Talk to Me (13 page)

out, it was clean and in good shape.

As he quickly washed, his gaze kept returning to the mirror. He'd left the bathroom door ajar and could see into the hal and a little bit of his

bedroom. He didn't hear any noise coming from the bedroom or the attached bath. Had Jamie fal en asleep already? He couldn't help but smile a

little—maybe he'd worn the little vixen out. Wouldn't that be something—the old guy tires out the hot young thing. She had to be almost ten years

younger than him.

He crept back to the door of his bedroom, and sure enough, Jamie was curled up on her side, sound asleep. Propping his shoulder on the door

frame, he watched her for a little while. In sleep she looked even younger, and he felt like a bit of a letch, but hey—it wasn't like he'd forced her to

have sex with him.

After the sex was over, he usual y hightailed it out of the woman's apartment, so he didn't know how tired they were. Maybe he exhausted al of

them. He doubted it, but it was a nice thought. A surge of masculine pride flowed through him, misguided as it may have been.

Leaving a light on in the hal way, he closed the door most of the way and climbed into bed. It had been a long time since he'd actual y slept with

a woman, but he had to admit—it felt real y good to spoon her soft, warm body. She moved a little in her sleep, snuggling back into his chest. He

snaked an arm around her waist and threw a leg over hers. He felt sleep claiming him and drifted off with a contented smile on his face.

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Jamie was the first to wake up. She glanced at the clock and saw it was just before noon. She never slept this late, but the extracurricular activity

from the night before must've had something to do with her unusual y late rising. She glanced over at Drew, who was stil dead to the world, one arm

over his head and the other holding her to him. She smiled a little at how peaceful he looked when he slept. A person would never guess there was

a sex demon inside that body, she mused. With his eyes closed and snuggled into the pil ow like he was, he almost looked angelic. She knew

better. More like a fal en angel.

She hadn't woken up at a man's house in quite a while, so she wasn't sure what the proper morning-after protocol was anymore. Should she

wake him? Maybe go ahead and start a pot of coffee? Did he even have coffee in the house? The questions were stil running through her head

when he raised his head, opening one eye. “Good morning.”

Jamie glanced at the clock. “Nearly afternoon,” she told him.

“Real y? Wow.” He sat up, stretching his neck from side to side. “I never sleep more than five or six hours at a time. I got used to sleeping on a

funky schedule while I was playing, and I guess I've kept up with it.” He rose, grabbed his robe off the floor, and shrugged into it. Jamie watched him,

puzzled.

Had she done something wrong? He'd left the bed so fast, she wondered if it was on fire and she hadn't noticed.

“Do you want some coffee? I don't drink it, but I think I have some grounds in the freezer. Or I could toast a bagel... Like I said last night, I don't

cook...” He wasn't looking at her—in fact, he was already halfway out the door.

Great. No awkwardness here
. She should've known what a mistake it would be to sleep with Drew. She had to see him every day, and if it was

always like this, she'd scream. He could hardly even look her in the eye. “Thanks, but I think I'l go home. I need a nice, long soak in the tub, and I've

got a few things to do before the show later.”

It certainly didn't look like he was going to beg her to stay, since he circled back to the nightstand and reached for the phone. “I'l cal you a cab.”

He pressed a button and started speaking into the phone. “Hey, Rick, it's Drew. Can you get a cab for me? It's for the woman who's coming

down. Yeah, she'l be right there. Thanks.”

Was he just going to pat her on the head and shove her out the door after what they'd shared? She began snatching up bits of her clothing.

She'd been unsure of what to do, but she certainly hadn't thought he'd jump out of bed and run. She stepped into her jeans and threw on her top, not

even bothering with her bra. She went to the living room to grab her purse and then stuffed her bra inside. Drew fol owed her silently.

