Tasha stared at him as he were a stranger. Since when had he ever called her his little girl? Big, large, fat girl. Those were the words that came to mind. Little girl? Never. What had gotten into him?
In a contrary state of mind, she said, “Fine, C.J. I’ll go with you, but not as a date. We’ll go as friends, in memory of Tim. I’ll be by your place at seven. Oh—” she frowned “—do you still live at the same address?”
He nodded, but he didn’t look happy. When she glanced at her parents, she could see their dismay, as well.
How am I going to survive the night?
NATASHA PULLED UP to C.J.’s apartment building with trepidation. The clock in her car read six-fifty. Why had she gotten herself into this predicament?
She put her head on the steering wheel and tried belly breathing, as she’d learned to do in yoga. “You can do this, Tasha.” She opened the door of the car and attempted to climb out.
Someone had told her it would be hard to move after the race, but this was ridiculous. Her beloved Lexus, a cherry-red convertible sports car, was built for speed, not ease and comfort.
Tasha glanced up to where C.J.’s window overlooked the street. “Please don’t let him be watching.”
Relief flooded her system when she discovered the room appeared dark, and the blinds were drawn. The last thing she wanted was C.J. witnessing her struggle. She had to lift each leg out of the car and push herself to a standing position while she leaned on the door. Why hadn’t she thought of hiring a limo?
While she waited for her legs to stop shaking, her long, sleeveless dress danced in the breeze. One thing she’d done right was get herself a personal shopper.
Daphne, her paralegal, had offered to do the job. Before she’d become Tasha’s go-to lady, she’d been a beauty consultant for Neiman Marcus. It was how she’d paid her way through school.
Tasha remembered being curious about why a girl who worked at Neiman Marcus would want to work at a pro bono law firm. On paper it didn’t make sense, because Tasha simply couldn’t pay her what the big firms offered.
That was until she met her. From the moment Daphne walked in, with her short, blond, pixie hairdo, they’d clicked. She and Daphne both had the same dream. They wanted to help immigrants get fair legal treatment.
Daphne had definitely gone out of her way to find the right outfit for tonight’s big event—a silky, melon-colored Armani gown. The filmy material flowed around Tasha’s feet, clad in dainty ballet flats. After the marathon, heels were out of the question.
When she’d first put the dress on, she couldn’t believe how well it fit. The scooped neckline gave her curves she hadn’t known she possessed, and showed off her newly toned arms. The ruched waistline made her torso look tiny. She’d never dreamed she could wear something like this before. But then, she’d never before been so slim.
After she’d arrived home from the hospital, she’d taken a nap. Then, as prearranged, a friend of Daphne’s had brought a full team to help Tasha get ready for the night.
She would have to remember to give Daphne a bonus for this. The condo had quickly become a salon. The team did everything from nails, hair and makeup to getting her dress put on correctly.
It was amazing what money could buy. No wonder her mother looked flawless every time she went out. Tasha just couldn’t imagine wasting that much time and money on herself every day when she barely had time to sleep.
The balmy air caressed her shoulders, weaving a magical spell around her. She hoped the unseasonably warm night would bring a large crowd to the fundraiser.
Before the marathon, Tasha had assumed she would suffer post-race exhaustion. Never would she have anticipated dehydration and fainting.
Thoughts of C.J. in the ambulance and at the hospital suddenly came to mind. She felt a little shiver and hobbled toward his apartment complex. By the time she arrived in the entryway, there were butterflies in her stomach.
Her anxiety level skyrocketed as she dialed the number on the speaker system. When there was no answer, Tasha tried again, with no response. “Typical!”
She was angry at herself for letting C.J. put her in this position. But before she jumped to conclusions, she pulled her cell from her clutch to see if there was a message.
Maybe he’d been called in to work. He was a fireman, after all. Being a captain now meant more responsibility. She checked her phone. Seven o’clock. No messages. “You’re a fool, Tasha!”
That was when she heard a loud noise outside. She looked around and saw C.J. climbing out of the restored black Mustang, his prized possession. He and Tim had called it the chick magnet. She had some lovely metaphors of her own for his car, but kept them to herself.
As C.J. approached, he looked like a movie star. He was dressed in a tux, and his jet-black hair had been washed and combed back, accentuating his blue eyes.
He closed in faster than she’d anticipated. She felt like a trapped animal in the glass entryway. C.J.’s tall muscular fireman’s build and his perfect features—aquiline nose, high cheekbones and full mouth—were a lethal combination.
It shocked her that she’d spent two years around him and had never noticed him like this before. What was going on? Maybe she should have stayed at the hospital as her dad had wanted.
That was when it hit her that Tim had blinded her to other men. Seeing C.J. like this reminded her of a quote she’d always loved and never fully understood until now: “One kiss breaches the distance between friendship and love.” She wondered if that was what would happen with them.
Chapter Two
Tasha moistened her lips nervously. “We need to go so we aren’t late.” She had to get out of the pheromone-filled entryway.
Being so attracted to C.J. on the night that was meant to honor Tim seemed such a betrayal. She marched away from him with little dignity. Damn race. She couldn’t even walk right tonight.
“Marathon legs?”
“You noticed.”
“I know the hobble well.”
Of course he did. He ran, too, when he wasn’t on duty. Mr. Wonderful in every way. Tasha continued on to her car.
“Hey, I thought I’d take us. I know how hard it is to walk, let alone drive after a race. That’s why I pulled the Stang out of the parking lot.”
“Thanks, but no. I’m driving tonight.”
“Why?” She could feel his warm body following closely behind her.
“It’s called self-preservation.”
“What does that mean?”
She stopped in her tracks and turned around. She was feeling better by the second. It had helped to get out of that claustrophobic building and into the night air. “I want to make sure I have a ride home.” She gave him her tough courtroom stare.
“Well, of course you’ll have a ride home!”
Tasha folded her arms at her waist, biting her lip. “I highly doubt that. When I used to hang with you and Tim, there wasn’t one gala I can recall ever getting a ride back from.”
“You and I never went to any galas together,” he countered.
The familiar jab in the gut was there again. That old sting of being easily forgotten. “Oh, I went to some events with you two. Let’s see ….”
She put her clutch under her arm and began counting on her fingers.