by Sotia Lazu
Like he’d become, because of her?
No. She wasn’t to blame for his wandering eye or his wandering dick.
When she met him, she had so much in her life—friends, family, work. She gave everything up, to be with him. Changed her schedule to fit his. Left it all behind, to follow him to London, when Derek made him a partner in the restaurant he launched there. She waited tables at the bistro, when they first opened it, to save him money, and she was uprooted again when Mike decided to return to San Francisco and start a chain based here.
By then, she was Mrs. Mike Zaratino and bound to the responsibilities the position entailed, such as going to luncheons and galas, and being vapid.
She barked a laugh. It was so easy to blame him for everything she’d chickened out of. If she kept on, she might manage to really hate him, instead of going to bed at night craving his touch and praying he’d visit her dreams.
She remembered the first time he took her. How he filled her. How he made her his. She loved the way he moved, whether he was inside her or combining lowly ingredients in the kitchen, to create magic.
Damn it, she still loved him.
This had to change.
Her dreams were a way for her to mend her broken heart, but she couldn’t fall down the rabbit hole again. In her sleep, she changed what had really happened into something that suited her more. She was more demanding, less swooning, and definitely not looking for a relationship with Mike. Eventually, she might convince herself to reject him.
If she couldn’t break his hold in real life, she’d use her dreams as therapy. It was cheaper than seeing a shrink, and she didn’t need to get dressed and face the world.
Her cell rang, but she let it go to voicemail. It would be her mother. Worried. Begging her to reconsider. Bella didn’t need another reason to doubt her decision. She needed to get over Mike, forget the past sixteen years, and build a new life that didn’t revolve around him.
And she’d start with a shower.
She convinced her limbs to stretch, and grimaced at the ache in her back. It felt like she’d slept on the floor. It might be wise to take up yoga again.
Something caught her eye on the way to the bathroom. The butt-ugly miniature of the Aztec deity sat on Mike’s nightstand.
Not Mike’s any more. Now it was the other nightstand.
Bella didn’t remember bringing it to her room, but she had a couple of beers last night, and she was a notoriously lightweight drinker. A shiver ran down her spine when she focused on the statue’s painted-on eyes. They were tiny but creepily lifelike. She’d have to move it back to the living room. No way could she sleep there again, with it watching her.
Chapter Five
Two nights in a row was once too many. Mike wasn’t the repeat-offender type of guy. One time was all it took to learn everything he needed about a woman, and everything was neatly summed up in how good a lay she was.
Ana was an exceptional lay—she could bend like an acrobat—but she’d made him break his rules, and that was dangerous.
Last night he fell asleep with her in his arms, in his own place, and he would have spent the entire night with her if she didn’t run out. It shouldn’t bother him that she didn’t want to stay over, but it did, and it showed how close to losing control he was.
And it was all about control.
His parents were still together, still crazy about each other after four decades of marriage, but the idea of losing himself to anyone like they did to each other scared Mike shitless. No woman was worth sacrificing his freedom, at least for as long as his good looks held.
Which was why he wouldn’t sleep with Ana again. Two nights were bad enough, but three would be leading her on, and he might be a total dog, but he never played with a woman’s feelings. He created no expectations. He was clear about what he wanted and stressed that he offered no future.
But he did ask for her phone number two nights ago.
A momentary lack of judgment. That was all. Alcohol and a great fuck clouded a man’s mind. This evening he was dry and thinking straight, and next time Ana appeared, he’d turn her down. Simple as that.
Simpler, with today being a Monday, and him not having to go to the restaurant. He doubted she’d show up at his place. If she were looking for a steady fuck buddy, she’d have given him her digits.
He stretched and rubbed his chest. The skin was tender from her scratches. His cock stirred at the memory of her riding him on the floor, digging her nails into the spot over his heart.
“Oh, give me a break,” he told the tent forming in his covers. Thinking of her was enough to make him hard. This was out of the ordinary too. Out of sight, out of mind was how things worked.
He forced himself up and into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. The sun pouring in the windows called to him. He’d hit the grocery store and then see if any of the guys from the restaurant was up for coffee. With the hours he kept, maintaining a friendship with anyone but his coworkers was next to impossible.
Wait. Tanya was in town, and he’d ditched her rudely. He pocketed his wallet and took out his cell, already dialing her on his way out.
Tanya suggested they meet at the same café Derek had chosen months earlier, to bitch and moan to Mike about Amanda. The irony didn’t escape Mike. Last he was there, he’d sat and listened to his boss talk about his impossible landlady. This time, he was the one whining about sleeping with a gorgeous woman. He should have his man card revoked.
“If you like her, why not sleep with her again?” Tanya sounded equal parts curious and annoyed.
“You’re not listening. She may think we’re dating.”
“She won’t even give you her number, you jackass. Not all women want to reel you in and make an honest man out of you.” She crossed her legs and jiggled her foot. She always did that when she was upset, but Mike didn’t know why she’d be upset now.
“I know. I just don’t want her to think that’s what I want,” he said.
