by Noelle Adams
“Yes.”
“Me too.”
He smiles, and it literally takes my breath away. For a moment I can’t even breathe. He says, “I knew we had something in common.”
My cheeks are flushed, and my heart is racing, and I’m way, way too attracted to this man. Things like this never happen to me. Even with Matt six years ago, the attraction came slowly over the course of a few hours. I never get blown away by a man like I am right now.
I don’t like it. It makes me nervous. I look down at my phone and pretend to read a text message.
“I’ll take that as a sign that you’re tired of talking to me,” he says, a smile in his voice.
My eyes flew up. “I was just...”
His smile deepens. “I know what you were doing. And it’s perfectly fine. I’m nothing if not adaptable.”
My eyes narrow as I study his face. There’s more going on in his mind than he’s showing in his expression, and I don’t know how to read it.
But I want to read it.
I really want to know what he’s thinking.
I want to know him for real.
But one thing I’m sure of. This man is dangerous to me. I’m here to make decisions for myself and not let myself get swept away by something completely out of my control.
So it will be far smarter to stick to my original plan and let this man pass out of my life as soon as we reach the hotel.
SEVERAL HOURS LATER, I’ve picked out my man. And also a backup in case my first choice doesn’t work out.
I’m sitting at the bar in the hotel, sipping a glass of prosecco and wearing an outfit I’ve been planning out for weeks. I want to look sexy but also like I’m here for a work function, so I’m wearing a black pencil skirt, a simple top that clings to my breasts but doesn’t look outright provocative, and my only pair of designer heels.
I’ve got ash-blond hair, gray eyes, and a medium-sized figure—more curvy than slim. I walk several miles every day—mostly to get out of the house so I don’t work constantly—so I’m in decent shape. My legs aren’t superlong, but they’re not bad in heels. Several men looked over when I walked into the bar fifteen minutes ago. No one was drooling over me, but at least a few of them noticed.
Not that there’s a lot of competition at the moment. There’s only one other woman here alone, and she’s over fifty and working studiously on her laptop, so she’s obviously not looking for company.
The guy I’ve picked out for myself is wearing khakis and an untucked green shirt. He’s got rumpled brown hair and looks around my age. He’s cute in a geeky way—exactly as I want. He watched me from the beginning when I walked over to the bar and slid onto the stool. And whenever I glance over, I catch him looking again.
I get no creepy vibes from him at all. He’s sitting by himself with his iPad. When I glance over again, our eyes meet, and I give him a little smile.
He smiles back, looking pleased and maybe a little surprised.
This is what I want. Someone who thinks he’s lucked out by being with me. I don’t care if he’s experienced or skillful in bed. I just want him to be nice and kind of cute.
My stomach twists in excitement. My head buzzes in anticipation.
This is going to work.
I’m going to make something happen that I want.
I have a good feeling about that guy.
I’m finally going to have sex. Then I can go home with the mission accomplished and start my new life.
When I look over at the man again with another smile, I can see he’s about to get up to talk to me. I’m so focused on what’s coming that I don’t even notice Richard Steele has come into the bar until he slides onto the stool right beside me.
My spine stiffens as I stare at him, feeling another wave of bone-deep attraction at the sight of his handsome face, the silver in his thick hair, the little lines beside his eyes and the corners of his agile mouth.
“Is this seat taken?” he asks, a dry lilt in his voice that manages to convey amusement and intelligence and a conscious self-deprecation.
I blink. “Oh, uh...” I have no idea what to tell him. I want him to go away. He’s far too much of a distraction for me right now, and he’s way too attractive and sophisticated.
Even the way he orders a scotch when the bartender comes over to see what he wants is smoother than a normal person.
He’s going to scare away the cute guy I picked out for tonight.
I look around Richard’s body at the guy, and I can see the disappointment on his face.
Shit.
Richard is going to ruin this for me—by the simple fact of his presence beside me.
“I’m actually not... not...” I wish I wasn’t tongue-tied. I’m usually a relatively articulate person, but this man is too, too much.
I almost groan when I see the cute guy start to leave.
Damn it. Things were going so well until Richard showed up.
“I’m sorry,” he says with another too-knowing smile. He glances over his shoulder. “Did I get in the way of something you had going on?” He leans closer to me and murmurs, “Let me give you a piece of advice. If a man gets scared away by a little competition, then he’s really not worth your time.”
I’m suddenly not tongue-tied anymore. I’m annoyed. Something rises inside me at the arrogant presumption of this man like a sleeping dragon roused into battle. “You have absolutely no idea what my time is worth or how I want to spend it.”
He doesn’t look the slightest bit cowed by my cool tone. “True. But I’m pretty observant. And you were scoping the place out in a fairly obvious manner. Plus you’re dressed up sexy. I assume you’re looking for someone to spend the night with.”
My mouth drops open as I momentarily forget about the nerdy guy who is leaving the bar and my long-planned purpose for tonight. My cheeks warm, but my voice is even colder than before. “That’s far beyond presumptuous. And I’m wearing perfectly normal clothes.”
