More than a Fling: A Romance Collection

by Quinn, Jillian

  I lose my breath along with my train of thought, and this time, for a different reason than the aching Ethan causes between my legs.

  “Did you just say a month?”

  He nods. “Yup, we heard back from the property manager this morning. The insurance company came out to assess the damage. Because of the amount of damage and the mold removal and testing they need to do, they’re telling us about three to four weeks.”

  “Let’s hope for three,” I deadpan.

  Ethan cups my knee, just like I used to do to him when we were kids, hanging out on the swing set in my backyard. “I wouldn’t count on it. You’re stuck with us for the next month.”

  “Lighten up, Mia,” Will says. “Come out with us tonight. Now that we’re roomies, you have to drink with us.”

  Ethan tugs at the sleeve of my sweater, making a strange face at me. “And you might want to leave your grandma’s clothes at home. Clubs downtown have dress codes. They won’t care how hot you are if you look like you knit the clothes you’re wearing.”

  “Dude, did you just tell my sister she’s hot?” Will leans forward, his hands folded in front of him, and looks over at Ethan, annoyed. “Stop hitting on my sister.”

  I push my hands out at my sides to silence them. “There’s already too much testosterone in this room as it is. Let’s not get into a fight, boys.”

  “I’d be less hostile if he would take his hand off your leg,” Will growls. His eyes are honed in on Ethan’s hand, and I want to die for not telling him to remove it sooner.

  Ethan moves his hand, the loss of his heat making me want him more. He must be thinking the same thing because I can see the need in his eyes. Well, that’s not going to happen. At least not on Will’s watch. When it comes to my brother, he would put a chastity belt on me if he could.

  “Start with me,” Will says, with anger still in his voice.

  I cross my leg over the other and spin my chair so that I’m facing Will. With my back turned to Ethan, I can breathe a little easier. Being under his microscope was driving me insane.

  “What is there to know about you that I don’t already? You’re my brother, the starting right winger for the Flyers, and you ended the regular season with sixty-one points.”

  Will gives me an amused smile. “You did your homework on me, huh?”

  I nod. “It’s part of my job. I read everyone’s bio and stats before I left the office.”

  “You always do more work than you need.” Will crosses his arms across his chest. “My sister, the book nerd.”

  “Don’t mock the photographic memory, hockey boy.” I laugh, as does Will. “Moving on. I know your stats, position, all the basics. I even know why you started playing hockey. We can skip the usual crap.”

  “No one has ever written that story about me, you know. I told a few reporters about how Pop Pop used to take us ice skating when we were kids and how he gave me my first hockey stick. All they cared about was who I was dating and if I had any skeletons in my closet.”

  “As a journalist, I can tell you that would bore the readers to death. Only hardcore fans care about your personal life and why you started playing hockey. I’d want to write about scandals, puck bunnies, baby mama drama, you know, the fun stuff.”

  “I wouldn’t call that fun,” Ethan says to my left, his gravelly voice forcing me to look at him as he speaks. “Our personal lives aren’t something for reporters to go digging through to sell papers.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that, Waters. Don’t get your boxers twisted. I was just saying that juicy personal stuff is what sells newspapers.”

  “It’s how you said it as if you’re chomping at the bit to find some dirt on us to print.”

  “There’s not much to cover for you. Sex and hockey, rinse and repeat. Oh, and the occasional binge drinking. Did I forget something?”

  “There’s more to me than hockey,” he spits back, defensive.

  I shoot an arrogant smile in his direction. “I don’t doubt that. Care to answer the question I asked you earlier?”

  Ethan grinds his teeth together, clamping his mouth shut.

  “Didn’t think so,” I mutter.

  The man sitting next to me is the reason I had pursued journalism in college. For years, I’d scoured the Internet in search of answers. Why did Ethan leave? I never found any records for his so-called hockey camp that he was at ten years ago. In fact, I couldn’t find a second record for him while he was gone. It was as if Ethan Waters had vanished into thin air. One day, about three years ago, I thought I’d stumbled upon something worth investigating. It turns out it was another one of my dead-end leads.

