The Super: A Bad Boy Romance (4 page)

“Are you freaking kidding me? He’s coming over here. He must have caught you looking at him,” Jess says, checking her reflection in one of the distressed mirrors on the wall beside us.

“What? Shoot! Oh, my God. This is so embarrassing.”

“No, no. It’s not bad. It’s fine. It’s a good thing. You got his attention.”

I look over my shoulder to see my chosen Anderson brother make his way across the bar to us.

He looks even better up close. From just a few feet away, I can see that he has light, sparkling green eyes that I absolutely want to get lost in, and the scent of someone whose sheets I want to get tangled up in.

And his suit looks expensive in its cut and how it fits him. The skinny tie, the way he buttons the middle button on the three-button blazer that hugs his broad back. Everything just looks like money. I bet his boxers are more expensive than my whole outfit.

He is drop-dead, panty-meltingly hot.

“Excuse me, ladies. Are these seats taken?”

“Nope! Why don’t you sit down?” Jess answers with a spring in her voice. It’s like the words bounce out of her mouth and into the air. I want to grab them and shove them under the table. The
last
thing I need is some rich guy’s superficial attention distracting me from my work all weekend.

I jab Jess lightly in the ribs under the table. I hope the Anderson brother doesn’t see.

He pulls out the chair across from Jess and sits down like he owns the damn chair. He’s broad and tall, and even seated, he has an effortlessly larger-than-life way about him, like he needs to scold women for staring at him all the time.

I’m sure he catches women staring at him constantly.

“I was wondering where your boyfriends were, and I wanted to come over and keep you company until they came back.”

“No boyfriends here!”

Jess waves her arms in the air to punctuate her response.

“Oh? Well, where are they?” the Anderson brother looks around with a sarcastic, skeptical smirk on his face.

Damn, this guy is good.

“What I meant is that we don’t
have
boyfriends. They aren’t here or anywhere.”

“Well, they’re somewhere. You just haven’t met them yet.” His nimble fingers hold a cocktail straw, spearing the tip of his tongue through slightly parted lips.

Ugh
. This? This is what I’m dealing with?

“Sorry if you caught us looking at you. My friend and I didn’t mean to be rude,” I say. “But she knows who you are.”

“Oh? Your friend knows who I am?”

He shifts his gaze from me to Jess and then back to me.

“And do
you
know who I am?”

“I do now. You’re in real estate.”

The Anderson brother laughs, a bent, mischievous smile growing on his face.

“That might be true, but that’s not who I am. Hi.”

He puts out his hand to shake mine. His eyes lock onto me and don't move, not even to my hands, which seem to be glued to the table.

“I’m Drew Anderson. I won’t introduce myself to your friend, here, because she already knows who I am.” He looks over to Jess. “Don’t you?”

A little knot of nerves uncurls in my stomach, releasing itself into my body, flooding me with the adrenaline that can only come when a dangerously hot guy introduces himself.

When he takes his gaze off me it feels like a bandaid has been ripped off - painful for a second, and then soothed, like I know it has done its job.

“Yes, that’s correct. I do know who you are, Drew Anderson. And that’s your brother, right over there.” She gestures with her glass. “That’s Eric.”

“Correct. And since both of you know our names, would you care to share your names with me?”

“I’m Jess. And this is my best friend, Molly.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Jess and Molly.”

He rolls the bottom of his glass on the table, careful to not let his drink tip over the revolving edge. Every movement he makes is deliberate, measured and even. It’s excruciating to see his fingers roll along the edge of the glass.

“So, I take it that you really don’t have boyfriends? You can’t, because if you did, they’d be here with you right now. They’d be stupid not to.”

“Nope. No boyfriends. But don’t you have a girlfriend? Clarissa?”

“Ex. We just broke up today.”

“Aw. I’m sorry to hear that.”

There seems to be genuine concern in her voice, but from the way she’s kicking me under the table, I know she wants me to talk to him. Or do more than talk.

I was never one for a casual hookup, and I’m not sure I could entertain the possibility of dating some rich guy. Not my style. And besides, I don’t want someone aloof, someone born with a silver spoon in his mouth, someone who is used to having everything in life handed to him - a home, a girlfriend, money. I am sure this guy, judging from the way he talks and the way he dresses and the business he is in, is used to getting his way.

Not for me. I already know it.

“It’s okay. I already see someone who I like better.”

His eyes lock onto me again, but this time, instead of focusing just on my eyes, his gaze lingers on my chest, my face, my hands and arms. Everything. I’m sure that if I had been standing up, he would have even checked out my feet.

I’m right to not be interested. He’s a womanizer. Already over his ex, in one day? Ready to pick up another woman just a few hours later?

But I can’t help what he’s doing to me. His eyes yank on a little piece of my insides. He’s so hot, and just my type physically. I would love to see him out in the light of day, without the thumping bass from the music and the blue and red lights of the club. Maybe he’s absolutely hideous in the daylight.

“I was about to leave.” I stretch my arms in the air and let out a fake yawn. “I have to be up early tomorrow.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“New job on Monday. Need to get some work done this weekend to prepare for it.”

“Oh, Molly, don’t go. The night was just starting!” Jess whines.

“Yeah, Molly. Stay with us. I promise I’ll get you home in time to work tomorrow. I’ll have you back at your house by eight tomorrow morning.” He spears an ice cube between his front teeth, teasing it with his tongue. “Even if I keep you up all night.”

My mouth pops open in shock and a pool of heat grows deep inside my core. Why does he have to be so hot? And charming? It’s like he knows just what to say to get me riled up inside, and if anyone else had said those things to me, I might have considered letting him buy me a drink.

