Loving Ms. Wrong Page 2

  Heather launches herself at Tony like she hasn’t seen him for weeks. He responds in kind, wrapping her into a huge hug and kissing her in front of the whole bar. Can’t misread that. Geez.

  I tip my head toward the kissing pair. “Not sure when they’re going to come up for air, so I might as well introduce myself. Hi, I’m Marcus. Tony and I have known each other since college.”

  “Katrina,” the woman answers, offering me her hand. “Nice to meet you. I met Heather in a yoga class over a year ago.”

  Our hands meet and the warmth of her palm energizes me, sending a tingle of awareness up my arm. Now that she’s closer, her unique blue-green eyes demand my attention. There’s a spark of intelligence and experience I don’t normally see from a young woman in a bar on Friday night.

  Like she knows things.

  The impression is fleeting and gone once she drops my hand and moves her gaze away from mine.

  She has piqued my curiosity. I wonder what she does for a living. Hopefully she’s not some deadbeat chick with enough outstanding student loans to choke a horse. God save me from another woman hoping a guy will magically make all her debt problems disappear.

  Heather and Tony finally disentangle their limbs and remember they’re in a public place. “Sorry about that. I was so surprised to see him here.”

  “Yeah,” I say, with a little edge to my voice. “We could tell.”

  Tony shoots me a death look and draws Heather closer to him, perfectly content to look like a Neanderthal staking claim over his mate. I ignore his pointed glare and shift my attention toward the bartender, motioning for a refill when I catch his eye.

  “Does anyone need a drink?” I ask.

  Heather giggles. “We had plenty before we got here.” She looks toward her friend and nods. “But one more won’t hurt, especially if we drink it slowly. I’ll have a white wine.”

  Katrina hesitates before nodding. “Okay, I’ll have the same.” Her eyes flit to mine briefly and she says, “Thank you.” Heather chimes in and thanks me, too. Nice to see they’re not so far gone they’ve forgotten their manners. I hate it when I buy a woman a drink and she acts like it’s owed to her.

  Tony raises his full beer, indicating he’s fine, so I place the ladies’ orders when the bartender drifts close enough to hear me.

  “Are those penises around your neck?” Tony asks while leaning in closer to examine the necklace.

  “Why, yes,” Heather says proudly, straightening her spine a little. “They are.”

  I check out Katrina, thinking Tony’s observation is a nice way for me to look her over without appearing like a cad.

  The baggy black shirt she’s wearing doesn’t reveal much, but the short sleeves end on the tightest biceps I’ve ever seen on a woman. As my examination travels lower, I note well-defined thighs and calves, too. This woman works out — a lot. If my workouts and hours at the gym have taught me anything, it’s that women don’t look that toned without some serious effort.

  I’m intrigued in spite of myself. My perusal ends at her shoes—hot pink with a zebra print on the heel. Wild. And sexy as all get out. Those are some serious fuck-me pumps. A woman who wears shoes like that must know something the rest don’t. I wonder what that could be.

  “Nice shoes,” I say, raising my glass in a silent toast of approval.

  Katrina tilts one foot out at an angle while looking down. “Thanks. They wouldn’t be my first choice, but for tonight they were perfect.”

  Damn, there goes any hope that she’s wild enough to wear shoes like that all the time. Then again, I’ve never had a shoe fetish or anything before. On her they spiked my interest.

  Heather mimics Katrina’s pose with her own zebra platform shoes. “They certainly are fun.”

  Tony leans in and whispers something in his girlfriend’s ear, causing her to blush. Horny bastard. Probably telling her how he’s going to bend her over later while she’s wearing the shoes.

  I steal a glance at Katrina and can’t help the images that conjure at such a thought. I bet she’s a moaner. It’s always the ones you never suspect that are the most fun in bed. All the yoga she mentioned… I bet she’s super bendy, too.

  The ladies’ wine arrives and I hand them their glasses. Katrina makes eye contact with me when accepting her drink and I feel lucky. Like she doesn’t normally give a guy even that much attention. Hmm… could she be interested? Damn the noise level in the bar. It’s going to be impossible to carry a decent conversation.

