by Whitley Cox
All he did was nod, and hope that his small smile and eyes conveyed his understanding and sympathy. She had no reason to be wary of him or his reaction to her honesty, to her plight. He’d been there himself and knew how hard a divorce could be on everyone involved—especially the kids. He took a leap of faith and rested his hand on her arm. “Been through a messy divorce myself. I have a son, and I totally get where you’re coming from right now. It’s hard on the kids. It’s hard on everyone.”
If she thought that her declaration was going to turn him off, she couldn’t be further from wrong. If anything, her honesty, her openness just made her more intriguing. She had wounds and scars just like him. She was human.
Heat flared in her eyes, and she shifted closer to him and brought her voice down. “I have a room at the hotel next door,” she said, the first sign of real, genuine nervousness entering her eyes. Her voice quavered slightly, and her throat bobbed in trepidation. “Would you … like to join me there?”
Eva hadn’t planned on inviting anybody up to her hotel room. She simply wanted a night away to herself. A night alone. A night to not have a furnace of a child in nothing but Marvel underpants crawling into bed beside her at two in the morning, and then another one crawling into her bed an hour later.
She wanted one night in a bed all by herself where she didn’t have to share the pillows, the duvet or the mattress. She wanted one night to not be mom, mama or mommy and instead just be Eva Fletcher—no, wait, scratch that, Eva Marchand. No way was she hanging on to that asshole’s last name, even if it was still attached to her sons. She would spend the rest of her life making sure her sons turned out nothing like their father.
Nothing.
Kellen and Lucas Fletcher would be nothing but respectful, kind and sensitive men who treated women like equals and didn’t emotionally or psychologically abuse or manipulate them. Kellen and Lucas would grow up to be good men.
But for one night she wanted her sister, Celeste, to be with those future good men. She didn’t want to have to worry about anybody’s needs, worries or wants but her own.
For. Just. One. Night.
From the moment she met up with the bachelorette party in the party room of the hotel, she began to plot her exit. Began to plot her escape to the luxury of her terrycloth robe and room service.
The party had been fun at first, with the rep from Curiously Kinky at-home romance parties doing sex toy demos and playing “guess that lube flavor,” but after a while, once the champagne and Jell-O shots had started to get passed around, all the women began to get annoying. They went from respectable women in their thirties and forties, mothers, wives and entrepreneurs, to squealing sorority divas. Or woo girls.
No thanks.
She needed to ditch the squealy, giggly bachelorette party ASAP.
But the best-laid plans somehow had a way of changing—and not always for the worse. Now she didn’t want to be in her room alone. Not so alone, at least.
This Scott guy was hot. Like really hot. Tall, dark and drop-dead sexy. That beard—yum. Thick, dark and short. Not to mention the soulful dark brown eyes, long lashes and a slightly crooked nose that somehow made him all the more handsome. Because it meant he wasn’t perfect. Eva was nowhere near perfect, so the last thing she needed was to be with a man who was. Not that this would be anything more than one night, but still, it was nice to know the man had flaws. Imperfections. That made him the perfect companion to chase away the post-divorce blues. To end her dry spell and give her vibrator a much-needed break.
“Eva … ” he breathed out slowly, having taken a moment to simply stare at her, which only made her panties grow increasingly damp. “I would love to. But I don’t want to take advantage—”
“Oh, you wouldn’t be. If anybody’s going to be taking advantage of anybody tonight, it would be me taking advantage of you. I will be using you.”
His expressive eyes went wide. His brows flew up his forehead. “Is that so?”
She bit her lip and nodded. “It is. Give me fifteen minutes to go freshen up, and then meet me next door in room 301.” She bobbed her eyebrows. “There’s a liquor store across the street … maybe some wine?”
His eager, boyish grin and nod made her laugh. She liked this guy. He was sexy, funny and seemed kind. A breath of fresh air. And after the claustrophobia and suffocation she’d experienced in the last few years of her marriage, she was in desperate need of some fresh air.
