Читать книгу: «One Night Standards»
One Night Standards
Cathy Yardley
To my husband, Joe, for giving me my son.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
1
IN THE CROWDED AIRPORT car-rental area, Sophie Jones did the only thing she could think of to get out of the jam she was in.
“I have to get to San Antonio!” she yelled.
“Miss, could you please get down from the counter?”
Sophie Jones ignored the car-rental clerk’s plea, holding up a sign that said SAN ANTONIO and shouting as best she could over the din of disgruntled passengers. “I know somebody out there is headed to San Antonio. I’ll pay for gas. I’ll pay the rental fee. But I have to get to San Antonio by tomorrow morning. Anyone? Anyone?”
“I can’t let you stand up here!” The clerk tugged at the hem of Sophie’s skirt.
Sophie scanned the crowd. They were split into two groups: those who had gotten keys to the last of the rental vehicles, and those who, like her, were stranded here in Oklahoma, thanks to the airplane radar error that had grounded all flights in the Southwest. She noticed other people starting to write their own signs, and yelling for their own rides.
The clerk gave a more insistent tug. “I’ll call security if I have to.”
Sophie sighed, clambering down from the counter. “You have to have rented a car to somebody going to San Antonio,” Sophie said, putting on a smile and trying to take the desperate tone out of her voice. “Couldn’t you just point out the person going there, so I can plead my case?”
The clerk, a harried-looking woman in her forties, frowned. “I’ve rented out more cars this afternoon than I have in two months,” she said. “You can’t expect me to remember something like that.”
But there was something in the woman’s voice, and her expression, that suggested that she did remember. Sophie felt a little surge of hope. “I’m in a terrible jam here, you have no idea. It would mean a lot to me,” Sophie wheedled, now increasing the desperation, hoping to play on the woman’s sense of decency. And it wasn’t as if she were lying. She had possibly the most important meeting of her career, maybe of her life, the next morning in San Antonio.
Beg, borrow or steal, she was getting a ride to San Antonio no matter what.
The woman’s eyes narrowed. Then she quickly looked over her shoulders. “It means a lot to you, huh?” Her voice was low, and Sophie had to strain to hear her. “How much is ‘a lot’?”
Sophie paused, taken aback. Then she reached into her purse, pulling out a fifty-dollar bill and putting it on the counter.
The woman quickly took the money, tucking it away in a pocket. “See that tall guy, standing in line to get his car?”
Sophie looked over at the chaotic group of people waiting for the few remaining rentals. “Which one?”
The woman smiled. “The gorgeous one. You can’t miss him.”
Sophie suddenly realized who the woman was talking about. Easily six foot two, with slightly wavy blond hair, he had the kind of masculine beauty that reminded her of Johnny Depp or Brad Pitt. “Holy cow,” Sophie whispered.
“He’s going to San Antonio,” the clerk said, with a little smile. “Him, I wouldn’t forget.”
“I can see why,” Sophie agreed. “Okay. Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” the clerk said, and Sophie knew it wasn’t a mere pleasantry—the woman didn’t want anyone to know she’d been bribed.
Sophie nodded, then took a deep breath. Gathering her luggage and presentation material, she awkwardly made her way to where the gorgeous guy was waiting patiently in line.
“I understand you’re going to San Antonio,” she said, without preamble. “I need to get there. I was hoping you’d be kind enough to let me share a ride with you.”
The man’s blue-gray eyes widened in surprise. “How did you know where I was going?” His voice had a Southern drawl, sweet and smooth, like aural caramel.
“Does it matter?” Sophie evaded. “That’s where you’re headed, right?”
He looked flustered. “Well, yes.”
“Then what difference does it make if you bring one more person with you?” Sophie asked reasonably, smiling with encouragement.
“Ordinarily, I’d love to help out,” he said. “But I’m getting crammed into a compact car as it is, and I’ve got a lot of luggage. And I’ll be honest with you. I’m coming off of a six-city sales trip, and I’m really in no mood for company.”
Sophie gritted her teeth. She’d been traveling a lot, too, trying to get her family’s fledgling company off the ground. It wasn’t as if she were looking for a new best friend. In fact, the last thing she wanted was to make small talk with a stranger while driving six to ten hours. She kept the pleasant smile fixed on her face.
“I can tell you’re a gentleman,” she countered, deciding to play on his Southern background. “You’d never leave a lady stranded.”
