair and gray, serious eyes wondering why his mother had left him.

"Wow, I had no idea you came from that kind of background."  Though it had given him the drive and determination to succeed beyond what most people could barely dream—while still riding the bus—she felt something in her heart crack open for the little boy he'd once been.

He muttered something she couldn't quite make out but that sounded suspiciously like a curse. "Yeah, well, they're not exactly fond memories I like to bring up," he said, his tone clearly indicating he wanted the subject closed.

Though her brain was spinning with questions, she knew better than to press him.

By that time they had pulled onto the street where the restaurant was located. As expected, there wasn't an empty parking spot in sight. Rather than valet parking at the restaurant, Wendy parked in the driveway of her half of the split Victorian that housed her apartment, figuring they could walk the rest of the way.

"Yeah, well my mother was always trying to keep up with the Joneses, so to speak," she said as she grabbed her coat from the back seat. They started down the sidewalk. "So I learned early to worry about what I looked like, what I wore, everything about how I was perceived," she continued. "It was like I was suffocating," she said and as the words spilled out of her she wondered why she was revealing this, something she'd revealed only to Julie. "When I got out here it was like this weight was lifted and I could do what I wanted instead of worrying about what everyone—especially my mother—thought."

"She must be really proud of you now," Drew said. "You've been incredibly successful. Can't imagine she or anyone else can have any complaints."

They reached the restaurant, a cozy place that served great Mediterranean food. Warm air from inside hit her as they entered, but even the spicy, delicious scent of the food couldn't keep the scowl off her face as she remembered her last conversation with her mother.

The hostess smiled and greeted Drew by name, and quickly escorted them to a booth in the back corner of the restaurant.

"What's that look for?" Drew asked as he slid into the booth opposite Wendy.

"No reason," she said. The last thing she wanted was to burden Drew with some lame sob story about her difficult relationship with her mother.

"Come on," Drew said. "Don't tell me your folks aren't proud."

Wendy shrugged, and took a sip of the ice water the waiter placed in front of her. "Sure, they're proud. They were excited when I got into law school. But I think in my mom's head it was more of a vehicle to meet a husband than for me to have my own career. As soon as I joined Chapman, Cooper & Winters all I hear about is how I'm working too hard, I'll never get a guy to marry me if I don't slow down. How no man worth anything wants to marry a woman more successful than he is. And I guess she was right. Look what happened with Alan."

Drew sat back against the booth, his broad shoulders spanning nearly half of it. His mouth was pulled flat. "Alan's a tool who's no match for you. I thought we covered that."

Wendy let out a laugh that sounded suspiciously like a sob. "I wish you'd been there to break the news to my mother after he dumped me. Want to know what she said? 'You can't be surprised Wendy. You can't expect him to feel like the priority in your life if you're going to be spending time in that silly office of yours." She lifted her hands up in a surrender pose. "Two hundred thousand dollars worth of law school, thousands of hours spent on cases worth billions of dollars, and in her mind I'm wasting my time in some silly office."

"That's why it's easier just not to care."

"I know," she said slumping back against the booth. "But every time she sends me another clipping from the local paper about another one of my high school friends getting married with a little post it note saying, 'this could have been you', I want to tear my hair out."

Drew smiled a little then.

"I get it, she was happy with her life and wants me to have the same, a nice house in the suburbs and a nice husband who earns enough money to keep me in style."

"You'd be bored out of your mind." Drew interjected.

"I know," Wendy said, "or at least I think I would. I mean, don't get me wrong, I want to get married and have a family and all that stuff, but right now I want to push myself, get as far as I can get, and not feel like I already have to choose one path or the other."