Just a Fling: A Heartthrob Hotel Novella

by Kiss, Tabatha

“Then, I told her to stop by if she’s ever in town again and she said that her conference meets the same week in Las Vegas every year, so she just might.”

  “And that’s why you started requesting extra towels the night before instead of the morning after.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So...” She crosses her arms. “This woman just shows up to your room every year?”

  “Second Tuesday in September. Nine o’clock. Literal clockwork,” I answer.

  “And you have sex with her?”

  “Among other things.”

  “You two ever think about maybe taking it to another level?”

  I snort. “No. Why would we?”

  Her mouth sags open. “Because you’re obviously compatible!”

  “It’s not that kind of thing, Faye,” I say.

  “Ira, no woman shows up to the same place at the same time every year for a man unless there are some feelings involved in that decision.”

  “No, you’re right. We are compatible. Her genitals are an innie and mine is an outie. They fit together quite nicely.”

  Faye groans. “What is it with you and Hayden using every woman you meet as a masturbatory device?”

  “Well, that’s a tad presumptuous,” I say. “She gets to stay the night in a luxury hotel with total access to whatever she wants from the room service menu free of charge. Who’s using whom here?”

  “Ugh.” She sneers. “You use whom, too.”

  “Hayden has a girlfriend now, by the way, so… your assumption is not only offensive but false.”

  “Penny stuck around?” she asks.

  “Yes, she did.”

  “Hm. Surprising…” She squints at me. “Stop trying to change the subject away from your obvious soulmate.”

  I sigh. “It’s just a fling, Faye,” I say. “Meaningless, satisfying sex that we can pin to our calendars. No feelings. No drama. She has fun. I have fun. Your opinion is irrelevant.”

  “Well, what else do you know about her?” she asks. “Like, is she married?”

  “I don’t know,” I answer.

  “Where’s she from?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Veronica,” I say with a nod.

  “Veronica what?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Faye blinks twice. “You don’t know her last name?”

  I shrug. “Never did ask.”

  “You’ve been sleeping with this woman for four years and you don’t even know her last name?!”

  “Would kind of defeat the purpose of the meaningless part if I did,” I joke.

  “Wow.” She stares at me in stunned shock. “You’re kind of an assface, Ira.”

  I laugh. “Now, is that where my face looks like an ass or I have an ass in my face, because one of those is entirely possible at some point in the next twelve hours.”

  She cringes as she steps around me toward the lobby. “You know, I think I preferred it when you never talked about yourself. Let’s go back to that.”

  “Works for me.” I watch her go, feeling smug. “Don’t forget my towels!”

  She doesn’t turn around. “Assface!”

  “Never mind.” I clear my throat. “I’ll just get them myself…”

  I head back into my office and close the door behind me. As I sit down at my desk, my eyes instantly dart toward the clock again. 3:55 PM.

  Five hours, five minutes to go.

  * * *

  I run a hand along the bedspread again, flattening out the last of the lumps as someone knocks on the door. It’s only eight-fifty. Too early for it to be Veronica. Definitely room service.

  I head toward the door and open it. A young man in black stands in the hall with a large, silver tray carrying an ice bucket, a bottle of champagne, and two glasses balanced on his hand, just as I expected.

  “Your champagne, sir,” he says.

  I nod as he eases the heavy tray over to me. “Thanks, Luke,” I say as I slip him a tip.

  “You’re welcome, sir.”

  He lingers in place with a smile, his curious eyes targeting the empty room behind me for a brief second before he turns to leave. Guess the staff downstairs are going to poke him for every detail he can get of my mysterious Towel Girl but I don’t have time to care about that.

  Ten minutes to go.

  The homestretch. One last chance to peek around and straighten up, though everything is already perfect. Perfect enough for a fling anyway.

  What Faye said before might be true for some, but not for me and Veronica. There’s no emotion driving her decision to stay with me every year. It’s the free hotel room, the free food, and the free dick; all of which I’m more than happy to provide in exchange for a night with that body of hers, which she takes very good care of.

