by Sabrina York
Rex reached out and dragged her into their embrace. They love me, too. They really do.
Chapter Six
They made it to the Christmas party. How, Andie didn’t know. But after a while they stopped kissing and hugging and got into their glad rags. Paul wanted to celebrate, and the party was at the lodge. Along with her gift, he pointed out. She’d tucked hers for them in her evening bag.
At the lodge, the men disappeared to fetch her present, and Kathryn appeared at her side. “Looks like it all worked out?”
“I’m so glad you weren’t flying out again.”
The other woman shrugged. She wore her red-gold hair down, and her green velvet gown clung to her figure, enhancing her slender curves. “I’m glad, too. It’s our anniversary, did I tell you? I want you to meet my husband.”
A tall, dark-haired man joined them, and Kathryn fairly glowed with happiness. “This is my husband, Nick Castillo. Nick, this is the passenger I told you about.”
Nick took her hand. “I hope your date is going well?”
He knew all about her, and for a moment her cheeks heated. Then she pushed any doubts aside. No shame in being well loved.
“How did you like your polar bear?” she asked.
He looked puzzled and Kathryn giggled. “I’m afraid I finished the cookies before he got to them. I’m sorry, dear.”
“Ina’s cookies, were they?” Nick shrugged. “I guess I’ll have to get used to things like that.”
Kathryn patted her flatbelly. “My Christmas/anniversary gift to Nick. We just found out.”
“Congratulations!” She hugged them both, basking in their happiness, but as they wandered off to dance, she wondered if she’d have that joy. Back home, if she got pregnant the gossip would be horrible and mean. She couldn’t do that to a baby.
She found herself in a corner near the glittering Christmas tree. Couples danced and shared selections from the decadent dessert buffet. I guess the guys will get dessert after all. The guys…. They’d kept their relationship from her for how long? She didn’t know. A year? Two?
All those evenings at their apartment where she’d sat—God, she’d sat in between them, watching TV on their sofa. She’d cooked dinner for them and stayed late into the evening.
While she’d been hoping they’d make a pass at her—both of them—they’d been waiting for her to leave, so they could get down to business. How could she not have noticed?
On her own, even for a few minutes, her doubts returned in force.
Then she remembered. Rex called their evening together their ultimate fantasy. And Paul’s words: how many times do we have to say we love you?
Maybe a baby would be out of the question, but she had enough happiness for a lifetime and to want more would be greedy.
Her men returned and Paul handed her an envelope. She tore it open and drew out a single page.
Andie,
When we went out for wood, we really headed over to the lodge to buy you a present. We looked at every gift in the shop, but no fancy Christmas ornament or pair of earrings expressed what we wanted it to say. So, we decided if the evening went as we hoped, we would give you…us. Will you be our girl, our princess, forever?
She blinked back tears, bidding good-bye to babies. Her two best friends were enough for her. “Of course. Do I get a tattoo?”
“There’s a Castillo employee here this week who can do it for you, if you like. The same one who did ours.” Rex’s smile brightened his dark face, his eyes nearly gold with happiness.
Her presents seemed small now. A month of dinners each. She hadn’t had any money left, but they both beamed at her gift.
Paul looked away and then back. “There’s one more thing. I don’t—we don’t—want to stay in California. If you’re up for it, we shouldn’t have any problem getting work in Alaska. Rex can transfer, and Nick Castillo told me firefighters are at a premium here.”
Rex nodded. “We want to be a family, and here in Castle, love comes first.”
“Really?” she asked, amazed at the turn of events. “Where did you hear that?”
“Nick Castillo himself. We can even rent the cabin until we build our own,” he said. “And if you want to work, he said the lodge would hire you in a minute. They can always use a skilled chef.”
“Unless you just want to feed us.” Paul beamed with happiness. “But first, I’m going to look into a team of sled dogs.”