“Because God forbid you actually change your tune when you find a woman worth pursuing.” She raised her voice with every word.
“This isn’t about Ana and me, is it?” Mike asked.
Tanya huffed. Snorted. Narrowed her eyes. Then she shook her head and let out a dry laugh. “It’s not. I’m sorry. I know you’re not a dick, and I get that you want to do the right thing. I just don’t understand why you think the right thing is denying yourself what you want. You weren’t looking for more than a quick fuck—”
“Tan.” He looked around. Nobody seemed shocked by the obscenity, but still. “This isn’t New York.”
She waved dismissively. “Oh, please. People fuck in San Francisco too. You should know. And though you meant to do just that when you met her, things change. If you find yourself at a different place, tell her. Don’t be afraid to go after what you want.” Her eyes darkened at that. “You never win when you don’t try.”
Mike reached for her hand. “What happened back home?”
She left her hand in his. “Nothing. I needed a change of scenery, and Derek’s place was empty since he moved back in with Amanda. I’d be stupid not to take advantage of a paid apartment by the sea.”
“And you’re not stupid.” He smiled.
“Nope. Not me.” But she avoided his gaze.
“I’m here if you want to talk. You know, right?”
Her smile looked fragile. “I know. When I can talk about it all, I’ll get a six-pack and pop by your place, like old times.”
“You got it.”
“Now, when are you seeing Ana again?”
He ducked, his long black hair forming a curtain in front of his eyes and hiding him from Tanya’s penetrating gaze. “I don’t fucking know.”
* * * *
It was that very evening. He opened his door to take the trash to the chute, and Ana stood outside, fist poised to knock.
“Who let you in downstairs?” he asked. It was the first thing that came to mind, and it was stupid, because
he really, truly didn’t give a flying fuck.
She was there, looking at him with those huge blue eyes and worrying her luscious lower lip with her teeth. “Someone was leaving,” she blurted.
Good enough for him. He closed the distance between them, wrapped both arms around her waist, and sealed her lips with his. When she lifted her legs to encircle his hips, he turned and propped her against his open door. Wood slammed against brick, but he ignored it, lost in the heat of her mouth and body.
She twisted a hand in his T-shirt and wedged the other between them, to undo his fly. She didn’t mind being taken right there, where anyone could see. Could this woman get any hotter?
She broke the kiss and whispered, “Want you. Now.”
He wanted nothing more, but it nagged at him that she seemed to only be after his cock. Normally, he ran from anything resembling a commitment. He never made plans that spanned more than twelve hours with a woman, in fear of getting wrapped up in a relationship, and he definitely didn’t turn down no-strings-attached, on-the-spot action.
But he wasn’t a life-size vibrator, damn it.
He gave Ana a quick peck on the lips and unlocked her ankles from behind his back.
She found her footing with the ballerina’s grace that characterized all her movements. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “You don’t have somewhere to be.”
It didn’t sound like a question, but that was probably him. “I was on my way to dinner.” An innocent lie. “Care to join me?”
Ana scrunched her nose in dismay.
“What’s the matter? Got something against eating?” When they shared the bruschettas he made last night, she didn’t give him the impression she starved herself—though she must have sacrificed some things, to have such a flawless body.
“Dinner’s fine. I just—this isn’t a date, right?”
He was taken aback. “What if it is?” Which it wasn’t. It was about getting nourishment and delaying gratification. Nothing more.
“This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. You call me up, we have a good time, and then I go… back.”
Mike frowned. “But I didn’t call you. I don’t have your number. You showed up here.”
She shook her head, her gaze to the floor. “I should leave. I just thought one last night would be fun.”
He had no doubt it would, but before he got lost in her body again, he needed to figure out what was in that gorgeous head of hers. “Have dinner with me, and then I promise you all the fun you can manage. Just let me get my jacket.” And keys and wallet. And an extra condom, in case they couldn’t wait.
She looped her arm through his when he came back out. “So, where are we going?”
“I’m in the mood for Vietnamese. You up for it?” He locked and led her toward the elevator.
She glanced up, eyes narrowing briefly. “Right. I got my nights mixed up.”
“Sorry?” Was she bat-shit crazy, or did he hear wrong?
“Nothing.”
He probably heard wrong. He called the elevator and kissed her while they waited for it, enjoying how her body melted against his. When the doors opened next to them, she pulled away. Her face was pinched. The woman’s mood was more volatile than nitroglycerine.
He was about to ask what was wrong, when she spoke. “Last time we talked was in an elevator.”
It was a whisper, but he caught it, and it had nothing to do with him. She’d lost someone. Someone close to her. Maybe her sexual appetite was a coping mechanism. She wanted to forget, and he was nothing more than a distraction. His gut twisted at the thought, but he’d distract her to the best of his abilities.
He pushed her against the mirrored wall and sneaked a hand under her top, to cup one breast. His knee between her thighs kept her in place, while he tasted her lips again. They were made for his, these soft, full lips. A promise always lingered at their corner, even when they weren’t arched in a smile.