  “So, where do you work?” I ask, raising my voice to be heard.

  Katrina glances from the crowd to our group, noting my attention on her and not the others. “Me? Oh, I’m sorry. I own a health food store over near Washington Square Park.”

  She owns her own business. That could be good or bad. More than likely she’s got a good credit report or she’d never be able to open her own store. It’s hard to turn your mind off of money and finances when that’s what you do all damn day. “Good for you. Was it a dream you always had?”

  She looks at me funny, as if having a store would be an odd dream. “Not really. Well, at least, not in the beginning.” She shrugs and glances away. Obviously this one isn’t much for conversation. Crying shame, too as she’s got gorgeous eyes. I wouldn’t mind staring into them for a sweaty hour or two.

  A crack of lightning illuminates the room. Almost instantly a loud boom of thunder rumbles from outside, vibrating through the floor to my legs, followed by the sound of rain pouring down on the streets outside.

  The lights on the wall flicker once and go out, casting the whole bar in darkness. Raucous, good-natured cheers from the customers buoy the crowd, while the staff struggles to re-light small oil candles placed at all the high tables and drink ledges. Soon the whole bar is lit with the small lights, creating a softening effect on the drunken patrons. For some reason, the candles have a quieting effect on conversation in the bar, and it’s not nearly as loud as it was just minutes before.

  “Crap,” Katrina mutters. “This is going to be hell to get home in.”

  “You’re not leaving yet, are you?” Heather asks. “We just got here.”

  Tony takes out his phone and taps on the screen.

  Katrina glances out one of the windows, a worried expression on her face. “I wasn’t planning on it, but I’m worried it’s going to get harder to make it home as the storm progresses. I do have to work in the morning.”

  “The local news reports power outages all over Manhattan,” Tony says while angling his phone for us to see. “Says most areas will be out for hours, maybe even the whole night.”

  “Well, that settles it,” Katrina says, a determined tilt to her chin. “I better catch the subway while it’s still running.”

  Heather grabs her arm. “Wait, sometimes the subway stops working—with people still on it. I read how commuters were trapped for hours a few weeks ago.”

  Katrina’s pretty mouth twists in a scowl. “Dammit, that means I’ll have to take a cab.”

  “Assuming you can find one,” Tony says. His face lights up and he points at me. “Marcus can escort you home. He’ll help you get a cab.”

  Before I have a chance to answer, she declines. “No, I’m fine, really. No need to go to all the trouble.”

  I look at Tony, wondering what the hell he’s thinking. Katrina cranes her neck to look outside again and I catch Tony mouthing to me, “Payback’s a bitch.”

  “Nonsense, Katrina. You’re not far from Mercer Street, where Marcus lives. He’d be happy to see you home safely.”

  Her face lights up, seeming to be more accepting of the offer now that she knows I’m not going out of my way. Her look of hope is so sweet I don’t have the heart to say no.

  I stifle my annoyance at my old college friend for ending my night sooner than I’d like and gallantly offer my arm to the woman. Who knows, maybe she’ll give me her number.

  She slips her hand in the crook of my arm and we weave over to Carla and the oth
er ladies to say goodnight. Her grasp on my arm tightens as we head out the front door and navigate the wet steps.

  We pause under the green awning, glancing right and left into the hot, wet night. “Should we even bother to check the subway?” she asks loudly, voice pitched to be heard over the driving rain.

  A yellow vehicle approaches from the right. I raise my hand and step toward the curb to hail the oncoming cab. “No reason to now. Our chariot awaits.”

  I offer my elbow again as we hustle toward the waiting cab. Katrina stumbles once and I wrap an arm around her waist instead, to prevent her from falling. The scent of her floods my senses as her warm body presses to mine.

  She smells of spice and vanilla, the aroma tantalizing and teasing me as I open the car door for her. She slides in, revealing a long expanse of lean leg and muscle. Wow, she really is in great shape. Wonder why she hides it with the long, baggy top.

