There's Something About Her, A Manhattan Love Story (17 page)

“Very soon.”

I swat his hands off my ass.

“Feisty.” He smirks.

I shake my head. “Don’t grab my ass again. Got it?”

He lifts his hands. “Probably.”
 

I roll my eyes, disappointed with myself for not being the least bit repulsed.
 

“So what’s happening between you and Vince?”
 

I wasn’t expecting him to just come out and say it. “Nothing.” I sound a little too high.

“He’s already told me he fucked you.” He snorts. “Except he called it making love. Do you feel he made love to you, Maggie?”
 

I eye him suspiciously. “We did some of that.”

“Oh, so she speaks the truth. ‘We did some of that’ is a far cry from nothing.”

I roll my eyes. “What do you want?” I’m tired of playing his game.

There go his hands on my ass again, except this time they’re joined by a swollen penis. “I want you.”

“You can’t have me. What next?”

“I want you.”

“Aren’t you getting a divorce?”

“And Vince is getting married. I’m free. He’s not.”

“Maybe your wife is leaving you because you’re a jackass,” I say.

“I think you want me. You have a snappy little mouth. You would’ve told me to back off by now if you didn’t like me squeezing your beautiful ass.”

“Robert, I wouldn’t fuck you with a ten-foot pole.”

“What about a ten-inch pole?” He stares at me naughtily.

Robert is dark and dangerous and bad as hell. I feel his ten-inch pole hard against my pubic bone. If I hadn’t already made my love nest with Vincent, I would’ve fallen for
this
hook, line, and sinker.
 

“I’d rather take the ten-foot pole,” I snarl, flashing teeth.

He tosses his head and laughs. “Why didn’t you just say something to me back in high school?”

“Why didn’t you say something to me?”

“I was intimidated.”

“You’re good at playing mind games.”

“I
was
intimidated,” he insists.
 

I’m stunned into silence. My lips are parted just enough for Robert to slip his tongue into my mouth. I can feel and taste the difference between this kiss and the last one I had.
 

I pull away first. “Could you take these back inside?”
 

I give him the shoes, and he takes them by the string. Once they’re out of my possession, I thank my lucky stars that the guy behind the cashier’s desk was too busy to ask for an ID. I run away from Robert’s hypnotic eyes, warm mouth, and ten-inch pleasure pole as fast as I can.

Chapter 13

While He’s Away

I rest on Saturday. Vincent and I spent a lot of time in bed last week, but we didn’t sleep much. Relaxing is easy since I’m girlfriendless. Monroe couldn’t fly back for the weekend like she’d intended because she’s in the middle of a bidding war for her mother’s biography to be made into a movie. Cleo and her boyfriend, Perry, drove out to the Catskills for the day, and Hannah has a third date with the guy she caught with that hair flip at Grey Smoke two weeks ago.
 

I’m re-energized by Sunday evening. I spark up my computer to work on some new projects, and the in-network message alert dings. My stomach turns flips. A dialog box that says, “Vincent Adams Would Like to Video Chat” pops up on the screen. I take a moment to ponder whether I should accept or not.
 

“All right,” I whisper and click “Accept.”

After two seconds, Vincent’s gorgeous and smiling face populates my screen.
 

“Maggie! I thought you were a workaholic?”

“I am.” Jeez, I’m cheesing like a Cheshire cat.
 

“You haven’t been on your computer since Friday evening. I was beginning to worry.”

He’s been checking on me. “I slept through yesterday and half of today. I had a long week.”

“Happy I could oblige.” He grins suggestively. He’s so my type with his alluring green bedroom eyes, chiseled bone structure, and five o’clock shadow.

“How’s your trip?” I ask.
 

“It’s fine. How’s Robert behaving?”
 

I reply by rolling my eyes.
 

“Did he hit on you?” Vincent’s entire expression turns sour.

“Don’t worry. I can handle Robert. You just enjoy your trip with your lovely fiancée.”
 

His smile fades. “Maggie, give me some time to figure this out. I love you.”
 

I want to kiss him through the screen.
 

“Let’s have dinner when I’m back. I’ll cook for you. What’s your favorite meal? Pepperoni and sausage pizza?” he asks.

