Starling

by Virginia Taylor

  Set painters could be anyone—male or female, old or young, ultra-serious, control freaks, or dreadlocked posers. Not often did he get assigned to a beautiful woman who looked as interested in messing around as he was. He didn’t have the time for a relationship, but he could fit in a casual affair that lasted the length of the production, and he could certainly handle one with a golden man-toy. He’d been blatant about his attraction to her, and he’d intimated that a sweaty night would be had by all if she accompanied him home.

  The dazzling smile she gave him in response hit him like a punch to the head. He’d seen that smile before. Only last year, when skimming the newspaper, he’d noted a photograph of the Nolans, plain, plump Victoria with her incredible smile and her older husband, Timothy, architect and millionaire entrepreneur.

  Jay ran his fingers over the scar on his cheek, a memento from her husband.

  For at least a year, he’d thought about revenge on Timmy-boy. Although Jay was visibly scarred, he’d never been handsome. Nor did he make his living out of his looks. Bygones had been bygones, but knowing she was Tim’s ex added to her appeal. In fact, he’d seen screwing her as some sort of compensation for having his future screwed by Tim. His dick had largely guided these self-serving thoughts.

  Now, although still influenced by a keen body part, he found he couldn’t use Vix in an act of silent revenge. Perhaps if she had been the woman he’d always assumed she was, a rich bitch with haughty opinions, he wouldn’t have changed sides, but a sophisticated man-toy she was not. Instead, she was bright and wryly funny, both of which he found more sexually stimulating than a bored divorcée looking for a night on the wild side.

  Crap! He couldn’t knock back a woman with so little confidence in herself. If he had her, he would be all kinds of a heel. If he didn’t, he would be all kinds of a fool.

  He massaged the back of his neck, undecided.

  Finally, he eked out a breath, opened the cabinet door, and glumly reached for a condom. This had to be his unluckiest night in his whole misbegotten life.