Second Best, #1

by Noelle Adams

  Sean was quiet for a moment, clearly thinking about what I’d told him. “So you went into property law so you could help people like them.”

  “Not immediately. I knew in college I wanted to be a lawyer, but I’m not sure I even knew what it entailed. I just had these vague daydreams of defending people in court. When I got to law school, though, and I had to start making decisions, what happened to my grandparents was what decided me.”

  “Are they still alive?”

  “My grandmother is. She’s in an assisted living place now. She’s doing okay, but...” I didn’t finish. I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to finish. It felt strange and almost dangerous to have shared something so personal with Sean.

  He didn’t say anything. He just took his last sip of wine and put his glass down quietly on the table.

  Wanting to do something to get the emotional pressure off me, I asked, “What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “Why did you become a property developer? Your family is all cops, right?”

  “Yeah. My father and grandfather and three cousins and my sister and both brothers.”

  “Wow. So why didn’t you do that too?”

  “I don’t really know.” He didn’t sound like he was avoiding the question. He seemed to mean what he said. “I think I just wanted to do something different. And I wanted to make money.”

  I laughed. “Nice.”

  “I know it sounds mercenary, but it’s true. I think money is a prime motivator for a lot of people’s career decisions, particularly when you grow up without a lot of it.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

  “I was always the smartest of the bunch, and my parents wanted me to go to college, which no one else in my family ever did. I majored in business without really knowing what I wanted to do, and then I started an MBA program. It was only then that I figured it out.”

  I tried to imagine Sean as a college student, as a graduate student, and I simply couldn’t do it. He wore competence and authority like his suits—like it was part of him. “And what does your family think about it? Are they disappointed you didn’t follow the family tradition?”

  His thin, expressive mouth did a little twist. “They were all right. My dad was disappointed, and I got a lot of snide comments from my brothers, but no one really held it against me. My grandmother was always really supportive. Follow your heart, boy. Always do your own thing.”

  The last two sentences were clearly in the voice of his grandmother—spoken in a thick Irish brogue.

  My eyes widened as I chuckled. “Does she really talk like that?”

  “Oh yes.”

  He didn’t speak with even a trace of an accent. His speech was clean, uninflected, and it occurred to me then that he might have worked to make it so.

  I asked, “So your family is really Irish?”

  He arched his eyebrows very high. “You know my name is Sean Doyle, right?”

  I laughed even more. “Of course. I’ve got Irish in my family background, but it doesn’t really impact who we are. So I didn’t know how... how close the Irish heritage was for you.”

  “Very close. Very close.” He looked like he’d say more, but there was a knock on the door then, and he got up to let in room service.

  The server put the dishes on the table with the glasses, utensils, napkins, condiments, and a bottle of sparkling water.

  Sean signed the bill and waited until we were alone in the room.

  “Thanks for dinner,” I said, lifting the silver cover off my plate. The salmon, risotto, and vegetables looked delicious.

  Sean’s ribeye looked even better.

  We were quiet as we started to eat, and I found myself wondering how I would feel if I’d been eating dinner in a hotel room with John rather than Sean.

  It would be better. Surely it would be better. I couldn’t imagine anyone else being as smart and funny and interesting as Sean, but it would have to be better if I was with a man I loved.

  Right?

  I tried to imagine John wearing nothing but pajama pants and chewing a bite of steak across the table from me. It was an attractive image but strangely blurry around the edges.

  “What are you thinking about?” Sean asked, breaking me out of my reverie.

  I felt almost guilty, like I’d been caught doing something naughty. “Nothing.”

  “You’re thinking about the jackass, aren’t you?”

  I gasped, as much in surprise as indignation. “No! Of course not. Why would you say that?”

  “Because you had a dopey expression on your face,” Sean said with a hint of that smug little smile.

  I gasped again and stiffened my spine. “I was not dopey! And he’s not a jackass!”

  “Oh yes, he is.”

  “You don’t even know him.”

  “I told you last time. I know everything I need to know about him. You’re the one who doesn’t really know him.”

  “I work with him every day.”

  “And let me guess. This week, he brushed against you in the hallway, making your heart go all pitter-patter.” His voice was low and amused and not at all bitter. He was teasing me but in a way that proved he liked me and that didn’t offend me at all.

  I rolled my eyes, trying very hard not to smile. “No. He’s been out of the office for a few days.”

  “Sick? Didn’t you rush to his side with chicken soup and sympathy?”

  “He’s been out of town.”

  He’d taken some vacation days and had gone to the Caribbean. He didn’t have a serious girlfriend, but I was pretty sure he’d taken a woman with him.

  If I hadn’t had my evening with Sean to look forward to, I would have been seriously depressed about it.

  I kept telling myself it didn’t matter though. John wasn’t in love with me. He had women in his life that weren’t me. He didn’t have someone special though, so he wasn’t a lost cause.

  Sean was a lost cause.

  He’d given his heart once, and that was clearly all he had in him to give.

