Playing It Safe

CHAPTER THREE


It’s like Africa hot in this tent, or oven—whichever way you want to refer to this plastic, white-walled room of heat. Even though it’s mid-September in Miami, if you’re in a tent at any time of the year, it’s the equivalent of a sweat lodge. As for me, the secret to Secret deodorant is to not sweat like a pig. Which completely defeats the purpose since your secret is out of the bag, as evident by the giant rings of perspiration currently gracing my white pintuck blouse. It’s a classy look.

I tried to talk them out of using this thing, but there was no use. Mr. Granderson, my client, refused to hear anything to the contrary. His only requirement for me was to make his baby girl happy at her rehearsal dinner. And his baby girl wanted a tent, so whatever baby wants, baby gets.

Speaking of “baby,” the few times we spoke during the planning stages of her engagement party she’d sometimes get a dreamy, faraway look in her eye. As if the mere thought of her betrothed would incapacitate her ability to hold a conversation. I can’t lie. I’m jealous. I want that for myself. I want to meet someone who robs me of speech, makes my pulse race, and loves me beyond measure. It might be a pipe dream at this point in my life. I’m barely holding on to the hope of finding “him.” And as I stand to the far side of the sweat tent observing the guests congratulate “baby,” I picture myself in her shoes.

People raise their champagne-filled flute glasses until someone clinks theirs with a spoon to quiet the crowd. “Congratulations, and may you both live in the glow of love for years to come. To Julia and …”

Damn, even in my daydream I can’t muster up a make-believe name for the faceless man I’m supposed to be engaged to. If that’s not pathetic, I don’t know what it is.

A defeated sigh escapes me as I scan the crowd again, looking for the groom-to-be. I never got a chance to meet him since “baby” said he was out of town on business. I think I spot the back of his head finally just as I catch Lisette heading my way from the corner of my eye. By the determined look on her face, my first thought is something happened with the caterer, which always seems to be the case at these things. But I quickly realize it’s much worse than that by the one word that spills out of her mouth as soon as she reaches me.

“Aiden.”

My voice catches in my throat when I ask, “Aiden, what?”

She chews nervously on her bottom lip because if there is one rule in regards to my personal life it’s this: never speak of Satan, a.k.a. Aiden. However, I’ll make an exception this one time and give you the abbreviated version.

Aiden was my boyfriend right after college. We were together for two years, five months, and sixteen days. But who’s counting? Um, this jackass, that’s who. I put up with so much bullshit from Aiden, it was sad.

For example, he had this “I’m finding myself” phase where almost every day for a good four months he was all about trying to get in touch with his inner Aiden, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean. He started out by devouring every self-help book he could get his hands on. Then he changed his eating habits to a macrobiotic-type diet. This didn’t bother me too much because I could always fend for myself come dinnertime. But when he started talking about going to get his-and-hers enemas, I was done. It got to the point where whenever he said he was “working on Aiden,” and yes he would refer to himself in the third person, I would tell him to just look in a goddamn mirror and call it a day. Then there was his “I’m a gamer” phase where he would tune the whole world out for hours at a time, sometimes entire weekends, just so he could cultivate his video-gaming skills. Because according to Aiden, he was going to “get the gold at the next World Cyber Games.” For the record, that never happened.

That’s just a couple of the things he did over the course of our relationship that I dealt with. And why did I put up with it? Mostly because I was young and na?ve and very much in love. And because he would tell me that I was his girl and that we were going to get married and have lots of babies and a whole slew of garbage that I ate right out of the palm of his hand. That is, until the day he called and said that he never wanted to see me again.

“Yeah, that’s really funny, Aiden,” I had said to him.

He was dead serious because the motherf*cker had up and left for California that morning to shack up with some broad he had never met in person. Thank you very much, World Wide Web.

Long story short, ever since him I’ve been extremely wary when it comes to men and letting my guard down. And as luck would have it, I’ve had the worst pick of the litter since him.


“He’s here,” Lisette says.

“Here,” I repeat. “As in at this party?”

My eyes canvass the crowd, darting from face to face until Lisette stands in front of me to block my view.

