Best Dating Rules: A Romantic Comedy (The Best Girls Book 2) (14 page)

“I have to be careful how I sit in this one. It’s really short.”

“But it’s tight. If they’re short and loose, you have to worry about the wind catching them.”

“Okay. And the blouse?”

“Wear that black one with the ruffles.”

“You don’t think it’s too low cut?”

“No, it’s not even as low cut as what most people wear to work. It’s seems low cut to you because you’re not used to it. And wear a necklace, you know, the black one with the dangly chains. It’s not too flashy.”

“Heels or flats?”

“Is he tall?”

“Probably six feet tall.”

“Are you walking from the subway?”

“I’m taking a taxi.”

“Definitely heels,” she said. “But Emily—one more thing.”

“What?”

“Don’t let this guy hurt you. Okay?”

“I told you—”

“I know what you said, but I can tell you’re hot for him.”

“Even if I did decide to date him, I don’t think he’d hurt me. He’s older, more mature. I don’t think he’d be into playing games like that.”

“Sister, trust me. I know from experience older guys can play games right along with the rest of them. They have more years of practice at doing it.”

“What do you mean? Is there something you haven’t told me?”

Instantly she masked the emotion on her face. “Nope. I’m simply giving you some sisterly advice.”

“Okay, thanks for the help.” Emily smiled. “Love you, Sister.”

“You, too.”

Emily arrived ten minutes early to the Green Scene. She was surprised to find it looked much more like a club than a coffee bar. She found a small table on the far side and sat in a chair where she could watch the door. There was a jazz band setting up to play, so she tried not to sit too close to the stage. She wanted to be able to talk to Asher without yelling. She ordered a café mocha from the waitress, feeling relieved she’d be able to pay for her own drink as she planned. She drummed her fingers nervously on the table while she waited for Asher Denning to make his appearance.

“Hey, Emily. What are you doing here?” Emily looked up in surprise to see Grace standing beside her table, looking anxiously over her shoulder.

“Hi Grace. I, uhmm... What are you doing here?”

“Spencer told me you were having dinner with your mom and stepdad tonight. What happened? Why are you here?”

“Spencer? Uhmm... I had a change of plans. But don’t tell—”

“Hullo, Emily. You look smashing!” Asher Denning slipped into the chair beside her. He had on a tight black t-shirt that accentuated the bulge of his muscles and contrasted with his blond hair. “Have you been here long?” He glanced up, recognizing Grace, who was staring at him with wide eyes. “Oh, hullo! Grace, my love, you won’t let on to the rest of the class we were here together. Will you, love? Why don’t you sit down and join us? We’re just having a little chin wag.”

Emily’s cheeks were burning, and she could hear the blood pounding in her ears. She turned pleading eyes to Grace, whose face was blanched. “Grace, I can explain. But don’t tell Spencer.” She tried to keep her voice low enough Asher couldn’t hear as he waved down a waitress.

“Spencer’s here,” whispered Grace, throwing frantic glances behind her.

“He’s here?” Emily slunk down. “Where?”

“Hey, Grace,” she heard Spencer’s voice. “We’ve got a table over here. Who’re you talking to?”

Spencer’s smiling face appeared over Grace’s shoulder as she spun around quickly and tried to herd him back toward their table. But Spencer stopped in his tracks when his eyes fell on Emily. At first he brightened with a smile and opened his mouth to speak to her. But then his face fell as he glanced from her to Asher Denning and back again. She cringed while he took in the low cut of her blouse and the lip-gloss she’d added at the last minute. He nodded his head in her direction.

“Hi, Emily.” His lips pressed firmly together. He turned and began making his way toward the door.

“Wait, Spencer,” called Grace as she tried to catch her brother.

Emily sat in stunned silence. She didn’t get up and chase him out the door. There was no point. What could she say? She really had no defense. She was a worm—lower than a worm—worm excrement. She’d seen the hurt in his eyes, and she knew she was solely responsible for that pain. She’d made up excuses to justify her behavior, but none of it changed the lie she’d told to Spencer.

