For 100 Days (100 1)

I step past him and stalk through the restaurant, telling Tasha I’ll call her later and ignoring Kimmie’s slack-jawed stare from across the room as I go.

~ ~ ~

I’m nearly to the subway station when the reality of what I’ve just done finally sinks in.

Fuck. I have no job.

Worse than that, I’ve torched the bridge at Vendange beyond repair. Not that I’d ever want to go back now—not if it means working for that imperious asshole, Joel. For what certainly isn’t the first time, I reflect on how fortunate I am to have Claire Prentice’s house-sitting money to cushion my fall. I’ve managed to save most of it, minus the back rent I paid my former landlord. Still, my remaining thirty-five-hundred will only take me so far.

This is the first time I’ve been unemployed since I was legally old enough to work, and some of my bravado falters as I hoof my way up Madison Avenue in my work heels with no place really to go.

“Shit, shit, shit.” I slow at a corner for a traffic light, thankful that I’m in New York, where a woman muttering expletives to herself in the midst of a pedestrian crowd doesn’t draw as much as a wink of attention.

Have I lost my freaking mind? I think maybe I have, because as terrifying as my not-so-distant future is, right now, I also feel a conflicting yet undeniable sense of liberation.

I’m unshackled, but I’m also well aware that it’s only a temporary freedom.

Throwing away my job and paycheck is one thing. There is a harsher reality awaiting me just a few short months from now. When Claire returns from Japan, I’ll not only be jobless, but homeless too.

And then there’s Nick.

I meant it when I told Tasha I’m afraid of how much I like him. Each time we’re together, I feel myself falling deeper under his spell, against my better judgment. Against all of my self-imposed rules about not letting anyone get too close to me.

Yet, in spite of all that, as I step away from the curb with the rest of the crowd to cross the street, it’s his face I want to see the most. It’s his voice I need to hear.

I retrieve my phone from my purse and bring up our text conversation—the one I’ve revisited more times than I care to count. Nick’s number is just a finger-tap away. When we parted last night, I told him I wouldn’t be able to see him for a couple of days because of work. He hadn’t seemed pleased about that, but he’d allowed that he also had business that needed to be attended.

While I don’t want to bother him if he’s working, right now, there’s a part of me that simply needs to feel connected to something solid and real. As hard as it is for me to admit it—even to myself—Nick is becoming the steadiest, most secure harbor I know.

Before I can lose my nerve, I tap his number and send the call.

He answers before the first ring has died out. “Avery.”

“Hi.”

“This is an unexpected pleasure.” His voice curls around me, warm and dark and velvet-soft. I hear him quietly dismiss someone in the background, his tone all business. That terse edge is gone when he comes back to me a moment later. “How are you today, beautiful?”

I smile, savoring his tender endearment. “I’m fine. Still thinking about yesterday. And last night.”

He makes a low sound in the back of his thr

oat, something sensual that makes my insides melt a little. “I’ve been thinking about nothing else but you all morning. More specifically, I’ve been thinking about how gorgeous you were, riding me in the back of my limo, and about all the ways I want to make you come again.”

Oh, God. Since I can hardly manage to walk a straight line when he’s saying such delicious things to me, I ease out of the flow of foot traffic and take up a position near a men’s clothing store.

“Nick, I’m sorry to call you at work.”

“Don’t be.” He hesitates. “Is that traffic noise? Avery, where the hell are you?”

I glance up at the sign on the corner. “I’m on Madison, at the corner of Forty-sixth.” I inhale, then push my breath out on a sigh. “I quit my job today.”

Nick is quiet for a short moment, steady as always in his calm. “You sound rattled. Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I think so. I guess . . . I guess I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Don’t go anywhere,” he orders me. “I’ll be there in less than ten minutes.”

“Nick, that’s really not necess—”