Breathless (31 page)

You see, while I’d been at the Parisian fat camp, I was taught lots of things: how to speak in conversational French; how to be a well-spoken, mild-mannered hostess and hold a dinner party for twelve; how to appreciate art and classical music; and finally, how to sew and embroider. Unless you’re planning on being the First Lady, they’re all completely bullshit, except for the sewing classes.

When I returned home, I became a wee bit obsessed with the inventiveness of sewing. Once I got my own machine for Christmas, it became a full-on sweat shop in my bedroom. Mila had called me the sewing Tasmanian devil, and I guess I had seemed frenzied, spinning Dad’s old shirts into dresses and stitching pretty fabric into tea cozies for Aunt Portia. Making something out of nothing made me feel like I was important, like I had value.

So, I took my special fabric and pulled out a pin-up style skirt pattern I’d designed while at fat camp. I cut into the material, pinned it together, and got to work sewing. After a couple of hours, my new pencil skirt was finished, and I put it on, satisfied with the snug fit. In my closet I found a red satin, button-up shirt, which I put on, tying the last few buttons high above my waist, making it into a midriff-baring top. To finish it off, I slipped my feet into a pair of red Manolo heels I’d worn to one of the school’s formals.

I opened my purse and out of habit, checked to make sure my knife was inside. My knife had never failed me; it protected me from evil.

After that, I lifted my mattress up to get the coke I kept hidden there. It had been a while since I’d snorted it, but I didn’t want to think about that, didn’t want to remember that awful night. Yet, I knew if I truly wanted to be bad, then I needed to commit myself to it, and if cocaine made me forget, then what was I waiting for? I picked up the flat silver case and opened it, peering at the bag of white powder and tiny spoon that rested innocently inside. Finn had said this was the best. Expensive and guaranteed to get you happy.

Yes, this was coming with me tonight.

Before walking out the door, I gave the bottle of vodka a considering look, but in the end I left it there. I might want it later when I came back to this cold house and celebrated my birthday alone.

Chapter 10

Leo

“Destiny is a cruel bitch.”
–Leo Tate

Life is crazy, and sometimes it totally veers off course. Seriously, sometimes it flows by nice and smooth and then
wham!
you get bitch-slapped out of nowhere by events and coincidences that seem nigh unbelievable. Is this what the poets call fate or destiny or karma? Maybe. I didn’t know because I never read poetry, but I do write lyrics, so maybe that counts.

But as I looked across that movie lobby and saw Nora, I had to stop and ask myself
why
she kept popping up in my life. First it was at the restaurant and now here at this small theater, which shouldn’t even be on her grid since it only played classics or movies that were already on DVD. I’d think the mall would be where she’d watch movies; the same place Sebastian did.

She’d walked in with that flaming red hair, and my eyes had followed her as she’d sashayed over to the concession counter. And when she’d bent over to look inside the candy case, I’d sucked in a sharp breath, taking in her sweet ass in a cherry-covered skirt. My hands tightened into fists, remembering how she’d wanted me to use her in the bathroom at Ricardo’s. It had taken every shred of self-control I had to walk away from her and not give her what she’d wanted. She didn’t know it, but I’d hung around outside the restaurant until she left, making sure she didn’t end up with one of those sleaze balls from the bar.

I fingered the ticket stub in my hand, fully intending to head into my movie, but instead, I turned back around, and like an idiot, I found myself walking over to her.

“Don’t get the Milk Duds,” I said, sliding in to stand beside her.

She jumped a little when I spoke, but then looked me over coolly. “Really. Why not?”

“Because they’re called duds, so they can’t be good, right? Think about it, you know the milk part means chocolate, but what exactly is a dud? They should have called it Milk Loser. Means the same thing.”

“You’d prefer Milk Winner?”

I laughed. “Sounds better to me.”

“You should call Hershey’s and give them some consumer input,” she said with a small mouth twitch.

I chuckled and stared into her green eyes, and dammit, I didn’t want to, but I ended up naming all the flecks of colors I saw there: blue, brown, and aqua. I cringed inwardly . . . what guy thinks
aqua
?

“You’re pretty opinioned about candy, Leo.”

“That’s what happens when you own a fitness club.”

Her eyes widened. “If you brought raw nuts and celery, I’m never speaking to you again.”