It’s been long enough since I’ve had this kind of attention from a guy. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever had someone talk to me with language so dripping with innuendo in a public place before.

“That’s fine. I’ve got to go.”

I stand up and put my trench coat, slumped on the bench next to me, over my shoulders and onto my arms. It’s mid-May, but the weather means that most of the city is still wearing a coat. Jess isn’t wearing a coat tonight. Out of principle, she claimed. No one should have to wear a coat in May. But principle isn’t going to keep her warm. And anyway, I suspect she didn’t want to wear a coat because she didn’t want to cover up her tight dress.

“I’m sorry you have to go, Molly. I was hoping to get to know you better.”

This jackass leans down to whisper in my ear.

“I think you’d like spending time with me. I could show you a thing or two. Things you’ve never seen. Things you’d be begging for if I stopped.”

I pull away from him, even though I feel I could fall into his arms at any second. My insides are fluttering with excitement as his mouth breathes his words into my ear.

It’s too bad that this guy is
so
not for me.

“Well, maybe another time. Sorry. Jess, you can stay here if you’d like.”

“No, it’s okay. I’d better get home, myself. Long week at the office.”

“What do you do, Jess?”

“I work at a law firm.” She puts a hand on her hip. “I’m a paralegal.”

“I’m relieved. For a second I thought you were going to say you’re an attorney.”

“Relieved?”

“Yeah. I’m up to my eyeballs in attorneys right now.”

“Yeah. The lawsuit. Good luck with that,” I say, incredulously.

“Thank you very much, Molly. But I don’t need luck with that.” His green eyes penetrate mine. He must have picked up on my hint of sarcasm. “I have the best attorneys in the state working on the case.”

“Well, then, good luck with your fiancee.”

“Don’t need luck with that, either.”

“Then it seems like you have absolutely everything in order. You have everything figured out.”

“Not quite. I mean, I couldn’t get you to stay out tonight. Even with my promise of what I could give you.”

God, he really is something else. I can’t take it. It must be some mistake. Why isn’t he talking to Jess, teasing Jess like this?

Maybe he’s using reverse psychology on me. Yes. I read about that in a book once. Or maybe it was on TV. Maybe it was really Jess who he was interested in.

But right in this moment, it feels like I’m the only one in the world he really wants to talk to.

I swing the strap of my Longchamp tote bag over my shoulder. It’s heavy and I take care not to smack Drew with it, but maybe I should have let it just hit him.

“Good night. It was nice to meet you.”

I put my hand out in a professional gesture to say goodbye to him. I’ve done it so many times today - it feels like the natural thing to do.

“It was nice to meet you, too. Maybe I’ll see you here another time.”

His hand is soft and smooth, but firm, and his thumb slips over the inside of my wrist just for a split second as he pulls his hand away. I observe his face, studying it, as he says goodbye. His lip are full and soft, and I struggle to find some flaw so I can tell myself that I don’t like the way he looks.

“Very nice to meet you,” Jess says, waving goodbye to him and scooting out from the booth behind me as I make my way from the table.

I don’t look back. I want to, but I don’t. I squeeze my way through the crowd of people, women and men towering over me. The women, because they are all wearing heels, and the men, just because they are men.

No one can hear me say
excuse me
over the loud music. I don’t think anyone would have been listening to me, anyway.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Jess rubs her arms and shoulders briskly as we step outside.

“Here. Take my coat. I have my sweater.”

“Thank you.”

I think Jess figures that since we’re leaving anyway, it’s okay to cover herself up. It isn’t like she is going to meet her new boyfriend as we are leaving the club, or back in Brooklyn.

“Let’s get a cab.”

I’ve recently moved out of my parents’ house - finally, at 25, I’ve done it. I just received my Master’s in Journalism, I have my first paid job, and, accordingly, it was high time for me to have my first apartment.

It isn’t like how it looks in the movies. Rent in New York City is ridiculously expensive. Sure, I’ve had internships. Awesome internships. I interned at a huge weekly news magazine, I interned in the public relations department at a university downtown when I was still figuring out what to narrow my focus on. But the internships, if they even paid at all, paid a paltry amount - it was a stipend, really, just meant to cover a metrocard, a sandwich, and a cup of coffee, if you were lucky. It wasn’t enough to cover the cost of rent, and it certainly wasn’t enough to build up any savings.

So now, at 25, I’ve just moved out of my parents’ house and into a small apartment of my own. It isn’t amazing, but it is pretty nice, and I can afford it on my own. That is the part I like the most.

Jess moved out of her parents’ place right after college. She was always a little bit more corporate than I was. She got a good job right away.

Our apartments are just a few blocks away from each other, so on nights like this one, we often split a cab.

“Can you please explain to me why you didn’t jump at the chance to have Drew Anderson buy you a drink?”

“I already had a drink. I had already had two drinks, if we’re counting.”

“And clearly, you were counting.”

“
Why
would I want this Drew Arrington character buying me a drink? I’m not interested in dating some rich asshole.”

“It’s Anderson. And I wasn’t saying you should date him.”

“So you agree that he’s an asshole.”

“No. I didn’t say that.”

“You implied it.”

“Look. All I’m saying is that he clearly liked you, and he just broke up with his girlfriend, and from what I could see, he actually seemed like a decent guy.”

I don’t want to tell her the real problem - I was
too
attracted to him. That I
did
want him to buy me a drink. That the smell of his cologne and the touch of his hand drove me crazy. That I didn’t have time to stay out all night, and that if I started by letting him buy me a drink, that I would certainly have ended up staying out all night - or even gone home with him and let him show me whatever those things were that he wanted to show me.