Cherry Blossom Girl Ch. 02

"Go out with me and find out."

"All in the name of research, right?"

"Something like that. You could be my lab partner..." He ran the backs of his fingers along her nape. "I bet you were a good student," he purred.

"How'd you guess?"

Her curiosity burned as Ty studied her. "Your eyes..." He took a sip of his drink. She resisted the urge to roll them at the tired line men abused in clubs across the nation. "Even when you're having fun, you're studying everything that's going on around you."

She lifted her glass in salute. "You got me."

"Not yet, sweetness."

Sascha shook her head at his delightfully absurd cockiness. She wasn't sure if he took himself seriously and not knowing the answer made talking to him fun.

Ty pulled out his cell phone from his shirt pocket and handed it to her. "I'm heading out soon, put your number in for me."

"It's still early." She hoped she didn't sound too disappointed.

"Long ass shift." He turned to Ben. "I'm out."

She stood to let him exit the booth. He patted his pocket. "We'll talk soon."

"Goodnight."

Liya and Natalie looked at her like a pair of doting aunts. Aunt Natalie spoke first. "I think he's gonna call. He definitely likes you."

She did her best to contain her optimism and failed. "We'll see."

"He's a good guy," said Ben.

With a surge of energy and alcohol in her veins, she motioned to her friends. "Let's dance!"

One club anthem crashed into another. The sea of swaying bodies swelled then changed while the music shimmered down her spine and led her movements. Cheers erupted as the DJ took the crowd on a musical odyssey through time, starting with a remix of Tone Loc's Wild Thing.

The notorious guitar riff took possession of her body and she attracted a dance partner whose choreographed moves matched her natural verve. The only hiccup? It wasn't that Brian with the Jersey accent was a college sophomore. No, it was his neon yellow, I'm-too-young-for-you wristband. Her suddenly not-so-doting aunts had a blast with it.

Natalie danced closer by. "Way to go Mrs. Robinson."

Sascha rolled her eyes but she couldn't contain her smile. "Ha-ha, you're so funny."

Liya said, "Maybe we should call her Demi."

"Hey! Remember I'm covering for you tomorrow. Be nice."

Brian reached for her hand and they danced until Sascha's feet burned. She hadn't had this much fun in a year.

Natalie tapped Seth's arm after the group left the floor. "I can't fucking believe it—twelve o'clock at the bar, look!"

All heads turned in various directions but Liya hit the mark first. Her jaw dropped.

"That's just wrong on so many levels," Natalie said to her.

"What?" Sascha prompted then followed the line of Liya's finger to land on Stav...making out with a pint sized...Helena? Liya's sympathetic expression confirmed it. She looked again. Ugh. They were really, really going at it.

While the group speculated about what would happen between the two and whether this was the first time, Sascha ordered her third amaretto sour. By the time she drained the glass of half its contents, she didn't care that Stav and Helena had disappeared. Well, not that much anyway. Besides what was she supposed to do? Confront a subordinate over a guy she'd never been alone with? When everyone decided to call it a night, she couldn't have been more relieved.

"We should get together sometime soon." Brian said to her with eager bravado as the group gathered outside to say their goodbyes. "What's your number?"

Oh, Lord. He was nice and cute, really cute with those bright blue eyes but not cute enough to make their seven year age-gap disappear. She felt all twitchy inside. Rejecting someone always sucked and doing it while his friends stood mere feet away made it worse. There was only one option.

"It's...8675...309." She didn't know which was more unbelievable that she'd managed a semi-straight face or that the numbers didn't register for Brian. Yeah, she'd been spot on about the age thing.

Ben lost it. Sascha sent him a stern look that would have melted the hair on his head if he'd had any.

Liya burst out in laughter the second Brian left with his college friends. "You're so ba-ad!"

Seth put up his best hurt face but his smile ruined the effect. "That's just plain cold, Jenny."

Stav strolled up and went on about how he'd been looking for everyone when he got the text to meet up outside. Too much story, too little truth. Helena appeared a few moments later.

"See you guys Monday. Have a good weekend," she said to everyone before she turned to Sascha with faked empathy. "Good luck with the wedding."

"Thanks," she replied. Politeness was so overrated in times like these.

"Wait, I'll walk you to your car," Stav offered Helena with an Oscar worthy show of chivalry, happily unaware of the telling glances around him.

