Dark Corners Read online

  The way Ted tried so hard made him pathetic. Once I labeled a man pathetic, it was over.

  “Maybe this year he’ll get the hint.”

  “Doubtful. At the Labor Day party, he came right out and asked me to have his children.”

  “He did not.”

  “Swear to God,” I said, crossing my heart. “The stupidest thing I’ve ever done was to go out with him to begin with.”

  Phoebe leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Maybe you can find a date by then.”

  There was only one person I’d even consider taking, and the thought of asking him caused butterflies to take flight in my stomach. “Yes, maybe a hot man will fall from the sky,” I countered.

  She laughed and quipped, “It could happen.”

  I loved Phoebe. Reed chose well and I often joked that if they were ever to split, I’d have to consider lifting him out of my life to remain friends with her.

  “So, I need a new dress, since nothing fits anymore.” Her hand automatically patted her belly, which looked as flat as it was a few weeks ago.

  “You’re not showing yet.”

  She laughed sarcastically, nodding her head while saying, “Oh yes I am.” With a quick peek toward my father, she raised her shirt to reveal a popped button on her jeans. “See.”

  “Stop it, you look great.”

  Actually, she looked radiant. With their combined blessed genes, there was no doubt this child was going to be beautiful. Where Reed was blond and blue-eyed, Phoebe’s Asian heritage gifted her with high cheekbones, raven hair, and dark brown eyes. Petite like me, when standing next to her quarterback hubby she looked even tinier.

  “So, how are you feeling?”

  “Ugh, I’m so exhausted these days,” she deadpanned loudly, while rubbing her back for emphasis.

  “Baby, do you want me to check dinner?”

  “No, honey, the timer is set, but thank you.” Once the men resumed their side conversation, Phoebe lowered her voice and said, “Besides feeling fat, I feel great. It’s been really easy so far. I’m actually worried as to why I haven’t been inflicted with any of the symptoms my sister was so anxious to warn me about.” Leaning closer, she whispered, “I can’t tell him that, though. He’ll do just about anything I ask these days.”

  “Use it.”

  “Oh, no worries, darling. I have been, and will continue to milk it for all it’s worth.”

  I laughed at the evil sneer that altered her otherwise angelic face. Following with a giggle of her own, she immediately reined it in when the men glanced our way.

  She straightened into the back of the couch, groaning as she did. “So yeah, it’s been rough,” she continued with her voice a few octaves higher than the men’s. “Let’s hope it doesn’t continue this way into my ninth month. Working full-time and keeping up with this place while pregnant, especially with Reed working so much, won’t be easy.”

  “Well, Reed’s gonna have to step up.” When he cut his eyes to mine, I raised my wineglass in a toast to my command. “Or I’ll come here and kick your ass.”

  “I will,” he admitted with a pout. “I promise.”

  “Good.”

  Phoebe quietly took a sip of her water, winking at me as she did. A timer in the kitchen announced dinner was done. “Saved by the bell. You guys ready to eat?”

  “I’m starving,” Reed said before standing and giving her a sweet kiss. “Baby, I’ll get it. You relax.”

  “I’ll help,” my father volunteered.

  “Why, thank you, honey,” she cooed while trying to hide her grin. Phoebe turned toward me and winked again. “I’m determined to get him on a normal forty-hour-a-week schedule by the time I pop this baby out. I know, I’m evil and I’m going to hell.”

  I laughed at her admission. If Phoebe was anything, evil was the furthest thing from it. She was a sweetheart to her very core, but I had to admit I liked seeing this new side of her. I also looked forward to her driving Reed crazy. This pregnancy was going to be fun for both of us.

  Chapter 7

  David

  The way I saw it I had two options. I could be an asshole again and wait a few days before I called her. Or I could simply dial her number and possibly see her today. After spending time with her in the park she seemed to alleviate some of the agony I’d been feeling. Fuck if I knew how or why, but she did.

