One Night (2 page)

She flitted a gaze down at it. “No thanks. I changed my mind. Can’t rob people in a wet skirt. It’s just not fashionable.”

He chuckled, and of their own accord his eyes focused on her arse. The wet skirt defined every single curve, leaving little to the imagination. “I didn’t know society rules held out over nefarious robberies.”

“Fashion always wins,” she replied, turning back to him with a smile. “It’s girl code.”

His heart sped up at her soft smile. She really was gorgeous. “Is it also girl code to look so stunning in a wet skirt?”

“No, that’s just me.” Her cheeks went red. “I was here because I went for a walk. I was scoping out the theater and got distracted.”

He stepped closer, his breath held. Reaching out, he swiped a hand across her damp cheek, smearing away the makeup that had escaped with her tears. “You had a little mascara on your cheek.” He hesitated, wondering if he should ask her why she’d cried. He wanted to know,
needed
to know, but he barely knew the woman. “Must’ve been from the splashing of the puddle.”

She moved away from him and swiped her hands under her eyes with shaky hands. “Yeah. Must’ve been.”

“Hey … ” He watched her, not missing the tight lines around her mouth. Something was wrong with her. He knew it. “Are you all right?”

She flushed. “I’m fine. I’ll be going now.”

He clenched his fists. He couldn’t force her to talk to him or to stay if she didn’t want to. “See you around our alley sometime?”

“I doubt it.” She clung to her purse. “I don’t like plays … or musicals, so I’m not usually here.”

Wait. What? She didn’t like
Broadway
? “You’re from New York, correct?”

“Yeah. So?”

“I thought it was written in the laws of New York City that all New Yorkers had to like Broadway, or they would be hanged until death in Times Square for all to see.”

She laughed again. “If so, I’m doomed.”

“Don’t worry.” He leaned closer. So close he could smell the soft scent of her perfume. Something flowery and light—like her laugh. “I won’t turn you in to the authorities.”

“Really?” She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “You mean, it’ll be our little secret?”

“Absolutely.” He got lost in her eyes. There were little specks of amber in the green. He hadn’t seen that from further away. “Our dirty little secret. But only if … ”

She cocked her head. “If what?”

Should he say what was on his mind? Or should he stick to the original plan of a night at home … alone? Her rose-scented perfume filled his senses more completely than the evening’s July heat, and he knew he didn’t want to let her leave just yet. He wanted to make her laugh some more. To chase away the shadows of pain that still lurked in her eyes even now. He might have knocked her down, but now? He wanted to pick her back up.

She looked like she needed that tonight.

He stepped in front of her, this time his frame towering over her petite one. He wasn’t the tallest man in the world, and yet the tip of her head barely reached his shoulders. “ … If you go out with me tonight.”

Her jaw dropped. “What? I don’t think so.”

“You look like you need a distraction tonight.” He brushed her hair behind her ear, watching her closely as she shivered. Yes, she definitely felt something, too. Good. “Let me be your distraction.”

She put her hands on her hips. “And what do you hope to get out of this? Sex?”

“Did I say that?” he asked softly. “It’s the fourth of July.” He interjected a fair amount of drollness to his tone. “As I understand it, this is an important date to Yanks. The
reason
escapes me.”

Her lips twitched and she eyed him. “It’s when we sent your ancestors packing.”

“Ah, yes. That’s right.” He tapped her nose with his finger. “Do you have a
barbie
to attend?”

“A
barbie
?” She chuckled and gave a slight shake of her head. “You mean, like, a barbeque?”

“Yes.” He ran his fingers through his thick hair, feeling awkward and foolish and as out of place as ever. “That’s the tradition, right?”

She lifted a shoulder. “Yeah, usually. I was supposed to go to my sisters, but I’m kind of avoiding people today.”

“Why?”

“I’m in a mood.” She flitted a hand in front of her. “I’m avoiding people for their own good. Being with Debbie Downer on a holiday isn’t fun for anyone. So I’m going to spend the holiday in my apartment. I just wanted to go for a walk, first.”

“You’re going to be all alone?”

She lifted a brow. “Now who’s the stalker?”

