Curves in the City, page 1
part #1 of Curves in the City Series
Curves in the City
Flora Madison
Copyright © 2019 by Flora Madison
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Author’s Note
1. Tori
2. Zaid
3. Tori
4. Zaid
5. Tori
6. Zaid
7. Tori
8. Zaid
9. Tori
Eight Years Later
More Curves in the City
Also by Flora Madison
Thanks for Reading!
Author’s Note
Hey there, friends!
I’ve lived in NYC (Manhattan, Brooklyn, and Queens) for the last nineteen years. I moved here right after 9/11 and have had every odd job under the sun in between my various acting/performing gigs. It’s a beautiful, exhausting, and ridiculously expensive place where dreams thrive. The city is as much a character in my new Curves and the City series as my heros and heroines are. My hope is that you’re able to sit back, escape and enjoy the best parts of New York City without having to leave the comfort of your own pajamas! So, grab your favorite snack or beverage, and get to know the town.
As always, thanks for reading.
Without your eyes I’m nothing!
XoXo,
Flora Madison
floramadisonromance@gmail.com
1
Tori
When people say the streets of New York City are mean, they’re not kidding. Granted, it’s not the crime-riddled, peepshow playground of yesteryear. But it’s no cakewalk, either. I didn’t expect it to be. What I did expect was to have a job by now. Today marks day thirteen of the job hunt, my finances are dwindling, and my self-esteem’s seen brighter, sunnier days. But NYC is the city of dreams, or so they say. So why is it starting to feel like my worst freaking nightmare?
“You’re being dramatic, Tori.” My best friend, Viv’s voice pings in my ear as I navigate the twisting streets of the West Village. “You’ll find a job soon. You’re like the smartest person I know.”
I let out a sigh. “I don’t want to wait tables, Viv. I need to find a job in social media marketing.” Wetness beads on my upper lip due to the Manhattan summer’s sweltering humidity. Seriously, it feels like I’m walking through a sauna.
“Or what? You’ll come back home? That’s even crazier than having to wait a few tables to get by.”
“I’m not coming back home.” Relief washes over me as I eye the green sign ahead. Jane Street, finally. “Ever.” The silence on Viv’s end causes my addendum, “no offense.”
“None taken. I’m not a big city girl.”
“In this heat, neither am I.”
“Take a breath, babe. You will be just fine. What time are you meeting my brother?” A zing wiggles in my guts. I should’ve declined the offer to go out to dinner with him, but I could use a free meal. Something that isn’t ninety-nine cent pizza, or a frozen burrito. “Five minutes ago,” I say. “And I can’t remember the exact address of the place, so I have to let you go.”
“Okay, just… call me when you’re done.”
The screen slides against my damp cheek as I narrow my eyes, searching across Eighth Avenue for a restaurant called Anfora. “Seriously? We just talked for an hour.”
“Well, it’s just that…” Viv sighs and her breath rustles against my earpiece. “I want to know how it goes with Zaid.”
I catch the light and hustle across the street. “Viv, you’re being weird. Why?”
“He’s not like you remember him.” An image of a college-aged Zaid pops into my head: dark hair, ruddy complexion, thick glasses, and zero sense of style. He’s always reminded me of a nerdier Harry Potter. “He’s… different.”
“Cut the cryptic crap, Viv. Why are you telling me this?”
“Remember my college roommate, Alicia?”
“Big mouth, small butt?”
“Yeah. She and Zaid dated last year.”
My feet slow as I reach the curb. “Your bestie from college dated your brother?” My mouth twists thinking of the two of them together, both tall and lanky like a walking number eleven. “That’s weird.”
“You’re telling me. When he broke up with her, she stopped talking to me.”
“Wait, you were inseparable for like two years.” A pang of jealousy snarls my lips, eyes rolling into the back of my head.
“And now she’s nothing but a distant memory.” Outside of Anfora, the sidewalk’s littered with a half-dozen people. I crane my neck to see if Zaid’s out here, but no dice.
“So, what are you saying?” I face away from the restaurant’s entrance and cup my hand over the mouthpiece. “You’re nervous about me being around Zaid?” I can’t help but laugh. “That’s bonkers.” Viv doesn’t laugh along with me. “It’s bonkers, Viv!” I repeat.
“Okay,” she says. “I just had to put it out there.”
I’m not being rude here, but her brother is the last person I’d ever date. Viv and I hung out at her house in high school, and Zaid was always home. I swear the guy didn’t have much of a social life. College weekends should be filled with parties and promiscuity—maybe I’m projecting?—Not with books and practice exams. I kind of felt sorry for him. Seemed the type to never get laid.
Heck, he may even still be a—
“Just text me after, okay?” Viv interrupts my thoughts.
“Will do, boss.”
“Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
“And Tori? You’ll find a job soon.” The warmth in my best friend’s voice sends a wave of longing through me. I haven’t been here long enough to make any friends. I don’t count my four roommates I barely see, passing in the night like candy on a conveyor belt.
