by Brenda Novak
The guy at the bar did look like Hugh Jackman. He had coffee-colored eyes and hair, with short sideburns. Plus high cheekbones, a narrow nose and square jaw. His body type seemed similar, too—all muscle and no fat. But that was half the problem. Why did Rebecca have to choose someone so intimidating?
“If you think he’s so cute, you sleep with him,” Delaney grumbled.
“I’m not the one who wants a baby,” Rebecca reminded her. “At least, I’m not in any hurry.”
Because Rebecca wasn’t the one who’d been taken in but not legally adopted, who was going to be alone, who’d always been alone. “Well, I’m not ready for this,” Delaney said. “We should’ve waited until tomorrow night or next week or—”
“Or never? You would’ve chickened out. I know you. You would’ve started thinking about how unfair it is not to be completely up front about your intentions and—”
“Because it is unfair.”
“Except that it won’t cost the guy you sleep with anything to make you the happiest woman on earth.” Rebecca checked over her shoulder again. “Now, go talk to him.”
Delaney’s stomach plummeted to her knees. “Just like that?”
“Why not? What are you waiting for?”
A personality transplant. This just wasn’t her. She’d never come on to a guy before. Which was probably why she’d die a virgin if she didn’t make some changes soon, she told herself. Rebecca had managed to find a husband and was going to get married. Maybe she should take Rebecca’s advice on this. But why did her friend have to choose a guy who looked like he could be Hugh Jackman’s twin brother?
“He’s at the bar,” she told Rebecca. “A guy who sits at the bar is interested in serious drinking, not socializing. We’d better find someone else.” But when Delaney surveyed the lounge, she realized how hopeless that would be. Of the fourteen or so patrons, more than half were women. The men consisted of an elderly gentleman, a barrel-chested, bearded guy somewhere in his forties, two nerdy computer types who had their hair greased down and gave Delaney the creeps, and a redneck cowboy sitting next to the Hugh Jackman look-alike.
Rebecca cocked an eyebrow at her. “If there’s someone here you’d rather sleep with, go for it. But it looks to me like Hugh’s our most eligible donor. He’s only drinking a beer. That’s hardly ‘serious drinking.’ And he seems friendly enough. He sort of smiled when we came in.”
“Sort of smiled? He ducked his head and turned away the second you zeroed in on him.”
“Well, he definitely smiled at us in the mirror afterward.”
Delaney didn’t remember a smile. She remembered his eyes, though. They’d followed her, appraised her boldly.
“Go,” Rebecca prodded. “The worst that can happen is he tells you he’s married. Then you politely excuse yourself and we try someone else.”
“I’m never going to get over this experience,” Delaney moaned. “I just know it.”
“Do you want a baby or not?”
She did. And she wanted to be pregnant before Rebecca left, so she’d have something positive to look forward to.
Taking a deep breath, she stood and forced herself to approach the bar. Better to get this over and done with, right?
She saw his gaze flick over her in the mirror, guessed he’d been expecting her—and felt like a complete fool. Especially since the guy sitting next to him was watching her far more eagerly, and she knew she wouldn’t sleep with him if he was the last man on earth.
Relax. Pretend you’re someone else, someone chic and bold and—she gulped—easy.
“Hi,” she said, sliding onto the empty stool next to him. She’d been planning to order a drink to make her approach a little less obvious, but her timing wasn’t good. The bartender had turned around and was busy fiddling with the television in the corner.
She glanced forlornly at his back, then braved a smile at the man she hoped would father her child.
He studied her for several seconds before responding. “Hi,” he said, but he didn’t return her smile or swivel toward her or do anything else to encourage her. It stung Delaney’s pride enough to make her sit up and pretend confidence in what she was doing.
“You live around here?” she asked, keeping her focus strictly on him because the man in the red flannel shirt kept leaning forward to entice her with a battered grin. He might as well have been holding a sign that read “Take me,” but Delaney simply wasn’t interested. She’d do the artificial thing first.
