Hunting for Curves (BBW Erotic Romance) Page 7

  "Jazzie."

  Her shoulders jerked and she glanced up. The office manager simply waved for her to follow him.

  The skin on her neck crawled as she stepped into the conference room. Had she missed a deadline? No. She kept a log of every contract. He was probably going to blame her for another missing file or a typo entered by a co-worker.

  He slowly closed the door behind him, then took a seat across from her.

  "You've been a good employee." He cleared his throat and laced his fingers on the table in front of him. "And I want you to know I appreciate all the hard work you've done."

  Her eyes widened. Oh no.

  "But we've had to move some of our contracts overseas in an effort to make cutbacks."

  Her lips parted as her breath caught. No, no, no—

  "And, unfortunately, we're going to have to let you go."

  The blood drained from her face as she stared back at him. My car's still in the shop. Rent's due in a week. I was going to buy some groceries today—

  "Sorry, kiddo. I really did like you." He smiled but his eyes remained neutral.

  "When?" Jasmine croaked.

  "Today." He pushed a piece of paper across the desk. "Don't worry about finishing up what you're working on. Your login will be frozen by the time we're done here. Just sign this and your desk will need to be clear by five."

  With numb fingers, she scrawled her name on the dotted line next to the words, "Exit Interviewee."

  Then he stood up and extended his hand. "I wish you the best of luck, Jazzie. You're spunky and cute. I'm sure you won't have any problems finding a new job."

  She limply shook his hand. Then she sat for a moment staring at her lap, as he left the room. That's how he saw me? Spunky? And cute?

  Most of the office workers had left for the day by the time she got back to her desk. She stared longingly at Mary's empty chair, just across the aisle. Right when she needed a friend the most, of course she was all alone.

  She managed to get most of her belongings into a small box. But her African violet was in a round, self-watering pot that was simply too large to fit. She wasn't even sure it would survive the change in lighting if she took it back to her apartment. So she placed it next to Mary's keyboard with a note.

  Check the water level a few times a week and right before the weekend. I'll miss you. -Jasmine

  The bus ride home was slow and awkward. People glanced at her nice, pleated skirt and formal blouse. Then their eyes would fall on the box, with the tiny lamp shade and picture frame standing out. She hated pity. But they all gave her varying forms of it: either a sad smile, a knowing nod, or a quick look away. She wanted to throw her things at them.

  As she approached her apartment, she saw a man step back from the main entrance and stare up at the windows above him. Then she stopped in her tracks.

  "Luke?" Jasmine called.

  He whipped his head around. "Jasmine!"

  "What are you doing here?" She stepped up to him, the box firmly in front of her. "I thought…"

  "Well." He brushed a hand through his dark hair. "I wanted to see you." He smiled and looked straight into her eyes. "How are you doing?"

  She glanced down at the box. "I've been better," she said with a crooked smile. The salty taste of tears welled in the back of her throat but she swallowed it down. "How are you?"

  "I guess I'm about the same." Then his widening eyes flicked to the little lamp. "Wait. Are those—Did you get fired?"

  She turned away. "I don't want to talk about it." Her legs shook as she stepped up to the door. Bracing the box on her hip, she fished for her keys. She didn't want to cry in front of him.

  Luke raced up the steps. "Let me help." He reached out and gripped the box in both his hands.

  "No, I'm fine."

  But it slipped out from her grasp and Luke clutched it to his chest with one hand. A tight grin pulled at his lips as he stood, back straight, his eyes flashing from her to the street behind him. It was as if he didn't know what to do or say. Or even if he was welcome.

  She closed her eyes and retrieved her keys with a deep sigh. "Would you like to come in?"

  "Only if it's convenient for you."

  It sounded strange hearing Luke speak in formalities. Especially since she was the one who wronged him. But she couldn't help but smile at his charm.

  A giggle snuck up her throat. "Of course it is, silly." She gently patted his shoulder as he held the door open for her.

