I followed Adam down the narrow antique stairway, through the glass door and into the alley. He held the door for me and, walking beside me, placed a hand at the small of my back. Every muscle there pulled taut in response to his touch.
We shuffled down the narrow alleyway and past the cigar shop, where old men sat outside blowing sickly sweet smoke into the Plaza, and settled in to one of the metal tables on the sidewalk.
“So tell me, whose idea was it to dress the female characters in Dragon Epoch in armored lingerie?” I said, finally broaching a subject I’d avoided until now—my teasing commentary of his game on my blog.
He glanced at me sidelong from his study of the menu. “I came up with the story concept and the game architecture. I didn’t design the women’s clothes.”
“But you had final approval. Why not throw the poor things in something that will cover up their bare midriffs? How would that armor even help them, anyway?”
“I bow to the overwhelming research provided by my marketing people and the game devs who push the issue constantly. Were it up to me, those poor elf maidens would be covered from head to toe.”
I smirked. “And would they be as busty as they are now? Who makes bras in Yondareth, anyway?” I said, referring to the fictional world in which Dragon Epoch was situated.
He suppressed a laugh. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
Suddenly the flash of a memory popped up in my mind. All those figurines that William had been painting—most of them had been women! “Shut up—not your cousin!” My mouth dropped in shock.
“Yep. Blame Liam. I’m totally innocent.”
I peered at him. “I could call you many things but ‘innocent’ is not one of them.”
As we talked, a group of people came out of the nearby Starbucks on the corner and one of them stopped when she saw us at our small table.
“Adam?” she said. We looked up. It was Lindsay, of all people, and when her eyes landed on me, they widened.
“Linds,” he said mildly. “How’s the coffee break?”
Without being invited to do so, she grabbed a chair from another table and plunked down in front of us. I glanced at Adam, who looked uncomfortable—probably because I knew their history now. Oh, I could turn this into a thing of beauty. Make Adam suffer a little bit and stick it to this lady with her sneers at my faded jeans and T-shirt.
I scooted my chair closer to Adam’s until they were flush up against each other. Adam cleared his throat. “Lindsay, you remember my friend Emilia?”
“Everyone calls me Mia, actually,” I said, leaning forward to shake her hand with the fakest damn smile I’d ever faked. “Adam was just talking to me about you!” I said sweetly.
Lindsay turned to Adam with a small smile. “All good, I hope.”
He shifted in his seat and I laid my hand on his upper thigh, curling around the inside—like I’d seen couples who were obvious lovers do so many times. I rubbed him there, affectionately, and leaned into his shoulder.
“Oh,
of course
good! He thinks the
world
of you,” I said, shooting a worshipful smile at Adam. My hand crept northward.
Adam clamped his hand on top of mine under the guise of holding it, prying it off his leg and lacing his fingers around mine. He brought my hand to his lips and kissed it. The shock of it raced down my arm. “You’re so patient with me, sweetie.”
Lindsay’s eyes almost popped out of her head watching Adam’s display—although faked, as I knew. I surmised that Adam, who acted awkward and stiff whenever I leaned up against him in private, was not prone to open affection like this. Given Lindsay’s openmouthed reaction, this was completely out of character for him. Maybe we could really put on a show and have him jumping all over the chairs like Tom Cruise on the Oprah Winfrey show.
Just then, the waiter came to take our order. “I’ll have whatever he’s having,” I cooed dreamily, hoping he didn’t order something vile. He ordered the Floriano combo plate—way too much food for me. But, hey, I never complained about leftovers.
“What are you doing up this way, Adam?” Lindsay asked.
He looked at me and then back at Lindsay as if to say,
Isn’t it obvious?
And suddenly I got the spark of an idea that this meeting wasn’t coincidental. I shot a sidelong glance at Adam, who still had my hand clamped inside his.
After only a few more minutes of empty conversation, Lindsay pushed her chair away from the table. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt and I have to get back. You are coming to the party on Friday, Adam?”
He smiled. “Yes. We’ll definitely be there. Emilia’s my ‘plus one.’ Thanks for the invitation.” I scowled. What was this? A party? A Newport Beach party thrown by Lindsay? Ugh. No, thank you.
