My Sexiest Mistake

by Kristin Hardy

  Becka gave her a rueful grin. “You tell me, girlfriend.”

  “So how far are we going today?”

  “Three miles.”

  “Three?” Ryan squeaked in horror. “Running season just started. Cut me some slack here, we don’t all live in the gym during the winter.” Ryan was sure that her voice sounded almost entirely unlike a whine.

  “You can do it.” Becka was barely winded from their current pace. “It’s penance for canceling on Wednesday.”

  An image of standing naked in front of the windows with her fingers tangled in Cade’s hair flashed into Ryan’s mind. Her mouth went dry. Then she remembered the other half of the story and tightened her jaw.

  “You’re looking mighty grim. Don’t tell me you’re getting grief at work?”

  “No, work’s fine.” It was the play that had her tied up in knots. “Barry’s being a pain over some deal he’s cooking up, but the rest of it’s the same old same old.”

  Becka shot her a penetrating look. “Come on, Ryan, talk to me. We’ve been friends too long for you to pull this loner stuff.”

  Ryan ran in silence for a few more paces, working up her nerve. “The new book’s almost done. It’s a big deal. If they like it, I’m contracted for three more and Helene thinks she can close on another multibook package at a different publishing house. Basically, if I get this one right, I can afford to quit and write full-time.”

  “Quit teaching conflict resolution for kindergartners? How will you ever stand it?”

  “You know how much I want this, Becka.” Ryan hesitated. The next part was the hard bit. “The problem is, it’s a lot more explicit than anything else I’ve written before and I’m having problems with the love scenes. I know I have to get this done and it’s got to be good, but every time I’ve tried to sit down at the computer, nothing’s come out. Helene told me I needed inspiration that was a little more concrete. So to speak.”

  “She set you up with a one-night stand?” Becka guessed.

  “Not exactly.” Ryan swallowed. “She set me up with a gigolo.”

  “What?” Becka came to a dead stop in the middle of the trail and stared at her, goggle eyed.

  Ryan cringed. “Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time,” she said weakly.

  “Good? I think it was brilliant!” Becka clapped her on the back. “Honeybunch, you got laid! That’s the best, good for you.” She pulled Ryan back into a run. “Now tell me all about it, I want to hear everything.”

  Ryan felt a reluctant smile tug at the corners of her mouth and launched into her story, warming to the tale. Whether it was the endorphins and the metronomic thud of their footfalls or the release of telling the tale to another, Ryan felt her mood lightening. Hearing herself talk about meeting Cade, walking up to the room, feeling his hands on her for the first time, she was able to relish the sensations all over again. Then she got to Thursday morning and the moment it all changed.

  “So I’m sitting in my office all giddy and mushy and just about to call him like we’d planned when I see Helene’s on the line. She tells me the agency called her wondering what had happened because I hadn’t shown, and they were demanding their money.”

  “What do you mean, you never showed? You were there.”

  “That’s what I told her. They said I wasn’t.”

  Becka stared at her, eyes widening in comprehension. “Oh my god…”

  “Oh my god is right,” Ryan gasped. “We’ve got to walk, Becka, I’m dying.” Absorbed in their talk, they’d just kept running as one mile turned to three, then four, unnoticed. “How far have we gone?”

  Becka glanced at her sports watch. “Probably about four and a half miles, but don’t change the subject. You mean he…”

  “Is a lying snake? Exactly. He wasn’t the gigolo, he was just some guy waving to the waitress. My mistake. On the other hand, he didn’t bother to straighten me out. He deliberately lied to me.” Ryan felt the fury bubble up afresh. “God, it just fries me that I got taken in.” They walked several minutes in silence and gradually their cars came back into sight.

  “Well, how was it? Did you have fun?”

  Just thinking of it still gave her flutters in the pit of her stomach. “Fun doesn’t even come close. It was amazing.” She blushed. “Not that I’m much of a judge, but it pretty much left all my previous experience in the dust.”

  Becka stopped to stretch. “Mmm.” She bent until her forehead was against her knees. “Well all things considered, I’d say you came out of it pretty well.”

