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“Okay, off by one year. That’s not too bad.”
She smiled wide revealing perfect white teeth and full lips that made me wonder why she wasn’t the model. The reddish glints in her dark hair combined with her barely olive complexion made her look exotic. Men were always tripping over my roommate, but she wanted nothing to do with them. A lot like me, I thought. Until Ethan came along and upset my cozy existence.
“Let’s plan to go together—make a night of it. I want a new dress though. You wanna set up a shopping expedition too?” Gaby looked and sounded too damn excited for me to say no.
“Sounds excellent, Gab. I need some distractions from my suddenly more complicated life.” I tilted my head and mouthed the word, ‘Ethan.’
Gaby gave me the once-over and crossed her arms. “What happened with you two?”
“He wants a relationship. Like a real one where we sleep over and cook dinner and watch TV.”
“And lots and lots of
hot orgasmic sex,” Gaby added and then held out her arms to me. “Come here. You look like you need a hug.”
I went into her embrace and held on tightly to my friend. “I’m scared, Gab,” I whispered at her ear.
“I know, sweetie. But I’ve seen you with him. I’ve seen how he looks at you. Maybe this is the big one. You won’t know unless you try.” She touched my face. “I’m happy for you, and I think you’ve got to go with a little leap of faith here. So far Mr. Blackstone is on my good list. If that should change or if he hurts one smooth hair on your innocent head, then his pretty-boy balls are gonna be transformed into a set of Klik-Klaks. And please tell him I said that.”
“God, I love you, woman!” I laughed and headed off to class, thinking about how I would break the news to Ethan.
Three hours later he sent a text.
Ethan Blackstone: <---misses Brynne. When will I see u?
I smiled as I read the words. He missed me and he wasn’t afraid to say it. Ethan’s direct approach did wonders toward calming my nerves and fears about a relationship together, I must admit. I gathered my resolve and replied.
Brynne Bennett: <---is :) Very soon if ur not 2 busy. Can I come 2 ur office?
My phone lit up almost immediately with an emphatic YES along with instructions of where to go, elevator to take, plans to feed me lunch—typical modus operandi for my Ethan. That made me smile too. Did I just say my Ethan? I so did—I realized as I ducked into the Underground station and began descending stairs.
I wanted to stop at a pharmacy to get my new prescription filled along the way, so I hopped off the Tube two stations later. Heading back up to the street, I entered a Boots and dropped off the script. I grabbed a shopping basket and browsed while I waited for the pharmacist to fill it. An idea formed in my mind and I went with it, plucking items from the shelves and dropping them into my basket.
In the checkout line to pay, I noticed a big guy behind me waiting with his lone bottle of water. Well, I really noticed his tattoo. He had a beauty on the inside of his forearm—a perfect rendition of Jimi Hendrix’s signature, the big swirl of the J as clear as if Jimi had scrawled it himself. “Nice tat,” I said to him, noticing how really huge he was. At least six five, solid muscle, with spiked white-blonde hair and a face that exuded confidence—this was a guy you did not mess with.
“Thank you.” His nearly black eyes softened just a bit and he asked, “Are you a fan?”
His British accent soothed me for some reason, again totally at odds with his physical appearance. “Massive fan,” I answered with a smile before heading out to get back on the Tube.
I plugged into my iPod on the train. Might as well listen to some Jimi and think about what to tell Ethan when I saw him.
Blackstone Security was in Bishopsgate at the center of old London with all of the other modern skyscrapers. Somehow this was not a surprise to me as I tried to picture Ethan behind a desk—in a sexy suit—and smelling delicious. I exited the Tube at the Liverpool Street station and started walking up to street level. I stumbled on a crack in the concrete step and grasped for the handrail. My knees were spared but my shopping bag dumped out, contents scattering. I muttered a curse as I turned to bend down to retrieve everything and faced the same guy I’d seen in line at Boots with the Hendrix tat.
He efficiently helped me with my stuff and handed the bag to me. “Watch your step,” he said softly and continued on up the stairs.
“Thank you,” I called to his retreating back, muscles rippling under a black dress shirt. I’d barely made it out to the sidewalk when my phone started buzzing.
Ethan Blackstone: <--- is worried. Where r u?
Brynne Bennett: <--- is almost there. Patience!!!!
The marquee in the lobby listed Blackstone Security International on floors forty through forty-four, but Ethan had told me to find him on the forty-fourth. I walked up to security and gave my name. The guard smiled slightly and handed me a pen to sign in. “Mr. Blackstone is expecting you, Miss Bennett. If you’ll just step this way, I’ll create your badge so you may just scan through on future visits.”
“Oh…all right.” I let the man do his job and within minutes I was gliding up to the forty-fourth floor sporting my own Blackstone Security ID badge. My heart pounded a little faster the closer I got to my destination. I swallowed a few times and rearranged my black leather jacket. The black skirt and red boots paired with it were not slum wear by any stretch of the imagination, but I wasn’t dressed for a business office either. I felt suddenly self-conscious and hoped people didn’t stare at me. I hate that.
With my purse on my shoulder and my Boots shopping bag in my hand I stepped out of the elevator and walked into a very sleek and artfully designed space. There were black and white framed photographs of architectural wonders from all over the world on the walls, big glass windows looking out over the city, and a very pretty redhead behind the desk.
“Brynne Bennett here to see Mr. Blackstone.”