I toss my head back to laugh. “Thanks to you!”

“I aim to please.”

I want to walk through the computer screen and be with him in every sexual way possible. Vincent has become an addiction.
 

“When are you returning?” I finally ask.

“Next Thursday.”

I frown. “I’ll be in Aspen. End of March Powder kicks off on Friday night. Linda, Keith, Tobey, Jessica, and I are flying out on Tuesday.”

“Keith?” he barks.

“Before you go psycho jealous, I’ve already turned him down at the polo event. He and I are never going to happen, so save your explosion, brother.”

He laughs. “Oh, I’m saving it.”

I shake my head. “Don’t you have some boring pre-wedding dinner or something to attend?”

“Nope. I don’t do boring pre-wedding shit.”

“So you just want to talk to me about nothing at all?”

“Yep.”
 

I snicker.
 

“Oh, I got a call from Jack,” he says.

“Was it regarding a new travel magazine for Daisy?”

“Exactly. Did he talk to you about it already?”

“He mentioned it at the hospital the other night.”

“Does he know about you and me?”

“It’s hard to hide much from Jack.”

He looks troubled. “Shit.”
 

“Don’t worry. Jack is…” I pause to come up with the right word. “Different. He understands how complicated things can be. He just told me to be careful. But if you break my heart, he’ll probably hunt you down and mount your head on his wall.”

Vincent lets out a hearty laugh. “To break your heart means I have it. Do I have your heart?”
 

I gulp. Do I admit it? What the hell... “Yes, you do.”

He sits back as if a load has been lifted off his shoulders. “You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to hear you say that.”

“Five days?” I wink.

“Twelve years.”

Even through the computer screen, I’m mesmerized by the power of his stare. This would be the part where we’d kiss and then make love.
 

“So what are you doing tonight?” he asks.

My pulse slows some. “I’m working.”

“Do you mind if I join you?”

“No, but where’s Gabrielle?”

“She’s at one of those boring pre-wedding parties you mentioned. I stayed behind.”

“Oh…”
 

We fall silent. This is so damn awkward. Are we a couple? Or are we a threesome? He’s not away on business. Vincent is on a pleasure trip with his fiancée. Meanwhile, he’s video chatting with his lover.
 

Even while aware of the line I have soared over, I reply, “Well, I guess I can run some details by you.”

“You can run by me whenever the feeling hits you.”

I laugh. “You sound like your crazy friend.”

Vincent grimaces again. “You mean Robert?”

Oh, shit, I shouldn’t have said that. “Yeah, he was just saying crazy stuff the other night.”

“What kind of crazy ‘stuff’?”

I shake my head. “I don’t remember what he said, only that it was crazy.”

“Try.” He waits for me to elaborate.

“No. Forget it. Let it go.”

“Why? How far did he get with you?”

“We didn’t have sex if that’s where your mind is going.” I sigh, figuring I should come clean. “He kissed me and grabbed my ass.”

Vincent has a blank face, like the calm before the storm. I can’t tell if he’s angry or hurt or something else.
 

He blinks slowly. “I’m going to call him.” His tone is eerily calm. “I love you.” He’s gone.
 

I’m trying to figure out what in the world just happened when my cell phone rings. It’s Cleo.
 

“Dinner at Musketeer in an hour.” She hangs up.

I sigh. What the hell is Vincent going to say to Robert? I kind of want to ping him back, but I’m anxious to see Cleo, whom I didn’t expect to hear from this weekend. I jump out of my seat, slide on a pair of red skinny pants, tuck in my multi-colored, striped button-front blouse, and put on a pair of red booties. I wrap up in my black puffer coat and walk to the West Village. The night is nippy, but instead of keeping my hands stuffed in my pocket, I call Jack to see how Daisy’s recovering.
 

“She’s better,” he says.
 

I detect the opposite in his tone. “Is she still working?”

He pauses. “No.”

“That’s what you wanted, right? So why do you sound solemn?”

He sighs. “We had an argument.”

“Eek. Was it bad?”

“It sure as hell wasn’t good.”

I step under the canvas of one of the hotels. I can’t talk and keep up with the speed of foot traffic.
 

