Layers (7 page)

“Here you go.” I hand him back his shirt. He takes it away from me, his eyes reaching intensely into mine. Our fingers brush for an instant, sending small shudders from my hand to my core. I watch him put his shirt on, and when his eyes meet mine again they have a naughty glee in them. I take in a long, audible breath. He smiles and I feel my face warm slightly.

“Thank you for a lovely morning, Hayley J Grace.” His tongue gently caresses my name as he voices it.

“Thank
you
for a lovely morning, Daniel Stark.”

He sends me his crooked smile then lifts his hand toward my face, stroking my cheek with the tips of his fingers. His act of sweet intimacy leaves me entirely unbalanced. With that, he starts walking toward the door.

“See you, Hayley,” he says as he opens the door. “See you, Daniel.” I watch him for a moment.
The sooner the better.

He steps out, closing the door behind him, and then he’s gone. I lean against the door, troubled by the fact that I’m as upset about his leaving as I am.
I shouldn’t, not with him
 …

Chapter 6: Indecent Intentions

Doesn’t take Tasha too long to be by my side, distracting me from my thoughts, her entire posture screaming curiosity.

She raises an eyebrow at me and bluntly asks, “Well?”

I look at my watch.
Crap, it’s already eleven. I should be at work in twenty.
“Give me a ride to work and I’ll fill you in.” I give Tasha an apologetic look, and she scowls.

“Tash, I should really be at work in twenty, or else Mrs. Never Gets Laid will have my butt on the grill.” Tasha twists her mouth playfully.

“Okay, just stop whining.”

As she presses the button to let the top down I skim through the player and leave it at “Paper Airplanes.”

The mellow folky/blues music funnels into the car as Tasha turns my way. “It’s story time.”

I grin at her and start from the so-called interview at Stark Software, filling her in with a thorough minute-by-minute account of our encounters that finally led to a half-naked Daniel Stark in our home.

“Hold on,” Tasha says, raising her manicured finger, and turns to dial. And I can just imagine where this call is directed.

“S’up gorgeous?” A too-loud yelp tears the calm ambiance.

“Super E, you are on speaker and we have the one and only Miss Grace with us.”

“Gorgeous Miss Grace.”

I giggle at Ian’s as-ever bursting energy.

“Listening time,” Tasha declares authoritatively, prompting an immediate silence from us both. “Now, you, Missy, continue the tale.” She turns my way and then goes back to focus on the curving road ahead. And I obey.

“Oh my god, I’ve just Googled him. This is one steamy creature. When do I get the full report of how he is in terms of making your girlie parts dazzle?” Both Tasha and I turn into a noisily squeaking duo.

“So I gather you assume there will be experiments with exchanging liquids?”

“With this guy, bet your tight ass there’ll be! Any chance he’s playing for both teams?” I roll my eyes.

Ian is like the Tasmanian devil when it comes to hot guys: he
must
consume everything that looks even remotely delectable.

“Have no idea. Don’t think so, but I’ll make sure to ask him the first chance I get.”

Tasha snickers and I shake my head with half a smile.

“So, gorgeous ladies, I gotta go. Do him, Hales, that’s an order. Ciao!”

“Love ya,” we chorus and the line drops. Tasha and I trade amused glances and fall into a pleasant, contemplative silence.

About ten minutes into our drive I say, idly, half to Tasha half to myself, “Seriously, I have no idea what he really wants with me.”

Tasha sends me a derisive glance. “I mean, I know what he wants, I’ve been playing this game for far too long … I can sense attraction better than anyone, but it’s just …” I sigh.

“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? Do I really have to remind you how many broken hearts you have under your belt? And I’m referring to just the last couple of years.” She wrinkles her nose, and continues with, “You’re such a sweet, witty, beautiful and intelligent person.”

I beam at her. “Well, my dear, you couldn’t be more objective.”

“How do you feel about all of this?” she asks, her expression turning solemn.

“He’s intriguing and charming in a bad boy kind of way,” I say, pondering, “and absolutely hot. He acts as though it’s more than just plain attraction, but I’m pretty sure he’s the biggest player.”

“Oh, a male version of you.”

“Hey, whose side are you on, anyway?”

“Well, just do him, like Ian suggested, and go from there.” She concludes in an assertive tone, effortlessly dismissing the doubt in subject.

“But you know how I feel about that … been there, done that. You know better than anyone what I’m
not
looking for.”

Who better than Tasha knows about my sordid history? About how, for the last few years, by choice, I didn’t have a “relationship” that lasted longer than one night
,
longer than an orgasm …

She fixes her framed white Jackie O. sunglasses, adjusting them on the bridge of her pointy nose. “Hales, I know that you’ve stopped fucking for nothing. But make an exception with this irresistible, virile, mega-attractive guy, one last time. And by all means, girl, don’t make it more than it is,” she states, putting to words what we both think. She does have a talent for doing that.

“Fucking for nothing,” I snicker. “Classy.” Tasha mirrors my amused stare.

Pulling the car to a stop, she turns to me and says, “Come on, he’s incredibly sexy. Hell, he’s Daniel ‘Hottie’ Stark.” She grins. “My best friend is going to do Daniel Stark.”

I can’t help but laugh at her cheerful declaration.

“We have all these indecent plans for him and I’m not even sure he’ll call again,” I murmur. “If there’s something I cannot do, it’s anticipating this guy.” Given our brief history, I sigh deeply.

Perhaps I should just call him up and say, Hey Daniel, the unanimous verdict has been rendered—I am to do you, let’s fuck?

