It took thirty-five more seconds for the damn elevator to make its way to the—she squinted at the floor marker above the “Down” arrow—the tenth floor.
Thank God there was no one in the elevator. She didn’t need witnesses to her walk of shame.
God, wouldn’t Jeff be shocked to see her now? “Sexually boring and uninspiring” was what he’d said to explain the affair—among others—but this walk of shame negated those.
She couldn’t believe it. Thirty-years-old with her own up-and-coming bakery, yet one too many shots at her college roommate’s bachelorette party had her picking up some random guy for a night of uninhibited monkey sex to soothe her smashed-to-smithereens ego from an ex who didn’t deserve the time of day let alone this kind of prove-him-wrong strategy.
It had been uninhibited monkey sex, right?
She closed her eyes and tried to conjure up an image, but the last thing she could remember was jitterbugging on the dance floor.
She didn’t know how to jitterbug. But, apparently, that hadn’t stopped her.
Oh, God, her head. And her stomach. And that cotton mouth thing…
The bell dinged as the elevator arrived at the second floor. She fumbled for her room key and stumbled out into a blessedly empty hallway. Her room was down a few doors, and thankfully she’d decided to forego a roommate on this trip.
Well, a regular roommate.
Who was the guy? She didn’t even remember what he looked like, let alone his name.
She groaned as she made it into her hotel room. How bad was it that the only recallable part of him was his bare naked ass and that she only remembered because she’d seen it on her way out the door?
She peeled the dress off her body—it’d been on backwards—and headed into the bathroom. Shower, breakfast, and a big glass of orange juice, then she could grab her car and get the hell out of Dodge so she wouldn’t have to risk running into her biggest regret anytime soon.
But the question was: what was her regret for? That she’d picked him up in the first place, or that she couldn’t remember a damn thing about what had come after?
***
Gage ran the towel through his hair, then wrapped it around his hips. Didn’t want to shock Sleeping Beauty out there with nudity upon opening her gorgeous eyes.
He caught his smile in the mirror. Yeah, it was wolfish, but why shouldn’t it be? He’d ended up with the most gorgeous woman at the party, and that included the bride-to-be.
Of course, he’d broken his own rules to do so—no partying with the patrons—but she’d walked in and knocked him sideways.
It’d be funny, really, if it weren’t so, well, not. He never went for short, dark, and curvy. Model-thin bombshells were more his type. At least, they had been. But then she’d walked in, her curves making his palms sweat, her curls begging for his fingers to dive in and hold on, and those chocolate brown eyes... They’d screamed bedroom so loudly they’d almost drowned out the music, and he’d had a hard time keeping his mind on the show.
Thank God the guys knew their shit. Markus had known it a little too well; he’d been focused on Lara from the first bump-and-grind number.
Luckily, no one had questioned the quick change-up in routines he’d made so that Markus was off stage until the middle of the second act.
By then, the shots that’d been flowing around that table had insured Lara’s interest had no longer been solely on Markus.
That’s when he’d made his move.
Made his move. Gage groaned. What was he—twenty? He never had to make moves; women flocked to him.
But she’d been wedged in the corner of her booth, surrounded by friends, staring at the stage, and hadn’t looked like she was going to get out anytime soon.
He grabbed his toothbrush. He should have moved sooner. Then maybe she wouldn’t have done those last two shots. The woman was a lightweight. She’d made it to the hotel elevator and had literally passed out in his arms. It’d put a damper on his evening, but not his libido.
He just hoped she was more awake this morning.
He finished brushing his teeth and poured a glass of water. She was going to need it and it’d give him the excuse to sit beside her.
And hopefully do much more.
He opened the door softly. He wanted to be the one to wake her, not the noise or the light from the bathroom.
Except… she was gone.
He slumped against the doorframe. Served him right. He played to the fantasies of hundreds of women every weekend, but the one whose fantasy he’d personally wanted to grant apparently had no interest in letting him.
Chapter One
He had a son.
Bryan Lassiter stood at the end of the grocery store aisle and stared at the little boy three feet in front of him.
The curly black hair was the same, including the identical cowlick above the right eye that drooped a little lower than the left, and the same dimple in his right cheek. The eyes, too, were the same. Those damned, cursed violet eyes that Bryan had hated ever since Julie Richardson had called them pretty in first grade. Him and Elizabeth Taylor.
And now this boy.
And if those weren’t enough, it was the birthmark on the kid’s arm that sealed the deal. Bry had the same one, shaped like a five-pointed star with a rounded tip on the bottom right spoke. Bryan had eventually had a tattoo put on top of it—in the shape of a star—but it was the same.
He had a son.
“Trevor? Where are you?” A pretty brunette rushed around the end cap, worry etched across her face. It softened when she saw the boy—the exact opposite of Bryan’s reaction.