  I follow her in and close the door. Katrina gives the driver her address and we’re off, inching down the crowded street overflowing with water.

  “Look at those storm drains,” she says while staring out the window. “It must really be coming down all over the city for them to be backed up so soon.”

  She adjusts on the bench seat and her small purse spills, emptying the contents onto the seat and the floor. I reach for the contents, trying to help, and my hand closes on a faintly glowing straw. It looks odd, so I bring it closer for a better view.

  “Is this shaped like a penis?”

  A squeak sounds from Katrina and she grabs it out of my hand. “It’s a gag gift. From Carla’s party.” She gathers up the rest of what’s on the seat as I bend down to help retrieve items on the floor.

  “Sounds like you ladies had a lot of fun.”

  She sighs. “We did actually. I haven’t let myself relax for a long time.”

  My hand closes on a cold, roundish object. “Busy with work?” A hard-working woman is always nice to see, but I don’t tell her that. She’d probably laugh.

  “Ah… work is part of it, yeah.”

  The cab halts at a unlit stop light, inching forward for a right hand turn. “Is this yours?” I ask, holding up the white plastic. Lightning flash fills the car and her face freezes in horror. I glance at the item, unable to make out what it is.

  “Give me that!” she lunges toward me and I close my fist, curious what has her so riled up.

  “Oh come on, it can’t be that bad.”

  “Seriously, Marcus. Give it here.”

  I smile and take out my phone, using the convenient flashlight feature to illuminate what’s in my hand. A multi-sided die sits in my palm, with what looks like naked people entwined on each side. Heat blossoms in my chest and shoots straight to my groin.

  “Holy shit, that’s hot.”

  Chapter Three

  Katrina

  I scoot closer and snatch the die from his hand, shoving it back to the depths of my purse. “It was another gag gift.”

  “Uh-huh, sure.” He grins, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You can’t fool me, you sexy yoga lady. I’m on to you.”

  His off-hand words stir up a whirlwind of emotions in my gut. “Me? Sexy?”

  Marcus’s lids lower as he leans back in the seat, staring at me. “It’s always the quiet ones who surprise you.”

  I scoff at his musings, but can’t deny I feel good at his words. For so many years I tried to enjoy sex, attempting everything with just about anyone who was willing. All to no avail. I don’t seem to feel the fascination with the act that others rave about.

  “I’d like a closer look at that die.” Marcus smiles. “Strictly for research purposes.”

  My cheeks heat and I feel a small grin stretching my mouth. “Maybe I’ll share it.” Could he be interested in me? The admiring twinkle in his eye says he might. I falter in my thoughts. Would it matter if he was? I’d be a major disappointment in the end with not enjoying sex.

  Best to keep him at arm’s length and on friend’s-only terms. That way no one will get let down. You know, like me. Again.

  Thunder booms once more outside as the cab slows to a stop in front of my store. “We’re here, Miss.”

  “Hey, is that your place, Herb Appeal?” Marcus stares out his window. “It looks like you’ve had some storm damage.”

  I launch across the seat, practically throwing myself on Marcus’s lap, to see what he’s talking about. A branch from one of the trees near the street is lying under the big picture window to the right of the door. A spider-web of cracks indicates where it struck when falling.

  “Oh no! What the hell am I going to do with that tonight?”

  “Do you have any duct tape inside?” Marcus lays a hand on my back, patting my shoulder once. “I can help you tape it up so the cracks might not spread. Could help prevent water coming in, too.”

  All of a sudden I’m aware of my position, draped over the lap of a man I just met. I scramble back to my side of the seat and frantically search my purse to pay the driver. “Uh… you don’t have to do that. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  While I’m digging for cash, Marcus beats me to it and pays the man. I inwardly sigh in relief as I mentally try and calculate the cost of repairing the window. Before I can thank him, he opens his door to slide into the rain.

  “Nonsense.” He reaches in and offers me his hand. “I’m happy to help you with the window.”

