by Alexis James
Marco settles in and kicks his feet up on the coffee table. “You threw me out of your office earlier.”
“Yeah. So?”
He smirks and greedily sucks down the tequila the minute I hand it to him. “What the hell is going on with you and Sabrina?”
It’s weird that he’s here this late, trying to pull information from me that I refused to give not only a few hours ago. In fact, it’s really weird that he wants to talk about this at all. Marco isn’t exactly the deepest guy I know, and while he’s now securely tethered to Amita, I doubt he’s changed his spots so much that he seeks out emotional conversations with his brothers.
“What the hell is going on with you? You couldn’t give a fuck about what goes on in my personal life and now all of a sudden you’re showing up at my house late at night to interrogate me.” Glass in hand, I start to pace the length of the living room, stopping only when the big frigging light bulb goes on over my head. “Cruz sent you, didn’t he?”
Marco offers me a sheepish look and shrugs. “I might have mentioned that she was in your office behind closed doors. He just wants to make sure that it’s all business between you guys. You know how he is about the office policy bullshit.”
Slamming the glass down, I snarl, “You two need to stay the fuck out of my life. If something is gonna happen with me and her, it’s none of anyone’s business.”
Sliding his arm along the back of the couch, he states, “Look, man, I really don’t give a crap what you do and honestly, I’m not sure why this is such a big deal with Cruz. The guy did bang his secretary after all.”
“She’s his wife, dude. Have a little respect.”
He shrugs, grinning like the cocky asshole he is. “Semantics.” Refilling our glasses, he waits for me to take a seat then continues. “I think he’s just being protective of you, that’s all.”
“Since when? I’ve been bringing random women around for years and he’s barely noticed. Now all of a sudden I show interest in someone he happens to know and he’s like my father for crying out loud.”
“True. But this one is different.”
“How so?” I know Sabrina is different, in every single way that matters, which is why I’ve spent the better half of the last few years torn up in knots over her. I thought, however, that I’d kept that little secret well hidden.
“She’s not like your usual chicks.” When I give him a quizzical look, he grins and replies, “You know … big tits, small ass, and no brains.”
Christ, am I really that shallow? “They’re not all like that.” Yes they are.
“Yes they are.” Marco sets his glass aside and drags his fingers through his hair. “Between you and me, what is going on with you two?”
While I somewhat doubt he’ll keep our conversation between the two of us, I feel like I need to let him know that I’m serious about Sabrina. She’s not some warm body that I’ll entertain for a few hours. She’s not disposable like all the other airhead beauties I’ve brought around in the past. Sure, I’ve been shallow in my previous choices, but it’s not like I ever had to drag anyone kicking and screaming into my bed. The women were always more than willing to be there. Hell, the bigger problem was getting rid of them when it was over.
He’s right, though. Sabrina is different, in every single way. She does have all the requisite things I usually appreciate: the mouthwatering beauty, the long legs. And while she’s not what I’d classify as well-endowed, she’s perfectly proportioned—long and lean and breathtaking. She has a beautifully sharp brain that’s as much of a turn-on to me as those large blue eyes. But it’s the cool mask she hides behind that intrigues me the most. I want to peel back the layers … very slowly … one at a time … until she’s finally revealed in her truest form to me. Then I want to ease her down on her back and lose myself in her for hours on end.
“Dude, you okay there?”
I shoot him a sideways glance and shrug. “I don’t know, man. I think maybe … I don’t know … maybe I might be in love with her.”
A variety of emotions slide over his face. First there’s shock, because while I might have thrown the love word around in the past with all my flighty women, I’ve never come right out and said something like this. Then comes the disbelief, which is followed quickly by a snort, which is then followed by loud, bellowing laughter.
When he’s finally calmed down, he sputters, “Seriously, dude, quit fucking around. There’s no way you can be in love with this chick. You haven’t even dated her.” He lifts a dark brow. “Have you?”
