Entice

by S. Layne

  “I’m not,” he says and gives me a brief nod. “But I should be done with business later, unwinding after a tough day of meetings if you change your mind and care to join me. Eight, if you like.”

  I blink, uncertain. Is he still wanting me? For a drink. That’s all this is.

  “I’m married,” I tell him, firmer this time.

  He flashes me a wink and takes a step away. “So you’ve said.” His hand rises as he turns to leave. “It was lovely meeting you, Miss Laurie Baker.”

  I should correct him that it’s Mrs. and remind him Baker is my married name. But somehow, I’m certain he already knows this and chose the incorrect prefix intentionally.

  I blink and watch him walk away. I’m stunned speechless and frozen in my high-heeled shoes as Liam Parker leaves the lobby and heads directly outside. He strides with purpose and confidence, as if he already has me and he knows it.

  As if I’ve already said yes.

  And maybe I have, because I know it’s wrong. It’s horrible.

  But there’s still a part of me that wants to be at the bar at eight o’clock and see what a conversation with him would be like.

  Because after feeling so used and abandoned…and just hurt…that part of me wants to give James a taste of his medicine.

  Make him hurt the way he’s hurt me.

  “Don’t be childish,” I murmur to myself. “That won’t help anything.”

  Remembering where I am as couples and businessmen in fancy suits and families struggling with uncooperative children bustle around me in the lobby of the Meridian, I collect my common sense, which has scattered all over the floor in Liam’s presence, and finally check in.

  Two wrongs don’t make a right.

  I know this.

  Yet even as I unpack my suitcase and prepare for my conference that will announce the release date of a new medical defibrillator my company created, I can’t get excited about what people will think.

  I can’t get those eyes out of my head.

  Sex eyes. Amused and humorous, and if I’m not mistaken, there was more than just a hint of lust or desire in them.

  And it’s been so long since James has looked at me in that way—touched me in that way—that my neglected heart craves more.

  Yearns for more.

  And I know that I haven’t seen the last of Liam Parker.

  Even though seeing him again could lead to the final nail being driven into my marriage’s coffin—a marriage I’m no longer sure even exists on anything but paper and tax forms.

  “You’re doing it, right?”

  My friend Talia’s scolding tone causes me to heave a heavy sigh and collapse onto the bed.

  As soon as I unpacked, I did what any woman does and picked up the phone to ask for advice.

  I feel foolish for even debating the merits of this idea, but Talia’s always been my sounding board. Not only that, but she’s completely taken my back with Becky. While Becky and I have been friends since our freshman year of high school, Talia joined our duo during our sophomore year of college. Almost fifteen years and I still can’t believe Becky would do this to me.

  Much less James.

  “Laurie,” Talia says, and my head drops into my hand, propped on my elbow. “This is your week, remember? The time you wanted to figure out what to do. Going to meet that man doesn’t mean anything, but I worry about you.”

  “I know,” I mutter. Because she does. Mostly because she loves me. Also because Talia has no desire to settle down, so for her, a chance meeting with a man in a hotel would leave her with no question as to where she’d be at eight o’clock. “But I’m still married.”

  “And unhappy. Use this man, and I don’t mean like that,” she stresses at my snicker. “But you could use a boost to your ego, a chance to see that men want you, and if it’s not James it could be someone else. You deserve to be wanted, Laurie.”

  “I know,” I say again and close my eyes, feeling the first sting of tears.

  I’m so tired of freaking crying all the time.

  I blink rapidly and force them away. “I’ll keep you posted,” I tell her and say goodbye.

  For the next few hours, I do everything possible to talk myself out of going downstairs, and dressing in something more provocative than the simple A-line, navy skirt, and white blouse I wore for the road trip down here.

  I debate sightseeing on Michigan Avenue, but the thought of another surprise run-in keeps me paralyzed and locked in my hotel room. If I’m going to meet with Liam Parker, I feel the need to be prepared and confident—psyched up—so I don’t come across as a buffoon in his presence again.

