Why Not Tonight?

by Jacquie D’Alessandro

  “Right. And in the meanwhile, she’ll just screw lawyers. You two are perfect for each other.” She yanked open the front door. He moved as if he meant to grab her arm again and she shot him a look that could have incinerated raw meat.

  “What about my stuff that’s at your place?” Greg asked. “Can I come over tomorrow and get it?”

  Mallory couldn’t help but laugh. “Jeez, you’ve really got balls.” Her gaze flicked down to his crotch. “Hmm. Maybe not. Anyway, I don’t want you, or your stuff, in my house. I’ll box everything up and send it to you.”

  “All right. I’ll do the same for you.” His eyes narrowed. “You won’t wreck my clothes or CDs, will you?”

  “Clearly I need to point out that I am not the one behaving badly here. Besides, I wouldn’t waste my time or energy. I would, however, ask for your key to my house.” She started removing his house key from her ring.

  “Fine.” He stalked down the hallway toward his bedroom.

  “Do us both a favor and put on some pants,” she said sweetly.

  He entered the bedroom and Mallory heard Blondie ask, “Who the hell is she and what the hell is going on?”

  Mallory cleared her throat then called out loudly, “As for who the hell I am-I’m the girlfriend he’s had for the past eight months. He says he was going to tell me about you tomorrow, so maybe that’s when he was also going to tell you about me.” Mallory paused and smiled grimly at Melon Boobs’s gasp. “As for what the hell’s going on,” she continued, “Jerk-off’s putting on some pants, thank God, and getting me the key to my house, which I’d given him. As soon as it’s in my hand, he’s all yours.”

  Seconds later Greg strode from the bedroom-wearing pants, thank God-his expression resembling a thundercloud. Melon Boobs followed close on his heels, her ample assets barely covered by Greg’s dress shirt.

  Mallory held out her hand and Greg slapped her key into it. She then dropped his key into his outstretched palm.

  Melon Boobs shot Mallory a nasty glare. “He was all mine before he gave you back your key, honey.”

  “Uh-huh. And what a prize he is.” Mallory shook her head. “You know, Candy-”

  “Mandy,” the young woman said through clenched teeth.

  “-I actually feel sorry for you. This guy has proven himself to be nothing more than a lying, cheating bottom-feeder. I’m thinking you can do better. I know I can. But he’s your problem now. I wish you both luck.”

  Without a backward glance, she sailed through the doorway and quickly entered her car. Just get away, just get away, her inner voice chanted. At the end of the block, well out of sight of Greg’s house, she pulled into the strip mall on the corner and immediately parked at the far end of the lot, in front of an Italian bakery. Then she leaned her head back against the headrest, closed her eyes and forced herself to take slow, deep breaths.

  Good God, she was shaking. And even though she tried to will them away, hot tears leaked from beneath her eyelids and trailed down her cheeks. Damn it, she did not want to cry. She shoved the wetness aside with impatient fingers, but a fresh onslaught of tears spilled over.

  Had she ever been this angry? This humiliated? If so, she couldn’t recall. But she was more than angry-she was furious. At him. And herself. And that snarky, melon-boobed bimbo. But mostly him.

  That bastard! He’d not only cheated on her, he’d been cheating on her for months. How mortifying and degrading was that?

  But then anger at herself boiled over, washing everything else aside. This was the guy she’d believed steady? Stable? Dependable? How could she have been so stupid? So blind? Such a sap? So willing to go that extra mile to try to fix things between them? Even going so far as having those boudoir photos taken? Well, thank God she’d discovered the truth before she’d humiliated herself further by giving him those.

  At the thought of the pictures, an image of Adam rose behind her closed eyes, pushing a humorless laugh past her tight throat. How ironic that she’d felt so guilty about her attraction to Adam. Obviously she hadn’t needed to worry.

  Keeping her eyes closed, she sat perfectly still for several minutes, concentrating on her relaxing breathing techniques while gathering her scattered thoughts. When the tears stopped flowing and her heart rate had settled and she felt calmer, she took a detailed emotional inventory.

