I couldn’t believe Ace Bennett came into the bank again. I knew he lived upstairs in one of the swanky condos in this building, and it wasn’t exactly out of his way to stop by, but for fuck’s sake, that story about helping his nephew buy a Mother’s Day present? Did he really think I would buy that bullshit?
Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have humored him by accepting his bet. But there was something undeniably appealing about him. It wasn’t his personality. It was his smoldering good looks: the slightly ruffled dark hair, the magnificently sculptured jawline, the incessant smirky smile, and the soul-piercing dark brown eyes.
The only reason I’d been able to pull off my faux ice queen demeanor was because of what Ace Bennett didn’t know:
My friends already had him on their radar. After his second trip into the bank a couple weeks ago, I was out for drinks with my best friend Corrie and her older sister Cara. Corrie was the reason I’d chosen Philadelphia when I decided to start a new chapter in my life. She was already here, living her best life and making it look pretty amazing. Cara was the director of a nonprofit or something classy like that. Corrie was her sister’s administrative assistant and roommate.
“What’s new at the bank?” Cara had asked as she sipped her appletini, her delicate fingers wrapped around the stem of the glass. She was #goals. Always so elegantly dressed, her makeup flawless, never a hair out of place.
“Oh, so get this!” I’d set my glass down on the table so hard, it nearly shattered. I was not the most graceful person anyway, but add a couple drinks, and I was at least fifty percent less graceful. “This dude has come into the bank twice now this week, and I think today’s visit was just to flirt with me!”
“Oh yeah?” Corrie leaned in, eager to hear the details.
I laughed. “Yeah, and I’m pretty sure he lives in the bank building—you know the luxury condos on the top floors?”
“Oh, that’s right, you’re at the Liberty Place branch, aren’t you?” Cara verified, setting her martini glass down and crossing her slim, elegant legs.
Is it possible to have leg-crossing envy? I nodded. “Yep.”
“I know a guy who lives up there,” she’d said with a sheepish smile. “But he’s a real asshole.”
“Oh yeah? Who is it?” I didn’t even give her a chance to tell me before I blurted out, “It’s not Ace Bennett, is it?”
The strangest look warped her lovely features with a mixture of disappointment and rage. “Actually, yes! One and the same!”
I rolled my eyes. “Figures. He’s really cute too.” Should have known a guy who looks like that is an asshole, I’d told myself.
“How do you know him?” Corrie looked like a big bowl of popcorn would enhance her enjoyment of this conversation.
“I thought he was cute too…at first,” Cara confessed. “But then I learned firsthand why he’s known as a notorious asshole.”
“Notorious?” Corrie and I both repeated.
“Yeah, so get this.” Cara leaned in to dish after taking a fortifying sip of her martini and brushing her silky brunette locks off her shoulder. “I met him at one of our benefits a couple months ago. We had a few drinks afterwards, and he asked for my number. But he never called.”
It was hard to imagine a guy not calling a girl like Cara. She was a catch. If she didn’t float his boat—how could I?
“Then I ran into him a few weeks later at a party—and he didn’t even remember meeting me!” Cara exclaimed indignantly, then rolled her eyes and took another drink. “The next day, I asked around the Foundation about him—several ladies knew of him and his buddies, who are apparently all living off his one friend’s billionaire daddy’s dime. They would have warned me if I’d just done my due diligence and asked around after we met the first time. But I was so charmed by his ridiculous smirk and those dark, soulful eyes that I made out with him at the party. Then he still didn’t call me.” She made a tsk sound and set her glass down again. “But at least I’ve saved you from making the same mistake!”
“Wow!” Corrie and I had exclaimed in unison.
Cara’s features became enraptured in a blissful, far-away look. Her eyes remained transfixed on some point in the distance as her lips parted to confess, “That kiss we shared was the most amazing kiss ever…”
I imagined Cara had been the recipient of plenty of kisses in her time. She was gorgeous and was always dating someone. She’d just never found the perfect guy she wanted to settle down with. But she would. Apparently it wouldn’t be Ace Bennett. And I couldn’t blame her for that.