  He was silent during the elevator ride and quietly followed her as she walked down the hall. As she unlocked the door, she flashed him a quick glance. He returned a smile as he eyed her nervously. I'm the one who should be anxious. How the hell am I going to apologize for what I did?

  Her apartment looked like a spread from an IKEA catalog. Plain furniture was neatly arranged in the room, with bright, colorful fabric, as if that would make up for the cheap quality.

  The flowers Rodney had left for her were still in a vase in the kitchen. A pang of regret rolled through her stomach. I did the same thing to Luke and he's acting like nothing happened.

  She set her purse on the counter as Luke surveyed the pictures on her walls. Her muscles tensed as she watched him. I should apologize. But she knew she didn't have the guts.

  "You can set that on the coffee table," she said over her shoulder. "Would you like something to drink?"

  "Oh." He placed the box down and straightened. "A soda please."

  She opened the refrigerator and winced. She hadn't been grocery shopping since the car had been in the shop. The racks were bare except for a single slice of cheese and a near-empty bottle of catsup.

  He raised an eyebrow at her expression. "Or tea."

  She lifted up on her toes and the empty cabinet stared back at her. "Would you be okay with water?"

  "Yeah. Bottled? Or—"

  He stopped as she turned with her hands on her hips, her own brows raised. This is not going well.

  "I am perfectly happy with tap water." He sat down on the thin futon that also served as her bed. "Are you going to be okay? You know, since…" He gestured at the box on the coffee table.

  "I'll be fine." She filled two glasses and made her way to the couch facing him.

  "I mean, if you need some help?" His brow knitted as he accepted the drink. "I can give you some cash."

  "God," she said with exasperation. "Why does everyone pity me? Do I look like a puppy in the rain or something?"

  His lips stopped just above the glass rim. "I'm—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—would you prefer if I just loaned you the money until you get back on your feet."

  "No, that's not it." She waved her hand. "It's just—I'm still processing it. I'm sorry. It's been a long day."

  Luke nodded and sipped from his glass.

  "You know," she said as she curled her feet onto the couch. "I'm probably screwed. But it's okay. Because I really hated my job."

  She set her glass down on the coffee table as he sat back, patiently waiting for her to continue.

  "My manager was a demeaning asshole who didn't appreciate, or even understand what I did. And he called me by a nickname, 'Jazzie', as if he thought it was funny, or even okay."

  Luke grimaced. "I know that feeling. Evan does that to me all the time." He cleared his throat. "Lucas," he said in a low voice. "How many times do I have to tell you—" Then he chuckled.

  She couldn't help but laugh at the near perfect impersonation. "Yeah but you guys have something special. This guy didn't even know my last name."

  Luke glanced out the window. "Had," he corrected. "I haven't seen him since…"

  Jasmine quickly picked up her glass and drank as the room fell into uncomfortable silence. She wanted to ask him more. But in order to do so she would have to admit that she hurt him. That she was responsible.

  "Will y—" she started.

  "Those a—" he said at the same time. "Sorry, go ahead."

  "No, what were you going to say?"

 
; "Oh, um." He nodded at the kitchen. "I was going to say that I like your flowers."

  "Those," she said with sarcasm. "Rodney sent—" She stopped, cupping her mouth as she stared back.

  "Rodney?" Luke leaned forward, his brows pinched. "Who's Rodney?"

  "Well." A blush burned up her neck. "He was this guy I was seeing."

  "He's your boyfriend?"

  "Not exactly."

  Luke crossed his arms.

  "I mean, yes, we were dating but only in the loosest sense of the word." She swallowed hard. "He only came over at night and he never took me anywhere. I think he was ashamed to be seen with me." Her nose scrunched. "And I know he was cheating on me." She glanced up at him. "I caught him red-handed the night I met you."

  "After?"

  "No. Before." She smiled despite the tension in her voice.

  "Oh." Luke shifted back into his seat. "Geez, no wonder you looked sad. I'm so sorry."

  "Don't be." She cradled her chin against her shoulder. "I had a good time."

  "You deserve better than that guy." Luke frowned. "I would never treat you like that."

