How about never?
Still, the party did sound nice floating through the open kitchen window. People laughing, soft music playing. I could practically hear the champagne fizzing.
Thankfully it was not the raging drug fest I’d been afraid of. It was tempting to just go over, let my hair down for once. But I held firm.
Slade would never, ever leave me alone if I gave in now. Well, not until he moved on to the starlet du jour. Ugh, knowing you were going to get dumped before you even said yes to a first date was not cool.
I didn’t like this feeling at all.
I gave up on the book and went back to the task waiting for me on the table. I leaned over my laptop, trying to stare the numbers on my spreadsheet into submission.
As a sole proprietor/independent contractor I was supposed to do my taxes on a quarterly basis. But I didn't have enough money for an accountant. So I’d gotten some fancy software program that I was still trying to figure out.
Technology was not my friend. I liked paper books, not ereaders. Phones and computers baffled me.
I didn’t even belong to Facebook.
The bottom line was, I hadn't paid taxes for this year at all yet.
Ugh.
A soft rapping came from the front of the house. Basil sat up and started whining pitifully. I sighed.
Someone was at the door.
Obviously it was Slade. The man just would not take ‘no’ for an answer. Annoyance shot through me, intermingled with something else.
Anticipation.
I hated myself for feeling it, but it was there. I hated liars. I never lied. Not even to myself.
Especially not to myself.
I sighed and went to answer the door. Sure enough Slade was standing outside with two glasses of champagne. As usual, he was smiling at me.
What the hell did he have to be so damn happy about?
Oh right. Being rich, famous, gorgeous and talented as hell was probably a lot more fun than being an awkward, chubby girl who liked to spend more time with flour and baking soda than other human beings.
"Hi Slade."
He gave me a charming look and made a scolding sound.
"Tsk tsk tsk. You promised."
"Sorry, I forgot. Paperwork. Really busy."
I brazenly tried to shut the door in his face. But he was too fast. It was almost like he knew what I was going to do before I did it.
He reached down and opened the screen door, inviting himself inside.
Ugh, just come on in. Exactly like a vampire would. Once you let them in, you can never get rid of them.
He glanced over at the stack of papers and receipts on my small dining room table. Which doubled as a desk. And tripled as a pie cooling rack. Or a place to roll out dough.
Every now and then I actually ate a meal there too.
"Come on doll, it's Saturday night. Have a glass of champagne. Loosen up."
If only he knew how much I hated people calling me pet names. Or telling me to loosen up. Or relax.
I didn’t want to relax, dammit. I wanted to be tense. On my guard.
Relaxing was dangerous.
Sexy as hell men were dangerous.
Slade was extra, extra dangerous.
The last time I’d actually taken that advice, I’d gone down a pipeline that was impossible to resist. It had taken me years to clean up my life after the last lothario I’d let in. Jake had destroyed my peace of mind.
He'd nearly destroyed my life.
It was sure as shit not going to happen again.
Well, maybe just for one night… I could just go and come back. See how the other half lived. It’s not like I had to sleep with him for real, was it?
I took the champagne and downed it, handing the glass back to him.
"Happy?"
He was staring at me as if he were star struck. Honestly, the man looked like he wanted to eat me alive. Or lick me anyway.
I wondered what he tasted like.
A funny feeling started to pool in my stomach.
Maybe I kind of wanted him to. Lick me, that is. I had a few ideas about where he could start…
Ugh, no STOP IT JENNY.
He smirked and handed me the other glass. I rolled my eyes and took it, taking a lady like sip. He laughed.
"Come on."
"What?"
He grabbed my hand.
"I'm taking you with me."
"But I'm not dressed!"
He didn't let go of my hand as he turned and looked me over. Thoroughly. Very thoroughly.
He seemed particularly intrigued by my feet.
I was barefoot in jeans and another old rock t-shirt. No bra. My hair was down and I wasn't wearing a stick of makeup.
Not that I ever really did. I liked a good lip gloss now and then. But I already attracted more attention than I wanted. Usually from guys who did not want a meaningful relationship, if you know I’m saying.
Makeup just made it worse.
Meanwhile he was wearing a very expensive looking button down shirt over another pair of soft looking tight jeans.
The man really knew how to wear jeans.
"You look perfect."