Plus One Page 16

  “Honey, you did it on his plane!”

  I’d texted that to her after we landed. I had to tell someone, and she seemed safer than my mom. My head bobs. “And in my childhood bedroom, and technically, it wasn’t sex, but also behind the barn…”

  “Stop. I’m already jealous.”

  “Oh, no, you’re not. I’m sure that in no time at all, you’ll snag some good-looking Englishman with a to-die-for accent.”

  “Technically, when I’m over there, they say I have the accent.” Her voice softens. “I’m only mildly jealous that you finally had mind-blowing sex. But what I really love is that you’re positively glowing.”

  “I just don’t know how to handle tomorrow at work. I mean, if I see him, I’ll probably trip. Oh, I know. I’ll drop something and end up on my knees in front of Duncan.”

  Shana’s laugh vibrates through our apartment. “Tell me. Did that happen?”

  “At Gaston’s… with you,” I remind her.

  “No.” Her forehead furrows as her smile grows. “Did you end up on your knees with him in Indiana?”

  My cheeks catch fire. “I’ve already said too much. I don’t kiss and tell.”

  “I know you kissed him. I know the sex was phenomenal. What I want to know is all the other gory details. Like… are the rumors true? Is he blessed? Is his junk blessed with length or girth? I myself have always been a girth girl, but if you can get both… Does he have both?”

  I shake my head. “Not kissing and telling.”

  “You kissed it!” She bounces on the end of the sofa. “You kissed his cannoli!”

  “I did,” I softly admit.

  “Oh. My. God. My little Kimbra has found her inner sex kitten.”

  “I did. I mean, with him, it isn’t hard.”

  Her nose scrunches. “It isn’t?”

  “Not like that! Yes, it’s hard and has length and girth and oh… sweet Jesus…”

  “I’m so glad you didn’t starve yourself this weekend. While your cousin ate wedding cake, you feasted on giant pastries.” Her eyes narrowed. “So what’s the problem?”

  “Did I say there’s a problem?”

  “No, but I get this feeling you’re worried about too much sugar.”

  “The opposite. I’m worried I’ll become addicted to the pastry. Hell, I am already. And he laid it on the line. He doesn’t do relationships.”

  Shana’s eyes narrow. “What is a boyfriend and girlfriend?”

  “That’s what I don’t know. He said he doesn’t do forever. He can only promise right now.”

  “So he’s honest. How many times have men promised forever and bugged down the road? Besides, the last I heard you didn’t want kids, a white picket fence, or any of those things, either.”

  “I didn’t. I don’t… but that doesn’t mean ever.”

  “Then enjoy Duncan while you can.” Her expression turns serious. “Can you do that? Isn’t some months or years of that radiant glowing smile on your face better than none?”

  “I guess. And like I said, if we date—like, really date—for even a little while, it wouldn’t be like I lied to my family.”

  “Right.”

  “Oh,” I say, remembering my brother’s announcement. “Kevin’s wife is pregnant.”

  “Susan? Really? That’s great. Now that will take the pressure off you. Your mom will get grandchildren and everyone will be happy.”

  “I think I am.”

  “No, honey, you definitely are. That smile says you’re happy. The only one stopping you is you. That man who left this place is head over heels. It’s written all over his face. I was worried about leaving you, but damn, you won’t even know I’m gone.”

  My smile turns upside down. “I will. I miss you already.”

  “Then let’s order some real pizza. They don’t have real New York pizza in London. And open a bottle of wine and while we watch some sappy movie, you can tell me how much better Duncan is in bed than the guy in the film.”

  I rack my brain trying to think of any movie star who would be better than Duncan. Their faces and credits pale in comparison. I come up blank.

  MY MOM LEANS across the booth of the little pub in SoHo where I met her. It’s one of our favorite spots. When I left for college, she insisted that I meet her once a week. In college, we had Monday nights off from football practice.

  Monday night dates became our thing. Over ten years later, we’re still doing it.

