Resplendent (17 page)

“Tell me what’s bothering you,” I said softly. “Is it because I’m late?” I silently cursed myself for not being more prepared this morning.

She leaned her right arm on the door panel. I squeezed her hand.

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it,” she said, her fingers placed softly over her lips.

But I did worry about it. I worried about anything that upset her.

I tugged on her hand. “Hey, look at me,” I said. She turned her face toward me and I couldn’t help but smile at her. She just had that effect on me. “I’m sorry I was late,” I said honestly. “I know this is important to you.”

She exhaled and squeezed my hand. “It’s not that.”

I waited for her to continue, but she didn’t. If it wasn’t that then what was it? Could it be that dickwad?

I scowled at the thought. “Is your
ex
-boy toy being an asshole?”

She let go of my hand and scoffed.

“He’s not an asshole. He’s kind and considerate, and he takes care of me,” she said quickly, with a hint of annoyance in her voice.

I clenched my hands on the steering wheel and tried to take in a deep breath. It didn’t help calm me down.

“
Took
care of you,” I corrected.

“Don’t get snotty. You were a dick for selling me out that morning.” She turned her head and looked out the window. She crossed her arms over her chest. “You and your damn women.”

My teeth were grinding together. Had she talked to someone?

“It’s not what you think. I don’t have parades of women.”

She continued to stay quiet, and after a few minutes, I pulled her arms free and grabbed her hand again.

“Peach, nothing happened.” I had to keep my eyes on the highway but kept shooting glances at her. Her face gave nothing away. She was looking out the window as the city lights whizzed by, and she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.” But it did, I could tell she was really upset about whatever it was.

“Tell me what’s really wrong,” I persisted.

“I’m fine.”

I’m fine
. Fighting words.

I put the blinker on and moved the car to the far right lane where the next exit would be.

“Maybe I should pull over so we can talk about it.”

She placed her hand on my arm in a panic. “All right!”

I switched lanes again and picked up speed.

“I talked to Sebastian a couple hours ago and we got into a fight,” she admitted and looked over at me. It took every ounce of effort in my body not to smile. But the slight twitch of my lips gave me away. She knew me too well.

She let go of my hand to punch me in the arm, making me laugh. “You’re the asshole!”

I looked at her and the scowl was back. She was actually pissed!

“Why am
I
the asshole?” I muttered under my breath. “Tell me about the fight,” I said.

She crossed her arms over her chest and after a few seconds, finally spoke. “It was about you, actually.”

That surprised me. Their fights shouldn’t be about me ... until much, much later anyway.

“Oh yeah?”

“He knows … a little about our history. You know, that I’ve known you for a long time. He doesn’t feel comfortable knowing you’re my date for tonight’s event.”

I sucked my teeth. “So? You needed a date, and we’re friends. No big deal.”

You snooze, you lose. Schmuck.

She tried to pull her hand away, but I held on tight so she turned her head to face me again.

“He knows that we were more than just friends, Dre. He thinks me breaking up with him has to do with you, and now you’re coming with me tonight. He’s hurt.”

Well yeah, if I were him I wouldn’t let her go to any fancy schmancy event with another guy. Okay, maybe that’s a little drastic, but I would definitely have paid an arm and a leg to be her date.

But he wasn’t me, and I damn sure wasn’t going to share her with him. She was made for ME.

“I’m sorry you’re upset.” I pressed her hand to my lips and gave her a small peck. I wish I could pull over and kiss her senselessly and tell her what else I was sorry about, but we didn’t have time because we were already late. I’d be sure to make up for lost time later on tonight.

As we got closer to the hotel, I could see her movements from the corner of my eye. She was squirming in her seat and rubbing the inside of her palm along her knees.

“Nervous?” I asked and glanced over at her. Her long legs were crossed, her short dress revealing a whole lot of thigh.
Just focus on the road
. I turned my head and did just that.

“A little,” she admitted. “I just want to introduce myself and make a good impression.” She turned her head to look at me. “What if I stutter or say something utterly ridiculous? He’ll think I’m a fool.” She brought her thumb up to her mouth and started biting the pad of her skin.

“Peach, you’re the smartest girl I know. He’ll think you’re brilliant.” I glanced down at her thighs again. I couldn’t help it. They were
calling
me. “Besides, with that dress, he’d be a fool to think
anything
bad of you.”

She laughed and her eyes lit up. “He’s in his fifties and happily gay.”

“Oh, well good, that’s one guy I won’t have to fight off tonight.” That made me happy. She could talk to him as long as she wanted.

“Hmm,” she mused, her expression thoughtful.

“What?”

“Nothing.” With the way she pursed her sweet lips, I’d say it was more than nothing. I parked the car in front of the valet of the Loews Miami Beach Hotel and went around to her side.

“Ready?” I grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze.

She exhaled and smoothed down her dress. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

I held the door open for her as we walked into the eight hundred-room luxury hotel. The hotel design was art deco with a modern twist. We passed by a huge flower arrangement down the center of the lobby, and I noticed an aquarium wall on the right, next to a gift store called Splash. There was a mix of tourists in casual beachwear and plenty of people who came for Di Angelo’s event. The crowd thickened by the time we reached the entry to the private room. When we got to the front of the line, Peach reached into her purse and handed our tickets to a woman that looked like she had a stick up her ass. Clearly, she needed to get laid. A display of photographs was propped up on easels and tables on all sides of the room.

Peach pointed out to me an image with a bride underwater. “I love this one! It’s going to be on the cover of My American Wedding next month.”

