Calendar Boy

by HELEN HARDT

“Listen, Stacy, I don’t know what Dino told you—”

  “He didn’t tell me anything. He didn’t have to tell me anything. I just got a clue, that’s all. I’m a smart girl. You don’t have to draw me a picture.”

  “So he didn’t tell you about—”

  “Hello? Are you listening? He didn’t tell me anything. He told Ronnie, and I overheard it. Now, get out. I’m not anyone’s sugar mama.”

  Fuck. “God, Stace. I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

  “So am I.” She lay back down. “No, I’m not. I’m glad I know. I’m glad I know who you really are. What kind of man you really are. To think, I almost…”

  “Almost what?”

  “Never mind. Get out, Michael.”

  “Stace. Please. Can’t we talk about this?”

  “Talk about what? Are you going to deny what Dino said.”

  “Dino has a big mouth.”

  “I’m thankful he does.”

  “Yeah. Well, he’ll hear from me. But Stace, I…” Words hung on his tongue, caught between mind and voice. He wasn’t quite sure how to vocalize them.

  “Good bye, Michael.”

  “What about our day together? Hell, what about our night together?”

  “It was a fun romp. Now, it’s over. Ciao.”

  “Can’t we—”

  She sat up again and reached for the phone. “No, we can’t. Now leave, or I’ll have you removed.”

  Michael exhaled. He knew when he’d been beaten. He just never expected to take anything this hard. Where were these feelings coming from?

  He turned, walked toward the door, and opened it. He didn’t look back.

  That it took so much effort not to surprised him.

  * * *

  “Thanks a lot, pal.”

  Dino took a swig of his beer. “Hey, Ronnie and I tried to find you. I managed to do some damage control with her, but—”

  “But nothing. Why didn’t either of you go after Stacy?”

  “Why would we? I mean, it’s not like—”

  “Damn it, Dino, I thought we were friends.”

  “Hell, Mike, you never said it was a secret.”

  “You really do have a brain the size of a pea, don’t you?” Michael shook his head. “Does it take a genius to know you don’t go telling a woman’s friend what your friend has in mind for her friend?”

  “Well, get a load of that. You actually have feelings for the woman.”

  “You’re full of it. I loved a woman once. It’s not worth the heartache.”

  “You can’t always control your feelings, Michael. Even a pea brain like me knows that. Maybe you didn’t mean to develop feelings for Stacy, but you did all the same.”

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  “If you didn’t have feelings, you wouldn’t be so upset about this.”

  He shook his head. “Yes, I have feelings. Feelings of the loss of twenty-four hours of this conference. Did it ever occur to you that maybe I don’t want to start the whole process over? I invested a lot of time here. Maybe I found the woman I wanted, and now you fucked it up.”

  “There’re a million women just as hot with just as much money who’d be glad to…”

  Michael stopped listening. Yeah, he knew the drill. He’d gone through it in his own mind a thousand times since he’d left Stacy lying in bed, since he’d packed up his belongings in the hallway, since he’d picked up the blue glass from the broken vodka bottle. Yup, a million women. The thought should appease him.

  It didn’t, which mystified him.

  “I told Ronnie. She understood. Said she’d talk to Stacy.”

  Dino’s words sliced through the fog in Michael’s brain. “Told Ronnie what?”

  “About Beth. She nearly cried. She—”

  “For God’s sake!” Michael resisted the urge to pull his own hair out. “What the fuck did I ever do to you?”

  “I was trying to control the damage! Fuck. I thought you’d appreciate—”

  “Appreciate you spilling my life story to a complete stranger? Jesus Christ, Dino.”

  Michael seethed. Anger boiled inside him. Anger at Dino. Anger at Stacy for not listening to him. Anger at Beth for abandoning him all those years ago…

  “I have to get out of here,” he said, his blood boiling. “I need a drink. Or a smoke. Or something. God damn it! Anything!” His emotions rocked, threatened to spill into something unnameable. Something he couldn’t fathom. His father. His asshole father….