  The night she stood me up at Gaston’s, she was sick. Last week, she still wasn’t one hundred percent, so I went to her and my dad’s house for dinner. Now, as I gaze across the table, it’s good to see the spirit in her eyes and to see for myself that she’s finally feeling better. As much as I didn’t want to leave Kimbra. I wanted to keep this date.

  My mom has always been a cool mom. That doesn’t mean she hasn’t gotten upset with my brother Trevor or me. The best part about her is when she’s mad, you know it. And when the issue is resolved, it’s over. Her bark is far worse than her bite.

  Even in her late fifties, she still works. She’s cut it back to four days a week, but I can’t convince her to stop. She doesn’t need the money. Dad’s still working, and more than once, I’ve offered to subsidize her income. She only laughs, telling me it isn’t the money she loves: it’s her work. It has to do with helping children’s reading comprehension. Maybe that’s why she’s put up with Trevor’s and my different issues. She’s patient.

  Mom lowers her voice as she looks directly at me. “Are you going to tell me about your weekend?”

  I realize that not every thirty-three-year-old speaks as honestly as I do with my mom, but ever since Tessa, Mom and Mike have been my conscience. It’s not like they’re little Jiminy Crickets, but more like accountability partners. I did the counseling thing for a few years, mostly at Mom’s insistence, but in the long run, Mom and Mike have taken over that role.

  There isn’t much about me that they don’t know. I don’t sugarcoat it. I even told my mom how Kimbra got me to go to Indiana—or how Kimbra thought she tricked me into being a plus-one. Though my mom wasn’t happy with my behavior, she was more than a little impressed with Kimbra’s spunk.

  I take a sip of my coffee and grin over the rim. Without even speaking, my mom’s features soften. She leans back in her chair as her eyes, the same color as mine, sparkle and little lines form in the corners.

  “Duncan. Tell me that this is something… not your normal…”

  I put my cup down. “My normal? Mom, you’re mean.”

  “When do I get to meet her?”

  Other than formal occasions when it is appropriate to have a beautiful woman on my arm, I rarely if ever introduce dates to my family. But after this past weekend, I imagine taking Kimbra to my parents’ home and sitting with her and Trevor out to dinner. I shake my head. “I don’t know. Maybe instead, I need intervention.”

  “Intervention? Tell me, what do you need to be saved from?”

  “I can’t even describe it. I wouldn’t call this instant anything. It’s been like a slow burn. You know, like that elusive honor. The prize you see on the top shelf of a kids’ pizza place, like Chuck E. Cheese? The one you want, the one you work and work to achieve, saving your tickets until it can be yours.

  “You could just go buy a similar one, but it wouldn’t be the same. That’s what Kimbra has been. She’s been that prize, for three years, the unobtainable trophy.” I shrug, being totally honest. “You as well as everyone else know I’ve bought substitutes. Not in the conventional sense.”

  I look Mom in the eye. “You don’t have to add prostitutes to your list of my transgressions. I mean, bought women with gifts and dinners and shit. But none of them compare.

  “The thing is,” I go on, “I expected that once I achieved the coveted trophy, I’d be satisfied. I figured once I got a taste, it would ease my want. I mean, the hunt is the best part.”

  “And?”

  “And I’m not satisfied. The desire hasn’
t eased; it’s intensified. It’s like I can’t get enough. I want that prize in my penthouse, on my arm, and tucked beside me at night.”

  Mom’s eyes open wide. “As in your bed?”

  My mother knows the truth. I have sex with women, a lot of women, but I don’t sleep with them. I haven’t. It’s my hard limit. I rarely invite anyone to my penthouse, but if I do, I provide a ride home before the night is done. Hotels are easy. I can leave. The same with women’s places.

  Duncan Willis doesn’t sleep with women.

  I shrug. “We stayed at her parents’. Her family is hilarious. You and Dad would love them. Her dad and brother are farmers, which I learned is much more complicated than I ever imagined. Her mom and grandma had me laughing all weekend.”

  “And?”

  “We stayed in her room, together. Her mom’s idea. And it was nice.”

