Chapter Six
I whimper, covering my head with the pillow as my alarm clock continues to blare at me. Fuck. Off. It ’ s too freaking early. I groan, pulling off the pillow, and whack the snooze button. Just a little longer… ah, damn it . It ’ s Sunday.
Every Sunday I bitch and moan about having to get out of bed, but I love to run. There ’ s usually less traffic on the streets, minimal people on the footpaths fighting for space, and it ’ s just better early on a Sunday. It refuels me and clears my head. The head that is now cluttering with the week's worth of crap. I roll back over and bury my face in the pillow, trying to stave it off for a while longer. Five more minutes…
Jeremy.
My eyes snap open. Shit . It ’ s Sunday, and coffee date —ugh—day . The last time I saw Jeremy pushes to the forefront of my mind, and all the memories come flooding back. Waiting for him and those sexy jeans. The car trip with his delectable scent, the beyond amazing gallery, his hand in mine…those sapphire pools…that mouth… oy . Those tempting lips and their sexy curve should be illegal. The image of them in my head morphs into the blinding smile he wore the entire ride back to town.
I ’ ve never seen anyone so excited. Watching him drive the Aston was something else. His body radiated with glee as he chattered nonstop about the car ’ s mechanics. It was like watching a child on Christmas morning, ripping open all their presents, the utter joy and bewilderment that only Santa Claus brings. It made me want to keep the car just so I could see his face light up like a firecracker again and again.
He reluctantly pulled up around the corner from his office building and turned off the engine. His long sigh filled the silence as he played with the keys in his hand. Once again, I felt out of place, out of my element.
“ The gallery was amazing,” I offer weakly.
He turns to look at me with a small, lopsided grin. “ I had a feeling you ’ d like it. And I kept my word — you didn ’ t break the bank.”
I chuckle halfheartedly. “ I ’ ll have to take Luke up on that tour, then, and take some of that magic home with me.”
“ I ’ m sure he ’ d love that,” Jeremy mumbles before opening his car door.
I frown as the door slams behind him before the realization of what I ’ d inadvertently hinted at dawns on me, and I hastily exit the car. “ Like you ’ ll let me go alone. You know I can ’ t be trusted.” What am I doing?
One corner of his mouth flickers with a hesitant smile as I round the car, coming to stand in front of him. “ With Luke or your credit card?”
I smirk at that. “ The latter, of course.”
“ And the former?” he asks, his voice low.
All playfulness is gone, and my mouth feels dry and unresponsive as he continues to stare through me. I manage to find my voice, but not my good sense, with the need to break the tension building. “ And break him? Not my style.” He ’ s too slight for my liking. Jeremy , on the other hand…
“ And me?”
My gaze drifts lazily down to sweep across his broad shoulders and down his firm chest. I still remember how it felt pressed up against mine. It was hard, unyielding, and rippled in all the right places. I ’ ve caught myself more than once since meeting him , wondering what he ’ s hiding underneath his well-fitted clothing.
Jeremy steps forward, the movement breaking my train of thought and forcing my gaze to his. A hint of a smirk plays at one corner of his enticing mouth.
“ Are you done objectifying my body, or do you need another minute?”
“ As much as I can with your clothes on,” I mumble, more to myself than to him. “ And as if you weren ’ t molesting mine with your eyes at the charity thing last Thursday.”
He chuckles softly. “ You noticed that, huh?”
“ It was hard to miss.” It was all I could notice. “ And as for you? You don ’ t look breakable.” Physically, at least. “ But that ’ s yet to be determined.”
“ Is that so? Well, I guess there ’ s only one thing to do about that.”
“ Get you naked and take you for a test drive?” I ask in all seriousness.
“ There ’ s that…” he says lazily, his tone one of calm indifference as he steps closer still. I, on the other hand, am anything but. I can feel my pulse everywhere.”But I have the distinct impression you ’ re the look-with-your-hands type.”
Hands … tongue … “ I like to be thorough.”
“ No inch left un-perused?”
I swallow. Hard. And nod.
He closes the little distance between us, and my heart stutters. His cheek a hairsbreadth from mine, he whispers in my ear, “ No dice. ”
Mouth. Agape.
