Taming Blake (A New Adult Romance): The Complete Trilogy (36 page)

He led me to a table in the corner with a beat-up sofa facing it, small enough to cause my bare knee to touch against the rough denim of Josh’s pants as we sat down, and as it did so I felt my heart flutter, just a little.

Since I’d been at work that day, I was dressed for business. A white silk t-shirt and black blazer. But now I was here, sitting so close, I was glad that instead of trousers, I’d opted for a pair of cute little city shorts. I hoped that Josh could check out my legs in the dim light, and that he liked what he saw.

“I have to be honest,” he said, his handsome boyish face illuminated by the soft orange glow of a nearby candle, “I didn’t think I’d ever hear from you again. And after your disappearing act last time, I began to worry that maybe—”

“Don’t worry,” I interrupted. “I promise I’m not about to make a dash for the door this time. In fact …”

Am I really about to say this?

“What?” Josh asked, his brown eyes fixed intently on to mine as he waited for me to finish my sentence.

“Well,” I said hesitantly, trying again to summon the courage to say it, “I was hoping we might pick up things from where we left off.”

“And where
was
that exactly?” Josh said, a smile curling at the corners of his lips as he slowly realized just what I was getting at.

“Right about here …” I whispered, pressing my leg against his and turning into him, leaning forwards to plant a soft kiss on his lips.

The big night had finally arrived: the glamorous launch of Mermaids, and so far nobody had noticed Josh’s expert handiwork. The table was now exactly the size it was supposed to be, dividing the room in two with one strong, clean line, but still leaving plenty of room to walk around it. The whole place was totally heaving with curious patrons and food critics, and from my vantage point, tucked away by the double doors to the kitchens, I surveyed the whole scene, shaking my head with wonder at the fact that everything really was working out okay.

There were Max and Andy working the room, both dressed in flamboyant baby blue tuxedos to match the sumptuous furnishings, and over at the opposite side of the room, I caught sight of Blake, sipping from a Martini glass as he chatted happily to Elizabeth O’Connor.

I told myself I’d go over to him in a moment. We hadn’t spoken yet. By now, I was used to this kind of social event – surrounded by high society once again, I didn’t even feel intimidated. After all, they were all admiring
my
handiwork, weren’t they? So if it wasn’t a question of nerves, then why didn’t I just go straight up to Blake and ask him what he thought?

Well, a part of me felt somewhat guilty, I guess. And despite all my new resolutions about ‘just having fun’ I
did
feel weird about last night. I knew, as soon as I saw Josh again, that I wanted him. And when we’d started talking, I remembered how much I liked him, too. Being here alone last night with him just felt so natural.

I knew what was going to happen in that bar, too. In fact, I hadn’t even left it to chance and waited for him to make a move. I’d kissed him. But he hadn’t pulled away. If the bartender hadn’t called time, I wonder whether we’d still be there now, my hands in his hair, his arm around my waist.

And when we stepped back onto the freezing city street, the blast of cold air seemed to shock me back to my senses. A part of me just wouldn’t let things go any further with him, no matter how much I wanted them too. I was too confused. So with a final chaste kiss goodbye, I saw Josh off at the nearest subway, promising I’d be in touch again soon.

Did Blake ever feel that way, I wondered? How many other women was he falling for? Did he ever look at me and feel guilty that
he’d
been with another girl just last night?

No, of course not.

And I needed to be the same.

I’m young and single.

I can have a little fun …

I had nothing to feel guilty about. And I wanted to see Blake. I wanted to hear his thoughts about the restaurant. And of course, I wanted to say thank you in person to Elizabeth O’Connor, too. I’d sent her about a thousand gushing emails since I’d won the commission, but she was so busy that we hadn’t yet had a chance to actually meet.

I took a step out from the shadows, to make my way across the crowded restaurant to Blake and Elizabeth, when a face I really wasn’t expecting to see popped into view and my heart froze, mid-beat, as an all-too-familiar wave of anxiety washed over me.

Marianne.

I hoped beyond hope that I could somehow duck out of the way, or step back into my shadowly corner, but even as I was frantically scanning the bustling room for an escape route, she was making a beeline straight for me, dressed in one of her trademark Versace blouses, this time coral silk with enormous shoulder pads.