  "I know, Luke. You're a good man. But you should really give Evan a call. I'm sure he misses you."

  "I don't know." He looked back out the window. "We've hurt each other pretty bad."

  "It can be fixed." She stood up and crossed over to sit next to him. With a gentle hand she rubbed his shoulder. "You two were meant for each other."

  He turned back and a pang of fear raced up her spine as his lips hovered close to her. "So are we."

  "Luke," she urged. "I can't replace him. You know that."

  "That's okay." He leaned toward her, his eyes closed, his mouth slightly open.

  Jasmine sucked in her breath. That first night flashed in her head: the feel of his hard body, the masculine scent of his aftershave, how much she'd wanted to kiss him. She pushed him back and jumped to her feet. "It's not okay."

  "Jasmine." He opened his arms in a pleading motion. "Why won't you give me the chance you gave Evan?"

  "Because it was wrong." She closed her eyes and crossed her arms, trying to banish his smell from her memory. "Because it hurt you. Luke, we were drunk and I was in a bad place emotionally. It should never have happened without you."

  Luke sighed and rested his jaw in his braced hand. "It was. But I don't blame him. I wanted to do it first."

  Her head swam for a moment. She stared down at him, her hands on her hips. "Do you even hear yourself? This isn't a game. Jesus, what is with men and competition?"

  Kneeling down, she placed a hand on his cheek. "I like you both. But I can't go down this path knowing I was the one who created the rift between you two."

  "It wasn't just you. We were having issues before…" His voice trailed off. "I'm just so lonely without him. Without you. Can you at least give me a chance?"

  "No." She rose to her feet. And as she gazed down at him, he hid his hands in his face.

  "I wish we could go back to when we first met." His voice was heavy, full of emotion, and on the edge of breaking. "I wish we could start over."

  Temptation pulled at her heartstrings but she swallowed it down. She knew his pain; it was all too familiar. The sort of conflict and loneliness so basic that it became crippling. Only it was different from the outside. Despite all her failings, she'd never wanted pity herself—and she wasn't going to pity him.

  She wanted to start over too. Desperately. But if this was going to happen it would be for the right reasons.

  Jasmine fixed her jaw with determination. "On one condition."

  He glanced up with wide eyes. "What?"

  "I will allow you to date me on one condition."

  "Yes?"

  "Meet me at the bar. This Friday at eight. Sharp."

  "You mean at Evan's hotel?"

  She nodded. "And you aren't allowed to contact me until then."

  "Oh—okay." He stood up, blinking with confusion. "Friday at eight."

  She opened her front door. "If you come early, the deal's off." A grin spread across her lips. "I'll see you then."

  He stepped into the hall as if he was in a daze, but a smile sprang up on his face. "Thank you. I will be there on time."

  Then she shut the door and leaned heavily against it. Her body ached as if she'd run a mile in high heels. It had taken all her will to resist him. But she knew this would be better in the long run. I just hope this works.

  ***

  The week dragged painfully as Jasmine managed to pull enough money together to pay for her car repairs. However, it left her with no other option but to put the rent on the only credit card she hadn't maxed out. Between that and her last paycheck, she figured she'd have just enough to get through the month before she'd start falling behind on bills.

  She'd spent every day sending out resumes to potential job prospects. And some had come back with requests for interviews over the next few weeks—more contractor work—but that was a start. If she played her cards right, she could be working a new job before her finances ran out. Of course, any of these could be just as bad as the last one but she had to find something.

  When Friday finally rolled around, she lost track of time and only had a few minutes to get ready. Parking was always a bitch downtown, but she could make it if she didn't hit too many stop lights. Her plan was already in motion. It would all be for nothing if she was late.

  Her watch showed one minute to eight as she jogged down the sidewalk. And as she turned the corner to the front entrance of the hotel, she spied Luke swaggering up the other way.

  "Hey!" he called and lifted a hand. He wore a crisp, light-blue dress shirt and pressed black slacks. His hair was loosely styled in a tasteful manner: neat on the sides, wavy on top.