  Ryan stared at her. “Pretty well?” Her voice rose. “He lied to me. He jerked me around. He was a creep.” And she’d walk over hot coals before she’d admit that she still wanted him.

  “Well,” Becka said thoughtfully, “how much of a creep is a person who’d sleep with you for money? And fake like he’s enjoying it. At least this guy did it because he wanted you, not because he wanted the money.” She stretched her quads, pulling her leg up behind her ballerina style. “If he was breathing hard, you know it was because he was turned on, not because it was part of the act. Besides, this is actually something that could have a future. Granted, it could also be a one-night stand, but it’s not like a night with a gigolo is going to turn into true love, Richard Gere films to the contrary.” Becka bent from the waist and blew all her breath out, then straightened back up. “Come on, let’s walk over to the festival. I’ll buy you breakfast.”

  Bright colored bunting trailed from booth to booth, and Bob Marley played over the loudspeakers. The aromas of food from ethnic restaurants all over the city weaved around them. Becka, predictably, gravitated to the sound of blenders at a health-food stand and picked up a pair of protein shakes.

  “Can’t you ever just order an egg sandwich like a normal person?” Ryan asked in exasperation.

  “You’ll clog your arteries eating that kind of stuff. It’s poison.”

  “Oh, right, my body is a temple…”

  Becka gave her a sidelong glance. “The way you eat, it might be more like the bleachers at Fenway Park after a game.”

  Ryan sipped from the frothy, peach-colored concoction. She’d have suffered torture before admitting that it was good. They ambled aimlessly through the rows of vendors selling everything from New Age crystals to CDs.

  “So what happens now? You said he wanted to see you again.”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “So are you going to?”

  “Am I going to what?”

  Becka gave an impatient huff. “See him again.”

  “Oh, that. I already did.” Against all odds, Ryan was enjoying herself. A table of brightly colored sunglasses caught her eye and she drifted to a stop. “We met at the Beacon Hill Hotel Thursday night.”

  “Everything’s half off,” said the woman behind the table. “All UV protected and scratch resistant, too.”

  “The Beacon Hill Hotel, no less. Don’t you live the luxe life.” Becka picked up a hand mirror to admire herself in a pair of black cat’s-eye sunglasses with rhinestones. “I’ve heard the rooms in that place are filled with antiques.”

  “Not to mention four-poster beds, which comes in handy when you want to give someone a little talking to.” Ryan said with relish.

  “Four-poster be…” Becka gave a startled laugh. “Girlfriend, what did you do to that poor man?”

  “I just wanted to be sure I had his full attention, so I made sure he couldn’t get up and walk away…or move a whole lot,” Ryan said innocently.

  A siren sounded out on the street. “Oh my god,” Becka said in a low voice. “You killed him and that’s the cops coming to get you.”

  “Oh, no, I’m quite sure he was fine. I mean, he was groaning and panting a little while we were, um, talking, but I’m almost sure he was having a good time. I had him all undressed with nowhere to go. I figured I might as well get some use out of him.” She gave a bawdy wink.

  Becka pulled the glasses down on her nose and stared. “You tied up a ma
n you hardly know in a hotel room and used him as a sex toy?” she burst out. The woman sitting behind the table choked on her coffee.

  “Sorry,” Ryan said hastily, setting Becka’s glasses on the table and yanking her along. “Can you say it a little louder next time?” she hissed.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m just trying to keep up here.” Laughter burbled in Becka’s voice. “You haven’t slept with a guy since you were what, twenty-two, and now you’re into bondage?”

  “Hey, with my record who knows how long it’ll be before I have sex again. I figured I’d already been jerked around. I might as well get something for my time.”

  “You’re too much.”

  “Wait until you hear about the suit,” Ryan said smugly. All in all, it made a pretty good story, she thought sometime later. She hadn’t seen Becka laugh so hard that things came out her nose since they were in second grade, and that time it was milk, not frothy peach smoothie.

  “Is your friend all right?” asked a passerby.

  “She’s fine, just a little overexcited,” said Ryan, patting Becka on the back solicitously.

