by Sophia Renny
He was sitting with three other men in a booth at the front of the lounge near the entrance to the hotel lobby. They were all wearing business suits. He was the only one who faced her directly. Two of the men had their backs to her, the third was in profile. They seemed to be having a business meeting of some sort. As she watched them it became clear that the three other men were giving a presentation, one of them sliding his finger across a tablet screen while the other two took turns speaking.
If she hadn’t been a woman on a mission she might have enjoyed watching the scene before her and anticipating how it played out. Would any of the women eventually entice him? Would he buy what the other men were evidently selling? Only fifteen or twenty minutes had gone by since she’d walked into the lounge, but she’d wasted too much time already. She had to act quickly before her self-confidence, already dangling on a very fine thread, completely slipped away.
There were a couple of average Joes sitting at the bar watching the basketball game that was playing on mute in the background. Neither one of them were wearing a wedding band. Not that that meant anything, especially at this busy airport hotel that catered to business travelers. This was the one flaw in her plan: making sure that the man she chose was actually single and available. She would have to trust a complete stranger. She loathed cheaters.
One of the Joes must have felt her stare. He swiveled his bar stool towards her and gave her a smile. It was a nice, genuine smile, nothing sleazy or cagey about it. Her gut instinct told her that he didn’t have a wife and kids at home. Though she didn’t have any experience in bar hookups to back up that instinct, she felt almost certain that he was single.
He raised one eyebrow and nodded at the empty seat at her table. She was on the verge of giving him a smile of agreement when she heard the laughter. It drifted across the lounge towards her, its deep, husky timbre brushing over her skin like a sultry summer breeze, instantly luring her gaze back to the booth near the entrance.
His head was flung back as he continued to laugh, the arch of his throat an inviting stretch of warm tan skin above his crisp white shirt collar. All of the men were laughing now, rocking their heads back and forth, shoulders shaking.
She was entranced. His face, now radiant with laughter, was too gorgeous for words. She wanted to bask in his light. She wanted to slide her fingers in his black, close-cropped hair. She wanted to touch the crinkles on either side of his blue—oh, she hoped they were the blue they appeared to be from this distance—eyes. She wanted to press her mouth to the groove next to his mouth, discover the taste of his healthy, glowing skin, take his firm, lower lip between her teeth before sliding her tongue…
He was staring at her.
He was still smiling as the other men’s laughter gradually diminished and they began making motions to leave. But his smile had transmuted from that given in the spirit of male camaraderie to one that came with the awareness that she was blatantly watching him. His gaze sharpened, one eyebrow arched in question, as if he were trying to figure out whether or not he knew her.
She felt a hot clench of desire between her legs. She wiggled slightly in her chair, unable to quell her immediate reaction to his scrutiny. Her breath caught in her throat as his eyes slowly swept over her, down and up, an assessment that led to approval and then, to her utter shock, a reciprocal desire.
Only in her wildest imaginings had this kind of man fulfilled her oldest and deepest longing. She’d convinced herself that this kind of man could never be attracted to a woman like her—or, rather, the woman she used to be and still was sometimes inside her head. This kind of man belonged solely to that exclusive sphere where only the beautiful people mingled.
Joe at the bar would have been easy, not entirely comfortable, true, since she couldn’t possibly feel completely comfortable with any man in this situation, but…safer.
Dr. Moira’s voice filtered through her agitated thoughts: You are beautiful. You are a woman worthy of happiness and love. It’s time to let go of the things that are holding you down, holding you back from becoming the person you were meant to be. Let go…break free…
The men were leaving. He stood with them to shake hands and clasp arms. The others motioned towards the street exit, but he glanced at his watch, shook his head, and said something in a low voice as he pointed to his drink. He sat back down in the booth as they left.
He wasn’t looking at her now. He seemed pensive, almost sullen, as he studied the cocktail glass in his hand, slowly twirling it on the glossy black tabletop. One of the waitresses sashayed over with an eager smile to ask him if he’d like another drink. He shook his head without glancing up.
If she didn’t do this now, she knew she would never find the courage to try again. She dug into her purse for the blank notecard and envelope she’d put there earlier. It was her backup plan. She just knew that, if she were to walk over right now and sit down across from him, any words that managed to escape from her mouth would only be so much gobbledygook. All her efforts to appear sexy, sophisticated and worldly-wise would be exposed as a total sham.
She wrote quickly, having practiced the lines over a hundred times in her head: Please understand that I’ve never done this kind of thing before and never will again. I’m not a prostitute. I’m safe. I don’t do drugs. I’m not drunk. I find you very attractive and I want to spend the night with you. If you are married or otherwise attached, rip this up and throw away the key. If you aren’t married or otherwise, and you’re interested, please come to room 1208. If you don’t show up within a half hour, I will leave. Thank you for considering this offer. It’s not given lightly, but with the full appreciation that life is too short and every moment is meant to be savored.
