Page 7 of Under His Touch

My gaze flies to hers, and I catch her smirk. “Not funny and not going to happen. Not in a million years.”

Amanda hikes her bag over her shoulder and blows a wet strand of hair from her forehead. “Whatever you say.”

“He doesn’t like me that way.” I laugh but it comes out sounding like a wounded animal on crack. “I’m actually the complete opposite of the women he’s attracted to. Which is fine, because I have zero interest in him either.”

“Good, because he hurt you once, and I don’t want you to set yourself up for that kind of disaster now that you know what kind of man he is.” We push through the locker room door.

“I won’t. Fool me once, fool me twice. I get it.” We walk through the gym, and step out into the warm spring night. Flowers growing in pots outside the storefronts reach my nostrils and we walk down the sidewalk, passing numerous up-and-coming restaurants on the way to our apartment building.

“If he hurts you in any way...” She stops and makes scissor motions with her hands. “I will give him an up close view of his farm parts.”

“Farm parts?” I laugh and shake my head. Not hard to tell she grew up in Texas’s cattle country.

“That’s right. Otherwise known as gonads around these parts,” she says in her best Texas accent.

I laugh and shake my head. “He can’t hurt me if I feel nothing for him. I guess his farm parts are safe.”

“Good.” She gestures with a nod to the phone in my hand. My God, I’m gripping it so hard my knuckles are turning white. “Now, are you going to answer him, or what?” she asks.

I lift the phone and text back.

Megan: Just finished working out. I’ll hit the shower and come over.

Alec: What’s your address? I’ll send a car.

Am I really doing this? Am I giving the man my address, so he can send a car to drive me to his place, where we’ll be all alone? My stomach jumps like I’ve just eaten a handful of Mexican jumping beans. I give him my address and shove my phone into my bag as we make our way inside. We take the stairs to the second floor, and I give Amanda a hug.

“Movie and popcorn tomorrow night?” I ask.

“You bet, and I want all the details from tonight.” She exits the stairwell and I climb to the next floor and enter the apartment right above hers. Amanda moved into this building in Hell’s Kitchen a couple years ago, and now is walking distance to her work. When the apartment above hers became available, I jumped on it, and moved my business to one of the spare offices in her warehouse. It’s nice to have my best friend close. We’re there for each other at a moment’s notice, plus she cooks for me all the time. A good thing, considering I’m pretty lousy at it, and she’s an amazing chef who is always experimenting and in need of a guinea pig.

I step into my apartment, lean against the door. I probably shouldn’t be going to Alec’s place, and should have insisted we meet on neutral ground, but I don’t want him to think he affects me in any way at all. This is a business relationship, and I plan to keep it that way. My bag rolls off my shoulder when I lean forward, bracing myself.

You got this, girl. All you’re doing is finding a wife for the man you once loved. Easy peasy.

On that note, I pull myself up to my full height, and head to the bathroom for a hot shower, even though I should probably take a cold one. Since I have no idea how long his car will take, I soap up quickly and wash my hair. Once done, I give it a fast blow-dry, and pin it to the top of my head in an unflattering mess. I’m not out to impress the man. I’m out to get him married, so I can get my business off the ground.

As I make my way through my small apartment to my bedroom, I can’t help but wonder why James Carson insisted I was the only girl for the job. His words not mine. I hadn’t seen the elderly gentleman in years, and really, how did he even know I was an event planner? He sold me on the job based on the fact that it would get my name out in the right circles, and while this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, there is a part of this whole thing that just doesn’t sit right with me.

I plan numerous weddings, and honest to God, I can tell within five minutes if the couple will make it past the first year. It kind of guts me when I know they won’t. Yeah, it’s true, I’m a romantic at heart. I want people to find love and live happily ever after. I honestly think there’s someone for everyone.

I might not like Alec, but I hate that he doesn’t believe in happily-ever-after and has no problem with a loveless marriage. What the hell happened to him over the years? Back in the day he was the sweetest guy, captain of the football team, and always the big brother to all the guys on the team and everyone in our social circle. I never once thought of him as a brother, though. Not even for a second. Which is why during prom in St. Moritz, compliments of a very generous James Carson, I showed up at Alec’s hotel room door with nothing but a sexy silk nightie on under my coat. We were friends, close as two people could get, and not once had he tried anything sexual with me. I’d decided to make the first move. Heck, maybe he slept with me out of pity, or had too much to drink. All I know is in the morning, he barely spoke to me, and that summer he made himself invisible before he left for Harvard. Maybe all the blame isn’t on him, though. I’m the one who read the situation all wrong. Clearly an intimate relationship wasn’t what he wanted, and my stupid actions ended up ruining a good friendship.

But my God, the way he touched me that night, the heated kisses, hungry caresses and a soft touch to soothe the pain that turned to pleasure as he took my virginity. For a brief second I think about running to my room to use my vibrator, but my doorbell chimes.

Dammit.

I tug on a pair of yoga pants and a comfy Taylor Swift T-shirt, then swipe a streak of pink across my lips. I give myself a once-over in the mirror, grab my purse and laptop bag, and head for my door. I retrace my steps down the stairwell and find a tall man dressed in a suit at the security door, both hands clasped behind his back as he rocks back and forth.

“Megan Williams?” he asks when I step outside.

“Yes, that’s me,” I say, and he holds his hand out and gestures to the sleek, black limousine with its back door open.

“Right this way, Miss Williams,” he says with a smile that instantly puts me at ease. The man has a warm, fatherly presence about him, which suddenly has me missing my own. I was fortunate that my aunt Jeannie—my mom’s sister—and Uncle Dave took me in after my folks died in the car accident. And while I grew close to my cousin Sara, we’re like sisters today, it was never the same as having my own family. I miss that. I want that. Unfortunately, I’ve been working harder, and dating less. I’m not sure there are any decent guys left in Manhattan.

“Call me Megan.” I make my way down the stairs and take in the shiny vehicle that costs more than I make in a year. Yeah, Alec and I really do come from different worlds. But he isn’t so different from my adopted family. Uncle Dave is a very successful stockbroker and his family lived a completely different lifestyle than mine. I slide into the backseat. Alec was so kind and caring back then, and there were nights when I was incredibly sad, and Alec and I would text for hours. There was even that one time when he snuck in through my window, held me in my bed while I cried for the loss of my folks.

I swallow down the memories and stare at traffic as the driver takes me to Alec’s home. Close to thirty minutes later, we’re in New York’s Upper East Side. The car slows in front of a luxury Manhattan apartment. Staring out the window, I crane my neck but can’t see the top of the building.

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