"Isn't he a sweetheart, protecting your virtue and all?" Sascha offered with saccharine sweetness. Helena's expression turned sheepish. Must've been a momentary lapse.

A chorus of muffled snorts and chuckles played in the background of street noise.

Natalie touched Stav's wrist. "Make sure you wrap it up."

The look on Helena's face as laughter erupted was priceless.

* * *

"You okay?"

"Oh, God!" The artificial orchid on the coffee table was talking to her. Someone had spiked her drink.

"Hey. Over here."

Sascha rolled onto her back and found Noah Jameson staring down at her. She frowned and searched her brain for answers as she sat up and swung her legs off the couch. Bad idea.

"Are you okay?" His voice sounded miles away to ears used to a world of club beats and thumping bass lines. When he repeated the question, his impatience cleared the cob webs in her brain. She nodded. Bad, bad idea.

"Oh." The lobby furniture tilted. She winced and dug her fingers into the cushions as the couch turned into a roller coaster.

"Take it easy," he said, sounding more annoyed than concerned. If talking to her was such an inconvenience then why didn't he just leave her alone? "Are you waiting on someone?"

"My keys," she croaked. A bucket of water and a straw would be perfect right now even though her bladder promised to detonate sometime within the next ten minutes. Thank goodness it was dark out and very late. Peeing in the bushes. Oh, what a perfect way to cap off the night.

"Your keys..." Noah's eyes were expectant and soft and...beautiful. Sascha swallowed.

"I, uh...I left them in my friend's car...you met her...in the backseat." She played back the sentence in her head and frowned. What the hell did I just say?

"So you're waiting on her to drop them off."

"Yeah." She reached for her cell phone on the coffee table—very slowly. "She hasn't called me back and it's been an hour," she said with a pang of despair.

Noah cursed himself the instant those she went all glassy eyed on him. He should've minded his own business and gone straight to his apartment. The last thing he wanted to deal with was a weepy female and this one was headed in that direction any second now.

"You can wait at my place if you want." He regretted the words even as they slipped off his tongue.

"Really?"

Like he was going to say no now? She looked at him with those distressed cognac-brown eyes of hers and he knew he'd done the right thing. Though he wasn't eager to play host to an unexpected guest, she shouldn't be down here alone.

"Okay." She didn't sound too enthusiastic as she rose from the couch. He caught her when she staggered. The last time he'd touched her was when she'd offered him her hand to introduce herself. "Sorry."

The first thing he'd noticed about Sascha Davis all those months ago was the angles. Her squared off jaw line and high cheek bones kept her face from being round. A second look revealed delicate features. Like thick, arched brows that called attention to her eyes and a cute nose that wasn't cut sharp enough to be perfect. But her mouth... Her mouth was the stuff of fantasies. A pity she didn't smile more. But the way she looked tonight, made the whole smile debate a non-issue.

"Someone had a few too many, huh?"

"Only three. Technically two-and-a half."

"Looks like that was two too many." Noah tried not to laugh when she scowled at him.

"You're not nice, you know that?"

She pulled away and bumped her knee against the couch.

"Never said I was."

He put his arm around her waist and walked her to the elevator. She felt slight against him even though the top of her head passed his shoulder.

"So you admit it."

"No...you're the one putting words in my mouth and I'm just humoring a drunk."

He tightened his hold on her, expecting her to get all huffy and try to walk off. She giggled instead and pressed closer. He wasn't big on perfumes but he liked what she wore. Her scent wasn't overly sweet or spicy. He inhaled again. The fragrance was familiar and exotic at once.

"Not drunk. Maybe a wee bit," she whispered as if no one should know. "It's more like a buzz."

"It'll be our little secret."

"Good 'cause the retirees in here would throw a fu-freakin' fit if they knew someone was having a good time after nine o' clock." Noah all but doubled over in laughter. He didn't think this serious princess ever cursed and hearing her come close was hilarious.

"You're a fun drunk."

Sascha giggled again. He liked that sound coming from her.

"Not drunk—tipsy. There's a difference."

"C'mon, plant whisperer," he said as the elevator door slid back.