There was no way out; all I could do was steel myself to receive yet another dose of her venom. But to my surprise, as she approached her face began to soften, perhaps even breaking into … no it couldn’t be. Was that an actual
smile
?!

“No need to look so frightened,” she began when she reached me. “I don’t blame you. But don’t worry, I’m not about to cause another scene.”

I cast my mind back to the last time I’d seen her —slumped, dead drunk, in one of the toilet stalls at that charity fundraising ball.

She held up something and round and silver, which she jiggled at me: a circular key ring, with a triangle design etched into it.

Of course. Alcoholics Anonymous.

“Two months sober,” she whispered, shooting me a sly wink.

“That’s great!” I replied, honestly glad to see that she was doing something about her drinking. Based on the last few times I’d seen her, it had obviously become a real problem.

“Well there’s no denying it,” she continued, holding her palms out to me in a gesture of open honesty, “I was a total bitch, wasn’t I? Don’t worry. You can say it.”

“Well,” I began uneasily, still wary in case she suddenly reverted back to the old Marianne. “You were rather … difficult at times, I guess?”

“No, Jessica. I was a complete
nightmare
. I was vicious, controlling and mean,” Marianne corrected, her old venom returning for a half-second, only this time it wasn’t directed at me — it was directed at
herself
.

“This is step nine of the program, you understand,” she continued. “Make amends to the people you’ve harmed. And
you
were one of those people, I realize that now. And it wasn’t just because of the booze, either. It was that old green-eyed monster, too. You had real talent, I knew it all along. But I just wasn’t prepared to let you shine.”

I nodded, completely speechless. Never in a zillion years would I have expected to hear Marianne tell me anything other than how useless and stupid I was. And here she was actually admitting she was
jealous
of me? This was just too much to take in.

“You’ve made a fantastic job of this place,” she said, gesturing around the room then touching me gently on the shoulder, her eyes softening once again. “You should be really proud.”

“Thank you,” I croaked, still a little dumbstruck.

“I’ll leave you to enjoy your party,” she said, leaning in to plant a warm kiss on my cheek. “In fact, isn’t that Claudia VanDrysden over there? I’ve got something to say to
her
, too. It’s funny, but Step Nine seems to be taking me an awfully long time ...”

And with that she was gone, turning and making her way off into the bustling throng.

Well that was … unexpected.

As I watched Marianne walk off, for once steady on her Jimmy Choos, I felt the crowd melting away and for a moment – and I
know
how silly this sounds – but I felt like I was watching this whole thing on television, like everyone here was a member of some over-the-top, glitzy daytime soap opera. Because this world was really like nothing I’d ever imagined. Even now that I felt kind of at home in it, I was still shocked by the sheer opulence of it all: the money, the clothes, the splendor. And the thing about Blake was, I knew he could seem kind of like a fantasy guy, and I knew that he was a fantasy for many women – after all, I’d seen exactly what they said about him on the internet – but he was never
my
fantasy. Maybe I just didn’t have the imagination, but a guy like Blake wasn’t on my radar.

But I did have
one
fantasy. I’d always had it.

In this fantasy, I’m talented and successful and I have the admiration of my peers. And for all the hurt, all the pain that Marianne had caused me over the years, she’d accidentally just fulfilled it.

I smiled and took a deep breath, feeling my chest swell with genuine pride. Because that girl, that talented and successful woman, she didn’t need to
fantasize
about a man like Blake Matthews. She could just walk straight over to him, right now, and put her hand on his arm. And that’s exactly what I was going to do.

As I made my way over, he caught my eye and shook his head apologetically. “I’m so sorry,” he began, as he handed me a baby-blue Bellini (Mermaids’ new signature drink), “if I’d known Marianne was here, I would have had security remove her immediately. Let me do that for you now ...”

“No, no,” I replied. “There’s no need to do that. In fact, we’ve just had the most lovely little chat.”

Blake looked puzzled at my response, and while part of me wanted to tell him all about Marianne’s stint in AA, another part of me realized just what a brave thing that must have been for her, and I didn’t want to gossip, so I just left it at that. 