Lindsay’s shoulders visibly slumped and she turned away, adjusting her designer sunglasses and walking off toward one of the business buildings in the plaza.
“Well, that was lucky,” he said. I noted that he still hadn’t let go of my hand, but I didn’t say anything.
“No, it wasn’t,” I said. “You planned that.”
Adam reached into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out his sunglasses. “Maybe I did.”
I studied him. “Why?” He hesitated and I added, “If you say you don’t have to tell me your reasons, I’m going to kick you where it counts.”
“So violent,” he grimaced, shooting me a sidelong glance. “She came down to the complex the other day for lunch. Told me she’d filed for divorce from Jerome.”
I grinned at him. “Did she put the moves on you?”
He shot another look at me and then away, clearly embarrassed.
“She did, didn’t she? I knew it. She wants you.”
Adam’s mouth quirked. “Lindsay is a friend. Nothing more. That’s not going to change.”
“Why not just tell her that instead of throwing me in her face?”
His hand tightened around mine. “Is that what you think I was doing? You’re twisting again.”
“Kissing my hand and calling me ‘sweetie’ is not your typical behavior.”
I couldn’t read his face, veiled behind the sunglasses. “Perhaps not.”
Our food arrived then and he released my hand so we could eat. We dug in, silent over our meal for a few minutes. I shot him a few speculative looks, which he pretended not to notice. So I was his decoy. That explained a lot, actually. He was keeping me around to deflect Lindsay—or maybe others—from getting any ideas. With Lindsay beginning a divorce, she’d be vulnerable, on the prowl. Perhaps this was Adam’s way of letting her down easy. Or avoiding her during this period where she might have a wrong idea, because even if
he
pretended not to notice it, it was clear to me that Lindsay wanted Adam.
“Can’t avoid it forever, you know,” I said, picking at my
maduros.
He swallowed a forkful of Spanish rice. “What’s that?”
“Marriage. Someday you aren’t going to have a shield to hide behind.”
He seemed to intuit my meaning immediately. In response, he only shrugged.
I pressed the matter because I’d forgotten how he tended to turn my position of control back on me. Even when it came to conversations. “No desire to find the right person, settle down, make little baby prodigy geniuses?”
He snorted. “Maybe I’ll think about that when I’m forty.” He ate for a moment in silence before he looked at me. “And you? What’s your plan?”
I chewed a mouthful of chicken and bell pepper. It was spicy, flavorful and tender. I shrugged. “I told you, I don’t date. If I don’t date, I’m never going to meet that special guy—especially since I don’t believe he exists in the first place. I’m going to live a life devotedly single and on my own terms. It was good enough for my mom.”
“But your mom had you.”
I thought about that for a moment. “Sure. We got along, mostly. Sometimes more like sisters than like mother and daughter. If I ever have the desire to become a mother, there are options for that, too, that don’t require a man.”
He didn’t say anything in reply and we finished our lunch soon thereafter. He took a phone call that came in, handling some new crisis during the length of our walk back to my place. I walked beside him, silent but for the squeaking of the Styrofoam box that carried my leftovers.
At my doorstep, he ended the call, shoving the phone in his pocket. “Emilia, will you come to the party with me on Friday?”
I raised a brow. “I’ve been wondering when you were going to ask me, seeing as you already volunteered me to be your ‘plus one.’”
“I’m asking you now.”
I took in a deep breath, knowing that I probably shouldn’t. “I don’t think—”
“I’ve been waiting to see you in the red one.” He meant the red dress—the one I hadn’t worn yet. I’d kind of been wondering what it would look like as well.
Maybe I could get away with this by not telling Heath. I knew what he’d say. He’d say the exact same thing that tiny whisper of rationality at the back of my head was saying.
Tell him no. You’re already giving him more than one night
.
I took a deep breath. “Okay.” Geez. Sometimes I just seemed determined to go against everything in my better judgment. And lately, every one of those decisions somehow involved this man.
“I’ll see you Friday,” he said stepping away as if afraid I’d change my mind if he lingered on my doorstep.