  Mom shakes her head and scrunches her nose. “Now if you were one of my students, I’d ask you to describe nice, because I imagine you could come up with a better description.”

  The waiter arrives with our order. As he places the plates before us, I remember falling asleep with Kimbra’s body against mine, the scent of her hair, and taste of her lips. I recall waking to the sound of her breathing. Once the waiter is gone, I look back at Mom. She isn’t looking at her meal, but at me.

  “And,” I admit, “it was everything. Everything I’ve never wanted.”

  Mom clenches her hands at her chest. “Duncan Willis, I’d given up hope that I’d ever hear those words out of your mouth.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  “Don’t screw this up.”

  I laugh. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “No, dear. I have the utmost confidence in you. When it comes to women, you’re the best at attaining that prize. Now, convince her that she’s more than that.”

  I lower the fork I’ve just lifted. “She is, Mom. She really is.”

  “Then use that ability you have to get what you want in a new way.”

  “A new way?”

  “Use it to keep what you want.” Her expression becomes serious. “As long as that’s what she wants too. Is it?”

  “I hope so.”

  IT’S AFTER SEVEN by the time I walk my mom to her car.

  I can’t get her words out of my head. Use it to keep what you want. As the weekend’s memories replay in my mind, I recall the bouquet I’d arranged to have in the plane. We’d left it on the plane.

  Did that mean that she didn’t want it? Was earning the flowers all she wanted or was it just to fool her family?

  As the questions swirl and I make my way to my car, I notice the street vender, closing up shop. Rushing across the street, I hurry his direction.

  “How much for your flowers?”

  “Which ones?”

  I scan his selection. “All of them.”

  DING!

  I sigh as I turn toward Shana. With her half-filled glass of wine sitting on the end table, she’s asleep at the other end of the couch. Apparently, wine, pizza, and hanging out at airports waiting for her flight has taken its toll.

  The doorbell rings again but she doesn’t budge.

  I shake my head and walk toward the door, wondering who would be coming to our place at almost nine at night. From habit, I peek out the small domed peephole. All I can see are flowers.

  Cautiously, I lock the chain and open the door only as wide as it allows. “Hello?”

  A single rose comes forward. “Another flower for our bouquet.”

  The deep voice reverberates through me as I look down at the familiar, worn brown loafers and blue jeans.

  “Duncan?” I say, closing the door, unlocking the chain, and opening the door again. “Shhh.” I motion toward Shana and lead him toward our kitchen. Once there, I whisper, “Why are you here?”

  His sexy, casual smirk melts my heart as much as my panties.

  “We left our flowers on the plane,” he says, peering around the large bouquet in his hands. “And after four days of earning flowers, including our first flight… and your induction… the walk in the woods… Grandma Helen… I didn’t want you to forget.”

  I lean close and kiss his cheek. “I don’t think forgetting is possible. Walking, on the other hand…”

  “Oh, beautiful, I’d like to help you be too sore to walk.”

  I lift myself up on my tiptoes to a high cupboard above the refrigerator and find a vase. After another look at how many flowers Duncan is holding, I bring down two. As I fill them with water, and Duncan hands me the flowers, I think how nice it is to have him with me, doing something casual like arranging flowers.

  Once they’re set, one vase on the table and the other on the counter, he reaches for my hand. “I have a confession.”

  “You do?”

  “This is new to me.”

  I shake my head. “I doubt that being in a woman’s apartment is new to you.”

  He tilts his head toward the living room where Shana is sleeping. “Can we talk, somewhere else?”

  “Talk? What about that promise of soreness?”

  His grin brightens. “Oh, that too, but first talk.”

  I nod and take his large hand in mine as I lead him to my room. Across the hall Shana’s door is open and the room is empty except for a few suitcases. Duncan raises a brow.

  “Yeah, Saks has already shipped her stuff. She was supposed to be in London, but there’s a storm. So, until her flight, the couch is her bed.”

  “You could let her sleep in your room.”

  I nodded. “I’d planned on that, but three-ways aren’t my thing.”