  I found one thing. A story about his twin brother and the accident that shocked his entire high school. The details in the local papers were limited, most likely silenced by his family’s money. He never once mentioned he had a brother. I’m not even sure if Will knows.

  “If you don’t want to give me something worth writing,” I tell Ethan, “then I guess I will make something up. Maybe a secret baby or something juicy.” I laugh to let him know that I’m joking.

  Ethan shakes his head at me, pissed off. “You will pay for that later.”

  “Ooh, I’m shaking.” I throw my hands up in the air. “You have no power over me.”

  “When you’re least expecting it, just you wait and see.” He gives me a devilish grin, reminding me of when he played a prank on me when we were kids.

  “I know your rubber spider joke, so don’t even think that will work this time.”

  “Nah, I have something better in mind. The spiders were Will’s idea not mine.”

  I push my chair out from the table so that I can get a better look at Ethan and Will. “To save time, I’m going to throw questions out there, and whoever answers first wins.” I chuckle as I remove the tape recorder from my messenger bag and hit record. “What are your plans for the off-season?”

  Ethan and Will start talking at the same time, their voices drowning out the other. I sink into the plush leather chair and let them take turns answering my questions, all while daydreaming about Ethan.

  I’m so screwed.

  Chapter Eight

  Ethan

  My personal life is off-limits. Even Will doesn’t know why I left after high school graduation or why it took me five years to come back to Philadelphia. When it comes to my family, there’s nothing but drama. At least my father isn’t around anymore to torment me. Our lives are simpler now that he’s gone, but his absence doesn’t take away the rest of my pain, the constant nagging that brews inside my chest on a daily basis.

  After the interview ends, I leave the Wells Fargo Center with Will, pulling my collar up when the cold touches my neck. It’s still bitter in Philly, a little colder than what I’ve become accustomed to over the years of living in the city.

  “We should do something nice for Mia.” Will holds up the key fob in his hand and clicks the button to unlock the doors. “Why don’t we stop by the grocery store on the way back to her place so we can make her dinner?”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “You don’t know how to cook.”

  He opens the door to his black BMW M2 and looks across the hood at me. “Maybe not but you do.”

  I shake my head at him. “Bastard.”

  “Hey, you wanted to stay with my sister. The least you can do is show off those culinary skills while you’re crashing on her couch.”

  We get inside the car, and Will pushes the button for the ignition, a steady stream of cold air blowing through the vents.

  “It wasn’t my idea to stay with her,” I counter, getting comfortable in my chair.

  These stupid racing seats are not meant for men who are six foot four and weigh two hundred twenty pounds. I stretch out my legs and buckle my seat belt.

  “You asked me to call Mia. My first thought was to rent a hotel room for the night, but you had a hard-on to stay with Mia.”

  I cross my arms over my chest, annoyed. “That’s not how it
went down. I only suggested you call her so we could meet up with those girls without having to deal with moving our shit. We were both tired from being on the road. Don’t act like you wanted to bother with any of it.”

  Will drives off the lot at the Wells Fargo Center and heads toward Broad Street. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter where we sleep, anyway. Since we don’t have to work, you can cook for us tonight. Knowing Mia, she won’t eat unless we fill her fridge with food.”

  “She has always been stubborn.”

  “She gets it from our mom,” Will says, as he crosses Broad Street.

  “Where are we going? The supermarket is in the opposite direction.”

  “I’m stopping at the butcher. Mia likes the veal from the Italian place over here.”

  “I take it I’m making veal Parm for dinner.”

  He nods. “Mia will love it. She’s getting too skinny. She needs a decent meal. I think she lives off bags of junk food, tap water, and the free coffee she gets from work.”

  I feel this odd sense of responsibility for Mia. If my circumstances had been different ten years ago, I would have taken care of her. I wouldn’t have run away to deal with the mess I’d made. Now, she hates me. I can’t say that I blame her one bit. I would hate me, too. And I deserve every ounce of Mia’s anger.

