Exposed by Fate (Serve #2)(25)

Sheesh. Eliza tried to look at the ceiling, but her gaze kept returning to the passionate couple. Was it acceptable to be turned on by your friends’ frequent, often inappropriate public displays of affection? Cause, she kind of was.

Finally, Jonah pulled back. After a long, meaningful look at Caroline, he sent Eliza a wink. “Hey, you. We have business to discuss.”

She saluted him with her empty glass. “I’d be happy to redecorate the brownstone, as long as you’re aware I’ll be upping your fee for traveling to Brooklyn.” She smiled to let him know she was joking. “Although if we’re talking kid friendly, not making out in front of her might be a good place to start.”

“We’re working on it,” Caroline said, sounding a little dazed. “We could probably work harder.”

Jonah smiled indulgently, but it dimmed when his gaze landed on something just beyond her shoulder. Eliza turned to find Porter standing at the velvet rope, his attention trained on her. Dressed in all black, he looked unbelievable. Like he’d just stepped off the pages of some European yacht advertisement. Not a stitch of clothing or hair out of place. Every time she’d been in the vicinity of him since they’d met, she’d always felt a tickle of lust in her belly. This time, the appreciation seemed to be more objective than anything. Odd, since she’d never seen him looking hotter.

A shot of urgency invaded her musings when she remembered Caroline knew they’d been on a date. But she didn’t know Oliver had nixed it. If Porter mentioned what happened in front of Caroline, she would have a hundred follow up questions Eliza had no desire to answer. Quickly, she hopped to her feet, swaying a little under the influence of five sake bombs and a martini.

Porter offered his arm for balance, and she took it. “Hey. Hi.”

Smooth.

“Eliza,” he returned in his even, cultured voice. “Out for a few drinks, are we?”

“A few might be a slight under exaggeration.” She held her fingers up in the international symbol of just a pinch. “I had a long work week and figured I earned it.”

“I see.” His gaze swept her head to toe. “Pity you drank so much. I would have liked to continue what we started last week. Need you a touch more sober for that, I’m afraid.”

“I would have liked that too,” she responded, a little flustered over his bluntness. If she sounded less-than-convinced, it had to be the alcohol. “Soon, I hope.” After I finish my lessons with Manhattan’s most eligible bachelor, and I’m pawned off on you like a college student graduating into the work force.

The imagery hit her like an open-handed smack. Made her feel as if Oliver had already left her. Feeling the sudden need to prove she’d be fine once that happened, Eliza tossed her hair over her shoulder and gave Porter what she hoped was a seductive look. “I’m really looking forward to it.”

He swirled the amber liquid contained in the rocks glass he held, considering her with a discerning look. “Something is different about you.”

Eliza squashed the urge to tug her dress down. “Here’s hoping you find out what it is.”

He leaned in close, and she caught a whiff of his spicy, designer cologne. Good Lord, the man smelled like pleasure. It was almost criminal. “Whatever it is, I like it.” He grazed his stubbled cheek against hers, making goose bumps break out along her skin. “Soon, Eliza.”

She nodded once to let him know she’d heard him but didn’t trust herself to speak. Not because she was overwhelmingly turned on, even if she could admit to feeling a definite spark of heat in her stomach. No, she couldn’t speak because her chest felt compressed, like it did before a crying jag.

She actually felt…guilty. Almost as if she’d been doing something wrong by flirting with Porter. That simply, simply wouldn’t do. No more thinking about Oliver and how he didn’t merely produce a spark inside her, he set off a wealth of firecrackers. Every time she compared Porter to Oliver, she was setting herself up for a huge fall. This is good. This is a wake-up call.

Or she could just call it off. Right now. Tonight.

Refusing to explore the empty, gaping pit that notion opened in her stomach, Eliza turned on a heel and sat back down on the lounger. She ignore the curious looks both Jonah and Caroline gave her, accepting a fresh drink from the waitress. “So. Let’s talk color scheme.”





Chapter Eleven


Oliver wore a tux like a motherf*cker.

Call him arrogant, call him whatever you like. At age eight, he’d been tapped to play ring bearer at his aunt’s wedding. He’d slipped the jacket on in front of the hotel’s full length mirror and felt like he’d finally become a man. Then he’d promptly called for his mother to help him fix the bow tie.

Tonight, he really needed the confidence provided by his favorite form of attire, because over the course of the week, he’d started to feel very un-Oliver. He’d passed two nights at the office, working overtime on the scholarship program in his mother’s name. The perfect applicant had even come across his desk. Francesca De Luca from Queens. Frankie for short. She lived in a two-bedroom house with her uncle and drove a cab for a living, attending night class at the local community college when she could, not the usual course of education for someone who’d scored sixteen hundred on their SATs. At age twenty-four, she’d only managed to accumulate one third of the credits she needed for a business degree.