“Thanks,” I say, and hang up. After a deep breath, and a quick bat at the hair stuck to my face, I turn to face the door. Considering I’m nearly ten minutes late, I should probably high tail it inside, but something’s pulling at me—a gaze, coming from my right side.
My eyes strain sideways, chin following in a series of jagged movements. While meant to be inconspicuous, I come off as though my neck is mechanical. The thought’s interrupted by the lightest green eyes I’ve ever seen in my entire life. My heart catches in my throat as my vision takes the rest of him in.
His white button-down shirt, popped open enough to show off his massive chest, highlights his summer tan. His tapered waist accentuates his broad shoulders. He wears his hair, black as onyx, longer on top and shaved short on the sides. Standing with his hands in his pockets, he reminds me of a movie star, casual and cool, like every day is a photo opp.
He can’t be looking at me? I’m sweating like a pig on a spit.
My eyes widen as he takes a step in my direction. On instinct, I look away. My feet shuffle in the door's direction, but halt when I hear my name.
“Tori.” The low, husky voice is familiar yet foreign. The warm pressure of a hand on my wrist flicks my head in its direction. The gorgeous man smiles at me, and my head nearly rolls off of my body.
“Zaid?” My voice, a weak whisper. Unless this is a real-life case of Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Zaid Zarin grew up to be one smoking hot man. A man I’ve promised my best friend on earth that I will not fall for.
God help me.
2
Zaid
Tori hasn’t changed a bit, other than she’s even more beautiful than I remember. The wind’s knocked from my lungs as she turns to face me, bee-stung lips painted red and slightly parted. Even the way she says my name drives me wild. Not much has changed. I’ve always wanted Tori Stephenson and seeing her here like this? I want her now even more than I did back then.
“It’s great to see you,” I say and lean in for a hug. She presses her soft body up against mine, slightly sticky with sweat. I drink in her smell, clean with a hint of musk. It’s the same perfume she’s worn since I’ve known her and it still drives me insane. “You look great.”
“You too,” she says. Her breath tickles my neck. When she pulls away, her amber eyes are wide, the same color as the gentle splash of freckles across the bridge of her upturned nose. “In fact, I didn’t even recognize you.”
“Thanks?” I say, squinting one eye.
“That’s not what I meant.” The back of her hand presses against her forehead. “You just look so…” Her eyes dance up and down my body. “Different.”
“I feel like that’s another way of saying you didn’t recognize me.”
“I guess you’re right.” Tori clears her throat. “What I meant to say was that you look amazing, Zaid.”
I can’t help but smile. She’s not the first person gob smacked by my New York City transformation. Hours at the gym, a healthy lifestyle, and the CEO’s income to support such habits have turned me into a new man—on the outside, at least. “Let’s go inside.”
I place my hand on the small of Tori’s back and lead her into the restaurant. The low hum of happy hour surrounds us. Dark and cozy, the air conditioner provides a welcome relief from the city’s summer hell. Once we’re inside, Tori tosses her shiny, copper hair over her shoulder. Her showstopper black dress and high heels make her appear like she’s been in the city for years, not days.
A woman greets us and shows us to our seat, a little leather banquette with a low table amidst the heart of the crowd. I extend my arm and Tori sits, crossing one smooth leg. The limited space causes us to sit close enough to touch. Did my subconscious pick this spot on purpose? Tori sits up straight, leaning forward just enough to show a hint of her gorgeous cleavage. As fast as I can, I avert my eyes and grab the skinny menu instead.
Tori follows suit, teeth gnashing into her bottom lip. “It’s small plates,” I say, reading her mind. “Which means we have to order a bunch of them.” Her sultry smile lights up the room, and I wonder what it would feel like to press my own lips against them. How sweet her mouth must taste, like strawberries and cream.
“Good. I won’t lie. I’m starving.”
“And I’m paying. So please, eat until you can’t take another bite.”
“No, Zaid. We’ll split it.”
My hand drops to her knee. Her eyes dart to mine. Electric currents ignite against my palm. I lean in closer so she can hear every word. Her soft hair brushes against my face. “Don’t be stubborn, Tori. Let me treat you. A ‘welcome to the city’ dinner.” Tori nods in agreement.
We make small talk until our drinks arrive, a Prosecco for her and a Perfect Manhattan straight up for me. How’s life? Where are you living? Do you like New York? Etc.
Normally I’m not into small talk, but I could listen to Tori all night. Hell she could even read me the drink menu and I’d be enthralled taking in the soft beauty of her round face, a unique angel in a sea of trend-sporting clones. The first two rounds go down smooth, and the conversation flows a little easier. Loose lips.
“What do you do, Zaid?” She squints her eyes in mock interest, putting on her best Barbara Walters hat.
“I own an advertising company.”
She nearly spits out her drink. “Own? As in your the boss, applesauce?”
“Yes, I am.”
“That’s freaking amazing!” Her hand rests on my bicep. I flex it in response. “So you’re like… doing okay?” Her head weaves in a figure-eight.
“You mean am I doing okay emotionally? Physically? Financially?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah.”
“Wow! Good for you, Zaid.” Her fingers move to my shoulder, she gives me a friendly shake. “All that studying paid off!”
