"Oh my God," Ellie says, looking around. "Where is Greg? I can't believe it's Cole Chambers himself! In person!"
///
"Well hello again," Asha says, shooting Cole a warning glance.
"This is my sister Ellie, and this is Asha, who you've already met, of course," I say to Cole. "I was just telling them about how you helped me out tonight."
I barely notice the hand Cole places on my back, it feels so natural.
"It was nothing," Cole says, "compared to the help she's given me."
Ellie and Asha beam, on the verge of giggling like schoolgirls.
"Actually," Cole says, looking at me a little seriously, "there was one thing I needed to clear up with you. You ladies don't mind if I steal her for a minute, do you?"
"Really?" Ellie says, a pained expression on her face. "I've got so much stuff I wanted to ask you, though."
"Don't worry," Cole says, glancing at me before looking back at her, "I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again soon."
He turns away, taking my hand and leading me back through the packed tables of happy diners, back through the waiters swinging plates of food through the hallway, through the cooks and smells of the kitchen, out into the alleyway again. It's dark now, and cool, the sounds of my restaurant fading into a distant chorus as the exit door shuts behind us.
"What's up?" I say. "Is this about-"
Before I can finish, Cole spins me around and clutches me to him, pressing his lips to mine. A slow, savored kiss that makes us recognize the hunger we've had to hold back for so long. A kiss that tastes better than any other.
When we finally pull apart, Cole says, "I lied."
"About what?" I reply, a little dazed in the afterglow of the moment.
"When I said I just wanted you to be happy … I meant with me."
"Oh really?"
"Really."
We look into each other until it feels like we're falling, lips closing in so we can come back together again.
"It'll be the last lie I ever tell you, though. I promise," he says, and then our lips meet, and I finally feel complete.
The future's looking up for both of us-I can almost taste it.
The end
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Chapter One
Owen
The elevator doors open and for a second it feels like a theatre curtain unveiling. It's three PM, and the TrendBlend offices are buzzing with the kind of vibrant, frenetic energy you only get when you put some of the West Coast's most creative people in one place. The kind of energy you get when those people are allowed to create work that they love, then put it out to millions of fans. Our website is as likely to release a viral video about sex as it is to start a national discussion about ethics. It's a site that's got the first scoop on the latest trends and the last word on the zeitgeist. And it all originates in an office with as many fashion bloggers as there are political reporters; where feminist activists rub shoulders with movie critics.
Christ, I love my job.
I step out of the elevator clutching my remedy for the mid-afternoon slump: a tall cup of cappuccino (I usually maintain enough coffee in my system to wake the dead) for me and Margo's cinnamon latte in the other. Back into the bustle of the bullpen.
"Hey Owen," Davina, the site's resident make-up expert calls from a three-way conversation she's having.
I turn in her direction without breaking stride. "What's up, D?"
"Wanna do a video with me and Sara tomorrow?" she says through purple-colored pouted lips, angling her mini-skirt-clad hips the way she always does when she talks to me. "‘Hot guys try make-up for the first time.' We're looking for volunteers."
I sip my cappuccino to hide my wincing at the idea.
"Uh … "
She moves away from the others to get a little too close, tongue tracing her lips as she says, "Just tell me what it'll take for me to get my hands on you … " and as her gaze drops below my belt I'm not sure she's even talking about the video anymore.
Davina's got the body of the ballerina, walks like she wants to seduce everybody in the room, and dresses like she's at the beach half the time. She's hot as hell and knows it, and even though she's got a few million followers online who agree, she's been chasing me since I started at TrendBlend. The more I say no, the more her mascara'd eyes flutter at me from across the office. Another place, another time, and I'd let the spark between us flare up, but when you're surrounded by journalists, gossip columnists, and a couple dozen other women trying to jump your skin, you need the diplomacy of a hostage negotiator just to keep your job.