  Last night was episode-free, and instead of a night filled with the usual sounds of gunfire, cries of distress, and sight of bloodshed, I dreamed of a beautiful petite blonde with her soft sweet lips on mine. I wasn’t one to overanalyze, and often had an it-is-what-it-is kind of approach to my life. When it came to my PTSD, I usually just dealt with each burden clinically, no questions asked. I was fully aware that that contradicted my choice to pursue psychology. I reasoned that once I got there, I’d apply the proper techniques in regard to my career path, which had nothing to do with my personal life.

  The same was true with why I was drawn to Maygen. I should have been dissecting the reasons why she was getting to me, or more important, why I was allowing her to. Instead of pondering the whys I preferred to just succumb and ride whatever this was between us. It seemed to be helping more than not, so why the fuck wouldn’t I take advantage? Being a dumbass was not something I could be accused of.

  Staring at my phone, I smiled like a fool when my finger tapped her name on the screen. What in the serious fuck was I doing calling a chick and worse yet, wanting to?

  Before I could chicken out, her sweet voice filtered through the call.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, beautiful.”

  “Who is this?”

  I grinned at her attempt at acting cool again. “Nice try, dork.”

  She giggled over the phone and said, “Good morning.”

  “It is now.” I could hear music playing in the background while she released a tiny moan. Upon hearing it, a jolt of electricity zipped right through me. “Christ, why are you moaning like that?”

  “I just stretched.”

  I decided the vision that popped into my head of her lying on her back while her hand skimmed her breasts and naked pussy was a better explanation.

  “Wish I was there.” I could hear her breathing immediately alter over the phone from my declaration, which could only mean that I affected her in all the right ways. “How was your date last night? Did you tell him you won’t be seeing him anymore?”

  “I didn’t have a date last night.”

  “That’s too bad. You could have had a hot one, with me. What are you up to today?”

  “Oh, the usual…relaxing and building my low-stress reserves to prepare for another grueling workweek. You?”

  “I’m going to be taking a beautiful girl out, maybe to the movies or somewhere I can make out with her like a horny teenager.”

  A short, sarcastic laugh preceded her words. “Is that so?”

  “Yep.”

  “Well, have a great time with her.”

  “I intend to. Be ready in an hour.”

  “You’re very presumptuous.”

  “I’ve been called worse. See you in a bit, beautiful.”

  For a full minute after she hung up I sat grinning like a fool.

  My thoughts were interrupted when my cell buzzed with a call from my sister.

  “Yes?”

  “Good morning…or afternoon almost. What are you up to?”

  “Not much. What’s going on?”

  “We’re going to surprise Mom and Dad with a visit. Wanna come?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “None of your business.”

  Angela grunted and I laughed. “You’re so mean to me,” she said, sounding like we were kids again.

  “Why must you know everything?”

  Ignoring my question, instead she asked, “Wait…is it Maygen? You have a date, don’t you?” I shouldn’t have been surprised that she guessed. Being married to an FBI agent had rubbed off on her. My silence fue
led her to say, “Ah, I knew it. You go have yourself a great date. I’ll call you tomorrow to get the details.”

  “I seriously can’t wait,” I droned.

  —

  I waited while the security desk called her to announce my arrival. As the older gentleman asked if she was expecting a David Cavello, my eyes scanned the opulent lobby.

  Decorations adorned every surface, including the two massive Douglas fir trees framing the foyer with enough lights to power a small city. Much like where my cousin Eve lived, the amount of marble could give the Vatican a run for its money. If there was a doubt Maygen had money before, there wasn’t one now. She hadn’t flinched when I said I was unemployed, but standing in such luxury had me wondering if she was a princess. I quickly dismissed it. My Maygen was down-to-earth and real, not a spoiled brat.

  Did I just think my Maygen?

  Felix, as his name tag read, hung up the phone and said, “You can go ahead. Apartment 705.”

  “Thank you.”

