Head Over Wheels (Spicy Young Romance) Read online

  From the time I was a little girl I loved all kinds of mystery: novels, movies, stories I'd cook up to entertain my family. I was a born actress, a ham, prancing around our living room, imitating actors, starring in self-created roles.

  I molded myself into the cast of every CSI drama I watched on TV, knowing one day I'd solve actual crimes. Crawl into the mind of the underworld. Clean the city of filth. That was my mission in life. But until graduation, the closest I could come was catching shoplifters in one of the finest upscale stores in Manhattan.

  "How was your day?" Emma yawned out in her soft voice.

  "I nabbed two old ladies who tried to smuggle out three-hundred-dollar swimsuits." I chuckled. "They looked like two stuffed sausages. I spotted them before the alarm went off." Remembering the shock on their faces when I half dragged them into the office and patted them down, I laughed harder. "They had a good eye for style, though." Lifting myself off the stool I stretched, stood in the center of the room, then dropped into a chair across from Emma.

  "Speaking of shopping. Did you pick up a helmet?"

  "They had to order one. My head didn't fit anything in the store." I twirled my hair around a finger.

  "Must be all those brains." Emma laughed and rolled lithely to her feet. "Okay. I'm recharged. Let's go out to eat."

  I shook my head. "I should be used to you by now. No means an eventual yes. Do you do this with men?"

  She shot me a smirk and went to her room to change. When she walked back in, we looked pretty close to twins. Both wearing jeans and T-shirts, sandals and handbags slung over a shoulder, the main difference between us was our builds and hair texture. Before walking out the door, I pulled my heavy waves into a pink elastic band, and shoved a blue one into Emma's hand.

  Riding the elevator was always a trip. Guys never failed to hit on us. Nikos called us the bosom buddies; obviously serious about the bosom observation. And did he love to observe.

  He had a name for everyone – and every part of my body. One of the things I found beguiling was his free spirit. A confirmed bachelor, he'd confessed, moments before deserting me on a street corner after our last dinner, leaving me to face a confused and lonely walk home.

  "I wonder what he's up to these days?" I mumbled, thinking aloud. "In a relationship, ya think? Committed?"

  Although she feigned surprise, Emma knew exactly to whom I referred. "Who the hell knows. And we're not supposed to be regurgitating Nikos, remember? Bank account's empty."

  I still had to wonder: Does he call another woman's body parts the same things he'd called mine? Nikos once said my eyes looked like delicious balls of toffee, and they matched my chewable nipples. He said they made him percolate, brewing passion stronger than an over-caffeinated pot of Columbian roast coffee. And with that accent, believe me, his words came out a hell of a lot sexier than I could ever make them sound. At least those memories no longer weakened my reserve. They just pissed me off. What was the word? Deceptive. Yup, that was Nikos.

  Chatting and dishing, we hiked down West 34th.

  "What do you feel like?" I hadn't eaten since breakfast, and my stomach growled, gnawed.

  "How about Chang's?"

  "Too bloating. Diner's got yummy wraps."

  "Nah. I could go something spicy."

  "Mexican?"

  "Umm. Not really."

  "We're not getting anywhere..." I took Em's arm and pulled her toward Quiznos' glass door.

  "Ah ah." She tapped me with one of her hip-bumps, which had absolutely no impact. "I had it for lunch."

  I redirected my steps. "Perfect, Kim. I'll starve while you decide what you'd like to eat."

  She burst out laughing, pulling in the direction of the diner.

  "Oooh," I froze in my tracks. "Bistro."

  "Mmm. Panini. We can eat outside."

  Emma and I ate at Landon's Bistro. We ended up pigging out on veggie wraps and iced coffee. We skipped dessert. Both on health kicks, wasted calories meant extra time at the gym, something Emma would love. I would not. Dancing was all the exercise I needed.

  "So." Em pushed her plate aside. "What are you going to do about the hunk?"

  I scrunched my mouth and raised a brow, shooting her my are you out of your mind look. "I'll probably never see him again, so why would I even entertain such ridiculous thoughts?" I drained the last drop of coffee through my straw, then pulled a small mirror from my bag to inspect my lips. You never knew who you might run into ... Okay, so I was hoping.