I ignore his question. “Oh, and all of sudden you’re such an expert on love. You and Amita have been together what … three, four months? Give me a fucking break.” Rising, I move toward the slider and pull it open. “Just forget what I said, all right? I’m tired.”
Strangely enough, Marco actually does as I request. He lets the subject drop, mutters something about seeing me at the office, and before I know it I’m once again alone with my thoughts.
What the hell is up with my family all of a sudden? I’ve always been able to fly right below the radar, never raising suspicions, never causing concern. Everyone knows I’m the charmer, the ladies’ man, the Romeo of us Moran brothers. And I’m certain they all believe I’m simple and shallow and easy to please. Who knows … maybe I am. Or maybe I used to be, until the first day I laid eyes on Sabrina and all the other shit simply faded to black.
I suppose I need to do a better job of melting into the wood work. I hate the thought that in doing that, I’ll have to continue the charade that I’ve perfected all these years. Wow, how pathetic is it that I shudder at the thought of going out and schmoozing some chick into my bed. Guess I’m more invested in Sabrina than I originally thought.
I do have to be real with myself here. It’s taken years for her to be willing to have an actual conversation with me, years for her to look me directly in the eye and not scuttle away. Although I’m thrilled at the sexy little exchange we had in my office early, I have no illusions that those few minutes will change anything. If I’m going to invest my heart in this woman, I’m going to have to be willing to invest a lot of time and patience. Chances are, she may not even want the same things I do. For that matter, I still don’t know if she’s a free woman, though I’d hate to think she was looking at me like she was and was committed to someone else.
Pulling the slider shut, I lock up for the night and head down the hall toward my bedroom. Tomorrow is another day, and I fully intend to make the most of it. I’m not about to spend all my time worrying about how things are going to be between me and her, so first thing I’m heading to her office and feeling it out.
My perfectly executed plan falls completely apart, however, when I arrive to find her office door closed and locked. Cynthia informs me she called in sick. I murmur some response, toss the coffee I brought for her in the trash, and head to the parking garage.
I’d wager that the only sickness she’s got is one called regret. I should be the nice guy and be understanding about it, but I’m seriously pissed off. She started that whole thing with her take-me-to-bed looks and sultry innuendo. I am not the bad guy here. But since today is Friday, I’ve now got three days in front of me to contemplate what the hell I can do to fix this. Clearly she’s either not ready to get involved with me or the real kicker … she has no interest in getting involved with me. Either way, I come up short and looking like a heartsick, desperate fool.
I’m a coward, I’ll admit it. When I woke up yesterday morning and my brain came to life, I realized the enormity of what I’d done. I’d let down my guard, openly flirting with a coworker and practically begging the man to screw me on his desk. What the hell was I thinking? I tried brushing the initial thoughts off as a brief moment of insanity, but then I happened to glance at my nightstand and right there out in the open lay the result of my little office foray with Roman. I was so lost in the afterglow of orgasm last night, I didn’t even have the wherewithal to stash the vibrator away
from curious teenage eyes. Guess that shows my insanity lasted more than a few moments.
The idea of running into him in the office after all that craziness, sent me running to the bathroom. While I sat there dry-heaving with nervousness, I realized there was no way I could show my face anywhere near The Moran Group. Not today. Not until I had some time to work it all out in my head.
So now it’s noon on Saturday and I’m still in the same place mentally as I was the previous day. I’m grateful Emmy has been too distracted with her teenage life to give me half a glance and now that she’s off to hang with her friends until tomorrow, I’m left with a silent house and my good friend guilt to keep me company.
I try to occupy my thoughts by cleaning house, doing laundry, and making a grocery list. I catch up on a few bills, phone my parents in California and check in, then shower and change into a tank top and shorts. Feeling like the walls are closing in, I head outside into the warm Miami day, wind down the path in front of the duplex, and find myself standing at Jack’s front door ringing the bell.
