Curves Read online

  Curves

  By Tessa Vidal

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to anyone, any time, or any place is not intended and is merely coincidental. Cover models appear for illustration purposes only and have no relationship to any events in this story. Brief mentions of real persons, places, events, or products are used fictitiously and in accordance with fair use. All trademarks remain the properties of their owners. Some locations have been fictionalized for dramatic purposes.

  Text © 2019 Tessa Vidal & Lovebird Press

  Cover Design © 2019 Lovebird Press

  Please respect the hard work of the author, and don’t post this book to free, sharing, or pirate sites.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Sara

  “I can see your underwear.”

  It’s not something most women want to hear, but I had to tell Jennifer the truth. That’s what best friends do.

  She didn’t even attempt to pull her skirt down. Instead, she shrugged, her gorgeous red hair cascading over her shoulders. “We’re going to a lesbian club. The whole idea is to score, Sara. You need it more than anyone, you know.”

  Our car pulled up and the valet opened the door. I wanted to ogle the woman, because she was in a suit — my personal fetish. I had a thing for women in what was considered menswear. But the valet only had eyes for Jennifer, who winked as she turned and tipped her. That was the way things always were when the two of us went out together.

  Everyone checked out Jennifer with her sleek, shiny hair and long, slender limbs. No one bothered with me, the girl with the blonde curls and full bust, hips, and thighs. In my industry, we called women like me “plus-sized.” In the dating world, I was just fat.

  Even the people I worked with despaired whenever I walked into the fashion closet in hopes of finding something to wear. “Sorry, but we don’t have anything that fits you this week, honey,” they’d say, while the rest of my co-workers enjoyed the privilege of strutting around in designer loaner pieces. I’d wanted to be a beauty editor since junior high, but my visions of all the perks of working at one of the top magazines in the industry were dashed, all because of my size.

  “Come on, birthday girl,” Jennifer said, linking her arm with mine and tugging me toward the club. “Leave that sourpuss of yours in the car. It’s time to party.”

  Right, that. Even with the lack of romantic attention, going out with Jennifer was usually fun. She had her mother’s good looks and influence, and her daddy’s money, which meant all of Manhattan was her playground. My birthday, though, wasn’t exactly something I was keen to celebrate.

  So many people loved to say age was just a number, but I couldn’t help but think it was both amazing and terrifying the difference a few years could make. As soon as we walked into the club, the first thing that caught my eye were all the newly-minted twenty-one-year-olds, skinny and dancing while holding full cups that sloshed with alcohol.

  I winced, memories of being in their shoes washing over me. Maybe turning thirty wasn’t some magical transition I should take all that seriously, but I couldn’t help but contemplate the mistakes I’d made in my twenties. Finding myself, losing myself... because of a woman. Finding myself again when that woman broke my heart.

  Jennifer gave me an extra forceful pull as we followed the hostess, another twenty-something who was all long, slender limbs. “You’re getting mopey again. Stop it. Your mourning period is o-v-e-r, Sara.” She’d had the forethought to reserve a table since she’d chosen the most happening sapphic hotspot in all of New York. The hostess whispered something in Jennifer’s ear before slipping away and disappearing into the crowd.

  “Do you know her?” I slid into the booth and wedged myself toward the corner. Maybe Jennifer wanted to make a spectacle of herself, but I was perfectly content to make this cozy little nook my home for the night.

  “Oh, sweetie, I know her. Blair’s the one who hooked us up with the best booth in the club.” Jennifer tossed her hair and propped her hand on her hip. The itty-bitty skirt she wore seemed to have found its place on her thighs and I fanned myself. She’d get the attention she wanted and then some.

  In a way, that made me more comfortable. All the focus would be on her, not me, and I could sit back and watch.

  “Don’t go anywhere,” she told me. “I’m going to score us some drinks and Paige will be here any minute.” Before I could protest, Jennifer had already disappeared into the crowd of swaying bodies and flashing lights.

  I glanced at my cell phone and nibbled my lower lip. A little after ten, which meant the drunkenness in this place has already peaked. I blew out a sigh and that was when I saw my other anchor, the friend who’d seen me through thick and thin.

  Paige Stone strutted through the club like she owned the place, and the tipsy girls cleared the way for her. Good thing, too. I’d seen the leggy brunette at her worst, something I hoped never to be on the receiving end of.

  The best thing about being Paige’s friend was seeing how she charmed people with her southern drawl and debutante ways, only to serve up a side of fierceness with her incurable drive to succeed. Dangerous was the word that came to mind when Paige honed in on something she wanted. That was probably why she’d become a lawyer, because it was a job that involved winners and losers. Paige knew exactly which one she wanted to be in the grand scheme of things.

  “Happy Birthday. Are you ready to clear the cobwebs out of your lady basement?” Paige slid into the booth next to me and planted a firm kiss on my cheek. “Aren’t you glad you aren’t one of them anymore, bless their little hearts,” she said, gesturing at the sea of nubile bodies in motion.