She’d also made herself a promise that she would stop forsaking herself for a man. Todd had all but destroyed her confidence and self-esteem, and it had taken a lot of therapy and support from her sister and parents to begin to rebuild that confidence.
For the first time in her life, she was going to take. And what she wanted was to take Scott up to her hotel room and have her way with him.
“You’re sure?” he asked, his honest eyes turning tender as he squeezed her arm, a small wrinkle of concern appearing between his brows. “I do want to spend more time with you, but I kind of thought we could just go grab pizza.”
Ohhh, pizza.
She liked the sound of that.
“Twenty minutes. Go grab pizza too. Wine and pizza.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled. “I like you, Eva. You say exactly what you want. No guessing games. Okay, then. I’ll meet you upstairs, room 301, in twenty minutes, and I’ll bring pizza and wine.”
“Zinfandel,” she stated.
His smile turned devilish. “Zinfandel. Your wish is my command.” Her nipples peaked to painful points beneath her silk blouse.
Before she could jump his bones right there in the club, she stood. “All right then.” She teetered slightly on the strappy heels she’d chosen to wear out. They killed her feet, but they made her ass look amazing. Sometimes you had to make sacrifices in the name of self-esteem—of which she was severely depleted these past few years. As a mom of two very busy boys, she wore flats or sneakers all day long. “I’m going to go take my leave of the bachelorette party. Do you need to say goodbye to your companions?”
He twisted his head around to glance toward the back of the bar, where a group of men was chanting “chug, chug, chug, chug.” He made a face of disgust. “Nope.”
Eva laughed. “Okay, then. Twenty minutes?”
“Twenty minutes.” He stood as well, leaned in and pecked her on the cheek. “Do I need to grab condoms?” he asked, his mouth next to her ear, the warm buzz of his words making a tingle sprint down through the center of her body, landing directly between her legs.
Condoms. Right!
She wasn’t going to need those for her solo evening. But now that she wasn’t going to be solo anymore, perhaps she needed some precautions.
Swallowing, still totally surprised with herself and the fact that she’d just propositioned a total stranger for sex, she nodded. “Uh, yeah. Probably a good idea.”
He kissed her cheek again. “Okay, then, pizza, zinfandel and condoms. See you in thirty.” Then he left the bar, his swagger carefree, almost lazy, and so damn cocky she found herself smiling, then laughing as she watched him walk away. Nerves, but not the bad kind, made the hair on her arms lift, and the butterflies of anticipation began to wildly beat their wings in her belly.
Careful not to roll an ankle, she finished her short, stocky tumbler of tequila, then headed over to the bachelorette party with a new spring in her step. Eva was ready to get her groove back, and Scott was exactly what the doctor ordered to help her do that.
2
The wind and sideways rain hammered the windows of her hotel suite as Eva washed her hands in the bathroom, staring at the woman in the mirror in front of her. She barely recognized herself.
Gone were the dark bags beneath her eyes—and not just because she was great at applying her own makeup—and her cheeks had filled out again since she started eating full meals after the divorce had been finalized. Once she was finally granted her freedom.
She’d withered away to barely one hu
ndred pounds by the time she worked up the courage to file for separation.
God, that had been a terrifying moment in her life. Absolutely terrifying.
She and Todd had been together for nearly ten years. They had two children together, an enormous home in a swanky part of town, were members of a country club. Their kids went to a charter school. From the outside looking in, their life was idyllic.
But from the inside looking out, Eva felt like she was in prison.
Todd had been the main breadwinner in their family. Everything was in his name. He took care of the finances. And as things in their marriage began to turn south over the years, he made sure to throw all of that in her face time and time again. He also threatened to take the boys from her, claiming that she’d never see them again if she ever tried to leave him.