He chuckled, though inwardly he cringed. He’d give her that. He had sounded a bit on the creepy side. All he needed was the eerie Darth Vader voice to go with it. “I bet you have lots of stalker or admirers.”

“Wow.” Her lips tilted up into a smile. “That’s a sweet thing to say. I think. But I’m not an actress or even remotely famous. No stalkers in my life.”

Eyeing her mouth, he couldn’t help but wish she were an actress. Namely, Cossette. He wouldn’t mind having to kiss her every night for the next year. Sometimes twice a day. And then, when they went home together, he could kiss her because he wanted to—not because the script called for it. And he could spend every night making those eyes shine and hearing her bubbly laugh.

He cocked a brow. “Shall I audition for the part?”

“That would be the most boring role you’d ever find.” She pulled at her skirt again, clearly uncomfortable. He should let her go, and yet …

“I doubt that. I’ve had my share of tedious jobs.”

She nodded and started scooting away from him again. “Anyway, thanks for the offer, but I’ll pass. It was nice meeting you.”

He took a deep breath. Time to tumble arse over tit into it. “You want to know what I hope to get out of this?”

She stopped walking away from him, her shoulders straight. Slowly, she turned back to him, her brows up. “Sure.”

“I need a distraction, too. Sorely.”

She took a slow breath. “How convenient that we both need to forget, and we’re both here in this alley.”

“Precisely.”

She let go of her skirt and met his eyes. “I don’t even know you. You could be a crazy psycho for all I know.”

“I’m Justin. I told you that earlier. I work here.” He pointed over his shoulder. “And I am the only one here with a British accent, so I’m pretty bloody easy to describe if I do something horrific to you. Don’t forget. The eyes are blue.”

“Oh yeah?” She put her hands on her hips, but ruined the effect by laughing. “And what if you’re a serial killer? I won’t be able to point you out from the dead—though I’d certainly
try
.”

“A serial killer who invites you to dinner before offing you? If I wanted to kill you,” he motioned around the ever-darkening alley, “this would be a better location than a crowded pub, don’t you think?”

Her lips curved upward into a hesitant smile. “You have a point. But still … ”

“Please? I feel awful about knocking you down. But maybe fate threw us together to help us through tonight.” He rubbed the back of his neck, shooting her the most charming smile he could manage. “We’re here to help one another get blasted and forget.”

She tilted her head to the side and put her hands on her hips. “You believe in fate?”

“Absolutely. Don’t you?”

She shook her head, her lips pressed tightly together. “No. I believe in timing and coincidence. Not fate.”

“Well, then,” he smiled at her. She made it almost too easy. “Timing threw us together quite coincidentally. Have dinner with me, please. Come on, you
do
eat, don’t you? Or is that against girl code, too?”

She rolled her eyes, but smiled. “And if it is?”

“Well, then,” he leaned in close, bending until his lips were level with her right ear. He kept his voice low and rumbly. “I’d say the time has come for you to be a rebel.”

She shivered. “What makes you think I’m not one already?”

“Hmm.” He toyed with her hair and backed up a step so he could look into her eyes. They were wide, and her breath came out a little bit fast. If she were a rebel, then he would wear a blooming skirt to work every day for a fortnight. “Gut instinct?”

Something that looked a lot like defiance blazed in her eyes. She grabbed a hold of his shirt and didn’t let go. She didn’t pull him closer or push him away. Just held him still. “Careful how much you go with your gut. It might lead you down the wrong path.”

“I think it’s leading me on the right one tonight.” He eyed her, and cradled her cheek with his hand. “Go out with me, luv?”

She smiled, and still didn’t drop her hold on him. “You’re making it hard to say no. Especially with your accent.”

“Then say ‘yes.’” He rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. She took a shaky breath, and tightened her grip on his shirt. He’d bet his left nut this attraction wasn’t one-sided. She might not know who he really was, but why should he tell her he wasn’t stage crew? He kind of wanted to be a normal guy for once and relished the anonymity for a change. Back home, people recognized him as the rising star everyone wanted to know about.

But here?

He was nobody. And he didn’t want her to look at him like all the other girls did. He wanted her to look at him like he was a
man
. Just a man. “Blimey! You know what? I don’t know even know your name.”