  He couldn’t stay here. Couldn’t go to Stacy for the comfort he craved in her arms.

  Where to go?

  Where?

  He slammed the door.

  * * *

  Stacy pasted a smile on her face as she signed another book. These were her fans, the people who supported her, fed her, clothed her. She adored every one of them, and by God, she’d act her part today if it killed her. None of them would know her heart had been shattered into a billion tiny fragments.

  “Thank you so much,” the gushing woman said, taking her book. “I just love your work. Starr Shannon is one of my favorite characters.”

  “Thank you,” Stacy said. “It means so much to a writer when a person enjoys her work.”

  “Could I ask you a question?”

  Stacy nodded. “Of course.”

  “Have you ever considered making Starr a cougar?”

  “A cougar?”

  “Yeah, you know, give her a lover who’s significantly younger? Like seven years or more?”

  A cougar? Seven years or more? Michael was thirty-six to her forty-five. Did that make her—Stacy—a cougar?

  Of course not, because they weren’t in a relationship. They’d never been in a relationship. A one-night fuck did not a cougar make.

  “I just always thought of Starr as the perfect cougar,” the fan went on. “She’s so sure of herself and so vibrant. I think a younger man would find her extremely sexy, and think of all she could teach him in the bedroom!”

  Stacy let out a high-pitched laugh. Ha! A cougar teaching her younger man. A cub, isn’t that what the younger lover was called? Heck, she hadn’t taught Michael a thing. He’d taught her. Given her her first orgasm, no less.

  But Starr… Starr could be a worthy instructor.

  “Thank you”—she glanced at the woman’s name tag—“Mary. I think that’s a great idea. Starr would make a wonderful cougar.”

  “I’m so glad you think so!”

  “In fact, when I write her cougar story, I’ll dedicate it to you, how about that?”

  “Oh my!” Mary nearly jumped out of her jeans. “That would be amazing!”

  “Do you have a card?”

  “No. I’m not an author, just a reader. I love these conferences.”

  “Here then.” Stacy handed Mary one of her business cards. “Write down your full name and your email address, and I’ll be in touch.”

  Mary hastily jotted down her information and handed the card back to Stacy.

  “Thanks, Mary.” She gestured to the freebies on her table. “Don’t forget to take some book marks and other goodies, okay? Thanks so much for stopping by.”

  “Not a problem,” Mary gushed. “Not a problem at all!”

  As Mary left the table, her hands full of Stacy’s bookmarks, Stacy took a long drink from her bottle of water. She checked her watch. One more hour of book signing. One more hour. Her bags were packed and waiting at the front desk. Once the book signing was over, she was off to the airport to catch the next flight home on standby. She wasn’t waiting until tomorrow.

  She just couldn’t.

  She took another sip of water and swiped her hand across her brow. Damn, it was hot in here! It wouldn’t hurt to get up for a few minutes. Take a quick walk to see if she could cool off. If nothing else, she could splash some cool water on her face in the restroom.

  She stood and hurried away before anyone else came to her table. Once in the bathroom, she turned on the faucet and filled her palms with the co
ol liquid. She splashed it on her face and then regarded her reflection. Her eyes were still puffy from all the crying last night.

  Well, nothing could be done about that. The cool water would help, at least.

  She splashed her face again and then once more still before turning off the faucet and drying her skin gently with a paper towel.

  Eyes were still a bit swollen, but at least her cheeks were rosy and healthy looking. She quickly took a lipstick out of her handbag and applied it.

  Not too bad, she thought, and headed back to the book signing.

  Just as she was about to turn the corner to head into the ballroom where the signing was held, someone gripped her shoulder.

  She jumped and soon found herself backed against the wall.

  “It’s just me, Stace.”

  That voice. That voice that had moaned her name.

  “We need to talk, baby.”

  Chapter Eight

  “We have nothing to talk about. I’m in the middle of a book signing.” Stacy started forward, but Michael held her, wouldn’t let her go.

  “You have to listen to me. I—“

  Stacy seethed, gathered all her strength, and pushed against his chest as hard as she could. “The only thing I have to do is get back to my signing!”