  Nothing emotional about it.

  Just simple, meaningless sex.

  I open the top drawer of my writing desk and withdraw the pair of handcuffs I keep inside.

  Simple, meaningless sex with a bit of kink mixed in, too.

  I set them down on the bedside table next to the alarm clock and take another quick scan around the room. Clean, tidy.

  I catch sight of my reflection in the bathroom mirror and step in to see a little more. My brownish-black hair is slicked back. My beard is soft and trimmed. My shirt is ironed and my tie is loose — but not too loose. Casual, fun.

  Nothing more. Nothing less.

  Three light knocks tap against my door. I look at the clock and smile as I catch the numbers flash to 9:00.

  Right on time, Veronica. As always.

  I run a hand down my chest to lay my tie flat as I walk toward the door. My pulse skips wildly as my anticipation comes to a peak. It’s been a year since I’ve seen her. Every year, I wonder how she’s changed, though she rarely ever does in any significant way. That’s why I like her, honestly. Every year, I know exactly what to expect when I turn this knob.

  I stop at the door and look through the peephole.

  Just as I expected.

  The same shoulder-length brown hair over a jet-black business suit. Thin, pink lips and sharp, rouge-whispered cheekbones. She wears a gray scarf over her shoulders as her chest rises and falls. A stark contrast to the woman I met out in the villages of Burma who wore nothing but tan khakis and tight ponytails but no less beautiful.

  Veronica.

  I quickly turn the knob, dying to get a closer look into those ice-colored eyes. She jolts slightly as I swing the door open a bit too fast but her mouth curls into a smile as she looks up at me.

  “Hi, Veronica,” I greet.

  She takes a deep breath and holds it in. “Hello, stranger,” she says, her voice a warm knife that slices me right in the chest.

  A soft coo echoes throughout the hallway followed quickly by a brief, high-pitched squeal.

  I stick my head out and look both ways in search of the source but the hallway is empty. The sound travels up to my ears again, drawing my eyes down to Veronica’s feet.

  A small basket sits in the hallway by her side, the top half obscured by a thick, black canopy.

  No, not a basket.

  A car seat?

  I furrow my brow in confusion as two tiny limbs kick out from beneath the canopy.

  Is that a onesie?

  A pink onesie?

  I pause. “Um...”

  Veronica’s throat clears and she smiles again.

  “We need to talk,” she says.

  Two

  Veronica

  What the hell were you thinking, V?

  This was a bad idea.

  “What is that?” Ira asks, his eyes locked on the floor between us.

  A very bad idea.

  I glance down at my daughter as she coos again. “It’s a baby,” I answer.

  Ira’s shadowed gaze flicks back up to mine in surprise. Those deep eyes. That handsome face and well-kept beard. I nearly twitch backward from the heat wave rushing over my skin.
/>
  A Pavlovian response, naturally. I usually come knocking on this door for a very, very different reason.

  But not this year.

  “Why do you have a baby?” he asks.

  I swallow hard. “Because I got pregnant.”

  “When?”

  “About a year ago.”

  Ira blinks twice. Simple mathematics. He’s a smart man. He’s figured it out by now.

  “And how old is the baby?” he asks.

  Okay, maybe he needs a little bit more.

  “About three months,” I answer.

  “Hm,” he hums, barely breathing. “Okay.”

  “Can we maybe talk about this somewhere that’s not out in the hallway?” I ask.

  He nods slowly as he takes several steps back into his suite.

  I reach out to stop the door from automatically closing while I bend down to grab the handle on the car seat. Ira’s completely abandoned the doorway now and appears to beeline directly toward the silver bucket on the table by the bed. Not that I blame him.

  I step into the room and slowly guide the door closed behind me to keep it from slamming loudly.

  “Would you like something to drink?” Ira asks as he pops the cork off the champagne bottle.

