Victoria's Got a Secret (14 page)

“Apparently you’re perfect for me.” He said it with enough suffered amusement to make Jennifer laugh.

She played along. “And I hear I will adore you.”

“Aren’t we the lucky ones?”

Yeah, charming.
“Sounds like we could be.”

“May I walk you ladies to your car?” He held out his arm for them to lead the way. “Wouldn’t want you to be attacked by a horde of rampaging Easter bunnies.”

His joking wiped out her grumpiness. “Is that a problem in this part of town?”

“Everywhere, actually. Very serious stuff.” He winked at her before stepping ahead to hit the elevator button. “Would you two like to go down with me?”

Jennifer burst into laughter as she fell into the elevator car. “Wow.”

“I have better lines, but you caught me off guard. I promise to work on that.”

They slipped inside and stood side by side at the back of the elevator. Their shoulders touched, and Heather smiled from a safe distance at the front of the car.

“Off guard?” Jennifer asked.

“Heather kept telling me you were pretty and smart and lovely.”

Jennifer shot her sister a smile. Maybe she’d let Heather live after all. “And?”

“You should have heard the description. Quite unbelievable. Frankly, I worried she was lying.” He tipped his head toward Jennifer’s. “Now I know she wasn’t.”

“What do you do?”

“Am I being tested?” Preston looked back and forth between them. “This sounds like a woman thing.”

Jennifer let that go and skipped ahead to her question. “I’m just trying to figure out what a guy who throws out lines like that does for a living.”

“I’d like to say something clever like power broker, but the real answer is contract specialist. I put together talent with companies who need it.”

“That’s how we met,” Heather said. “Preston has been assembling a marketing team for my office.”

“Interesting,” Jennifer said.

His eyebrow shot up. “Is it?”

Jennifer burst out laughing. “I’m actually not sure.”

They walked out of the lobby and to the car, talking about work and mindless stuff along the way. When he got to the driver’s side, he crouched down on his haunches and peeked under the car.

Jennifer glanced at her sister and saw confusion. That made two of them. Jennifer gave in to the urge to ask. “What are you doing?”

His eyes narrowed with serious intent. “Checking for those killer bunnies.”

The delivery was so dead-on perfect that the laughter bubbled up inside her and spilled out again before Jennifer knew what was happening. Heather gave a snort, too.

“I see,” Jennifer said when she finally found control again. She knew right then she was going to have to give in on this one. “Are we safe then?”

“For now. But I can’t promise you’ll be safe at dinner.”

She appreciated both the smooth style and his ability to get right to the point. “Ah, dinner.”

“Since the attack has been thwarted, I’ll go ahead and get in the car.” Heather pointed to the door, and when no one tried to stop her, she climbed in.

“I’m assuming you do eat dinner every now and then.” Preston leaned against the driver side, blocking Jennifer’s way if she wanted to climb in.

She suddenly didn’t. “Sometimes, yes.”

“Any chance I can convince you to try a meal with me? This evening, maybe?”

She flipped her hair back over her shoulder and tried to remember the last time she made that move. “I have plans this weekend.”

He winced. “Another man beat me to the question, I guess.”

“I’m going away with Heather.”

“That sounds more promising . . . for my future dinner plans with you, I mean.”

“I’ll be back on Monday.”

He nodded to her. “Then I’ll call you on Monday.”

When he turned away, she called him back. “Don’t you want my number?”

He winked. “Oh, I have it.”

Paul’s band had just finished its last set. He was hot and sweaty and completely invigorated. A little past 1:00 am and the pounding beat and swell of the music still played in his head.

The guys had brought it home tonight. Under the lights with the crowd electrified, they’d done it. People sang along, danced and swayed. It was a dream come true even if it was a side job, one he did for the pure enjoyment of it rather than the need for an extra paycheck.

Paul downed half of his beer before he saw the woman sitting next to him at the bar. He smiled. She smiled back. He was growing accustomed to the musician’s side benefit of female attention. Something about being up on that stage and playing drums acted like a magnet to women.

After almost every set he got an offer for action. A guy could learn to like the groupie scene.

He hadn’t had a serious steady since Jennifer. And despite Tracie’s attachment, when he moved into the warehouse district she was furious, like he betrayed her in some way, and she stopped talking to him. So he didn’t have her in his life either.

Truth was, he had never been fair to Tracie. He said no to the idea of being a couple, but he accepted her friendship to hold off the boredom. It would have been fairer to put distance between them and let her move on since nothing was ever going to happen there.

Looked like he was one of those guys who gave his heart once and never again. If true, he’d used up his one shot with Jennifer. The one who got away and stayed there.

“Can I buy you another?” The woman touched his hand as she spoke. “I’m sure you’ve worked up quite a thirst.”

He really looked at her then. Petite with long blonde hair and big brown eyes. She was more than pretty. She hovered in the knock-out range. He couldn’t make out that much of her since she was sitting on a barstool, but the slim jeans and enticing shadow between her breasts, just where the neckline dipped low, told him the body matched the face.

From his experience, pretty meant tough to handle. Sometimes it meant crazy. He’d spent three weeks with an aspiring actress and never knew which personality would open the door when he knocked. No way was he going down insanity alley again.

“I’m Paul.” He held out his hand, and she slid hers inside.

“Wendy.”

He refrained from picking up every cute music fan who crossed his path. Being the guy a woman wanted to try on the side or when drunk or just when she wanted to try a musician wasn’t really his thing.

But he wasn’t dumb enough to turn down a sure thing who happened to be really hot. “You like music, Wendy?”