“No, I’m just in town for the night,” the younger man said. “What about you?”
Now that she was so close, she could tell his eyes weren’t entirely brown. Gold flecks made them appear almost amber, and there was something inside them that seemed more worldly wise than Delaney would have expected for a man who seemed to be about her own age. After only a few seconds in his company, he reminded her much less of Hugh Jackman. He didn’t possess the same relaxed smile or laid-back attitude. This man came across as intense, shrewd, even unforgiving, which added significantly to Delaney’s anxiety.
I don’t have to worry about his ability to forgive. I’m never going to see him again.
His eyes fell to the cleavage revealed by her dress, and she instinctively moved to cover herself. Rebecca had insisted she go without underwear—there wasn’t any way to hide the lines and straps beneath the stretchy fabric—but the lack of her most basic apparel made her feel completely exposed. Leaning forward, she folded her arms on the bar and hid her chest behind them, just as Rebecca came to her rescue by engaging the leering cowboy and drawing him away to their table.
“I live a couple of hours from here,” she responded automatically, then wanted to kick herself for being so truthful. The less he knew about her the better.
“Oh, really? Where?” Unless it was her imagination, his voice revealed a spark of interest.
“Jerome,” she lied, picking a town on the opposite side of Boise.
“Oh.”
The spark died, and an awkward silence followed, during which Delaney curled her fingers into her palms and thought of all the ways she planned to torture Rebecca for pushing her into this. She was going to tell Buddy that Rebecca had a snoring problem. She was going to hold Rebecca to her promise to quit smoking, starting immediately. She was going to unscrew the lid on their salt shaker and—and what? Delaney couldn’t think of anything terrible enough, not while she was feeling like such a fool, but she knew Rebecca deserved whatever she came up with. If not for her, Delaney would be safe at home dreaming about a baby…and doing absolutely nothing to make it a reality.
That thought sobered her enough to keep her where she was. One night, one man, remember? No big deal.
“What can I get for you?” the bartender asked, finally making his way over.
Delaney ordered a club soda and opened her purse to get her money, but the man surprised her by paying for it. “What are you and your friend doing in town?” he asked, once her drink had been delivered.
Delaney took a sip and focused on his hands, which circled his beer glass. They were big, strong hands. And he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. “Uh, it’s a business trip,” she said.
“And you’re looking for something to relieve the boredom, is that it?”
Evidently he wasn’t much for small talk. But Delaney didn’t mind. Being direct could save a lot of time. Besides, if she had her guess, his type would be selfish and quick in the bedroom, which suited her just fine. She didn’t want to enjoy the experience. That would make what she was doing seem even worse than it already was.
“I suppose so,” she said, wishing her heart would quit jumping around in her chest. “You game?”
He took a drink of his beer. “What’s your name?”
Delaney thought about using a false name, then decided against it. She didn’t want the added worry of having to remember it, and as long as they remained on a first-name basis, she couldn’t see any harm in telling him the truth. “Delaney.”
&n
bsp; “Delaney’s some name. And that’s some dress.”
The way he said it, she couldn’t be sure it was a compliment. He wasn’t easy to read, but she was sort of grateful for that. His lackluster response made the initial contact difficult, but if she could just get him into a room, she wouldn’t have a lot to worry about. He was too aloof to connect with her on a personal level. And he definitely seemed the type to take a brief encounter in stride. Rebecca might have been judging him on different criteria, but she was right—he was perfect for their purposes.
“And your name is…”
“Conner.”
He didn’t offer a last name, either, and Delaney took that as a sign that they were thinking along the same lines. “So, Conner,” she said. “Do you want to…” She couldn’t complete the question, but she figured he’d understand what she meant.
He raised his brows and looked over his shoulder. Rebecca was sitting with the cowboy, having a drink and talking while watching them surreptitiously. “Are you sure you know what you want?”
“What do you mean? Doesn’t this dress say it all?”
“It says a lot,” he admitted, “but the way your hands are shaking says even more.”