“Hi, gorgeous, come on in.” He’s sleepy faced and tousled, wearing only a low-slung pair of pajama bottoms. He rubs his hand over his chiseled abs and shoots me a wry grin. “You look a little strung out.”
“What? Why?” I pace the length of his living room, which is exactly like mine but not. Jack has decorated his place as if it’s some upscale resort with sleek leather furnishings, dark glossy tables, and expensive woven rugs. It’s everything my place would be if I had the kind of money he has, though admittedly I have zero eye for decorating so even if I had any money, chances are it would look nothing like this.
Jack pours himself a glass of orange juice and props one hip against the kitchen counter. “Because you’re all wide eyed and pale. And you’re pacing. You never pace.” He eyes me up and down, those penetrating blue eyes of his missing nothing. “This is about that guy, isn’t it? The one at work.”
In keeping with all my craziness of the past few days, I plop right down in the center of his living room and pull my knees to my chest. “I’m going to Hell.”
He laughs. “Oh, I doubt that. Now, tell Uncle Jack what’s troubling you.”
I open my mouth to speak just as the bedroom door opens. Out walks a tall, extremely good-looking guy sporting a wide smile and a completely naked, very hot body. I attempt to avert my eyes, but really … I am only human. And this man is … oh my. Since I can’t recall how long it’s been since I’ve seen a naked man, I can only sit there on the floor and shamelessly look him over.
“Well, hello there, beautiful,” he drawls, glancing at me briefly before strolling right up to Jack and locking lips. And here’s where things get interesting. Maybe it’s because I’ve been alone for so long or it could be nothing more than two very handsome men standing within six feet of me, but as I watch their intimate exchange I feel a very decidedly and extremely intense tingle right between my legs.
Damn … this is hot. They are hot. And now I’m hot.
Just as I start to fan myself, Jack gives the guy a gentle shove and murmurs, “This is Sabrina.”
The stranger that Jack has yet to introduce me to turns and smiles once again, says hello, then confidently strolls right back into the bedroom and closes the door behind him. I’m still sitting there like a total fool, mouth hanging wide open, eyes as big as saucers, idly asking myself how someone’s body can be that perfect.
“He’s as good as he looks.”
My head snaps to the left, and I blink up at Jack. “What? What … who … um … wow.”
He grins cockily. “You can say that again.” Unapologetic, he comes closer, reaching down to assist me up off the floor and to the couch, where we settle in next to one another.
Rattled, I’m at a loss for words. Here I am, surrounded by gorgeous men in my personal life—I’m surrounded by them at work too—and each and every time I act like a total fool. What the hell is wrong with me?
Jack pats my hand like I’m a ninety year old lady. “It will be okay, Sabrina. I had that reaction the first time I saw him in the buff too.”
“It’s not just that,” I murmur, distracted by my life in general.
“Yeah, I know. You were totally turned on. I get it.” He grins at me and leans close to whisper, “I’m sure he’d be happy to let you watch us if you want.”
Shocked, I shoot to my feet. “What? No. I’m not a voyeur, Jack. Geez …”
He sits back, arms along the back of the couch, completely nonplussed by this entire conversation. “It’s really okay you know. Most people get turned on watching other people.”
“Not me.”
His smile fades and he pats the couch. “Come on. Sit back down and tell me what’s got you spinning so out of control.”
Naked guy forgotten, I launch into the entire Thursday debacle of my exchange with Roman. Jack does a lot of grinning, some eye rolling and eyebrow waggling, but generally keeps his mouth shut so I can yammer nonstop for ten minutes. When I finally run out of gas and slump against the couch, he puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me close.
“So let me clarify a few things: he didn’t push himself on you or in any way try to take advantage of you?”
“No. He was a perfect gentleman.”
“But you feel guilty because you feel like you lead him on, maybe gave him the wrong impression?”
“Well, yeah.”
Jack rolls his eyes. “Honey, you do realize that you’re a hot-blooded woman, right? It’s not a bad thing to be attracted to this man.”
