Breaking His Rules Page 5

  “That’s so kind of you. The school supplies for low-income kids, not the tax exemption, that is.”

  “Oh no, it’s the least I could do. I’ve lived in Detroit my whole life.”

  “Kind of rough growing up here, right?”

  “You’re not kidding. Where did you grow up?”

  I stiffened. More reflexive than anything. I wasn’t used to talking about anything. Hell, we could have stayed on my intolerance for spicy food all night for all I cared. It was in the rules. No trips down memory lane or family talk. That kind of thing blurred the line. “On the East Side. I was just across 8 Mile Road in Roseville.” Hell…I bit the bullet.

  “Well, I don’t have to tell you, that’s not Detroit.” She giggled.

  “Close enough. My father got a job in a factory when I was eleven—” I stopped myself, almost giving away my family secrets. In a minute I was going to have to start making new rules just for those times when I lost track of good sense. Escape clauses, if you will.

  “Oh, like most dads, right?”

  “Yeah. So, I don’t mean to take advantage of your kindness. Didn’t you mention earlier that you had to work this evening?”

  “Oh…yeah, but they flex my time when I need to. The place is open until two in the morning after all.” It was her turn to stiffen. I wondered whether she was holding back info, too. Probably not. Maybe just a reaction to being late for work.

  “Still. I should get going.” Because there’s no way to know what else I’d spill tonight.

  “Oh, okay. Well, I’m glad you don’t have a traumatic brain injury.” Her mouth twisted into a smirk that was downright devilish and made parts of me vibrate with need.

  “It was nothing but grace that kept you from killing me this evening.” The titter of laughter washed over us.

  “Clearly. But I do still need to make good on my offer. Hang on a sec.” Terra stood, smoothing her hands over the flat front of her pants, then walked down a darkened hallway and turned in to a room. The light went on, then off as she reemerged with a small card in her hand. “Here you go.”

  I had been trying not to show how excited I was to be getting her telephone number. I wanted to see her again. Besides, I hadn’t actually broken any rules just yet. I was able to keep my wits about me and had even been alone in her house, and even more miraculous, there’d been only minimal flirting. Dear god, I don’t know how I managed it. “Thank you. I’ll call you once I stop the bonfire going on in my stomach.”

  “Wow, I think that’s probably the first time someone has responded to me handing them my phone number with tales of their digestive struggle.”

  “First time for everything, I guess.”

  The realization that I hadn’t managed to woo her slammed into me. I seized the moment to make my escape because I was not myself. I stood and headed to the living room to recover my keys from the table, then made a beeline for the door. I wasn’t even smooth around her. She was following me. I could smell her heavenly scent and hear her feet padding across the wood floor behind me, creaks and all. “Terra, it’s been lovely. And next time I see you, I hope it’s not for me to convalesce on your couch.” I turned to face her once I reached the back door. Standing aside, I let her unlock it and hold it open for me.

  “Yeah, I hope I don’t have to ever pummel you again,” she said. That twinkle in her eyes was back and it made me want to kiss her full on her supple lips. I didn’t, though. Instead, I lifted one of her hands to my mouth and gently kissed it.

  “Good evening, Terra. Until we meet again.”

  When I looked at her once more, she was blinking, hard. A gasp escaped as she pulled her hand back and stared at me. “Good night, Ashton.” Oh yeah, she was for sure into having someone kiss her hand. If that was enough to elicit a reaction from her, I wondered what she’d do when I got to those undoubtedly lovely feet of hers.

  Grabbing the doorknob, I gave her a wink and left. I headed for my car, taking another glance at her fancy sports car. Terra was truly full of surprises. Some things she’d said and done left questions in my mind—more about myself than her. That was obviously not a good sign.

  Hopping into my car, I backed carefully out of her garage, left the parking lot, and wondered, is this woman—someone who could motivate me to get my ass up out of the bar, chase her onto the street, and then lounge on her couch for hours after she’d walloped me—one I should go on another date with? The thought of her skin—soft flesh covering miles of legs and dangerous curves, even down to her feet—sent shockwaves through me. But was physical attraction enough to quench the warning signals?