I leaned in conspiratorially, feeling playful with her. “Shhh, it’s against the rules to sneak in food.”

She shook her head at me, her smile tilting up just a little bit more, and I found myself wanting to put a full grin on her face.

“Okay, what should I get?” she asked.

“Popcorn, of course, it’s a movie classic.”

“Butter?” she asked.

“It’s got about three days worth of artery clogging fat, plus trans fat and salt. I wouldn’t recommend it,” I said, chuckling at her dismayed face. I loved buttered popcorn, but I liked bantering with her.

She grimaced. “Okay, Dr. Oz, but what about the movie experience? Popcorn without butter is weird. And if I say something is weird, it
really
is.”

I laughed. “I would avoid the Raisinets, too.”

“This should be interesting,” she said, her eyes sparkling with glee. Ah, she liked my teasing.

I pointed at the raisin on the box we could see through the glass case. “Think about it. Underneath that chocolate is a small, dark, shriveled up food thing that used to be fat and juicy. But they fiddled with it. Tweaked it. Makes you wonder what else they did.”

“You know, you’re really starting to be a dud here,” she said, snickering.

“You guys are so cute. How long have you been dating?” asked the girl working the concessions, who’d been watching the back and forth between us.

Nora shot me a grin. “Him? Nah. He’s too old for me.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “There’s only seven years between us.”

“Six,” she said softly, looking shy all of a sudden.

“How’s that?” I asked.

“Today’s my birthday,” she said, shrugging. “I’m nineteen now.”

I stared at her blankly. Damn. Buttercup was a whole year older than I’d thought.

Nora turned to the counter girl. “I’ll take the extra large combo with a Diet Coke. Make it buttered, please.”

“Are you seeing
Casablanca
or
O Brother, Where Art Thou?
” I asked as the girl turned to make her soda.

“
O Brother
. What’s not to love about bluegrass and Homer? And George Clooney? Only one of the sexiest guys ever.”

I looked at her in surprise.

“What? You don’t think Clooney is hot? He is kinda old, I guess,” she chuckled, shooting me a little smirk.

“Just never took you for a Cohen Brothers fan . . . and, no, I do
not
think Clooney is hot.”

She laughed.

The counter girl put the huge tray down on the counter. “That’ll be twenty-six dollars.”

“We’ll take another soda, please,” I said, pulling out my wallet. I paid the new total and picked up the tray.

She looked at me with wide eyes. “Thanks for paying for mine, but you didn’t have to. It’s not like we’re on a date,” she said, following me as we turned around to head for the theaters.

“Yeah, well, we’re seeing the same movie, we may as well sit together,” I heard myself say.

She peered around me, like she was looking for someone. “Won’t Tiffany be mad?”

I cracked my neck and tried to sound nonchalant. Truthfully, I hadn’t asked Tiffany to come. “She couldn’t make it.”

She stood there for a moment, and I felt this prickle of unease go up my spine. Damn, was she here on a date? It
was
her birthday.

“Mila had to cancel on me and go to a family function,” she said. “So I guess this is a date.”

I tried to come up with a smart comeback, but I had nothing. What I should have said was
hell no, this ain’t no date
. But it seemed that being near her made me do insane shit. Truthfully, I felt a little intoxicated from being near her.

We walked in and found seats. She placed our large drinks in the cup holders while I balanced the tray on my legs.

“It’s hot in here,” she murmured, slipping out of her sweater and my eyes bulged at her tiny shirt. Shit, where was the rest of it? I fidgeted in my seat, cursing my body’s reaction to her. Thank God, we had an arm-rest between us. I still scooted as far from her as I could.

The lights dimmed and the movie previews started, but I couldn’t stop myself from sneaking glances at her, watching her as she watched the screen.

“It’s rude to stare, you know,” she said, taking a sip of her soda. I watched how her lips wrapped around the straw.

“Me?”

“Yes, you,” she said.

“Not staring.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Maybe I was looking at that spider crawling on your seat,” I said, wanting to shake her up a bit and make her as flustered as I felt.

“Liar,” she said.

I laughed out loud, liking how she called me out. “Okay, you got me. I was looking at your red hair. I like it.”

She blushed. “Thank you.”

I studied her. “You’re a mystery, Nora. I mean, why would you ruin my
car? Was it because I saw you in the parking lot at BA and didn’t help you out with your mom?” I asked, hoping I could get her to open up.