  Elbows on table, chin in palms, Emma stared, her cocoa eyes penetrating.

  "Don't analyze me."

  "I'm thinking."

  "You're not thinking. You have that shrink look on your face."

  "Don't be so flippant, Jewel." Her square jaw set. "I only want what's best for you. And going out with someone other than Pete will pull you out of this slump."

  I thought of protesting ... but she was on the fast track. "Okay, Doctor Kim. I'm your patient. I'm paying you a hundred and fifty bucks an hour to straighten my life out." I could feel the muscles of my face tighten. "How would I go about finding this guy? And even if I did, then what? Come on, doc. What advice would you give me for a hundred and fifty bucks?"

  "Two hundred." She was eerily emphatic.

  "Very funny." She had me going. I liked talking about him. It made the absolutely nothing meeting more interesting ... inviting ... exciting. Still, I wasn't about to work my overactive imagination into reality. "Really, Em. What would you do?" Without looking in a mirror, I knew my eyes pleaded, and I didn't like it one bit.

  "I'd be there at the same time tomorrow, looking irresistible. If he's interested, he'll be there, Jewel. And if he's there, and shows interest, well, then you'll know for sure."

  "What? You think it was my imagination?" I couldn't help but remember the look in his eyes. It wasn't something anyone could have been prepared for; and it wasn't something anyone could fake. It was definitely a genuine reaction to sometime unanticipated. The exact origin of the look ... the meaning ... was yet to be determined.

  "I didn't say that," Emma defended. "But if he makes actual contact this time, then you'll know he's not pass time flirting. And that he really wants to meet you."

  At the thought, my stomach dipped. I rubbed goose bumps from my arms. Get a grip, girl! He's just another guy, for Pete's sake. Pete ...

  "Shit."

  "What's wrong?"

  "I was supposed to meet Pete at seven." I didn't have to check my cell to realize seven p.m. had come and gone. The sun vanished behind the skyline, and the only light came from stores and street lamps. If talking about him made me feel like this, lose time, imagine being with him? I could lose more than time.

  "Let's get going," I dropped two dollars on the table, stood, and slung my bag over a shoulder. Em did the same.

  As we headed for home, the rent controlled apartment Em's aunt owned, I pulled out my cell and texted Pete an apology.

  "You two have the weirdest relationship. It's like you're married without benefits."

  "Or restrictions." I laughed.

  "There's such a thing as negative dependency." Her eyes followed her straight nose, pointing right at me.

  “He’s like a big brother, and don’t act like I’m a patient.” I stood with hands on hips. “I don’t have to rely on anyone or anything but myself. And I don’t second guess myself, either, which I know you’re about to accuse me of. I know exactly what I’m doing and where I’m heading.”

  “Oh, so now you’re a mind reader too.” She laughed. “I didn't know they taught clairvoyance at Jay."

  “Insight is not taught.” I smirked. “It’s a natural born talent.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  Before calling it a night we stopped to buy makeup, which took another hour, then hoofed it back to the apartment and watched TV. I found concentration difficult; I did my best self-analysis under water.

  "Crap." On my way out of the shower, I complained, "It's almost midnight.
I'll have bags under my eyes tomorrow. Great way to start a mission."

  Emma stood at the doorway. I paused for her to bolster my morale. "Well, at least you won't be bloated." She wiped steam off the bathroom mirror and stared at herself. "Unlike problems, veggie wraps disintegrate in a matter of hours."

  HUNTING COLLEGE JOE

  Before sunrise, I headed out the door in a turquoise bra top and black Capri leggings, lugging a sweater and racing thoughts, wondering if my perfectly planned stalk would have a positive outcome. If I timed it right I'd reach Kelly's at the same time as college Joe. Feeling thoroughly prepped, I hoped for a repeat of history.

  As I walked down the street anxiety built and my head filled with "what ifs". Then it hit me: really ... what if? What was I doing?

  It wasn't even rush hour and the place was a mob scene. Couldn't some of these people find somewhere else to buy their morning coffee? My stomach quivered, along with my jaw, both rebelling, gripping tighter than my pants. Was I wearing the right outfit? Why didn't I just wear jeans and a T-shirt?

