“Sure,” she said. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Cool. Call me when you get home so I’ll know that you arrived safely.” Drew stepped back from her driver’s window.
Alana smiled and, as she drove off, she noticed Stacey still sitting in her car, watching their interaction. She’d only said yes to Drew to avoid an awkward situation, but she had no intentions of going out with him. He was the main person she wanted to avoid. If fact, he had had his chance when they dated before. He hadn’t taken it seriously. She’d had fun flirting with him over the past few years. Everyone assumed they would become an official item, but that never happened.
No sex and definitely no commitment-phobic players like Mr. Drew Barrington, she thought as she drove away. She already knew what Drew was like in bed and if any man had the ability to throw her off her game by way of incredible sex, Drew was certainly one of them. Also, Alana saw how Drew relished the attention Stacey lavished on him at the party and surmised that nothing had changed with him. “Good luck, Stacey. He’s a slippery one,” she said aloud. A player like him was hard to resist but could never be trusted.
Drew reminisced about the way Alana had arrested his attention when she arrived at Blake’s house the other night as he danced with Stacey. He remembered how her lips curled when she smiled, and those long sexy legs hidden beneath smooth stockings. Then, he envisioned Alana driving away at the end of the night. He had wanted to go with her for a nightcap. She intrigued and scared him at the same time, challenging his player status by causing him to desire her. Admittedly, he’d worked hard to avoid being caught up when they had dated before, because he couldn’t imagine leaving her behind while he traipsed across the globe and he couldn’t expect Alana, as dedicated as she was, to walk away from her profession.
Drew picked up his cell phone to call her and paused as his finger hovered over her name. Tossing the phone aside, Drew shook his head. What was he doing? Barrington men didn’t chase women. Picking the phone back up, he called Hunter instead.
“What’s up, Drew?” Hunter answered.
“Not much. Got any plans? I keep hearing about this new restaurant and lounge downtown on Atlantic. Let’s go check it out. I’ll have you home at a decent time so you can get your rest. I know you and Blake have a busy week coming up with this new case.”
“That sounds good, but let me check with Chey first. I think she had something planned.”
“Oh.” Blake mentioning Chey made Drew think of Alana. He wondered what she was doing. “Hey, don’t let me impose on your plans. You’ll just have to take me there before I leave in a few weeks. It will be your treat for making me wait. Ha!”
“It’s always my treat when I hang out with you.”
“Well. You are the oldest.”
“Yeah. Whatever, lil brother.”
“Alright, Hunt. I’ll catch up with you later. Tell Chey I said hello.”
“Cool.”
Drew put his phone aside and sat back in his black leather recliner. He looked around the four-story brownstone and noticed for the first time how barren that space felt. He’d purchased the home right after he had signed his first multimillion-dollar racing contract but only stayed there during the off-season. He spent most of the year at his homes in England and France, where he resided from March through November. Europe offered him a number of conveniences. Most of his races took place there. His time spent in the States was split between Brooklyn and his parents’ sprawling home on the north shore of Long Island. He had inherited his proclivity to acquire interesting homes from his parents, who enjoyed dabbling in real estate as well.
Drew thought about calling Blake but figured he would also be spending this cold afternoon cozied up with his bride-to-be. Suddenly, he felt like the odd man out. He reached out to his cousin Lance, but the call went to voicemail. His other friends were scattered across the States and abroad, leaving him no more local options. The thought of calling Stacey came and went so fast it could have been a figment of his imagination. Drew looked at his phone, huffed and dialed Alana’s number once again.
“Hello, Drew. How are you?”
“Well. Weren’t you supposed to call me and let me know you got home safely?”
“That was two days ago.”
“Well, you didn’t call.”
“You’re too much. So what’s up?”
“Nothing. Are you busy today?”
“I’m in for the afternoon. Why?”
“How about dinner?” he asked. Alana didn’t respond right away. “Hello?” Drew looked at his phone to make sure that the call hadn’t dropped and that she was still there. “Did you hear me?”
“Thanks for asking, but I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
It was Drew’s turn to be silent. He couldn’t think of any reason why going to dinner with him would be unwise. “Why not?” His confusion splayed across in his tone.
Alana sighed. “I just... It’s not a good time.”
“Since when has that made a difference?” Drew tried to keep his disappointment out of his voice.
Alana waited a beat before responding. “I’m sorry, Drew. I just can’t go. I hope you understand.”
“Sure,” he said, even though he didn’t.
“Take care, Drew.” Alana hung up before he could answer.
“What the hell just happened?” Drew asked aloud.
Unaccustomed to rejection, he was puzzled by her snub. Women didn’t turn him down. Even after their rendezvous, Alana had never refused to hang out with him. He tried to come up with a sensible explanation, but after tossing several scenarios across his mind, he still couldn’t figure out why she’d brushed him off. Then he thought back to Friday night at the party. Had he done or said something to Alana to offend her? He couldn’t recall and he hadn’t been intoxicated enough to forget.
Drew got up from his recliner, grabbed his coat and the key to his newest SUV. Casually, he rode through residential streets of his coveted Clinton Hill neighborhood until he hit DeKalb. After driving a few blocks, he pulled up near the entrance of a crowded sports bar. Preferring not to be alone, Drew went inside, ordered a beer and settled right into the midst of the rambunctious crowd taking in the football game playing on several flat screens throughout the bar, which resembled a sports fanatic’s recreational haven. NFL and college team paraphernalia covered the walls to the point where you could hardly see the wood panels. Sturdy tables stood erect in the center of the restaurant, flanked by green leather stools.
The Panthers rise to the playoffs had both excited and pissed off the hard-core New York fans that frequented the place. Collectively they weren’t happy about the fact that neither their Jets nor the Giants made it to this point in the playoffs. The spectators cheered, cursed and joked about the plays being made. Drew joined in the fare, making fast friends. The camaraderie helped him forget about his earlier rejection. However, when the game was over and the chicken-wings-and-fries-eating crowd thinned out, it all came crashing back to him.
Drew wasn’t quite ready to go home to all that quiet. Instead, he maneuvered down Atlantic Avenue to the Conduit, hit the Belt Parkway and found himself sitting in front of Alana’s condominium in Long Island. Drew could tell she was surprised from the look on her face when she opened the door.
Drew stood before her, ignoring her perplexed expression while taking in the curves behind that tank top and sweatpants she wore. As casually as she was dressed,