“Blimey?” She smiled, and her eyes sparkled up at him. “I like the way you talk. I could listen to it all night.”

“Great. It’s settled.” He grabbed her hand. “Name?”

She didn’t pull away, and that smile struck again. She could disarm the entire Royal Navy with a simple smile if she set her mind to it. “I’m Alexis, but you can call me Lexi.”

“Pleased to meet you. Now that names are out of the way … care to go to dinner with me, Lexi?”

“I’m not interested in a relationship right now,” she said flatly. “At all.”

He dropped her hand and backed away from her. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down a second. I didn’t say anything about relationships. I only mentioned dinner and getting shitfaced. Don’t take advantage of me just yet.”

“I-I didn’t mean to … I mean I … ” She turned bright red and covered her cheeks with her hands. “Oh God. This is horrible.”

He wagged a finger at her. “And before you go and propose marriage to me—no, I don’t need a green card. I’m well and dandy in that aspect.”

She blinked up at him then burst into laughter. “You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

He held his thumb and pointer finger up, holding them close together “Perhaps a wee bit.” He grinned. “Now, about our non-committal, non-relationship-forming dinner … ?”

She pointed at him, one hand on her hip. “It’s not a date.”

“Of course not.” He offered his arm. “It’s a distraction.”

She eyed his arm as if he offered her a lift into a pit full of snakes instead of a meal. She took a deep breath, slid her hand into his arm, and led him out of the alley. “This is me being spontaneous and accepting a dinner invite from the strange man who knocked me on my ass in an alley on July 4th. Let it be marked in the official court records, in case you kill me tonight.”

“Consider it duly recorded.” He fought back a triumphant grin. “So, I know this nice little Italian place in SoHo—”

She snorted. “In America, we don’t do Italian food on the fourth of July. We do burgers, beer, and fireworks. If you’re going out with a
Yank
on this night of all nights, then you’ll be one, too.”

He shuddered. “Perish the thought.”

Chuckling, she tugged him closer and led him out onto the packed sidewalks. “By the end of the night, I’ll have you singing the national anthem as the fireworks explode over the Statue of Liberty.”

He raised a brow.
Not likely
. After all, he needed to save his voice for tomorrow. If anything, he should back out of dinner and go home. Rest. “We’ll see about that.”

Gary had told him to go out and have fun … and he was nothing if not cooperative.

Chapter Two

Lexi stole a peek at Justin, hoping she hadn’t just agreed to go out with a crazy, ax-wielding madman. She didn’t pick up random men off of the street and go out with them. She was sensible. Smart. Organized.

Not impulsive and daring.

But then again … he was right. She really needed a distraction. And people went on blind dates
all
the time. She at least knew what Justin looked like, if nothing else. Should she snap a picture of him and text it to her sister in case he was a murderer? Pulling her Blackberry out, she switched it onto silent and snapped a picture as best as she could while walking down a crowded NYC street and trying not to be so obvious about it.

She got his shoulder.

Oh well. She’d just be murdered and he would escape without being caught. No biggie. She stole another glance at him and he smiled. Looking away quickly, she ducked her head to hide the blush of her cheeks. He didn’t look like a murderer. If he was, at least he was a
hot
one.

While they hadn’t exactly met under the best of circumstances, he’d made her laugh a few times despite it. Already, he’d proved to be a diversion. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had made her laugh. Made her want to flirt and have fun and be free. This was a hard time of year for her and she’d chosen to spend it alone, mourning with a bottle of wine, sometimes two.

Alone. Missing her fiancé. Her
dead
fiancé. It still hurt to think about him. To miss him. And tonight? She’d been missing him a lot. Right up until she fell in that puddle. After that, she’d been too distracted by Justin to feel sorry for herself. For the first time in the past year, she felt like doing something other than missing him. She felt like being with someone other than herself.

She was freaking
sick
of herself.

A taxi zoomed by and the driver shouted at someone to “move out of the fucking road,” and she snapped out of her thoughts. “So, why are you here in America? Why come all the way out here to work on the stage if you can do it back home?”