  I can’t do this.

  It’s wrong.

  I wonder what his hands will feel like on my skin.

  Damn it.

  I hang my head in shame, knowing without even looking at a clock that eight o’clock is drawing near.

  I’ve eaten room service, paying an exorbitant amount of money on a cheeseburger that I could have eaten in one of the many restaurants outside or downstairs. But I didn’t leave for the same reason I didn’t go shopping.

  I’m terrified.

  My heart beats at a rapid pace and I stare at the pale-skinned woman with the flushed cheeks in the bathroom mirror.

  It’s horrible lighting, allowing me to see every flaw on my skin. The faint scars around my chin from teenage acne. The fine lines that crinkle around the top edges of my lips and the outer rims of my eyes.

  I’m getting old.

  If I leave James, I will be divorced before thirty.

  So depressing.

  And I’m so tired of being depressed. The last month has ruined not only my trust in James and my friendship with Becky—two people I’ve loved for years—but it’s destroyed my confidence and my self-esteem.

  Because if I was giving James everything he needed, and was everything he wanted, he would have never looked the other way. Would he?

  But downstairs…a man is waiting.

  A man who, in a matter of moments, had my knees weakening and my pulse fluttering in a way I had yet to experience.

  Something I want to pursue—for ego-boosting’s sake alone.

  I need it.

  And damn it, I’ve earned it.

  My earlier confidence, my earlier feelings of entitlement, have fully dissipated by the time my legs carry me out of the elevator on wobbling high-heeled nude-colored leather pumps. My fingers fumble with the hem of my teal satin blouse and then nervously brush down the sides of my fitted gray skirt.

  I shouldn’t be doing this.

  I pause my steps, my fingers wringing together and then moving to clasp my clutch bag, and look over my shoulder as the elevator doors shut behind me.

  I should press the button. Re-open the doors, head back to my room, and order a bottle of wine. Soak in the large tub I upgraded the room for so I can relax this week.

  I should be thinking of the decisions that wait for me back in Denton.

  “You came.”

  My head snaps back to the masculine voice. A tinge of an accent I can’t place, and it’s so barely there in his low, confident drawl that I wonder if I almost imagined it.

  Yet I can’t ask him, because once again Liam Parker has left me unable to speak.

  My brain goes foggy as I take him in, standing only a few feet in front of me. His hands are pressed gently into his dress pants pockets, and he doesn’t seem nervous at all.

  He looks as if he owns the world and expects everyone to rotate on an axis around him.

  Patrons of the hotel seem to know this because I watch, silently and stupidly, as they weave around him, allowing him more space than anyone else.

  I find myself pulled to the man in front of me. His eyes are so blue they can’t possibly be real, yet I know without knowing him that there’s no way he has the need to fake anything.

  Something pulses in the air between us and my shoulders pull back.

  And then my feet follow.

  He w
atches with an unyielding gaze, his eyes fixed on mine as if he could stop me from moving with a look.

  He’s probably right, because I only take the one small step.

  “I shouldn’t,” I finally tell him when I find my voice. I shake my head once for effect.

  Liam holds out a hand, his palm up. “It’s just a drink, Laurie.”

  And damn if that voice, the deep, almost rumbling timbre, immediately screams master manipulator, yet also calls to the girl in me who just wants to be wanted.

  Logic melts away and somehow my hand is in his palm, melting into his warm and confident grasp as he pulls me to him.

  His hand falls and finds its home at the base of my lower back. His fingers spread wide, possessively, and I can feel every place where he touches me.

  The slightly rough fabric of his suit scrapes against the back of my arms when he pushes us forward and his fingertips flex against my back. I can feel his touch through my thin blouse as if he’s branding me.

  I blush, amazed at how a stranger can so confidently but silently show his desire for me.

  “Just one,” I whisper, and he doesn’t say anything.

  He nods.