She slipped the notecard and a plastic room key in the envelope and sealed it. Taking a fortifying breath, she stood, making sure her legs were steady before slowly walking towards the hotel lobby entrance. She felt him watching her as she approached his booth. She didn’t have to pretend to stumble slightly just as she came adjacent to his table. The envelope tumbled from her nerveless fingers. Bending over quickly, praying that not every single eye in the lounge was on her, she picked up the envelope and set it on the table next to his glass. “I believe this is yours?” Then, without waiting for a response, she continued through the lobby towards the elevators.
The room was as she’d left it, the covers turned down on the king size bed, a single lamp glowing softly in the corner. She’d been relieved to discover that the lamp had a dimmer switch. She wanted the lights turned down low, but not so low that she wouldn’t be able to see his body. There were condoms in the nightstand drawer and one tucked under the pillows.
She removed her earrings and necklace and placed them in the safe along with her purse. She closed the closet door, concealing her suitcase and coat, then paused a moment to study her reflection in the full length mirror. The dress was her most recent find, ordered from an online boutique that specialized in vintage clothing from the Fifties and early Sixties. It was a periwinkle blue and white floral chiffon with a ruched waist and full skirt. It had a bateau neckline in front, and a deep curved back neckline that came across the middle of her shoulder bones. Matching suede periwinkle pumps completed the look.
It was a dress that spoke romance. It was a dress, she hoped, that begged an easy touch and slow hands, not one to be torn aside in a rush of passion. Oh, she wanted that mad rush eventually, but not for her first time.
Her hands shook slightly as she skimmed them down her waist and over the skirt. She loved wearing dresses. For too many years, she hadn’t been able to wear them, not without feeling like she was on a poster advertising a carnival sideshow. She’d had to content herself with cutting out pictures of dresses she liked, taping them to her bedroom mirror or tucking them in a scrapbook. Someday, she’d promised herself. Someday.
Her hair, a medium auburn, was now long enough to put up in a chignon. Her first grade teacher had complimented her once on her “pretty brown
eyes,” telling her that—in a certain light—they were the exact color of her “lovely red hair.” She’d never forgotten those words, a rare gift of praise that she’d held deep in her heart like a buried treasure to be opened on those too many occasions when her world had become almost too dark to bear.
Now those years almost felt like they’d belonged to someone else. She and Dr. Moira had worked through them, one by one, as they uncovered old wounds and gave them fresh air and the healing balm of forgiveness. So much had changed in the last two years. She could now truthfully say that she liked herself, that she liked her own body, a body that had been kept hidden for too long in a prison of low self-esteem and hurt. There had just been this one final stepping stone, this last barrier to cross. She’d chosen to deal with it in this way; Dr. Moira knew nothing about what would happen in this room tonight.
Or would it? How much time had gone by? Would he take her up on her offer?
She looked at the bedside clock. It’d been twenty minutes since she’d walked out of the lounge.
Twenty minutes.
He wasn’t coming.
Her eyes itched with the threat of tears. No. She wasn’t going to cry. She rushed into the bathroom and hit the cold water handle, running her wrists under the icy stream. She pressed one wrist against the back of her neck as she took deep, calming breaths. “I am beautiful,” she whispered.
She would not allow herself to think that he hadn’t come because of her appearance. He had a girlfriend, he was married…
A knock sounded on the door.
She froze.
A second knock came, no louder than the first.
She shut off the water, dried her hands, and then turned off the bathroom light before stepping into the small hallway. She looked through the peephole.
It was him.
He had his profile presented to her as he looked down the corridor towards the elevator bank. She heard the ping of an arriving car. He gave a slight shake of his head before taking a step towards it.
She opened the door.
He turned to face her directly, his eyes—a clear, vivid blue—made a burning sweep from head to toe and up again. “Hello,” he said, his voice low, soft as kidskin leather.
“Hello,” she breathed.
Up close, he was taller than he’d appeared in the lounge. She was five feet seven inches in heels. The top of her head was even with the bridge of his nose. This close, she caught the fragrance of his cologne, a hint of citrus with cedar undertones.
God, he was so handsome.
She swayed slightly and grabbed the doorjamb to keep upright. His eyes followed the motion before returning their piercing directness to her face. He frowned in question, dipping his head towards her. “Is your offer still on the table?”
“Y-yes.”
His eyes narrowed at the telltale quiver in her voice. Several seconds that seemed like eons went by during which he seemed to be locked in some inner debate. He inhaled sharply, closed his eyes for a moment before he lightly touched her waist and gave her a gentle nudge backwards. The brief flicker of indecision—or had it been nervousness?—in his expression had vanished. “Let’s continue this in private.”
She released her grip on the doorjamb and her hand drifted down to his shoulder—his broad, strong, firm shoulder concealed under the fine, clearly expensive fabric of his black suit jacket. It was almost like a slow dance as he continued guiding her farther into the room until the door clicked shut behind them. He turned slightly to flip the safety latch, quirking one eyebrow at her as he did so. “Okay?”