“Three days in a row,” he said, before his brain had processed the words. “You’re my longest relationship.”
She laughed. “Definitely not a relationship. I won’t be making that mistake again.”
And once more, words that should have been a reassurance left him aching inside.
The restaurant Mike had in mind was packed, and they got hotdogs and went for a stroll on the pier instead.
Ana bit down on the sausage and let out a moan of delight. “This is better than I remembered.”
“How long since you’ve had one?” Maybe she was a dancer; they weren’t allowed junk food.
She laughed. “Eons.”
Her laugh was infectious and adorable. He wanted to hear it again. “It’s my comfort food,” he said.
They walked without talking for a while, enjoying their food, their free hands brushing together. Among the loud throng of people around them, their silence was companionable, not awkward, and when Mike sat on a bench and Ana made herself comfortable with her legs in his lap, it felt like they’d been doing that forever.
He finished his dog and tossed the wrapper in the nearby can. A drop of ketchup had made its way at the corner of Ana’s lips. He bushed it with his thumb, and she snatched his hand and sucked his fingertip clean.
Fuck. She was sex on legs, but he didn’t want to be thinking of sex now. He wanted to talk. And he recognized the wrongness in that.
“Is your name really Ana?” he asked. Like she’d tell him the truth if she’d given him a fake name to begin with.
“Part of it,” she said. She studied his face, and Mike got lost in her eyes again, until the wind sent her long tresses flying across her face, breaking their connection. “My full name is Anabella, but everyone calls me Bella. Ana is the name I use for work. And I give it to guys I don’t plan on seeing again.”
He should be insulted, but she gave him that lopsided smile he couldn’t help but return. “You saw me again,” he said.
“I didn’t plan on it.” She fidgeted with the empty wrapper of her hotdog.
Right. She’d only happened to go by his work and then his home. Something told him pointing that out would make her withdraw into herself. “I’m glad you did,” he said, “and I think I’ll stick with Ana. I like it.”
Her expression darkened. “I’ve heard so before.”
He needed to get the smile back. “Ana, Ana, Banana,” he sing-songed.
She laughed. Score. “My mom calls me her Banana. My cousin thought that was my real name, until we were six.”
“My mom always calls me Mikey. When she refers to me as Mike—or worse, Michael—I know she’s about to rain the wrath of God down on me. Used to scare the crap out of me. Now I weather it.”
“I know.” She ducked her head. “I know the feeling, I mean. When Dad yells Anabella, I know I’ll hear something I won’t like.”
“It’s funny how they make us feel like kids, even now.”
“I automatically turn into a five-year old when I argue with Mom. It was worse when I lived with them. Now—” She paused and scrunched her nose, as if considering something. “Yeah… Now we have lunch together once a week.”
Mike nodded. “My folks are in New York. If we were in the same city, I imagine we’d do the same.”
“Probably.”
“What do you do? For a living?”
The question seemed to throw her. More lip-chewing.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Mike said. “Or maybe you can’t.” He let out an exaggerated gasp. “Are you a spy?”
Ana scowled. “Yes. And now that you know, I have to kill you.”
They joked more about it, but Mike didn’t miss the fact that she didn’t answer. They talked until the pier emptied of people. Exchanged barbs about their first time together. Shared anecdotes from their childhoods. And with every little bit of herself Ana divulged to him, Mike’s hunger for her grew.
It was more than the insane attraction he felt toward her. Seeing her face light up with mirth and watching her long,
elegant fingers move to emphasize her point fascinated him as much as having her writhing against him did. When he mentioned a song he liked, and she sang it with him, he couldn’t get enough of her melodious voice.
She said she was up for ice cream, and this time when their knuckles touched, he took her hand in his. It felt familiar. Comfortable. Right.
It burned his skin and made his pulse race.
Was this how falling in love felt?
Chapter Six
The smile on Bella’s lips disappeared when the harsh light of day hit her eyelids.
The dream was over, and she was back to her stupid, painful reality. Just as well. The dreams got weirder by the night. Having incredible sleep-sex was one thing, but a long, personal conversation over street food? With her ex?
Who’d want to dream of that?
Yes, it was nice watching him hang from her every word, instead of showing off like he really had on their third date, but waking up alone hurt even more than usual.
She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to go back to sleep, long enough to see the end of her not-a-date with Mike. In the real date, they’d gone for ice cream and had sex on the beach, but things might be different in her sleep. Maybe dream-Mike would do or say something to break his spell over her.
And she wanted to be Ana a little longer. She hadn’t used that name since she quit singing, but he never stopped calling her that. Ana was happy and carefree and only twenty-six. She was a vocalist, with a couple of great gigs set up for the summer and a contract for her own album just around the corner.
A contract she’d turned down without even mentioning it to Mike, because she wanted to devote her life to him and he’d have urged her to take it.
Bella missed Ana.
“You have an incoming call from That Fucking Pig.” The robotic voice of her HouseSsistant5000 boomed over her head. Weird. It used to be a female voice, and Bella had muted it after the fiftieth call from Mike. Probably a glitch in the latest software update.