“I’ve never done this before.”
“Then, why are you starting now?”
Delaney hadn’t expected such frank questions. All she’d hoped to do was catch a man’s eye and dazzle him to the point that he’d give her what she wanted. Obviously Conner didn’t dazzle easily.
“Why not?” she asked.
“Fair enough, but I’ve got to get up early. I think I’ll pass,” he said.
He stood, and she knew that in a moment, he’d leave and her best chance of making her plan work would disappear with him.
Swallowing hard, she caught his arm. “Okay, would you want to be a virgin at thirty?”
* * *
SO THAT WAS DELANEY’S STORY. Conner had known something was up. All the warning bells in his head had been going off. But now that he understood her agenda, he could definitely see her point. He wouldn’t want to be a virgin, not with one-third of his life already over.
Hesitating, Conner stared down at the hand that held him, then at the honest appeal in the woman’s face. He didn’t want to be tempted, but he was. He’d been tempted since he’d seen her in the mirror, because of her eyes, not her dress. But he knew he was only setting himself up for more self-defeating behavior. One-night stands didn’t do anything for him. He always woke in the morning feeling empty inside, as though he was missing something important. And yet here he was, hovering at the brink of taking the uninitiated Delaney to his room and giving her exactly what she was looking for, probably more than once.
“Don’t you have a boyfriend?” he asked.
She gave him an “I’m not that low” look. “Do you think I’d approach a complete stranger if I did?”
Conner shrugged. “Some people get off on it.”
“That’s not my style.”
Judging by the way she kept hiding behind her arms and chewing her lip, Conner believed her. She was far too nervous to be enjoying this. “You know it would be better to wait for someone who means something to you, don’t you?”
“I’m thirty. I’m not sixteen,” she said with just the right amount of pique to convince him he didn’t need to coddle her.
“I realize that. I just don’t want you to have any regrets later.”
“Like I said, I’m thirty. I’m old enough to know what I want and to worry about my own regrets. I won’t bother you with them.”
“And if I still say no?”
“Then, I’ll find someone else.”
There he had it. She’d do it anyway. And hanging out at bars, shopping for a guy to relieve her of her virginity, was dangerous. If Delaney wasn’t careful, she could wind up with someone who liked things rough. Or she could contract a communicable disease. At least Conner knew she’d be safe with him. He liked women, he treated them kindly and he was clean. He could do her this one favor, couldn’t he?
He smiled at his thoughts, and she smiled shyly back. “What are we going to do with your friend?” he asked.
“Don’t worry about Rebecca. She’s engaged to be married. She’ll just get a room by herself.”
“You should know, I’ve never been with a virgin,” he said, still half hoping to discourage her, “so if there are any special tricks for making it more comfortable the first time, I don’t know them.”
She couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “I’m not asking for any special treatment. Whatever you normally do will be fine. I just want to, you know, get it over with.”
Get it over with? No wonder Delaney was still a virgin. She was acting like she was about to go in for surgery, which, perversely enough, made Conner that much more eager to show her how good sex could be.
He glanced over to make sure the bartender was out of earshot. “Do you have protection?” he asked. Condoms weren’t something he’d packed. Neither were they something he’d expected to need, at least not on his first night.
“You don’t have to worry about that.”
“You’ve already taken care of it?”
She nodded. “Unless I need to worry about protecting myself from—”
“You’re not going to get anything from me.”
Delaney seemed relieved. To her credit, his physical health had apparently been a big concern.
“That’s great,” she said. “So, are we good to go?”
She was back to the “get it over with” attitude, which wasn’t natural. She was too attractive to continue equating sex with having bamboo shoots shoved beneath her nails.
Maybe by morning, she’d have a different take on physical intimacy. Conner sure hoped so. “I’m in room 431,” he said. “Tell your girlfriend goodbye and meet me there.”