“This place is absolutely amazing, Jessica,” Elizabeth cut in, stepping across to give me a congratulatory squeeze. “I know Max and Andy’s tastes can be a little …
off the wall
at times, so to have transposed their essence to something so fun, so palatable, so universal, well, it’s a triumph! You should be really proud!”

“Thank you, Elizabeth,” I said. “That means a lot, coming from you. And thank you for the thousandth time for recommending me.”

After all the stress of last night, I could feel myself finally beginning to calm down a little — because it was actually going okay, wasn’t it? The launch night wasn’t a complete disaster! And sure, some of that was down to my design. But without Josh’s help, this whole thing would have been a mess …

Josh …

Again, I remembered the feel of his lips, so soft against my own, and that playful, boyish spark glinting in his eye as we’d laughed and joked, late into the night.

“It’s amazing, Jessica,” Blake added, softy, his low sonorous voice bringing me back to reality but at the same time causing me to melt once again. “I always knew you were good, and obviously I love the work you did in my apartment. But this place, well it couldn’t be more different. I didn’t know you were quite so versatile.”

Oh, Blake …

Who was I kidding? I was in a deeper mess than ever.

“Thank you,” I said, smiling shyly at him, afraid to meet his eye, in case … what? I fell for him any deeper?

I don’t think that’s even possible.

“Listen, Jessica,” Elizabeth continued, “I’m still interested in having you come take a look at my summerhouse in the Hamptons, see if you can work a little more of your magic on it. How’s your schedule looking?”

I still felt uncomfortable about having lied to Max and Andy, implying I was too busy to answer their initial email. This time round, I’d decided honest was definitely the best policy.

“Pretty clear,” I said truthfully. “I’d love to, Elizabeth.”

“Well, I’m still up to my eyeballs in work, so I’m afraid I can’t show you around myself. But why don’t I just give you the key and you can go down one day, take a look at the place on your own, see if you think you can do something interesting with it? It’d be a day’s work of course, so I’d be happy to pay your daily rate for a consultation?”

“That sounds awesome,” I replied.

“I’ve got a better idea,” Blake cut in. “It’s been too long since I’ve been to the Hamptons.  Why don’t I come down with you and we can make a whole weekend of it?”

With this last suggestion, he caused both Elizabeth and I to turn and look at him in surprise, as if we were both thinking the exact same thing: did we just hear
Blake Matthews
publicly suggest that he wanted to take a whole weekend away with me?!

“In fact, why don’t we go
this weekend
?” he continued, blissfully unaware. “I could drive us in the Ferrari …”

“Are you sure?” I murmured, a little taken aback, feeling myself blush, as I felt Elizabeth reassessing us curiously. “Just that I know you’re really busy at the moment and …”

“No, I’d love to,” he said decisively, smiling first at me, then at Elizabeth, obviously wanting her to know that there was definitely something
more
going on between us. “You’ll understand this, Elizabeth. Part of what makes me so good at my job is the ability to delegate. And what I need right now is a weekend away with someone as creative and talented as Jessica.”

Elizabeth beamed back approvingly, almost motherly, nodding to herself. “Oh Blake,” she said with a wistful smile, her eyes misting over a little. “Do you know, I don’t think I’ve seen you down in that neck of the woods in years. In that case, it’ll be quite a trip down memory lane for you, won’t it? I remember when you were just a teenager, you and Brett Carter, getting up to mischief!”

At this, Blake laughed and shook his head, a little embarrassed — that boyish streak I found so fascinating once more shining through, bright and strong as a ray of sunlight. 

“Didn’t you boys drink almost a whole bottle of Brett’s father’s bourbon?”

Blake laughed again, a soft blush rising to his cheeks now. “Don’t remind me!” he groaned. “His prize bottle of Perry Van Winkle, no less. I dread to think of the cost of the liquor we wasted that night. And then, once we were good and drunk, I think we managed to wake up practically the whole house by starting a tennis match at three in the morning.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of Blake being young and naive and reckless, just like any regular carefree teenager. But even as I was still giggling at the thought, I watched a darkness descend across his face, the smile quickly dropping from his lips and his eyes clouding over.

“Of course, that was the summer before Brett’s accident,” he said quietly, his somber tone slicing through the hectic chatter and hubbub of the restaurant like a knife.