Embrace, Entice, Emblaze (6 page)

We walked in to find the place already packed with people. I

spotted Dad on the far side of the restaurant, waving like an idiot.

Steph eyed our hot waiter as he escorted us to the table, which was nestled beneath countless stunning chandeliers in a section that was rimmed with a mass of long, luxurious scarlet drapes. As we followed, the waiter spun around to catch Steph gawking at his

backside. He gave her a wink, obviously well practiced in the art of keeping the customer happy while gunning for big tips. Steph, of course, lapped it up.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a waitress with bright- red hair over in the bar area. She looked familiar.

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“You look beautiful, Violet,” Dad said, standing up as we

approached. “You too, Steph. Red is definitely your color.”

Steph smiled. Her red mini dress was a tribute to the eighties. She had a knack for making new look retro, and with her slim figure and edgy white- blond hair, she could always effect the dramatic.

“Come on then,” Dad chirped at me. “Give us a spin.” He

twirled a finger in the air.

I turned around with my hands on my waist, lingering to let

them appreciate the back view of the dress. When I returned to face them, sporting a mock model pose, I froze. Lincoln had appeared out of nowhere. He wore a sexy smile and looked gorgeous in

black jeans and an untucked black shirt. I turned quickly to Steph, who was beaming from ear to ear, totally aware of my shock. My

eyes darted to the table and I saw what I should have noticed

immediately— four chairs and two open beer bottles.

Dad was grinning stupidly with his “I made her” look. It wasn’t that dissimilar from the look he gave buildings he’d designed.

“Steph, you did good, kid.” He glanced around the room and

added, “Would’ve done even better if you’d managed to find her

a shawl too.”

Steph rolled her eyes before she leaned over and whispered in

my ear. “Oh sorry, did I forget to mention that I invited him to dinner too? Oops.” She batted her eyelids innocently.

I looked at Lincoln and he smiled back at me, sending my

stomach into a frenzy.

“Hey,” I said, failing to keep the surprise out of my voice.

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“Hey. I was in the bathroom,” he said, as if that explained

everything.

“Yeah, sure. It’s good to…thanks for coming.”
“Thanks
for
coming”? Can I be any more infantile?

Lincoln looked down at the table and cleared his throat. “You

look…that dress is stunning.” His eyes flashed up at me and quickly away again. My heart skipped a beat and I blushed.

Dad and Lincoln pulled out chairs for us to sit. While looking

over the menu, I took a deep breath. Lincoln and Dad had been

alone. God knows what was said before Steph and I got there.

I needed to calm down—
big
time
. Steph’s idea of alcohol was becoming more and more appealing.

After our drinks arrived and we’d ordered, Dad excused himself

to go to the bathroom. Steph waited approximately one micro-

second before reaching under the table into her bag. She flashed a small bottle of vodka at me along with a wicked grin. After taking a big slurp of her orange juice, she slid it off the table, topped it up with vodka, and then returned it, casually stirring her straw. She looked at me with wide eyes. My turn.

I glanced at Lincoln. A questioning look crossed his face.

What
the
hell
.

I took a gulp and passed my lemonade to Steph. I didn’t look

in her direction again but I could feel the satisfaction oozing from her. Given half the chance, she would have jumped up and done a victory dance.

Despite my initial nervousness, everyone chatted easily over

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dinner. Dad quizzed Steph on her college preferences, and Steph and Lincoln enjoyed their usual teasing banter. The main course was delicious, dessert even better— apart from the embarrassing attempt the waiters made at putting a candle in my soufflé and

singing “Happy Birthday.” Watching the soufflé sink as they

sang pretty much encapsulated the way I felt about birthdays. I was at least starting to feel more relaxed thanks to Dad ducking outside for a phone call, allowing for another heavy- handed

top-off à la Steph.

“It’s generally not a fifty- fifty pour, Steph,” Lincoln said wryly.

“Don’t worry, Lincoln,” she teased. “There’s plenty left. Do you want some?”

He shook his head, but he was fighting the urge to smile as

he looked at me. “Someone has to keep up the conversation with

Violet’s dad.”

For a second I worried that Lincoln would think we were imma-

ture, but one look at Steph and we both burst out laughing.

As soon as Dad returned, he paid the bill and proceeded to

fidget, checking his watch repetitively. Dad was too easy to read.

“Work problems?” I asked.

He nodded. “Do you mind? I really have to get in to the office

and sort something out.” He was already standing as I nodded to let him off the hook.

Dad said his good- byes, apologizing for his early departure

and adding a little theater for Steph and Lincoln’s benefit—

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place,” it may not be such a bad thing. Of course, Lincoln dutifully promised to see me home safely— not that Dad had thought to ask.

We settled into a luxurious chaise and ordered more drinks.

Music pumped through the bar area, which faced onto the dance

floor. I could see why Jase liked working at this place— the DJ pit was huge, with state- of- the- art decks and a captive audience in the bar. DJ heaven.

“Hi, Violet!” the waitress called out over the music when she

delivered our drinks.

I looked up.

Shit.

It was the girl I’d noticed earlier. It was one of those awful

moments when, for the life of you, someone’s name just won’t

come into your head. She had been a couple of years ahead of us at school and she’d taken the same community art course as me last year during the holidays. I knew she was a painter/sculptor, that she came from a big family, and was quiet but nice. I stared at her for a moment too long, willing her petite frame and bright- red hair to trigger my memory.

“Hi!” I said, a ridiculous smile plastered on my face before

shooting a desperate glance at Steph. She never forgets a name. She never forgets anything.

