by Kat Mizera
4
Sunlight was streaming through the window when Renee opened her eyes, and she wondered what time it was. Unfortunately, she’d left her purse and phone downstairs so she had no idea and didn’t want to wake Jared. They’d fallen asleep around six this morning, so it probably wasn’t much past ten, and she gently slid out of bed. She pulled on her panties, bra, jeans, and T-shirt, carrying her shoes as she tiptoed out to find a bathroom.
Her makeup had smudged and her hair was a mess, so she did the best she could to freshen up. She had no intention of saying goodbye—she hated the morning after casual sex—and just wanted to get home and take a shower. She had a lot to do to get ready for her upcoming trip to Europe in addition to a book she had to finish before she left.
Padding down the stairs, she heard noises in the kitchen and winced since she would undoubtedly have to talk to someone. She didn’t remember where she’d left her purse and cell phone so she might have to find Andra.
“Good morning.” Andra was sitting at the kitchen table having coffee. “Pull up a chair.”
“Thank you, but I have a ton to do today. I just need to find my purse and I’ll get out of your hair. I was hoping not to have to make the walk of shame in front of anyone.”
Andra raised her eyebrows. “Why on earth would you use that term?”
Renee smiled faintly. “I don’t know, but I didn’t plan to sleep with the new coach the night I met him and I would have preferred no one saw it.”
“Come have some coffee.”
“I’d love to, but I really can’t. I have a deadline and need to catch up on work.”
“Your purse is on the wet bar.”
“Thank you.” Renee reached for it.
“Will I see you before you leave for Switzerland?” Andra asked.
“Yes, of course.”
“And Renee?”
“Yes?” Renee turned as she picked up her purse.
“A beautiful, successful woman like yourself should never feel any kind of shame after sex.”
“I… Thank you. I appreciate that.” Renee dug out her keys and sunglasses and made her way out to her car.
Letting herself into her house, Renee immediately went upstairs to shower. Last night’s sex marathon left her feeling sweaty and sticky, but a faint smile covered her mouth as the water poured over her. Sex with Jared was what sex should be. Always. With everyone. She and her late husband had made wonderful, sweet love, but it had never been with the intensity she’d felt last night. Well, technically it was this morning, but since it had been dark, she’d refer to it as last night. And what a night it had been.
She’d had lots of good sex, both with her late husband, Billy, and the men she’d dated since then. But there were degrees to the term “good” when sex was involved, and whatever it was she’d done with Jared went way beyond good. She’d kept her emotions at bay, but it had been the first time in a very long time that she’d almost allowed herself to feel more than just the sexy parts. It made no sense because it had been nothing but an epic one-night stand, and yet as they’d lain there in the aftermath, they’d been perfectly in sync. With nothing but their fingers lightly linked between them, she’d been transported back to the days of true love, marriage and happily-ever-afters. That, more than anything else, had fueled her into leaving as quickly as possible this morning. She had no desire to feel anything like that ever again. She’d loved one man like that and he’d died. Once was more than enough.
Her life was good, all things considered. Mostly, it was quiet, without drama or complications, and that’s how she wanted it. To protect her sanity as well as her privacy, she hid under a cloak of anonymity. By using a pen name, her real life was far removed from what might seem like the glamorous life of a bestselling author. There was a movie about one of her books and another one coming soon, and she’d won awards and made appearances at book signing events all over the world. She had it made, professionally and financially, she had a wonderful daughter whom she was close to, and a small, intimate group of girlfriends who were both fun-loving and loyal.
The problem was her love life. Well, it wasn’t a problem really, except when she met a hunky, younger ex-hockey player who made her think about things she’d stopped thinking about a long time ago. It was one night and she knew better than to even consider anything else. She’d thought maybe now that Daisy was away in college, she might meet a guy, someone a little older who didn’t want more kids and had his own money. Someone who’d be a nice companion, keep her company, travel with her, maybe do some co-grandparenting when the time came.
Jared was everything she didn’t want, which was why she’d hightailed it out of there this morning like her ass was on fire. He seemed like the type of alpha, bad boy she wrote about in her books, and that never worked out in reality. She knew better and refused to put herself in a position to be hurt. Not again.
She got out of the shower and towel-dried her hair, wrapping herself in a light, cotton robe. After brushing her teeth and putting on some moisturizer, she dried her hair and put on a little makeup. She never went without because of the terrible acne she’d had as a teenager that left her skin slightly pocked. She’d had some chemical peels over the years that made it a lot better, but she was still self-conscious about it and no one had seen her without makeup other than Daisy and a handful of doctors since Billy had died.
After making a cup of coffee and frying a couple of eggs, she sat at her computer and dove into her email. The best way to avoid feelings of melancholy was work, which she had plenty of. Hopefully, in two weeks she and Daisy would be vacationing all over Europe and Jared Wylde would be nothing more than a wild memory.
Morning sex. Jared loved it and was hard as stone when he woke up every day. He’d been looking forward to burying his morning wood deep inside of Renee again, but the coolness of the sheets told him she wasn’t beside him anymore. He opened his eyes and looked around, coming awake more quickly than he wanted to as annoyance set in. She’d left without even saying goodbye? What was that about? They’d had a good time and she wasn’t like anyone he’d met in years.