  Angry? Oh, yeah. Humiliated? Check. Self-disgust for being a trusting fool? Yup. Relieved?

  Yes.

  Her eyes popped open and she pulled the clip from her hair then tunneled her hands through the strands. Blowing out a long, slow breath, she continued. Hurt?

  Nope.

  Heartbroken?

  No way.

  And that irrevocably answered the “did she love Greg” question she hadn’t been able to answer earlier. Obviously she didn’t for if she did, she’d be devastated and brokenhearted instead of pissed. Which told her exactly how lucky she was to be rid of him. With her new twenty-twenty hindsight guiding her, she clearly saw that they’d been heading toward the end for months. Yes, it was a shame she’d given the relationship more time than it deserved, but she didn’t have to give it, or him, another thought.

  Still, even though he hadn’t crushed her heart, there unfortunately was still something about getting dumped for a not-even-old-enough-to-legally-drink Playboy-centerfold type that was pretty damaging to the ego. Damn. Her heart didn’t need a boost, but her trampled self-esteem definitely did.

  She considered calling Kellie, who she knew would happily spend the evening wallowing in an “I can’t believe that ass dumped such a great girl” Greg-bashing party, but that wasn’t what her bruised ego craved. And a rented movie and Thai takeout wouldn’t do the trick, either.

  No, her wounded pride demanded that she feel desirable. Wanted. Attractive. Sexy.

  And she knew exactly the man for the job.

  5

  Saturday, 6:00 p.m.

  ADAM SAT BEHIND the computer at Picture This and typed in order number after order number, slowly working his way through the stack of invoices piled on Nick’s desk. For every big party, such as a wedding, at least four hundred proofs were taken. Each proof was numbered and from them various-size prints and albums were made up for the bride and groom, their families and friends. Based on the number of invoices and orders in the in-box, Nick’s business was booming. Weddings, anniversary parties, christenings, bar mitzvahs, sweet sixteens, graduations, private sittings-with more jobs being booked every day.

  He’d just completed another invoice when a light tapping sound had him looking up and he stilled-except for his heart, which seemed to stumble over itself.

  Mallory stood outside the front glass door, which Adam had locked when Nick left an hour earlier. He jumped to his feet and strode quickly across the tiled floor.

  “Hi,” he said, pulling the door inward. “C’mon in.” His smile faded when he saw her pale face and what looked like red-rimmed eyes. “You okay?”

  “Yes,” she said, brushing past him to enter. His body tensed at that brief contact and he pretended he hadn’t felt it. Or caught a whiff of her light, flowery fragrance. Gritting his teeth, he kept his back to her and spent a few extra seconds relocking the door, telling himself to get a grip. He shouldn’t be so thrown off balance just because she’d stopped by. Probably she just wanted some more prints made of her photos. For what’s-his-name.

  But when he turned around, she threw him off kilter again. She stood less than two feet away, looking at him with an expression he couldn’t read, but one that set his blood on fire. And then she blew him right out of the water by stepping forward, pressing herself against him and tunneling her fingers through his hair. Then she lifted up on her toes, pulled his head toward hers and kissed him. Like she meant it.

  If all the blood hadn’t instantly drained from his head to settle in his groin, most likely he would have wondered what had brought this on. But anything that involved thinking was going to have to wait. His arms went around her, pul
ling her closer, tighter against him, and he deepened the kiss she’d initiated.

  She tasted exactly as he remembered. Delicious. Warm, sweet and seductive. Like melted chocolate. And felt exactly the same in his arms. Soft and curvy and feminine. A perfect fit. The erotic sensation of her tongue rubbing against his drove everything from his mind except for one single word that pounded through him with growing urgency.

  More.

  But before he could act upon it, she shifted gears again by breaking off their kiss. Splaying her hands against his chest, right over the spot where his heart was frantically trying to play catch-up, she leaned back in the circle of his arms. He noted with some satisfaction that her breathing sounded as labored as his. And she looked as bamboozled as he felt.

  Surely some words were called for, but with his liquefied brain still engulfed in a steamy fog of lust, speech was beyond him.

