My Prerogative Read online

  “What’s wrong? Why are you up so early?”

  I bit my lip. I’d called her for a reason. No time to button up now. “I need you to tell me again that fucking a guy the night you meet him isn’t the way to start a real relationship.”

  “Kels!” Dee’s exasperation was clear in her voice.

  “What?” I snapped defensively. “Sometimes it just can’t be helped. And I didn’t really fuck him . . . it was more of an ‘I put on a show for him’ type of thing.” And now I’m sure as hell not going to tell you how we met!

  “Start from the beginning,” she said.

  Now that I had her attention I wasn’t sure how much to tell her. Sure, she was my best friend and she knew I wasn’t innocent when it came to guys—that I had casual lovers and one-night stands instead of boyfriends and real relationships—but I was feeling vulnerable, like an idiot. Part of me worried that if she knew how far I was willing to go for satisfaction, she might judge me.

  Sure we both worked in the same industry, and she understood how easy it was to love people and hate them all at the same time, but she worked in a pub, not a nightclub. And she was married, and settled. She hadn’t been part of the single lifestyle for a long time.

  And if she judged me . . . and found me lacking I wasn’t sure I could take it.

  “Kelsey? Are you still there?”

  “I’m here.”

  As if she knew what I was thinking she spoke with a firm voice, tinged with love. “Spill it, girl. You know you can tell me anything.”

  “Ah, it’s nothing.” I gave my head a shake. “There’s a guy who lives across the street from me, a really hot guy, and I think we have some sort of connection. Or at least I thought we did, and I’m a bit worried that I might have fucked it up last night when I invited him over and masturbated for him.”

  I held my breath waiting for her reaction.

  “You masturbated for him, and then he left?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s a new one, even for you.”

  What did that mean? “Yeah, I guess.”

  “See, this is exactly what I meant. If you didn’t want to be single, you wouldn’t do things like that. You’d go for coffee or to dinner, like normal people.”

  That hurt. “What? I’m not normal?”

  “And this morning you’re thinking you might want a relationship with this guy?” A car honked in the background but Dee carried on without answering me. “Are you freaking serious?”

  “You’re driving, I should let you go.”

  Frustration clear in her voice Dee said, “I’m not driving, I’m sitting on the fucking freeway which is down to one lane because of an accident. So take my mind off of it, tell me what’s special about this guy.”

  “Nothing’s special,” I lied. “I don’t know what I was thinking, forget I mentioned it at all.” No way in hell was I going to tell her he’d been watching me Rear Window style and I felt like we had some sort of kinky connection.

  That wouldn’t be normal.

  “You sure?” she asked.

  “Yeah. It was an erotic adventure, nothing more.”

  A heavy sigh echoed over the phone line. “You and your adventures.”

  Silence hung between us for a few seconds. It never used to bother me when people didn’t understand the things I did or my choices in life. Now it did, and that bothered me.

  Whatever.

  “Yeah,” I said with forced cheerfulness. “I should let you go, you’re on your way to work and I think I’m going to head back to bed.”

  “Okay, girl. If you’re sure. I should get off the phone anyway, the traffic is starting to move again.”

  We said our good-byes and I hung up, not feeling any better.

  I did my hair and layered on the eyeliner before going to my room to dig through my dresser drawer for something to wear. Ten minutes later I wore my swishy black skirt and a white tank top with black tribal-like tattoos along the neckline.

  I’d always had a thing for art, and tatts were certainly a form of art I appreciated. Yet, I’d never gotten one. The thought of something so permanent on my body was too unsettling. Sure I had piercings, but they were dual-purpose. For beauty and pleasure. And they could be removed at any time. The same couldn’t be said for tattoos.

  So for a while I did the next best thing, I picked up some clothing paints, and started hand painting my own clothes. It wasn’t the same as having real tattoos, but at the same time I could be more daring. After all, big black tribal tatts along my collarbone and chest would not look good when dressed for a wedding.

