“You are such a liar. Seriously?” she adds when she sees my face.
I nod, and then—damn me—I giggle. “It was one hell of a ride.”
“Oh. My. God.” Her eyes are wide. “Okay, spill. And don’t give me any of that bullshit about privacy or being discreet or a lady doesn’t tell. You’re not your mother. I want the dirt. All of it.”
I comply. Well, not all of it, but I share the high points, starting with our bizarrely cold introduction at Evelyn’s and moving on to the testosterone-laden interchange between Stark and Ollie.
“I haven’t seen Ollie in ages,” Jamie interrupts. “The little shit. Why hasn’t he called?”
She’s not really interested in the answer, though, and urges me to keep going with my tale. I do. My exhaustion has faded along with my reticence. Jamie is my best friend, and it feels good to share, even if I do find myself mumbling and talking in euphemisms once I get to the part of the story that features me, my phone, Stark’s commanding voice, and the backseat of a limo.
“Holy fuck,” she says when I finish. It’s the third time she’s said it during my rundown.
“And I left the panties in the car,” I add. I feel devilish admitting it, even more so when Jamie’s eyes widen and she rocks with laughter.
“Holy fuck,” she repeats, this time with even more enthusiasm. “So he was really in a restaurant the whole time? God, he must have some serious blue balls.”
I experience a little trill of feminine satisfaction at the thought, then frown as another thought occurs to me. “How did he get flowers to me so fast? I was probably home less than ten minutes before they arrived.” It’s weird, the same way him already knowing my home address is odd.
“Who cares?”
It’s a fair point, but I shift around on the couch so that I can see the kitchen table and the flowers. My smile blooms wide again.
“You need to toss some condoms in your purse,” Jamie says.
“I what?”
“I’ve got a box in the bathroom. Take a few. Phone sex is the only safe sex there is, girlfriend, and he may be hot, but you don’t know where that boy’s been.” Her mouth twitches with suppressed laughter. “Or who he’s been in.”
The thought is disturbing on multiple levels, not the least of which is the unpleasant twang I feel at the thought of Damien Stark in bed with another woman. I push that aside and focus on the practical. “I don’t need condoms,” I say, “because I’m not sleeping with him.”
“Nikki,” she says, and even though she’s my best friend, I can’t tell if that’s a plea in her voice or pity.
“Don’t start,” I say. “I’m not you.”
“Which is good, as the world can only take so much awesomeness.” She grins at me, but I’m not in the mood. After a moment, her grin fades and her shoulders drop a little. “Look, you know I love you, and I’ll always be on your side, no matter what.”
“But?”
“But think about why you came to Los Angeles.”
“I came for business.” I say it because it’s true. I want to learn from Carl. I want to find investors for the web-based app I’ve been developing. And then, once I’m confident I have the chops to actually run a business, I want to dive into the deep end of the pool.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m talking about Damien Stark. You could do a lot worse than him if you’re looking for a fresh start.”
I shake my head. That whole new life, new Nikki thing doesn’t apply where getting naked with Damien Stark is concerned. “Not going there,” I say firmly. “The limo was amazing, but it was on my terms. In person, all I’d be is a notch on his bedpost, and that’s your gig, not mine.”
“Ha! Well, you nailed me. But the rest of it is total bullshit.”
“Excuse me?”
“You don’t want him putting his hands all over you, fine.” I wince at the way she’s zeroed in on my personal neurosis. “But own up to it, Nik. Because I wasn’t even at that party and I can tell that he thinks of you as more than a piece of ass.” She waves at the flowers. “Exhibit A.”
“So he’s a polite bazillionaire. It’s not like delivering flowers took more than a phone call. They probably came fast because he has a standing order for flower delivery after all his phone sex encounters.” I’m being snarky, but as I speak I realize I’m probably right. The thought is not a happy one.
“No way. He wants you. Your snark. Your attitude. I mean, he flat out told you that you’re not like the usual women on his arm. I Googled him, you know.”
I blink at the non sequitur. “You did not. When?”