  Her palms glided over his chest, shooting another arrow of fiery want directly downward. His hands, which rested on her hips and kept her firmly anchored against him, involuntarily tightened.

  “Figured as much,” she said in a voice that sounded like rough velvet.

  There was no doubt what she meant-that the heat they’d just generated came as no surprise to her-but damn, he was impressed she could form a coherent sentence. He wasn’t there yet, so he just nodded. At least he thought he nodded. He meant to.

  “I was afraid you might have already left. I’m glad you were still here.”

  He swallowed twice and managed to find his voice. “Yeah. Me, too.” Damn glad.

  But then his gaze searched her face, confirming what he’d thought he’d seen before she’d deep-fried all his synapses. His gut clenched at the sight of her red-rimmed, slightly swollen eyes and coherency returned with a thump. “You’ve been crying.”

  “How do you know that?”

  He lifted one hand and gently brushed a fingertip under her eye. “Through a wondrous process called ‘sight.’” And given the way she’d greeted him, there was no doubt in his mind that whatever was wrong had to do with her boyfriend. “What happened?”

  She gently pushed against his chest and he let her go, watching in silence while she put several feet between them and drew a deep breath. Then she offered him a half smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “You told me that if things didn’t work out with Greg, I should give you a call. Since I was in the neighborhood, I thought I’d stop by instead.”

  Just as he’d thought. A breakup with the boyfriend. While he couldn’t deny part of him was glad, he hated to see the evidence that she’d cried. And even as his heart pounded with anticipation, his common sense issued a stern warning to proceed with caution. Clearly she’d had a fight with what’s-his-name. While Adam was glad she’d turned to him and he was happy to offer his friendship, he didn’t relish getting caught in the crossfire and left bleeding should she and the boyfriend make up.

  After firmly telling his heart-and his fully aroused hormones-to chill out, he reached out and took her hand then led her toward the corner waiting area where a sofa, two comfy chairs and a coffee table were located. “Let’s sit down for a minute.” After she’d settled herself on the sofa, he pulled up one of the chairs to sit facing her. “Okay, tell me what happened.”

  She stared at her hands, which plucked at the handle of her purse. “Do you know the three words you most don’t want to hear while you’re making love?” When he shook his head, she looked up and said, “Honey, I’m home.”

  A spurt of white-hot fury roared through Adam. The damn bastard had cheated on her. Not only did that infuriate him, but he could only shake his head in stunned disbelief. How could any guy possibly be so stupid? To have a woman like Mallory then lose her-

  Hey, nine years ago you were that stupid guy, his inner voice reminded him.

  Well, yeah, he’d been stupid-but out of fear. He sure as hell hadn’t cheated on her. How could any guy who had Mallory in his bed want anyone else?

  Reaching out, he clasped both her hands and squeezed. “I’m sorry something so hurtful happened to you, sweetheart.”

  “Thanks.” She blew out slow breath. “It was a pretty shocking-and unappealing-sight, let me tell you. And the woman he was with…” She made an exclamation of disgust. “Give me a break. She’s a twenty-year-old lawyer wannabe with badly bleached hair and a boob job that looks as if she used Velcro to stick two cantaloupes to her chest. They’re in luuuuuv.” Her upper lip curled à la Elvis Presley. “You might want to move back. I think I’m gonna hack up a hair ball.”

  He brushed the pads of his thumbs over the soft backs of her hands. “I’ll take my chances.”

  A sound that resembled a growl rumbled in her throat and she abruptly stood. Her hands slid from his and she paced in front of him. “I won’t bore you with the details, but suffice it to say things weren’t going all that well between me and Greg for the last few months. I blamed most of it on our hectic schedules, although I was coming to realize that we didn’t have as much in common as I’d originally thought. And that those differences were really…irritating. Of course, I wasn’t aware that there were three of us in the equation. I’m certainly glad I found out now as opposed to later.”

  “Did you…do you love him?”

  She halted and turned to face him. “I wasn’t sure exactly what my feelings were before, but now I am, and the answer is a definite no. But I cared for him. Enough to give the relationship some more time and effort. Still, there was always something lacking between us-especially recently. Of course, any caring I may have had is now well and truly extinguished. I just wish I didn’t have the visual in my head of him and Melon Boobs together.”