  “Oh,” Becka gasped, holding her stomach. “That poor guy, what he must have thought. Here’s the Wicked Witch of the East on a tear and he’s totally helpless.” She giggled again as they wandered over to sit on a stone bench overlooking the river. “So I’m thinking that’s the last we’re going to see of Mr. Douglas. What about you, though. Are you okay? I mean, it’s a great story but it must have been a pretty intense week for you.”

  “Well, I guess I’m…” To Ryan’s horror, her voice broke. Becka rubbed her back sympathetically. “I don’t know why I’m doing this,” Ryan said, blinking back tears. “It’s not like I was expecting anything from a gigolo.”

  “Oh Ryan, you’re a romantic. You write sweetheart novels, for god’s sake.” Becka blew out a breath. “Helene was looking out for your best interests as a writer, but you were both out of your minds to think that you could sleep with a guy without getting emotionally involved. Especially when it’s the first guy you’ve slept with in, what, seven years?”

  “Eight,” Ryan said weakly. Out on the river, a pair of sculls raced toward the Harvard bridge, oars skimming over the water, the cries of the coxswains floating across to the bank. “You know, the bad part is I really liked him. And he said the same thing about me. Though admittedly he was tied up and at my mercy at the time.”

  “I suppose that might make his comments just a teensy bit suspect,” Becka allowed. “On the other hand, he could very well have meant them. You’re good company, you know. And while you may not believe it, you’re a babe when you want to be.”

  “Oh yeah, that’s me, fighting them off,” Ryan said dryly. “Come on, Becka, you know guys look right through me.”

  “Because you tune them out. You dress in baggy clothes and you’re always rushing around in a hurry.” Becka tipped her head consideringly. “Let me guess, when you teach a class, you either skip out at lunch or you sit with the women students. And you leave as soon as possible after it’s over.”

  “We’re specifically not allowed to date students,” Ryan said defensively. “It’s Barry’s number-one rule.”

  “The point is, you spend most of your time at work and the rest writing. It’s not you, it’s the way you’ve set up your life.”

  “I don’t want to be standing around and waiting for someone who’s not going to show up,” Ryan burst out hotly.

  “Isn’t that what you’re doing anyway? Avoiding them all and thinking that somehow Mr. Right is going to show up, cut you out of the pack and choose you for happily ever after? It’s like you got totally derailed when Ross worked you over.”

  The words cut Ryan to the quick, cut to the heart of what had underlain every encounter with a man since she’d known him.

  “He’s not the standard for all men,” Becka continued. “He was an immature little college boy who drank too much and gave you a tumble without thinking about it. He was a jerk, Ryan. If you’d ever dated anyone else you’d know that. He didn’t deserve a minute of your time. The son of a bitch certainly didn’t deserve to screw up the entire rest of your life.” She pulled Ryan close for a hard hug then looked at her seriously. “It’s time to go forward. You’ve been caught up in this too long. Getting back into the swing of things with this Cade guy was a start. Now we need to find you a man.” Becka scanned around and pointed to a grizzled septuagenarian flipping ribs at the barbecue booth. “Hmm, what about him?”

  Ryan wiped her eyes, and this time the tears were from laughter. “You always look out for what’s best for me, Becka, that’s why I love you.” She rose and they began to walk back toward the bazaar.

  “Well, I’d ask Scott to set you up with someone but I don’t think you’d like anyone Scott picked. Come to think of it,” she reflected, “I’m having serious thoughts about Scott myself.”

  The glimmer of gold at the next booth caught Ryan’s eye and she stopped to look. Gold chains snaked across black velvet, earrings dangled from racks and danced in the light breeze.

  “Do you think happily ever after is a pipe dream?” Ryan held a pair of amethyst drop ball earrings next to her face, admiring the results in a hand mirror.

  Becka shrugged. It was a question they’d often asked each other. “I don’t know. Look at your parents, still holding hands after thirty-three years. On the other hand, I think things were easier back when they met. Everyone knew what the rules were and what was expected. Now it’s confusing. No one knows what to expect, not the guys, not us.” She blew out a breath, surprising Ryan with her frustration. “I think it can work if you meet the right man, but even then sometimes I think it’s not worth the time. Of course, that could just be Scott burnout talking.”