He sighed with irritation. “Like I said, ordinarily—”
“I promise, I won’t make a sound. You won’t even know I’m there,” she said, feeling a wave of despair that she fought to ignore. “It’s incredibly important to me.”
“I’m sure there are other people headed to San Antonio, who would love to help you out,” he said gently. “I’m truly sorry. Really.”
Sophie felt tears sting her eyes.
“Listen, can I tell you a story?” She dragged the luggage, keeping pace with him as the line inched forward. “A few years ago, my mother got fired from her job at a cosmetics company. It wasn’t personal, just business, they said. I was working at a big firm at the time, and I was sick of seeing things that were done in the name of big business. My mother and sister decided to start their own little cosmetics company, and I quit my job to join them. It’s been one of the most important decisions of my life.”
He smiled, the act making him look even more handsome, if possible. “That sounds nice,” he said. “Still, I don’t see…”
“There’s a trade show in San Antonio,” she said. “We’re showing there.”
“I’m sure missing one day won’t mean that much,” he said.
“You don’t understand,” she spat, frustrated. “I’ve got a huge meeting tomorrow morning. It could mean the difference between success and bankruptcy. I have to get to San Antonio.”
He stared at her, and she held the handle of her roller bag in a death grip. “Lots of people are stuck here,” he pointed out. “The radar blackout has been on the news. I’m sure whoever you’re meeting with will understand and reschedule.”
Sophie laughed. “Unfortunately, I get the feeling that this is my one and only chance. You don’t know the person I’m meeting with.”
He got up to the front of the line, and took his keys. “If they’re that unreasonable,” he said, jingling the keys, “maybe you shouldn’t be doing business with them at all.”
Sophie bit her lip. She’d thought the same thing, since the whole point in starting the company was to get away from that kind of corporate cutthroat attitude. Still, their little brand was floundering, and this would be a huge boost.
“They’re one of the biggest retailers in the country,” she said. “High end…I’m sure this doesn’t mean anything to you, but it’s an unbelievable opportunity. Mrs. Marion doesn’t wait for anybody. If I don’t get there, she’s going to think we’re not serious.” She put a hand on his sleeve. “I’ll pay for the rental. I’ll pay you for the ride. I’ll even do all the driving. But please, please…let me share your car.”
He studied her face for a long moment, and she held her breath.
“Shoot. I’m not made out of stone,” he drawled, and she felt relief flood through her system. Impulsively, she hugged him.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she breathed, dancing despite her exhaustion. “You are a saint. You’re an angel.”
“My mama would’ve kicked my butt if she found out I’d left a woman stuck somewhere, anyway,” he said, and Sophie laughed. “So, this Mrs. Marion is going to be impressed that you did whatever it took to make your meeting, huh? She sounds sort of…” He paused, as if searching for a word. “High maintenance,” he finished.
Sophie laughed again as they headed for the car. It was tiny, as he’d said. She felt bad for him, having to accordion his tall frame into the small automobile for the next six hours. “She’s that,” Sophie agreed. “But she knows that a deal with Marion & Co. is huge, and the fact that she’s considering us…I can’t even tell you how unbelievable the opportunity is. I really appreciate this.”
“You can put your stuff in the trunk,” he said. “I have to go get the rest of my bags and things.”
“Oh, wait,” she said, stopping him before he turned away. “What’s your name? I don’t even know who I should be thanking.”
“Mark,” he said, holding out a hand and smiling that mind-blowing smile. “Mark McMann.”
She smiled in return. His hand felt warm and firm, and for a second, she forgot all about the trip, and the meeting, and basked in the glow of his attention. “I’m Sophie,” she said. “Sophie Jones.”
He winked at her. “Be right back.”
Sophie quickly packed her luggage and materials into the small compartment, feeling a little guilty at how much room it took up. She’d make it up to Mark, she told herself. The guy was being so nice. Maybe she’d take him out to dinner, thank him properly.
Going out to dinner with a guy that good-looking would hardly be a hardship, she thought with a smile.
Mark returned after a few minutes. “I’ll try to wedge most of my stuff in the back,” he said, rolling a small dolly’s worth of boxes and luggage up to the car.