Chapter 7: The Very Last Time

“Honey, I’m home,” I call out.

“In the shower,” Tasha yells back, a bit too loudly.

Realizing I haven’t eaten today I prepare myself a small dinner of goat cheese, artichoke hearts in olive oil, and some crackers.

“What’s up with your phone? Is it dead?” Tasha asks, approaching me, towel around her head, wearing her silk blue nightgown, her face still pink from the shower.

“What do you mean? Did you try to reach me?”

“Just about a hundred times, nothing serious,” she replies, her eyes dancing with disquiet. Recognizing this look of hers, I know she has something to share with me, and she’s thrilled about it, whatever it is. I pull out my phone from the back pocket of my jeans and find out it was switched off, probably for some time now.

“What is it? What’s with the I’ve-got-something-to-tell-you look, Tash?” I ask her, taking another bite from my cracker. I watch the tiny crumbs as they fall down on the counter and immediately brush them off. She leans against the mosaic pole that secures our kitchen counter.

“I was called for an interview at Stark Software earlier today.”

“Oh,” is the only thing I manage to articulate, all of a sudden feeling somewhat insecure.
Perhaps Daniel is interested in her too … What’s up with me?

“With Mrs. Greenich,” Tasha emphasizes, as if reading my mind. I wince, feeling uncomfortable with my previous, embarrassing thought.
Was I that obvious?

“I’m so happy for you. This is what you wanted.” I radiate content her way, still feeling a tad timid.

“Yes, I just hope I’ll make a good impression,” she responds pensively, her eyes boring into some point in space behind me. “Do you think it has anything to do with you and Daniel?” Her question hangs in the air between us for a lengthy pause.

“I have no idea. I don’t know what he wants or what he thinks. Besides, you’re more than qualified, so I don’t believe it has anything to do with him and me.”
There isn’t really a him and me anyhow.

“You must be right.” She pulls down the towel and lets her dark hair fall in wet clusters on her back.

“I think I’ll have a shower too and go to bed,” I say, picking up some cracker crumbs and putting them in my mouth.

“I’ll alert the media,” she responds, making me snort.

“I’m watching TV, if you want to join.” She snuggles on our white sofa, pulling a deep purple chenille blanket on herself.

“Don’t think so.” I clear up the counter, putting my plate in the dishwasher, and head to the shower.

~~~

Lying in bed, I can’t help but think of Daniel. I fetch my laptop to check what my reliable friend, Google, can tell me about him.

About 33,100 results in under 0.23 seconds. I choose the Forbes link and the information immediately displays:

Daniel Stark

Net Worth $1.9 B as of June 2012.

Wow, baby’s got some dimes in his piggybank … zillions of them
! I knew he had to be wealthy, but that wealthy? Judging by his appearance, you’d never even suspect he could be that rich. His laid-back simplicity, this special way he had about him, is much more attractive than his crazy loot.

At a Glance

Age: 34

Source of Wealth: Software, self-made

Residence: San Francisco, CA

Country of Citizenship: United States

Education: Bachelor of Arts / Science, University of San Francisco

Marital Status: Single

Daniel Stark graced the cover of our 2008 billionaires issue, only to fall off the list in 2010. He returned last year, and his net worth continues to move up, as shares of his cyber security firm Stark Software Technologies have skyrocketed. His charitable endeavors include children’s hospitals and deal with issues ranging from new equipment to hospitalization facilities while maintaining interest in cancer research. Stark devotes much of his spare time to surfing and car racing.

And torturing young women in fictitious interviews.

As I finally put the laptop away, Daniel is all over my mind, his eyes, his wild-boy blasé, those scars that decorate his handsome face. When I fall asleep, the thoughts of him turn into dreams.

~~~

The room is pitch black. I blink, waiting for my eyes to adjust, and as I do I turn to check the time on my phone, remembering it was off. I turn it on, waiting for the clock image to appear. Two a.m.
I need to sleep!
Far from being able to resume sleeping, I pick up my phone and check out my Inbox. There’s an email from the magazine I’ve been waiting to hear back from. I open the mail reluctantly, thinking that if they wrote me an email it’s probably because of another delay rather than an official start day.

Dear Hayley,

I would like to invite you to a follow up meeting in regards to the position of assistant and content specialist you were interviewed for at
YOU
magazine.

Would June 6
^th
at 12:00 suit you? Please let me know ASAP.

Best,

Josh Wilde, Executive Creative Director,
YOU

I read the email again, hyper.
Does this mean that the headcount matter is cleared and that I’ll start soon?
I’m so thrilled I have the urge to wake Tasha, but I let her be. It can wait till the morning, exciting as it is.

I skim through the rest of my emails till I encounter those two letters, “DS”, which make my heart flip on sight. Curious and anxious, I hasten to read it. Not sure what entices me more: the current email or the previous one.
I shouldn’t be this excited
 …

Hey Hayley,

Thanks again for today. How about a movie tomorrow?

DS

Daniel Stark is asking me to the movies
? I hate the fact that I’m elated, just like a besotted teenager.
I shouldn’t be
. I know with every sensible cell of my being that he’s a highway straight to heartbreakville.
Isn’t the plan just to get physical with him, emotions aside?

Hey Daniel,

Depends on the movie …

H

I hug my pillow, willing myself to fall asleep, when I hear the ping of an incoming email. I’m surprised since it’s late—early depending on how I look at it. And there it is in bold letters, an instant reply from DS.

Hey H,

So it’s not about the company, it’s about the movie?

Hurt & Disappointed,

DS

I immediately text a reply.