She peered into the popcorn bucket, and I regretted bringing it up. She’d said she was sorry and that she’d help Teddy.

She shrugged. “No, it wasn’t personal. There’s nothing you could have done that day anyway. She’s just like that. She blows up but then gets over it.”

I nodded but didn’t believe her. I’d seen Mrs. Blakely’s face. She’d looked evil. Like a freak really.

Our movie finally started, but I barely noticed because all I could think about was that we were together and alone, and she was easy to be with. “I like you,” I said impulsively, turning and holding her gaze with mine.

“Yeah?” she said, seeming pleased. “Why?”

I faltered, not sure about my words. “Because you’re like . . . I don’t know . . . a Lamborghini in a parking lot full of Kias. Special.”

Her lips parted and a tiny rush of air came out, like she was surprised. My breath quickened, staring at her lips. She’d worn this deep red lipstick that matched her hair, and it turned me on big time. She licked her lips, and I ached to kiss her mouth. I wanted to lick it, nip it, suck on it; I wanted to
own
it.

I wanted to give her a kiss she’d never forget.

I thought of that rush you get when you ride a roller coaster, how it climbs higher and higher and then does crazy twists and turns, and you feel like you just might fly right out of your seat. Would a kiss with Nora be like that? Would her mouth taste like the cherries on her skirt? Would the first flick of her tongue against mine send a bolt of pure lust straight to my dick? Would her skin smell like peaches?

I leaned in a tiny bit closer, feeling heady and strangely euphoric. If I could taste her lips one time, maybe I’d be content and this craziness would pass? But, deep down, I knew a simple kiss would
never
be enough with her. I’d want to fuck— I felt my phone buzz.

Sighing and looking away, I pulled it out of my pocket.

It was Tiffany.

Wanna meet back at your place later tonight? Say yes, and I’ll wear the pink nightie. xoxo

“Checking in with the ole girlfriend?” Nora asked as I put the phone away. “You know, I don’t think she’d like it very much that you’re here with me. The movies is way better than a date in the park.”

“
Not
my girlfriend, but yeah, it’s Tiffany.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I told you I don’t do relationships, and she knows that. She does what she wants, and so do I.”

She nodded seriously. “Yeah, I get it. She’s your fuck buddy.”

My entire body went hot as lava at her words, my pulse beating fast and furious as I pictured me with Nora, not Tiffany. Memories of her propositioning me at the restaurant kept playing through my head, how she’d described what she wanted, how she’d wanted me to take her from behind. Had she done that shit on purpose, knowing I’d drive myself crazy thinking about it?

I wondered if she’d ever made love in a movie theater. It was practically empty tonight. We could move to the back row, and she could sit in my lap while we tore into each other. I could wrap my hands in her long red hair and give her the ride of her life. No one would ever know. Unless she was a screamer.
Dammit.
I was losing my mind over this chick.

This had to stop.

***

After the movie, we walked back to the lobby, and while she went to the restroom, my mind was on her list again. I wondered who she was having sex with since I’d turned her down. I shouldn’t care, but I did.

She was probably fucking Cuba already. Or Sebastain. Or both.

I stood there, waiting for her to come out. Should I stay with Nora tonight, maybe talk to her about her list, or should I go be with Tiffany? But, I was lying to myself because I wanted more from Nora than talking. I wanted to do things with her I shouldn’t and being alone with her was dangerous territory.

Tiffany, on the other hand, was older, available, and knew we were short-term. She was the obvious choice. Yet, why did I feel like if I chose Tiffany, then I’d be giving up and missing out on a possibility that could be incredible? That, maybe, if I chose to stay with Nora, my life’s direction might swivel and change into something entirely different? Something I’d never known.

She came out of the restroom. And, damn, she looked spectacular, making me forget my own name as she strolled across that lobby in those red heels and tight as hell skirt. She shot me that sexy smile, and I got an instant hard-on. And yeah, seeing her walk toward
me
was like hearing the sweetest damn rock ballad ever, playing loud and clear in my head. You know the ones, songs about love and how you never believed it existed, until you met her; songs about how you’ve been alone for what seems like forever, but she’s gonna make it alright; songs about how you can’t breathe without her. Yeah. It was like that.