How the bride didn’t drown in that big puffy dress baffled me, but I didn’t say anything out loud. Peach was wide-eyed in amazement and I wasn’t going to pop her bubble. I agreed with her and she pulled me to the next image.

It was a mother and son holding hands in Central Park.

“This one is going to be in Frommer’s Travel Guides,” she informed me.

I pointed at it. “New York must be an awesome place to photograph.”

She nodded seriously. “I know, amazing. You can take a picture
anywhere
and it’ll add to the photo.”

She looped her arm across mine and grabbed a glass of wine from a server’s tray before we continued walking.

“Within the frame of a lens, a snapshot holds a memory hostage,” Peach contemplated as we stopped in front of an old woman, overlooking the sunset on the Brooklyn Bridge. “It’s a memory to look back at and ponder: what was I doing? Who was I with? And how did I feel? They’re snippets of a story that haven’t been told.” Her face was pensive and lost in her own memories.

I lightly nudged her shoulder. “What memory are you thinking about now?”

She blinked the glassy look away and turned her head to me. “My mother.”

I held her hand in mine, and we walked to the next few images. My favorite so far was a picture of a married couple in a red ‘57 Chevy Bel Air — I loved the car, not the couple.

“You may have liked the car, but you’ll love the next section of images,” Peach mused, her eyes trailing down the program she held in her hand.

“Why’s that?” I asked.

She nodded her head toward one corner of the room, and I could see what she meant. A dozen or so naked or half-naked women stared back at me. All in black and white, but
damn,
these were some hot photos. All tastefully done and arranged in different poses. Women standing naked in a hotel room, some in lingerie lying on a bed, on the beach with just a bikini bottom. I stopped in front of a woman lying down on the floor with her right leg spread eagle and her left leg in front of her pussy. I couldn’t see a face — I couldn’t see anything other than long legs in high heels. It was sexy as shit. I imagined Savannah in that pose and immediately grew hard.

“You want to buy this one?” she teased me with a raised eyebrow. “Maybe he can cut you a deal.” She crossed her left arm on her stomach and rested her right arm on top as she took a sip from her wine glass.

I leaned down to whisper, “I want a picture of
you
in that position.”

She held the glass to her lips for two seconds. “Yeah right,” she said and took another sip.

I walked behind her and pressed myself against her back. “Does it seem like I’m lying?” I asked. She finally lowered her glass but didn’t turn around.

“That’s because of the pictures —
not
because of me.”

“You’re so frustrating.”

“You’re so dangerous.”

I took a step back, puzzled. “Dangerous?”

Her eyes lowered. “For my heart.”

I let out a breath of air and ran my hand through my hair.

“Can we talk?”

She tilted her head and glanced at me. “Now’s not the time, Dre.”

Glancing out the entrance of the room, I got an idea.

“I’ll be right back.”

Her eyes widened, and I kissed her forehead before walking out of the room.

When I made my way back from the lobby, I placed my drink down at an empty cocktail table and watched her.

She was on her second glass of wine and standing in front of the same sexy photograph we had seen earlier, but now she was talking to some asshole. A tall, young, clearly not happily gay guy, and it was irritating to watch. How long had he been trying to weasel his way in? He probably thought he’d be getting lucky tonight. He was eyeballing her in that fucking short as shit dress. Why wasn’t she wearing my jacket? I should’ve given it to her before I walked away.
I leave her out of my sight for five minutes and already the vultures are swooping in, waiting to attack
. He whispered something to her and she tilted her head back and laughed.
Do you think he’s funny, Peach?
She was eating up whatever crap he was feeding her! She was a smart girl. She had more common sense than to listen to whatever panty dropping lines he was feeding her.
Right?
I took another sip of my drink and ran my finger over the rim of the glass.

“Well, aren’t you Mr. Tall, Handsome, and Brooding.” I heard a female voice say next to me.

I looked down to see a short, skinny chick in a sparkly red dress. The front was low enough that I could see the curve of her tits. She glanced down to follow my eyes and smirked.

“Eyes up here, handsome,” she said.

Then why are you wearing that dress
?

When I looked back at Peach, our eyes met. She looked almost … disappointed?
In what?

“There’s a sushi bar here. We can go and have a drink if you want?” Red Dress explained.

My eyes were still on Peach, and when I saw the guy reach up to tug on one of Peach’s curls, my blood went into overdrive. I crumpled a cocktail napkin in my hand. I’d had just about enough of this loser.

I finished off the rest of my drink and set the glass and napkin down.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I have other plans.” I walked right up to Peach, placed my hand on her waist and leaned in to kiss her shoulder.

“Walk with me?” I asked, looking down at her.

The guy narrowed his eyes on my hands but then handed her a business card. “Let me know, gorgeous,” he said before he turned to leave.

“Let him know
what
exactly?” I asked her and squeezed her waist lightly. A waitress came by with a tray, and Peach placed her empty glass on top.

“He helps Mr. Di Angelo scout for models.” She smiled shyly and put the card in her purse.

“Well, aren’t you friendly,” I told her, annoyed.

She turned her head slightly to look back at the photograph. “What is it, Dre? You don’t want me, but no one else can have me either?”

What?
She couldn’t possibly be serious about me not wanting her. I wanted her with every fiber of my being.

I ran my tongue along my bottom lip and grabbed her hand. “Come with me,” I said and held out my hand for her to grab.

“Go where?” she asked, warily. I wasn’t going to let her go without a fight. I reached my hand up and traced her cheek with the back of my hand, pausing in front of her lips. Her breathing faltered and she walked past me.

I placed my hand on the small of her back, and we walked into the lobby and toward the elevators.

I reached for her hand and brushed it over the front of my pants. “So does it feel like I don’t want you?”