God, the ass. I fling my legs over the side of my bed and stand with a thud. His laughter still rings in my head as I slam the alarm off and storm into my closet.
“ It ’ s like waving chocolate cake in front of a diabetic,” he teases.
I push feebly at his chest. “ Keys, jackass. ”
Still chuckling, he says, “ Go out with me.”
“ No. ”
“ I ’ m not giving your keys back until you say yes.”
“ Yes,” I say flatly, thrusting my hand out, palm up.
His eyes widen, and his smirk turns into a blinding grin as he lifts the keys to my hand. “ Really? That was easier than I thought.”
I laugh out loud to myself as I throw on a sports bra, tank, and bike shorts. I guess he was just as gullible as I was.
“ No, not really.” His face falls for a fraction of a second before he frowns, his fingers curling around the keys before I can take them. “ Damn it, Jeremy, give me the keys.”
“ That was mean.”
I shrug, fighting a sardonic grin. “ Tit for tat, baby.” My gaze drops to his covered chest again. “ Hmm, do you have any tattoos? I wouldn ’ t be opposed to trading skin for skin.”
“ Wouldn ’ t you like to know?”
I roll my eyes again, hopping from foot to foot as I stumble with the uncoordinated grace of a gorilla, putting on my socks and running shoes before pulling a thin hoodie from a drawer. I grab my cell, armband, and headphones on the way out, slamming the front door locked behind me.
“ I ’ d much rather find out for myself, but we ’ ve already established that ’ s off the table.”
“ Is it?”
“ Jeremy…”
“ Coffee, and I ’ ll tell you.”
I wrinkle my nose, frustrated, and against my better judgment, intrigued. “ Fine. Sunday, ten a.m., at the Equal Exchange Caf é on Causeway, North End.”
He nods briefly before giving me a pointed look . The keys dangling precariously off one finger.
“ I ’ m a woman of my word,” I drawl.
“ Good.”
Jeremy takes my hand, putting the keys securely in it, and wraps his other around my waist, tugging me out of the way of the driver ’ s door. He opens it as I watch, confused by the gesture. His face is so close to my own I could stick my tongue out and lick him. The thought makes me grin.
Jeremy chooses that moment to look at me, his gaze dropping to my lips, and his hand tightens on my hip. Before I can blink, he shifts me with ease, our bodies brushing as I ’ m wedged between him and the open door, a silent gasp escaping me at the unexpected movement and contact.
My heart races, practically beats against his chest, we ’ re so close. Our noses brush as he whispers against my lips, “ It ’ s a date.”
Just as quickly, he releases his hold on me and walks off, leaving me taken aback and in a stunned stupor.
My fingers trace an invisible line across my mouth, still feeling the whispered warmth and electricity he left behind. I shake my head, stuff my earbuds in, and turn up the volume. I run, and I ’ ll keep on running until the sun replaces the heat on my face and the wind deadens the ache on my lips.
The piercing ring of my cell startles me, and I stumble to a stop, yanking out one of the ear buds to dull the sound. I brace myself on my knees, my breath coming in quick, sharp bursts as I struggle to catch it. I take a few deep, slow inhales and answer before my cell goes to voicemail, still sounding out of breath.
“ Yeah?”
“ Mooorning, ” Laura singsongs from the other end.
I just grunt in return.
“ You ’ re chipper this morning. I like it.”
“ Really? You know you ’ re interrupting my run. You ’ re a bad PA and an even worse best friend.”
“ Whatever. Wait, you ’ re still running? Did you sleep in?”
“ What do you mean?” I pull my cell out and check the time. Ah, fucksticks.
“ It ’ s twenty-five to nine.”
I ’ ve totally lost track of the time, and I ’ m going to be late. “ Make it quick, Law,” I huff. “ I need to jog home before my muscles cool down.”
“ Hmm. You might want to jog while I fill you in. Your schedule ’ s changed.”
“ Why? Who canceled?”
“ No one, and therein lies the problem. Antony needs you in New York for the weekend, and seeing as you ’ re already going to be there...”
I groan. “ Not going to happen. I ’ m not rearranging my clients for him. What happened to…what ’ s-her-face? Erica? Jennifer? Or was it Monica?”