~ABOUT THE AUTHOR~
Kate Richards lives with her wonderful husband and menagerie of adopted pets in sunny SoCal. She loves the beach, the High Sierra, where she has a very tiny cabin, and spending her days making sure all of her characters—eventually—get to have a happily ever after.
Kate loves hearing from her readers, and you can email her at [email protected], visit at http://katerichards.wordpress.com, or stop by her Facebook katerichardsauthor.
Fierce
A 1Night Stand Story
By
Sabrina York
~Dedication~
For the fiercest woman I know. Carmen Cook.
Chapter One
“He never made you come?”
Katie glared across the table at her friend. Really? Did Joy need to squeal quite so loudly? She shot a glance around the room to make sure every man in the elegant bar of the Castillo Hotel wasn’t gawking at them.
No. Only a few of them.
Her gaze tangled with that of the gorgeous hunk at the next table and a bolt of electricity—and mortification—shot through her belly. She’d noticed him sitting there when she walked in. Couldn’t help it. He was everything she’d ever craved in a man. Large and looming. Dark. Dreamy. He had a square cut jaw and close cropped ebony hair. His eyes were like sharp emeralds wreathed in sinfully sooty lashes. He lounged back in his chair like a lazy cat with his denim clad legs—long legs—stretched out.
What a pity she had sworn off men.
She wrenched her attention from his perfect features, the quirk of his tantalizing mouth, and fixed her focus on Joy. “Keep your voice down,” she hissed.
“Oh. Sorry. Right. Of course.” Joy made a little lip-locking gesture with her fingers and threw away an imaginary key but they both knew it was only for show.
Joy had been drinking. And when she drank, she had a tendency to squeal. When she’d been drinking tequila—or as Katie liked to call it, “Ta Kill Ya”—she had a tendency to squeal very embarrassing things. Confidential things. Loudly. In bars filled with hot and sexy men.
Hot and sexy men who might, at an earlier point in the evening, have been tempted to ask Katie to dance.
Now—now her secret was literally and figuratively out—they avoided her gaze.
As though she had the gaze plague.
Katie blew out a breath and her bangs fluffed up. Great. Now everyone knew about her miserable love life.
Although it hardly mattered.
She had, after all, sworn off men.
It was a good decision. It was.
“I can’t believe you’ve never had an orgasm.” Apparently Joy had found the far-flung key and unlocked her lips.
Katie frowned. “I didn’t say I’ve never had an orgasm. I said Mark never made me come. There’s a difference.”
“I don’t see the distinction.” Joy lifted a commanding finger at Esteban, the poor beleaguered bartender, and he nodded. Words, at this point in the evening, were hardly necessary.
Katie leaned closer and dropped her voice to a whisper. “I’ve had orgasms.”
Joy’s face puckered the way only a woman deep into a satisfying one-night stand with Jose Cuervo can pucker. “But wait. I thought you said Mark was your first.”
“He was.”
“And your only.” Joy counted on her fingers, although there was no need. Also, she was up to six.
“Yes.”
“And he never made you come.”
“Right.” Did she really need to keep mentioning it? Katie had only blurted the confessio
n to shut her up about the ridiculous matchmaking service she kept babbling on about. Because who wanted to fling herself into a relationship after finally wriggling free of ten years of apathy?
Joy closed one eye and surveyed Katie through a squint. “So, who made you come?”
God. How mortifying was this conversation? “I’m a modern woman, Joy. I take ownership of my own pleasure.”
Joy’s mouth opened and closed like a delicate goldfish—or a trout—as she processed the information.
And it took her brain a while to process the information…on account of the pickling and all.
“Oh. Oh. Oh. I get it. You mean you…took care of your own business.”
“Yes.” Katie had been taking care of her own business for years. Since puberty, in fact. And it suited her fine.
She knew what she wanted. What she needed.
Men just couldn’t get it right.
At least, Mark hadn’t gotten it right.
Ever.