  She stopped to catch her breath. "I'm glad I caught you. Ready to go in?" Her face felt flushed and her hair was probably messy from running, but that didn't matter. She didn't need to look like a perfect princess this night. It wasn't about her. God, this better work.

  Luke held the door open and made a chivalrous hand gesture. The place was packed full of people and it looked like there was little room to maneuver, let alone hope for empty seats.

  He didn't know why Jasmine had wanted to come back to this bar of all places, but that by itself didn't bother him. There were too many other problems weighing heavy on his mind.

  He'd stayed in a budget motel for a week out of sheer stubbornness, and a need to spend time alone. But that was getting old now. After plenty of brooding, he still hadn't come to any conclusions—besides the fact that loneliness didn't suit him. That could wait for later though, when he had the stomach to deal with it.

  For now, he would try to have a good time. Jasmine clearly deserved it after all the shit she'd been through.

  She was gorgeous, wearing business casual navy blue pants and a ruffled cream-colored blouse. The clothes accentuated every luscious curve of her body, and the tousled hair lent a mischievous air that he'd never noticed before.

  It looked like she knew it too. Her posture was confident as she made her way through the crowd. Luke followed her and he couldn't keep from staring at her perfect round ass, like a tempting beacon in front of him.

  "This is a surprise."

  Evan's deep voice snapped him back to reality. Fuck. That was why she wanted to come here.

  Evan's eyes were wide, but he stood slowly and pulled out a chair for Jasmine. She sat down and gave Luke a look etched with sympathy.

  Luke's mouth worked but he couldn't form words. A serrated knife ripped at his heart. With a glance behind him, he had the fleeting thought that he could dash for the door. But with the crowd of people shoulder-to-shoulder, that would have been a disaster. Not to mention the idea was stupid.

  Instead he swallowed hard and tried to find his voice.

  "What's… going on?" Luke finally managed.

  Evan took a seat and tapped a finger on the table. "This wasn't your idea?"

  "What? No." He glance
d at Jasmine and his jaw tightened.

  "It was me." She brushed her hair back behind her shoulder and folded her hands. "I'm sorry I had to trick both of you this way. I feared you wouldn't come if I told you the truth."

  "You're probably right." Evan sighed and looked up with a gleam in his azure-blue eyes. "Luke, will you join us?"

  Luke stared down at the floor, avoiding eye contact, trying to fight the heavy grip crushing his chest.

  With heart wrenching slowness, he saw the statue fall in his mind. And he tried to catch it again but the smooth porcelain slipped through his fingers. The cracking sound of it hitting the floor rang through his ears.

  He didn't want to relive that moment, nor the strained silence that followed. Especially not the look of pain on Evan's face.

  It hurt even more knowing that Charles would have forgiven him for the broken statue. The man was from an older generation, and despite his sometimes gruff manner he'd been unfailingly generous.

  No, Charles would have sat him down, probably made him tea, and given him a hard stare. "Get your shit together, Luke. It isn't the statue that needs fixing."

  God, he missed the man.

  Luke's fingers closed on the back of the chair before he'd realized he made a decision. Then he sat down opposite Evan.

  Evan watched, waiting until Luke scooted the chair in, then he gave him a solemn look. "I meant to say this to Jasmine, but I need you to hear it—"

  Luke shook his head. "Don't."

  "Let me finish." Evan lifted his hand. "I was out of line. I did something for my own selfish reasons that hurt both of you. There's no justification for that."

  Luke wanted to tell Evan to stop being so perfect. Even the man's apologies sounded like they should have been written in some kind of elegant script. It had been a mistake to think that having a threesome would improve their relationship. The brief sense of togetherness had been an illusion. He should have known what it really meant. Evan wins. He's always in control. And he gets the girl in the end—even though he's gay.

  He glanced at Jasmine. The look of expectation on her face made his stomach clench. She was beautiful and amazing; she didn't deserve to be caught up between him and Evan. God, he wished that he could have spared her the pain. Spared all of them.