She eased out of his hold as if to show him she could make it on her own, proving he'd chosen the right moniker for her. He remembered the times he saw her come home from work. She would march down the hallway like a wind-up toy, her face devoid of emotion. Her hellos always sounded as manufactured as her expression. He'd written her off as one of those suited-up types with little fire or personality until that Friday night a few months back.

His mother had worn a similar look throughout his junior high years. He'd seen the tears she worked hard to hide, the ones Hailey missed when she made her snarky comment. But Sascha Davis didn't scurry off like a wounded bird. No, she came out like a tiger ready to attack and he respected her for it.

"My name's Sascha."

"Really?"

She poked his rib. "Are you teasing me?"

"Maybe a wee wee bit."

"Please don't say wee-wee right now." Then with a bashful grin she warned, "And don't make me laugh. Don't you dare," she added he started smiling. He couldn't help it.

"After you," Noah said after he opened his door.

His neighbor had cute little body and an amazing ass—something he shouldn't be noticing as she walked ahead of him. She lives next door. His other brain heard static. Two a.m. Saturday plus a woman in his apartment usually meant one thing. And if she wasn't his neighbor he might have made a move.

The way her eyes darted around his apartment like a trapped animal noting the exits, slammed the lid on his libido. Someone had a very high opinion of herself.

"Bathroom's that way, if you need it."

"Thanks." She gave him a tentative smile. "May I have some water?"

"Sure." The task provided a welcome distraction from his thoughts. He dropped two Tylenol in her hand before he handed her the glass. "I think you're going to need these."

"You're an old pro at this, huh?" she teased but her eyes betrayed her wariness.

"Something like that." It was easier to let her believe he'd learned to deal with hangovers as a veteran of the party scene.

"Thank you."

She set down the glass on the kitchen counter and went down the hall. His hair must've grown an inch by the time she made it to the door. Not that he minded. He wondered what little Miss Muffet would have done if she'd caught him checking her out. Don't pee in your own pool, man.

Sascha leaned against the bathroom door and willed herself into sobriety before she dialed Liya again. She straddled the line between lowered inhibitions and awareness of her neighbor, a combination that couldn't be trusted. Voicemail again. Liya was probably too tangled up in Ben right now to care about a phone call. Since camping out in Noah's guest bathroom wasn't an option, she freshened up at the sink then marched down the hall with renewed vigor.

Vintage Police played in the background while she scanned his apartment. Under the stacks of papers and files divided between the coffee and dining tables was essentially a tidy apartment. Though he had the requisite big flat screen TV, his place wasn't the dark man-cave she expected. It was a deliberate, grown-up version of simple with mid-century furniture in a monochromatic scheme ranging from off-white to charcoal grey. Masculine without being heavy.

And just like in the bathroom, the walls had an array of black and white photographs. Each one told a story—a farmer's market, children soaked in water from a broken fire hydrant. Unfortunately, the Nordic milkmaid was up there too. Oh, and he had plants. That had to be a good sign.

But it didn't mean she wanted to sit next to him on the sofa, which is what the glass of water on the coffee table suggested she should do. His plaid shirt now lay draped across the gym bag on the chair leaving him with a black crew neck. She sat down and unbuckled her espadrilles, explaining how her feet hurt from dancing.

"I haven't heard this song in ages," she said as the rushed saxophone notes met up with laid back bass. "Doesn't compare to seeing them live." There was nothing sexier than the moment Dave Matthews first uttered "crazy" in his confessing, brushed nickel voice.

Well, there was one other sound.

"I know."

He did? Sascha's eyes went wide.

She recovered fast enough to seize the obvious icebreaker and started talking about the band. She rolled her eyes playfully when Noah revealed he'd gotten front row seats to the same DMB concert she attended. She'd been so excited to see them play that the Mount Everest level seats and Alex's complaints that they'd been ripped off, didn't matter. That night would've been perfect if she'd brought a roll of duct tape.

"What?" She caught him staring at her wiggling toes and when he looked up at her, she felt as though he was sizing her up. She wondered how he rated her in his mind.

"Nothing—I was going to ask you if you had a good time tonight."

It was a lie, they both knew it, so she let her smirk speak for her. "It was great," she told him, exaggerating a tad. "It's been a while since I hit the town with friends."

Yes, she'd dodged a missile with Stav. Plus a hot firefighter and a college cutie had asked her out. But a flicker of disappointment lingered. She was Cinderella minus the glass slipper and the persistent prince.

