Can't Touch This (35 page)

“It’s the key to that stupid tradeshow booth.  My albatross.”

Kyle brings the car to a halt at the red light—the one that holds forever—and looks at the tiny piece of metal in my hand.

“Hold on, I’ll be right back.  Don’t leave me.”

“Vanessa... wait...”

I unlock my seat belt and jump out of the car.  Scrambling across two lanes of traffic, I cross the grassy bank to the railing of the Charles River.  With every ounce of strength I can muster, I toss the silver key as far as I can; watching the water plunk as the key hits the surface.  I brush my hands together.  My virtue may be a little rusty, but I still have my pride.  And my sense of humor.  They’ll never take that away from me.

I jog back to the car just as the light turns green.

Kyle smiles from ear to ear and says, “You’re completely adorable.”

I capture his chin between my thumb and forefinger, plant a big wet kiss on his lips, and say, “No, you are.”

“No one can ever tell us ‘can’t touch this,’ ever again,” he says.

“Absolutely not.”

Steering down Memorial Drive, he looks over at me with an evil grin.  “So, your place or mine?”

“Mine’s pretty close.”

“Do you have a
really
tiny bathroom we can take advantage of?” he teases.

I lift my eyebrow at him, sure I’m beaming happiness like I never have before.  “Even better, I have a king sized bed.”

There’s a wicked gleam in Kyle’s eyes.  He reaches over, takes my hand, and brings it to his lips.  “That sounds absolutely perfect to me.”

Yes, it does.

Resisting Temptation, Book #2

Chapter One

I
 walk into
the room full of party goers and tamp down my jealousy.  This should be
my
engagement party.

But it’s not.  Not yet.

I move deeper inside Alibi, the restaurant in the Liberty Hotel, and cut a straight path through the crowded room to one of the guests of honor.  My best friend, Vanessa Virtue.

“That’s the biggest diamond ring I’ve ever seen!” I hear our friend Marina Baye say way too loudly.

Of course, I’ve already seen the brand new, sparkly two-carat engagement ring— in the platinum setting with baguette diamond accents on either side of the larger stone.  Yes, I checked out the details online.  Major dime spent.

“Kyle really blew me away with it,” a blushing Vanessa says.  Her vibrant smile speaks volumes about her overwhelming joy.

I snag a cold glass of golden champagne from a passing waiter and tip it in my friend’s direction.  Vanessa’s eyes light up and she waves me over.

“Griz!  You finally made it.”  She hugs me to her.

Griz is the ridiculous nickname Vanessa dubbed me when I’d confessed my obsession with the musical “Cats.”  I can’t explain it.  It’s just a story I’ve always adored.  My idol is Grizabella the Glamour Cat, the downtrodden soul who rose to a new life.  Isabella Perry, my real name, is way too close to Grizabella, so the nickname stuck.

“Sorry, Double V,” I explain and then take a sip of the bubbly.  “I had to work late and it took forever to get over here on the T.”

Vanessa’s brows furrow.  “I thought Rick was bringing you over?”

I shrug.  “Guess he got caught up at work, too.”

Marina gushes more over Vanessa’s new jewelry and relationship status.  “I can’t believe you’re
finally
engaged.  I called last week when I saw that you’d changed your relationship status on Facebook, but you never answered the phone.”

A blush crosses Vanessa’s cheeks.  “Kyle and I were sort of, umm, occupied.”

I down more champagne as my face heats at the thought of Vanessa and Kyle
in flagrante
.  It’s been so long since I’ve had anything
in fla-me
that I think I’ve forgotten how to do it.

As Marina and Vanessa keep chatting, I glance around the restaurant in search of my other half, Rick Churchman.  Over in the corner, I see Vanessa’s boyfriend—now fiancé—laughing it up with a group of his friends.  Rick is conspicuously absent, I note.  Probably stuck on the Red Line like I had been.  Of course, I know people here at the party are talking.  Things they won’t say to my face, rather what they’re thinking.  Rick and I’ve been dating longer than Vanessa and Kyle and our collective group of friends assumed that Rick and I would take the plunge first.

So did I.

I swallow the lump in my throat as I watch Vanessa flitting through the room.  It’s as though she’s floating over the hardwood floor in her happiness haze.  My emotional overload has nothing to do with jealousy of Vanessa and Kyle’s situation.  However, I do envy the hell out of my friend’s amazing piece of jewelry and what it symbolizes: 
commitment
.