Which was why it had taken her nearly three years to work up the courage to finally do it. She’d wasted away to practically a skeleton until that time, became a mouse, a recluse, ashamed of what their friends would say to her about how her appearance had changed. But she was too emotionally sick to eat. The way Todd belittled her, patronized her, bullied her, it made her ill. She had no appetite. Not when her guts were twisted in such tight knots of fear. Fear of his wrath, his emotional and psychological torment. She worried herself to near death.
He never beat her, but the scars from his words, from his manipulation would most likely be everlasting.
A little over a year ago, shortly before the kids’ spring break, which also encompassed the Easter long weekend, she packed up her and the kids while Todd was away for business and moved in with her sister, Celeste, and Celeste’s daughter, Sabrina. Then she filed a restraining order against her husband and also served him with separation papers.
Todd had been livid.
Restraining order be damned, when he received the separation papers he’d driven over to Celeste’s house and banged on the door, hollering and demanding Eva give him his children. Celeste and a few of the neighbors called the cops, and Todd had been escorted out of the neighborhood by three police cars.
And that’s when things in Eva’s life really turned ugly.
The year waiting for her divorce to be finalized had been pure torture.
She only let the kids see their father because the court ordered her to, even though Kellen and Lucas begged not to go with him when he came to pick them up. They said he ignored him when he had them. But whenever she brought it up to Todd, he said that if he didn’t get his kids, he’d take them from her and she’d never see them again. She fretted herself to the point of needing hospitalization, she’d lost so much weight. The assurances of the court were a cold comfort when her kids were out of her care.
That year had been absolute anguish. Besides threatening to take their children away from her, Todd dragged her through the mud until it was in her ears, eyes and up her nose. He used her weight loss against her, painting her as mentally unstable and a drunk. That the reason she didn’t eat was because she drank all her calories. But her lawyer, Richelle LaRue, had been outstanding and never let Todd get away with a damn thing.
Eva now had full custody of Kellen and Luke, with the boys spending the majority of their time with her—not that Todd really had anything to do with them when he was around—and Todd paying not only alimony but child support as well.
With her divorce settlement, she was able to buy a small, modest house in a nice part of town, one that had a fully finished basement where she planned to set up her hair and aesthetics studio.
Before all the separation and divorce chaos, she’d worked two days a week at a salon near the boys’ school, mostly taking care of the updos for wealthy older women who came in once a week to get their hair done.
But now, she planned to build herself a mini empire. The space in the basement was perfect. Lots of natural light, a sink, bathroom, plenty of space for not only a stylist’s chair, hair dryer and waxing table, but also the perfect place where she could set up her foot spa for pedicures.
She planned to open Eva’s Hair and Esthetics within a couple of weeks of moving into the new house. But she needed to get a handle on advertising. Word-of-mouth was only so useful. She needed to get her business onto social media, flyers, bus benches, billboards. She needed it all.
She blotted at her face with a piece of tissue and let out a shaky breath. “You can do this,” she whispered. “You can do this.”
A knock on the door made her jump nearly clear out of her skin.
You can’t do this.
What had she been thinking? Inviting a total stranger up to her hotel room for sex.
She’d been with all of four men in her whole life. The guy who took her virginity the summer she turned seventeen; Gary, her boyfriend senior year of high school; Rick, her boyfriend after Gary moved to Boston for college; and then finally Todd. And she and Todd hadn’t had sex in almost five years.
Now she planned to break that dry spell with who?
A seriously gorgeous man with a super sexy crooked nose and beard you want to rub all over your—
“Eva?”
Shit! Right. He was still standing on the other side of the hotel door.
She was busy daydreaming her nightmare of the past, and Scott, one of the most handsome men she’d met in a very long time, was patiently waiting for her to welcome him inside.
She blew out a breath, took one last look at herself in the vanity mirror and then went to open the door.
And of course, he was leaning against the doorjamb all casual-like, somehow balancing a wine bottle, coat and pizza box, all while hooking his thumb in his belt loop, which meant that his black button-down shirt pulled tight across his chest, showing off well-defined muscles and a breadth that took her own breath away.