Pulling on some clothes, he freshened up and then padded down to the kitchen. Andra was drying some dishes, and he leaned over to kiss her cheek.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Good afternoon,” she replied with a grin.
“It was a great party,” he said, grabbing a coffee mug.
“It was.” She put a few dishes in the dishwasher. “What are you doing the rest of today?”
“Not a lot,” he responded. “Probably talk with Brad some, maybe get to bed early since we partied hard last night.”
“That’s a good idea. I’m not cooking tonight, so you’re on your own.”
“Okay, that’s no problem.” He took a sip of coffee and sighed happily. He wasn’t hungover, but he was definitely tired.
“Anything you need before I vacuum?”
“When, uh, when did Renee leave?” He hoped he looked more casual than he felt, but he was unsure how close she and Andra were or if Renee had been upset about something.
“About two hours ago.”
“Shit, she barely slept at all.”
“I think she wanted to get home to her own bed. By the way,” she said as she pointed to a stack of trays. “Do you think you could take those to her?”
“What?” He blinked.
“She forgot her trays. Would you take them to her for me? I have a ton of other things to do and the house is still a disaster. You don’t mind, do you?”
Jared wasn’t sure what to say so he shook his head. “No, of course not.”
“I’ll text you her address. She doesn’t live too far.”
“I need to get a shower first.”
“No rush.” Andra smiled as she walked out of the room, and Jared warily watched her go.
Had he done something wrong? No, Renee had been into it last night. She was probably like most women and feeling a little emba
rrassed this morning… except he hadn’t gotten that vibe from her. She seemed confident in her own skin, mature, and definitely no shrinking violet in the bedroom. He had a hard time imagining her slinking out of here this morning, hanging her head. The woman he’d been with last night had given as good as she got and hadn’t held back at all. He’d been planning to ask for her number, maybe take her to dinner or something. He wasn’t interested in anything long-term, but there was something intriguing enough about her to make him want to see her again.
Well, if nothing else, he had her number and address now, so he might as well take her the trays and see if she wanted to go to dinner tonight. He wouldn’t mind a repeat of last night’s sexcapades either.
With that in mind, he took the stairs three at a time to get into the shower.
5
The timer on the oven had just gone off when the doorbell rang and Renee looked up in annoyance. She’d been hoping to get the last five thousand words of her book done today so she could send it off to her editor, but between a phone call from Daisy and a ton of emails, she hadn’t gotten anywhere so far. While she’d been on the phone with Daisy, she’d mixed up a batch of scones, her only true weakness when it came to sweets, and they were almost done.
Wiping her hands on a dish towel, she walked to the door and peeked out. Her mouth fell open when she recognized Jared, and for a second, all she could do was stare. How had he found her? And why was he here?
Shit.
She took a moment to compose herself and then slowly opened the door. “Hi, Jared.”
“Hey.” He gave her a grin as he held out the trays she’d used to transport her desserts yesterday. “You lookin’ to get some strange, by any chance?”
She snorted out a laugh as she took the trays. “You’ve seen me naked, so I’m pretty sure strange no longer applies, but thank you for bringing my stuff.”
He took off his sunglasses and gave her a look she couldn’t quite decipher. “Well, in addition to Andra asking me to bring these, we never got a chance to say goodbye, so I thought this would be a good excuse to do just that.”
“I thought the whole point of a one-night stand was leaving?” she countered, hoping he didn’t recognize how much seeing him standing on her front steps affected her.
“That’s usually negotiable.” His eyes glittered, reflecting both intensity and playfulness.
“I have to check something in the oven—you want to come in?” she asked abruptly.
“Sure.” He followed her inside as she hurried into the kitchen to get her scones out of the oven before they burned.
“Sweet Jesus, what is that smell?” he demanded. “I think I just drooled.”
“Cinnamon scones.” She put the hot baking sheet on the granite countertop. “If you can wait a few minutes for them to cool down, I’m happy to let you try them.”
“Sure.” He sank onto a bar stool and looked around. “Your house is beautiful.”
“Thank you. I bought it after my first bestseller, about eight years ago.”
“Bestseller?” He frowned slightly and she realized they literally knew nothing about each other. Except what they liked in bed. They knew plenty about that. And how she liked to kiss. He’d figured that out right—she stopped abruptly. What the hell was she thinking?
“I’m an author,” she said, realizing she’d been quiet too long. “Would you like a cup of coffee or tea?”
“Coffee would be great, thank you. Are you nervous?”
She managed a laugh. “Not nervous so much as confused. We had a lovely time last night, but while I don’t indulge in one-nighters very often, I’ve had a few since my husband died and I don’t normally have the guy show up at my house the next day.”
“You’re a widow.”
“Yes. Nearly sixteen years.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s been a long time.” She busied herself putting a pod into her Keurig machine and watching it warm up as if it needed her help.
“I can leave if you’re uncomfortable being alone with me.”