“They are normal,” he says, the corners of his mouth turning up in a way that’s infuriatingly irresistible. “But they’re also a lot sexier than what you were wearing this afternoon. I bet you don’t wear heels like that very often.”
“That’s not any of your business.”
“Of course it’s not my business, but you just said you weren’t dressed sexy, and that’s simply not true.” He leans forward again, far enough to murmur into my ear, “You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Chills run down my spine at the husky note of his voice. At how much I want to believe what he’s saying.
But that’s the thing.
I don’t believe it.
There’s no way in the world—not any world at any time in any universe—that a man like Richard Steele hasn’t seen a woman sexier than me.
I’m pretty enough. And I’m sure I could be sexy if given the opportunity.
But I’m also invisible.
Something strange is going on here.
I straighten up on the stool and frown at him. “Okay. You can stop with the act and just tell me what you want.”
That surprises him. I can see it in the widening of his ridiculously blue eyes and the way he grows still for just a moment. “What I want?”
“Yes, what you want.” I wave my hand vaguely between us. “Because you’re good. Really good. This... whatever it is... is very well done but too over-the-top to be convincing. So tell me what you want so we can get this finished and I can get back to my evening.”
I glance over to the opposite corner of the room and see that my backup guy is still there. All isn’t lost if I can just get rid of Richard so I can regain my momentum.
“What could I possibly want other than your company?” He’s recovered from his surprise. He’s as smooth and dry as fine wine again.
“I have no idea. But a man like you doesn’t make a move on a woman like me for no reason.”
“What do you mean a woman like you?” His tone is different now. So is
his expression. I can’t exactly pin down the change, but it feels realer. More natural. “Why wouldn’t I make a move on a woman like you?”
“Because you wouldn’t. I’ve lived thirty-two years with my body and my personality. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with me, but men like you don’t go for me.”
“Men like me?”
“Oh please. You know exactly what I’m talking about. You’d give George Clooney a run for his money. And you’re obviously very good at stalling and avoiding answering questions, but I’m asking you again. What exactly do you want?”
“I really don’t want anything. I just saw you over here and came to talk.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t believe you.”
“I can’t do anything about what you believe. I can just tell you the truth.”
“But you’re not telling me the truth. Seriously. If I knew any state secrets, I’d swear you were a spy, trying to seduce me into spilling everything I know.”
He laughs for real. It looks and sounds genuine. He’s different now. Whatever game he was playing earlier is over. “I promise I’m not a spy.”
“If you were, you’d be a pretty incompetent one, going after someone who knows absolutely nothing.”
“I’m definitely not incompetent.” His eyes are resting on my face again, and they feel appreciative rather than calculating. As if he’s really seeing me. As if he’s really thinking about me.
As if I’m not invisible to him anymore.
“I wouldn’t think so. But that leaves me with more questions. Because I have absolutely no idea what you could want from me.” A little flicker of an idea sparks painfully. “You’re not... I mean Ashley and Sean didn’t... didn’t hire you or something, did they?”
The idea is horrifying.
Utterly horrifying.
The confusion on his face would be hard to fake. “What?”
I shake my head. There’s no way. Ashley would never do that to me. She’d know how much it would hurt and humiliate me. She wouldn’t.
“What would I have been hired to do?”
“Nothing. It was just a random thought. Anyway, whatever you’re trying to do isn’t going to work. I don’t trust you, and I’m not going to believe anything you tell me. So would you mind sitting somewhere else? You’re getting in the way.”
To my surprise, he actually rises to his feet, but he doesn’t walk away immediately. He tilts his head down to murmur, “What am I getting in the way of?”
“That’s not your concern. So go sit over there and mind your own business.”
He laughs as he strolls to the other side of the bar with his glass of scotch. He takes the farthest stool and settles in with an expression of aggrieved resignation.
I try to roll my eyes and keep my expression lofty and disinterested, but I have a hard time not laughing in response.
Now that he’s gone, I turn my body to subtly study my backup guy. He’s still there, and he glances over when my eyes are on him. I give him a little smile, and he returns it in surprise.
I try to regain my momentum. My purpose. My excitement about having sex for the first time.
But I can feel Richard watching me. I can sense him sitting over there with his blue eyes and his sexy intelligence and his knowing smile.
And it’s distracting.
It’s hard to get excited about having sex with a geeky stranger when there’s a fantasy man sitting not far away, smirking at you.
Damn the man. I really feel like I could smack him. He might as well be doing it on purpose.
I was so ready to get rid of my virginity tonight.
For the next ten minutes, I try to make eyes at my backup guy and find the will to make a definite move. To close the deal.
But I don’t. I can’t. I just can’t bring myself to go talk to him, and he’s obviously not confident enough to come talk to me.
Despite all my plans, tonight is going to be a bust.
And it’s all Richard’s fault.
I empty my glass and then slump forward, leaning my head on one hand. I’ll try again tomorrow. Hopefully Richard Steele won’t be around then so I won’t be so distracted.