  “I never want to be one of them, again,” I muttered. So open, so vulnerable, so ready for heartbreak. The very thought of it made me shiver.

  “Is that so?” Paige raised her eyebrow and lowered her gaze. “But that dress says you want to be something to someone tonight.”

  I tugged self-consciously at the body-hugging white fabric, while Paige’s red lips twitched in a mischievous smile. What I wanted was to feel like I was something special, but I wasn’t looking to get laid. “Jennifer is getting drinks,” I said in an attempt to redirect the conversation.

  “That’s nice. I’m going to fix you up with someone.” The way Paige said it, I knew it wasn’t an offer, but a command.

  Not that I could blame her. I’d given enough of my time and energy to... No, just thinking of her name was enough to make a lump form in my throat and I turned away, blinking into the brilliant, flashing lights. “I’m good.”

  “Look, I’m not saying you have to replace Sasha with the chick I have in mind,” Paige said, her tone softening. I hoped she could tell by my stiff posture and averted face that this wasn’t something I wanted to discuss. “I’m just thinking of someone I know who’s, well, more your type. She won’t treat you like crap, but she’d be cool with keeping it casual until you’re ready for... whatever.”

  I knew my friends thought it was hilarious that I was such a romantic, that I wanted love to happen organically. But any woman in my life was going to have
to accept me, flaws and all. It seemed all my flaws started with the letter C — curves, carb-lover, crappy judgment when it came to girlfriends...

  “Where’s Eve?” I hated bringing her up, but she was the one person who could redirect the conversation away from me. When I turned back to Paige, she was fluffing her long, dark hair.

  “She’s out with the rest of her little model brigade. They’ll probably show up later, if they aren’t already here. The one I want to set you up with is with her, too.”

  I shook my head. There was no way I wanted Paige to set me up with one of the models. Despite being a lawyer, Paige somehow managed to establish a reputation for being a serial modelizer, dating only the most beautiful women in New York City.

  Even though I didn’t really deal with models myself, I’d seen enough to want to steer clear. My job as a beauty editor was to manage every aspect of beauty content for the magazine. It was fun to work with my team exploring the latest and greatest products, testing them, and writing about them. While networking with models was a part of my job, I didn’t actually work on or with them. In fact, much to my chagrin, it was my own face that appeared my column and was used as a canvas for the testing.

  “You have a beautiful face,” our makeup artist told me time and again. “It’s just these curves, honey, that keep the rest of you out of the picture.”

  Honey. I was sick of being called that word, a word reserved for overweight women with pretty faces.

  “Stop. You look like you’re smelling something rancid.” Paige gripped my wrist, as if that would somehow keep me from rejecting her ludicrous idea.

  “I love you, but you know a model wouldn’t go for this.” I waved my hand down along my body and shrugged. “I’d break her in half the moment we tried to have sex.” There was that, and the fact that when I met the right person, I wanted there to be fireworks, slow clapping, and heart palpitations. The works.

  “Are you kidding? Plenty of models love fluffy women,” Paige told me and I flinched. Another word I hated. Why sugarcoat the truth about my body?

  Since I couldn’t seem to dissuade Paige from her odd mission to get me some action, I scooted out through the other side of the booth. “Why don’t I see what’s taking Jennifer so long?” I suggested, before making my escape. “Just warn me before your little model posse gets here, so I can hide.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me and rubbed the back of her hand beneath her chin, red nails catching the light. Clearly, Paige was conspiring and there was nothing I could do to stop her.

  It hardly mattered, anyway. I heard them before I saw them. High-pitched laughter and someone squawking about her latest photo shoot for the Parisian version of another magazine. One of the women dancing on the outskirts turned to look at the commotion just as I walked by, and splashed half her cup onto the top of my foot.

  I groaned and kicked my soaking foot, even though I knew it wouldn’t change a damn thing. A wet high heel. That was the perfect way for me to really start this night. I didn’t even bother looking at the models. Instead, I sucked in a breath and glared at Paige.

  She laughed, but then her gaze locked on something else and her expression softened. That meant Eve was there. I didn’t mind Eve so much, but I knew what her life was like and I didn’t want any part of it.

  Continuing on my mission to find Jennifer seemed like the safest thing to do, so I walked to the bar, with my heel slipping out of my shoe all the way. I grabbed a few cocktail napkins out of a stack, slipped my foot out of my shoe, and started drying it. The idea of sneaking out and catching a tax seemed like the best way to handle the rest of the night. I could simply disappear, as if I’d never been there, go home, and curl up on the couch with some birthday chocolate.

  But when I looked up, she was there, standing between me and the booth where Paige still waited. The kind of woman whose very existence taunted me. She was as tall and slender as a model, with burnished brown hair that barely touched her shoulders. And she certainly wore expensive clothing, a pair of tailored black slacks and a white silk blouse. It was the upper half that drew my attention, because the blouse was only buttoned up to her breasts. There, it gaped open in a chic way, revealing a white camisole that didn’t cover much more skin, and a long silver necklace that emphasized her “I could be naked for the right woman” look.