“Oh, no, it’s not that.” She shook her head, turning to meet his gaze. “I’m uncomfortable with the uncertainty of whether or not we’re going to sleep together again or if you’re just being polite or what. I’m not afraid of you. Andra wouldn’t have given you my address if you were a creep or something.”
“Well, that’s good to know.” He got to his feet and came around the island to stand in front of her. “Listen, we had a lot of fun last night and I thought maybe we could go to dinner or something. I like you, but obviously we don’t know anything about each other, so when Andra asked me to bring your stuff to you, it was the excuse I needed to get your number. So to speak. No pressure, though. If you want me to go, I can go. If you want to have a cup of coffee and call it a day, that’s okay too. You tell me what would make you the least uncomfortable.”
She cocked her head, looking into his handsome face and forcing herself not to bite her lip, which was something she did when she was nervous. She had no reason to be nervous, though, and he seemed to be genuinely interested in her comfort. And in her. Which she hadn’t been expecting. “We can have coffee and reassess. How does that sound?”
“Perfectly fair.” He walked back around the island and sank onto the stool he’d been in before. “So what do you write?”
“Contemporary romance.”
“Like…bod—”
She cut him off abruptly. “So help me god, if you say bodice rippers, I’m going to punch you in the dick.”
He snorted out a laugh and held up his hands in mock surrender. “I apologize in advance for anything I may inadvertently say. Do you write…sexy stuff with half-naked couples on the covers?”
“Why, yes, yes, I do.” She gave him a sweet smile. “And before you call it a cute little hobby or any other disparaging thing that would force me to carry out my previous threat, I make a buttload of money doing it.”
“I got the impression you liked my dick,” he said thoughtfully, “but even if you didn’t, I like it a lot, and don’t think he would enjoy being punched. You tell me what I’m allowed to say and we’ll go from there.”
She smiled and waved a hand. “Sorry. I’m a little touchy. Most people have really insulting things to say until they find out how much money I make. Then they usually say something equally stupid, like, ‘Wow, do you think I could write a book like that?’”
He winced. “Fuck, that’s rude. I wasn’t going to say anything like that. My mom always called them bodice rippers—sorry, just a point of reference—and she read lots of them, so I didn’t think it was an insult.”
“Back in the eighties, it probably wasn’t, but today? Yeah, it’s not a compliment.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t think of a single insult about what anyone who makes an honest living does. That’s ridiculous.”
“Nice of you to say so.” She put out a couple of plates, butter, knives and napkins. “I’m out of clotted cream,” she said ruefully, “but hopefully I’ll get some of the good stuff while I’m in Europe.”
“When are you going?”
“In about ten days. My daughter goes to college in Switzerland and I’m going to meet her there. We’re going to do the rich-mom version of backpacking across Europe.”
He chuckled. “So no actual backpacks or hostels?”
“Uh, no. There will probably be some hiking when we visit the Acropolis and many days of minimalism as we lounge on a beach somewhere in southern Italy, but there will be nice hotels with running water and private bathrooms. I’m high-maintenance and don’t care what anyone thinks of that. It’s not like I’m asking someone else to pay for it.”
He nodded. “Sounds about right. Good for you. I like a woman who knows her mind.”
“What about you?” She was tired of talking about herself and wanted to know more about him. “Have you ever been married? Kids?”
He shook his head. “No kids, never wanted them. One ex-wife, b
ut we’ve been divorced nearly ten years.”
“Where do you live?”
“Technically, Boston. I coach at a university there.”
“And how do you feel about moving to Vegas?”
“If I get offered the head coaching position, I’m in, but I’m not interested in being an assistant, even in the NHL.” He took a sip of coffee. “When it comes to hockey, I’m pretty high-maintenance myself. I want what I want, the way I want it. Yes, I stepped in to help Brad for the championship games because that was an emergency and the season was over at the college level, but I’m not uprooting my life and giving up a job where I’m the boss to coach under someone else.”
“You don’t think you’re getting an offer?”
“Brad says I’m at the top of the list, but they’re still entertaining other ideas. Until I actually get an offer, I’m not making any decisions.”
“That makes sense.” She got up and touched the scones. “They’re not too hot anymore—one or two?”
“Two,” he responded automatically. “I already know I’m going to love them. And since I’ve never had clotted cream before, I won’t know what I’m missing.”
Renee put several on a plate and brought them around, adding two to his plate. He immediately picked it up and took a bite. His eyes widened and met hers in what could only be described as shock.
“Holy fucking hell, these are…amazing.” He spoke as he chewed and finally swallowed. “How do you stay so skinny baking like this? I’d probably weigh a thousand pounds.”
“You get bored with it after a while.”
“I doubt that.”
He ate both of the scones she’d put on his plate, then got up and got another from the baking sheet and ate that one too.
“Please,” he said finally. “We have to leave the kitchen or I may never stop eating them.”
She smiled happily. It had been a long time since a man had appreciated her cooking other than when she brought something over to someone’s house. It was different when it was one-on-one like this, and she slid off her stool. “Let me put these in the dishwasher and we can go sit in the family room.”