  She resumed her pacing and he sat quietly, letting her gather her thoughts. Finally she continued, “It’s not that I’m heartbroken. Far from it. I’m actually relieved. But damn it, I’m angry. At him for being such a lying cheat, but mostly at myself for hanging in there way too long. For believing he was the sort of stable, steady, dependable guy I was looking for. For being so stupid.”

  He snagged her hand as she walked by him, then rose to stand in front of her, biting down his own anger at the bastard who had made her feel this way. After lightly clasping her by the shoulders, he looked directly into her eyes and said, “You are not stupid, Mallory. You did nothing wrong.”

  “I was too trusting.”

  “You were lied to. That isn’t in any way a reflection on your character. The fact that you were willing to go the extra mile for a relationship shows the sort of person you are. You’re loyal. You have integrity. And you’re not a quitter.”

  Her chin quivered and she gave him a shaky smile. “You’re making me feel much better.”

  “I’m glad. But you should feel good. Even though the circumstances were crappy, look at it this way-you were just freed from a relationship that, based on the facts that you feel relieved and didn’t love him, you obviously no longer wanted to be involved in anyway.”

  “You’re right. I know. It’s just that it’s so discouraging to be tossed over for someone who looks as if she just breezed into town between Playboy centerfold modeling assignments.”

  “There’s absolutely no reason for you to be discouraged. Clearly the guy is an ass. And supremely foolish. And unbelievably blind.”

  Unmistakable gratitude flickered in her eyes. “Well, thanks. I appreciate the outrage on my behalf. But jeez, the guy is a thirty-four-year-old Ivy League graduate. You’d think he’d at least have the sense, the taste to dump me for someone who’s old enough to buy her own beer and who has more going for her than an enormous pair of fake knockers.” She heaved a sigh. “But maybe she’s very nice.”

  He tucked a stray silky dark curl behind her ear. “Not as nice as you.”

  “And really smart.”

  “Not as smart as you.”

  “Probably she’s prettier than I thought-I wasn’t exactly concentrating on her face.”

  “She couldn’t possibly be prettier
than you.”

  Her lips twitched. “You know, you’re really doing an outstanding job soothing my wounded ego.”

  “Good.” His gaze searched hers. “So that’s what that kiss was about. An ego stroke.”

  A rosy blush stained her cheeks. “I guess I needed a little reassurance that I wasn’t a troll.” Doubt flickered in her eyes. “You’re not angry with me, are you?”

  “Angry? At being kissed by a gorgeous sexy woman? A kiss that made me feel like you’d tossed me into an oven and hit Broil? Hell, no. But surely it was obvious that anger was not my reaction at all.” He cupped her face in his hands and stroked his thumbs over her smooth cheeks. “Consider me more than willing to give you all the reassurance you need.”

  Whoa, hold on there, dude, his inner voice yelled. What are you saying? Have you forgotten why Mallory isn’t right for you?

  No, he hadn’t forgotten. He’d just…reassessed. Just because she was a “forever” sort of gal didn’t mean she had to be his forever gal. Just because she was the kind of woman who could wreak havoc with a guy’s travel plans, didn’t mean he’d let her mess up his plans-again. If she wanted an ego-stroking fling, hell, who better for the job than Bachelor Number One?

  Besides, it wasn’t as if anything could come of this. He’d just be the rebound guy. Everybody knew Rebound Guy never ended up being permanent. Which, given the fact that he was leaving for Europe the day after tomorrow, made their timing perfect-a first for them.

  “Hmm. Reassuring me…” she repeated. “I might just take you up on that offer.”

  “Might? I guess I’ll just have to see what it’ll take to change that ‘might’ into a definite.” Another wash of color stole over her cheeks and he brushed his thumbs over that enticing blush. “Here’s something that should help reassure you. Our lunch today? An exercise in torture. You have no idea the enormous amount of self-control it required not to touch you. Kiss you.”

  “You did touch me. You did kiss me.”