  Michael didn’t budge. Geez, he really was one solid mass of muscle.

  “Have you talked to Ronnie?”

  What the hell was he talking about? “Ronnie? I haven’t seen her since last night. What does she have to do with anything?”

  “Thank God.” Michael’s face softened a bit. His hazel eyes scorched her skin. “You look beautiful.”

  Now she knew he was full of it. She’d just seen her puffy brown eyes in the bathroom mirror. “Thanks. I’d like to think you mean that, but you’re a known liar.”

  “I never lied to you.”

  “Right.” She scoffed. “Let’s just call it omission then. You neglected to tell me you were looking for a sugar mama.”

  “Look, I know you overheard Ronnie and Dino talking, but Dino didn’t know what he was talking about. I swear it.”

  “Let me go, damn it!”

  “No! Not until you listen to me!”

  “I could listen all day, Michael, but I’ll never believe a word you say.”

  “Oh?” His eyes burned, his nostrils flared. Ruddiness colored his chiseled olive cheeks.“Then maybe you’ll believe this!”

  His lips came down on hers with the force of a hurricane. Strong hands clamped her cheeks.

  Stacy squirmed, pressed her lips together, tried, tried so hard…but it was too much. His mouth, though uninvited, was magic on hers. His kiss was hard, raw, and unapologetic, and it ignited fire in her veins. He hadn’t shaved, and his rough stubble burned the soft skin of her cheeks. And that burning was good, so good. It added to the carnal intensity of their mouths mashing together. They ate at each other as though they’d been hungry for weeks. He plunged his fists into her hair, growled into her mouth.

  They kissed and kissed, until Michael pulled away and drew a ragged breath. “Come with me.”

  He grabbed Stacy’s hand and whisked her down the hallway to a secluded alcove.

  “Michael, the booksign—”

  “Fuck the book signing,” he said, his voice a primitive snarl. He lifted her skirt and ripped off her lacy thong with his bare hands.

  “Michael!”

  “I need you, Stace. And by God, I’m going to have you. Now.”

  Stacy shuddered. She should run. Run screaming. But something in his voice, in his eyes, held her still. He wouldn’t hurt her, she knew. Need burst to life in her core and rushed through her body. Juice trickled from her pussy.

  Michael’s fingers sought her slit. “God, you’re wet. I knew you’d be wet for me.”

  Stacy closed her eyes and inhaled. If he didn’t fuck her soon, she was sure she’d die an untimely death right here in the hotel hallway. The clink of his belt buckle and zing of his zipper buzzed in her ears. Then, the rip of the condom packet. He pushed her against the wall, lifted her, and set her down upon his cock.

  Her body arched and her thighs opened. How glorious he felt inside her! She wrapped her thighs around his waist, hugged herself to him. She dug her nails into his shoulders and rocked upward, eagerly meeting every one of his thrusts.

  “God, yeah, baby, that’s it. Let me fuck you.”

  She leaned down and bit into the corded muscle of his neck. A salty tang danced across her tongue. She bit him again, wanting to mark him. To mark Michael Moretti as the property of Stacy Oppenheimer. She bit once more, harder still, and he rocketed into her with a growling gasp. A scraping at her neck made her wince. He was biting her, marking her too. Fuck, it was sexy.

  Perspiration from their faces comingled, drizzling down their cheeks and necks. Stacy’s breath came rapidly, her pulse racing, as she rode him with abandon. Tingles shot through her, and within moments, the familiar sparks jolted through her clit. God, she was coming, and oh, it was a good one!

  “Michael!” Her voice sounded as though it were outside her body. “I’m coming!”

  “Yeah, baby, come for me,” he huffed.

  She shot upward, coming down upon his cock just as she burst.

  “Aaauugh!” He thrust harder. “God, I’m coming too!”

  They rocked together, sharing the orgasm, until the electricity between them was so thick Stacy swore it was almost visible. Silvery threads joining them, joining their souls.