He didn't believe a word and his eyes let her know it. Sascha shrugged and reached for the glass. "Life's the same as it was yesterday. A night on the town isn't going to change it."

"Depends on the rules you play by."

The answer poked at something she didn't like so she swerved around it. They talked the polite, superficial talk people engaged in to pass the time while they were forced to share the same space. She found out Noah was working on a Masters in physical therapy while he trained a clientele of mainly pro athletes.

Thank goodness she'd ended her fling with Ben & Jerry's and walked to work most days, otherwise she would have felt like a calf when he offered that tidbit about himself. He had been under the impression that she was a lawyer, which was funny until she realized it wasn't a compliment.

Her phone interrupted their information exchange. A text. Just not the one she hoped for. Nice meeting u 2 nite. Call me if u want 2 get 2gether.

"Your friend with the keys?"

"No, a guy letting know me it's okay to ask him out on a date. Can I ask you something?"

The corner of his mouth lifted. "You just did."

His tawny beard framed the undulating line of his upper lip, highlighting its sensuality along with the lower one's fullness. What would it be like to kiss a mouth closer to the size of hers? His green eyes glittered as though he knew the answer.

"Cute." His smile broadened. "Another question then. Promise you'll give me a hundred percent honest answer."

"Depends on the question and if you promise to answer one of mine."

The notion that Noah Jameson wanted to ask her anything at all intrigued her. "Deal. What I wanted to ask was...do you think men and women always play games with each other?"

"It's inevitable." Sascha folded her arms at his lack of hesitation. "The balance is tipped in the woman's favor from the beginning."

"What?"

His eyes were incredulous. "Come on. Women control sex. You all know ahead of time whether a man has even the smallest chance. Most of the time us guys think we're changing your minds—when all we're really doing is making it okay for you to do what you wanted to all along."

"So according to you there's no such thing as romance."

Noah rested his arm along the backrest and looked at her as if she'd landed from another planet. Her eyes followed his catlike movements as he stretched his legs; she'd never met a man who exuded such raw sexuality. Dark-haired men were supposed to have the monopoly that market. Blonds were too vanilla to pull off an aura of mystery—or so she once thought.

The tiny break in his nobleman's nose added roughness and a hint of danger to his appeal. Its precise angle pointed to his mouth as though they conspired together. His mouth had a touch of the devil, she always noticed this. The bizarre observation often made her look to see if it remained true, if it was just her imagination. It wasn't and being around him this long didn't temper her fascination with the way his mouth moved.

"That's code for spending money and giving gifts to persuade a woman you like her. Romance is nothing more than marketing."

"What about taking the time to get to know each other first? That's part of the fun."

"Which is the point I was trying to make. All that 'time'," his fingers mimicked quotation marks, "is where the game gets played."

Sascha pursed her lips.

"Come on, if some guy you just met said: 'I want you, I know you want me. I can chase you for however long it takes for you decide you're okay with the idea and when it happens we'll wonder why we didn't get together sooner. Or we can dive in right now.' You'd be cool with that?"

Yes.

"It depends on the situation. Sometimes you want to take it slow and let those feelings develop over time because you want to be sure it's real. And other times, two people meet and it's more of ah—a physical thing."

"Every man wants a physical thing," he said with playful smile that stirred her imagination. What kind of things did Noah enjoy?

"But that's not all they want."

Noah scoffed.

"What about friendship and acceptance?"

"They're nice extras." The teasing glint in his green eyes made her wonder if he'd been serious at all or putting up a front.

"You can't be that cynical."

"You can't be that naïve."

Sascha raised a brow. "Oh. You've never been in love."

It sounded like an indictment to Noah.

"Yes, I have." And it had been good— just not everything.

"Really," she said in a tone not neutral enough to disguise her skepticism while she watched him.

It was as if she saw right through him and knew he'd fantasized about what it would be like to find the woman he could spend forever with. He used to daydream about her, imagined her voice, her face, the things they'd do together. Sometimes he thought he caught glimpses of her in the women he'd dated and lusted after, two of whom had left their mark.

His rogue idealist streak put too much emphasis on what was missing at the expense of enjoying what it was, so he kept it in check. Now here sat Sascha Davis with her know-it-all grin and her my-love-was-bigger-than-yours mien. He should've left her ass downstairs.