Exposed by Fate (Serve #2)(3)

She’d met Porter a month ago at Serve when her best friend Caroline convinced her to stop in for a drink. Caroline had met the love of her life that night. Eliza had made a jackass out of herself.

After one dance with Porter that same evening, it had become obvious to her she was in way over her head. He spent a lot of time upstairs at Serve, where certain activities took place, so to speak. Eliza’s idea of an activity was browsing swatches. Still, she’d been excited by his cool demeanor, eager to try something new even if the world of BDSM was completely foreign to her. They hadn’t even made it to the elevator when her nerves had caught up with her. And yeah, it might have had something to do with the burgeoning threesome taking place on a beautifully upholstered chaise longue adjacent to the dance floor. She’d stammered an excuse about needing to find Caroline and ran out, all the while knowing she would regret her cowardice in the morning, which she certainly had.

That night had been her chance to really feel something. To experience a new world outside of her orb of spun glass. She’d come to New York for adventure and so far, she’d only alienated herself from the rest of the population.

Exactly as she’d vowed she would never do. Exactly like— Eliza shook off the dark thought. Since graduating college, she’d been busting her hump, starting as an intern at the prestigious Rothman and Cower Design Firm, before moving higher in the ranks. Now she had exclusive, influential clients who recommended her services to their friends. She had her own office, an assistant, stability. The success she’d always dreamed of. Perhaps she hadn’t quite gotten to the level that would make her a partner one day, but she planned to change that. Soon.

With all the success in her professional life, she should be walking on air. Instead, most mornings she woke up on her living room floor, surrounded by piles of fabric samples, with Cheez-Its stuck in her hair, wondering if achieving her goals meant being lonely. Making a trade-off. Her social calendar was sadly lacking in anything that didn’t pertain to work. Or the new HGTV fall lineup. Eliza needed an outlet. She desperately wanted to feel sexy, desirable. Porter had made her feel that way in spades that first night. Hell, he’d looked at her like she was cherry pie fresh from the oven. She’d come back to Serve after having completed the required paperwork and interview process, only to be stood up by Porter her first time as an official member of the club. Her subsequent humiliation had led to a night of complete and utter intoxication to compensate, courtesy of the club’s creative martini menu.

Not tonight. Tonight, she’d shed her insecurities and come here for an experience. Had it been fate that the first man she’d run into was Porter? She chose to think so and nothing, not even two walruses flogging each other while singing the national anthem, would send her packing. The thought of Porter doing the things to her that she’d read about recently made her feel flushed from head to toe. His hand had moved from her bottom to coast up the small of her back, but she could still feel his touch there.

“Ready to go upstairs?”

Oh Lord, that accent. Eliza nodded once. “Let’s go.”

Porter twined their fingers together. “No standing me up this time?”

“Me? Stand you up?”

When Porter only nodded once, Eliza frowned, ready to point out that he’d been the one to ditch her, when a familiar voice interrupted from behind. “Eliza ‘the sunny bunny’ Ballas, is that you?”

Oliver?

Without another thought, she immediately disengaged her hand from Porter’s, letting it drop. She wanted to kick herself afterwards, but it had been knee-jerk. Not because she felt guilty. Certainly not. But she’d only just gotten comfortable stepping outside of her comfort zone. Someone from her normal, everyday life witnessing that zone-jumping meant sheets of a different thread count. Oliver knew her only as his sister’s studious friend. In her miniscule black dress and red pumps that matched her lipstick, she looked anything but studious. Slowly, she turned to face Oliver.

As it always did when she ran into Caroline’s brother, her stomach flipped a little. Nothing behind it. Just pure female appreciation. Helen Keller herself would have had the same reaction. She knew through Caroline that her brother spent every morning in the gym, hungover or not. That dedication had done him, and every female in the vicinity, a major service. Well-honed muscles drew the eye as they shifted under his shirt, within tailored sleeves. Careless bed-head brought to mind an image of him stumbling out of a hotel room, four shades of lipstick on his collar. In fact, she would lay odds that very scenario had taken place more than once. His smile alone radiated such sensual confidence, it had to be illegal in most states and yet, it didn’t even compare to the look.

Oliver Preston looked at women as though he were already inside them.

So, yeah. It tended to throw a girl off her game.

Unless, of course, you were Eliza and you’d known him for seven years, seen him go through upwards of one hundred short-term relationships and countless one-night stands. Then you would know he looked at every woman the same way, and it meant nothing. Nothing. It was just Oliver being Oliver. Women loved him. Men wanted the name of his personal trainer. He was friends with everyone and committed to no one.

If there was an unusually hard glint in his eye when he nodded at Porter, surely she was imagining it.

“Thought it was you. Looking good, babe.” He came forward and pulled her into a crushing hug. She couldn’t help but compare his scent to Porter’s. Clean and familiar instead of darkly mysterious. Over his shoulder, she met Porter’s eyes with a silent apology.