  “No, thanks, I’m...” I go quiet and watch Ira as he brings the bottle right to his lips. “I’m good.”

  I set the car seat down on the bed and turn it away from the lamps before adjusting the canopy open a little further so she can look around… and so he can see her. It’s way past her bedtime, which is just another factor to add to the ever-growing pile for how bad of an idea this was. I should have left her downstairs for this but I thought…

  I thought he should meet her.

  Ira sputters and coughs into his sleeve as the cold bubbles quickly become too much for him. He plops the bottle back down into the ice bucket and paces back and forth in front of the windows. The curtains are open halfway, allowing for the flashing Vegas lights to bounce off his bright, familiar eyes. Eyes just like hers.

  “Ira,” I say.

  He stops immediately and looks up, silently waiting for me to say something else.

  I rehearsed this. All of it. Every branching scenario, though I somehow knew that catatonic silence would be his most likely reaction. Ira’s not a loud man. He can be intense but never belligerent. He’s stoic and calm. Rational in the face of truth.

  But I’ve been wrong about men before.

  “She’s yours,” I say, my stomach twisting at the bluntness of that statement but here we are. “Ira, this is your daughter.”

  Ira looks down, his gaze locking on the tiny person again, though he doesn’t move. “She?” he asks.

  I nod. “The pink usually gives it away.”

  He takes a single step forward before stopping again as if he’s approaching a lion’s den. “Are you sure?” he asks.

  “That she’s a she?”

  “No, that she’s...” he pauses, “mine.”

  “Oh.” I push my hair back behind my ear. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure.”

  “Pretty sure?” he repeats. “So, not like, sure sure?”

  “No, I’m sure sure, Ira.”

  “Because we’re really careful.”

  I exhale. “I know.”

  “Like I distinctly remember...” He pauses, lowering his voice to a whisper as his hands fidget. “Can you say pulling out in front of a baby?” he asks me.

  “Yes,” I say, chuckling slightly. “You can say pulling out in front of a baby.”

  “Because the whole reason why I... you know, was so that she wouldn’t exist...” His face scrunches up in deep thought.

  “Ira.”

  “Seems almost disrespectful.”

  “We were careful,” I say. “But she does exist.”

  “Why?” he asks.

  “What do you mean, why? Because you didn’t do it in time.”

  “No.” He turns to face me. “Why didn’t you tell me before now?”

  “Oh. I...” I shift on my toes. “It didn’t seem right. At the time.”

  “As opposed to just showing up here with a baby?” he asks. “A phone call wouldn’t have killed me, V.”

  “I know.” My fingers twitch. “And I’m sorry.”

  “You know I live here. You know my name.”

  “I do.”

  “It’s not like you had no way of getting a hold of me to let me know about this.”

  “Ira, please.”

  “Please, what, Veronica?”

  I hesitate, glancing down as my baby lets out a soft babble. “Look, I don’t have the best answer or excuse for this,” I say, keeping my voice calm and low. “I lived almost two-thousand miles away. It didn’t seem feasible to involve you until now.”

  “Now?” he repeats, thankfully matching my quiet tone. “What’s happening now?”

  “Ira, I didn’t come here for anything, okay? I want you to know that, first and foremost. I don’t want your money. I don’t expect anything from you. I planned on raising this child on my own and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

  He furrows his brow and says nothing.

  “But I’m...” I pause again, my instincts tugging hard toward my baby. “I’m not here this year for a medical conference. We’re moving here. To Vegas. I got offered a job at a private practice through a friend of a friend. Better pay, flexible hours, amazing benefits. Seemed like a no-brainer given my new situation, so...” I stare at him as he stares at her. “I looked at the calendar and saw that our usual was coming up and I thought this would be a good time as any to let you know what was going on.”

  “Why didn’t you...” His voice fades.

  “Why didn’t I what?” I ask.

  His jaw stiffens. “Well, I know I can’t say this in front of a baby,” he mutters.

