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I like being here. The sounds of the street below are muted. With only one light on in the kitchen and a little light spilling in from outside, a soft glow makes the room appear cozy. I take a sip of the wine. Why am I stalling, and why am I still here? I didn’t need to stay. This was a friendly arrangement that would probably turn into a business arrangement. I need to discuss money with her, but not yet. What I really want is to spend hours enjoying Heather’s company. I want to turn the lights low and talk about everything under the sun. I want this evening to last. I’d been on dates, lots of them since leaving Stanford, but I hadn’t experienced this feeling with any of those women.
I shrug. “I’m sure they’ll be gone in a week.”
“A week?” Heather shouts.
“What? Is that too long? Can’t stand to be my girlfriend for that long?”
She rolls her eyes and takes another sip of wine. “This isn’t college. I have—never mind. Okay, one week. I can do this for one week. But that’s it.”
I hold up my hand and say, “Scout’s honor.”
“Please, you were never a Scout.”
“I was.”
She rolls her eyes again. “Did you all camp in Central Park?”
“No, we camped at the Four Seasons, it was dangerous making our way through the city streets. We had to dodge Range Rovers, Rolls-Royces, and Porsches.” She gives me her best side-eye, and I sink deeper into the couch. I could get used to her and this. The situation sinks in a little more, and I grow serious. “Really, thank you. I’ll owe you.”
She points her finger at me and pokes me in the chest. “Yes, you will. I don’t know what I’m going to ask for, but you will owe me big time.”
When I’d first stepped into her apartment, I’d paid attention to the size, but not much else. Now, as I sit drinking wine, I notice a few small statues; red, blue, and green vases; photos from around the world. I get up and move to a photo taken in China in front of the Forbidden City. Heather is smiling, her dimples showing. She’d always been quick to smile. I can’t remember a time my mother had smiled like that. I feel Heather beside me. When I look, she’s studying the photos which gives me time to observe her.
Her head turns just a little, but then her eyes meet mine. All those long years ago I’d wanted to kiss her. I’d told myself she was too good for me. She blinks, her lashes resting against her cheeks and I can’t hold back. I angle myself a little and cup her cheek so I can move closer. She doesn’t back away. Excitement zings through me, and I can't believe I'm about to kiss Heather, the woman of my fantasies.
I hesitate, wondering how muddy I’m making the waters? We were pretending to be engaged, but there isn’t anything pretend about this moment. My lips slide over hers, and it sucks the air from my lungs. I’m unprepared for the impact and lean in because I can’t stand up on my own.
She’s got some magic over me because I’m ready to do whatever she wants. My hand drops low and rests on the sexy curve of her ass. My cock hardens, and I wonder how difficult it would be to convince her to take this further. I want to take this much farther, and I wish she were my real fiancée because not once in my relationship with Sandra had a kiss felt this good.
Heather pulls away. I’m thinking she’s about to suggest we head to the bedroom, or maybe have a fun little romp on the couch. Again, she surprises me.
“You should go.”
Her words hurt. I’d thought we had a connection. We were pretend engaged, but she is asking me to leave. I don’t deserve another kiss. I step away and tug at the cuffs of my shirt. It was a move I made when I had no clue what to do. I knew this about myself and yet I still did it.
“Sure. I need to head home anyway. I’ll call you tomorrow and tell you when to show up for dinner.”
Heather’s eyes grow darker with anger. I feel bad since I’m being a dick. It comes so naturally.
She moves to the door and gives a stiff smile as I pass by. There is no goodbye kiss, no hug, no kind words, just a door shut behind me. Nothing that has happened this afternoon was natural.
I order a car, which takes five minutes to show up. It’s okay because I use that time to open my email and work. Work centers me, and I dive in, not coming up for a breath until two in the morning. I’d barely said thank you to the driver when I left the car. Not allowing anything to distract me, I rip through email after email. I may not be the head of Baxter-Scott Enterprises, but I was going to prove I could be.