  My brain went into non-stop-nag mode. What am I gonna do – walk around the entire café inspecting faces? Examine the top half of every guy's torso while searching for the special one that had almost knocked me off my feet?

  Attempting to scour the place discreetly, I didn't see the chair leg that tripped me. I lost my balance, but thankfully grabbed onto a guy whose jaw dropped when I hung onto him for dear life. Not thankful for him though, as the shoulder I commandeered was attached to the arm I accidentally jerked into the air. A nightmare unfolded when the cup of steaming coffee he clutched flew out of his hand.

  "Save me, Lord," I whispered as black liquid saturated the front of his suit jacket. Hmm. Armani?

  "Oh my God ... did you get burned?" I gushed while reaching for a handful of napkins, ready to swab him off. "It's so ... crowded ... in ... here ..." My cheeks didn't need the burgundy blush I'd patted on less than an hour earlier.

  I must have looked about to cry, or beg, or faint, maybe all three, because the anger in his eyes disappeared and a smile sprouted. Then he slowly assessed my shirt, my hips. Stop right there buddy ...

  "Grab a seat. I'll buy us a cup of coffee." His eyes worked their way back up to mine, which were still wide and straining as he shrugged out of his jacket.

  The guy was gracious. He could have been a professional, maybe an attorney, and he was being nice, maybe too nice. I knew the incident had attracted stares. Eyes all over me, I feared a coronary. Oh merciful heaven. Not like that hideous dream. Please! Let's not go there. Why am I here? What am I doing? Wait till I get my hands around Emma Kim's throat! Had I eaten breakfast, I might have hurled it over the poor guy's chest. Even worse, his impeccably styled head of hair.

  "You look like you need something stronger than this." With a snarky grin, he held up his empty cup like a trophy. "Come on. Have a seat." He dragged out the chair beside him.

  "That's okay." I managed a smile that didn't seem to go along with my internal turmoil. "I'm late for class. I have to run."

  Kelly's was buzzing, faces a blur. The café seemed to shrink around me, then everything started to spin. I had to get out of there. Pronto.

  That's when it happened. Of course, at the most inopportune time. I was so unprepared. I knew schemes rarely unraveled as planned, but things couldn't have been worse. My mission had been canceled by an unknown force. Maybe it was meant to be this way. I lifted my face to the ceiling. Grandma, is that you trying to tell me something? Maybe I'm not supposed to ever see him again. Is that it? Couldn't you have tipped me off earlier? Before I walked into this mess?

  There he was. Dear Lord. Standing in line. Exactly like the day before, the look on his face a startling replica. Was this an accidental do-over? Was I freaking out? Yes! I was freaking out. Let me out of here, my mind shrieked. My hands trembled. My legs began to buckle. I felt the blood drain from my tingling face which would then turn stark white for the first time in my life.

  The speech Em and I had concocted was spilled all over the expensive jacket of some amorous stranger. My heart was in overdrive, skipping beats. And to make matters worse, I'd have to walk right by gorgeous to get out the door. So I did the next best thing. I hid in the ladies' room for five minutes. That would give him enough time to grab his coffee and vacate the premises. Please be gone, I prayed as I stepped out of the bathroom, blotting the ice-cold water I'd thrown at my cheeks, my eyes darting every which way.

  Just my luck. A single barista handling two lines. What the hell? Punished. I was being punished for something I must have done. It must have been horrendous for heaven to impose such a dreadful sentence.

  Okay, Jewel. You can do this. Quietly skim by. Brace those legs. Look calm. BE calm. Deep breath. That's it. In and out. In and out. Soft breaths. I moved as if in a dream, a sleepwalking basket case, not feeling my arms, my legs, my slinking footsteps. I busied myself, digging into my bag for nothing while looking straight ahead. But ... as fate would have it, the line he was on merged with the other, altering his position, bringing him even closer to the insignificant space I was trying to sneak through. And then he turned. Why? I had no clue, but this time, when his eyes reached out to mine, a shadow of a smile crept across his lips, and I swore his gaze did a head to toe sweep ... of me.

