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“Are you okay?”
“Sure. Why do you ask?”
“Because you just gulped about eight ounces of water in three seconds.”
“Oh.” I set the water glass down. Then I smiled. “It’s hot. I was thirsty.”
Braxton nodded, looking unconvinced. “I see. You want to get out of here?”
I practically jumped out of my chair. “Yes, I would like to get out of here.”
As Braxton escorted me out the doors of the swank Italian eatery, I tried to avoid glancing back one more time. I failed.
I knew that Dominic Esposito had the right to eat out anywhere he pleased. He also had the right to go out with whomever he chose, even the platinum-haired lingerie model who was sitting very closely beside him at Casa Rienti. The two of them were accompanied by another couple, and I recognized the man. It was Jason, Dominic’s friend. I remembered thinking at the time that his absurd good looks would have caught my attention if I hadn’t been so distracted by the presence of my boss.
Braxton was holding the door open for me, so I had no choice but to walk through it. It was actually kind of a relief because I’d be spared another glimpse of Dominic and his big-breasted plaything. Even so, I wondered who she was. Tara had once laughingly declared that Dominic Esposito never had time for relationships. In fact she was convinced he slept curled up on the floor beside the brick ovens at the pizzeria. Judging by how affectionate Dominic and his date appeared, it seemed Tara was wrong.
“You sure you’re okay?” Braxton asked once we were outside. He was looking at me a little oddly.
“Yup,” I said and forced a grin before we headed to his car.
Even before we entered the crowded club, I regretted coming. This had never been my scene, not even in college. Braxton continued to be Mr.Super Nice Guy and introduced me to the club’s owner, who was an old frat brother of his. Since it seemed like the two of them wanted to talk for a few minutes, I excused myself to go to the ladies’ room. I closed myself in a stall and just hung out for a few minutes, trying to sort out my thoughts, which were still in disarray over the Dominic sighting. I had no good reason to be disturbed by the sight of him out on a date. Hell, I was sort of on a date myself. If he wanted to let some chick rub her nipples all over him, then I had nothing to say about it.
I frowned, flushed the unused toilet, washed my hands, and left a tip for the attendant.
“There you are,” Braxton greeted me as I made my way back to the noisy bar. His friend was nowhere in sight. Braxton leaned close to my ear, draped his arm around my shoulder. “Let’s head upstairs. There’s a VIP lounge. It’ll be much quieter.”
I didn’t want to go upstairs. Braxton was okay, but there wasn’t going to be a romantic connection between us, and all the VIP lounges in the world couldn’t change my mind about that.
“Actually,” I said, “I’m not feeling so great. You think you could take me home?”
Braxton’s brilliant white smile wavered a little, but he nodded. “Sure. We’re out of here.”
Twenty minutes later I changed my mind about Braxton being a nice guy when he tried to inhale my tonsils in front of my apartment. I told him he didn’t have to walk me to the door, but he insisted, saying he considered it good manners. I’d turned to him, expecting a handshake or maybe a chaste hug, but he grabbed my face and shoved his rubbery tongue between my lips.
“Aah!” he howled when I bit down in reflex. He held a hand to his face and glared at me.
“What the hell?” I yelled.
Braxton pulled his hand away from his face and examined it. There was no blood, but he still wore the expression of a wounded dog. “You bit me,” he complained. “You actually fucking bit me.”
I crossed my arms and looked around, hoping we weren’t attracting any neighborly interest. “Oh, just barely,” I hissed. “I wasn’t expecting that. You didn’t exactly ease in there romantically.”
Braxton’s lips spread into a slow smile. He grabbed me by the waist a little too hard.
“Is this more romantic?” he whispered. His breath was sour, and he pushed himself against me, shoving me into the wall. When I tried to break free, he kept me pinned and started grinding his hips until I could feel every repulsive centimeter of his boner.
“Braxton!” I shouted. “Let go of me or I’m going to scream until your eardrums bleed!”
He dropped his hands and backed off. A guilty redness crept across his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I had a few shots with my buddy while you were in the ladies’ room, and I’m a little fucked up. You know me, Mel. You know I don’t usually act like this.”
I put my hand on my doorknob. “No, dude. Apparently I don’t know you at all. Just fucking leave. Now!”
Braxton nodded, turned around, and started to trudge back to the parking lot. Suddenly he stopped and turned around with a beseeching expression.
“Look, Melanie, I misread the signals. I’m really sorry.”
I was disgusted. “You’re sorry that you’re a first-class creep with grabby hands?”