“ Who cares?”
I laugh and begin jogging at a steady pace. “ You ’ re not calling for my approval, are you?”
“ Nope. ”
I sigh. “ Okay. Tell me.”
Laura fills me in on the shuffles, all because Antony needs my ass in New York. Seriously? He has others he can call. Though I ’ m not opposed to spending more time in New York—any excuse—I never rearrange my clients. He must have thrown down some serious money for Laura to consider it.
“ Like I was saying, you were supposed to be seeing Lewis all day Sunday, but he was more than happy to have you longer, which works out perfectly.”
I skid to a stop. “ You called Lewis?”
“ Well, yeah. I was checking in with all your clients to make sure your previously booked arrangements still stood. Like I normally do for your regulars.”
“ Okay…” I ’ m still confused.
Laura sighs, exasperated. “ I subtly mentioned you ’ d be in New York sooner, and he was very eager at the prospect of having you longer. So I booked him in before Antony for two nights instead. This way he gets more time with you.” I can hear the smile in her voice.
“ Lewis and Antony, back-to-back?” I want to laugh. That ’ s a lot of time on my back. And my knees, for that matter.
“ Yeah, you ’ ll hate it.” I can almost hear the eye roll. “ The rest of the week is practically arm candy. If you ’ re not up for the challenge…”
I scoff. “ We done?”
“ Yup. I ’ ll email you the new itinerary.”
“ Wait, what about Max?”
“ Oh, I forgot. There was a cancelation. Him, for Thursday night. Which is how everything else fell into place.”
“ Did he reschedule?” Is he having second thoughts?
“ Yeah, for the following week.”
“ Okay. I ’ ve got to go.”
“ Later.”
At six minutes past ten, I step into the caf é . It doesn ’ t take long to spot Jeremy in the far corner, leaning back, looking like he doesn ’ t have a care in the world reading the Boston Herald. As I get closer, I notice how his index finger taps nonstop on the paper, and his eyes keep flicking to his wristwatch. The cool, calm, and collected look he has going on is a fac ade.
He pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, worrying it through his teeth before releasing it. The gesture has an adverse effect on my body, but I can ’ t help wondering if he thinks I stood him up. I make quick work of the distance between us , hoping to rectify the situation post-haste.
“ You read that crap? You know it ’ s full of propaganda, right?” One corner of my mouth flicks up as his fingers tighten around the paper before he slowly lowers the top of it. His beautiful blue eyes are extra twinkly this morning.
“ One woman ’ s propaganda is another man ’ s…” He seems to search for the right word as he folds the paper away. “ Time killer?”
I wrinkle my nose. “ Yeah, I ’ m sorry I ’ m late. I slept in and ran a little longer than planned.”
“ You run?” His eyes sparkle further.
“ Yeah. It ’ s my Sunday thing. I run along the harbor and then gorge myself on bacon after.”
“ I like it.”
“ Which bit?”
“ All of it.”
I shake my head with a smile. “ Well, I ’ ve already had the run.” Though I am still a little pumped. “ You wanna get that to go?” I nod toward the half-empty latte.
“ I can ’ t drink coffee and run.” He chuckles, standing up.
“ We ’ re not running.”
“ Oh. What else did you have in mind? It would have been fun and un-date-like. You can ’ t argue with that.”
He has a point. I glance down at my casual white pants and the flouncy blue blouse I threw on before rushing out the door. “ I ’ m not exactly dressed for running. Neither are you, for that matter.”
I take another second to appreciate the fine specimen in front of me. The light gray sweater and dark blue chinos he ’ s wearing make it look as if he ’ s stepped out of an Abercrombie and Fitch catalog. It ’ s a cruel, tempting torture.
“ True. Next time, perhaps.”
“ Come on. ” I nod at the exit, completely dismissing his presumption, and start walking out.
“So, what ’ s the plan then? Seeing as you ran, now what?”
“We walk.”
He looks down at my shoes, his mouth twitching as he takes in the height of my Jimmys. “ In those?”
“ I can run in these babies.”
