One Night with the CEO

by Mia Sosa

  “For as long as I can remember.”

  He opened his mouth, but that was far as he got before he clamped it shut.

  “Go ahead, Mark. I can handle a question or two.”

  “Did you ever seek guidance about why that might be?”

  Oh, God. Why had she decided to go down this road? “My parents took me to a few specialists. I think my mother suspected I had ADD. According to the doctors I saw when I was a teenager, though, I don’t. One doctor mentioned hyper-intention.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A fancy word some doctor made up to explain away minor problems, I guess.”

  “I’m sure it’s more than that. Tell me.”

  “It’s almost like a self-fulfilling prophesy as I understand it. Like, let’s say you’re deathly afraid of spiders. You focus so much on that fear that the fear gets worse. In my case, I’m so worried that I won’t be able to concentrate in a given situation that I guarantee it.”

  “Any situation?”

  “Highly stressful situations usually. Like meeting new people.” She pointed her thumb in the ballroom’s direction. “Or being in front of a large group.”

  “But you’ve managed it so far.”

  “Yeah. I’m just worried medical school might be my breaking point. That’s one highly stressful situation in and of itself.”

  “You had to take a big test to get into medical school, right?”

  “Yes. The MCAT.”

  “How’d you get through that?”

  “That’s just it. I didn’t have to. When it comes to my studies, it’s never been an issue. It’s like my brain is wired to do exactly what it needs to do. It’s probably why I’m so focused on my studies. I don’t know. When I’m studying, I feel centered. Everything falls into place.”

  “You’re motivated to do great things, Karen. You’ll be an excellent medical student and an excellent doctor. You didn’t push yourself in college only to stop now.”

  “You’re right. I just wish it didn’t have to be this hard.”

  “Life is hard. But all of it doesn’t have to be. You’re going to stumble, sure, but it’s so much easier to get back up when you’re stumbling over something that’s important to you. Decide what you want to work hard for, and leave the rest of it behind. Focus on what’s important to you.”

  She dropped her head against the back of the chaise and stared at the night sky. “That’s your philosophy on life?”

  “In a nutshell.”

  He’d shared his advice as though the solution to her problems was simple. She knew otherwise. And she suspected he did, too; he was a smart guy, after all. One aspect of his statement did pique her interest, however. She turned on her side and propped her elbow against the back of the chaise. “So tell me this. What did you leave behind?”

  * * *

  His life was not up for discussion, so Mark ignored Karen’s question and posed his own. “What time is your flight tomorrow?”

  She stretched and rubbed her eyes, reminding him of a sleek feline waking from a restful slumber. “Eleven a.m. Why?”

  “Thought I’d give you a ride to the airport, but I’m leaving earlier than that. I could arrange for the car service to pick you up, though.”

  She yawned. “No, that’s okay. Ethan and Gracie took care of everything.”

  He nodded and checked his watch. “Shall we head back?”

  “Mark.”

  “It’s getting late.”

  “I’ve shared some very personal stuff with you. So far, you’ve shared nothing.”

  “I didn’t realize we were keeping score.”

  “No, we’re not. But friends share information about themselves.”

  His gaze traveled over Karen’s body. Even at rest, she captivated him.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Do you have brothers and sisters?”

  “Not really.”

  “It’s a yes or no question, Mark.”

  “I have a half brother.”

  She sat up and rubbed her hands together. “Ooooh. Now we’re getting somewhere.” She scooted closer so that their knees almost touched. “Tell me about your parents.”

  Every muscle in his body tensed, instinct warning him to protect himself from the unpleasant memories ahead. He slowed his breathing, attempting to ease into the conversation as casually as possible. “I grew up with my dad.”

  She covered his hand with hers. “Did something happen to your mom?”

