I grin and wisely sip my drink rather than say anything. I can certainly relate.
“So, back to this Emily Becksworth of yours. I’m curious as to why she isn’t actually yours.”
I feel my mood noticeably drop. For some reason the last thing I want to talk about is Emily.
The story spills from my lips all the same. If my head was clear, I’d say it’s because I want Honey to know that I am capable of a relationship.
Then again, if my head was clear, I would die before admitting such a thing, even to myself.
“She was mine once. Back in law school. We probably would have gotten married by now if she had landed a job in New York like me.”
“So…you two broke up because she couldn’t get a job here?”
I nod. “Long-distance relationships don’t work.”
“How sad.”
I turn to look at her in surprise, a bit of sobriety slipping through the moonshine fog.
She gives me an embarrassed smile. “I guess I’m naïve. I think if you love someone any obstacle can be overcome.”
“In all fairness, it was her idea. But I didn’t fight her on it.”
“And now she’s back.”
I nod somberly. “And she’s taken.”
“Hmm,” Honey says, in understanding. “But you want her back.”
Do I?
“It’s more…” I look ahead again. “I want what I thought she represented. This firm I work at, I’m sure she’ll settle into it as perfectly as a hand in a glove. I still can’t get one of the senior partners to even say my last name, let alone pronounce it right. Even if I do make partner, I still don’t have the connections to automatically bring in business from day one. I know I’ve had to put in more hours, work twice as hard, be even more on my toes. The smallest slip-up could knock me right down a few pegs. On top of that there’s this stupid gala.”
“Stupid?” Honey says, perking up. “How could you hate any kind of a party? I mean, the rest of it sounds perfectly odious, but a gala? One where you have to dress up? That should at least make up for it.”
I exhale an ironic laugh. Why am I not surprised she’d find something optimistic in everything I’ve revealed.
To me, the gala is pure torture. Forced smiles and equally forced conversation. The only things worthwhile are the quality food, open bar, and the ambiance. ABC usually holds it someplace high class.
This year it’s at the Plaza Hotel.
My mind races back to Honey’s party, her in that spectacular dress. I’m sure she’d fit in perfectly, working her magic to win over even the most discriminating soul. She’d be perfect.
She is perfect.
“Would you like to go as my date? It’s next Saturday.”
“To make Emily jealous,” she confirms.
“No,” I say instantly, causing her eyes to widen. “I mean, yes, she’ll be there. But…no. I want you to come. As my date. Period.”
A slow, hesitant smile comes to her face. “I’d love to.”
The sense of relief I feel is troubling.
Am I asking because of Emily?
No, I really do want Honey there with me. Just because.
This moonshine is doing a number on me. I frown down into the glass.
Honey misinterprets it.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to paint you in the most perfect light.” She leans in with a sly smile. “I know a thing or two about snobs. They all have their soft underbellies. And I’m just the kind of feather to leave them tickled.”
The way she uses words, parts of me are certainly tickled.
“You really are a doll,” I say in wonder.
“I’ll assume that’s Jersey boy speak for sweetheart,” she says, smiling over her drink as she takes a sip.
I continue to stare at her long enough to make her swallow that sip the hard way.
She lifts her glass to me and levels her gaze, reclaiming her composure. “Here’s to the beginning of a beautiful friendship, Giuseppe.”
That’s when it officially kicks in for my idiot, moonshine influenced head.
“I don’t want to be just friends.”
Chapter Eighteen Honey
This time I don’t have time to sense the kiss before it happens.
I’m still processing Giuseppe’s words, reading what meaning lies behind the obvious.
‘I don’t want to be just friends.’
That gives him plenty of time to once again set his glass down, and take mine to do the same. Then, he rips off his glasses to join them on the coffee table.
When he leans in this time, his hands cupping my face, I realize he meant exactly what he said. No facade. No subterfuge. No hidden intent.
His lips cement that fact, dancing against mine to that lovey rhythm that is rapidly becoming my favorite tune. His right hand slides around to the back of my neck to bring me in closer.
Giuseppe pulls away once again, less suddenly this time.
The look in his eyes gives no reprieve.
I know what he wants, and I’m more than happy to give it to him. More to the point, I need to.
He’s not the only one who needs release tonight.
His hand on the back of my neck is still firmly in place, claiming me. The other comes around to the front. Gone are the days of him being a gentleman, avoiding looking at the most intimate parts of me.
Now, he demands it all. His hand doesn’t even hesitate before tugging at the tie that holds my robe closed. The silk slithers away to reveal my naked body.
I’m the last person on Earth that anyone would ever call shy.
But now, the way Jesse’s eyes fall on me, wandering over my bare breasts, across my stomach, down to the spot where my thighs come together, it has me feeling like a teenage virgin.
Even Roy Jackson way back in the day, entangled with me in the backseat of his dad’s car underneath the glare of the indoor carlight didn’t make me feel this simultaneously vulnerable yet giddy with anticipation.
“Mannaggia a te,” Giuseppe mutters underneath his breath.
Italian. Sexy.
His eyes flash up to mine, apologetically for some reason. “Sorry, it’s
