Page 49 of Tell Me What You Want

Happy from my time with Miriam, I return to the hotel. When the cab stops at the Hotel Arts’ lovely entrance, I pay the driver, say good night, and get out without realizing there’s a white limo parked to the right.

I’m taking a step toward the hotel when I hear someone calling my name.

“Judith!”

I turn around, and my heart skips a beat. Through the limo window, I see Eric’s stony face; the Iceman indeed. My stomach flips. His mouth gives away how angry he is, and the look he casts at me confirms it. I don’t want it to bother me, but it does. He matters to me. I walk slowly toward the car. He looks me over but doesn’t move. When I get close, I lean in to peer through the window.

“Where were you?” he snarls.

“Having fun.”

An uncomfortable silence encloses us, until I decide to proceed.

“And how was your night? Did you have a good time with Amanda?”

Eric lets out a heavy sigh. His eyes shoot me a scorching look.

“You should have told me where you were,” he snarls again. “I’ve called you a thousand times and ...”

“Mr.Zimmerman,” I say to interrupt him, and my voice is just this side of argumentative, “if I recall, you gave me the option of whether I wanted to dine with you and Amanda ... Don’t you remember?”

He doesn’t respond.

“I simply decided to have as much fun as you, or more,” the little bitch in me says.

That infuriates him. I can see it in his eyes. I look at his hands—his knuckles are white. Suddenly, he opens the limo door.

“Get in,” he demands.

I consider it for a few seconds. Just enough to make him even angrier. In the end, I decide to get in. The truth is, all of me wants him. I close the door. Eric looks at me as if he’s daring me. Without taking his eyes off me, he presses a button.

“Drive,” he says.

The limo starts to move.

“For your information, Miss Flores,” he adds, his jaw still tense, “dinner with Amanda was all business.”

“I hope you had a good time in her company, at least,” I say, not wanting to give an inch.

Eric’s look fries me. Though he’s mere inches from me, he doesn’t move to come closer. A thousand butterflies start fluttering in my stomach.

“I assure you, whether you choose to believe it or not, I would have much preferred your company. But before you continue acting like a spoiled brat, I need to know who you were with and where. I’ve been sitting in this limousine for hours, waiting for you, and I demand an explanation.”

“You’ve been waiting hours for me?”

“Yes.”

“Eric, that’s so sweet,” I whisper tenderly. “I’m sorry. I thought ...”

I notice his shoulders relaxing.

“Well ...,” he says without softening his harsh tone, “I’m Eric again, Miss Flores?”

That makes me smile. Oh, my Iceman. And since he’s already touched the part of me that always falls for him, I move closer. I think his face is relaxing too.

“Eric ... I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just act like an adult. I don’t think it’s too much to ask.”

---