  His confidence has muddled my ability to think straight. Yet with his hand on my back, his fingers spreading wider until I can feel his pinkie graze past my blouse to the top of my skirt…close…so close to the upper curve of my ass, I don’t care.

  Goose bumps prickle on the backs of my thighs, spreading heat down to the backs of my knees and beyond.

  It only takes that simple movement of his finger, and I can feel arousal blossoming inside me.

  My sex is pulsing by the time he leads me to a table at the hotel bar and restaurant.

  The lighting is dark, seductive, able to hide secrets in plain view, but I don’t stop myself when he simply glides me into a chair and takes the one next to me.

  He’s so close that I inhale his cologne—or a scent that might just be him.

  It reeks of power and confidence.

  Sin in a suit with a delicious aroma swirling in between us.

  I fidget, brushing my chestnut-colored hair behind my ear, and clear my throat.

  Somehow, when the waiter arrives, I’m able to pull my gaze from Liam and focus on the young man with a friendly smile.

  “What can I get for you?” he asks, his pen held steadily over the pad of paper in his hand.

  Next to me, I feel Liam’s gaze and I force myself to take a breath. I’ve never felt this before…a heat, a desperate need flooding my body that, even though my head screams to ignore it and run away as fast as possible, my body screams to dive in and take what I can.

  “Whiskey.” I clear my throat. It sounds gravelly and hoarse. Turned on. I don’t recognize myself. “Double.”

  “The same.”

  My body tenses and my back straightens. I watch the waiter slide two napkins in front of us before he leaves quietly.

  It’s then my gaze slides to Liam’s. Which is dangerous. Meeting him eye-to-eye does nothing to help my nerves. They pulse just beneath my skin, heating me from the inside out.

  “I didn’t take you for a whiskey drinker.” His arm slides behind me, resting on my back. I feel his thumb graze down the exposed skin on my upper arm.

  More goose bumps flare on my skin—and by his smirk, he notices.

  “I’m not,” I blurt, shaking my head. My hands reach out and I take the napkin in front of me, pulling it closer. “I don’t do this.”

  “I gathered,” he says.

  The waiter returns with our drinks and sets them down with only a nod, somehow sensing the awkward silence permeating the air.

  I bring the glass to my lips, and for possibly the first time in my life, love the burn that hits my tongue and warms my stomach as it slides down my throat. Ice clinks against my teeth and I have to pull the glass away before I drain it all.

  “I make you nervous.”

  I wipe perspiration off the glass and force my shoulders to relax.

  “Yes,” I say, turning to him, unwilling to hide the fear making my heart race. It’s fighting for first place with my nerves.

  His thumb brushes my skin. “I don’t mean to. Or want to.”

  “I think you like it.” I have no idea where this bravado is coming from, but I grin and take another sip of my whiskey. “What brings you to Chicago?”

  Liam turns in his chair, moves to face me, and it brings us closer together. Yet with his arm around my back, I can’t move away.

  “I’m not big on small talk,” he says. I watch his other hand, wrapped around his glass, caress the sides. Much like his thumb is doing to my arm.

  I pull my lip into my teeth and bite down on the corner.

  “Then what is it you want?” I ask. My bravery increases with each sip of alcohol.

  He blinks, looks down at his glass, and brings it to his lips.

  He’s a master of anticipation, because I catch myself holding my breath, waiting for his answer.

  When he sets the glass down, he turns to me and smirks. It’s not playful and it doesn’t reach his eyes.

  It’s so telling, I want to hide from it. So intense I want to feel just a small piece of his confidence.

  “You.”

  My breath releases. It’s one word but it pours over me like hot lava, flooding my blood and making me squirm in my chair.

  It feels as if it’s been forever since someone wanted me, and my insecurities crash down on me. Did James anymore?

  I try to push them aside and fail. Instead, I reach for my liquid courage in front of me.

  “You said a drink.”