  Crap. I was a goner. I knew I was staring at her like a deer in headlights.

  I also knew she hadn’t noticed me. Her hands were propped on her narrow waist and my gaze strayed there. Normally, I didn’t focus on physical attraction, but all I could think about was sex. Her. Taut body. On top of me.

  Heat washed over me and I couldn’t breathe. Fanning myself wasn’t an option. It would look ridiculous. Fortunately, she saved me from making the gesture when she threw her head back and laughed at something one of the models said. Her eyes crinkled when she laughed and I knew it was a lost cause.

  She was the kind of woman who knew how perfect she was, the one thing I didn’t want or need in my life. That kind of mentality was what kept me from dating models or, honestly, anyone in my industry.

  Eve curled her hand over the woman’s shoulder, said something in her ear, and gestured at Paige. It made sense that this perfect creature was hanging out with Paige’s latest model conquest. It also made her even more off-limits, as far as I was concerned. Unfortunately, my body had other ideas.

  Despite my silent longing to turn completely invisible, the gorgeous woman turned my way. I sucked in a sharp breath when she raked her gaze over my body once and then a second time. Her assessment lacked the judgmental smirk most models gave me at a glance. No, she’d actually taken a second look and now she seemed to be going back for more.

  A smile lit up her face and two dimples appeared. On any woman, like one who carried my kind of weight, they would just make her cuter. This woman, however, was hot, the dimples completely out of place on an otherwise sexy face and figure.

  Even though I didn’t want her to notice me, I couldn’t look away no matter how hard I tried. Despite the clamor of the models and the rest of the crowd, her gaze didn’t stray from mine.

  Someone jerked on my arm. “Put your shoe on, Sara,” Jennifer urged me. “That woman is gorgeous and from the way she’s looking at you, I think she might want to eat you for dinner.”

  That one crude sentence put me back on my guard and I did my best to ignore my fluttering heart. Jennifer knew this was the kind of woman who pushed all my buttons, so I forced bravado into my voice as I shot back, “Good thing I don’t want to be someone’s dinner.” I fixed the sexy woman with an icy stare, a reminder to myself that I couldn’t let her through my wall, and turned back to the bar. After a few dabs of the napkin, I slid my shoe back onto my foot.

  Awareness of everything on and inside my body hit me, and my fingers lingered on the heel, my leg still bent behind me. I didn’t even need to turn around to know she was there. Every hair on the back of my neck rose as I inhaled the classic scent of Chanel No. 5.

  “Are you sure?” The low, husky voice licked each syllable, sending fresh shockwaves through my entire body. I stared at Jennifer, but she’d gone wide-eyed, transfixed by the woman’s presence. To my horror, her face broke into a huge grin.

  “Damn. I think I better give you two some time alone,” Jennifer said. “If you’ll just excuse me.” And without another word, she slipped away, leaving me trapped between the bar and the woman of my nightmarish dreams.

  Chapter Two

  Dylan

  I couldn’t take my eyes off the beautiful woman in front of me. Her pose was almost indecent, the way she stood leaning slightly forward against the bar, one hand wrapped around her foot, clinging to it like a lifeline. Thanks to the leg hiked behind her, I could see every inch of creamy skin from her foot to her thighs. Soft, inviting thighs I wanted to get my face between for a nice, long night of exploration.

  The best part was that she looked completely mortified by my presence. I hadn’
t done a thing to her, yet her huge blue eyes flashed with either fear or anger. Either way, it was hot. Most women looked at me with desire. This chick looked like she was at war with herself. I had to know which side would win.

  I didn’t stop smiling while I watched her study my face. Everything about her narrowing eyes and the hunch of her shoulders showed she was guarded. A challenge, then, instead of the usual easy lay. No matter what that short white dress might have invited others to think, this wasn’t the kind of woman who wanted to fall into bed with just anyone.

  The girl who’d walked away — her friend, no doubt — was more along the lines of what I usually wanted. That one looked easy, like she would be down for a night of no strings attached. She’d moan for me, beg for more, and then brag to her friends that she could be the woman who changed my ways. But no woman could change me, no matter how hard they’d tried for the past twenty years.

  I tore my eyes from her friend, drawn back to the doe-eyed one, the one clinging to her foot in an awkward position. I decided those curves of hers were what captured my attention in the sea of mundane, skinny girls who were already drunk off their asses. This one looked like a woman and the softness of her body paired with her hesitance was refreshing. I could turn around, wave my hand at the dance floor, and every woman on it would throw herself at me, thinking they had a chance. Not this one, though. She wanted me... but not that much.

  Heat permeated my body and the frantic pace of my heart left me dizzy as I turned around and faced her.

  Since I didn’t want to lose her before I had a chance to feel her out, I asked, “Is your shoe broken? I can try to fix it.” There were ways to woo even the skittish ones. Being helpful, even for a moment, usually worked.

  Her shoulders relaxed and she finally let go of her foot. As much as I wanted to keep staring at her leg, I looked her in the eye. This was new territory for me and I had to take things a little slower.