  I was a bachelor, after all. Bona fide. There was nothing in my soul that wanted to settle down. Let alone disappoint someone who was probably, maybe looking for something long term. Of course, I hadn’t asked her. But then again, did I really need to? Some man would love to have Terra Elizabeth Ellis. Hell, I would love to have her. But she wasn’t the type of woman who would take my shit and roll with it. I knew it. With everything inside me, I knew I wasn’t the type of guy she needed.

  And I should have been fine with that. But I wasn’t, actually.

  Chapter 4

  Terra

  Four days later, I was convinced he wasn’t calling. And who could blame him? I managed to coldcock one of the most interesting men I’d met in a long time. He was probably all wrong for me, but I wasn’t very good at dating in the first place. If I could manage to just turn off my heart, I could at the very least have friends with benefits.

  “Why am I getting Meghan Markle meets Prince Harry vibes from this story?” Gloria had those Lifetime-movie stars in her eyes, and I swear nearly swooned.

  “I don’t know. Maybe you’re a sap for a good prince-meets-girl story?” I laughed along with her after I’d shared the whole story, which was actually kinda funny in retrospect.

  With a wave of her hand, she swatted away my cynicism, like she always did. “So, did you tell him anything about your…past?” Gloria was honestly concerned about my getting involved with someone else. Who could blame her? I hadn’t had the best track record.

  “You mean about the club? Or about my ex-husband?”

  “Yeah…both,” she said. Gloria took a drink from her glass of Chardonnay and winked at me.

  “No, I didn’t.” I drank the last of my wine and blew out a long sigh before continuing. “Too soon to tell him I own a club. And I for damn sure can’t traverse the subject of Marcus. I already nearly knocked his block off. I’m going to steer clear of those subjects just to be sure I keep my demons at bay.”

  Gloria reached over and poured me another glass of wine. I’d gone through mine faster than she had. On a Thursday afternoon, I had a little time before Ivy opened. Besides, the manager I’d hired was quite capable of handling things until I got there.

  “The club isn’t a demon. It’s profitable. You need to know the difference, sweetie. You just don’t want someone else with dollar signs in his eyes. Men shouldn’t be more interested in your bank account than in you,” she said.

  “It’s not like Soar, all prime and proper,” I said, motioning around the classy place she’d created in the heart of the city. There wasn’t any stigma associated with owning a restaurant. There was with a bar. People thought all types of things about the nightclub scene, and even worse about their owners. Specifically, about their female owners. “He didn’t seem to be hurting for money. Still, I’d just rather wait until I get to know people better to tell them about my assets. Anyway, if anyone wants to know who I am, all they have to do is google me.”

  “Well, I think it’s a good thing that you don’t consider everyone your next great love affair. I mean, Mr. BDE sounds cute. He’s a good distraction from everything else. You don’t have to hand your heart over to date someone.”

  “I know, and he seems like such a ladies’ man, right
? I mean, you said he’s been here before on a Sunday afternoon, doing what?” I swallowed hard, not sure if I should have even been asking that question. It honestly wasn’t my business.

  Gloria looked down at her glass and took a drink before she answered. “He was talking to women, every time I saw him. But that doesn’t mean anything. He could be emotionally unavailable. But it sounds like you are, too, if you don’t mind my saying so. Nothing wrong with avoiding relationships together, right?”

  I had to laugh. So did she. It was getting dark outside and I would have to leave shortly, but I rarely had a chance to sit down with friends. Especially on a Thursday. I was usually at the club, but on a suggestion from Gloria, I’d hired someone to handle the day to day. Brice was reliable and kind. For the last two years he’d been proving himself as my bar manager. As much as I hated to admit it, I trusted him. My trust was something that took a long time, because it had to be earned the hard way. “Gloria, you are so funny. But right. I can’t even tell you the thoughts I had about that cute white boy.”