She nodded.
They stood close together in the narrow hallway, his hand still at her waist, both of hers now resting lightly on his shoulders. Her unsteady breathing seemed to echo his. She’d never, willingly, been this close to a man before. She lost herself for a giddy moment in the vibrant male warmth that radiated from his body.
His fingers tightened against her waist, tugging her forward until her chest brushed against his. He set the knuckles of his other hand under her chin, tilting her face up and capturing her eyes. “What’s your name?” he rasped.
“You can call me…Joan,” she whispered.
His mouth twitched as his eyes took in her red hair and vintage attire. “Well hello…Joan. Call me…Don.”
She almost laughed, but it came out as an anxious gasp. “Tell me that this isn’t something you do all the time.”
She hadn’t intended to ask that. She’d planned to trust that the man who accepted her offer would be decent, not the type of guy who had the proverbial girl in every port. She hadn’t wanted to reveal just how nervous and unsophisticated she was. In fact, she hadn’t even intended to speak more than a few words. She’d practiced saying, “Please, let’s not talk,” in front of her bedroom mirror at least a dozen times until she had the desired sultry tone just right.
Her anxiety must have been clear in her eyes because he moved his hand up to her cheek, cupping it with his palm in a soothing gesture. “No,” he said, his tone almost angry in its insistence, though she sensed he was irritated with himself, not with her question. “This isn’t something I do all the time. Never, in fact.”
At once she knew he spoke the truth. Yet, she was startled. “Never?”
“Never.”
“And you’re not married or seeing anyone?”
Something dark briefly shadowed his expression, something akin to sadness, before he shook his head firmly. “No. Are you?”
“No.”
“I believe that takes care of the wooing portion of this evening then…Joan. Rest assured I’m not a cheating bastard. Your note found me in the right place and at the right time.” His other hand slid up her body, brushed fleetingly against the side of her breast before touching her other cheek. “Of course, I also took into account that you’re a very attractive woman. A woman I want to be inside of very soon.” He brushed his thumbs leisurely across her flushed cheeks. “Do my assurances satisfy you?”
She was shaking so hard she had to dig her fingers into his shoulders to keep from collapsing. Suddenly, his arms were around her, one at her shoulder and the other at her waist, holding her close in an embrace that was at once gentle and urgent.
She fell against him with a peculiar sense of relief, her cheek resting against his warm, solid chest, just over his heart. He rubbed one hand slowly up and down her back, his fingertips lightly grazing the bare skin above the neckline of her dress. He lowered his head, his mouth hovering just above her ear. “Hey,” he whispered. “You sure you’re okay with this?”
The hint of tenderness in his voice gave her the last bit of reassurance she needed. She slid her hands down from his shoulders, delving under his suit jacket to wrap them around his lean waist. She pressed her upper body closer to his. She nodded her head.
His lips grazed her ear, his warm, damp breath spiking every nerve in her body. “How do you want this to go? Fast or slow?”
She felt a delicious tightening in her lower abdomen, a gathering pool of liquid heat between her legs. “Slow,” she murmured. “The first time.”
He smiled against her temple. “So, you really do want me to spend the night with you.”
Her arms tightened around him, signaling, already, her reluctance to let him go. He felt so solid, so dynamic and strong, just as she’d always hoped this man would feel. “Can you?”
“My flight isn’t until ten o’clock tomorrow morning.” The hand at her waist drifted down, his palm lightly rubbing over the curve of her hips and buttocks, before he suddenly grasped her firmly, bringing her against his lower body. “I’m ready and willing,” he added, his sudden brief laugh laced with sex and desire.
Oh.
So, that’s what it felt like.
She wriggled closer.
He danced her farther into the room, his fingers finding and undoing the clasp at the back of her dress before slowly pulling down the zipper. When the back of her legs touched the edge of the bed, he s
tood back slightly, his hands gliding up to her shoulders. With the zipper undone, her dress hung loosely from her upper body.
She concealed her shyness beneath half-closed eyes, watching him as, with deliberate ease, he tugged the dress sleeves down her arms, gradually revealing her collarbone, the curve of her upper breasts. His hands clasped her arms just above the elbows, gently pushing them down to her sides so he could continue removing the dress. With one last tug, it floated to the floor, leaving her wearing just her panties, bra and heels, a cloud of chiffon at her feet.
“Beautiful,” he said softly, a slight catch in his voice. He took a step backwards, his heated gaze igniting tiny bonfires everywhere it touched her bare skin. “Your skin is like cream. So white and smooth.”
He reached out his hand, tracing a scattering of freckles at the base of her throat, one finger slowly following the trail down to where it disappeared beneath her white lace bra. He swallowed thickly. “Take it off.”
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Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Epilogue
About the Author
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