  I steadied myself, ready to cast him my dimpliest smile, willing my voice to return, along with my confidence: of course I was thinking ahead, planning an opening conversation. But there it was again ... that troubling expression on his face. Moody? God, I hoped not. Solemn? Heartbroken – that was the look. Please don't let him be crushing on someone who didn't love him back. What girl in her right mind wouldn't have loved him back?

  My heart skipped a few more beats. Rushing adrenaline shot through my limbs, jellifying my brain. I couldn't believe it. I hadn't felt this way since my first high school crush which ended in disaster when I slid across the cafeteria floor thanks to the banana peel that adhered to the sole of my shoe.

  Nikos was a thing of the past. I'd had time to come to terms with being dumped instead of dumping. This wasn't rebound. Maybe not even the flavor of the month. It was something I just knew. Like when the clock struck twelve, you knew it was noon. Wait ... maybe midnight. I was so confused, but one thing for sure. This guy could be capable of eradicating the resentment that knotted my stomach if I lost control. If I lost control? What a joke.

  Maybe the look in his eyes hastened my recovery. Was it vulnerability? Was there something inside him that could somehow match the disturbance shuddering inside me? The uncertainty? The longing?

  As though I'd grown wings, my body turned fluid and capable. Next thing I knew, my ballet flats slid across the floor, bringing me close enough to see his eyes were green, no, blue, wait, gray? They looked versatile, changing with the colors he wore. In tan Khakis and peach pullover, they appeared turquoise: big, bright, tropical seas.

  Skimming past bodies, drawing looks from customers acting as if I were a line-cutter, heated my face, but I didn't care. I was back on course. And this was a mission. The adrenaline I thought I'd depleted surged. Hopefully, the rush would remain hidden beneath my olive complexion.

  A second barista appeared and the snaking line divided in two, stealing him further from my planned invasion. In a final attempt I closed in and stuck an arm between two women, excused myself, slipped up to the counter and snatched a couple of packets of sugar to go with my invisible coffee. I couldn't just glide up to him, but I could angle my body just the right way ... and that's precisely what I did.

  Apparently, he noticed my maneuvers. "Mocha latte?" The slight curl of his lips angelic, but oh so sexy.

  Was he as nervous as me? I found my voice, about to accept his gracious offer – was it an offer? Hold on, Jewelia – when for some reason, as he gazed over my head the smile slid from his face like a dying sun. Then his luscious lips drew into a brittle line and his eyes were no longer on mine. The reason turned out to be a scra
wny blonde who wedged herself between us, shot me a dirty look, then turned her back, completing the takeover in a slithering second. Talk about insults. Stuck up bitch, I wanted to scream as I slammed her in the jaw. With what had to be Divine Intervention, I kept my hands from balling at my sides and did neither. The pulse of my cell phone had to have been my saving grace.

  Pete: Reminder. Movie night

  Of course, I'd forgotten.

  Me: Can't wait

  Liar.

  Pete: Dinner first @ Six

  Me: Already starving

  Pete: Laters

  Me: Pete?

  Pete: Yeah Kit Kat?

  Me: Miss U

  Pete: Miss u 2 babe

  So, that was that. I left Kelly's without my latte fix, even more devastating, without making actual contact. I jogged ten blocks to the class for which I was about to be late. All for nothing! My ballets flew, coming to a squeaking halt before my classroom door. After this, I'd have cause to skip the gym. By the time I collapsed in my seat my feet ached, but my ballerinas bore the brunt of the mad dash. Professor Eidlehorn was in the middle of explaining why acid wouldn't permanently erase fingerprints. No one seemed to notice that I was panting. Maybe they just didn't care. I fought to focus, and ward off my professor's lethal breath when he leaned into me as he dropped an assignment in my lap.

  "Highest grade in the class, Miss Delarosa." Did he eat raw onions every morning?

  "Thank you, Jarrod." I felt odd calling him by his first name, but since he insisted ...

  College Joe and our hijacked meeting haunted me: his face, her face, my agitation, clumped into a boiling knot in the pit of my stomach. But I couldn't let it eat me alive. If I was getting back in the game, about to deal with a bitch like her, I'd need to grow thick skin ... hard and fast ... show her – no him – who the better woman was.