It only stood to reason other men would be as impatient. As selfish.
They were selfish creatures after all.
“Well, those orgasms don’t count.” Joy whipped around and glared at Esteban who was taking far too long with her drink. When the glaring didn’t work, she held up her glass and jiggled the ice.
“What do you mean they don’t count?” They counted plenty fine.
“’Snot an orgasm unless a man gives it to you.”
Katie raised a brow. “I know some lesbians who would take umbrage with such a pronouncement.”
Joy snorted. “Dee and Gayle would understand, when I say a man, I mean a partner.” She tipped her head to the side and batted her lashes. “I’m partial to men, you know.”
Yeah.
Everybody knew.
“Well, I disagree with you. I think an orgasm is an orgasm is an orgasm.”
“Spoken like a true virgin.”
Katie glowered. “I am hardly a virgin.”
“You are. You’re an orgasm virgin.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“It most certainly is!” Joy raised her glass in the air and turned once more to bellow, “Where the hell is my drink—” only to find Esteban at her elbow. “Oh, there you are.”
He set the glass on the table and shot Katie a look. She knew that look. “Don’t worry,” she murmured. “I’ll make sure she gets to her room okay.” He nodded and, with another quick glance at Joy, headed back to the bar.
Joy took a sip of her drink and made a face. “God save us from men with good intentions,” she muttered.
Katie bit back a grin. “What do you mean?”
“It’s soda. With a splash. As though I’m too drunk to tell the difference.”
“I think we can all agree, you’ve had plenty.”
“True.” Joy shot her a contrite look. “But I needed to shore up my courage.”
Something cold walked up Katie’s spine. “Why would you need to shore up your courage?”
“Darling.” Joy grasped her hand. “I have a confession to make.”
The cold thing dug in its claws.
“What?” Hard to speak through frozen lips.
“I didn’t invite you to spend the weekend in Vegas just to celebrate your divorce. Although it is certainly worth celebrating.” She lifted her glass.
“Then why?” Katie’s pulse thrummed. She felt the ping of a tension headache coming on.
“You know the service I’ve been telling you about?”
“The one you used? The Madame Eve?” Yeah. Definitely a headache.
“Yes. And, need I repeat, best night of my life?”
God no. Katie had heard enough about that night. Over and over and over again.
“I was thinking about you and Mark and the fact you don’t seem to be bounding back from the breakup.”
“Bounding back?” The papers had come through last Tuesday.
“So I submitted your profile.”
Oh no. No. No. Her heart stalled. “You didn’t.”
“I did. And Madame Eve found the perfect man for you.”
“Oh hell.” Fear—and something even more primal—snarled through Katie’s bowels. “How many times do I need to tell you, Joy? I’m not interested in another relationship. I’m done. I’m free.”
“That’s why this is perfect, Katie. You see, it’s not a dating service. It’s not a about an LTR. Madame Eve’s service is called 1Night Stand. And I’m willing to bet the guy she’s found for you—given the profile I sent in—will be the perfect man to give you what you need. I am even more convinced of it now that I know the truth about your virginity.”
Katie glared. Maybe she should leave Joy here in the bar to languish with the lounge lizards. “And what, pray tell, do I need?”
“You need a man honey,” Joy said. “One who can make you come like gangbusters. And you’re meeting him here. Tonight.”
Chapter Two
Katie gaped at her friend. Just gaped. It was all she could manage.
Joy reached across the table and gently closed her mouth with two fingers.
“You’ve got to be shitting me.”
A wicked, slightly crooked grin. “I shit you not.”
Katie crossed her arms. “I am not, I repeat, not meeting a strange guy in a bar for a hook up.”
“He’s hardly strange. Well, probably not. According to his bio—”
“Joy. No.”
Joy blinked. “What do you mean, no?”
“I’m not doing it.”
