The Perfect Life (25 page)

Scratching her black-tipped nails across my chest, she purred into my ear, “So I’ll get to meet Bruce later?”

“That’s a possibility,” I laughed after downing the last of my cocktail. “You want something to drink?”

“Absolutely.”

I twisted slightly to my left to catch Sheila’s attention behind the bar, and when I did, I lifted my empty glass up in the air with one hand and two fingers up with the other. She nodded, indicating she saw my request, so I swung my focus back to my little crime-fighting sidekick, but in the process, my eyes caught on the ethereal vision that was walking through the door at that exact moment.

Amidst all of the commotion and throngs of people, there was no missing the woman who was dressed as Poison Ivy as she made her way into the bar. She was drop-dead gorgeous. Better than the real Poison Ivy. And seemingly, alone.

Long, fiery red curls cascaded wildly over her shoulders and down her back that I wanted to tangle my fingers in. Flawless porcelain-white skin poured out the top and bottom of the miniscule green dress she wore, the fabric decorated with leaves and sequins. Vines of ivy were wrapped around each of her toned arms and legs, as well as around the crown of her head, making her look like the angel of the forest, rather than the make-believe criminal she was supposed to be.

The glittery green mask she wore concealed a good portion of her face, leaving only her eyes to shine through the oval-shaped cutouts and below her nose visible, but there was no hiding the fact she was stunning. I had no doubt that every gaze in the room was locked on her—those who wanted her, and those who wanted to be her—but I didn’t dare tear my own eyes away to confirm.

Four steps. That’s how many steps she took before she stopped and turned then began skimming over faces like she was looking for someone.
Of course, she’s meeting someone here.
Whatever small amount of hope that had built up inside me that I might have a chance to talk to her dissipated . . . until I saw her nervously rub her lips together in the exact way someone else I knew did.

Monroe.

I gasped and clutched my chest as my lungs collapsed beneath my ribs, all of the air sucked straight from them at my sudden realization.
She came. How did she know? Does she want me to recognize her? She left her house in that outfit?

“Is everything okay?” Batgirl’s squeaky voice rang loud in my ears, snapping my attention back to her.

“Huh?”

She looked up at me with a worried expression then cut her eyes down to where my hand was grabbing at my pec. “Your chest. Are you okay?”

Dropping my hand abruptly, my mind swirled with a million different thoughts—none of them having anything to do with the girl standing next to me. I freaked. I didn’t know what to do, what to say. I needed to get rid of her. I needed a minute to collect myself, to figure out what in the hell I was going to do. So I said the first thing that came to my head. “Uh yeah, but I, uh, just remembered I forgot to call my wife tonight. I’m supposed to call her at a certain time each night, or she’ll, uh, get really mad if I don’t.” I slowly inched away from her as I rambled on, thankful she wasn’t holding a drink to throw at me. “So yeah, it was nice talking to you, Batgirl. Hope you find a good Bruce Wayne to take home tonight.”

Then I spun around and made a beeline to the office, not sticking around to hear her response. I sucked at acting under pressure, and that was definitely one of my worst improvisations.

Thankfully, the office was empty when I exploded into it like a bat out of hell—quite literally. I rushed to the small bathroom off of the main space and pulled up just short of the mirror, stilling when I saw the frenzied passion whirling in my eyes behind the mask. My heart pounded and my pulse spiked as exhilaration buzzed through me.

“What is she doing here? Why would she not tell me she was coming? Why did she wear that? What the fuck is going on?” I asked Batman, as if my costumed-reflection knew the answers.

Sighing, I ripped the damn thing off my head and scrubbed my hands over my face. After sticking my head under the sink, dousing my hair and face with cold water, I dried off the best I could with the paper towels then pulled my wet hair up in a bun. Another deep stare into my own eyes in the mirror, and I answered my earlier questions.

“She’s here because of you. She either wanted to surprise you, or she doesn’t want you to know it’s her. She’s wearing it so you can see her wearing it. And I have no damn clue.”

Now, the question was, what was I going to do about it?
Should I just see how it plays out? Confront her? Pretend I don’t know? Do I have the willpower to stop something if things go too far?
The only answer I knew for sure was the last one, and it was a resounding HELL NO.

I wanted that woman from the first moment I laid eyes on her, and that desire had only continued to grow as I’d gotten to know her. She laughed at my obnoxious jokes. She loved the kids at the home like they were her own flesh and blood. She ate bad things with me. She liked to make me listen to terrible pop radio. She was the most gorgeous person I’d ever seen. She liked to tease me, and liked it even more when I teased her back. She was my Rizzo, my Peaches. And she was there in that bar, dressed like Eve from the Garden of Eden . . . for me.

No better than Adam himself, I put my mask back on, turned around, and strode out into that bar, knowing full-well if she tempted me with her fruit, I had no plans to say no.

“have you ever experienced something

so astonishingly beautiful,

you wanted nothing more

than for that moment to be burned

and in your mind be born

fresh once more?

the greatest second you will

ever have on this earth is

the exact moment you fell

in love.”

–Christopher Poindexter

Monroe

“YOU. DESERVE. MORE.
You’re worth it, Monroe,”
I muttered Seth’s words under my breath so that only I could hear them as I swung open the heavy wooden door leading to Riff’s Jazz Bar, a place I had no place being . . . which was exactly why I was there.