  At least I wasn’t stupid enough to fall for Sean the way I had for John.

  “He’s not who you think he is,” Sean murmured, without as much teasing in his tone.

  I met his eyes across the table. “You have no idea who I think he is.”

  He nodded as if acknowledging the words, and I was relieved when he let the subject drop.

  I didn’t mind him teasing me a little for having a crush. I was the one who’d told him about the love of my life when I was drunk last month. But I didn’t want anyone to doubt my feelings were real.

  I knew it was crazy, but my feelings were real. I had absolutely no doubts about them.

  “Sometimes,” I said softly, slowly, “you just know.”

  Sean was silent for a moment, and his expression grew very deep, very serious. “Yeah. I know.”

  He did know.

  He’d been in love too—and far more deeply than I’d ever been.

  He’d been so in love he was going to marry the woman—and she’d been cruelly taken away from him.

  He was such a charming, clever man that it was easy to forget the tragedy that shaped the core of who he was now.

  “Anyway,” I said, trying to break the mood, the tension, since it made my chest feel tight, “There has been no brushing up against him in the hallway this week.”

  “Oh well,” Sean said with a little smile, the teasing awakening in his eyes again. “Maybe next week.”

  My eyes dropped to Sean’s steak, which was halfway gone now. It was a thick cut and very dark pink in the middle.

  My salmon was excellent, but I craved that steak the way I would chocolate.

  “You’re wishing you’d gone with the steak, aren’t you?” Sean asked, once again managing to read my mind.

  “No, of course not. The salmon is delicious.”

  “But it’s not steak.” He was smiling just a little as he carved another bite off his ribeye and speare
d it with his fork.

  He raised his hand, waving the bite in front of me. “You want a bite?”

  God, did I want a bite.

  “Maybe,” I admitted.

  He extended his arm, clearly expecting me to eat the bite off his fork. I leaned forward, and I couldn’t fail to see the look in Sean’s eyes as I pulled the steak off his fork with my mouth.

  He was thinking about sex again. The heat was unmistakable in his eyes.

  And now I was thinking about sex again too.

  I moaned as I chewed the steak, which was tender and succulent and delicious.

  “Good, isn’t it?” Sean’s voice was huskier than before.

  “Mm hmm.”

  “Next time you’ll have to get the ribeye too.” He cut off another piece and offered it to me like he had before.

  What could I do but take it?

  That fire in his eyes was really turning me on.

  By the time we finished eating, we were both aroused. He pulled me out of my chair and over to the bed, taking off my robe as he did so.

  I had nothing on beneath it, so I was completely naked the way he had been earlier. He went a lot slower this time, spending a lot of time on foreplay, kissing me all over, teasing me until I was flushed with arousal from my face to my thighs. I was moaning and gasping in an embarrassingly eager way, but there was no way I could stay quiet.

  The man just knew what he was doing.

  We were more securely on the bed this time as he put on a condom and bent up both my knees. He pushed both my legs toward my chest as he entered me, and I was clutching at the headboard frantically, feeling out of control and trying to hold on in any way I could.

  He wasn’t in any sort of a rush. He took his time, even though his face was tense with something like hunger. He fucked me until I came and then came again, nearly sobbing with it as my body shook and shuddered. Only then did he come too, letting himself go in a hot rush of release.

  I was half gasping and half giggling from how good it had been as he rolled off me. I straightened my sore legs, but the discomfort only made me feel even sexier.

  “Pretty good, huh?” Sean was flushed and smiling as he eyed my obvious satisfaction.

  Honestly, he looked pretty satisfied too.

  “Oh yeah.” I smiled back at him, still trying not to giggle. “That was better than good.”

  I couldn’t ever remember coming like that in my life, but I wasn’t about to admit such a thing to him.

  He was already smug enough.

  As he went to the bathroom to take care of the condom, I barely had enough energy to roll over and reach down onto the floor to grab my robe and put it on again. Then I collapsed back on my pillow, smiling up at the ceiling like an idiot.

  Sean came back, leaning over to snag his pajama pants. He sat on the edge of the bed to put them on and then stretched out beside me.

  He didn’t try to pull me into his arms or touch me in any way. That would have been unnatural—an unspoken lie that both of us would have recognized. But he was still smiling as he turned on his side to look at me.

  I still hadn’t caught my breath, and my body felt deliciously limp and heavy, like I could just sink into the bed.

  “You look like you’re feeling pretty good,” he murmured.

  “I am. I definitely am. The only thing that would make it better is chocolate.”

  He chuckled and reached for the phone. “We can take care of that.”

  I had to suppress more giggles as he ordered us dessert from room service.

  So it was the best evening I’d had in a really long time, and I didn’t even feel strange about it like I had two weeks ago.

  This was good. It was enjoyable for both of us, and neither one of us was going to get hurt—since we’d set the boundaries so clearly from the very beginning.

  Yes, it would be better with a man I loved, but I wasn’t going to pass up something that felt so good.