CHAPTER THREE
ROOM 431. For a minute, Delaney sat at the bar and stared at the doorway through which Conner had disappeared. She might have stayed there all night if not for Rebecca, who came up from behind to see what had happened.
“So?” she asked. “How’d it go?”
Delaney wasn’t sure what to say. The cowboy Rebecca had drawn away was still at the table, but the bartender hovered close in case Rebecca intended to order a drink and Delaney didn’t really want him or anyone else to know what she was about to do. She still couldn’t believe it herself.
Taking Delaney by the elbow, Rebecca tried to steer her away from the bar, but Delaney wasn’t ready to go anywhere yet. “Give me a shot of tequila,” she told the bartender.
He seemed a little surprised that someone who’d just ordered soda water would suddenly go for the strong stuff, but he got her the drink, and she downed it in one gulp.
“I take it that’s a yes,” Rebecca said, pounding her on the back when she coughed and sputtered. “Or a very strong no.”
“It’s a yes,” Delaney managed to say, when her eyes stopped watering. She hated tequila, but she needed something to calm her down so her legs would be capable of carrying her to room 431. “Give me one more,” she told the bartender.
“Whoa, slow down, Laney. You don’t want to pass out before you get there,” Rebecca said, when Delaney swallowed the second shot as fast as the first.
“I’m done,” Delaney croaked. Her eyes were watering all over again but the alcohol was doing a slow burn in her stomach, and she felt heartened already. Grabbing her purse, she slid off the stool. “What are you going to do while I’m…while I’m…busy?” she asked.
Rebecca frowned at the cowboy waiting for her at the table. “I’m going to lose Lover-boy there and get a room. I’ll leave you a key with my room number at the front desk.”
“Okay. I’ll be in room 431. With Conner,” Delaney added. Then she squared her shoulders and started for the door, her eyes on the elevators beyond, but Rebecca called her back.
“Will you be all right, Laney? You’re whiter than a sheet.”
“I’ll be
fine.”
“The hard part’s over, you know. You’ve just gotta—”
Delaney raised a hand. “I really don’t want a pep talk at the moment. Not for this.” She frowned. “I keep expecting to wake up and realize I’ve been dreaming.”
“You’ll thank me later.”
“If it works.”
“Just play your cards right, and it will.”
Play her cards right? She was a virgin. She didn’t know how to play this game at all. But she hadn’t taken those assertiveness classes for nothing.
The lobby was empty except for a night clerk standing behind the check-in counter. He was clicking away on a computer and didn’t look up as Delaney passed, despite the echo of her heels on the marble floor. She was glad; she didn’t want to have to smile and nod and pretend she wasn’t going to a stranger’s room.
She kept her mind carefully blank as she rode the elevator and navigated the long narrow corridors of the fourth floor, but all her fears came flooding back when she finally stood in front of room 431.
This is it. Tomorrow I might be pregnant or I might be sorry.
With a deep breath to steady her nerves, she told herself to take a risk for once. This could bring her a baby. A baby! And Conner would never miss what he was giving her. He’d never even know.
On the other hand, there’d be no going back….
She was still hovering in indecision when a bellman came around the corner.
“You having trouble getting into your room, ma’am?”
“No, thanks. I’m fine.”
“Okay. Have a good night.” He passed, pulling an empty luggage cart, and turned toward the elevators, but Conner must have heard their exchange because he opened his door.
“I thought that might be you. I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t hear your knock.”
Delaney didn’t mention that she hadn’t knocked, that she might never have knocked. She was too busy trying not to stare. Conner had taken a shower. He stood before her wearing nothing but a pair of faded blue jeans that had obviously been donned quickly—the top button was undone. His hair was combed but still wet, and she could tell he’d shaved, but it was his chest that made her mouth go dry. Broad and sculptured, with just a sprinkling of hair that narrowed into a thin line intersecting his navel, it looked like something she might’ve seen in a fitness magazine. Steam rolled out of the bathroom behind him, adding a bit of atmosphere, and Delaney could smell dampness and the scent of his shampoo.