  “I don’t plan to share you with anyone, not even your roommate.” He looks around my room. “Ah, you can come home with me tonight. Let her have your bedroom.” He runs a knuckle tenderly over my cheek. “I’m going to miss having you beside me as I sleep. And I have this great big bed.”

  “With a pink canopy. You told me about it.”

  “Well… before we talk about that, consider my offer. I know we have work tomorrow. Bring clothes and give Shana the bed.” His hand lowers to my breasts. “And besides, it’s time to free your beautiful tits. I’ve officially volunteered as tribute to make that my job.”

  “Mr. Willis, your compassion knows no bounds. My roommate and my breasts. You’re too kind.”

  “I wasn’t thinking in that order.”

  “How was your date?”

  “It was nice. Maybe next Monday you can join us? But first, I thought maybe I could bring you the flowers and…” He wraps his arm around my waist. “…fuck, Kimbra. If you must hear me say it, I wanted a reason to come back to you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, the weekend, and the future.”

  Future?

  “Duncan…”

  He pulls me toward my bed and I land beside him. His cologne fills my senses with the spice and clean scent I grew accustomed to sleeping beside. I shake my head. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

  “What isn’t? My being here, holding your hand, talking to you… or more?”

  “I’m just not sure how tomorrow is supposed to work.” I shrug. “I didn’t know how the weekend would work and it was better than I ever imagined.”

  Duncan nods. “It was… better than I could have imagined and let me say, my imagination was working overtime.” He runs a finger along my jawline. “But the reality fucking blew it out of the water.”

  I fight the need to incline to his touch. “I can’t help but wonder if it would be easier if we stick with our original plan. Now that the weekend is over, we go back to the way it was.”

  He moves so close that if I inhale, my breasts will press against his hard chest. I look up to the sea of emerald green.

  “The way it was?” He asks as the tips of his fingers brush my arms, so soft I wonder if we touched at all. “Before I could touch you…” His face tips to the side, his warm cinnamon breath blows across my cheek, and then his firm lips skirt across mine. “Befor
e I could kiss you?”

  My insides tighten as my eyes flutter. “D-Duncan…”

  “Before we used first names, Miss Jones.” He leans back. “Tell me. Is that what you want?”

  “Yes… no,” I admit, closing the distance once again until my breasts push against his chest.

  This time his hand wraps in my hair as the kiss deepens, his tongue adding flavor and our bodies melding together. “I don’t either,” Duncan admits.

  “Fuck,” I sigh.

  He stands, pulling my hand until I’m upright and begins to tug me toward the hallway.

  “Wait! What are you doing?”

  His grin grows. “We need to get to my place. After all, you just said you want to fuck?”

  “No.” I slap his shoulder. “That wasn’t a verb or a request. It was… it was just… fuck. My mind is telling me to stop this now.”

  “Because stopping it would be easiest?”

  “Yes.”

  “Miss Jones, I recall someone telling me that easiest isn’t always best. I took that advice when I accepted the opportunity you presented to me to attend Scarlett’s wedding.” He caresses my cheek. “Getting to here… to now… to there being any kind of us. None of that was easy. But, oh, beautiful, it has been worth it.”

  “I don’t want to get hurt,” I admit, afraid I’m sounding like the needy kind of woman he distances himself from.

  He takes both my hands in his, lifts them to his full lips and kisses my knuckles. “Kimbra, the last thing I want to do is to hurt you. I don’t want to be hurt either. That’s why I was honest about what I can and can’t do. I can make limited promises and do my best not to let you down.

  “On Thursday, I said that I couldn’t guarantee the future, but I could be the best damn boyfriend you ever had for the weekend. Tell me, did I come close?”

  “Yes.”

  “Close?” he asks. “Or are you saying yes to coming?”

  I shake my head. “The thing is you’re right. I think it was being home. Scarlett’s wedding. Kevin and Susan’s announcement.”

  “What announcement?”

  My cheeks rise as my eyes radiate my genuine excitement. “They’re pregnant.”