On my feet, I drag my hands through my shoulder-length hair, and start to pace again. “Yes, but that’s the thing … it is. He’s younger than I am and way, way out of my league. Not to mention that we work together, and I could be fired simply because we had that conversation in the first place.”
“First off, he is not out of your league. Quit saying shit like that. It pisses me off.” He stands next to me and takes my hand in his. “Who cares if he’s younger than you? That dude in the other room just turned twenty-one, but do you see me kicking him out of my bed?”
My face blazes as I recall the naked stranger. “Good lord, Jack, he’s barely legal.”
Jack grins. “Yeah, but his stamina is worth it.”
Covering my ears with my hands, I squeeze my eyes closed and shake my head. “Enough.”
He chuckles and offers an unapologetic shrug. “At least one of us is getting some action.”
Sinking down on the couch with him once again, I sigh heavily. “This isn’t about action, Jack. That’s what I don’t think you understand.”
“Then explain it to me.”
Unexpected tears fill my eyes. “I don’t just want a hot one-night stand.” I point at the bedroom door. “I need more than that, especially if I’m going to risk so much.”
“So why are you convinced that man can’t give you what you need?”
“Because his nickname is Romeo! He has a reputation for charming women out of their panties then sending them on their way with a pat on the tush.” One lone tear trickles down my cheek. “I’ve waited years to get involved with someone. I’m not about to take a chance on a man who I know wants me for only one thing.” Swiping at my face, I tuck my hair behind one ear and glance over at him. “I want to fall in love. I want to be someone’s special person. I want to come home at night to a man who is as anxious to see me as I am to see him. I want someone who will love my child like their own, someone who will understand that being a mother comes first in my life.” The tears start rolling with a vengeance now and his face blurs in my vision. “I want to be loved, Jack. Can’t you understand that?”
Silently, he pulls me into his arms and presses his lips against my hair, letting me sob out my confusion and heartache against his strong, warm chest. How crazy is my life that the only male I’ve been physically close to in over a decade is my gay best friend? I’d forgotten how safe I could feel wrapped up in a man’s arms or how instantly so
othing chest hair would feel against my cheek. It’s almost as if that one conversation with Roman has suddenly torn down all the protective armor I’ve worn for so long, leaving me needy and desperate and wanting underneath it all.
“I want that for you, more than anything,” Jack whispers. “But you can’t just wait around for that guy to walk into your life. As the old saying goes, you might have to kiss a bunch of frogs before you kiss the price.”
“I don’t want to kiss frogs!” I wail.
He chuckles, making my head bounce against his chest. “Sorry love. Fact of life. Frogs before princes.”
Once the tears dry, I’m left feeling exhausted and worn out. If Jack’s friend wasn’t taking up residence in his bed, I’d consider closing my eyes and napping right here in his arms. The restless nights and tension are all starting to weigh heavily on me and for once I wish I had zero responsibilities and could just get in my car and drive.
But just as the thought skirts through my mind it’s quickly followed by still more guilt. I do have responsibilities and even though I’ve been given a twenty-four hour reprieve from the largest one, I still need to remain close to home. “I’m gonna go. Thanks for listening.”
He walks me to the door and offers me a firm hug. “Try not to over think all this, okay? Just allow things to happen for a change. You might be surprised.”
Yeah, right. “Okay, sure. Have a nice day.”
Jack grins and waggles one eyebrow. “Oh, I intend to.”
I spend a few minutes giving the yard the once-over, pick a few weeds, and make a mental note to remind Emmy to mow the lawn. Then I trudge back inside to my empty, silent house and once again feel the walls closing in.
The idea of spending the remaining part of the day sitting here overthinking my life makes me want to scream, so after firing off a quick text to Emmy and grabbing my purse and keys, I lock up and head out to my car. Work is what I need now, especially since I blew it off yesterday to sit in bed and wallow.