Vanessa comes up behind me and places her bejeweled hand on my arm.  “You’re next, Griz.  I just know it.  Rick’s crazy about you.”

Laughing nervously, I stare out the window at the sparkling snow.  A fire crackles away filling the room with warmth and glow… or maybe that’s just coming from Vanessa.

I stretch my neck toward the door, wondering where Rick is.  He should be here by now.

“Griz!  Did you hear what I said?” Vanessa asks.  “Next thing you know, Rick will be buying you a diamond.”

If Rick and I were having one-third of the sex that Kyle and Vanessa were, I might agree with her.  However, Rick and I have been working too hard, too late, too long, and haven’t been the couple we used to be.  Hell, we don’t even live together.  He lives with a friend of his from high school and I live in Vanessa’s old apartment with our fabulously gay best friend, William McEwan.  How can we commit to each other when we can’t even sign a lease together?

I shuck off the internal conflict swirling through my brain and turn to my friend.  “Tonight’s about you and Kyle,” I remind her, trying to deflect the conversation.  Vanessa’s not having any of it, though.

Vanessa scowls at me.  “Come on, you and Rick have been together for two years.  It’s the next natural step.”

I glance at my empty champagne glass.  “The next natural step for me is finding that waiter with the bubbly stuff.”

Vanessa shrugs and rolls her eyes.  “Fine.  Avoid the subject.”

“It’s what I do best,” I say with a laugh.  Not thinking about the fact that Rick and I haven’t had sex in five months keeps me from going stark raving mad.  Or crying like a baby in a green-monstered jealousy fit that my best friend is beating me to the altar.  Of course I want to get married to Rick.  I wouldn’t have spent the last two years of my life with him if I didn’t think it was going somewhere or he wasn’t The One.

Vanessa lifts another flute from the drink tray and passes it over to me.  “Tell me what’s going on with Rick and you.”

I steady my breath.  Okay, she went there.  “Look, Rick and I haven’t exactly been intimate lately.”  My cheeks warm at the admission.  Vanessa and I don’t normally dish details of our sex lives—although I did hear about how she and Kyle first did it on an airplane—however, right now, I feel compelled to confess.  “It’s been almost five months,” I say barely above a whisper.

“Five months since what?”

I blow out the breath I’ve been holding.  “Since Rick and I’ve,
you know
.  Had sex.”

Vanessa’s eyes widen and she gasps dramatically.  “That doesn’t seem feasible.  We’re still young and no one’s saving themselves these days.”

I flatten my lips, wishing I hadn’t told my friend the truth.  “It’s feasible… and it’s my life.”

“Oh Griz!” Vanessa’s eyes grow sympathetic of my plight.  “Why haven’t you told me?”

“It’s not something I want to brag about over cocktails,” I say, sipping mine.

Vanessa lowers her voice and asks, “How the hell do you survive?  Do you service yourself weekly?”

“Vanessa, stop sounding like a guy!  I don’t need this right now.”  Not from Queen Get-a-Lot’a (whom I love) and her kazillion dollar engagement ring.  And her mapped out future.

“I’m sorry, Griz.  I’m just trying to help,” she says and then turns to hug someone who just arrived at the party.

Standing there, I feel like I’m going to black out as little ants seem to be crawling over my field of vision.

It hits me.  Hard.

Oh.  My.  God.

Vanessa and Kyle are getting married.

Then, the next thing I know, they’ll have a mortgage on a house in the ‘burbs and pets and children and a minivan.  The lump returns to my throat, threatening me to choke on the reality that is my life.  I work twelve hour days, I eat frozen Lean Cuisines, and I barely see the man who’s supposed to be in love with me.  I suddenly feel all alone, as if the pairing off of the human species is a new thing and I should be surprised.

Vanessa turns back to me.  “That was Kyle’s cousin who works out at Boston College.”  Then she pauses.  “All couples are different.  You and Rick are simply going through a dry spell.  It happens to everyone.”

I stare up at her through my blurred vision.  “Have you and Kyle had a dry spell?”

Her silence is a dead giveaway.

“See.”

“Look, everything will be okay,” she assures me.  “You two are meant for each other.”

Just then Kyle steps through the crowd, moving in our direction.  His gorgeous face lights up when he sees Vanessa.  Like she’s the only woman—the only person—not only in the room, but in the entire world.