“It’s worse than that,” she says.

Before I can ask her how that’s possible, I peek over her shoulder and see him.

The years have been kind to the devil incarnate. Aiden looks better than ever, to my utter disappointment. I’d been wishing he would have developed a deformity à la Hunchback of Notre Dame by now, but no such luck. He still looks male-model worthy with his cropped black hair, piercing blue eyes, and what I know is a lean, muscular physique hidden beneath his dark suit. The bastard could still give David Beckham a run for his money.

Lisette snaps her fingers within an inch of my nose. “Hey, are you okay?” she asks.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

I’m not. In my head there are alarm bells going off, and all I can think of is why the hell is he here?

“Did you know he was going to be here?” I ask while trying to sneak another peek over her shoulder.

“No! How can you ask me that?” She sounds appalled that I would even entertain the idea for a second. “Did you know he was going to be here?”

My shocked expression along with my eyebrows flying up to my hairline is enough of an answer.

“Relax. I just meant that since the name of Sophia’s fiancé was Aiden, you might have asked about it.”

“Who’s Sophia?”

“Julia, that’s the bride-to-be,” she deadpans.

“Oh! You mean ‘baby,’” I answer.

“Who’s ‘baby’?” Lisette asks.

“Never mind,” I grumble under my breath. “Wait a minute, what did you mean you thought I would have asked about Sophia’s fiancé’s name?”

She gently grabs my arm and tries to move me, but I don’t budge. And that’s because I finally put two and two together as I see Aiden take “baby” in his arms and kiss her as if she’s the last woman on earth.

“Julia, come on,” Lisette says softly. “Let’s get you out of here.”

“You have got to be shitting me. He’s engaged to ‘baby’?” I ask her in a deathly quiet voice.

It’s too late to leave because I’ve been spotted. Sophia, “baby,” or whatever the hell her name is, is pointing me out to Aiden and leading him by the hand to where I’m standing.

“Dammit, they’re coming over here. What do I do?” I ask Lisette through clenched teeth.

She steps to the side and whispers, “Act natural.”

“Easy for you to say,” I say under my breath just before they reach us.

With each step the look on Aiden’s face is priceless. He obviously had no idea that I was the party planner. And when he’s finally standing right in front of me, close enough for me to kick in the nuts if I were so inclined, his eyes quickly move between me and Sophia in disbelief. She’s completely oblivious to the potential shit-storm brewing right in front of her. Honestly, I feel bad about how she’ll react when she finds out because she’s a genuinely nice person and I’m sure she won’t want to know how much of a dick her fiancé is.

“There you are,” Sophia says happily. “I was looking all over for you. I wanted to introduce you to my fiancé, Aiden.”

“We already kn—”

Aiden speaks over me and cuts me off. “Met.”

Sophia looks confused, and I’m staring at Aiden with the phoniest smile I can muster.

“You two know each other?” she asks.

“No,” he tells her. “I mean we met earlier tonight.”

Sophia seems reassured and smiles at him. “Awesome! Didn’t she do an amazing job, honey?”

I’m too shocked to say anything, and my mouth drops open as a result. Lisette pokes me in the ribs with her elbow, and I turn to see her give me a chiding look. I mouth What? to her, and she plasters a fake smile across her red lips. When I turn my attention back to the lovebirds, they’re staring at me expectantly. Well, Sophia most definitely is. Aiden looks more like a deer in the headlights.

“So will you do it?” Sophia asks.

“I’m sorry,” I answer her. “I didn’t hear what you were asking me.”

She laughs. “I was wondering if you’d be willing to help plan the wedding.”

Hmmm, let’s see … help plan the wedding of an ex who I thought would be the man I would be marrying someday. Um, that would be a big no.

“When is the wedding?” Lisette asks.

She can’t be serious. It’s my turn to poke her in the ribs, but she doesn’t even flinch.

“April fifteenth,” Sophia says with a lilt in her voice.

“Oooh, I’m sorry, Sophia,” Lisette responds with just the right amount of regret in her tone. “But we’re solidly booked from here to next summer.”

Wow! I’m impressed with Lisette’s lie, and I grin from ear to ear in approval as she tilts her head to acknowledge me.