  I glance out the window as we drive through South Philly. “We shouldn’t go out tonight. I still have a hangover.”

  “Since when do you turn down a chance to party? You don’t have to drink. We have to get my sister out of the house. If Mia’s not working, she sits at home and watches movies or reads old newspaper articles. That’s not normal for someone her age.”

  “No, that’s definitely not normal. But Mia is a big girl. She can take care of herself.”

  Will parallel parks in front of a butcher shop and turns off the engine. He glances over at me, frustrated not with me but with his sister. “You saw for yourself how well she’s taking care of herself. Her job pays shit, and she refuses to take any money from me. That girl has too much pride. The least we can do while we’re staying with her is feed her and show her a good time.”

  I could show her a good time all right.

  “Don’t do that.” Will points at me with a disapproving expression on his face. “You have that creepy look about you like you’re up to no good.”

  I want his sister under me, on top of me, on her knees, and in my bed. Yeah, I’d say that counts as being up to no good. Will would kill me for having these thoughts about Mia, but I can control myself. Maybe staying with her was a horrible idea. We should find another place to live. But maybe this is a fresh start for Mia and me. There are a whole lot of maybes in my head.

  “Nope.” I wink. “I’m down with the plan. Let’s show Mia some fun.”

  * * *

  Unlike my luxury apartment that overlooks the Camden Waterfront, Mia’s place is a three-floor walk-up in the middle of Center City. The entire building smells of the Chinese food that wafts up the stairs from the restaurant on the ground floor, mixing with the delicious scent of my Italian cooking.

  As I open the oven door to check on the veal, I hear Mia drop her keys in the hallway, cursing to herself. I can’t help but laugh.

  A few seconds later, Mia comes crashing through the front door and throws the grungy looking messenger bag she carries everywhere on the floor.

  She tips her nose up to the ceiling, her eyes wide as she glances over at me. “You’re cooking dinner? Wow!”

  “Why do you seem so surprised?”

  “I had no idea you still cooked. I figured by now you would have a personal chef make your meals since you’re rich.”

  She walks into the kitchen and hops up on the counter, surveying my body. Either she doesn’t care that she’s blatantly checking me out or she doesn’t realize she’s doing it. Will would have a stroke if he saw the way we are looking at each other right now.

  “I’m full of surprises, Princess.” I wink at her and then turn around to stir the sauce in the pot.

  The scent of herbs and spices assaults my senses, causing my stomach to growl. All I had to eat was the mini sandwiches the team had laid out for the interview.

  Mia scoots closer to the stove and looks down at the stove. “It smells amazing. I can’t even remember the last time I had food that didn’t come from a bag or the Chinese place downstairs.”

  “I figured as much. This dinner was Will’s idea. You can thank him for taking pity on you.”

  She snorts. “I don’t want your sympathy. I live the way I do by choice, thank you very much. Food is overrated and so are hot men who can cook.”

  “Don’t let Will hear you say that.” I raise the wooden spoon from the pot and blow on it before putting it in front of Mia’s mouth. “Taste it.”

  At first, she seems apprehensive, but she follows my order. Good girl.

  “Mmm…This is amazing.” Mia licks the remaining specks of sauce from her lips.

  She draws more of my attention to her mouth, her tongue, and her luscious lips. Then, I start thinking of what her lips would feel like wrapped around my cock and have to stop myself from getting a boner in her kitchen. With Will in the shower and only ten feet away from us, I have to keep my head in the game.

  Mia leans forward with her eyes fixed on me. “So, what are you making me?”

  “Spaghetti, veal Parm, and fresh garlic bread.”

  She smiles so wide that my expression mirrors her, my cheeks hurting from how much I’m smiling.

  “Ethan Waters made me dinner. I’ve never had a man make a meal for me.”

  “Don’t read too much into it.”

  “Still, this has got to be a big deal for you. My co-worker will flip out when I tell her about this. I think she has a crush on you.”