  This man I just met is proving something I thought long past gone—that chivalry isn’t dead. I take his hand and join him in the pouring rain, we race together to the narrow awning. “Thank you. And thank you for paying for the cab. I’m sure that window won’t be cheap to fix.”

  “You’re welcome. And you might want to check with your insurance. They might cover it.”

  The cab pulls away, driving slowly through the water accumulating fast in the street. “Well?” Marcus says loudly over the rain. “Shouldn’t we get inside and fix that window?”

  I nod and hurry to the door. The alarm pad is blank, no doubt due to the power outage, and I dig for my keys in the tiny purse. Having it dump all over the cab really messed up where I put everything.

  Marcus stands close behind me, possibly shielding me from the rain, or possibly hoping to get as far out of the driving wind and rain as he can. Either way, I feel his presence and it unnerves me, sending little bolts of awareness coursing through my veins.

  My hand closes over the keys and I drag them out from a corner of the purse. Finally! I don’t know what it is about this guy, but I seem to move through mud whenever he’s close. Like I can’t put coherent thought behind my actions.

  I rush inside, eager to get out of the rain and put some distance between us and the things I’m feeling. My wet high heels slip on the glossy tile of the store, sending my feet flying out from underneath me. I fall inelegantly on the floor, limbs sprawled and the breath knocked out of me.

  I lay there with my eyes closed, stunned for a moment before the embarrassment hits me. The door whooshes shut behind me and then Marcus’s steps hurry to approach where I lay.

  “Are you okay?” He asks while touching my arm. I crack open one lid and see his worried face leaning close. “Should I call for help? Do you think you broke anything?”

  A groan spills from me as I struggle to sit up. “I’m okay. Think I just wounded my pride.”

  His arm wraps around my back again, this time in concern. “Are you sure? I could probably…” He glances around the dark interior, eyes flitting from aisle to aisle and then toward the back, behind the counter. “I dunno… bring you a cool, wet towel… or something.”

  “No, I’m good.” I kick off the shoes, depositing them near my dropped purse, wishing I hadn’t raced in like a fool. He’s closer to me now than before, so that idea backfired. “Note to self: Don’t try and move quickly in wet high heels.”

  “Here, let me help you up.” He pulls me with him while rising, his hold on my waist a comfort and an enticement at the same time.
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br />   There’s a slight twinge of pain in my back, but I’m too humiliated to say anything. I’m sure a couple of Advil and stretching before bed will do wonders for relieving the strain.

  The length of his body presses against my side, making me hyper-aware of him. A tiny part of me wants to lean in and pretend I’m in need just so I can keep his heat near me a little longer. A shiver runs over me, and I can’t completely blame it on the wet clothes and the shop’s cooler air.

  “No twisted ankle? That was quite a fall.”

  I’m standing solidly on both feet or I could have gotten away with pretending to have twisted an ankle.

  Do you hear yourself? And why would you want to keep him close to you? So you can have another man look at you like you’re a loser in bed?

  I step away from his hold, regret burning deep in my gut for what can never be. “I’m stronger than I look. Thanks for helping me up.”

  His eyes travel over me leisurely. “You look pretty darn strong to me already.”

  I smile and turn away. Single men of a certain age are all the same. They see an attractive woman and immediately make a play. Too bad it wouldn’t work out. “I’m going to go find that tape you mentioned.”

  Marcus’s phone is out and he’s using it like a flashlight again, lighting the way in front of me. “Here, let me help.”

  He’s certainly conscientious. I’ll have to tell him later he’s earned extra brownie points for being a nice guy. Padding to the counter, with my boy scout trailing behind me, I open various drawers, searching for the tape.

  “This is a nice place. How long have you owned it?”

  “Nine months. I know the previous owner and got a great price when she was ready to move out of state.”

  Finding no tape, I wrack my brain for where I saw the grey shiny roll last.

  “What did you do before you ran the store?”

  “Metal artist.” Wait for it…

  “A what?”

  I smother a smile while motioning toward the back. “Come on, shine that thing down the hall. I might have left the tape in my workshop.”