  Liam leans forward until I can feel his breath. He doesn’t seem to care that we’re in a place where people can see us. Yet social graces have me pulling back until his hand on the back of my shoulder prevents me from moving away.

  “You’re stunning,” he says simply. “I felt it the moment you crashed into me. And I’m not one who simply walks away from a woman as beautiful as you.”

  “A one-night stand?” My throat threatens to close over the question. Because that’s all this can be, and guilt begins slithering through me that I’m even considering it.

  That I’m even drawn to it.

  Before he can answer, I remind him—or maybe it’s me I’m reminding. “I’m married.”

  “I know.” He looks down at my hand. “I also don’t see a ring, so I assume that marriage isn’t a happily ever after one.”

  I glance away so he can’t see my grimace. I always thought we were.

  My finger is bare for the first time in six years—since we were first engaged right after college graduation. But I couldn’t wear them tonight.

  Betrayal screamed at me through the diamond’s reflection when I went to leave the room. I removed my bands, setting them on top of the dresser and dashing through the door to my hotel room before I could run back inside, put the rings back on, and head back to Denton, begging James to make everything okay.

  But I won’t do that.

  Because there’s a fear in me that I haven’t yet admitted.

  Were we ever meant to be? Or did we get married because it’s what was expected? I always thought it was the former.

  James’s indiscretion has me questioning everything I’ve believed since a boy with dark brown eyes pierced my soul when we were just kids.

  “No,” I say softly. My thumb rubs the bare spot on my finger and I flinch at the feeling. “I don’t wear my ring.”

  I ignore the comment about my marriage, however. If he wants a one-night stand, if I’m even considering it, he doesn’t get my secrets and my life.

  His lips tilt into a smile as he looks at my hand before he drags his eyes to mine.

  Another smile that doesn’t meet his eyes.

  Taking the last swallow of my whiskey, I notice Liam’s is still mostly full.

  “So that’s what you want, then: a one-night stand.”

  “I prefer ‘a night of pleasure,’ but
yes, if you want to call it that.”

  The word pleasure makes my stomach flip. I find myself squirming in my chair because I know I’m already aroused. I have been since the moment he first touched me. Perhaps because it’s forbidden, because he’s a stranger.

  Perhaps it’s because his bright blue eyes are staring into mine, like he wants to devour me.

  Completely consume me.

  I swallow my fears and my insecurities, even knowing I’m about to choose something that could destroy me forever.

  If not me—my marriage.

  Yet I have to know. I have to know if I’m desirable to anyone.

  James has ruined that for me. Made me question everything.

  And I want something that’s mine. Something I can reach out and grab hold of, even if it is just for one night. A few hours.

  His hand drops from my shoulder and moves to my thigh, and immediately I feel my panties go wet.

  It takes a touch—one simple touch with a firm grasp of his skin on mine—and I’m consumed.

  My head swirls.

  I’m falling down a rabbit hole and will crash-land into a fantasy world that will leave me spinning and twisting and wanting to claw my way out with a desperation I can only imagine.

  Yet right now, I only want to fall.

  My hand drops to my thigh and covers his hand. With a quick swallow and inhaled breath, I grasp for confidence. I push his hand forward, up under the edges of my skirt that dances along the line of decency.

  His Adam’s apple dips and there’s a glimmer in his eyes as his hand moves higher on its own accord.

  “One night,” I whisper and lean into him. My breath skates across the rim of his ear. “Just once.”

  His low laugh begins deep in his chest. It vibrates against my breasts, which are brushing against his suit.

  I tremble, no longer trying to maintain propriety.

  My acquiescence makes him smile. It’s faint, but sparks of victory.

  Challenge conquered.

  I didn’t realize I was such easy prey until this moment.

  “Laurie,” he whispers, and I give up fighting the urge to shiver when my name rolls of his tongue. His faint accent is erotic. Mysterious.

  I lean forward when his hand leaves my shoulder and brushes against my cheek.