The Collision on Hardwood Drive (6 page)

My fingers slipped e
asily in and out. The hot bathwater lapped at my breasts, the steam rising from the surface creating an erotic sauna around me. My breath came in short gasps as I moved my palm in firm circles over my clit. I rubbed harder, letting the warm pulsations grow stronger and deeper. I came, harder than I had in a long time, a moan escaping my lips as I imagined Rob coming, too, and filling me as he fucked me fiercely. Satisfied and exhausted, I relaxed—wishing I had stayed the night.

4

At the end of the next day’s rehearsals, my director approached me with a request to speak with me privately. “Great work,” he said, calming my nerves before I could start to worry myself silly over it being the
you’re fired
talk. I relaxed when he smiled—something this man almost never did. “It’s the best I’ve seen from you in quite some time.”

I smiled back at him and accepted the compliment, feeling more uninhibited and energized than I had in quite a while. Could it have been the massage? People always say that good food and a good rubdown
are essential for any athlete—and a handsome masseur to top it all off. No wonder I was doing well these days.

I had gathered my things
, and I was getting ready to head home when Joe flagged me down and offered to walk me to my car. I had known Joe, a set designer for the company, for about a year now, and he always made a point to say hello and ask how I was. He was soft-spoken and shy, not at all like Michael—or, well,
Rob
—but I still enjoyed talking to him. “Thanks, Joe. I haven’t seen you in a while, have I?”

“You haven’t,” he confirmed. “I’ve been in Europe, visiting my brother. How are you? Paul looked pretty happy with you just then. It’s not often we see him smiling.”

Of course, it was just like Joe to gloss over a story like visiting Europe—something that would interest just about anyone—in favor of asking about my two-minute conversation with Paul. It was gentlemanly, I suppose, for him to focus on me. I offered him the same smile I offered Paul in his office.

“It
is
pretty rare, isn’t it?” I laughed, telling him about Paul’s compliment.

“That’s so amazing! You’re so awesome, Stephanie,” he said, gushing over me
as he always did, even though I tried to play the compliment down—it was nice, but it wasn’t exactly earth-shattering.

“Well, it’s definitely better than a kick in the pants,” I said, “but not as good as a European vacation! How
was it? Did you meet any cute foreign girls?”

“Oh, you know those French girls,” he said with a nervous laugh and shrug. “I wasn’t good enough for them by a long shot.”

I winced. Joe always put himself down and seemed to have some self-esteem issues. “Don’t be so self-deprecating, Joe. You have a lot to offer,” I said.

“You think so?” he asked, brightening. “Thanks, but hey—what else is new with you?”

I waved, dismissing the subject. “Not much. Just the usual. Come on, Joe; don’t try to change the subject. Tell me something juicy about Europe.”

He thou
ght about it for a moment. “Italy’s got really,
really
good coffee,” he said, finally.

I laughed. “That’s it? You had the whole continent of Europe laid out in front of you
, and the only thing you thought was interesting was the
coffee
?”

“Do you like coffee?” he asked, showing off those skills of evasion he had mastered so well.

“Of course I do, Joe,” I said, though I couldn’t help rolling my eyes and feeling a bit exasperated.

“Good,” he said.

I waited a beat for him to say something else, but whatever else he wanted to say seemed to have lodged in his throat. I’d reached my car by then, so we said our goodbyes. I sighed as I started my engine.
Poor guy
.

I dropped my dance bag off on the floor of my apartment as soon as I got inside. I was totally drained from the day’s rehearsals
, and I looked forward to having a relaxing evening alone. Famished, I set my oven to preheat and rifled through my refrigerator to see what I had to cook. As I finished chopping some vegetables, my phone lit up with a chime that let me know I had voice message.

I hadn’t even heard it ring over the sound of my cooking. Grabbing a bottle of wine from my counter, I played the message.

“Stephanie, it’s Rob. God, I can’t stop thinking about you. The smell of you, the feel of your skin, the way you looked at me when I…
fuck
.” He paused as though he were trying to get his voice under control.

“I want to see you, Steph. Soon.
Tonight
. I want to taste you again.” He paused again, but I could tell it wasn’t hesitation this time—he just wanted to give me time to remember how he had pressed himself up against me, and
God,
did I remember.
“Call me.”

My voicemail beeped letting me know the message had ended. I replayed it, relishing in the thought of
his being turned on by the memory of me. The thought of how
much
he wanted me thrilled me so much that I felt a familiar tingling creep into the space between my legs.

His smooth, seductive voice echoed in my head. Just hearing him speak drove me crazy. I could just hear myself asking him to come over, could imagine myself undressing him as soon as the front door slid shut.
Caution,
caution
, I reminded myself. I could be burned again so easily here.

I had no idea what I wanted to say, but I knew I
had
to call him. I hadn’t felt like this about a man in a long time. Despite my reservations, I knew that, sooner or later, we would have to finish what we started last night. I also knew I wanted to keep my heart intact.

Yet—no risk, no reward. Right, Steph?
I drew in a deep breath and dialed Rob’s number. It rang. Immediately, I hung up.

I took in another deep breath. I shouldn’t call him back right away. I didn’t want to
seem desperate, after all. I decided I would enjoy a glass of wine first.
Then,
I would call him back.

I tossed the vegetables I had sliced into a roasting pan with some salmon, sliding the whole dish into the oven to bake. I settled into an oversized armchair with a generous serving of Syrah while it cooked. This was nothing
compared with the dinner I’d had the night before, of course, but it was just what I needed—some normalcy.