“Good grief,” Sophie said. No wonder he didn’t want company. They were going to be crammed like sardines in the tiny car. It was going to be an uncomfortable ride. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Again, I wouldn’t want to make a lady do my heavy lifting, either,” he said, with a quicksilver grin. “This’ll only take a minute.”
“I don’t mind…”
Sophie’s voice trailed off as she saw the logo on the boxes. It was distinctive, a set of three Ts in a swirling script.
Trimera. She’d know that logo anywhere.
He saw where she was looking, but didn’t say anything. He simply packed the rest of the boxes in the car.
He works for Trimera, she realized, the relief ebbing away slowly. Trimera, one of the biggest cosmetics companies in the business. The same company, in fact, that had fired her mother.
No wonder he’s going to San Antonio. He’s going to the same trade show. And he’s pretending not to realize we’re competitors!
“Okay, all set,” he said, in that same pleasant voice. “Shall we?”
She nodded, getting in the car.
And of course, he decided to give me a ride…after I told him about the Marion & Co. meeting.
He got in the driver’s seat, smiling at her. “Well, we might as well get to know each other. It’ll be a long trip.”
She nodded, smiling back at him even though the last thing she wanted to do was smile.
“Why don’t you tell me about this company of yours?” he asked, his voice elaborately casual. He didn’t even look at her when he asked, simply concentrated on the road as if his life depended on it. “It sounds great.”
Had she called him an angel? The guy was a devil—a handsome, smooth-talking, sneaky devil.
And for the next six hours, she was stuck with him.
THEY’D BEEN IN THE CAR for an hour, and the highway stretched out in the distance with very few cars besides their own. The sun was setting in a beautiful wash of salmon, rose and orange out on the horizon.
“That’s gorgeous,” Mark said, nodding at the sunset.
“Mmm.”
Mark bit back on a sigh of irritation. He hadn’t wanted to travel with anyone—it was bad enough that he had to drive, instead of catching a few hours of sleep on the plane—but he was being nice enough to offer the woman a ride to San Antonio. And now, since they’d gotten on the road, she’d barely spoken two words to him, and most of his questions had been answered with those one-syllable nonwords. She was so tense, he could practically feel it bouncing around in the interior of the ridiculously compact space they were sharing, threatening to explode. It was like traveling in a grenade.
“Warm enough?” he asked, pointing to the car’s climate control panel.
“Mmm,” she responded. “Thanks.”
He had to get her to open up. Otherwise…Well, not only would the trip be unpleasantly uncomfortable, but the whole point to them sharing a car would be ruined.
She said she had a meeting with Marion & Co. An important meeting.
He might not be credited with having a lot of business savvy by his colleagues, but he’d worked on the Marion & Co. account and knew them well. It was one of the biggest accounts Trimera had. If they were talking to other cosmetics companies, it would be worth a lot to know what they were talking about.
I find out what’s going on, and I might finally get that promotion.
Mark smiled to himself. He’d been working in sales at Trimera for the past five years, patiently biding his time, putting up with the snickers and snide comments about his past. He’d put in his time at night school, getting his MBA. Now, he was looking for his big break to make it up to the next level: director for a big account. He’d been angling for Marion & Co. for over a year. To have Sophie Jones and her information fall into his lap was an incredible stroke of luck.
He glanced over. Sophie’s toffee-colored curls danced around her shoulders, emphasizing the curve of her high cheekbones. Her green eyes scanned the scenery, fringed by long lashes. Her full lips pouted ever so slightly.
Having a woman like this fall into my lap would be incredible luck, no matter what the reason.
His body tightened in response. “Great sunset,” he croaked.
She glanced at him, her expression slightly amused. “You said that already.”
He frowned. “Oh. Right.”
He was attracted to her. That wasn’t all that odd, but the strength of his reaction was. He was used to dealing with women on a daily basis in his line of work—cosmetics execs were usually female. And before that, doing runway work, he’d been surrounded by beautiful women constantly. Comparatively speaking, Sophie wasn’t stunning, like the models and actresses he’d seen. But there was something about her, a spark or something, that he found absolutely irresistible.
“So, you work with your mother and your sister, you said?”
“Mmm.”
“That must be fun,” Mark continued relentlessly. “I couldn’t work with my sister. Or my brother, now that I think of it.” He laughed. “And I wouldn’t want to work with my mother. Too much pressure. If giving her my grades was hard enough, I can’t imagine what it’d be like to give her a sales performance report.”