“That’s too bad,” Aiden says while hugging Sophia from behind.

“Yeah, too bad,” she agrees with a sad smile. “I really would have loved to have you do it.”

“I would have loved to help,” I finally say even though I want to laugh like a lunatic at the absurdity of the situation. Of course, that would be after I kick Aiden in the nuts. And maybe stab him in the eye with a dull knife.

“Sophia!” someone yells from the far side of the tent.

“Oh, I have to go,” she quickly says and then extracts herself from Aiden’s embrace. “I’ll catch up with you later. Okay?”

“Sure thing,” I answer with a curt nod.

And then there were three.

“I’ll leave you two to talk,” Lisette abruptly announces and walks away.

And then there were two.

We stare at each other for a few seconds as if in a standoff; there are so many thoughts swirling through my head that I can’t pluck just one out. But if I know Aiden at all, which I really don’t, as proven by his disappearance and sudden reappearance, he’ll have some crap to say about all of this.

“It’s great to see you, Julia.”

“It’s great to see me?” I try the words out slowly. The feel of them on my tongue tastes as bitter as I sound. I hate that I’m still affected by his dismissal of me after all these years. I hate that I’m that girl: jealous and unforgiving and yes, still heartbroken.

He sighs and runs a hand through his short hair. Looking around nervously, he smiles sheepishly at me before taking a step forward. “I don’t know what else to say, but it is great to see you.”

“You don’t know what else to say to me?”

“Did you turn into a parrot since I last saw you?” he quips with a laugh. “The Julia that I knew would at least have something to say.”

I take a moment to gather my thoughts, opening and closing my hands into fists at my sides. I tilt my head to the side when my mind clears and the right words are finally at the ready.

“You no good, son of a bitch, assclown have the balls to think this is cute, don’t you?”

He raises his hands in defense.

“It’s not a question I want you to answer, Aiden.” I roll my eyes. “And as for ‘the old Julia,’ she’s gone. But the new and improved Julia has a ton of things to say to you. Shall I start at how I faked every orgasm? Perhaps I should start with how you disappeared five years ago, never to be seen or heard from again?”


The faking orgasm bit is a total lie. The man knew how to make my body sing like no other has been able to do since, but it gives me a glimmer of happiness to say it anyway. Does that make me a vindictive bitch? Probably. Do I care? No.

“Okay, okay,” he says and reaches out with his hand to grab my arm. He pulls me along to the corner of the tent while whispering, “Do you mind keeping your voice down?”

We come to a stop, and I look down in disgust at his hand still gripping my arm. “Get your f*cking hand off of me.”

Aiden does so immediately and looks over his shoulder. Thankfully, Sophia still hasn’t noticed our little tête-à-tête.

“I guess the idea that you could look past this was just a pipe dream, huh?” he asks.

“You know what, Aiden? After tonight I’ll never have to see you again, so why don’t we forget we ever saw each other, and you can go back to whatever rock you crawled out from under.”

I turn on my heel and walk as briskly as possible to the nearest opening in the tent, leaving Aiden behind. The idiot in me who’s a sucker for punishment forces me to look over my shoulder at him. He’s still standing where I left him with a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. God, what I wouldn’t give to smack that look off of his face. But instead, I keep walking, desperately in search of Lisette or alcohol, whichever I find first.

Luckily, she finds me first and gives me a quick once-over. She tells me in no uncertain terms that I am to go home for the night and that she’ll talk to me tomorrow. I’m not going to disagree with her for once either. So with only an hour or so left at this engagement party from hell, I decide she’s absolutely right and leave Lisette in charge.

Walking through the wall of humidity and trying my damndest to not think about Aiden, I finally reach the front of the house and hand my keys off to the valet to wait for my Land Rover to be brought around. While I wait and still not think about Aiden, which means I’m totally thinking about him, I rummage through my purse to find a ponytail holder since my long blond hair is sticking to the back of my neck.