“I like yours.” She twirled her glass, letting the brown liquid dance. “Do you play at other places?”

“Why?”

“I might want to see you again.” She crossed her legs.

The move had his gaze traveling all over her. He tried to be subtle but realized he’d failed when she sent him a sexy I’m-yours-anytime smile.

A smile he wanted to see again. “We can meet up somewhere else or you can continue to see me right now.”

“That sounds good.”

“Which part?”

“All of it.”

He liked her style. Blunt and self-confident. Those were pretty sexy traits in a woman.

“Do you have a preference?” Wendy asked.

He needed a shower and a good night’s sleep. Being alone was the smart way to go. Heading out was the responsible thing to do.

Screw that.

She made her intentions clear. So would he. “Want to get a table? We can talk for awhile.”

“Is that what you really want to do, Paul?”

The green light flashed in front of him. “No, but I was trying to be a gentleman.”

“I’m impressed.”

The exhaustion left his bones. The inevitable crash that came hours after pouring everything into the music didn’t threaten to overtake him. As the minutes ticked by, he got more keyed up not less.

That could only mean one thing. This lady was doing something for him. Something he wasn’t about to ignore. “But I’d be just as happy to talk back at your place.”

Her gaze toured his face. Whatever she saw must have worked for her because she dragged a pen out of her purse and jotted down a few lines on her drink napkin. “I’ll meet you there in ten minutes.”

“We can share a ride.”

She slipped off the barstool. “A smart woman doesn’t leave her car behind.”

And a smart man didn’t question his luck. “I’ll be in your driveway by the time you open the door.”

Fifteen

Not every relationship has to be forever
but be sure to know the difference.

—Grandma Gladys, The Duchess

P
RESTON HANDED THE MENU TO THE WAITER
. “S
HE’LL
have the fish.”

Jennifer lowered her napkin to her lap and stared across the white linen to the other side of the table. She waited until the waiter left the table to say anything. “I was thinking of a steak.”

“Too heavy.”

“Me or the meat?”

“You’ll love the fish.” Preston smiled at her over the top of his wine glass. “Trust me.”

“This isn’t really a trust issue.”

He winked at her. “Wouldn’t you rather talk about something else?”

“I’d rather have the steak,” she muttered at his dismissal.

“Jennifer,” he said in that warning tone that made her jaw snap shut.

“What?”

“We are in this beautiful restaurant on this lovely night.” He reached across the table and folded her hand in his. His thumb traced her knuckles as his voice slipped into husky territory.

“Surely we can think about other things to discuss.”

She tried to block out the warning bells ringing in her ears.

“Like what?”

He pulled his hand back. “Anything would be preferable.”

“Of course.”

But she couldn’t block out the growing tentacles of dread. They wrapped around her and squeezed until she couldn’t breathe.

At first she’d thought his habit of ordering for her was sexy, kind of chivalrous. It showed off his knowledge of wines and love of food. After an unending menu of fish and salad, she wondered if something else was at play.

She’d lost more than ten pounds since they started dating. She wasn’t dieting, but he seemed to be monitoring and guiding her food choices.

She hated that.

She glanced around the upscale restaurant. All the men wore expensive suits and sat with women clad in elegant black dresses. They gave off an air of careful perfection. She sensed it hid a chilling cold inside.

Silverware clanked and almost none of the couples engaged in conversation. It was as if the universe threw together a bunch of random, well-dressed strangers and forced them to sit down to eat. No matter how hard she tried, Jennifer couldn’t pick out a single twinge of warmth in the room.

Her gaze wandered to Preston as he signaled for the waiter. Their clothes mirrored everyone else’s seated at the round tables outlining the room’s central fireplace. At least on the outside. Underneath, she wore the lacy matching underwear and thighhighs he’d purchased for her and laid out on the bed as she showered.

After only ten months he’d fallen into the habit of picking out her underwear and her food. It made her worry about what he’d try to control by the time they hit the twelve-month mark. If they even made it that far.

Some days she wanted to end it. Others, the relationship fed her like a drug.

“I found a place.” She dropped the conversation nugget even knowing it could touch off a prickly debate.

He froze in the act of swirling his wine. “When?”

“This afternoon.”

He blinked twice. “On your own?”

Sometimes he acted like she needed a chaperone to go to the bathroom. Never mind that she had a college degree and high-powered job. “My apartment lease is up.”

“Yes, I understand that.”

“Well, I couldn’t wait any longer. I didn’t have a choice.” Never mind the fact she snuck away to handle it without him. It was cowardly and dumb, but she didn’t want the hassle. Picking an apartment was personal and shouldn’t require a verbal battle.

“We talked about this.”

“No, you talked about this.”

He frowned at her before waving the poor requested waiter away from their table. “Why are you acting like a child?”

“You mean, like I have a brain.” She couldn’t stop pushing him, despite the rage she saw burning in his eyes.

“Is now really the time for this?”

She glanced at the table next to theirs and saw a fifty-something woman staring back. “I guess not,” she mumbled.

“Exactly. There’s no reason for us not to move in together.”

She knew he would keep at it until she caved. That was their pattern. She held firm, he poked, and she gave in out of pure exhaustion. Sometimes it was just easier not to argue.

But she tried anyway. “I’m not ready.”

“That is ridiculous.”

“Why?”

He broke his rule and put his elbows on the table. The move allowed him to stretch across the table and lean in closer. “We already spend every evening together.”

“Not quite.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why are you afraid?”

Because she wasn’t dumb. “I’m not.”

“Listen.” He held his hand to his ear. “Do you hear it?”

“What?”

“The patter of feet.”

“What?”