When the bartender brings me another full glass, I stare at the bubbly liquid in surprise. “I didn’t ask for this.”
The bartender nods in Richard’s direction.
I roll my eyes, tempted to refuse the drink for no other reason than his smugness.
I don’t. I could use another drink. I might as well relax since tonight’s not going to be my first time after all.
When I slant Richard a little look as I take my first sip, he grins and comes back to sit beside me.
“Seriously, Gillian,” he murmurs in a tone of exaggerated seriousness. “If you wanted to have a one-night stand, you could have just asked me.”
I almost choke on my drink. Partly because of what he just said and partly because it’s not the prosecco I was drinking.
It’s very expensive champagne.
“I don’t want—”
“Then what did you have those two men picked out for then? You could have closed the deal with the second one. He wasn’t going to make a move himself, but he definitely would have responded if you’d made the first move.”
I want to shake him. I really do. But it’s also impossible not to respond to his irrepressible little smile. “You’re kind of a dick, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I am. But just kind of. Not entirely.”
“I believe you,” I say, giving up and laughing even as I shake my head. “But the dickish part of you is the dominant one at the moment. Are you just bored or something? Is that why you’re set on driving me crazy like this?”
“Yeah. I am bored. And you interest me. More than I expected. Does that really surprise you so much?”
“Yes. It does. I’m used to being invisible.”
“Don’t you think part of that is because you don’t let many people see who you really are?”
“So you’re saying it’s my fault I’ve been invisible all my life?”
“No. People are blind to what’s right in front of them more often than not. But something happened a little while ago while you were talking to me. It was like you came to life. You let me see who you really are. That’s when I got interested.”
I’m not a foolish woman.
I’m not.
I’m smart and safe and cautious, and I never, ever do anything without thinking it through.
But I believe what Richard just said. I didn’t believe him before, but I do now. It doesn’t feel like he’s playing a game anymore or putting on an act.
It feels like he sees me.
Like he’s interested in me.
All my previous jitters of excitement come back to life with more force than I’ve ever experienced them before.
“So tell me the truth,” Richard says, swirling the remaining liquor in his glass. “You are looking for a one-night stand tonight.”
“Maybe.” It’s mostly true. It’s not the whole truth, but my lack of experience isn’t something I’m going to share with a stranger.
Any stranger.
I add, “I’ve never had a one-night stand before.”
The corner of his mouth turns up. “I was wondering what mission you were set on tonight. Since I got in the way of the guys you had picked out, it’s only fair that I offer a replacement.”
I narrow my eyes and hold my breath as I wait.
He finishes his scotch and sets the empty glass on the bar on top of a fifty-dollar bill.
A fifty. That’s the tip he’s leaving the bartender.
Then he leans over and murmurs into my ear. “I’m in room twenty-twenty. If you want a one-night stand, I won’t disappoint you.”
I stare at him in frozen astonishment—my whole body consumed with a delicious buzzing—as he slides a key card under my hand, which is resting on the polished surface of the bar.
Before I can respond—or even get my mouth to form a
single word—he’s disappearing out the door.
I sit for several minutes, my hand on top of the key card.
I wanted to have sex tonight, and now I have the opportunity after all.
Sex with a man who could have stepped right out of my daydreams.
I don’t have to know him or trust him or even believe he’s telling me the truth.
It’s just sex.
And I want to have it.
I want to have sex with Richard Steele.
He’s offering, and there’s no good reason I should refuse.
I’ve spent too much of my life not taking what I really want—too afraid of the consequences to take a risk—and I don’t want to live that way anymore.
So I stand up, closing my fingers around the key card.
I’m going to do it.
My third life starts tonight.
Two
I STOP BY THE RESTROOM before I head upstairs. For the most part, I’m prepared. I’d showered and shaved and put on a pretty blue bra and panty set under my clothes before I went down to the bar so I’d be ready for whatever might happen tonight.
But I figure it’ll be easier if I don’t need to pee while I’m trying to have sex for the first time.
As I wash my hands afterward, I stare at myself in the mirror. Dark gray eyes. Regular features. Pink cheeks. Minimal makeup. Thick blond hair hanging down past my shoulders, straight and smooth because I spent twenty minutes blowing it out this morning.
It’s my normal face. My blue top is clingier than what I usually wear, showing off the curves of my figure. But otherwise I don’t look much different than I ever do.
It’s a pleasant reflection in the mirror. Familiar. But nothing special. Maybe a bit vanilla.
I have no idea why Richard decided he wants to spend the night with me.
Maybe he told me the truth. Maybe he’s really just bored and any sex is better than no sex.
It doesn’t matter.
I was expecting a mediocre experience at best for my first time. Assumed that was the most I could hope for. But I can’t imagine Richard would ever let himself be mediocre.
Who he really is and what he’s hiding beneath his slick surface isn’t important for one night of sex. If I don’t do this now, I know—I know—I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. I’ll always wonder what I might have missed.