  “Yeah. Boredom.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He’d said too much, but he couldn’t figure out how to retract the truth. So he gave her an abbreviated account of his mother’s fucked-up departure. “I grew up with my dad. My parents split when I was four or five. My mother was too young. She and my dad had no business getting married when they did, he says. She had big plans, a life to live, a world to see. My dad and I were deadweight. So one day she left. No note, no phone call. Just a voice mail message at my father’s work. ‘You need to pick up Mark,’ she’d said. ‘I won’t be coming back.’”

  He didn’t tell her the precise day, but he knew it by heart: September 6. The first day of school. He’d left the house, nerves and excitement warring within his six-year-old belly, and he’d ridden the school bus like a big boy. That afternoon, when he’d jumped off the school bus and barreled through the front door, his father had been waiting for him. His stunned dad delivered the news without preamble. She’s gone, he’d said. And she’s not coming back.

  Karen moved closer to him. “That’s awful.”

  Her earnest expression worried him. “Don’t be so concerned, Karen. I’m not broken because of it. I was too young to know what was happening.”

  That’s what he told himself, at least. He clamped down on his bottom lip, a physical reminder to keep the grittier details to himself. His father’s depression. The unkempt house they’d lived in. The way his father’s shoulders had slumped every time he looked at his son. Not until he’d been invited to a play date at a friend’s house had he remembered people kept tidy homes—and smiled at their children. That was all in the past, though. After a while—several years, in fact—his father had emerged from his funk and learned to be the caregiver Mark needed. And he was grateful for his father’s love and support since then.

  Karen’s gaze bounced around the beach, eventually landing on his face. “But you were a baby. And then your mother was gone.”

  “I had my dad, and although he didn’t know a thing about raising a child, we survived. Together.”

  “Did you ever reconnect with her?”

  “I did. Years later. By then, she and my dad had divorced and she had a new family of her own. I have a brother. A half brother, I mean. She finally settled down after she had him.”

  “I don’t know that I could have a relationship with my mother if she’d left that way.”

  “It took time, but we’re okay now. She calls occasionally, to check on me. Guilt, I guess. And I’m not angry at her. I’m indifferent mostly. She made mistakes. So did my dad.”

  “Where’s your dad now?”

  “He lives in Maryland. On Kent Island. I think he’s still waiting for my mother to come back to him. He never remarried. Never dated really.”

  How the hell had they gotten to this point? He never shared anything about his personal life, not voluntarily, and now he’d regurgitated his childhood in the span of minutes. She’d coaxed him into sharing his past with her, and if he didn’t guard himself better, she’d take a lot more. He had no inclination to go down the same path his father had stumbled over.

  He wanted to fill the silence, but he didn’t know what to say. More than anything, he worried about her reaction. And if she pitied him, he had only himself to blame.

  She slapped his thigh and smiled. “We’re a depressing pair, aren’t we? Tell you what. You’ve been great today. First you got me out of a jam during the reception and then you shared something about yourself even though
you had no desire to. For that, I’ll let you take me to the casino at the Ritz.”

  What the hell was she talking about? “Why would I do that?”

  “Because the reception is almost over. Because it’s our last night in Puerto Rico and I need to live it up for a change. And I’m an excellent blackjack player, so I could teach you a thing or two.”

  “Blackjack’s not my game. Poker’s more my speed.”

  She made a big show of inspecting his face, her eyes bright with amusement. After several seconds ticked by, she widened her eyes. “Oh, you’re serious. Mark, I hate to tell you this, but your face doesn’t lend itself to poker.”

  He smiled as he rose from the chaise. “What do you mean by that?”

  “It’s simple. Your face is a neon sign for your feelings. Mark’s happy? The big, open smile appears. Mark’s confused? Those eyebrows knit together and you wrinkle your nose.”

  “I do not wrinkle my nose.”

  “Do, too. Not in the mood to be bothered? The blank stare emerges. And if you’re trying to hide your true feelings, you stare at your toes, or your watch, or a spot in the distance.”

  He caught himself wrinkling his nose and shuddered.

  She pointed at him. “See there. You’re proving my point.”