  When the sparks settled, Stacy’s head was on the moist hardness of Michael’s shoulder. She raised it, looked around. Thank God the coast was clear. She eased herself downward, unclamping her legs from around Michael’s hips. Her legs wobbled a little when her feet hit the ground, but she steadied herself and lowered her skirt. Her underwear was a lost cause.

  She didn’t look in his eyes. She couldn’t. She feared what she might see and what he might see in hers. This wasn’t just sex to her anymore, but it could never be what she wanted. He didn’t want her. He wanted only a caretaker, a provider.

  She said nothing as she pushed him away from her body.

  “Stace?”

  She looked at her watch. “I missed the end of the book signing.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, you’re not. But it doesn’t matter. I’m leaving.”

  “What about us?”

  “There is no us, Michael. There never was.”

  “But we just—”

  “We just fucked, Michael.” Stacy adjusted her skirt once more. “You’re a fabulous fuck. I’ll give you that. Whoever you end up with won’t have any complaints.”

  She walked away.

  He didn’t follow her, and her disappointment that he didn’t irked her. She’d been one last fuck to him. Silently, she berated herself for giving herself to him one last time. She’d been weak, but no longer.

  After a quick trip to the restroom to assess her appearance, she returned to the ballroom, gathered her belongings from the book signing, and strode straight to the hotel lobby where her luggage awaited her.

  As she walked to the taxi line, Veronica called her name.

  “Wait, Stacy!” The younger woman ran toward her. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

  “Yes, I am. It was great meeting you, Ronnie. Be sure to send me your work to critique. I’ll be happy to help.”

  Veronica paused to catch her breath. “I’ve got to start working out.”

  “You look great.”

  “Yeah, but I’m in lousy shape. Don’t leave yet. I need to talk to you.”

  “What is it? I only have a few minutes. There’s a flight I want to catch on standby.”

  “I need to talk to you about Michael.”

  “Look, Ronnie, I don’t blame you for what happened. Or Dino. In fact, I’m glad I found out.”

  “I know, Stacy. I know you don’t blame us. Though I feel awful about it.”

  “Don’t.”

  “It’s
just, Dino told me some more stuff about Michael. Stuff you should probably know.”

  “I know all about Michael Moretti that I need to know. He used me. Case closed.”

  “Stacy, please listen. He hasn’t had an easy life.”

  “Who has?” Stacy shook her head. “I’ve really got to go, Ronnie. I don’t want to miss this plane.” She gave Veronica a quick hug. “Keep in touch.”

  Before Veronica could say anymore, Stacy lugged her suitcase outside and entered a waiting cab. Veronica rushed out the door as the cabbie drove off.

  Home.

  Home in her own bed would be the perfect spot for one last cry over Michael Moretti. Then she’d move on.

  Chapter Nine

  Freaking tears again.

  Stacy sniffed. She’d been home for three weeks, and still she was crying rivers over Michael Moretti. How had this happened? Her work lay unfinished on the computer. Luckily, she didn’t have any pressing deadlines to worry about, but normally, she prided herself on writing at least one thousand words every day, usually much more. She hadn’t written more than a couple of hundred since she got home.

  Time to suck it up, Oppenheimer.

  She could get something out of this, use her experience for her next installment in the Starr Shannon urban fantasy series. The beauty of urban fantasy was that she didn’t need a happy ending every time, and Starr could have a new love interest for each book. Stacy would take Mary’s advice and make Starr a cougar this time, give her a younger lover. Starr was thirty-nine, so her lover could be thirty or younger. Twenty-nine, Stacy thought, was a good age for her hero. Her sex with Michael could serve as the basis for the sex scenes. Stacy smiled to herself. This time she wouldn’t have to guess what an orgasm felt like.

  Now, some research on cougar and cub relationships. She sat at her computer and starting typing into her search engine. Over a million hits! Well, starting at the beginning would work well, she guessed. She scanned the pages…perfect! The Cougar Club offered advice and, better yet, a chatroom! What better place to research than with real live cougars?

  And she could stay anonymous. She registered with a screen name, StacyStarr, and logged in.