“Studying?”
“Yeah, you were like a recluse in college. I swear you never left the house.” The bubbles have exaggerated her movements, making her more animated, her cheeks flushed. I know I’m supposed to nod in agreement, but I’m frozen. How do you tell the woman you’ve been in love with for years that the reason you stayed home in college was because you knew she was at your house? That you’d rather stay in your room and study hoping to catch a glimpse of her every time you took a snack break? The answer: you don’t.
I finally nod at her statement. “I suppose it did.”
“And here I am shit out of luck, no job, four stupid roommates—”
“You don’t have a job?”
She lifts her glass to her lips and shakes her head. “Why do you think I’m dressed like this? I’ve been pounding the pavement all day going to interviews.”
“Anything arise?” I twist in my seat, thinking of the swelling erection in my pants that’s been nagging at me the entire time we’ve been sitting here. Hopefully, she hasn’t noticed.
Tori finishes her drink and sets it down on the table. “Unfortunately, no. Zip. Zilch. Zero.” She presses her finger against her thumb, lifts it to her eye, and peers through the space. “And honestly, Zaid.” God I love when she says my name. “I’m glad you’re picking up the tab, big spender. I’m about cashed out and I still need to make…” Tori hiccups mid-sentence. “Rent this month.”
Her red lacquered fingertips fly to her mouth, suppressing an embarrassed giggle. I can’t let my Tori worry about money, especially when I have so much of it. But I know this woman, and she’s not the kind of person who would accept a blatant handout.
“I’ll do you one better.” I say, thinking none of it through. “I’ll offer you a job at my office until you find something more permanent.” Her eyes widen, puffy lips parting into a perfect o-shape. I can imagine what they’d feel like wrapped around my —
“Are you serious?”
“Our receptionist quit last month. We’ve been using a temp, but I could use you instead.”
“Oh Zaid, I don’t know.” A look of worry crosses her face, and I’d die to know what’s preventing her from jumping at this opportunity.
“Just try it out. Give it one week, and you can come and go for interviews.” I nudge her shoulder so I can bring myself in contact with her again. Tori takes a deep breath and I leave my shoulder pressed against hers. The curve of her neck begs for a nibble.
After a long silence, she turns to me. Her face, close enough to lean into. I could end it all right here, kissing her long and hard.
But what if she still sees me as her best friend’s geeky older brother?
“Thank you,” she says. “I’ll take you up on your offer.” She holds out her hand, and the minute I slip mine into hers, fully engulfing it, I stiffen in my pants again. “But you’re still paying for dinner.”
A hearty laugh escapes my mouth. “In that case, I think we should order more food.” Tori’s eyes light up, and that megawatt smile knocks me off my feet.
I hold up my hand, and the waitress saunters over. Having the woman of my dreams work for me five days a week, while I try to control myself from throwing her up against the boardroom table and having my naughty little way with her is a dangerous situation. But I can’t take it back now.
I hope I know what I’m getting myself into.
3
Tori
It’s hard to hide the horror on my face as I enter Zaid’s posh office in the Meatpacking district. The commute from Queens sucks major balls, rush hour zombies packed wall-to-wall drinking coffee and pretending they’re not in a living hell. I thought arriving would give me a little relief, but I’m worse than before. My wet palms press against my black skirt, a hair away from being too tight. My silky, emerald blouse brings out the undertones in my golden eyes. My high heels feel like a modern day corset, but I look the part: receptionist at a New York City advertising firm.
Or so I thought.
Everyone else is wearing jeans and sneakers. I’m dressed like I work behind the hotel concierge desk, not in a creative office with wide open cubicles. A dude with thick hair and even thicker glasses zooms by me on a scooter. I step backward out of his path and run smack dab into something. More like, someone.
Zaid steadies me, my ankles teetering on my three-inch heels. The minute his skin brushes mine, tingles erupt everywhere. My center ignites and wetness drenches my panties. How can such a simple, innocent gesture send me into a desire overload? My brain’s a Rolodex of all the naughty ways Zaid can scratch this increasing itch I have for him.
“I must be in the danger zone,” I say, its double meaning not lost on me.
“Not to be too much of a stickler,” he says in that impossibly deep, gravelly voice of his. “But you are standing in the scooter path.”
“Huh?” I say, and Zaid points down. He’s right, I’m standing on what appears to be, a fake roadway spliced through the middle of the carpet.
“I’ll keep an eye on that.” Again, I tug at my skirt. Zaid’s eyes go straight to my hips. I ignore the heat flushing in my cheeks. I was never skinny in high school, but I wasn’t this big. Not that it matters. When I sent Viv a text last night, I told her she had nothing to worry about. But that was a blatant lie. Just being around Zaid sends my body into fuck-me mode.
The whole commute home, my brain swam with images of Zaid, hot, naked and ready for me. I had to lock my door and relieve my ache, running my fingers into my panties. I stroked myself in gentle circles, imagining it was Zaid’s hot, hungry mouth. Thirty-seconds later, I came harder than I have in a long time. So much so I had to change my sheets.