  He reached for her hands and pulled her out of the chaise. “I have an early flight out tomorrow, so I’ll have to take a rain check on our casino date.”

  She pouted. “Fine.”

  Mark laughed at the disingenuous look of disappointment on her face. He’d spent several minutes in her presence without their mutual attraction stifling them. Had they turned a corner? Maybe the sparks that had flown during their initial meeting had finally been snuffed out.

  As they made their way back to the wedding reception, she clung to his arm, cozying up to him in a way she probably thought was friendly, unaware that being this close to her had a dizzying effect on him.

  “It’s beautiful out here, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “It is,” was all he could manage.

  Soft blue and green lights bathed the hotel’s grounds, giving the courtyard a majestic appearance. The shadows and dark corners along the hotel’s corridors taunted him. He pictured himself maneuvering her into one of those corners and stealing a kiss.

  The heat caused him to imagine her wavy hair plastered against her skin, her body languid with lust as he caressed her shoulders, moved his hands down to her waist, and trailed his fingers over her thighs. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed the images to go away.

  “You okay?” she asked by his side.

  He opened his eyes and gave her a curt nod. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re staring off into space again.”

  He stopped mid-stride and faced her, a few feet from the garden that fronted the hotel’s courtyard. “Drop it, okay?”

  Her arm fell away from him. “Okay.”

  With her eyebrows knitted, she rubbed her upper arms and walked ahead of him. He knew the chill in the air came from his sour attitude, not the temperature.

  Dammit. He reached for her, wanting to apologize, needing to explain that his frustration was his problem, not hers. “Karen…”

  She didn’t slow down and spoke over her shoulder. “Forget about it, Mark. It’s okay.”

  No. It wasn’t okay, and he could think of only one way to make it right.

  So he tugged her to his chest and kissed her.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Well, that had escalated quickly.

  Mark’s mouth captured hers. She tasted salt and a hint of sweetness on his lips, a heady combination that made her moan in appreciation. She arched into him, wanting—no, needing— to feel his body against hers. He responded by snaking his hand under her hair and caressing her neck. Seconds later, he wrapped his other hand around her middle and stroked her back. Mark’s kisses promised a full-body experience, and she shivered in response to all the points of contact. Finally, he drew back, gulping in air. Oh, right. She needed to breathe. Funny how easily he made her forget a minor inconvenience like breathing.

  She pressed her face against his chest and held on to the lapels of his suit as she took in air. “What’s happening?”

  He brushed his fingers against her hair. “I’m sorry for acting like an ass.”

  She looked up at him then. “That’s your version of an apology?”

  He stepped back and ran a hand through his hair. “No, that’s my version of being selfish. What I should have done was apologize for being a jerk to you. You didn’t deserve it.”

  She nodded. “You’ll get no argument from me there.”

  He stepped toward her and reached for her hands. “I wanted to kiss you, but I didn’t think it would be a smart move, so I took my frustration out on you.”

  “And the kiss?”

  He dropped her hands and shoved his own in his pockets. “The kiss is harder to explain.”

  “Um, unless I’m missing something, the phenomenon is called attraction. Your pheromones and my pheromones are sending chemo-signals to each other. Totally normal.”

  He gave her his trademark half smile. “Totally not a good idea, either.”

  She didn’t disagree with him. Doing anything with Mark didn’t figure in her plans, no matter how much he’d nearly owned her with a single kiss. “Again, you’ll get no argument from me. Still, that kiss was pretty freaking hot.”

  Mark closed his eyes and raised his head to the night sky. “Stop doing that. I’m relying on you to be the voice of reason in this situation.”

  Ha. That was cute. But she’d oblige him anyway, because she needed to put the kiss in its proper place: a momentary lapse in judgment not to be repeated. If she didn’t, he’d consume her thoughts, and she couldn’t afford the distraction. “Mark, look around. We’re in Puerto Rico. You look hot. I look hot. It’s hot, period. And we’re standing in front of a garden. You hear that?”