  A few minutes later I stood at her door waiting for her to open it. Her appearance left me stunned and at a loss for words. She wore a pale blue sweater the exact same color as her eyes. The dark denim jeans molded over her lower half like a second skin. Her blond, flaxen locks hung long and loose, curling at the ends with one strand strategically curving around one perfect breast.

  Shit.

  “Hey.”

  “Hi. Come in.” She stood to the side so I could walk past her. Lavender filled my senses, bringing with it a calm I’d already come to expect when near her.

  As I followed her toward a combination den and kitchen, I thought that I could literally place my entire apartment into this one room, with space around it to spare. It wasn’t decorated girly or over-the-top trendy as one would expect in this building. It was warm and cozy, inviting. I could picture the two of us stretched out naked on that overstuffed suede couch that spanned one entire wall, as a snowstorm raged outside her floor-to-ceiling windows.

  “We need to find you a nice place to live. It’s even worse on the inside than it is on the outside.” A shy smile spread over her lips. “Seriously, how do you live in such squalor?”

  “Shut up,” she said with a playful shove. Before she could move away I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her close. “Can I have a kiss?”

  “Since you asked so nicely, sure.” I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. “What?” She asked when I still hadn’t moved.

  “No smart-ass response? What are you up to?”

  “What do you mean, Mr. Cavello?” she said in a fake southern accent while widening her eyes in a blatant show of mock displeasure.

  “You look guilty. Spill it.”

  “Okay. I’m guilty of wanting you to kiss me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I like your kisses.”

  “Well, fuck, what a coincidence.” When I pulled her closer, the dramatic expression fell right off her face. I dragged the pad of my thumb along her parted lips. Her eyelids fell closed as her breasts heaved against my chest. She was so stunningly beautiful. When she slowly opened her eyes, I couldn’t help but to get lost in their crystal blue depths. Confusion over what I was internally battling caused a frown to appear.

  It must have given her the wrong idea because she asked, “Are you okay?”

  “You take my breath away,” I said, and then wondered why I did.

  She blushed and looked away embarrassed. “You’re so full of it.”

  “Baby, I may be many things, but a bullshitter is not one of them.” Dragging my hand through her silky hair, I held her head and tilted it to force her eyes back to mine. Forfeiting words, I impulsively slanted my lips over hers. She tasted of cinnamon and sweetness, and the combination had me feasting on her mouth.

  “David.” My name fell from her lips when I pulled away for a much-needed breath.

  “Hmm?”

  “I need to sit down.”

  She read my thoughts, because I did, too.

  Maygen

  Holy crap. I felt like my insides were microwaved. You know how sometimes there are spots of food that are still cold, while others are piping hot? Goosebumps riddled the exposed skin on my arms and neck, yet my belly and crotch felt like they were on fire. When we sat side by side on the couch, his hands were instantly on me. He held my face and went right back in.

  When I literally couldn’t breathe, I gasped for air and pushed him away. He leaned his head on the back of the couch, fighting for his own breath. I followed suit, molding my body against the cushions behind me.

  Sneaking a glance, the look on his face was one of torment, like he was in physical pain. “Holy shit, Maygen. What are you doing to me?” he finally said after a very long pause had my insecurities running wild.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I guess I got carried away.”

  Without turning toward me, he reached for my hand and pulled it onto his thigh. “Where would you like to go, because I can’t be held responsible for what I’ll do to you if we stay in this apartment any longer. Something along the lines of you, me, and nothing but skin between us and the suede fabric of this couch.”

  I would’ve loved to say, Yes, please, but I barely knew this guy. Yet, I felt like I’d known him for years. It was strange how comfortable he made me feel, and safe. I shifted to face him with my hand still firmly held against his thigh. “What do you want to do?”

  “Whatever you’d like,” he said after turning his head but otherwise not moving. “Movie, lunch, see the sights?” He glanced around my apartment and frowned. “No tree? Do you celebrate Christmas?”