Because I
did
deserve more.

And I
was
worth it.

Now, it was time to find out if Oliver thought I was. Because he was to me.

Right or wrong, no matter the consequence, I checked the fears that lingered deep in the shadows of my past along with my knee-length, fur-lined coat at the door and stepped into that hazy, overcrowded room with one goal in mind: to seduce Oliver Saxon.

Over the previous six weeks, my friendship with Oliver only continued to grow. Spending eight to ten hours a day together, we soon learned everything there was to know about each other—well,
almost
everything—and the more I knew, the more I liked. He was one of the goofiest people I’d ever met, always breaking out into song and dance at the strangest times or blurting out random, useless facts to get my attention when the two of us would get lost in our work for a while and not talk. But he was also one of the most genuine, good-hearted people I’d ever crossed paths with, and being in the field of Social Work and charitable organizations, I’d met some pretty incredible, selfless individuals.

I’d tried my hardest to flirt with him any chance I got, but apparently, I sucked at it, because he never again tried to touch or kiss me after that first time in the parking lot. Sure, he’d joke back, never passing on an opportunity to embarrass me, and occasionally, I’d catch him stealing a glance at my breasts or my mouth, which would trigger that buzzing sensation between my legs and the fluttering in my lower belly I was really starting to love.

Days that Effie would show up and pretend to work were not my favorite. With the subtlety of a herd of elephants playing the drums with their trunks, she threw herself at Oliver relentlessly, doing everything but ‘accidentally’ tripping and falling on his lap. Legs spread. Without panties. At first I almost felt bad for her when he’d politely but firmly reject her advances, but I soon recognized it was only a game to her. She wanted him because she couldn’t have him, and Effie Andrews had rarely in her life not gotten something she wanted. It actually made her a great assistant. If I sent her on a mission, she got it done, because she wouldn’t accept no for an answer. “Everyone has a weakness,” she told me once after I asked her how she managed to get me on the state Senator’s calendar. “You just have to pinpoint it early, and play the hell out of it until they can’t refuse you.”

Evidently, she hadn’t pinpointed Oliver’s weakness quite yet.

I was praying it was Poison Ivy.

It didn’t take long for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, but as I shuffled inside the cramped space, I soon realized my first hurdle. There were multiple men dressed up as Batman. I don’t know why I hadn’t bothered to think of that possibility, wrongly assuming after I’d seen the flyer for the party, along with the receipt for his costume rental on his bar, that he’d be easy to spot when I arrived. Clearly, my focus on the end prize of feeling his mouth on mine again—a memory that was forever tattooed on my mind—had clouded my ability to think out my plan thoroughly.
What am I going to do now? Seek out every man dressed up like an oversized flying rat with a gold-and-black oval emblem on his chest?

I thought about going home. A big part of me wanted to hightail it out of there, with my dignity and pride still intact. No one but me and the woman I’d rented the costume from would be none-the-wiser. And the next week at work, I’d just pretend I had no idea about the party he hadn’t invited me to.

But I didn’t.

I stayed.

I stayed for hope that there was more. I stayed, because I finally believed I was worth it. And I stayed, because I wasn’t going to allow that monster from my childhood to control another minute of my life.

I stayed for me.

Feeling comfortable that my own disguise adequately hid my true identity, I rolled my shoulders back and lifted my chin in the air as I strode forward, zigzagging my way through the dressed-up bodies and toward the bar. I’d purposely brought cash for my drinks so I wouldn’t have a credit card with a name on it, and after I pushed my way up to the hand-carved wooden flat-top and ordered a glass of Moscato, I dipped my fingers into the bra cup of the green, foliage-covered corset dress to retrieve the bills I’d so carefully tucked in next to my boob.

“You won’t be needing any of that,” a familiar masculine voice rasped into my ear from behind me, his warm breath on my neck igniting a spark some place much lower.

Startled, my chin popped up and I stared straight ahead at the mirror that lined the back of the bar, fixing my gaze onto vibrant eyes shining through the cutout of the superhero’s legendary black mask. Eyes that belonged to the man I was there to see.

I wished it would’ve taken him a little longer to discover it was me, even though I knew I wouldn’t be able to fool him for too long. But instead of worrying about what was done, I chose to appreciate the time I saved in the hunt for my bat in carbon armor.

“Excuse me? And why should I listen to
you
telling me what I will or won’t be needing? ” I smarted, exposing a tone of sass I didn’t know I had as I addressed his reflection. “Last time I checked, the two of us, Batboy, were sworn enemies.”

A deep, thunderous chuckle rumbled in his chest as he drew closer, his front pressing flush against my back. “I’m all man, sweetheart, and don’t you know what they say about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer?” he taunted, playing along like I hoped he would.

“Yeah? And?” I sneered, doing my best to keep up the feisty façade.

His two arms shot out on either side of me, grabbing hold of the bar and thus caging me in, and I gasped in response. With our eyes still locked and loaded in the mirror, he lowered his head so that his lips skimmed across the shell of my ear. “And you, my little Poison Ivy,” he murmured lowly, “I think I need to keep
you
the closest. I’d hate to think what kind of trouble you’d cause if I let you out of my sight. Tell me, how did one of my enemies find out where I’d be tonight? Did she do some investigating of her own?”