“I guess I'l see you tonight,” she told him, avoiding any other kind of contact, especial y eye contact. No matter what, he would
not
see her cry

over him. She felt like such a fool.
What did I expect, for him to get down on his knees and beg me to stay? I can't believe I was so stupid to get

caught up in last night. It was obviously just another one-night stand to him.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him rub the back of his neck. “Yeah, tonight. See you then.”

He walked to the door and turned, placing a quick kiss on her forehead. Jamie fled the apartment as quickly as she could put one foot in front of

the other and jumped into the cab waiting by the curb. Al the way home, she berated herself for her behavior.

Why did I think I'd be different? I knew his reputation
. Hot tears streaked down her face. She swiped at them angrily, searching her bag for a

tissue as they continued to flow.
That's what you get for becoming involved with a guy like him. He's not a girlfriend guy. He's a player, in every

sense of the word
. She had no clue how she was going to face him in just a few short hours, but she was determined to play it cool, even if it kil ed

her.

When the cab pul ed up to her building, she leaned forward to read the meter. The cabbie turned around with a sympathetic eye. “It's al taken

care of, sweetie.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled, climbing out of the cab and dragging her weary, sore body into her apartment. She wondered if Drew had paid for the

cab. Maybe he had a cab company on retainer to drive his conquests home, she thought bitterly. She tossed her stuff on the bed and went to start a

hot bath, trying hard to ignore the empty feeling inside her.

The bunched muscles in her neck were just starting to relax when her cel phone rang. Looking at the cal er ID, she groaned. Of course. Alison.

Apparently Alison had been right. Jamie couldn't trust her own judgment—what she'd done last night proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Sighing heavily, she picked up the cal . “Hi, Alison.”

“About time you actual y answered the phone. I was considering cal ing into your radio show—I figured that might be the only way I'd actual y be

able to talk to you.”

“Sorry,” Jamie replied automatical y. It seemed like al she ever did was apologize to Alison, whether she meant it or not. It was easier that way.

“So what have you been doing that you're too busy to cal me back?”

“Wel , Drew wanted a new promo, so I had to figure out how to get al that done, and of course al that equipment is different too.” Jamie felt bad

about lying to her sister, but she wasn't keen on sharing her actual reasons with her. “Plus, I've been exploring the neighborhood a little, and Manhattan too.”

“Did you cal Chandra?”

“Not yet,” Jamie hedged.

“Cal her! I told her you would.”

“Why? I never gave you permission to make social plans for me. You know, despite what you think, you're not my mother.” Jamie knew she was

overreacting, but having a place to focus her anger and frustration, however misguided it might be in this case, felt good.

“We've been over this,” Alison continued, undeterred. “You need to get out and meet people. She can introduce you to some nice, successful

friends and col eagues of hers.”

“Just because I'm not a corporate drone doesn't mean I'm not successful, and it doesn't mean I can't meet nice, successful people on my own,

Alison.”

“I never said it did.”

Tipping her head back, she stared with narrowed eyes at the faint outline of a water mark on the ceiling. “You didn't have to. You implied it.

Look, this isn't a good time to talk,” Jamie replied. “I'l cal you in a few days.” She hung up before Alison could say anything in reply.

The conversation had done nothing to help Jamie's mood, and she feared any confrontation she had later with Drew would be even worse

because of it. At least she hadn't blurted out anything about her evening with Drew. That was al she needed—to give Alison more proof that Jamie

had shit for brains where men were concerned.

What the fuck just happened? Drew asked himself as he closed the door behind Jamie. It was like Jamie was a completely different person.

Gone was the sexy, smart, funny Jamie—she was replaced by a frowning, angry woman.
Did I do something wrong? I asked her if she wanted

some coffee or was hungry. That seems pretty considerate to me
. Obviously Jamie had expected something different, because as soon as the

words were out of his mouth, she'd turned cold as ice. When he'd realized she was going to be that way, he'd quickly covered his ass and said little

else.

But now what to do?
Should I apologize, even though I have no idea what I said or did to piss her off? Should I just let it slide, pretend

nothing happened? Really pretend nothing happened, and go back to the way things were before last night
? He hated this feeling of uncertainty.