“ Good to know, but unnecessary. Unless you changed your mind? I ’ m sure I have a pair of my sister ’ s running shoes she left behind one time or another.”
“ Your sister ’ s? ”
“ Yeah. What size are you? Like a seven?”
“ Ah, yeah. Good guess…wait. Jeremy, do you have a foot fetish I should know about?”
He laughs. “ No. Well, maybe. I don ’ t know.”
“ How do you not know if you have a foot fetish?”
“ I, uh, I guess I ’ ve never thought about feet. Not sexually, at least.”
“ Then I think it ’ s safe to say you don ’ t have a foot fetish. Not that there ’ s anything wrong with having one. Anyway, I ’ m starving, so….”
He smiles, turning to enter the caf é we just exited when I tug on his arm, pulling him up short. Jesus, that ’ s firm. “ No, no. Not in there.”
“ But you picked here to meet.”
“ That ’ s when we were just going for coffee. I ’ ve upgraded you to bacon—you ’ re welcome—but it ’ s better elsewhere. This way,” I singsong and walk off, Jeremy chuckling before he catches up.
“ So, what about you?” he asks, keeping pace.
“ That ’ s a loaded question,” I muse. “ What about me?”
“ Are you, uh, into feet?”
I snort. “ No, I ’ m Switzerland.”
“ Switzerland? Is that a…” Jeremy buries his hands in his pockets and shoots a sideways glance at me, “ thing?”
I come to an abrupt halt. “ What?”
Jeremy stops and twists to look at me, that pink tinge back in his cheeks.
“ Wait. You think Switzerland is a fetish?” Oh, god!
I laugh like I haven ’ t laughed in years. My sides split with the force. I clutch my stomach and fight to get it under control because it ’ s really not that funny, but as Jeremy stares on, a frown puckering his forehead, his arms crossing to wait me out, it just makes me laugh harder.
“ Switzerland, Jeremy. It ’ s not a”—another wave of laughter overtakes me—”I ’ m neutral. Like Switzerland. It ’ s not a fetish.”
I purse my lips tightly, trying and failing to swallow my mirth, my eyes beginning to blur. Jeremy just shakes his head at me and continues walking.
“ Okay, I ’ m sorry,” I splutter some more as I catch up. “ I ’ m good.” He raises a brow, and I chuckle again. “ Your education at BU was lacking.”
“ Indeed, it was. Yours wasn ’ t? ”
“ Not at all. Very in-depth. I was an honor student, top of my class and all that.”
“ I bet you were,” he says with a curve of his mouth. “ But what about high school?”
I raise a brow. “ Are you asking if I was a good girl, Jer? Because I ’ m pretty sure you know the answer to that.”
“ Yeah, I think I do,” he says with a soft chuckle. “ Did you just call me Jer?”
I shrug.
“ Seems only fair.”
“ Yes, it does. I can ’ t imagine you in high school, though. You don ’ t seem like the jock or the geek type.”
“ You ’ d be correct.”
Hmm. I think back to the little Jeremy ’ s told me, and one thing grabs my attention. “ You met Luke in high school, right?”
“ Uh, yeah?”
“ You seem like an odd pairing, is all. He ’ s all arty-farty and you seem more mainstream. Wait, were you the emo kid? No, no. The drama kid?”
“ Yeah, I guess we are,” he muses, “ and I was neither. You think I ’ m mainstream?”
I shrug. “ So, how did you two become friends? The loners at the lunch table? Because I can ’ t picture that either.” Jeremy has this…magnetism I can ’ t deny.
“ Nothing like that. It ’ s kind of a long story.”
“ That ’ s all I get?”
He shrugs.
“ We have two blocks. Talk fast.”
He chuckles halfheartedly. “ He slept with my girlfriend. We ’ ve been friends ever since. So maybe it ’ s not that long a story.”
My eyes go wide, and I stumble a step. “ Say what? How does that even work? And what a ho of a girlfriend.”
He laughs. “ Yeah, it turns out she was.”
“ Okay, I ’ m going to need the long-winded version.” It possibly explains a little about his reaction at the gallery.
He sighs. “ We were fifteen, crazy in love and all that.” He rolls his eyes. “ We were also doing the whole wait-for-prom thing, which was in six weeks. But apparently, she couldn ’ t wait.”