“Hey, Jack?” I’m hesitant because I really want to talk to him about the sticky subject of him and Daisy.

“Spill it. What the hell’s on your mind?” He’s already touchy.
 

“Okay… So Daisy goes to Martha’s Vineyard, meets you, has sex with you, repeatedly, and ends up PG.”

“What the fuck is PG?”

“Pregnant.”

He blows an exasperated sigh in my ear. “We weren’t fighting about that.”

“Not directly!” I’m not going to let Jack steamroll me into keeping quiet. “Listen, Jack, wanting to be a mom isn’t fucking nature. It’s nurture and shit like that. She’s scared as hell, and you’re the last person to see it!”
 

“I see it,” he claims in a quiet voice.

I flinch, taken aback. “You do?”
 

He doesn’t reply.
 

“Hello?” I say to make sure he’s still there.

“I’m here. Shit, Mags, you’re right, and I don’t know what the fuck to say or do.”

I sigh, relieved that he gets it. “Daisy and I are a lot alike in that regard. If I were in her shoes, I would need you to understand and accept my feelings. She’s scared as hell to push that baby out of her uterus because she’s not sure whether or not she’ll love it even half as much as she loves you.”

“It’s a her,” Jack cuts in. “We had an ultrasound taken before we left the hospital. I think learning it was a girl made shit worse. She’s afraid of being like her mother.”

I lean against the wall. “I don’t know anything about what kind of mother Daisy had, but Daisy is a decent and loving person. As soon as that little girl takes her first breath, Daisy will love her way more than she loves you. That’s the hardwired part of it. For now, Daisy’s entitled to have some goddamn fears. So let her have them and stop trying to make shit normal. Let Daisy know it’s okay to be scared as hell. Because she
is
scared as hell.”
 

He falls silent again.
 

“Jack, are you there?”

“Yeah,” he whispers.

“I’m just saying, don’t try to make shit normal when it’s not. And don’t make shit too easy for her either. Be there for her, but let her be independent. Let her make the right decisions for the baby growing inside of her. Does that make sense?”

I hear him sigh and then more silence.
 

“It makes sense, Mags. Your advice is good as taken.”

“Good.” That’s one of the million things I love about Jack. He’s egoless and never rejects sound advice. Daisy’s lucky. I’m lucky. Even Charlie’s lucky to have him in his life.
 

“Why don’t you come out to spend a weekend with us in Martha’s Vineyard in two weeks? Daisy and I really like having you around.”
 

I smile so hard someone would think I’ve just won a hundred bucks on a scratch-off lottery ticket. “That’d be fantastic. Is that where you are now?”

“Not yet. We’re still in Manhattan, but Daisy says she can’t rest here. Hey, I have to go. Don’t forget to call my jetliner and schedule your flight for the trip to the Vineyard. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Good.”

“Love you, Jack.”

“I know, Mags. Love you too, kiddo.”

“I’m not a kid,” I remind him.

“You’ll always be one to me!” He hangs up before I can object.

“Whatever,” I mumble and step back onto the sidewalk to rejoin the footrace.
 

Musketeer is a new pop-up restaurant without a planned expiration date. In New York, the buzz and décor get us through the door, but the quality of the food and service keep us coming back. So far, Musketeer is surviving. We’ll keep coming as long as the chef keeps the doors open—and they could close on any given day. That’s the beautiful nature of the beast.
 

Once I’m inside, I give the hostess Cleo’s name. She immediately has me escorted by a young boy, who probably models in his spare time, to a table. The executive producer of the number-one daytime talk show rarely has to wait for a table in New York or L.A. as long as her assistant makes the reservation in advance.
 

Paper-mache lamps in every color hang over the tables. Every single table is occupied. There’s a line out the door. People are hanging out, sipping on cocktails and socializing as if nobody’s waiting for them to get their asses out of the chair and let someone else sit and enjoy a good meal. I can afford to be critical since it’s only going to be Cleo and me.
 

But as soon as I see the other faces seated at the table with Cleo, I realize there’s no way in the world I’m going to eat and run—not tonight! I do a happy dance and throw up my arms. It’s Monroe! She leaps out of her seat, and we give each other a knock-down, drag-out hug.

“You’re back!” I exclaim.