I watched him go, headed back into Old Towne to get his car. A knot twisted in my chest. This was dangerous. I was in too deep. And he was in control, just as he’d said. Instead of one more night, as I’d promised him, it was now a cocktail party and a week in the Caribbean. Soon it would be more. And I found it increasingly difficult to tell him no.
My head wanted me to resist, but my heart wouldn’t allow it.
Chapter Eleven
After work the next day, I met Heath at his place. I brought the fixings for a Caesar salad and he’d bought the ground beef and stuff for hamburgers.
Things were awkward at first. I could tell Heath was studiously avoiding the entire subject of Adam and the auction. He was done, it seemed.
But when we were about halfway through our hamburgers, I asked him the question that had been burning on my mind. “How do you do a hand job?”
Heath choked on his burger, his eyes widening. “Damn. At least give me warning to clear my mouth before you pop that shit on me.”
I giggled. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I was reading this
Cosmo
article and it confused me because—”
“Stop right there. If you get your sex education from
Cosmo
then you are in for a world of hurt—or he is. Those articles are insane.”
“Okay. So would you be embarrassed if I asked you to explain to me how it works?”
He laughed. “Embarrassed? Doll, I’m gay. Penises are like my favorite subject—shit, that’d probably be the case if I was straight, too, with boobies a close second.”
Over dessert—I’d picked up fresh strawberries at a local stand and served them over cheap angel food cake for strawberry shortcake—he used a banana to demonstrate the art of pleasuring a man with your hand. I might have had radiation burns on my face from all the blushing after that, but I did follow his advice and dump those back magazine issues into the recycling bin when I got home.
***
Lindsay’s cocktail party was an absolute dud. When she saw us arrive together, she widened her eyes in exaggerated surprise—or mock horror, I couldn’t tell which. She then pretended to be called away on some very important errand. I think she had planned on being Adam’s “plus one.” For the rest of the night, she pretended I didn’t exist. The other guests might have done the same but for the fact that Adam stuck to my side like Velcro the entire time.
I wore the red dress. It was modest at the top with a sweetheart neckline, short-sleeved but formfitting and rather short to showcase my legs, which were, in all, not bad legs. And I’d taken extra special care shaving so I wouldn’t have any cuts or scrapes to hide. I wore the glittery black shoes I’d worn in Amsterdam with the black dress. I didn’t even try with my jewelry. Anything I wore would look fake compared to all the shiny
real
jewels I was bound to see at the party. I chose the only real gems I owned—cultured pearl earrings. And that’s it—no ring, necklace or bracelet.
We kept up our affectionate routine. Adam held my hand the entire time and was very attentive. He stood close and when he spoke for me alone, he whispered in my ear, hooking an arm around my waist. I could tell we were the talk of the party because we got a lot of speculative looks. Adam was not seen in public acting affectionate with women, it seemed. Was this act solely to discourage Lindsay and her designs or to set others on alert as well—an elaborate plan to keep people at a distance? If anyone was capable of elaborate plans, it was Adam.
Afterward, he took me back to his place, which was only a few miles from where Lindsay lived in Laguna Beach. I wondered what he had in mind for the rest of the evening. Another trip out on the yacht?
To my utter surprise, his plan was to sit in his movie viewing room, watch
The Lord of the Rings
and eat popcorn. I loved popcorn and Tolkien, so I was perfectly happy with that. However, at one point he disappeared and came back wearing pajama pants and a T-shirt.
I muttered something about it not being fair that I had to stay in my dress and he vanished again, returning with a T-shirt. I went into the bathroom and put it on. As it was one of his, it went down past my panties and left my legs bare. When I came back into the room, his eyes followed me to where I sat in my recliner just next to him. We had our own little theater to ourselves with a high-definition widescreen and top notch sound system—like I said, hardware got me giddy. And we could attend this nice little private theater in our pajamas.
When the first movie was over, he was about to key in the command for the second. By then it was after ten and I mentioned that I should probably be getting home. “Why don’t you stay? I have half a dozen guest rooms you can choose from. And two more movies.” So here it was, his next request for more.
I hesitated. “Wouldn’t that count as one more night?” I said.