I leaned back into my soft chair. Some time to think about this before seeing
Rob again would do me well. I picked up the most recent copy of
US Weekly
to catch up on my celebrity gossip—anything to distract me from thinking about Rob’s body for even a minute longer. The magazine was filled with the standard pictures and articles—Taylor Swift’s new boyfriend, Jessica Alba’s dieting tips, Rob Huntley with several scantily clad women...

Wait—
what the hell
? There it was in print and color—a small corner article about the ruggedly handsome CEO, Rob Huntley, and his torrid love affairs—
fuck
.

Even though it felt
as if my eyes were being burned right out of my skull, I kept reading.

New York’s favorite bachelor continues to indulge in his summer of love. Sexy billionaire
Rob Huntley, CEO and president of General Industries, Inc., puts his yacht to good use off the coast of Anguilla this fall. Sources say Huntley was seen with his on-again, off-again girlfriend, supermodel Lydia Cruz (left insert), at the beginning of September. He ended his trip in the arms of socialite Caitlin McFayden (middle insert). Upon arriving in New York, Huntley was seen dining cozily with an unknown new friend (right insert). The lucky girl, yet to be named, was treated to a perfect night at the opening of Ciano, Shea Gallatne’s new eatery in Manhattan’s Flatiron District.

My jaw dropped as I studied the small pictures at the bottom of the article—
Rob with a voluptuous redhead in a tiny bikini on a sandy white beach, Rob with a blonde on a luxury boat with wind whipping through their hair, and Rob smiling sexily into the camera with his arm resting casually on the hip of a
different
blonde at that restaurant opening. From what I could tell, it didn’t look as if he was having any trouble
connecting
to any of these women.

Tossing the magazine across the room, I look a long swig of my wine. Well, I guess I couldn’t say this was entirely surprising, but—it still stung. Part of me had begun to believe that maybe he
was
different, that maybe he
was
interested in me.

But how could I deny what was right there in front of me? How could I have been so naïve to think I would be different?

Another notch in the belt, or the headboard—whatever that saying was. Well, the fantasy was fun while it lasted. I silently thanked God that I had managed to keep my pants on and my heart intact.

Suddenly, I heard my phone ring
, and I grabbed it before I could stop myself. I answered, not thinking twice.

“Stephanie,”
Rob said. His voice was warm, and he seemed genuinely happy that I’d picked up. “I missed your call. I’m sorry.”

His voice made me feel hot all over
once more. I wanted another bath—this time, with him in it.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

I tried to keep calm or at least to sound as if I was keeping calm. “Not much. Just cooking dinner.”

“I want to see you,” he said so deeply and seriously that I could hear exactly what he wanted to do to me. “I could come over.”

“I don’t…” I swallowed thickly, fighting to stay committed to my decision. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” My voice wavered, but just barely.

“Come on, Steph. I’ll help you cook.” His voice grew deeper with each passing word. “You know I can help get things hot in the kitchen.”

“It’s hot enough in here already! I’m sweating!” I said, blurting it out before I could really think about the words coming out of my mouth. It was true, anyway—I wiped sweat away from my brow with my forearm. The temperature was high because of the oven, but Rob’s sexy voice certainly fed the flames.

“What’s all this now, hm
m?” he asked, completely nonplussed.

I took a deep breath and steadied myself as much as I could. I got up and went into the kitchen, sticking my head in the freezer while I stuck to my guns. “Listen,
Rob. I don’t think you and I… how do I say this? I don’t think we want the same things.” I placed a bag of frozen peas on my flushed cheek for good measure.

“What do you think I want?” he asked.

I thought back on the photographs I’d just seen and sighed. “Look, I’m just not ready for anything right now. Serious or otherwise.” I paused and switched the peas to my other cheek. “I really did have a good time with you,” I said, “but it’s just not a good time for me to be dating.”

R
ob was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, this tone was firm. “Tell me you don’t feel anything for me.”

“You don’t feel anything for me,” I said, rolling my eyes when I heard him stifle a
chuckle.

“Oh, but I
do
,” he said. “You won’t admit how you feel.”

I chucked the peas back
in the freezer and slammed the door shut. The more I tried to deny it, the more I wanted to feel his body against mine and the heat of his lips pressed against my skin—just once more. I said nothing, though, willing the image of him out of my poor, overheated brain.

“Stephanie—”

“I have to go,” I said, interrupting him before he could change my mind. “I’m sorry. Goodbye, Rob.”

I hung up, feeling dejected instead of victorious as I hoped I might. I tried to reassure myself, telling myself that this was the right thing to do. It was easier to remember why I had to stop this before it went any further when I saw the magazine sitting in the middle of my living room floor.

The phone rang again, and I jumped. I smiled after a moment. Well, I had to hand it to him—he was persistent, at least. I picked up after a few rings. “You just don’t take no for an answer, do you?”

“Babe, hey.”

I cringed.
Fuck
—Michael.

“You’re right, I don’t,” he said, playing along with my false start.
It was just like him not to bother even thinking about what I might have meant.

“Oh,” I said, my voice going cold. “It’s you. What do you want?”

“Listen, Steph—don’t hang up.” He practically pled with me, which could only meant he recognized my frigid bitch tone for what it was. “I want to talk. I want to explain.”

His voice brought back memories—
bad
memories. I thought back to the day I’d found him with another woman. I had been devastated. To this day, I couldn’t remember what happened, but I knew I left a broken lamp in my wake.