“Oh come on, Katie. All you have to do is meet him.” Joy used the tone she reserved for occasions when she wanted to be really annoying. She excelled at that tone. “Have a drink with him. Talk to him. If you don’t like him, well, don’t go upstairs with him.”
Don’t go upstairs with him? “Excellent advice.” There was perhaps no need for such sarcasm. Then again…. “I can’t believe you submitted a profile for me.”
Joy sucked an olive from a tiny plastic sword. “No one knows you better than I.”
“I thought this was an expensive service. I can’t afford a gigolo.” And she didn’t want one. Didn’t want to learn the awful truth. Didn’t want to confirm her suspicion that her inability to climax had, in fact, not been Mark at all. But had been her. She really didn’t want proof she was frigid.
“Pffft. I took care of the fees. And he’s not a gigolo. He’s a businessman.”
“Who gets women through a service? Lovely.”
“He travels a lot. No time for entanglements. He’s exactly what you need. Read his profile.” Joy pulled a thin folder from her satchel and slid it across the table. Katie slid it right back.
“Not interested.”
Joy put out a lip. “Don’t be such a fuddy-duddy. You need to get laid—”
“I do not need to get—”
“And this guy is willing to provide the service.” Joy checked her watch and made a face. “Look. He’s coming at seven, and it’s nearly seven now. Here. Put this behind your ear.” She handed Katie a white flower.
“What the hell is this?”
“Well, for heaven’s sake. How is he supposed to recognize you? You’ve never met. Put it behind your ear.”
“I will not.” It was a beautiful rosebud. Pristine and velvety smooth. She stroked it.
“If he likes what he sees, he’ll take the white rose from you and give you a red one in return.” Joy batted her lashes. “How poetic. Yours is a symbol of your purity. Your virginity.” She snorted a laugh. “His is a symbol of passion.”
“I am not a virgin.” This Katie gritted out, through clenched teeth.
Joy opened her lips to respond, to say something snarky or annoying, but was forestalled when a shadow fell over their table. Katie glanced up, a skitter of foreboding and perhaps excitement dancing through her.
She stilled.
For there he was.
The gorgeous man from the next table. Standing there. Holding one red rosebud.
He took the white flower from her nerveless fingers. “I think this is mine,” he said, his voice a smooth ribbon. It wound around her in a silken band. Tightened. He held out the red one in return. “I’m Sebastian, by the way.”
When Katie didn’t take the offering at once—she was rather poleaxed by Sebastian’s height and breadth and smile—Joy kicked her under the table.
“I-I don’t…I c-can’t….” She was babbling. She knew she was. She hoped to God he hadn’t overheard their conversation. He was intimidating enough as it was. Tall. Dark. Steamy. He was much better looking up close. And he smelled…divine. Something about a hot guy in beat up jeans and a casual button down shirt made her salivate. Her brain short circuited. And she said it. The thing she swore she’d never say. At least, not out loud. “I’ve sworn off men.”
Joy kicked her again.
“Um. Relationships. I’ve sworn off relationships.”
Sebastian’s eyes crinkled at the corners when he grinned. Also, dimples. A waterfall of them erupted on his right cheek.
She was a sucker for dimples.
“That’s okay. May I sit?”
Joy nodded like a bobblehead doll and scooted her chair to the side so Sebastian could sit next to Katie. She completely ignored Katie’s glare. Then she perched her chin on her hands and watched the two of them like this was some kind of 3D interactive dating reality show.
Sebastian took his seat and held the flower out to Katie again. With each minute movement, his cologne wafted toward her. It wasn’t the revolting boy-toy brand. It was something subtle, expensive, and spicy. It made her mouth water. “So Katie,” he said in a low rumble. “What do you say? Would you like to get to know each other a little better?”
She stared at the flower. Temptation and trepidation warred. She met his steady gaze. Noticed a slight tightness around his lips, as though he was nervous about her response. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but failed. She spoke around it, a hideous croak. “I’m not going to sleep with you.”