“ She lost her virginity to Luke? After waiting for you? What a bitch.” What a moron.
“ Not exactly. There was a house party. Someone ’ s parents were out of town, and it turned into this big keg thing. I couldn ’ t go, was on, uh…babysitting duties, but truthfully, I didn ’ t want to. It wasn ’ t really my scene, but Marti did that whole girl-pout thing, really wanting to go instead of being stuck inside with me. I would never say no to her, so she went alone.”
My eyes narrow, knowing where this is going.
“ She got wasted . One thing led to another.”
“ Yeah, for hoes,” I mutter.
He chuckles. “ All weekend, she didn ’ t say a word.”
“ Of course she didn ’ t.”
He grins at me.
“ What?”
“ Nothing.”
“ Keep talking.”
“ Come Monday at school, we walked past Luke, and she ignored him. Walked right past him like he didn ’ t exist. I wouldn ’ t have noticed anything was amiss if it weren ’ t for the look on Luke ’ s face. He went green when he saw us.”
“ He didn ’ t know you were dating?”
“ No, he kept to himself mostly, I think. We went to a pretty big school.”
“ Okay, the suspense is killing me. Also, I ’ m waiting for the smack-down on the ho.”
He snorts at me and bumps my shoulder. “ I wouldn ’ t want to get on your bad side.”
“ God, no. If I ’ d gone to the same school as you, I would have pummeled her ass.”
“ And then stolen her boyfriend?”
“ Definitely. I would have paraded you around just to rub it in her whorey face. You would have forgotten all about her in a week.” I smile. For a split second, I wish I could have been there to ease the burn. No doubt some other girl was all over that.
“ A day.”
“ Huh? ”
“ It wouldn ’ t have even taken that long. Hell, if you went to my school…I wouldn ’ t have seen anyone else.”
“ I…” I ’ m at a loss and struck stupid. “ I did kind of stand out at school. I was the rebel.”
He laughs at that. “ I bet.”
“ Okay, seriously, what happened?”
“ Something made me ask her if Luke had gone to the party. He still looked hung over. I think I said something along those lines, downplaying my unease. She went all weird, and then said she couldn ’ t remember, had gotten too drunk, and then laughed it off.”
“ Ah, the fake I ’ m-not-lying laugh.”
“ Exactly. Once again, I knew something was up. The following day, Luke found me without her. It took him forever to spit it out. He apologized till he was red in the face while I stood there like a mute, not sure what to say.”
“ But why did he tell you? He could have let it go because obviously hoface wasn ’ t going to say anything.” I pull on his arm and nod to the entrance for Theo ’ s, surprised there isn ’ t a line yet.
“ He didn ’ t think it was right that I obviously didn ’ t know what was going on. And she hadn ’ t been that drunk, he thought,” he says, opening the door for me. “ She ’ d come on to him.”
“ Fucking whore,” I mutter under my breath as we enter the caf é , but Jeremy hears and chuckles beside me.
“ What a mouth,” he teases.
“ You have no idea.” I smirk, minutely distracted. “ Speaking of my mouth, it ’ s in desperate need of a good stuffing.” Jeremy chokes and coughs, his eyes going wide. “ Food, Jeremy. I meant food. Though I approve of your train of thought. So dirty. I like it.”
“ I don ’ t know what you ’ re talking about. I swallowed a fly.”
“ And perhaps you ’ ll die? I ’ ll order you a spider.” I shudder at the thought, the nursery rhyme playing in my head while I scan the small space for a table.
“ Can I skip to the pig part? Did she swallow a pig, or was it a cow?” Jeremy grimaces, and I chuckle.
“ It was a cow, but let ’ s pretend it was a pig. I ’ m famished.”
“ No horses.”
“ Horses? ”
“ It ’ s what finally killed that poor old lady. I kinda like you breathing.”
“ It ’ s because it makes my breasts move, isn ’ t it?”
“ You have breasts?”
I laugh and pull Jeremy through to the back where a couple just vacated their spot, snagging the only table in the joint before someone else does.