Gathering it all in my hands, I make a messy knot on the top of my head and instantly feel cooler. The night breeze off the ocean only a couple of miles away is finally making itself useful. It would’ve been nice if it had shown up about an hour ago, but you can’t have it all. I cannot wait to get home and wash away the sweat and stink off of me. My signature scent is Christian Dior’s Miss Dior Cherie, but right now it’s more like a mixture of perfume and body odor and not at all pleasant or alluring. And oh my God, don’t even get me started on the swamp ass.

My purse is ginormous, so I can probably find more than Mary f*cking Poppins in this thing. I pull out a loose piece of paper to create a makeshift fan and then begin fanning myself as a shiny, cherry-red BMW pulls up to the valet. I snort rather unattractively at the sight, because whoever the hell is arriving to the party is almost two hours late. This I have to see.

A second valet attendant, not to be confused with the one who is currently out searching somewhere near the Sphinx for my vehicle, steps forward to open the passenger-side door. Out unfurl two very nicely shaped, tanned, long legs attached to a rather good-looking chick, if I do say so myself. Brunette, guessing about average height, on the skinny side, wearing a Marc Jacobs pleated dress that is color-blocked in black and white, showing off a lot of skin—tastefully, of course, and as only Marc Jacobs can because the man is pure genius. I was eyeing the same dress last week at Nordstrom’s. Lucky bitch.

Whatever, like you wouldn’t be thinking the same thing.

Trying not to attract any attention to myself while I stare longingly at her outfit, I scoot to my left and try to blend in with the plant life. The driver of the BMW steps out. Lo and behold, there he is, Bruce Wayne himself. Or as I know him: Alex.

Really? Now, here, of all places, when I look like shit on a shingle and I’m feeling like a complete scatterbrain thanks to Aiden?

I duck my head before he can notice me, but as luck would have it, the expedition to find my car finally ends, and it appears directly behind his. The attendant gets out of my car and starts looking for me at the same time Alex decides to walk around the hood of his car to hand his keys over to the other attendant. My sorry attempt to hide can’t last much longer when the valet guy finally spots me and whistles to get my attention.

“Dude, I can totally see you. Whistling is so not necessary,” I say quietly while clenching my teeth. Especially since everyone is now looking in my direction, Alex included.

Oh well, here goes nothing.

Craptastic fan in hand, I step out of the shadows and walk over to my car like I own the joint while keeping my eyes trained on the “Whistling Dixie” valet.

“Julia?” I hear Alex’s deep, velvety voice loud enough that I can’t even think about pretending that I don’t.

Turning my head as I unwillingly hand over a tip to the valet, I see Alex already making his way over to me in a few elegant strides. Yes, that’s right, I said elegant. The man practically glides when he walks. It’s lovely, and obviously I’ve paid too much attention to it before to be able to categorize it as such. And dear Lord, he looks delicious. He’s wearing what could only be a tailor-made black suit, but no tie, and the top button is undone on his crisp white dress shirt.

He flashes me his dimples when he steps right in front of me, crowding my personal space. “Were you really not going to say hello to me?”

“Alex! Oh my God, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that was you,” I say, doing my best at feigning ignorance.

“Bullshit.”

“Like I would ignore you? Please, what kind of person do you think I am?”

“The kind of person who was ignoring me,” he quickly answers.

“Did I hurt your feelings?”

His crystal-blue eyes light up in amusement, and he leans in an inch so that he’s a little closer while putting one hand over his heart. “I’m crushed.”

With him being so close, I take in the wonderful smell that is Alex: a cocktail of perfectly blended amounts of sandalwood and the beach and something else that eludes me. Whatever it is, it’s heavenly. Then it hits me—I’m sure the stink emanating from me is infiltrating his nostrils, so I take a small step backward just as I hear a woman’s annoyed voice coming from somewhere behind him.

“Alex, what are you doing?”

His smile vanishes, and he smoothly pulls back to stand up straight and turns around to face the direction of the woman he arrived with. She’s far too young to be with him, and yes that might be jealousy rearing its ugly head, which when added to the stress of facing my ex again makes me more testy than usual.

“Do you know her?” she asks, clearly bothered by his actions. Can’t say that I blame her. If I were her and my date was all up in some other woman’s grill, I’d be a little peeved too.

