Ditching The Dream (Dream Series) (11 page)

“I told him he could ask you himself, if he came back for dinner.”

I stopped in my tracks. He wouldn’t come back, would he? He was already here once today. I offered up a silent prayer that he wouldn’t come back for dinner.

I reached for a glass, filled it with some ice and Diet Coke, needing to wet my very dry whistle. Drinking the soda, I suddenly felt that something wasn’t right. The atmosphere had changed.

“And it looks like he’s going to do that sooner rather than later,” she continued, nodding her head forward, her eyes on someone behind me, but she didn’t need to do that, not really. Somehow I knew that change in the bar was his presence.

I took a deep breath. With any luck, he was sitting in Tom’s section.

“And he’s all yours tonight, sweetheart,” she said untying her apron. “He’s sitting at table two. You have tables tonight. Plus, Mondays are my nights off, and it’s quittin’ time.” She clocked out and headed to the back.

Just then Tom came up behind me. “Hey, Elizabeth. You’ve got a customer at table two.”

“So I hear,” I replied, putting a smile on my face and steeling myself to confront him again. I grabbed a cocktail napkin and slipped out from behind the bar and over to the tables.

“Hello again,” I opened, approaching his table like prey walking into the embrace of a lion. A well-dressed lion. I tried to appear confident, however, I was anything but. “Can I get you a Macallan?”

A wide smile spread on his face. It was the kind of smile that made you happy to be in its presence. My heart started to race.

“Well, well,” he said, winking.

“Or did you care for something else?” I continued.

“No. Macallan is perfect. And I’m all the more hopeful.”

“Hopeful for…?”

“Us.”

“What do you mean ‘us.’ It’s just a drink order.”

“No sweetheart, it’s more. If it were just a drink, you wouldn’t have remembered my label.”

Was that true? Yes, it was true. I had remembered his exact drink. “Maybe I’m just really good at what I do.” I winced at the unintended innuendo. I prayed that he wouldn’t take it the wrong way, and that I wasn’t blushing, but I was sure I was and I was sure he would.

“I’d love to find out.”
Oh god!
Of course, he would take it the wrong way.

I was stunned into silence. This man was loaded with confidence. And as I tried to fight my way out of this hole of embarrassment I’d dug for myself, there was
something
about his face, his insanely handsome face, that seemed
so
familiar. I would have to figure this out. It was going to drive me completely insane.

“Do you need a menu tonight?”

“No need.” He settled his eyes on mine and started in. “I’ll start with the Macallan. For dinner, I’ll take the ten-ounce filet, medium-rare, baked-potato, with butter and sour cream on the side, and a side of the roasted Brussels sprouts. Vinegar and oil with the salad. I’ll have glass of Stags Leap cab with dinner.” Then, pulling in his lower lip and running his teeth over it, he continued, with his eyes boring right into mine. “I have something in mind for dessert, but it’s not on the menu.”

“I can check with –” Oh! I stopped mid-sentence catching on to his message. “Um. I’ll go get your ticket started and be right back with the Macallan.”

On wobbly legs, and with a ragged breath, I made my way back behind the bar and entered his order. Thankfully as I was bringing his scotch to his table, two more tables sat and the night took off.

The constant flow of traffic was soothing, but Jack stayed the whole time. People often stopped at his table to chat with him. All sorts of people, too. Business types. Ordinary types. I swore I heard one visitor to his table ask for an autograph. At one point, a group of three tall, stick-thin women, all looking like leggy supermodels, stopped and Jack bought them a round of drinks. I’d never felt mousier, serving these girls who had to be half my age and were taller than me, even without their three inch heels.

It was nearing ten-thirty, the bar was quiet, allowing Tom and I to get to know each other a bit. He was really a sweet guy. He talked about his wedding and honeymoon with Jamie, but it wasn’t until he started showing me photos on his phone that I learned Jamie was a guy.

Jack sauntered up to the bar and handed me his check folder.

“Welcome back, Tom. I look forward to hearing all about Barbados. I assume the house was in good order for you and Jamie?

“It was amazing, Jack. Thank you again for letting us use it,” Tom replied.

Turning his attention to me, Jack smiled seductively. “And thank
you
, Beth. I’ll see you soon. Keep the change.” He winked then turned and walked out. I watched him leave. His smooth walk and über confidence would entrance anyone.

“So, what’s the deal with you and Jack? He didn’t take his eyes off of you the whole night,” Tom asked.

“You tell me. Is he like this with everyone? And that place in Barbados was
his?
”

“Fabulous beach house. And no, he’s not really flirtatious with anyone that I’ve seen. Women fall all over him, but he doesn’t really reciprocate. He’s polite and all, but in the end it’s mostly ‘just business.’ When I first met him, I actually hoped his cool attitude toward women meant that there was hope for me. Until I met Jamie, that is. Not to mention the industry he is in.”

“What
does
he do?”

“Wait. Are you serious?” I sat deadpan, not understanding Tom’s shock. “That’s Jack Stevens. Most notably, he was the Guess Jeans model and Drakkar Noir model twenty-some years back, and now runs JSS Models, Inc.” I blinked at Tom a few times, like he had just spoken in another language. “Are you telling me you had no idea?” he asked, nearly laughing.

I shook my head slowly, but that certainly explained several things. Why he looked so familiar, why he was so confident, and the leggy supermodels earlier. “I feel like such a dunce! How did I not recognize him?”