  We weren’t each other’s first choice. Both of us knew it.

  But second best wasn’t bad at all.

  Three

  TWO MONTHS LATER, I walked into the lobby of the same hotel. I felt particularly pretty and sophisticated today in a skirt suit and a new pair of heels. It felt like men were checking me out, which didn’t normally happen for me.

  I wondered if it was my imagination or if I was becoming sexier somehow.

  As I walked past the check-in desk, the middle-aged man who was always there on Wednesday evenings stopped me. “Excuse me. Ms. Simon?”

  I blinked at the sound of my name and turned toward the speaker with a questioning look. This was my sixth Wednesday night meeting Sean at this hotel, and none of the staff had ever done more than nod and murmur good evening to me as I entered.

  My heart nearly stopped as I realized the man had a message for me.

  From Sean.

  This couldn’t possibly be good.

  “Mr. Doyle is running late,” the man said. “He asked me to give you a key.”

  Enlightened—and immensely relieved that Sean was still planning to show up—I took the key card and continued up to our regular room.

  The hotel room was immaculate and strangely empty without Sean waiting there for me like normal. There was a bottle of red wine waiting with two glasses on the table, as there had been every other night.

  I wondered how late he would be.

  I could sit down and drink a glass of wine. I could pull out my laptop from my bag and clear out some emails. Or I could take a hot shower and be nice and clean and fresh when Sean arrived.

  The last option was most appealing, so I pulled out the slinky, dark blue pajama set I’d bought over the weekend (especially for tonight), slipped off my pretty new heels (pinkish-buff-colored with cute little straps), and headed for the bathroom.

  After I turned the water on to get hot, I pulled my hair back into a messy bun and dropped my clothes onto the floor, feeling almost decadent—like I wasn’t just a normal girl with a normal job living a normal life. I loved the specialty bath wash the hotel provided—deliciously scented with lavender and honey—and I scrubbed up and rinsed off at a leisurely pace.

  I wondered what Sean was doing.

  He probably had a meeting run late or else something urgent came up at work.

  I was going to be very disappointed if the front desk called up to tell me he wasn’t going to be able to make it after all.

  I’d been waiting for two weeks for tonight. I didn’t want to miss out.

  When I felt an unexpected blast of cool air, I turned to see what caused it. I squealed loudly when I saw a man getting into the shower with me. I raised my hands instinctively to beat him off.

  You understand I wasn’t thinking through any of this. All I’d processed was the sudden appearance of a man where I hadn’t been expecting one.

  “Hey,” Sean said, laughing as he grabbed at my flailing wrists. He was as naked as I was. “I expected a warmer welcome than this.”

  I relaxed immediately, flushing with embarrassment and the aftermath of my shock. “You scared the crap out of me!”

  He was still laughing. “I can see that. Who did you think was getting into the shower with you?”

  “I don’t know. I thought you were running late.”

  He moved so he was completely under the shower spray, the water soaking his short brown hair and streaming down his high cheekbones, strong chin, and sexy mouth. “I was. But I rushed over so you wouldn’t start without me.”

  “Start... without...?”

  I didn’t finish the stilted question because he’d pulled me into a kiss.

  I had no objections to kissing him. In fact, it was one of my favorite activities. No one kissed like Sean Doyle did—with those clever lips, agile tongue, and dedicated skill. But I’d put my hair into the bun on purpose, and I didn’t want him to pull my head under the water, so I backed away, saving my hair from getting soaked like his.

  He frowned when I broke the k
iss and reached for me again. “Why are you all standoffish?”

  “I’m not.” I giggled as I evaded his hands. “I just don’t want my hair to get wet.”

  “Why not?”

  I stared at him through the steam-thickened air. “Why not? Do you have any idea what it’s like to go around with wet hair as long as mine? It takes forever to dry, and it gets everything wet.”

  He frowned and stepped forward, pushing me back against the shower wall. “Fine. If you insist on focusing on practicalities, how’s this then?” He kissed me again, and this time I didn’t have any desire to pull away. My head was safely away from the fall of water.

  “Not bad,” I murmured against his lips.

  “Not bad? That’s all you can say after two weeks without kissing me?”

  “What did you expect me to say? That your kiss is the most incredible thing I’ve ever experienced in the universe?”

  He nuzzled the side of my face, his tongue darting out to taste my skin in little, unexpected licks, each one causing a quick jolt of pleasure. “That wouldn’t be a bad start.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh, even though my hands were busy feeling their way down his broad shoulders and straight back until I’d reached his lovely, firm ass.

  If I haven’t mentioned it before, he had a very fine ass.

  The nicest ass I’d ever gotten my hands on.

  “Your ego is totally out of control, you know,” I told him.

  “Yeah?”

  I gasped when he cupped my breasts with both hands and twirled my nipples with his thumbs. “Yeah,” I managed to reply, arching into his palms. “Your...”

  “My what?” he asked thickly when his skillful fondling distracted me from finishing my sentence.