  “I can imagine. It’s been a while since we talked about men. Well, on your end, but I think this would be good for you. You don’t get engaged to have dinner and a movie. Or a DVD and oral.”

  I nearly spit my wine out. Gloria was a refined lady. She rarely even cursed. Much like her restaurant, she exuded class. “You do know people don’t watch DVDs anymore, right?” I glanced at her over my glass while taking another sip and she looked honestly taken aback.

  “Who says? I have a million movies in my den that say different,” she shot back.

  We were seated in Soar near the windows. It was quitting time downtown and people were hustling by, heading to their cars and waiting shuttles to get back to their park-and-ride site. Her restaurant sat at one of the busiest intersections, near Campus Martius Park, prime real estate that probably wouldn’t have been available had she waited just another couple of years to leave the healthcare industry to open Soar. She had encouraged me to follow my dreams and open Club Ivy. While the first location had failed, the move to another area downtown and revamping the image with a raw, edgy style paid off. The second time, it was Marcus who was trying to take it all away. The bastard. He was the whole reason I had trust issues. And a damned good reason at that.

  “Just throw them away, girl. But yeah, all this is null and void because—hello!—he hasn’t called.” I glanced around the restaurant because I didn’t want to be overheard sounding so…desperate.

  “Honey, if you want to talk to him, why don’t you call him up then?” Gloria clenched her hands together, like she did whenever she was concerned.

  “Such an easy solution, but I didn’t exactly get his phone number,” I said. I ran my fingers through my hair to push it all out of my face. I was annoyed with everything, and taking it out on my hair was obviously the only solution. “I don’t know why I’m talking about this dude anyway. He is so not what I need to spend my time on.”

  “I know why,” she said, the smirk letting me know it would be completely filthy. “It was his BDE. You wanna tap that.”

  I laughed so loud the customers at the table in the back—the only ones in the restaurant before the predinner rush—all glanced up in my direction. “You are sick, but yes, yes I do.”

  “I knew it. You’re gonna get some, you’re gonna get some…” Gloria sang, raising her glass. We toasted because wrong for me or not, he had been a gentleman. He had tried to help me with Mr. Handsy. Probably just lost my number or forgot, since he technically had a closed-head injury.

  Whatever it was, if he called and if I chose to pursue something (sex or otherwise), I would. I was a grown-ass woman and I didn’t have to equate sex with love and marriage. I could simply enjoy a man’s company without any strings attached. Whatever that meant or looked like, if that’s what I wanted, then that’s what I would get.

  We finished off that bottle of wine, which was technically only four standard wineglasses, so it wasn’t that much. At least, that’s what we told ourselves. I was giving her a hug good night when I felt the phone in my pocket vibrate. I chose not to even look at it until I was in the car. Gloria and I promised we would never allow our busy lives and work to get in the way of our friendship, which prompted the no-cellphones clause when we were hanging out. No one ever called me anyway, unless it was about the bar. I had only a few friends, and most of them were married with children. I’d speak to them maybe once a month. I pulled away from Gloria and leaned on the hostess stand near the front door. “Thanks for the wine,” I said, holding up the Ethiopian Syrah that I loved. She’d ordered it for me because most local stores didn’t carry it. “I’ll save it for a special occasion.” With a wink, I was turning around to head out into the late fall night.

  “Yes, like sex. Call me tomorrow, honey. And happy belated birthday. Even if you don’t celebrate it, I do,” she said to my back.

  I was still laughing at her dirty sense of humor as I stepped into the cool air. The wind was crisp on my face. Once on the street, I walked to my car near the millenary, got in, and started it with the push-start ignition. I’d have to put it away for the winter months and start using my Wrangler. Winters in Detroit we’re becoming more and more snow-ridden.

  Since there was quite a bit of traffic getting onto Woodward from Howard Street, I sat for a second before pulling my cell from my purse to check for any messages. Someone had called from a number I didn’t recognize and left an actual message. I would have thought that was a long-lost art form. Navigating to the voicemail screen, I hit the speakerphone to hear what they’d said.