  “What?”

  “The coquis.”

  “What’s a coqui?”

  She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Only one of the most important cultural symbols of Puerto Rico.” When he stared at her blankly, she continued. “The tiny frogs, Mark. You must have seen them everywhere at the airport. T-shirts, mugs, hats, you name it. Listen.”

  They faced each other in silence. “That’s their mating call,” she told him. “They’re practically begging us to lock lips. You can’t be faulted for wanting to kiss me under these circumstances.”

  He bridged the distance between them. “What if I told you I’ve wanted to kiss you every single second I’ve been in your presence? Can you explain that?”

  She gulped. “Well, that’s a little harder to explain.”

  He pressed his hand against the back of her neck and pulled her flush against him. “And I’ve never wanted to stop at kissing. I want us to do more than that. A lot more.”

  His breath floated over her face like magic dust, decimating her ability to think clearly. Voodoo. That had to be the reason her logic always failed her when he was near. She simply stared at his lips as he made his case.

  “I’ll admit this is crazy, and yes, we might regret this, but the attraction I felt for you when we first met isn’t going away. I figure we’re both adults, and we should be able to see this for what it is.”

  Yes, yes, yes. Now they were getting somewhere. She nodded in agreement. So enthusiastically she probably looked like a bobblehead.

  “Tonight. Just tonight. Are we on the same page?”

  Karen rubbed two fingers over her lips as she considered his question. For once, she made a conscious effort not to overanalyze the situation. She wanted to have sex with Mark. Plain. Simple. And what he’d proposed wouldn’t derail her. They’d share a single night together, and no one else would know. If all went well, she’d store enough memories to make her evenings with Sammy Silicone passable—maybe even pleasurable. Brilliant. “Yes, we’re on the same page.”

  He lunged for her the
n, this time gripping her temples as his mouth descended on hers. Relishing the pressure against the sides of her face, she fisted her hands in his hair with the same intensity. When he trailed his lips over the column of her throat, she dropped her head back. Despite her Mark-induced haze, she registered the sounds of the band grow louder. She turned to see the door of the ballroom closing and sprang away from Mark seconds before two wedding guests stumbled past them.

  After expelling a relieved breath, she touched her lips. “Can we get out of here?”

  His eyes glossy and half-lidded, Mark responded with a slow nod of his head. That look of arousal made her knees weak and strengthened her resolve.

  The night they’d met, she’d opened up to him about her insecurities, and she didn’t plan to share them with anyone else. He might claim not to remember what she’d told him, but she knew better. The possibility that she could have a positive sexual experience with someone attuned to her needs outweighed the risks that it would all blow up in their faces. And if she couldn’t have great sex with this man, she’d finally have her answer: The problem was her—and always would be.

  * * *

  Mimi pounced on her the moment Karen entered the ballroom. “Where have you been?”

  Shit. Mimi’s talent for detecting secrets rivaled her talent for telling inappropriate jokes. Karen relaxed her facial muscles and smoothed her dress. “Oh. Not far. Just outside. I needed some air.”

  Mimi scanned her face and body as though she were looking for clues to challenge Karen’s claim. She opened her mouth and then shut it when her cell phone buzzed. Smiling as she read the message on her phone, she explained, “It’s the Marine. His name is Troy.”

  Saved by a booty call. “Go ahead and answer it.”

  “He can wait. Listen, I’m meeting him after the reception. I just wanted to let you know, so you’re not concerned if I return to the hotel room a little late.”

  Karen didn’t lie often, but when she did, she sandwiched it between two truths. The practice didn’t make the lie any less problematic, but it helped her say it without stumbling over her words. “Oh, I hope you have a good time.” The truth. “But no need to worry about it. I’m actually going to spend the night with my grandmother.” A lie. “I’ll make sure to be back here in plenty of time to make our flight.” The truth. There. She’d done it.