“Marisa, this is Julia, a very good friend of mine,” Alex clarifies for her. Then he turns his attention back to me and says, “Julia, this is my friend Marisa.”

Oh, Alex, you have no idea the mess you’ve just made. If Miss Teen USA has any sense, she would have picked up on the fact that he said “good friend” when he spoke about me and “friend” when he described his relationship with her. Although, I have to admit, I find it to be rather intriguing that he would identify us like that for her benefit—or maybe he did it for mine? See what I mean? He’s totally an enigma.


“Alex,” she coos while wrapping herself around his arm, “I thought I was your good friend.”

Yup, she picked up on it without missing a beat.

She giggles, and I swear the sound makes me want to vomit. Alex, in turn, has a tight smile on his face and looks uncomfortable while shifting his weight from foot to foot. Me? I just want to get the hell out of Dodge.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she says with a bright smile and way too enthusiastically before extending her hand to me.

I grab it and give it a firm shake. “Hi, Marisa, it’s nice to meet you too.”

Her eyes scan me from head to toe and back again dismissively as if she were Joan Rivers from Fashion Police. With that move, she’s officially made it onto my shit list.

“So,” she says, “how exactly do you know the Grandersons?”

“I don’t.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because.”

I know I’m being purposely evasive, but now I’m having too much fun making Alex more uncomfortable by the minute. Plus, I don’t like her knowing too much about me. Call it women’s intuition, but something about her just rubs me the wrong way.

Marisa lets out a dry laugh. “My, my, aren’t we mysterious?”

“I could say the same about you. Alex has never mentioned you before. Have you, Alex?” Turning my gaze back to him, he tries to hide the smirk that is threatening to crack the corners of his mouth.

He clears his throat before saying, “Marisa is an old friend of the family.”

“An old friend? Well, now you’re just being silly, Alex,” she says, trying to play it off like he didn’t just diss her right in front of me again.

“Alrighty then, you two kids have a great night and try not to be too silly with each other. I’ve gotta get on home. It was nice meeting you, Marisa. Alex … I’ll see you Friday night.”

I couldn’t help myself; I had to throw that last dig out just to see if she’d catch it. By the look of irritation on her face, I’d say she did and is currently trying to figure out why the hell he’s going to be seeing me on Friday night.

As I walk around the hood of my car, I can tell she’s whispering something to him, but when he answers her back, I can hear it clear as a bell. “I’ll tell you later, Marisa.”

Throwing my jumbo purse haphazardly onto the passenger seat before slamming the door, I shoot one last glance over at Alex, who is trying to steer Marisa toward the party. He runs his hand through his dirty blond hair and then looks over his shoulder in my direction while sporting a devilish grin.

Such a flirty bastard. Ugh … and I’m a total sucker for it every single time.

Not more than five minutes into my drive home, my cell phone dings, alerting me of a text. While stopped at a red light, I fish it out of my purse and unlock the screen to see a new text from Alex.

Payback’s a bitch, you know?

I quickly shoot off a text back, playing it off like I’m clueless. I love this little cat-and-mouse game with him. It’s entirely too much fun. Not to mention that it takes my mind off of Aiden.

Payback for what?

Just as the light turns green, my phone beeps again with another text from him.

You’ve been a bad girl, and I’m going to have to teach you a lesson.

When I reach the next red light, I grab the phone and stare at the screen in a daze because that right there might have crossed into the point of no return. You don’t see me complaining, but I’m kind of surprised and not exactly sure how I should answer him. What the f*ck does he mean, “teach me a lesson”? Is he going to put me across his knee and slap my ass with a ruler? Is it wrong that the thought of that has me so turned on right now that I want to turn my car around and climb his body like Mount Everest?

My phone beeps again while in my hands with another text from Alex.

Cat got your tongue?

With my heart racing and my stomach doing a somersault, I type out an answer. Two can play this game.

No, I’m just looking forward to it …

My high is short-lived when he responds so quickly this time, it’s scary.

I know you are ;)

Well played, Mr. Holt, well played. For the first time in God knows how long, I’m left speechless. Now I’m just wondering what the hell I’ve gotten myself into.