My heart skips a beat watching her rush into his arms for an affectionate kiss.  Yeah, I want that, too.  Happily ever after
has
to be in the cards for me, too.  I just know it.  Rick and I just need to reconnect.  We can’t let life’s busy-ness get in the way of our love.  Tonight, I’m going to make sure that changes.

“What’s with the water works, Isabella?” Kyle asks.

“I’m just amazingly happy for you guys,” I say honestly.

Kyle wraps his arm around Vanessa and stares over my shoulder.  “Hey, look who finally decided to show his ugly mug!”

I turn to see Rick shucking off his coat at the door.  His usually short blond hair has grown out a bit lately and really sets off his green eyes.  Eyes that seem a bit too tired and weary for someone who is only thirty years old.  He’s got a stern jaw, chiseled features, and a body for sin—from what I remember.  My chest aches in delicious memories as I gawk at him and think of the possibilities.  I can so see me married to a gorgeous man like Rick Churchman.

Mrs. Rick Churchman.

Isabella Perry Churchman.

Maybe I’ll drop my maiden name.

We will have
the most
adorable children, too.  Despite all of my freckles.  Rick’s classic manly features often have women staring and giving him the eye.  But he’s mine.  And I plan on reminding him of that once we’re alone.

Rick waves and winks at me and I experience that delightful roller coaster dip in the pit of my stomach like I did when we first started dating.

“Hey, babe,” Rick says a bit out of breath and then kisses me on the cheek.

“It’s about time, man,” Kyle says, clapping him on the shoulder.  “We’re going to do the toast now.”

Vanessa beams a radiant smile and moves off to the front with Kyle.  Rick returns from the bar and I lean back against the exposed brick wall.  This chic Boston hotel used to be the city jail.  Now, it’s the perfect location for Vanessa and Kyle to be bound together.  Rick lifts a cold Sam Adams and downs a few gulps instead of talking to me.  There’s so much left unsaid between the two of us.  We seem to be in a relationship penitentiary ourselves.  I gaze at his handsome features and his clear eyes wishing I could read his mind.

“Griz!” I hear shouted out.  “There you are!”

My roommate, William McEwan pushes his way through the people to get to me.

“William, what’s wrong?”

He waves his hand in front of his face in great frustration.  “Bitch, you took
my
cell phone when you left the apartment this morning.”  Then he laughs.

I reach into my purse and retrieve the Android phone that exactly matches William’s since we got them together in a two-for deal that saved us
beaucoup dinero
.  “Sorry about that, I—”

William’s lips flatten.  “Some ass-hat has been calling all day for you.  Some lawyer with a messed up name who says it’s ‘imperative’ he speak with you.  I thought I was going insane until I really looked at the phone and saw the screensaver picture of you and Rick instead of the one of Kirk’s bare chest.”

I snicker at the thought of William expecting to see his latest boy toy on the screen, but instead was greeted by the snapshot of Rick and me on our Vermont apple picking trip two months ago.

William shoves the cellular device my way and I hand him his.  He huffs off into a corner to listen to his voice mail messages.  I take the opportunity to do the same, wondering what some lawyer could possibly want from me.

I punch in my voice mail code and listen.  “Ms. Perry.  My name is Westin Esterhazy, Esquire.  Attorney for Stella Hardwick.”  I furrow my brows at the phone thinking this guy obviously has a wrong number.  Yet the message continues.  “Stella Hardwick.  Your father’s aunt on his mother’s side.  I regret to inform you that Ms. Hardwick died yesterday.  Since you are the executor of her estate, as well as her heir, it’s imperative that you come to Alabama immediately and take responsibility for business matters that need your attention.  Please call me back at 251-555—”

What?  Who?  Huh?

Estate?  Executor?  Me?  I’m an heiress?

There’s obviously been a
big
misunderstanding.  I’ve never heard of Stella Hardwick in my life!

I start to dial my father’s cell phone number, but Kyle’s laughter over the microphone drowns out my intentions.  As he and Vanessa thank everyone for being here tonight, I try to process this information from that Westerhazy guy’s voice mail.  My hand finds my temple and I close my eyes to the light-headed dizziness as the room closes in around me.  It’s probably the champagne.  I guzzled it way too fast, plus I haven’t eaten anything all day.  Claudia Coldren, a.k.a Boss from Hell, has been riding me like a Kentucky Derby filly for the past week and a half to make sure my graphics and web designs are ready for our new product launch.  If she had her way, I’d be marrying the company and not Rick Churchman who would take me away from my job.