He was gratified when she chuckled a little at that one. “Older or younger? Your brother and sister,” she asked.
It was an opening, so he took it. “My sister, Dana, is younger by three years. My brother Jeff is older by two.”
“You sound close,” she noted.
“Well, you must be close to your family, if you’re working with them,” he said. “How do you manage without going crazy?”
She smiled. “We do go crazy. Mom’s a bit of an absentminded professor,” she said, and her expression was soft, unguarded. “Lydia’s a creative type. She’s younger by only about ten months…a total ‘oops’ baby. She acts like she’s older, though.”
Mark nodded, encouraging. “And you’re not the creative type?”
“I’m the business type,” she said. “Numbers, strategy, you name it. That’s what I—” She stopped short, as if she realized that they were, indeed, having a conversation about her company. “I must be boring you, with all this talk,” she demurred.
He gritted his teeth. He’d need to try another tack.
She shifted in her seat to face him. “Listen, can I be blunt?”
“Please,” he replied easily, shifting gears. Whatever it took to keep her talking.
“I know who you work for. It’s right there on your product boxes.” She crossed her arms. “You’re my competition. You know that.”
Now he did sigh. He doubted she would have missed that, but he didn’t know that she’d put together that they were competitors. “Well, yeah. But that doesn’t mean we can’t, you know, talk.”
“Actually,” she pointed out, “it does. At least, it means I can’t talk to you, about business.”
“It’s not like we’re even in the same league,” he replied. “No offense intended.”
“None taken,” she said, her words edged in ice.
“I mean, Trimera is huge. Global. From the sounds of it, your company…What’s the name of it, anyway?”
“Diva Nation.”
Good name, he thought absently. “It’s a small start-up. You’re too small for us to be worried about.”
“Really?” she said sweetly. “And I suppose mentioning the Marion & Co. meeting did nothing to cause you concern.”
She had him there.
“You can’t honestly tell me that you’re asking about my company out of the kindness of your heart,” she added. “I mean, you seem nice enough, but you’ve been trying to pump me for information since you got on the road. Don’t kid a kidder. I used to work for a big company, too. Nothing’s too small to be a threat. You’re looking for an angle.” Her voice was bitter. “I remember what it’s like.”
He realized she was right—and her comment made him feel ever so slightly slimy. “It was just business,” he said, knowing it was a lame defense.
She shook her head, her curls twitching in response. “It always is,” she murmured.
“How old are you?” he asked.
She blinked in surprise. “Twenty-nine,” she responded. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“I just thought—you’re awfully young to be that jaded.”
She sighed. “You’re right. But I’ve had some bad experiences.”
“Why don’t you tell me about them?”
“What are you, a bartender?”
He chuckled. “You don’t have to tell me about your business now, if you think it’ll compromise you,” he said. “But you could tell me about your old job, right?”
Glancing over, he saw she was staring at him through narrowed eyes. “Are you trying to soften me up?”
“Yeah,” he admitted, and was rewarded when she laughed. “But I am interested.”
“Know thy enemy, huh?”
“We’ve got another five hours ahead of us, at least,” he said. “I don’t want to be stuck feeling like a spy or a criminal just because we happen to work in the same industry.” He winked at her. “Besides…I like you.”
That seemed to catch her by surprise. “Why?”
“You’ve got guts,” he said. “And lord, you’re persistent. I half thought you were going to hit me on the head and steal my car if I didn’t give in!”
“Why didn’t I think of that?” She laughed again, and slowly, he felt the tension in the car recede. “So, what do you want to know?”
He looked at her. “Why don’t you tell me about your old job,” he said, “and we’ll take it from there.”
Sophie revealed her past as an account executive at a cutthroat apparel company, talking about hellish bosses and asinine corporate policies that had finally caused her to quit. The stories, while crazy, were also funny, at least the way she told them. “So that’s why I decided to work for my family,” she said. “What about you? What caused you to work for cosmetics?”
“I used to be—don’t laugh,” he cautioned. “I was a male model.”
She didn’t laugh. “I can see that,” she said instead, and he could’ve sworn that there was a tone of admiration in her voice. Warmth expanded from the pit of his stomach in response, and he focused on her next question to distract himself. “But why cosmetics?”
