Release Page 3

  “Suck a dick! I like that one,” Kayla says.

  “Leona?” I ask.

  “I was thinking bartender, but you got there first. Aiden, lifeguard.”

  We all glance at him and giggle quite loudly, which is more blatant than intended. Thankfully, my dark sunglasses hide my wide-eyed expression when he stands up and starts walking over to us, his bare feet sinking into the sand.

  “Shit,” Leona says under her breath, staring straight ahead at the ocean.

  Kayla gazes off in the opposite direction to the one he’s coming from.

  I don’t know where the heck to look, but my skin prickles with excitement.

  “Hello ladies, can I offer you a drink or somethin’?” he says in a gravelly Californian accent that I can’t help but find sexy.

  Leona has to look at him now. We all do. I’m tempted to ask him what the “somethin’” in his offer is, but I won’t. My best friend would not be impressed.

  “We’re fine, thanks,” Leona says.

  “We’re about to play a game of volleyball. Would you like to join us?” he asks, slipping his hands into the front pockets of his black jeans.

  “We were just talking about an activity of some sort,” I say, before Leona can refuse.

  “Where you girls from?” he asks, now that he realizes two of us have accents.

  We’ve been asked this so many times since we arrived in the U.S. “The UK, London. We’re visiting for a show we’re performing in at the moment. Kayla’s from here, though,” I add with a small incline of my head in her direction.

  “Cool, what show’s that?”

  “We’re dancers. The production’s called Release.”

  “Awesome,” he says, sounding impressed.

  “Will your friends mind us joining you?” Kayla asks. She’s probably reading my mind right now, because this conversation shouldn’t be between ‘Marcus’ and me.

  “Nah, they won’t mind, come on over.” His emerald green gaze rests specifically on Leona.

  Hah! This is so exciting – playing volleyball on a beach in America with a guy who looks like he should be a model. Photos. Loads of photos.

  We join our new acquaintance, whose name is Xavier, and his mates. After one game of volleyball, which I need to become much better at, we spend the rest of the time talking. I can confirm that twenty-nine year old Xavier is single and he is, in fact, a chef.

  After a while, we find ourselves in smaller groups, leaving the love birds talking. I can see there’s a definite chemistry between them. Mission accomplished, I’m exceptionally pleased. I’m also cold now. As Kayla shrugs on her denim jacket, I’m annoyed that I left my nice warm cardigan in the car. The way things are looking, we’re still going to be here a little longer.

  I lean towards Kayla. “I’m going to get my cardie.”

  “You want me to go with you?”

  “Nah, I’ll be fine, it’s only two minutes away. Back in a bit.”

  There are fewer vehicles in the car park now, and the sky has clouded over. I rub the goose bumps on my arms as I approach my Ford. Taking the brown, woolen garment from the back seat, I leave my sunglasses in its place. With my soft, thick cardigan on, I lock the car and wrap my arms around myself for extra warmth. I start walking back to the beach.

  As I pass the rear of the Volvo, one space away from my car, a smooth voice stops me in my tracks.

  “Brooklyn,” is all he said.

  He wasn’t calling me. He was simply saying my name, low and curious. Stupidly sexy, too, but let’s not get caught up in that detail.

  I know who that voice belongs to. I recognize it from last night.

  Correcting my stunned expression, I turn around. Everything sort of … falls out of focus, becomes nonexistent. When I stop, barely two feet away, I realize I’ve walked over to him. We’re standing at the boot of my car.

  Dane’s hazel eyes are lethally enticing. I can’t do anything but look into the golden brown of his irises, touched with flashes of varying shades of green. I don’t know what to say to him, and he isn’t speaking, he’s just standing there looking at me. I’d like to shrink and disappear.

  “I’ve been warned not to talk to you,” I say just to give me something to say. I instantly feel guilty for being such a blabber mouth.

  “Kayla told you that.”

  Smoothest, sexiest voice I’ve ever heard, and so, so sure. He doesn’t seem to mind what I said. I owe my friend a big apology.