  Mind you, if I ever found a design or symbol I knew I’d never tire of, I’d probably find a place to get it inked in and fuck looking good in a fancy dress.

  I’d really enjoyed the painting, and had even briefly considered creating my own business around it. Vancouver was full of creative arts people, and I’d sold several hand painted pieces to friends and coworkers at the club. But in the end, I’d decided that just because I was good at it, didn’t mean it was the right career move for me.

  Now I painted clothes as gifts occasionally, and for myself, but that was it.

  With thougths of gifts and fancy dresses in mind I called Ariel and told her I was picking her up for a quick shopping trip.

  An hour later, I sat at the curb in front of Joe’s Pizza and watched Ariel say good-bye to someone inside and then head toward me.

  If you looked beyond the clothes and makeup, you could tell we were sisters. Cut from the same cloth, so to speak, with fine black hair, green eyes, and similar builds. But that was where the similarities ended. Ariel was an accountant and bookkeeper for several small local businesses and liked to dress in professional skirts and slacks, button-up blouses, that sort of thing. I was the pierced bartender who liked to wear skimpy black clothes, drink, and tell dirty jokes.

  Ariel kept her hair in a short bob, her makeup minimal, and always had a smile for everyone. She was cute, and sickeningly sincere. It was hard not to love her, especially when I knew she’d do anything for me.

  “You’re up early,” she said when she climbed into my car.

  “It’s ten thirty. I’m usually up around now.” If around meant in another hour.

  “Up maybe, but not dressed, out the door, and looking somewhat human. No, this is not the norm for you, my sister. What’s up?”

  “I have a friend I want you to meet,” I said as I pulled away from the curb and headed toward Samair’s new storefront just off King Edward Drive.

  Her voice rose an octave in excitement. “A man?”

  “No!” I snapped in surprise. “What would make you think that?”

  “I don’t know. Something’s different about you this morning.” She narrowed her eyes at me and I concentrated on the road.

  After a moment of silent scrutiny she spoke again. “There is a man, isn’t there?”

  Was there? Was Harlan really a man in my life?

  Something thumped against the inside of my rib cage in reply. My heart. Okay, so he was in my life, but for how long? I had no fucking clue what was happening between us. Just the idea that something was happening was enough to make my pulse race and my palms sweat. However, like Val had taught me, I needed to be strong, and that meant not hiding . . . even from myself.

  “There might be,” I said cautiously. “I just met him, and it’s a pretty . . . unusual situation, but yeah, I think I like him.”

  Yeah, way to jinx yourself, Kelsey.

  “Unusual how? He’s not someone you picked up at the bar is he? You know that will never last. Those guys like Kelsey the party girl bartender, they don’t even care about getting to know you.”

  “No, he’s not from the bar. Look, I’m not sure exactly what the hell is going on, so I’d rather not talk about it, okay?”

  “Okay.” A slow grin spread across Ariel’s face and she sat back in her seat, looking smug.

  That was too easy.

  Traffic was minimal and
finding Samair’s storefront was relatively simple. Parking would’ve been a bitch but Samair had said to go around the back. As I drove up the alley the silence in the car made me finally snap. “What?”

  “I didn’t say anything,” Ariel replied.

  “You don’t have to. I can feel your brain working from over here. So just say what you have to say.” I turned off the car and opened my door to get out, talking as I moved.

  Ariel followed. “I’ve just never seen you so worked up over a guy before.”

  “I’m not worked up. I didn’t even say anything about him!”

  “That’s just it, Kelsey. You’ve never been shy with me about your men before. In fact, you usually delight in shocking me with your stories.” I pulled open the heavy fire door and we entered the back of Samair’s shop. We were in a small corridor and Ariel continued to talk as we walked. “The fact that you don’t want to talk about this guy means he’s special.”

  “Who’s special?”

  We’d reached the end of the corridor and Samair was standing there with a grin. “The hallway is like a megaphone, I could hear everything. Who’s special?”