  “Most women do,” I deadpan.

  She laughs and points a finger at her chest. “Not this one.”

  I drop the spoon on the stove and pull her thighs apart so that I can move between them. Sliding my hands up her legs, I take my time, careful not to take things too far. I lean forward and place my palms on the counter on both sides of Mia, laughing on the inside as she sucks in a deep breath. She holds it and waits for what seems like a minute to exhale.

  Even beneath her sweater, I can see her nipples harden, the tiny buds poking through the thin fabric. If I had to guess, her panties are wet right now. She’s close to panting when I move closer as if I’m going to kiss her. I consider making a move until the bathroom door opens, banging against the wall in the process.

  Will pads down the hall and closes the spare bedroom door behind him. Thankfully, he didn’t catch us. I was so close to following through on what I had left unfinished years ago.

  I want her. I need her. But I can’t have her.

  I bend down and whisper into her ear, my breath on her skin causing her body to tense up. “You were saying, Princess.”

  We engage in a staring contest, my dick getting harder as she brushes her fingers down my arm. She rolls her tongue over her bottom lip so slowly that I can’t stop myself from mimicking her movements.

  “I think your sauce is burning,” Mia says, tilting her head to the saucepan that’s bubbling over.

  I grab the wooden spoon from the cooktop, lift the rattling lid, and stir the sauce until it simmers down.

  “You’re too distracting,” I confess, removing the spaghetti and sauce from the hot burners. “Can you do me a favor and set the table? It’s time to eat.”

  Mia slides off the counter and bumps into the spoon in my hand, splashing sauce down the front of my shirt. She grips my shirt in her hands, staring down at the stains with her mouth wide open.

  “I’m so sorry, Ethan.” She wets a dishtowel and dabs at the spots. “Let me fix it. I can get this out for you. Take your shirt off.”

  “You know there are other ways to get me naked,” I whisper into her ear, so low there’s no way Will can hear me.

  Mia stills, barely breathing.


  “Is it time to eat yet or what?” Will comes up from behind us and pulls out a chair at the four-seater kitchen table, the legs scratching loudly on the tile.

  “Almost.” I begin unbuttoning my shirt, and Mia attempts to help me, our fingers colliding at the same time. Her touch sends a prick of electricity along my skin.

  “Good.” Will stares down at the cell phone in his hand, laughing at whatever’s on the screen. “Hurry up, Chef Boyardee. I’m fucking starving.”

  I ignore Will’s comment.

  Ever since we moved into the apartment together, I have done all the cooking. Will does the cleaning even though he’s shitty at it. Our arrangement works for us, but living together with Mia is another story. Part of me feels as though I’m a horrible friend for wanting to fuck Mia. I guess I am. I have always harbored guilt over wanting Mia.

  But is it that wrong to have these desires for Mia? She’s beautiful, smart, strong-willed, and passionate. What man wouldn’t want her? I’d be a fool not to. The fact she’s still single amazes me. If I could, I would be with Mia in a heartbeat.

  Staring into each other’s eyes, we both suck in a deep breath and let it out. With Will two feet away from us, we have to break away from each other. Mia doesn’t seem to grasp the concept of her being my best friend’s younger sister. Or maybe she does and could care less. The hormones in the room are too strong for either of us deny. So, I make the first move and step back from Mia, shaking her hands-free from the buttons.

  Mia turns on her heel, as if embarrassed. It’s not until I see her move in the direction of the laundry room that I realize she wants me to follow her.

  “I have to change my shirt,” I tell Will. “Give me a few, and then we’ll eat.”

  He nods, preoccupied with the message he’s typing out on his phone. “Sounds good, man.”

  Being in the same room with Mia and Will, the room feels small, too crowded. Even though I shouldn’t like Mia, I do. A long time ago, I shared a part of myself with Mia. I was so close to telling her the reason I moved back to Boston until my father ordered me to leave right after my graduation party. I keep parts of my life hidden from the world, some of them buried so deep even the reporters haven’t discovered the truth.