  “Apparently, I’m too nice for you. Too nice a girl, that is. Not too good looking for you. Not your usual type.” Now I’m talking shit. My cheeks feel warm, too. Please, don’t let me be blushing.

  Dane’s expression is unreadable, but he answers. “That might be true.”

  He pauses for one long, powerful moment.

  There’s something commanding about him. This is definitely a man who gets exactly what he wants, when he wants, without having to make much effort for it.

  “Maybe you are too nice for me, but I’d really like you to be the one who decides that for yourself. You’ve been given a heads up. That gives you an advantage, right?”

  Oh, he’s good. What do I say to that? I don’t know. I’m taken aback by his honesty and tempted at the same time.

  Tempted by a man I have been firmly warned to stay away from.

  Find your brain, Brooklyn, and say “Thanks, but no thanks.”

  I still can’t speak.

  His lips start to turn up at the corners, but his gaze remains intense.

  I still don’t know what to say. It’s been about thirty seconds. Forty, maybe. Suddenly, I burst into laughter and slap my hand over my mouth to shut myself up. Typically in awkward situations, or at times when it’s most inappropriate, I laugh. I hate it, but I can’t help it.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, trying to pull back my outburst. “It’s not you, it’s me. I mean, I’m not laughing at you. I really don’t know what to say to you.”

  He’s still smiling, no less focused about his stare. “It’s not every day a woman laughs in my face, but I like your laugh.”

  I straighten up and curl my arms tighter around myself, still wrapped in my nice warm cardigan, which also feels like a protective barrier. Though I still want to giggle at my ridiculous self, I’m wondering if his complement is genuine or part of the charming process. My friends describe my laugh as loud and dirty, and I’ve never been complemented on it.

  “Where do you live?” he asks.

  “Where do I live?” I ask back, unable to stop my eyebrows reaching for my hairline. That’s a bit forward, did I hear him correctly?

  “Yes.” He looks me straight in the eyes. This guy is unbelievable, he’s serious.

  I swallow hard with my now tight throat. “Um, the corner of Sutter and …” Am I really giving up this information? “Franklyn.”

  “That’s good. Do you know the Purple Cafe, on Bush Street?”

  I nod. I haven’t been in there, but I’ve passed it a couple of times. Maybe I should’ve said no.

  “Meet me there for breakfast tomorrow morning. I start work around nine, let’s be there for seven, outside. Think of it as your chance to decide for yourself.”

  I’m speechless, again.

  Dane turns around and walks away. “See you tomorrow, Brooklyn.”

  Standing astonished, all I can do is watch his departure. In motion, he’s even more fascinating. He strides away with a feline grace, that air of command remaining.

  I feel a weird temptation to follow him.

  What the fuck just happened?

  Five: Brooklyn

  Forcing my legs to move, I make my way back to the others. Where the hell did he appear from? It’s a public place, anyone can come here, but I’m sure I would’ve noticed him. I’ve been people watching all afternoon.

  I sit down next to Kayla and search the beach. There are a couple of small groups of people towards the Golden Gate Bridge, but Dane isn’t one of them. I look behind me, in the dir
ection of the cliffs at the other end.

  He’s there.

  I tingle just at the sight of him, which is ridiculous given Kayla’s warning. I ignore my silly reaction.

  He’s with two guys; one is the long-haired man from last night, the other one I’ve never seen before. Two little boys are with them as well. They’re all leaving, and as they do, Dane glances in this direction – at me. Did he see me here before I went to the car?

  “Fuck my ass!” I hear Kayla whisper in surprise.

  When I look at her, she’s watching Dane. “He just approached me in the car park.”

  Her gaze switches to me. “Did you tell him to fuck off?”

  Should I tell her he asked me to breakfast? Technically, he didn’t actual ask, did he? He told me. Maybe if I’d been wordier he would’ve requested it instead. He must have thought I was an idiot.

  “I didn’t exactly say that to him, but I owe you an apology – I told him I’d been warned off. He knew it was you. I’m really sorry.”