Then realization hit me even harder. He’s ‘Jackass Jack.’ From my tiny rural hometown of Charter Oaks, Colorado –
that
Jack Stevens. He wasn’t just familiar because of his modeling celebrity, he’d gone to school with my sister, Suzie. Well, he was a couple years ahead of her. I wasn’t very close to Suzie, because she was seven years older than I was. He dated her best friend, Jenny. When they’d broken up, Suzie and Jenny started calling him ‘Jackass-Jack,’ a nickname that stuck even through
my
days in high school, when he was long gone.

Jack came from the outskirts of town, the youngest of eight in a family of ranchers. I remember the talk around town that the parents weren’t really involved – maybe because they were too busy with the ranch, too tired, or maybe just indifferent. The whole Stevens clan still lived in town and worked on the ranch, except for Jack, from what the local gossip mongers shared.

Jack had gone to work in a grocery store after graduation to save money for college. He would have been the first Stevens to go to college. But while stocking shelves, he was discovered by a modeling agent and moved to New York. It was a big deal back then, still was, for the area.

Suzie was getting a call when I was off the clock.

I opened the check folder to close out Jack’s bill and thought I’d gone completely mad. His bill was one hundred and twenty dollars, but he left two crisp one hundred dollar bills in the folder. Big tips were nice, but this was excessive.

I
should have just asked her to drinks. Who cared that Tom was standing there? He wouldn’t have. It’s not like he was trying to hook up with her. It’s not what I wanted to do either. I didn’t want to just hook up with her, I wanted to get to know her.

Why didn’t I just ask her then? Where was my confidence? I’ve never hesitated when I wanted to ask a woman out.
She’s bewitched you, dumb-ass, that’s why,
I chided myself. She certainly had.

It wasn’t her looks that had grabbed me either. I saw amazing looking women all day. Nearly naked ones, too. Women who were young and eager to please. Women who’d jump at an opportunity to go out with me.

But she was different. She had an innocence, a sense of adventure, and a confidence, without being brash or snobbish. She was a breath of fresh air. She made me feel comfortable.

A
fter closing out Jack’s bill, Tom let me go since it was so quiet. The night air was cool and refreshing and the Monday night streets were quiet. I started walking up Lexington Avenue and almost immediately I pulled out my cellphone. I brought up Suzie’s phone number and pressed CALL. Three rings and no answer, I got her voicemail. “Hey Suze, it’s me, Liz. I need you to call me when you get this message. It’s about ‘Jackass-Jack. ‘Bye.”

I stuffed my phone back into my purse and, instead of hearing the buzz of traffic, I heard footsteps behind me — like I was being followed. That’s what I get for being on the phone, at night, alone in Manhattan. Listening carefully, the footsteps were definitely a man’s. That much I could discern.

Fighting the urge to look back and give my would-be assailant any upper hand, I tugged my purse under my arm tighter and quickened my pace. To my horror, the footsteps behind me also accelerated. The hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end, and it wasn’t because of the haircut. Was I being chased down the streets of Manhattan by a mugger? Or a rapist? Oh god! I was thinking I had it all together and here I was about to get mugged, or worse!

I was practically running, my heart pounding in my ears, palms sweaty. I was trying desperately to recall the self-defense lessons I had taken with Phoebe before she left for college, when a hand came down on my shoulder. I screamed loudly. Pivoting, keeping my head down, I raised a foot and stomped with all my might on the foot of my attacker.

“Shit!” he said and leapt off of his now injured foot. And it was then that I noticed his extremely polished and expensive looking leather shoes. At the bottom of perfectly pressed trousers. A fancy dressed attacker? I peered up to see a wincing ‘Jackass-Jack.’

“Ohmigod! Jack! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean – I didn’t know – I – I –” There I was, stammering like a fool.

“That’s okay, Beth. I’ve got another foot. Not sure the Pradas can say the same.”

“You wear Prada shoes?” I don’t know why that stunned me, but it did, and suddenly I was laughing. Knowing the ranch where Jack came from and that now he was wearing Prada shoes was an image that sent me into giggle fits.

“You find Prada amusing?” he asked with narrowed eyes and a small smile on his face.

“No… yes… Well, yes. I do. I just think of Prada as being for women, I guess. I’m sorry.”

“Well, you know what this means, don’t you?”

“No,” I said, afraid of his answer. I couldn’t afford a pair of Prada shoes on my tips. I was still uncertain I would be able to pay for rent.

“You owe me a date,” he said quite matter-of-factly.

“Ah, but I’m married, Jack. So, we’ll have to find another manner of compensation for the scuff I’ve left on your shoes,” I said, still giggling that Jack Stevens’, from a poor ranching family in rural Colorado, was wearing Prada.

“Nope. No other way.”

Suddenly I was curious as to why Jack was following me. He’d left the bar a good ten minutes before I had.

“Wait. Why were you following me?” I accused with narrowed eyes of my own.

“Well, I wasn’t really following you.”

“You were walking behind me, but you left before I did.”

“True, but I had actually turned back to Ed Scott’s because I was going to ask you out on a date. Now you owe me one. So, this all kind of worked out.”

“Well, I’m not so sure…”

“How about this. Drinks now, or dinner another night.”

“Jack, I –”

“Would love drinks now? Terrific,” he inserted, effectively cutting me off.

“Oh, no, it can’t be now, I –”

“Dinner then. Excellent I know a –”

“Stop that!” I took the opportunity to interrupt him. I got the feeling from the look on his face that he was not often cut off. I continued, “Drinks –
friendly
drinks – would be nice, but right now I smell like steak and beer. I would love dinner, but a friendly dinner. I am a married woman, remember,” I explained, again waving my rings on my left hand at him.