She’d been aware of his height and size back at the bar, but there she’d been fueled by pheromones, tequila and confidence. Now, standing there in front of him, she felt like the mouse she’d fought so hard to no longer be.
“Thought you might have fallen asleep,” he said lazily, hitting her with the full megawatt smile, enhanced by a single dimple on his left side, nice lips, that sexy, slightly crooked nose, and of course that beard. Oh lord, the beard.
She swallowed and pushed the door open more, allowing him to enter. “No, not asleep, just, uh … ” She didn’t bother finishing that sentence because the scent of pizza made every thought in her brain disappear.
“I wasn’t sure what to get,” he said, wandering into the hotel room and over to the table and chairs next to the window. “Whether you’re a traditionalist, like a margherita pizza girl, or you like to walk on the wild side, like smoked salmon, capers and cream cheese.”
Eva must have made a face because he started to laugh. “Not a fan of the wild side?”
She shook her head. “Not on my pizza. I’m all for some chicken and artichokes, but keep the cream cheese and fish on my bagel. Some things are not meant to be fusionized.” She wrinkled her nose. “Is that a word?”
He opened up the pizza box. “It is now. I grabbed us a half-and-half. Half margherita, half pepperoni with sausage, bacon and mushrooms.”
Her mouth began to water. “Now that’s my kind of pizza.”
“I grabbed a zinfandel with a twist-off lid, as I wasn’t sure you’d have a corkscrew,” he said, grabbing two mugs from next to the coffee maker and pouring them both a healthy splash of wine.
Eva hadn’t been aware of just how hungry she was until he’d walked into the hotel room and she’d been smacked upside the head with the scent of all things heavenly. Oregano. Garlic. Tomato sauce. Cheese. Basil. Pepperoni. Was there anything in the world that smelled better?
“Here you go.” He handed her the mug of wine, and that’s when she caught Scott’s scent. Masculine, powerful, fresh, and just a touch citrusy.
Okay, well, maybe pizza was the second-best scent in the world, because the man in front of her smelled pretty damn delicious too.
She took th
e mug and thanked him.
He lifted his just a touch higher in the air. “To … ” His crooked nose wrinkled, and he glanced up into the corner of the room. “To … ”
She smiled. He was cute when he was confused. “To heroes not in capes. You saved me from … ”
Peeing my pants.
“A very embarrassing fate,” she finished, clinking her mug against his.
“To heroes not in capes,” he repeated, taking a sip of his wine while eyeing her over the rim of his mug. The twinkle in the lighter brown flecks of his eyes spoke of mischief. Sure, Scott was a nice guy, but she could tell just by the way he smiled so confidently, held himself with such carefree ease and squinted just slightly when he stared at her, this man had a wicked side. And not necessarily the bad kind of wicked.
“So, shall we start?” he asked, setting his mug down on the table.
Well, that was blunt.
No foreplay, no seduction, nothing. Just right to the point. In and out. Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am.
She choked on the wine in her throat and began coughing, her eyes widening as the thought of dying in a hotel room with a sexy stranger began to edge its way to the forefront of her mind. “Excuse me?” she gasped.
Scott pounded on her back. “I asked if you wanted to start.”
She took another sip of her wine and glanced up at him, her eyes watering. “Um … I’ve never … this is, uh … ”
“I mean the pizza,” he said, his warm chuckle sweeping over her like a velvet throw. He shook his head. “I’m not a complete asshole. Remember that this was all your idea. I just wanted to go for pizza. If you want to sit on your bed and watch movies, drink wine and eat pizza all night, I am A-OK with that.” He grabbed a napkin from the side of the pizza box, then reached for a slice of pepperoni pizza, handing the napkin and pizza to her. “My mama raised a gentleman. No means no. You, beautiful Eva, hold all the power here.”