He didn’t know her.
Oh, he’d slept with a lot of women in his life, but he did pride himself on remembering what they’d looked like, no matter how drunk he’d been—
No. That wasn’t entirely true. Brad’s bachelor party had passed by in one drunken haze and there could have been a stripper involved…
Considering Brad’s party had been four years ago, and the kid looked to be about three or so… Yeah, it looked like it was more than possible, though he’d never been so drunk he hadn’t worn a condom.
Which have been known to break.
Hell. Given that the kid looked like every one of his baby pictures, one night of debauchery and bad luck could have led to him having a son.
“Sweetheart, I told you never to run away from Mommy. This isn’t the place to play hide-n-seek.”
Bryan’s eyes flew to “Mommy.” About five-six, with curly brown, chin-length hair that she kept tucking behind her ears but which wouldn’t stay, high cheekbones, and wide eyes—blue or gray, he couldn’t be sure. Graceful movements of a dancer that would be lost in a strip joint, but the legs that went on forever definitely wouldn’t be.
Had they been wrapped around him? Bryan felt himself grow hard just thinking about it.
But then he looked at Trevor and his whole body got hard. If that little boy was his, she’d kept him from him.
Did she even know who the father was?
“I sowwy, Mommy.” Trevor stuck his thumb in his mouth and Bryan was even more convinced the boy was his.
Lots of kids sucked their thumb, but it was the way Trevor played with his cowlick—just like Bryan had. Until his finger had gotten caught in the tangles and his older brother Kyle had laughed at him. Mom had had to cut his finger free and that spike of hair at the front of his head had been one more thing for Kyle to tease him about. It’d been the last time Bryan had sucked his thumb.
“Yes, well, you scared me, honey. I don’t want anyone to take you from me, okay? You have to stay with me.” Mommy knelt down and hugged Trevor, the action tugging her figure-hugging tan pants low in the back.
No tramp stamp, so at least he’d had some taste in women when he was drunk. Even strippers.
Bryan shook his head. He of all people shouldn’t judge her. He’d done some stripping in his day and now owned an exotic dance revue, BeefCake, Inc. But he an
d his partner Gage ran a classy business and No Fraternization was the top rule of the house. Too bad she hadn’t prescribed to the same rule.
“Why would someone take me, Mommy?” Trevor stopped twirling his hair with a lock swirled around his finger.
Mommy smoothed a ring-less left hand over Trevor’s hair, disengaging the tangled finger, then slid her palm down to cup his cheek. “Because you’re a very special boy, Trevor. That’s why I love you so much. So you need to stay with me at all times and not run away, okay? Even if you’re playing.”
Trevor nodded and Bryan felt as if he were looking in a mirror. “But why am I vewy special?”
She pulled him against her and kissed his cheek. “Because you’re my little guy.”
Bryan’s vantage point gave him the perfect view of the fierceness of her expression when she said it, the quick tightening of her bicep beneath the short sleeve of her t-shirt as she hugged him. She loved the kid. But obviously not enough to give him the father he deserved.
Bryan had half a mind to tell her that, but supermarket aisles weren’t exactly the best place for airing dirty laundry. He checked the time on his cell. An hour and a half until the meeting with Gage.
He slid his sunglasses on and pulled the baseball cap rim lower. He could hang around for a while. Follow her to see where she lived—and then plan when would be the best time to show up and discuss his fatherly rights.
Books by Judi Fennell
Find them here
The Tritone Trilogy
In Over Her Head
Wild Blue Under
Catch of a Lifetime
Making Waves anthology
Bottled Magic series
I Dream of Genies
Genie Knows Best
Magic Gone Wild
Your Wish Is His Command short story
Once-Upon-A-Time Romance series
Beauty and The Best
If The Shoe Fits (coming soon)
Fairest of Them All (coming soon)
BeefCake, Inc. series
Beefcake & Cupcakes
Beefcake & Mistakes
Beefcake & Retakes (coming soon)
About the Author
Judi Fennell has had her nose in a book and her head in some celestial realm all her life, including those early years when her mom would exhort her to “get outside!” instead of watching Bewitched or I Dream of Jeannie on television. So she did—right into Dad’s hammock with her Nancy Drew books.
These days she’s more likely to have her nose in her laptop and her head (and the rest of her) at a favorite writing spot, but she’s still reading either her latest manuscript or friends’ books.
A PRISM Award and Golden Leaf Award winner, Judi loves to hear from her readers. Connect with her at:
http://www.JudiFennell.com
http://www.JudiFennell.wordpress.com
www.facebook.com/#!/JudiFennell
www.facebook.com/#!/JudiFennell.Author
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