This was why he didn't get personal y involved with women, and why he always went to their place and never stayed over.

He let out a vicious stream of obscenities, slamming his fist on the countertop so hard, the dishes rattled in the cupboards above. Sighing, he

went back into his bedroom, surveyed the damage they'd made last night, snorted in disgust, and went to take a shower.

To hell with her. What did she expect from me? She knew going into this I wasn't a relationship guy
. Though if he were being honest with

himself, having more than a brief fling with Jamie sounded pretty fucking good. He liked her, more than he cared to admit.

Thoroughly revolted with his train of thought, he quickly toweled off and got dressed. He decided to cal Jon to see if he wanted to grab a beer

and some lunch. They agreed to meet at a local sports bar. After sitting and ordering burgers and a couple of pints, Jon studied him.

“What?”

“You look like shit.”

Drew snorted. “Thanks, man. You real y know how to pump up a guy's ego.”

“The little lady stil got you al hot and bothered?”

“No, but that's the problem.”

Jon leaned forward. “You fucked her? When? Christ, that was fast.”

“Last night, after I talked to you, I went back inside when I realized I'd left my wal et in the studio.” When he saw Jon's shocked expression, he

nodded. Drew was known for being good with remembering al that stuff—it had been his responsibility when he was playing to make sure al the

guys had their room keys and wal ets before they went out on the town. “Yeah, that's how distracted I've been. Anyway, when I went up there, I, um...”

Drew paused. He found he didn't want to go into detail about what he'd found Jamie doing. It was private, and he was sure she'd be mortified if she

ever discovered he'd told Jon about it.

“You what?” Jon prompted, tapping the table with the pads of his fingers, obviously impatient to hear the sordid details.

“Jamie was stil up there, and I kissed her. Things got heated, and she came home with me. But then things turned sour this morning, and now

she's pissed at me, and I don't even know why, and for some reason, it's making me miserable. I hate this shit. This is why I don't do relationships.”

He took a long pul from his beer and sat back.

“Let me get this straight—she came home with you? And stayed the entire night?”

“Yeah, I know. Not my usual MO. But her apartment is way out in Brooklyn—my place was closer.”

“But you
never
let them come to your place.”

It irritated Drew that Jon lumped Jamie in with the other women Drew got involved with. She wasn't like them. Before he could say anything,

though, their food arrived. They ate for a while in silence.

“So what happened this morning that made her so pissed off at you, do you think?” Jon asked him.

“That's the thing,” Drew answered. “I honestly have no idea.”

“No idea? Seriously? Even you aren't that clueless. There must've been some sign.”

Drew shrugged, dragging a french fry through the ketchup on his plate before shoving it into his mouth. After washing it down with a swig of

beer, he replied, “We woke up. I got up to go to the bathroom—you know, take a leak, brush my teeth, whatever, and she freaked. I even offered to

make her coffee or a bagel, but she just wanted to leave, so I cal ed her a cab.”

“Just like that? You woke up, said a few words, she said a few words, and you cal ed her a cab? That's it?”

“That's it. See why I'm so confused?”

“Did you try to convince her to stay?”

“Why would I? It was pretty obvious she wanted to get the hel out of there.”

“Maybe that's just what she wanted you to think. Maybe she wanted you to make a big deal, you know,” Jon adopted a falsetto voice, “'Oh,

sweetie, don't go'—you know, that sort of shit.”

Drew shuddered. “Don't ever do that again.”

“You know what I mean.”

“If she wanted to stay, why didn't she just say that?”

“Because women are women, Drew. Who knows why they do anything?”

Drew shook his head. Maybe Jon was even more clueless about women than he was. He certainly wasn't helping Drew figure out what the hel

had gone on that morning or how to fix it, that was for damn sure.

They ate the rest of their lunch in companionable silence, watching a basebal game on the televisions that were scattered throughout the bar.