Vanilla On Top(12)

I shut the office door, grabbing my cell phone off the corner of the desk on my way. I settle deep into the leather chair and take a huge lungful of air. I can do this. I dial his number and hit send, mentally shoving the butterflies in my stomach to my lower intestines.

Tony answers the phone on the second ring, his greeting distracted and preoccupied.

“Have I called at a bad time?” I ask, my voice as deep and sexy as I can manage and still sound like myself.

“Heather? Is that you?”

Elation at hearing his voice zings through me. I hear a shift across the line, like he’s either shuffling the phone or moving to another room. “Yes, it’s me. Were you worried I wouldn’t call?”

“If you want the truth, yeah. I wondered if you were going to blow me off.”

I laugh, the practiced sultry sound riding the airwaves between us. “Not anytime soon—and only if you’re very lucky.”

He pauses a moment. Perhaps my double entendre has thrown him off balance. Good. That’s what I hoped for.

“We closed a huge deal this afternoon.” His tone sounds more confident now. “I feel like celebrating. Would you like to meet for drinks or dinner tonight? Maybe where we met?”

My heart skips a beat. He’s been thinking about me more than I thought if he’s that eager to get together—and suggesting the same place we met. Who knew being an emotionally unavailable bitch would be such an aphrodisiac for some men?

“I’m busy tonight,” the lie trips easily from my lips.

“Oh, okay. I’d like to take you to dinner tomorrow night then. Your choice, anywhere you’d like.”

“No,” I say.

“No? But I thought you said…”

I cut him off, eager to put the conversation back in my playing field. “I’d like you to come to my place. I want to cook for you.”

“Really? Wow, okay. That sounds great.”

I give him the time and my address. “Come casual, but be prepared—you will not be getting lucky, nor spending the night.”

“What?”

“It’s never polite to assume.” I grin, pleased with how I handled the call. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”



Saturday evening arrives sooner than I expected. I spent the entire day cleaning my small apartment, preparing food, and physically primping for the night. I may have said he wouldn’t be getting lucky, but I shaved the lower half of my body and lotioned every inch of skin in preparation for the activities I hope will come to fruition. It’s a good thing the walls are thick, or the neighbors might have wondered who I was having a one-sided conversation with all damn day while I practiced my lines.

I fuss over everything one last time, examining the arranged trays, the wine, and the inviting room with its subdued lighting, soft music, and comfy floor pillows. It’s not lost on me that I’ve unconsciously made a picnic in my living room. That steamy scene stuck with me more than I thought. Well, it will either work, or it won’t.

Five times today, I picked up the phone to cancel with Tony. Each time I put it down and talked myself back from the proverbial ledge. It’s a simple evening of talking, drawing out some information about him…getting him to open up…fooling around a little if things go as planned…I can do this, dammit!

I stride to the bathroom to check my appearance again. My hand shakes as I dust on the fine powder to set my minimal makeup. I test the all-day lipstick on a tissue one more time, paranoid it might smear during a crucial moment and make me look like a demented clown. Is seduction always such hard work?

Can I intrigue a man enough to follow my lead or am I the cold fish in bed Jimmy accused me of? He was such a self-centered bastard, always racing for the finish, never caring about my needs. I shake off the negative thoughts and pace my narrow hallway. That one summer of acting in college has helped a lot so far, but I feel like I’m wound tight enough to run to Jersey and back without stopping for water.

Okay, what is the worst that can happen tonight? He laughs at my attempts to be assertive and leaves. That would be the worst thing. Or he could be a maniac who chops me up and feeds the pieces to his dog.

Stop it! You will not talk yourself into a failure this time! Focus on how good-looking he is, and the fact that he wants you.

The doorbell rings and my mind freezes. Yeah, he wants me—for now.





Chapter Four

Tony

The lyrical chime dies beyond the closed door while I shift from foot to foot. Her building is nicer than I anticipated and proves that whatever she does for a living, she’s more than moderately successful. My own apartment near the office is subsidized by the company, so I wouldn’t have to commute from my building in Hoboken, thus working longer hours. Nikko is nothing but smart with managing lost employee time versus cost.