“Hullo, love. Did Grace leave?”

She swallowed, but couldn’t manage to speak. She struggled to hold back tears as she nodded at Asher.

He flashed her his million dollar smile and leaned forward to put his elbows on the table, his biceps flexing as he moved. “Did I tell you how smashing you look?” he asked with hooded eyes. “What type of bevvy did you get?”

“It’s a mocha.” Emily managed to spit the words out.

“Coffee? Oh yes, I did ask you out for coffee, didn’t I? I hope you don’t mind I got a pint of lager, instead.” The band started playing, and Asher slid his chair closer to Emily’s, turning it to face the band.

The waitress returned with his beer and managed to rub most of her upper body against him while placing it on the table. He rewarded her efforts with a wink, smiling at the astonished expression on Emily’s face. “She’s a friendly sort, that one.”

Emily stiffened when he placed his arm around the back of her chair. But he didn’t actually touch her, so she relaxed and tried to concentrate on the music, asking herself why on earth she’d agreed to come.

As if sensing her uneasiness, he leaned his head in close and said, “You know, you really do have an amazing talent with watercolor. That truly is why I asked you to come.”

She warmed at his praise, but only managed to murmur, “Thanks.”

“I speak truly. I’m well chuffed with your work. Quite extraordinary for your age. How old are you?”

“Twenty four.”

“Blinding!” he said with a warm smile. “I’ve found there are plenty of fit girls in New York. But talent—real talent—that’s hard to come by. Finding them together is extraordinary.” He gave her shoulder a casual squeeze and left his hand there.

The hand remained unmoving on her shoulder until the next song was finished and he pulled it down to clap for the band. “Are you enjoying the music? This group has talent and a quarter. Can I buy you another beverage?” he asked as he flagged down the waitress. “How about a glass of wine? You seem like a red wine girl to me.”

“I am,” she admitted. “Sometimes, but not tonight. I’ll stick with coffee.”

Undeterred, he ordered another beer for himself and a glass of wine for her. “You seem a bit stressed. You need a glass of wine, not more coffee. Relax! You’ll suppress your talent if you stay uptight.” He put his arm back around her but his hand never strayed past her shoulder.

When another couple strolled past he haled them to the table. “This is Rachel and Travis, friends of mine, newlyweds actually. They’re both teachers. And this is Emily Best, my most promising student.” He had the grace to add, “I’m afraid I’m not responsible for her talent as she’s only attended a solitary class.” Emily smiled at the friendly-looking couple, but inside she was still tormented over the memory of Spencer’s hurt expression.

“So you’re an artist?” asked Rachel, her bright eyes framed with spirally curls and a genuine smile.

Emily endeavored to control her growing despondency; she couldn’t be rude to such a sweet girl. “No, I’m an accountant, really. Art is a hobby.”

“But she has amazing talent. You should see the things these hands can do.” Asher reached across the table. She watched dispassionately as he lifted her hand to press his lips against it. She realized with shock she felt no tingle whatsoever from his touch, nothing like the sensations she fought against when Spencer touched her.

“How long have you been dating?” Rachel asked.

“Oh, we’re not dating,” Emily protested.

“This is our first date,” Asher corrected, “but hopefully not the last.”

“Well, I hope you’ll be as lucky as we are,” declared Rachel, as she glanced adoringly at her handsome husband who returned the look.”

Watching the happy couple interact only plunged Emily further into dejection. The glass of wine beckoned and she gave in to the temptation to take a few sips. A few sips gradually morphed into an entire glass. The resulting numbing effect allowed her to focus on the music and conversation rather than thinking about her earlier confrontation with Spencer. Then his face flashed into her mind and she plunged back into her depressed state. In desperation, she stepped into the ladies room to call Charlie, but her sister didn’t answer the phone. She left a pitiful message, begging her to call back.