  “Yes, I just haven’t had time to get one yet. It doesn’t feel like Christmas.”

  “I know of a cute little tree that would put you in the holiday spirit. Wanna see it? It’s over on Fifth Avenue.” He smiled at my giggle. “You’ve seen it before?”

  “A few times.”

  “Oh, I thought it was my own best-kept secret.”

  He stood suddenly, still holding my hand and pulling me up beside him in the process. “Come, I’ll even buy you a hot salted pretzel.”

  “Yum. I can’t wait.”

  Chapter 8

  Maygen

  The weather was cold and gray, but my mood was anything but. The simplicity of our date was a refreshing change. He wasn’t trying too hard, nor did he have to. He just wanted to be with me, and it showed in the way he held my hand or winked whenever our eyes met.

  David and I walked hand in hand from my apartment down Fifth Avenue, stopping occasionally to look at a Christmas display or watch a street performer earn some spare change. We stood quietly as a bohemian hipster strummed a folksy tune on his acoustic guitar. David reached into his wallet and pulled out a twenty, tossing it into the open guitar case at the singer’s feet.

  “Thanks, man,” he said in between lyrics. “Merry Christmas.”

  David nodded, but otherwise said nothing. My heart melted into a pool of desire. Here was this unemployed war vet who had no problem throwing a perfect stranger much more than the usual dollar bill or minimal combination of coins that most gifted in passing.

  “That was so sweet.”

  David shrugged. “Just helping out a fellow vet.”

  “How could you tell he’s a vet?”

  “The tattoo on his hand.”

  He had a tattoo?

  Resuming our walk, we fell into a comfortable silence. He was a quiet man, not one for many words. I, for one, appreciated it. When we reached Henri Bendel on Fifty-Sixth Street, I pulled David toward the center storefront window. Displayed regally was an ivory strapless sheer gown with strategically placed embroidered flowers encrusted with seed pearls.

  David looked through the window, then down at me. “It’s really not my taste. That would definitely make my ass look fat.”

  I grinned, loving his humor. “That’s a Dax Storm exclusive design.”

  “Dax Storm?”

  “My boss.”

&nb
sp; “Ah, got it. You worried me for a minute. Now I remember you saying you worked for a designer. Any chance you can score one of those?”

  “No. When I raid the sample closet, his couture line is not for the taking.”

  “That’s too bad.” David turned us so we faced each other before pulling me closer. “That…would look amazing on you. That is, for all of ninety seconds it would be before it became a pool of ridiculously expensive fabric in the center of your floor.”

  “Spoken like a true man.”

  “What?”

  I turned back to Dax’s masterpiece. He was so proud of this gown, and rightly so. “That dress is a work of art. Look at the beadwork, the stitchwork. It’s stunning.”

  “It depends on who’s wearing it. On that fiberglass mannequin, not so much.” He pulled me even closer, eliminating the sliver of space between us. “On you, yes…stunning. I can envision your smooth skin showing through, your curves filling it perfectly.” His hands roamed over the puffy down fabric covering my back and backside and he frowned. “I hate winter. Too much fabric to navigate under.”

  “We’re standing in front of Bendel’s. There will be no fabric to navigate, period.”

  Lifting on my tiptoes, I kissed his cheek and grabbed his hand. “Come, I’m getting hungry.”

  “Yeah, so am I…” he mumbled, before quirking his lips to the side. “But not for food.”

  “You’re a flirt.”

  “You’re a tease.”

  As we got closer to Rockefeller Center, hordes of humans packed the sidewalks to the point where we felt like moving cattle. I couldn’t help but admire David’s confidence in the middle of a crowd. With a firm hand clutching mine and while his eyes darted around the throngs of people surrounding us, he moved us along with an authority that couldn’t be mistaken. You could see the soldier in him, the unmistakable discipline.

  “Do you have a picture of you in uniform?” I asked.