“I ran into a lot of cosmetics people working,” he said. “They knew a lot of cosmetics sales reps, and I wound up interviewing with one of them when I decided to go into business. It was a friend of a friend. Besides, I understood how the products worked on the women I worked with,” he added. But that sounded defensive. “I figure, it’s been a good experience.”
“Huh. We’re a pair, aren’t we?” She leaned back, stretching, and he got a glimpse of her breasts pressing against the straining cloth of her blouse.
“How do you mean?”
“We’ve both got something to prove,” she said. “I’m trying to prove that you can make it in business without being heartless. You’re trying to prove that you’re more than just a pretty face.”
He stared at the road, momentarily stunned. She’d summed up his life in one sentence, and realized what people he’d been working with for years hadn’t seemed to grasp.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “That was blunt, again, wasn’t it?”
“No, it’s fine,” he said.
“I know you’re more than just your looks, though,” she added.
“Really?” He sneaked a quick look at her face. “How can you tell?”
“You heard me talk about my meeting, and you jumped on it,” she said. “You’ve been persuasive, without being a pest. And you listened to my old business stories and asked really good questions. You obviously know your stuff.”
He couldn’t help it. He grinned with pride. “Thanks.”
“You’re going to be a tough competitor to beat.”
He laughed. “Damn, I like you.”
She smiled in response. “I like you, too.”
“Let’s stop talking about business,” he said. “I want to know more about you. The real you.”
She laughed, a bit nervously. “What do you want to know?”
“Anything,” he said softly. “Everything.”
For a moment, it was as if they were frozen in time. Then she cleared her throat.
“I always wanted to live in Paris.”
He smiled. It might not help him get the promotion, but as he listened to her talk about her dreams and fears, he admitted that he felt better than he ever had, at any sales meeting or business function. And she was, technically, the enemy. After this car ride, they’d probably never see each other again, except the odd mention in a trade bulletin.
Too bad she’s a competitor, he thought, putting his ambition aside for a moment as he listened to her musical voice.
Because I sure would like to get closer to this woman.
“WE’RE FINALLY HERE,” Mark said, his voice sounding slightly disappointed.
Sophie could hardly believe it. It was eleven o’clock when they rolled into the Bedingfield Arms, and yet the hours had flown by. Considering they’d both avoided talking business, she was surprised at how much they did have to talk about. But he’d traveled around the world, to many of the same cities she’d loved. And they liked a lot of the same movies, the same books, the same music. And while she was exhausted, she was sorry that the trip had to end.
“Oh, man, I am dying for a hot shower and a big bed,” he said, in that mint-julep drawl of his.
She sighed. That sounded good. Sounded even better if she could share one or both with Mark, who was arguably one of the best-looking men she’d ever seen. And the past few hours had only made her bizarre crush stronger, because he was different. Good-looking guys with egos the size of a Cadillac, she wanted nothing to do with. But Mark was funny, and versatile, and smart. He knew how to listen, and he knew how to share…. He had some of the wildest stories she’d ever heard. She’d actually wiped tears away from the laughter several of his anecdotes had produced.
If only he could write a decent e-mail and knew how to return a phone call, she’d probably go to bed with him, she thought, then bit her own tongue as she started giggling.
“What? What’d I miss?”
“Nothing,” she said, rolling her own head back, trying to stretch the kinks out of her neck. “Just punchy.”
“You are the best, you know that?” he said as they parked the car. “Honestly. I haven’t had this much fun on a road trip since the Parker twins needed a ride to Georgia.”
“Well, I’d love to drink to the Parker twins, and you’ll have to tell me that story sometime,” she said, unfolding herself from the car with a groan. “But looks like our sojourn is over, pal.”
They collected the bags, and she felt a stab of regret. Now that they were at the hotel, he’d undoubtedly go up to his room, she to hers, and never the twain would meet, as it were.
Still, he was funny, he was nice, and she hadn’t spent this much time with a man after the sun had set since she’d started working at Diva Nation. She needed to get out more. She took a quick glance at his physique as he easily lifted the bulky luggage.
Getting out’s not the only thing I need.
She shook her head, clearing it of the thought. Getting any further involved with Mark would be trouble—no matter how much she liked him personally.
Man, it had been a long day, a long drive. A long night.
They checked in with the night clerk, and got their keys. As luck would have it, they had rooms right next to each other. They rode the elevator in companionable silence. Finally, they were each at their respective hotel-room doors.