Steph shimmied forward on her chair. “Hey,
Claudia
!” she yelled.

“So, you work here,” I said, relaxing a little.

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “I’m working a couple of night jobs, waitressing. Good tips, you know.”

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She piled our empty glasses onto her tray. Her eyes darted to

Lincoln.

“Oh, sorry. Claudia, this is Lincoln.”

They nodded at each other. Claudia turned back to me with

an approving look. She’d obviously assumed Lincoln was my

boyfriend. I smiled, enjoying the pretense.

“Well, have a good night.” She glanced at our drinks knowingly.

“Thanks,” I said, suddenly paranoid we’d shortly be escorted

from the premises.

Steph just shrugged it off, saying Claudia wouldn’t care, and

proceeded to enhance our drinks as soon as she was out of sight.

Lincoln, who had now moved on to Coke, seemed less than

impressed. When Steph jiggled the bottle in his direction, he just shook his head and leaned back on the couch.

It didn’t take long before Steph spotted her brother with some

of his friends and went to join them at the bar. Her attempts at subtlety were flawed— as was her balance, I noted.

Lincoln and I were finally alone. This was my chance. I was

freaking out. I grabbed my half- filled glass and drained it. Lincoln snatched the empty glass from my hand. I couldn’t help giggling.

“What’s going on with you, Vi? You’ve been acting strange all

night,” he said, sounding older than he was.

“Lincoln,” I said in mock disapproval. “It’s my birthday! Excuse me if I’ve
finally
given in and am trying to have a good time.” He looked at me for a moment. “I was hoping we might get a

chance to talk about…things.”

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“Oh.” He actually looked sincere, damn it. Defensive banter

was all I had going for me right now. I slumped back against the couch and one of my dress straps slid down my shoulder.

Lincoln suddenly leaned forward. “What happened?” he asked,

gesturing to my mysterious red scratch. I had forgotten about it, but as soon as he mentioned it, it began to sting.

“Um…I don’t know. I can’t remember doing it. It’s possible it

happened in a dream,” I said. I realized I was slurring my words a little.

His eyes flickered as he studied me. “Anything else?”

“What?”

“I mean, has anything else…changed since turning seventeen?”

I laughed. “Not really. No wrinkles yet. No, no changes…” But

then I remembered. “That is, unless the veins in my arms going a weird color count,” I said with a tipsy shrug. The moment I said it, I wished I hadn’t.

Lincoln grabbed my arm in a move so fast I barely saw it. He was unusually rough; I was certain it would leave a bruise. He inspected my veins in the dim light. They now looked a strong, steely, aqua color. He ran his fingers over the intricate patterns, studying them until I began to feel vaguely uncomfortable.

I wriggled. “Umm, Linc. I was only joking. Can I have my

arm back?”

He released my arm and I held it close to my body a little self-consciously, rubbing the spot he had grabbed.

“Did this happen today?” He sounded worried, and frankly,

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now so was I. This conversation was not going in the direction I had intended.

“I think so. Don’t worry; it’s nothing.”

“You’re probably right,” he said, running his eyes over the rest of my body. He bit his bottom lip and pushed a hand through his hair. I watched, fascinated. He wasn’t usually the nervous type.

“Well,” he started, heading toward an obvious subject change,

“I know you didn’t want a birthday present…” He saw the look

of horror on my face and held up a hand to stop the protest

that was about to fly out of my mouth. “So I’m not giving you

anything.
But
…I might have installed a new espresso machine at the warehouse.”

I couldn’t hide my delight. Badgering him to get a proper

espresso machine fell second only to bugging him to let me paint one of his walls. Without thinking, I threw myself into his arms.

“Oh my God, I love you!”

His arms instinctively wrapped around me, but I felt him tense

as soon as my words registered. He wasn’t the only one. My stomach flipped over so fast it was like a spin cycle on a washing machine.

Did he hear?
Of
course
he
heard!
Everyone hears
those
words.

He pulled back from the hug. His mesmerizing green eyes fixed

on me, searching out the meaning of my words. I did the only

thing I could; I looked straight back at him and pretended I’d never said them. His hands slid to my hips and lingered. I could feel his heat through the thin fabric of my dress. My breath quickened as I silently willed, prayed, begged him not to let go. But as I pressed 47

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closer, his hands suddenly dropped from my sides, and without

further ado, the great walls of Lincoln were once again intact.

“You’re welcome,” he said kindly as much as cruelly, ignoring

the slip of tongue we both knew he’d heard.

My cheeks burned and I looked away. I could sense Lincoln

shifting back, distancing himself.

A guy sitting at the bar caught my eye. He didn’t look much

older than me, though I couldn’t see him that well. Dressed all in black, he kind of melted into the dim light. Every girl around him seemed to be turned in his direction but he didn’t appear to care.

He was watching me. Fixedly. I was, for a moment, entranced, as he tilted his drink ever so slightly in my direction. I blushed even redder. I always felt awkward when strangers looked at me,
really
looked at me, the way this guy was.

I turned back to Lincoln. Steph was right— I needed to take

control of this situation before it drove me insane. I jumped up and grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the dance floor.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m going to dance. I— ” I stumbled in my high heels.

Lincoln grabbed my elbow to steady me. “You’re a terrible

drunk,” he said, but he couldn’t help the small smile.

I tried for a serious face. “I’m tipsy,” I corrected, “and it’s my birthday and I want to dance. Come on, Linc, it won’t kill you.” When we reached the barrier of people surrounding the dance

floor, I noticed again the stranger at the bar, sitting dead still, examining me. The base of my neck tingled.

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