  “No probs, I don’t care. I’ll tell him to fuck off for you, if you want?”

  “That’s not necessary. Thanks, though.”

  “Oh no,” Leona adds. “Did he work his magic on you, babe?”

  I didn’t even notice her sitting on the other side of me. “No, no way.” I can see she doesn’t believe me. I don’t even believe me. “Can we go now?”

  “We were just saying that. You needn’t have gone for your cardie,” Leona says.

  I’m still in a semi-state of shock. That encounter could’ve been avoided – I think I’d have preferred that.

  As we start to gather our stuff, even through my haze of ‘What-the-fuck-am-I-going-to-do?’, I’m massively excited that my best friend is seeing Xavier next Saturday. He’s coming to the show – you call that knowing the right people at this short notice – and they’re going out after. Result!

  When we get back to our apartment, the three of us sit on my bed. I filled them in on my conversation with Dane – if you can actually call it that, given my inability to speak properly – on the way back from the beach.

  “Is he really so bad?’ I ask Kayla, in the hope that just maybe he isn’t someone I should avoid.

  Physically, Dane is one hundred percent my type and more. I also like a confident man, he has that in spades. And for all that confidence he exudes there isn’t a trace of arrogance about him. He’s obviously unapologetically comfortable with who he is. It really doesn’t get sexier than that, for me.

  “I know you and I know all about him. You want to go, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I lay back, resting my head on my pillow, looking up at the ceiling. I can’t believe I’m considering it, but I can’t seem to conclude no and not go. I think I want to, but I can’t even conclude that with certainty.

  After my last relationship ended, eight months ago, I didn’t want to be involved with another man ever again. I hated them all. As the months went by, I realized I was allowing somebody else to control my decisions about men by being that way. I’m not looking for a boyfriend, but I’m not opposed to meeting someone and seeing where things go.

  It goes without saying that Dane isn’t the type of man you consider for anything more than sex, so he shouldn’t even factor into my thoughts.

  Acknowledging that isn’t helping my indecision, either.

  “Tell me more about him. What does he do? Where does he live?”

  Kayla and Leona move to lay either side of me. The three of us fit my double bed perfectly.

  “He has his own business with a guy called Eric; a motorcycle customization shop. Their work is like totally freakin’ awesome. The shop is on Bush Street. You know, his apartment is pretty close also. Had you seen him around before last night?”

  “No.” I’ve walked along Bush Street a few times. There’s no way I would’ve seen Dane and not notice him, he definitely would’ve commanded my attention.

  “That’s probably why he suggested the Purple Cafe; it’s close to his work and here. What else is there to tell ya? He has tattoos, and I don’t mean one or two, so you need to like tats. His friend, Adam, the guy he was with last night and his brother, Joe, the other guy who was with them both today, are tattoo artists. Adam is married to Dane’s sister, Saffron. Do you remember when I introduced you to her last night? She was with Ella and an Asian girl, Su, who I also introduced you to. They were sitting at a corner table.”

  “She was the one with black hair, cut into a jaw-length bob with the ends dyed red. Brown eyes, though? She’s his sister?” It makes sense now that I think about it, there’s a definite resemblance.

  “Yup. It’s a small world, huh? Saffron was so excited about meeting you last night, she watched you on All about the Dance. She lives near Baker Beach with her husband and Joe. They’re a very close group of friends, including that douchetard, Gerard.”

  That explains why Dane appeared out of nowhere like that today. I’d hoped the extra info would help once and for all, and put me off, but if anything, it’s made things worse. He’s obviously ambitious and hard working if he runs his own business. That’s admirable. And tattoos? I’d love to see those. His dreadlocks are so nice, and long enough to reach what looked like quite an impressive arse. He obviously takes care of them. That probably means he also takes good care of himself.

  This isn’t getting any easier, and it doesn’t help that his shop is so– oh no. “Why does he have to be so close? Knowing my luck, if I don’t show, I’ll bump into him. How awkward would that be? I’ve seen him two days in a row without even choosing to.”

