Standing in the silence of the elevator, our hands still connected, each lost in our own thoughts, we don’t look at each other, and we still don’t speak. Memories of Ben flood my mind, but these memories are searching, fleeting thoughts. I can’t remember my body reacting to Ben’s touch like it just did to River’s. He’s so seductive and alluring, he makes me want more than the kiss we just shared. God, does he not want me, is the skinny, frail girl standing next to him just not that appealing? Shaking off my self-doubts because of all the things I am, I’m not a needy, insecure girl. Maybe it’s time to cut my losses and run; finish this interview and take the next plane home.
As the doors open, my scattered thoughts are broken when River asks me if I’m hungry and I am transported into the now. I nod my head yes in response. We exit the elevator and walk through the lobby toward the doors; I’m thinking just finish your job and leave.
I stop abruptly when I remember that I don’t have any of the materials I need for the interview. I left my messenger bag in my hotel room when River knocked unexpectedly on my door. “Shit, I forgot my bag and I need it for the interview.”
River chuckles at me and leans in quietly. He seductively whispers, “Could we do the interview thing tomorrow because you’re looking far too sexy for me to concentrate on anything other than you?”
My emotions are a tangled mess as he gestures for a cab. “Are you playing some kind of game with me?”
“What do you mean?” he says, running his hands through his hair. He sounds genuinely confused as he opens the door to the cab.
Trying to keep my voice down I say, “What do I mean?” Then I point to the top floor of the building as we scoot into the cab. “What was that up on the balcony?”
River tells the cab driver, “N9 Steakhouse please.”
Then after turning to face me he says, “That was a kiss and I think . . . no, I know you know what that is.” His tone is much harsher than I have heard from him before.
My eyes open wide and my mouth drops open. I’m at a loss for words.
I don’t have to speak because River does before I can. “We’ve met before you know?”
I look at him a little perplexed and a little hurt that he hasn’t mentioned it. I nod my head indicating that, of course, I remember. Then with a low raspy voice I answer, “You remember meeting me and haven’t said anything up until now. Why?”
With an equally low voice and the harshness seemingly gone in his tone, he says, “Why haven’t you, Dahlia?” He’s looking at me with his powerful green eyes and I know there’s no seeing the future in them right now.
With honesty pouring out of me and thankful that he actually does remember me, I answer, “I just didn’t think you remembered me, that’s the only reason.” And I wonder why he seems to think there is more to it than that.
“That’s rich,” he says almost with a laugh, his harsh tone returning. He clenches his fists as he leans his head back on the cab seat.
I stare past him looking out the window to avoid his gaze. We are sitting still in the traffic. How appropriate. I don’t want to look at him. I’m trying not to cry. I’m confused and not sure what to think. After all the flirting, the attraction, and now the bitterness; his emotions seem to ping-pong faster than I can keep track of and I know I have to get out of this game.
With sudden clarity, I turn my entire body to face him. Doing this with a dress on isn’t easy. I brace my hand on the seat in front of me so the slick leather bottom of my skirt doesn’t slide across the bench and I fully cross my legs. The cab starts moving again; horns are blowing and bright colored lights are flashing everywhere.
“River, I don’t want to play games. I don’t know what is going on here, but let’s just go back to my hotel, let me get my stuff, finish the interview, and then we can say our goodbyes.” I let him know this in as flat a tone as I can, knowing this is not what I want but what needs to happen.
Ignoring my request to change our destination he turns his entire body toward me. With his elbow up on the ledge of the back window and his knee slightly bouncing he says, “Dahlia, I’m not playing any games here. I’m just trying to figure things out. So let’s start with the night we met, okay?”
I nod but think this isn’t going to go well at all.
Sitting up and in a monotone, but rather harsh voice he asks, “Why did you leave the bar that night with another guy?”
“What are you talking about?”