She still seemed to be in a trance of her memories when she continued, “It was one of those kisses where the man grabs your face, breathes in your scent like it’s the very essence of a goddess, brushes his lips against yours, and then deepens the kiss with the passion and heat of a million stars.”
I sighed just then remembering her poetic description. Hearing it the first time almost made me swoon.
I’d been waiting for a kiss like that my entire life. I wasn’t exactly a virgin; I’d been with my share of men. But they were all so inexperienced and fumbly. I was twenty-six and still waiting for my first sexual experience that totally took my breath away.
And, for that reason alone, I was scrambling around my apartment trying to put together an outfit to wear to Ace’s comedy show at a bar a couple blocks away. My roommate, Shelly, was out for the evening, which gave me the freedom to parade around half-naked as I weighed the pros and cons of approximately twenty-nine distinct outfits. I finally settled on a simple black dress with a V-neck that accentuated the girls, and a pair of strappy red kitten heels. It was a chilly April evening, so I grabbed a red sweater to throw over my ensemble and headed out of the house.
My golden blonde hair tumbled around my shoulders in the gentle evening breeze as I made my way down the street. I’d moved to the city last year after my long-term relationship with Paul Morgan fizzled out. He was a nice guy, but boring as hell. If Paul were a crayon, he would be gray. A non-descript, completely neutral and unexceptional gray.
If Ace Bennett were a crayon, he’d be neon green or something—one of those colors that’s shocking and annoying, but also grabs your attention and won’t let go. There was a constant challenge in his gaze. I got a shiver down my spine when I imagined him on stage. Would he stare at me in the crowd? Would he deliver his punchlines directly to me? Or would I make him too nervous? The idea of making him nervous was, I have to admit, rather exhilarating.
I wondered how he could forget someone who looks like Cara and yet come into the bank multiple times to flirt with me. Obviously, he’s just looking for another victim of his assholish ways, I determined. Maybe he thought Cara was too worldly and sophisticated to fall for his ploys. She probably would have laughed him right out of the bank with that stupid Crown Royal bag and nephew story.
The bar was filling with people, I noticed as the bouncer examined my ID. Being well over twenty-five, I was almost to the point of finding that kind of scrutiny flattering, but not quite. I should have asked Corrie to meet me. I felt weird being here by myself, but part of the reason I’d moved to the city was to broaden my horizons and learn how to be more independent. Part of that was going places by myself, with no crutches or safety nets. I could do this. I’d have no more than three drinks, and possibly some tasty nachos, and maybe I’d end the night by seeing if Ace Bennett really did have the lips of a god.
Then maybe I could get his number and forget to call HIM, just like he’d done to Cara.
When the waiter came over, I ordered a margarita and the nachos without onions. Gotta stick with the Mexican theme—and it’s only two more weeks till Cinco de Mayo anyway. The old me would have cringed at the idea of letting Ace see me eating a huge plate of nachos, but the new and improved Ella didn’t give a rat’s ass what a guy thought of my eating habits. One look at my curvy booty and any reasonably intelligent person would surmise that I eat food, a healthy amount of it, in fact.
I settled in for a wait, trying to be in the moment and not look at my phone. That was an easy mission to accomplish when a group of guys who looked to be around my age ventured in, walking in a two-by-two formation. They parted like a squadron of fighter jets with two heading for the bar and two heading my way. I met the blue-green gaze of the beefy guy with sandy brown hair and a full beard before I realized they were actually coming for me, not just in my direction.
“This seat taken?” his smooth, deep voice oozed out of his full lips.
“Uh…” I needed that margarita STAT.
“We’re Ace’s friends,” the other guy, who had dark hair, a healthy amount of facial scruff, and almost looked like he could be Ace’s brother, explained.