  “No doubt about it, you probably will. That’s the way the universe works,” Kayla says.

  “Don’t make your decision based on that,” level headed Leona says. “It doesn’t change what he’s about.”

  Maybe she’s talking in place of my common sense, which is obviously still sitting on Baker Beach.

  “I don’t know what to do. What if I go and show him he won’t get anywhere with me? If by any chance he’s actually interested in getting to know me, he’ll stick it out.”

  Leona shakes her head. “I think you should take Kayla’s advice and stay away.”

  “I still think you should stay away, but you seem to want to go. Why?” Kayla asks.

  I shrug, uncertain, because I really am. “I’m not even sure I do want to go. It’s weird, I do, but I don’t. I know I won’t take risks with him. At least if I meet him and he is only after one thing, then I’ll know for definite. He won’t bother for long if it’s only sex he wants. I wonder why he suggested breakfast.”

  “I have no clue,” Kayla says, “but if you’re going to do this then breakfast is a safe option. He’ll have to work after, and you’ll have your commitments, so there’ll be no temptation to go back to his place for coffee and sex.”

  “Maybe that’s why,” Leona says. “Maybe he is trying to keep things simple. If he was going to try anything he wouldn’t ask you to breakfast, it would be something at night. This might be a good sign.”

  “It could be,” Kayla chips in, “but if you’re going, keep your wits about you. You just don’t know with men like him. Don’t let him charm you.”

  ****

  After my discussion with Kayla and Leona I still changed my mind about meeting Dane, several times, only to change it back within minutes. Overall, the easiest thing would’ve been to stay in bed this morning.

  I still don’t know if I’m doing the right thing, even now, as I approach the Purple Cafe.

  But I couldn’t just let him rock up and stand around waiting like an idiot.

  As I get closer to the violet-colored building, which sits on a corner, I spot Dane and take him in with fresh eyes. I like the fit of his dark jeans, which are narrow but loose enough to have the waistband sit low on his hips and the crotch area sag slightly in a way I find sexy as hell. His unzipped black jacket shows a nicely fitted navy sweater underneath.

  Dane excee
ds attractive, and that manner of command absolutely draws you in.

  Charm is surplus to requirement – his existence alone is more than enough.

  Don’t I feel like shit? I’m wearing a black and white Adidas tracksuit, the type of thing I often put on over my tight-fitting studio clothes, and my hair is in a simple ponytail. The only reason I added a touch of black mascara to my lashes is because I feel half asleep, so deem it necessary to emphasize my eyes a bit. As for my choice of attire, I’m hiding my body beneath the bagginess of these clothes. They’re not scruffy or horrible, but you wouldn’t really wear this if you’re trying to impress a guy you’ve recently met.

  If Dane wants my company, it needs to be because he likes me. If he is only trying to bed me, he has another thing coming and he’ll soon lose interest. I’m expecting today to be the one and only time we intentionally meet. At the very least, I’ll have cured my curiosity.

  A slow smile shapes his lips as I get closer.

  That simple gesture causes my legs to quiver. For the first time in my life, I have to concentrate on walking.

  I’m in trouble.

  “Good morning,” he says when I stop in front of him.

  Definitely in trouble.

  “Good morning,” I reply, making every effort to avoid sounding like a silly, horny, star-struck girl.

  Who the heck takes one look at a man and goes to pieces? I will actually have a conversation with him today; I’ll show him I’m a competent woman, capable of stringing a sentence together. That always pushes away pricks caught up on the idea of fucking a dancer.

  Dane leads the way and opens the door.

  I enter the Purple Cafe for the first time. It’s violet inside as well as out, but fortunately it’s not so overbearing that it messes with your eyes. I love that there are only a handful of tables, a few already occupied. The checkered floor goes well with the theme and there’s even a jukebox by the door. The music is low enough for ease of conversation.

  We sit at the back, by the window, directly across from each other. A smiley blonde haired lady, who looks to be in her early twenties and wears a name badge imprinted with ‘Lexi’, approaches us. I request a black coffee.