Kera tapped her fingernails on the tabletop. "So are you, Naomi. I mean, you could tear the flesh from someone's bones with that razor-sharp tongue of yours. Especially recently." To soften her words, she smiled. "Maybe we should get Jennifer's opinion about your tongue. She would know better than any of us."
We stared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter. Tears trickled from the corners of Kera's eyes, she laughed so hard.
"Look," Mel said between chuckles. "The point I'm trying to make here is that you don't like the image of Royce with other women. So there's your answer. You want him all to yourself. So take him before it's too late."
Wise words. Could I do it, though? Risk everything?
"Hey!" Kera exclaimed. "Why don't you take on another client? That'll keep your mind off of Mr. Sexy."
"I can't," I said after swallowing a bite of toast.
"Why not?"
"Royce dictated at the very beginning that I couldn't work on another project while planning his mother's party. Which makes it impossible to bury myself in work." My legs kicked out and rested on the empty seat across from me. "You and I have discussed the menu. I've ordered the flowers, reserved a DJ. I've already ordered some of the decorations and drafted an invitation. There's nothing left to do now except wait for him to contact me once he's back in town."
"Don't wait for him to call. Take the initiative. Pick up the phone and call him. You have his cell-phone number, right?" Mel downed her glass of apple juice. "Men love phone sex."
I rubbed a hand down my face, considering the idea. "You know, before walking into Royce's office, I had my life mapped out. No men. No relationships. Then Royce rocks my world- several times-and it's changing everything. The jerk."
"Yeah, a real bastard." Kera rolled her eyes. "How dare he change your life for the better."
"Hey! Let's TP the asshole's house tonight," Mel suggested. "We haven't done something like that in years."
Grinning, I shook my head. "I am not toilet papering his home."
"Then we're going club hopping tomorrow night and drowning our sorrows in beer and sexy men."
"Now that I can do," I said.
My phone was ringing when I walked into my apartment. I hurried into the kitchen and picked it up. "Hello."
"Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?" my mom demanded.
"Wha-What are you talking about?" How did she know about that?
"There's a picture of you in the Tattler with a very large, very pregnant stomach. The article says you're having triplets. The next words out of your mouth had better be that you're getting married, young lady."
"Mom, I'm not pregnant," I said, wishing I knew the truth of those words. "Nor am I getting married." I wished to God I knew the truth of those words, too. "I've got to let you go now. I'm going to sell all of my vital organs on eBay."
Chapter Fifteen
When the jungle's leaves and bushes are too thick, quickly chop them down so that you can see your path more clearly.
Music blared from speakers hanging overhead. Undulating bodies littered the floor as men and women clanged together. Smoke and chatter wafted all around us. We'd been here only ten minutes and I already wanted to leave.
Why had I agreed to come?
Desperate for a little alone time, I made a quick trip to the ladies' room, where I attempted to force my skirt to elongate. Mel had given me the dress at my non-party. It was short, tight and green, and it barely concealed my ass. I felt like a piece of candy on display at a day care. Worse, I felt as if I had a neon sign around my neck that read Free, Take One.
Several men had already attempted to take me up on the unintentional offer.
The bathroom was growing more crowded, women flocking inside to check their hair and makeup. With a sigh, I maneuvered back to the table and reclaimed my seat. Mel and Kera were surrounded by admirers. Nothing new. Men loved the whole idea of twins. Double the love, or something like that.
Colin stood watch at both girls' sides, frowning at any man who glanced their way. He sometimes looked to the door, as if he couldn't wait to leave. Kera had invited him to join us, much to Mel's chagrin.
Women brushed against him, flirted with him and smiled at him, but he ignored them. And that surprised me. The only woman he seemed to notice was Mel. He didn't just notice her, either. He watched her through eyes filled with longing and desire. Mel pretended not to notice, but she constantly darted stealthy glances his way.
"Colin," Kera said. "Why don't you ask Mel to dance? She could use the exercise."
Mel ignored her and pushed a shot glass in my direction. Her red bangs appeared ultra-bright in the strobe light. Her top was cropped just under her breasts, showcasing her tanned, flat stomach and the tattoo of stars around her belly button. "Drink."
I shook my head no. Ginger ale was my drink of choice tonight-for reasons I wasn't sharing with my cousins. I grabbed onto my half-full (bet you expected me to say half-empty) glass. "I've already got a drink."
"You need alcohol. You look like Death in a Green Dress."
"Then why the hell did you insist I wear this?"
"I thought it would look good on you. I can admit when I'm wrong." She pushed another drink at me, and I shook my head. "If you won't drink, eat something."
My stomach growled at the word eat. I was hungry. Famished, actually. I hadn't eaten since breakfast and the thought of buffalo wings made my mouth water.
I waved the waitress/bartender/whatever the hell she was over and ordered two dozen. The wings arrived soon after. Thick red sauce dripped from each boneless delicacy. I ate the first one slowly, the tangy flavor exploding on my tongue. The rest, well, I shoveled them in like a Hoover. Mel tried to steal one, but in my starved haze, I stabbed her hand with my fork. The men at our table cheered me on.
"Maybe you've had enough, Naomi," Kera said, grinning. "You've got sauce around your lips."
Cheeks reddening, I rubbed my napkin over my mouth. A man chose that moment to scoot in beside me. "What's your name, sugar?" he asked.
Why did men insist on calling women by food endearments? Sugar. Sweet cakes. Honey pie. Richard the Bastard had called me by other women's names. Royce called me sweetheart, as if I actually held a special place in his heart, so it meant something when he did it. I think my inner Tigress would have preferred Sex Goddess of Wet Dreams, though. That had a nice ring to it.
I cast a glance in my new admirer's direction. "You may call me Your Highness," I said. "Or Empress Beauty."
He chuckled. I wasn't kidding.
"I love a woman with a healthy appetite." He leaned into me, pretending he couldn't speak over the loud music. "The way you ate those wings, well, it turned me on. You're not going to run to the bathroom and throw them up, are you? Some women do that."
I studied his face and frowned. He was cute, with brown hair and big puppy-dog brown eyes. He was a little older than most of the other people in the bar, I noticed, which screamed midlife crisis. Suspicious, I peeked at his left hand. His fingers were wrapped around a beer and the beer was resting on the tabletop. Sure enough, his fourth finger possessed the telltale white band left by a ring, where the skin around that symbol of lifelong commitment had tanned. Either he was recently divorced or he'd removed his ring for tonight.
My inner Tigress suddenly roared to life, demanding that I claw out the man's stomach and present it to the women at my table for consumption. Ah, she'd become vicious. I liked that.