  I hold my breath, easily reading his face. “I considered my options, Ira. In the end, I wanted to keep her, so I did, and I haven’t regretted that decision for a second. Now, I told you that I didn’t come here for anything and I meant it. My only intention tonight was to let you meet her, though I’m honestly starting to regret that decision a little bit.”

  Ira’s thick shoulders sink. “V...”

  “Where we go from here is entirely up to you,” I say over him. “If you want us to leave and never come back, then this will be the end of us and I’m perfectly fine with that. If you would like to work something out now that we’re local, that’s fine with me, too.”

  I take a step toward the bed and slowly ease the car seat back onto my arm. I stay quiet for a few moments in case Ira has something he’d like to say but the air just fills with a little more of that heavy silence.

  I turn to face him again, my daughter safely hooked beneath my arm. “The movers won’t be here until the weekend, so I got a room downstairs in the meantime. Room 1209. If you decide you would like to talk in a way that doesn’t besmirch the existence of my daughter, let me know.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” he says.

  “Please don’t call the room and knock as softly as possible if you come down. She’s not exactly sleeping through the night yet.”

  Ira hangs back, giving us plenty of space as I move toward the door.

  Bad idea indeed.

  “Her name.”

  I pause. “What?” I ask.

  Ira faces us. “You wanted me to meet her, right?” he asks. “What’s her name?”

  My breath catches as I look him up and down. In the few moments since his body language screamed overwhelming shock, he’s now standing tall with strength and authority.

  “Michelle,” I answer. “Her name is Michelle.”

  Ira steps forward and I hold my breath a little longer as I turn my head up. I always forget how much he towers over me, though I’ve never once felt so nervous beneath him.

  Come to think of it, I just told one of the strongest men I’ve ever met that I had his baby... and I thought I could just walk out of here with he
r afterward?

  Oh, you stupid girl.

  Ira extends his palm. “May I?”

  I hesitate, feeling a fierce, protective rush of my own.

  His face softens. “Please,” he says.

  I slowly raise my arm, offering him the handle of the car seat. Ira takes it with a steady, white-knuckle grip and my stomach lurches as he turns around with it and sets her back down on the bed. I watch for movement and brace for screaming cries, but Michelle thankfully eases back into a light sleep despite the tension in the room.

  “Michelle Lee Robb,” I say.

  He shifts closer to the bed. “I didn’t know your last name was Robb,” he says, his eyes on hers.

  I extend my hand toward him. “Veronica Robb,” I say.

  He takes it and offers me a soft handshake. “Ira Botsford.”

  I move to take my hand back but I linger in his grip instead. First time in a year since we’ve touched and my hand twitches with a sudden, aching warmth.

  Ira lets go first and gestures toward Michelle. “So, how do I do this?” he asks.

  I squint. “How do you...?”

  “I want to hold her.”

  My heart skips.

  “Oh. Um... You just…” I lean down, gently adjusting the canopy open a little more before reaching for the belt holding her in place. “Undo that and…”

  Ira watches closely as I slide my hands beneath her. I support her head as I slowly lift her out of the seat, easily shifting her into the crook of my arm as I’ve done who knows how many times in the last three months. I look up into Ira’s eyes, seeing the same terrified expression I had when she was born. I got used to it. Maybe Ira will, too.

  Ira holds up his hands and positions himself closer as I pass her little body into his big arms.

  “Watch her head,” I say, though he’s already placed his palm in the exact right spot to hold her up. “And don’t take it personally if she screams. She hasn’t quite mastered acceptable social skills yet.”

  His lips twitch. “Well, that’s one thing she and I have in common,” he says.

  I chuckle, keeping my fingers on her for as long as I can before I finally let them slip away. I keep a watchful eye on Ira, though he appears strong and confident as he stares into her little face.

  I take a step back as my heart races. I spent so long wondering how he would react to seeing her, I never even thought about how I would react to seeing her with him.