  “Hello…It’s Ashton Lyle. I was calling to let you know I’ve only just been released from the hospital.” A jolt of panic shot through my body and I gripped the phone a bit tighter. “Just kidding. I was just hella busy at work. Anyway, just wondering if you wanted to grab a bite to eat one of these days. I could come round your place to pick you up in repayment of my debt to you. You see, I was extremely grateful to you for not leaving me on the pavement to bleed to death. It was decent of you. Anyway, this is my number, right there in your missed calls. I hope you use it, love.”

  Warmth radiated throughout my body. I couldn’t recall the last time a simple call from a man gave me a visceral reaction. The flush slowly burned over my cheeks and I wondered how long I should wait to call him back.

  What had I resolved in Soar? There was nothing wrong with having friends…with benefits. I picked up my phone and hit call back beneath the message he’d left. The phone rang a couple of times, then a couple more times. Usually that meant it was going to voice—

  “Ashton, here,” he practically growled into the phone. It wasn’t his normal, cool voice. It was somehow sexier, deeper.

  “Hi, Ashton. Um…Terra here,” I said. Oh God, what a doter.

  “Yes, you are, aren’t you? So glad you called me back on this lovely Thursday evening. I was beginning to think you were only being nice to me to avoid a civil lawsuit for the assault you inflicted on me last weekend,” he said. I tried hard to imagine his face as he spoke. Was he grinning in that boyish way of his?

  “No, I figured you wouldn’t sue. You got what you wanted, after all.”

  “Not actually. I was after so much more than your phone number. But it’ll do. I think you’re funny, and for some reason, after sex women stop being funny with a man. The dynamic shifts a bit, or so I’m told.”

  “Well, I don’t know. I’ve never bedded a woman before,” I quipped.

  “Oh, touché, Terra. So listen, I’d love to take you out for a proper meal. Are you working tonight?”

  I was, but I could ask Brice to cover for me. He was always telling me to live a little, right? I knew I shouldn’t have, but I replied, “I was, but I think I’ll have a friend cover my shift tonight.”

  “Damn. I was hoping to see you in that uniform again.”

 
“Is it only sex you think about, or are you working through all the one-liners from Mad Men?”

  “Damn. You’ve discovered my secret. I downloaded the whole series on my smart TV. What time shall I pick you up, Terra Ellis?”

  “Not so fast. Where are we going for this proper meal?” I asked, mimicking his accent. I adored his accent. I guessed it had been muddled with midwestern from all his years in Michigan, but it took off a bit of the formal Brit edge. Somehow it was softer. Hotter.

  “I was thinking we could have a nice Cuban meal. I know a place where they do salsa, the proper way.”

  “Oh, you’re telling me you know how to salsa? You can’t.”

  “Why would you say something like that? Oh, because I’m a white boy.”

  “No, not at all. It’s because one who knows how to salsa knows ain’t nothing proper about it. Pick me up in an hour. And bring your dancing shoes, Ashton Lyle.”

  I ended the call, and for the first time since before I was married, I was genuinely excited about a date. I could feel it in my stomach, blooms of warmth radiating throughout my body. It was a fantastic feeling.

  Back at home, I called Brice to take over for me at Club Ivy, took the fastest shower of my life, pinned my hair up with loose tendrils, and slipped on a fitted satin dress with spaghetti straps in the most fantastic cherry red, then added a blush lip stain to top it all off. A flower in my hair was too over the top, so I took it out. Right about then, the doorbell rang and I sprinted off to answer it.

  I needed a beat to stop my heart from racing. It’d been so long since I’d felt the nervous energy surrounding an impending date. It was…good. Like an old friend coming to visit. I stepped into my milk chocolate–toned Christian Louboutins—his height advantage was sick—but left them unfastened to avoid making him wait too long at the front door. But when I got there, I second-guessed myself and waited another second or two, not wanting to seem too eager. On a sharp inhale, I opened the door.