I flashed them a smile that aimed to be as reassuring to myself as it was to them, and they promptly took seats at the tiny table. “I’m Ella,” I offered, fighting like hell to keep my voice from wavering. Rewarding me for my bravery, the waitress set the margarita down right in front of me before winking and flitting off toward the bar. That angel of mercy was definitely getting a good tip!
“I’m Fox,” the beefier guy answered, extending his hand for me to shake. “And this is Ozzy. Dante and Cruz are over there at the bar.” His head tilted in that direction.
So I’d been ambushed by Ace’s friends. Lovely.
“Excited to see Ace perform?” Ozzy questioned, turning his dark eyes to me.
“Uh, yeah,” I stammered. “Something like that.”
“What? You aren’t into him?” Fox asked before looking up to motion his other two friends over. Once the foursome was complete, I was surrounded by more male energy than I’d ever been subjected to at one time and in one tiny space. It was…overwhelming, to say the least. And rather tantalizing, if I’m being honest. Testosterone overload.
“He always comes into the bank,” I explained after I gulped in a deep breath, “where I work.”
The two men who joined us both had dark hair, one with brown eyes, one with green. The one who appeared to be Latino threw his head back and laughed. “Yeah, we know. We saw his Crown Royal bag today…”
I had to smirk at that. See, even his friends are aware of his bullshit! “Yeah, I didn’t buy that nephew business for a second.”
“Nephew?” the entire group of men roared. “He doesn’t even have a nephew,” one of them added.
I figured as much. He really was an asshole, wasn’t he?
Fox leaned in. “Hey, we like to make bets with each other. It’s sort of our thing.”
My eyebrows quirked. He’d made a bet with me also. Did they know? “I’m listening.”
“Well,” the one named Ozzy—I think—chimed in, “we bet him you wouldn’t go out with him after seeing his act.”
My brows furrowed. Hmm, seems like that should be my decision? “Is his act that bad?”
They all laughed. “She’s funnier than he is,” one of the guys, Cruz?, quipped.
The three sips of margarita I’d consumed were swirling in my veins. “I have it on good authority that Ace Bennett is a notorious asshole.”
More laughter. “We’ve been trying to tell him.” Ozzy shook his head, his dark eyes crinkling with amusement.
“Well, we just wanted you to know there’s a bet at stake,” Fox said. “And we wanted to sit right here during his act, if that’s okay. You know, make him sweat a little.”
I shrugged. “I’m good with that.” If my plan was to get back at him for how he treated my bestie’s sister, who was honestly one of the coolest chicks I knew, then I was all for it.
“So what makes you think Ace is an asshole?” Cruz questioned. “Pardon me: ‘notorious asshole.’”
I rolled my eyes before my gaze bounced to each one of theirs in rapid succession. “He met a friend of mine, got her number. Never called. Met her again, forgot meeting her the first time. Made out with her. Then still never called her.”
Fox’s lips parted in an O-shape while Cruz burst out laughing. “Sorry, it’s not funny, but—”
Ozzy started to defend him, “Well, Ace has been a little scatterbrained since he moved to Philly—”
“Nah, I think he’s just an asshole,” one of the guys chimed in—Dante maybe?
“Yep, that sounds like Ace,” Fox confirmed.
“See? I thought so.” I had to laugh. These guys were hilarious. I was guessing they went back a long way.
Three more sips of the margarita had me feeling extra bold. Not drunk, or even buzzed, mind you. But bold as fuck. “Hey, I have an idea.”
“Oh yeah?” All their heads tilted toward me.
“Yeah. How about if I hang out with Ace tonight…and then when he calls me…I’ll suddenly have a case of amnesia too? Serves him right after what he did to my friend!”
Ozzy chuckled, then covered it up with a cough when the emcee started to make his way to the stage and the lights dimmed. “Go for it! We’ll all play along.”
The other guys nodded their agreement, their chuckles dying down as the emcee’s voice boomed into the microphone with a brief bio on one Ace Bennett—my target for the evening.