“Well, I guess this is it.” She held out her hand. “Thank you. For the ride, for being a great conversationalist. For everything.”
His hand was warm and firm in hers. “I feel like we’ve been to war together.”
She laughed, then bit her lip. “Would a hug be totally inappropriate? Because I swear, after that car ride, I feel like I’m leaving my best friend here.”
He laughed, put down the laptops and his duffel bag, and held out his arms. Putting down her purse, she moved into his arms, hugging him tightly. He smelled good and felt like a billion dollars, giving the perfect hug…just enough arm, not too crushing, not at all reluctant.
She was really, really going to miss him. It was ridiculous, after only six hours, but she was going to miss him like crazy.
She was turning to tell him that, she would tell herself later. She wasn’t turning to do anything else when she was still in his arms. She just looked up into those sky-blue-gray eyes of his, smiling when he stroked the side of her face. Smiling back at him.
She was still smiling when he leaned down. The two of them were smiling when their lips met. And for a second, it was absolutely perfect—the end of a perfectly awful day with the most wonderful ending imaginable.
Then something changed. Oh, it was perfect—but there was nothing friendly about it.
She felt him crush the hair at the nape of her neck, very gently, with his broad hand, holding her more tightly to him as she let out a soft moan and pressed herself against him. She opened her mouth and felt his tongue brush against her lips, tickling hers. She tilted her head for better access, and sighed right into him. He felt sinfully delicious and tasted like heaven. She clutched at his shoulders, feeling him press her against the door. She didn’t care. She wanted as much of him as she could get.
She had no idea how long they stood like that out in the hallway, but it was probably far too long…and it wasn’t even long enough. But she heard one of the bags falling over and, startled, she pulled back.
“Wow,” Mark said, his breathing uneven. “Just…wow.” He stared at her. “You okay?”
She took a deep breath. “I think you shorted out my left temporal lobe.”
He laughed, stroking her arms. She took a step back, studying him.
“Do you have any idea how outrageously good you are at that?”
He grinned, tongue in cheek, and leaned against the door frame. “Good manners would say I should be modest right about now,” he said, then he grinned devilishly. “But hell, I’m too tired. Yeah, I knew.”
“Good grief. You should wear a warning label. Be registered as lethal in most states.”
He winked at her. “Just most states?”
“Well…I’m betting you’d probably be okay in Hawaii,” she said. “Thanks again.”
“You make me laugh,” he said, his smile causing her to feel warm all the way down to her toes. “I dig that.”
“Who says dig anymore? What are you, Austin Powers?” She had to escape. If she stayed out here…
“Why?” He winked. “Do I make you randy, baby?”
“You nutcase,” she replied. “I dig ya right back.”
He sighed. “It was the kissing thing, huh?”
She thought about it. “Actually, it was the car ride. I’ve never met anybody who could talk about as many non–work related things as you,” she said. “It takes a man of true distinction to find Andromeda, debate the finer points of A Face in the Crowd and sing all the words to ‘Dead Man’s Party’ in a decent voice.”
His eyes lit up, like a kid at Christmas, and his grin was so happy she wanted to drag him into her room and not let him go, possibly ever.
“You keep smiling like that, Tennessee, and I’m going to do things I regret. So let’s call it a night.” With that—and because she was an utter, stupid glutton for punishment—she gave him one last, quick kiss, then opened the door, dumped her stuff inside and shut the door behind her. Then, she kicked off her shoes and threw herself onto her bed. She heard him hauling his bags into his room next door, and closed her eyes.
Okay, you’re an idiot, she berated herself. Kissing that man was like juggling chain saws. Might seem like a cool idea in theory, but if you didn’t know what you were doing, you were bound to get hurt.
Still…he was pretty amazing. And of course, gorgeous. And really funny.
And damn, that man could kiss.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and she groaned. “Will this day never end?”
She peeked through the peephole…and saw a figure that still managed to look good despite the distortion of the fish-eye lens.
Don’t do it. You’re tired. You’re slap happy. You haven’t had sex in two years, she admonished herself. He works for the enemy. Do. Not. Open. That. Door.
She saw her hand grab the doorknob, twist it and swing the door open.
“Forget something?” she inquired.
His answering smile made her toes curl.
“You know,” he said, “sometimes, regret is healthy for you. Besides, it’s been a long time since I’ve done something somebody’s regretted.”
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