Maya
I notice him immediately.It's impossible not to. Julian Bishop is the man of the hour, after all. This celebration, complete with expensive champagne and stiff-backed wait staff, has drawn the crème de la crème of Manhattan's social elite. It's the place to be tonight, and with a lot of crafty manipulation and a fair bit of luck, I'm standing in the midst of it, wearing a killer little black dress and diamond earrings I borrowed from a broker who has sold more than her fair share of apartments with Park Avenue addresses.
"I got you another glass of champagne, Maya."
I turn toward my date for the evening, taking the tall crystal flute from his hand. I enjoy a small sip while I look at his hands. They're adequate, not too large, and not too small. Those hands, along with the brief kiss he gave me when he picked me up tonight promise a night of passion that would be forgettable at best. He's nothing to write home about or to write about at all, for that matter.
"Thanks, Charlie," I purr. "Where's your drink?"
He nudges the sexy-as-all-hell, black-rimmed eyeglasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger. He has a nerd with a side of male model look. That's what made me stop at his desk two weeks ago to ask if I could borrow his stapler.
I don't staple. If I did, I'm sure I'd find one in my desk, hidden beneath the three dresses and two pairs of shoes I have tucked in the drawer. I never know when a change of wardrobe is called for. A girl has to be ready for anything when she's trying to claw her way up the hierarchy of the real estate market in this town.
"I had one. That's my limit." He squints as he looks at the bar. "Is she here yet? I heard someone say she's going to make an entrance."
I heard someone say she's a dirty, dirty slut.
That, someone, was me. I said it to myself. She's far from dirty or slutty. She's a lawyer, Harvard educated, with looks to rival her intelligence.
Jealousy is a filthy accessory, and I don't wear it well.
"I don't think she's arrived yet." I turn back to where Julian is standing. He looks just as he did when I first laid eyes on him. That was more than a year ago. I was helping a friend, and he was offering her a job. Our paths crossed, the energy flowed, and then he left.
I never saw the man in person again.
I would have settled for one tumble in the sheets of his bed. A brief encounter would have satisfied my craving, but it wasn't meant to be. He continued on his happily-ever-after path, and I sailed the dating waters of Manhattan occasionally snagging a Charlie in my net.
"I'm going to mingle," I say it like I mean it. "I'll meet you back here in thirty."
Charlie looks down at his watch. It's not impressive. That's not Charlie's style.
"Thirty minutes, Maya." He touches the lenses of his glasses with the tips of two of his fingers before he points them right at me. "I'm going to have my eyes on you."
Good for you, Cowboy.
I take my champagne, my spirit of adventure, and my too tight black heels and I start to cross the room. I took my time getting dressed tonight in anticipation of that split second we all live for. It's that moment when the man you imagine running naked through a field of daisies with or fucking in a back alley, turns to look at you.
I've been planning this accidental meeting between Julian and me for weeks, including carefully plotting every word I'll say when his eyes meet mine.
I'm counting on him remembering me because I've been told that I'm not easy to forget.
"Maya Baker." The voice behind me is unmistakably his. It's warm with a hint of control and deep with the promise of pleasure.
I start to pivot at the sound of it. It's a beacon, a pull that is too strong to resist.
"Don't turn around." A hand, steady and determined, touches my hip. The fingers assert enough pressure to control my movement. "I don't recall seeing your name on the guest list."
Something's caught Julian's cock's attention. I can feel the length of it pressing against me in the middle of the room while we wait for his business partner, rumored lover and woman I'd most like to lock in a closet for eternity to arrive. "I was a last minute addition."
"A welcome addition," he adds. "Are you enjoying yourself?"
I feel the undercurrent of desire. It was there over a year ago when we met. It's stronger now.
"I am now." I push my fingers into his on my hip.
His chest lifts and then falls on a heavy exhale. "I'm needed at the podium. You won't run away before we have a chance to talk, will you?"
I turn to look up at him. Black hair, ocean blue eyes and a face that could make a woman want to lock her office door mid-day to fantasize about him.