  I groaned and fought the urge to stamp my foot on the ground. “No one is special. My sister is just making nothing into something. Samair, this is my sister Ariel Howard, soon to be Ariel Harrison. Ariel, meet Samair Jones, designer extraordinaire. She’s got some sketches for your wedding dress I want you to check out.”

  The two women exchanged greetings while I glanced around the shop. Even though it was my first time there, I was pretty familiar with Samair’s work. When she and Val had first gotten together, she’d held an exotic lingerie show at the club that had made me drool. I’d purchased a corset that night, one that looked great, and felt great even after a shift behind the bar.

  The woman had talent.

  “I have the sketches set up over here,” Samair said, leading us over to the far corner of the room.

  Obviously her work area there was a drafting table, a computer desk, and a long worktable filled with various fabric samples.

  “Before we get started, do either of you want something to drink? Coffee, tea, diet soda?”

  Ariel accepted a tea and I shook my head. When the pretty blonde went to make the drinks, Ariel turned to me.

  “I can’t afford a custom-made wedding dress,” she hissed. “Are you nuts?”

  “Relax. Samair is a new designer, and Val’s girlfriend. She’s willing to give you a really good deal if you’ll spread the word about her.”

  “Oh.”

  Her brow furrowed and I reached for her hand. “What? If you don’t like what she’s come up with don’t worry about it. There’s no pressure here, Ariel.”

  “It’s not that, but the wedding is coming up fast. What if I do like what she suggests, and can afford it, but she can’t make it in time. I’d be heartbroken.” She straightened her shoulders, her lips firming. “We should leave now.”

  I shook my head. “Get a grip, Ariel. That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  She looked at me, eyes wide and panicked for a split second. Then she took a deep breath, and excitement quickly replaced trepidation. “You’re right. It will all be okay. This is awesome.”

  Okay. My sister was seriously stressed.

  Samair came back and started showing us the sketches. I was quickly bored by all the talk of styles and fabrics and other wedding crap so I quietly left them alone and wandered the shop.

  It wasn’t fancy, but it was clean, and Samair’s products were as drool-worthy as I’d remembered. I noticed that she had some ready to sell, and they were priced a lot lower than the custom-made stuff from the show she’d done at Risqué.

  Two hours later we left the store happy. Ariel had a dress on order, I had a new lingerie outfit I couldn’t wait to show off, and Samair had an invitation to Ariel’s bachelorette party.

  19

  When I got home from work that night the light was blinking on my phone, so after stripping down and washing up I dialed in to check for messages.

  “Hi, honey. Ariel called and told me about her dress and I just wanted to say how wonderful it was of you to arrange that for her. And to see if you’ve bought her and Miles a gift yet. Don’t leave it to the last minute, Kelsey. Your sister would be very upset if you forgot. Maybe I should just pick one up for you? Would you like that? Call me back, sweetheart.”

  Like Ariel would care if she didn’t get the gift on the day of. They weren’t going to open any until they got back from their honeymoon anyway. I grimaced. I did need to find them a gift though.

  The voice mail clicked off and I settled onto the sofa with the latest Jack Reacher thriller and a cup of tea. Just as Jack was walking into a room full of big bad mercenaries the phone rang and I jumped three inches. “Fuck!” I stared down at my lapful of tea, thankful it was only lukewarm by then.

  It rang again as I was removing my wet shorts and I reached for the phone without looking at the caller ID.

  “Hello?”

  “How are you doing tonight, Kelsey?”

  My just-steadying pulse jumped again at the sound of Harlan’s deep smooth voice and was off to the races again. Leaning against the wall, I took a deep breath. “I’m doing good, Harlan. How about you?”

  God, I sounded so stiff and formal, but I couldn’t help it.

  “I’ve been thinking about you,” he said.

  My knees went weak and my brain blanked. I banged my head on the wall. Get a grip woman! I was like a freakin’ schoolgirl with a crush. This was a man who’d seen me do some very adult things. A man who I wanted to do some very adult things with.

