Penny laughed into the phone. “No, it means you two can’t commit, and you care about each other.”
This little speech wasn’t new. Sophie and Penny lectured me every chance they could get.
“You two keep running away from each other, only to end up back together,” Penny said. “Maybe he’s waiting for you to stop running?”
I held back a snort. “Tomas isn’t waiting for anyone. Nor has he ever waited for me after we had sex. We both get what we want and we move on. Like we should do with this conversation.”
“Fine, but I’m calling you extra early tomorrow morning just because I can.”
“Bring it, babe.” Penny slept like the dead. She wasn’t calling anybody…
—
Two hours later, after somehow getting off the phone with Penny, the sun had set, and now I wove through the crowded floor at the Subarctic Club in downtown Boston. The heavy bass to the pop music thrummed through my bones. Just another night of partying for the young and elite. Out of all the places I could’ve selected, I considered this neutral ground. Tomas wasn’t the kind of guy to seek out the flashing lights or the bubblegum, sunshine electronic music blasting through the speakers. He was more of a jazz or big-band club kind of guy. Give him smooth music and I’d be the one playing into his hands.
But not tonight.
I made my way to the bar on the other side of the huge rectangular room. Shelves with beautiful sparkling liquor bottles and dark blue lights extended from the bar below to the ceiling above. This was my first time visiting the place, but I liked the overall nautical vibe.
With so many people here, it was hard to avoid prying eyes. Whether the dancer was a man or a woman, their first glance was what usually enchanted me. A beautiful half-Asian, half-black girl danced suggestively with a group of friends. She looked at me over her shoulder and her face blossomed into a smile. As pretty as she was, though, tonight wasn’t about playing, but finding a place to wait for Tomas. Just the thought of seeing him made my stomach quiver.
I moved faster. Anticipation snaked up my back. I scanned the bar to find a place to slide in. The club was pretty packed, so I had to walk a bit. One man smiled my way and gestured for me to take his place so he could stand behind me.
No thanks. I shook my head. Repaying the favor wasn’t happening. I kept going until I spotted a man leaving the bar, holding a few shots. He hurried back to his table of friends, and I took his place.
Once I slid onto the warmed leather seat, I sighed. There wasn’t a place like this in London. I only had to close my eyes to hear the sounds of the Northeast. In just this one club, I could hear accents that existed only in the United States. Technically, I was more of a New York City girl, but I could learn to love Boston based on what I’d seen so far.
The bartender approached me. “What are you having tonight?”
I hesitated at my choice, but gave in. I’d deal with the real world tomorrow. “Two shots of vanilla vodka, please. No ice.”
“Coming right up.”
Time passed, but not much. Maybe it seemed as if I sat there for a long time, but I didn’t. The moment the seat next to mine opened up, Tomas Goodfellow slid in beside me. My breath caught in my chest and a hum settled in the back of my throat. As much as I wanted to focus on the bartender, who flipped shot glasses and placed them in a perfect row for his cheering customers, my body always reacted the moment I saw Tomas.
Not a single person close to us suspected they were drinking next to one of the richest hoteliers in the world. He was just Tomas to me.
I sucked in a deep breath. Memories of his strong citrus scent with a hint of spice flared in my mind. I could pick out the individual flavors: ginger, bergamot, cardamom, along with a hint of grapefruit and lavender. Damn, he always smelled good enough to eat.
Just one peek wouldn’t hurt.
Eyes forward, Carlie. Of course, I failed miserably and looked at him briefly. My eyes drank him in, from the curve of his strong jawline to his dark brown eyes. And his lips. Tomas had the kind of lips that were meant to be sampled. They were sensuously shaped, practically mocking me while I stared. When I turned my head just right, I could make out the slight upward tilt in his lips.
The bartender asked if he wanted anything.
“Vanilla vodka, please. Two shots,” he said.
Somehow, even though we sat next to each other, our bodies didn’t touch. The edge of his arm, where firm muscles bulged from underneath his dark gray shirt, was mere inches from mine. An itch formed along that tiny patch of my skin. He radiated warmth, and the need to slide into his arms grew overwhelming.
Tomas finished his first shot quickly while I continued to sip mine.
“I’ve been watching you from across the room,” he said to me, a hint of his Portuguese accent touching his words. He had the kind of voice that slid up your inner thighs.
“Are you a stalker or something?” I whispered.