Page 3 of Body

Fat chance.“I’ll think about it.”

He tilts his head in a way that makes me believe he’s never been let down by a woman before. He probably hasn’t. It would take a certifiable woman to turn down a romp with this sexy stranger, but I’m living for tomorrow, not today. A slow grin slides across his face. He leans forward and places both hands tentatively on my biceps. It takes everything I have not to panic. I instigate touching. It is part of my coping mechanism. I close my eyes as he leans close and kisses my cheek.

Sandalwood and citrus permeate the air around his large frame. God he smells good. Chase whispers in my ear. “Until we meet again.” Then he drags his lips along the side of my chin before he pulls away. I could melt on the spot. He winks, then turns on his heel and walks back to the bar.

***

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

The internal rant runs in a constant loop as I pull off my heels and chuck them across the room. Poor, beautiful shoes. They don’t deserve such treatment, but I have to get the aggression out somehow. The need to smack my head against a hard surface is very appealing at this moment. It is concussion or shoe abuse.

Ugh,why can’t I just be normal? Walk into a bar. Sit down. Have a drink. Meet a beautiful man. Flirt. He asks you out. That’s how that meeting with Chaseshouldhave gone. But no. Not for Gigi Callahan, the broken girl from San Francisco. The man makes one overtly sexual suggestion, and I crumble into a weeping willow. Worse, I scamper off like a frightened little puppy. I should have stayed and given it back to him in spades.

It’s not as if I’m a prude or a saint. I’ve been approached sexually plenty of times. Even considered it a time or two. But with him, it was as if I couldn’t get my brain together long enough to put two sentences together. My lack of a filter egged him on, gave him the green light. He probably beds a different woman each night. With a face and body like an Adonis, who wouldn’t want to fall into his bed? Hell, if I wasn’t such a scaredy cat, I’d be scratching at his leg right now begging for a petting.

Chase.Just thinking about him has my stomach in knots and my panties moist.Arrrgggghhhhh.

I flop down on the bed and stare at the ceiling in defeat. When am I going to learn how to control my fears? Doesn’t matter. I’m here to focus on my work with Safe Haven and that’s it. Though, maybe if I do unto others, eventually someone good will do unto me. Like someone tall with dark hair, ocean blue eyes, and warm hands.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

My cell phone buzzes on the end table, bringing me out of my reverie. It’s my roommate. Thank God!

“Ria! I’m so glad you called,” I screech into the phone.

“Mi Amiga!What’s wrong? You don’t sound like yourself.”

Maria De La Torre is one of my best female friends, and my roommate. We’ve been through hell and back and own matching t-shirts. Over the years, we’ve grown especially protective of one another. Her love and support got me through many nights full of tears and self-loathing. I’ve been her rock just as many times. Together, and with a great deal of therapy, we’ve learned to cope and be more open about our feelings. I’m still closed off, but there are a select few people in my world I trust. Maria is one of them.

“Girl, I met a man.” I sigh into the phone, disgusted with myself.

“So why do you sound like your dog just died?” She laughs.

“I don’t know. This man is different. He’s intense…” Intense is an understatement.

Maria sighs over the line. “Gigi, don’t tell me you met another bastard who just wants to get into your pants? I mean, you’re pretty bangin’ but you have to stop attracting thesepedazos de mierda!”

I laugh. She thinks all men arepieces of shit.Useless. Her use of Spanish intermingled with English makes her incredibly endearing. It’s unique to her, and it’s taught me quite a lot about the language.

“He’s not like that. Well, actually I don’t know much about him other than he’s hot. When I say he’s hot, I’m talking movie star quality,People’s“Sexiest Man Alive” kind of hot. Women everywhere probably drop their panties without question for him.” He probably knows it, too. Smug bastard.

She giggles. “Nice. So are you going to?”

“Am I going to what?”

“Drop your panties for him, silly.” Her laughter gets louder, laced with a “duh” tone.

“No! I met him, had a conversation with him and then ran off. I completely embarrassed myself. I doubt he’d want to see me again.” It’s true. Besides, if he knew my past, he’d take that sexy suit wearing Superman body of his in the opposite direction.

“Cara Bonita, no. I’m sure you didn’t.” I cringe. She has always called me “beautiful face.” It’s her personal pet name. She busts out with the endearment when she feels I’m down or need encouragement. “Did he ask you out or ask for your phone number?”

A spark of hope glitters in the distance. “Well, yes, kind of. He gave me his business card with his cell phone number on the back. Asked me to call him.” Technically he did give me the card after the idiot behavior, so maybe he is interested. What does that say about him though? I acted like a complete wack-a-doo, but he did make an overture as if he was soliciting me. That was uncalled for too.

“See, obviously there was something there. Are you going to?” She sounds hopeful. “You deserve a little fun while you’re in Chicago. Besides, when was the last time you got laid, anyway?” Her question is rhetorical. She knows it’s been months.

“Ria! I just met him. You’re suggesting I fall into bed with him?” The girl has no limits. Though I can’t say the thought didn’t wiggle its way into my mind, especially when he loosened that silver tie, exposing a stimulating patch of skin.

“Yes, I am. You need to get fucked!”

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