When she returned to the table, she found herself once again alone with Asher and a new glass of wine on the table. She considered calling it an evening, but Asher pleaded, “Let’s stay until the band breaks, and then we’ll take a stroll. It’s still early.”

Sinking back into her chair, she sipped her wine again. She usually didn’t have more than one glass of wine, so she knew better than to drink the entire glass. But after a few more swallows, she finally began to feel less miserable about the evening. The music was soft and soothing, and she relaxed as Asher rubbed lightly on her arm. Soon she felt herself drifting off, and she laid her head against his shoulder.

She awoke abruptly as a flash went off in her face. Opening her eyes, she blinked to focus on Becca standing in front of her with a victorious expression.

“Thanks for the picture! I don’t know whether to send this one to the NYC Word or to just send it to Spencer.”

Her heart was pounding, and she tried to stand up. But her legs felt wobbly and the room started spinning.

“Where are you going?” asked Asher as he gently pushed her back in her seat. “A few more songs until the band breaks. I’ll make sure you get home.”

Tears began to stream gently down Emily’s face as she laid her head back on his shoulder. She’d ruined everything. After Spencer saw this picture he’d never forgive her. And for what? Asher might have a cool English accent, but he wasn’t any better looking than Spencer. In fact, Spencer had nicer teeth. And he was taller. She liked really tall guys. And Spencer was sweeter. And he didn’t talk her into drinking alcohol. She liked Spencer better than Asher. She liked... Spencer. She liked Spencer, and it was too late. She’d ruined everything.

She dozed off again and woke up at Asher’s gentle urging. “Wake up, love. Here, finish your drink.” She sat up and grabbed the table to stop the room from spinning. Only a glass and a half. She shouldn’t be dizzy.

“No. I don’t feel good. I don’t want any more wine.”

“But you haven’t even finished a second glass.”

“No. I need to go home. I have to work tomorrow.”

“Okay, fine.” His voice was terse. “Let’s go.”

She stood up, leaning against him for support as they started for the door. He chuckled. “You don’t drink much, do you? Less than two glasses of wine, and you can’t even walk by yourself?”

The room tipped at an awkward angle. “I—I think I need to sit down. Can you call me a taxi?”

“Sure. Are you okay?”

“Yes. I’m fine.” His eyes appeared in her vision, topped by brows wrinkled with concern. His face flew away as everything went black.

Spencer couldn’t believe it. Emily was totally smashed. Passed out, drunk! When Grace had called him to come and help her, he’d almost refused. He wanted to throw up when he first received the offensive picture of Emily cozying up with the blond guy whose muscles were busting out of his shirt. Now he was just angry. Angry with Becca for sending him the photo. Angry with Emily for lying to him. Angry with himself for wasting his time and emotions on her.

She’d evidently passed out at the bar, and the stupid blond guy didn’t even know where she lived. What was she doing out with a guy she barely knew? He’d looked in her cell phone and found Grace’s number and called her to come fetch Emily. He hadn’t even stayed around to make sure she’d come. When Spencer arrived with Grace, the blond guy was long gone. And Emily was drunk. Incoherent. Asleep. He’d had to pick her up and carry her to the taxi, and she hadn’t even woken up.

“Should we call her parents?” Grace asked.

“No, we should probably stick her in her room and let her sleep it off.”

“Spencer, I know you’re hurt. But think for a minute. She’s not waking up. I don’t think she drinks that much.”

“Well, maybe she drinks more when she’s out on a hot date.”

Grace grabbed his arm. “Or maybe it’s something besides alcohol. Maybe you’re right—maybe she’s just drunk. But if not, if someone gave her something—some type of drug—she could die from it.”

She could die? He wanted to yell at her or maybe he never wanted to speak to her again. But he didn’t want her to die. “So what do you propose?”

“I say, let’s call Mr. Gherring and let them make the decision. It’s the right thing to do.”

“Okay, but I don’t want him to think I got her drunk.”

“He won’t—I’m your witness.”

Gherring answered on the second ring.