  “Don’t give up on the gender, though,” Ryan said. “Speaking as someone who’s had a long dry spell, there’s something to be said for sex.”

  “Can I take it that you’re recovering from your experience with Cade?”

  “If that’s even his name, yes. I’m starting to put it into perspective anyway. Talking about it helped. Thanks. And you’re right, it’s not as though I’d have had a serious relationship with a gigolo. So all things considered, maybe he wasn’t so evil.” She sighed. “The frustrating part now is that it’s over. God, playing with his body felt good. It’s like I’ve just gotten my motor revved up after all this time off and there’s nobody to fool around with.”

  “Like I said, we need to get you a man.”

  “First things first—I need to finish my book,” said Ryan, starting to angle toward her car. “We going to run on Monday?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Maybe you’ll have another great story.”

  “Nope, I think this is one in a million,” Ryan laughed.

  “Good. I don’t think my sinuses could handle any more peach smoothie.”

  DUSK SENT LONG SHADOWS through the bay windows of Ryan’s second-floor Victorian flat as she worked at her computer. The weekend had slipped by while she sat at the keyboard in the grip of a creative tumult. She had to hand it to Helene, her idea had worked. The love scenes smoldered and leapt off the page. When Ryan reached a hot scene between the hero and heroine, like now, she had only to think of Cade’s hands roaming over her body, hotly possessive, his mouth searing hers. The sensations roared back, slick, hot, hard, and wet, and she ran a fingertip rhythmically up and down her throat.

  The phone clamored for attention. Ryan blinked, snapping out of her reverie. “Hello?”“So what’s with ducking my phone calls Friday?” The rough voice leapt out of the phone, obliterating Ryan’s fantasy.

  “Hi, Helene.”

  “So did you kill him?”

  Ryan smiled. “Not quite. I made it a night he’ll remember, though. It’ll teach him not to tell lies.”

  “I’m almost afraid to ask, kid. Was he breathing when you left him?”

  “Yes,” Ryan said airily. “He was tied up, so it was hard to say
how perky he was, but I’m almost sure he was breathing.”

  “When I told you that you needed to think about publicity, I didn’t mean arrests for assault.”

  “He’d never do that, trust me. We just had a discussion about what happened.” Ryan couldn’t keep back a smile at the thought.

  “So how’s the book coming? You’ve only got to the end of this week, you know.”

  “You’ll be happy to hear that I’ve finished it.”

  “Even the hot stuff?”

  “Especially the hot stuff. It’s filled with nothing but hot stuff. Want me to e-mail you some of it?”

  “I trust your instincts. Just be sure the full package is on Elaine’s desk first thing Friday morning. I don’t want you to get a rep for missing deadlines.”

  Ryan saved the file she was reviewing and pressed the print button. “Hear that? That’s my laser printer spitting out chapter eleven. I’m on my final polishing run. It’ll be on time, Helene, I swear.”

  “Just remember, if this one goes, you’re a professional writer for life, or as long you keep cranking out novels.” Ryan could hear the grin in her voice. “Not to mention the fact that I’ll get my hot tub.”

  “And you definitely deserve your hot tub for pulling my fat out of the fire, Helene. Don’t think I don’t appreciate it. You’re the best.” Ryan pulled the pages off her printer and shuffled them into order.

  “Well, you can buy me a drink next time we get together. Speaking of which, are you still coming to Manhattan for that conference?”

  “Week after next. I’ve got you penciled in for dinner one of the nights I’m there, so don’t forget.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it. It’ll give us a chance to catch up.” Helene’s voice softened. “You’re one of the good ones, kid. I want to see you do well.”

  “Not to mention get your hot tub.”

  “And get my hot tub.”

  7

  WRITING FULL-TIME, wouldn’t it be bliss, Ryan thought a week and a half later. She scooped her briefing charts off her desk and headed to the on-site classroom for her morning course on public speaking. Four or five days like the previous weekend, followed by two or three days off to relax. Time spent worrying about pleasing her characters and her readers, not a neurotic, micromanaging boss.