  Heat unfurled low in my belly and spread throughout my body, causing tingles in all the right places. Yes, adult things, sexy things. My confidence returning, I breathed deep. “And what have you been thinking?”

  “That I want to get to know you better.”

  “You could’ve gotten to know me a lot better last night, but you left.”

  “You looked like Sleeping Beauty so I didn’t want to wake you. Instead, I was thinking you should have dinner with me tomorrow.”

  “Dinner?” He was asking me out? Like a normal person.

  “Yes, dinner. As in food and drinks, conversation and good company.” Humor laced his voice and I snapped upright, an embarassing thought occurring.

  I marched over to the patio and looked over at his loft. The lights were out, but that didn’t really mean anything. “Are you watching me right now?”

  “No.”

  Thank God he hadn’t been witness to my weak-kneed girly-girl moment. “What are you doing?”

  There was a small pause and some rustling sounds. “I’m in bed.”

  “Be still my heart,” I said without thinking. “Would you like some company?”

  A low chuckle rumbled in my ear and I turned away from the window, heading toward my room. I put some clean shorts on and I was ready to go.

  As I stepped into my room Harlan’s words put a stop to my plans. “Not tonight, greedy girl. I didn’t sleep at all last night, or today, so I’m going to crash. I just wanted to make a date with you before I did.”

  Confusion, mixed with disappointment, made me a bit snappish. “Sorry, I can’t do dinner tomorrow night. I have to work.”

  “Before you go to work then. I’d like to see you again, Kelsey.”

  He wanted to see me again? “Okay, not dinner, but drinks will work. You know where Bart’s Martini Bar is?”

  “Yes.”

  “Meet me there at seven thirty. The after-work crowd will have thinned out by then, and I’ll have some time before I have to be at work.”

  “I’m looking forward to it. Sweet dreams, Kelsey.”

  “Oh no, I like my not-so-sweet dreams, thank you.” He chuckled and something fluttered in my chest. “Good night, Harlan.”

  All day long I waffled on my plan. Part of me wanted to listen to all the advice Dee had given me over the years and
be the good girl—just go and have a drink and some conversation with him before I went to work. But the other part of me, the part that was never willing to settle, wouldn’t let go of the fantasy once it had entered my head.

  “Baby did a bad bad thing . . .” I sang to the image in the mirror the next evening. An hour with the curling iron had given me a just out of bed tousled look that framed my heart-shaped face. Artful application of makeup had my eyes looking slanted and my lips full and pouty. A quick swipe with some clear gloss and I was ready to go.

  “Fuck it,” I said to my reflection. “He wants to get to know me, he’s going to get to know the real me.”

  Adrenaline pumped through my veins as I locked my apartment door and headed down the steps. With the curly hair, and clear lip gloss I was more pin-up girl than goth girl and it suited my purposes well.

  The drive to Bart’s was less than ten minutes, but it felt like forever. By the time I got to the bar, my panties were damp and my nipples were so stiff they ached.

  A glance at the clock on the dashboard showed it was just after seven thirty. Harlan should already be there.

  Bart’s was a small brick building with a flat roof and opaque windows that let passersby catch just a glimpse of action on the inside. There was a parking lot on one side of the building and a rare books store on the other. It wasn’t my usual hangout, but it was a perfect fit for my plan.

  Hips swinging to the music in my mind, I sashayed into the place and stopped just inside the door. “Baby did a bad bad thing.” Oh yeah, I was about to do a bad bad thing and it was going to feel so so good.

  The place wasn’t empty, but it wasn’t full either. About half of the horseshoe-shaped booths along the wall were occupied, a few of the tables, and half of the long bar. A pretty decent selection of men to chose from, but no Harlan.

  A tingle danced down my spine and my nipples throbbed. Turning my head slowly, I saw a lone man seated at a small round table with his back to the wall. Our eyes met and warmth flooded my system. He was here.

  Tearing my gaze from his I walked right past Harlan and went up to the bar. I gave the three men closest to me a quick once-over then asked the guy on my left to buy me a drink.