“ This place is something else,” he says, taking it all in as we sit. All seven-odd tables of it.
“ It is. It ’ s small but never stops. This is kind of quiet, so you ’ re in luck. I never get a table this quickly normally.”
“ I can see that. So, what ’ s good to eat here?”
“ Everything,” I say in unison with the waitress as she appears beside us to clear the table. “ The omelets are the best, though I always seem to order the bennie, with a side of extra bacon , of course.”
“ Yeah, that sounds good.”
“ Two eggs bennie with a side of extra bacon? Anything to drink?” the waitress asks.
“ Latte, two sugars, please,” I say.
“ Same, but no sugar. I ’ m sweet enough.”
I scoff at that, making our waitress chuckle. “ Comin ’ right up.”
“ You don ’ t find me sweet?”
“ Sickly so. Now, tell me how you banged all your ex-ho ’ s friends and set me straight,” I tease.
Jeremy laughs and shakes his head.
We fall into easy chatter after that, somehow steering the topic off work, family, or anything else of real value. Instead, we eat and talk more about BU—which is where Luke and Jeremy actually became friends—and how we had almost identical schedules but years apart. Not surprising considering I ’ m almost five years older than he is, which I confess to Jeremy ’ s bemusement. The professors are a big topic, especially Dr. Miller. We both had her for Ethics, and she made our lives a living hell.
“ Oh, god. There was this one time Laura—my best friend—and I came to class late. We may or may not have been hung over.” I titter. “ Okay, so we were probably still drunk.”
Jeremy shakes his head, smiling. “ Why does that not surprise me?”
“ Yeah, yeah. I was a menace to society. So anyway, there she was, reaming us out in front of the entire class, when someone yells, ‘ She ’ s gonna hurl.’”
“ Oh my god, you didn ’ t? ”
“ I totally did. All over her ugly damn shoes.”
Jeremy tips his head back and laughs, the sound rippling through me, raising the tiny hairs on my arms.
“ It was the best, and worst, moment of my life. I was on gum duty, of all fucking things, like it ’ s eighth grade all over again, for a week!”
He grins widely. “ She was so medieval. You got off light, though.”
“ I really did.” I smile, gesturing to our waitress for the check.
“ Vivienne, don ’ t even think about paying.”
I laugh, handing over the cash. “ There ’ s no thinking involved.” I hurry to shoo her off before Jeremy can get his wallet out.
“ You sure know how to emasculate a guy.”
“ Masculinity isn ’ t measured in money, Jeremy.”
His brow pulls slightly as he stares at me for a moment. “ Some men still like to pay on a date, though.”
“ This is far from a date.”
“ Is it?”
I frown.
Before I can rebut, Jeremy opens his mouth again. “ Have dinner with me.”
“ You are persistent,” I say. His smile deepens, one side curling up further than the other, and I stop thinking. “ When?”
“ Tonight?”
I shake my head, smiling. “ I can ’ t , I ’ m busy.”
“ Tomorrow night?”
“ No can do.”
He loses a little of the sparkle in his eyes when he responds. “ Business?”
One corner of my mouth inches upward.
The waitress returns with the change, and I shake my head, telling her to keep it, but before she walks off, I stop her. “ Sorry, may I?” I take the pen and notepad she ’ s holding. My hand flies across the paper as I scribble on it, then rip off the sheet and hand the pad and pen back. “ Thanks.”
She grins at me before walking off.
Jeremy watches on, curiosity plain on his face, but his eyes go wide when I stand, an emotion I can ’ t catch flashing lightning quick across his face.
“ I have to go, but I enjoyed…this.” I give him a genuine smile.
He nods, a small smile of his own playing at the corners of his mouth, but he doesn ’ t say a word. I reach for my clutch, my mind already made up, and do something I haven ’ t done since college. I slip the piece of paper I scrawled on into Jeremy ’ s palm resting on the table before scampering off, an odd sensation sitting in the pit of my stomach.
I ’ m two steps away from the door when my cell dings in my hand. Glancing down, I see the unknown number pop up on the home screen and grin.
You ain ’ t seen nothing yet.
I type a quick one-handed response back as I push open the door.
I ’ m counting on it.