She flushed at his praise. “W-what, uh, what do you do?”
He sucked in a breath and struck a muscle-man pose. “I own a few gyms in the Valley. Nothing huge and we’ve suffered quite a bit with the recent economic downturn. But at least I get my own membership comped. Plus I get to let loose some of my sadistic side when I play personal trainer.”
Her lips twitched at his self-deprecating humor. God, he was cute. Cute, funny and sexy as hell. But he wasn’t hers. She mentally slapped herself. This is a short-term fling, remember? Plus he was gorgeous and hot and probably stared at thin, little aerobics instructors at his gym all day. Apples and oranges.
“Listen, Lauren, tonight was fun…”
She froze at Jamie’s stuttering parley. Here it was—the casual brush-off. God, she hated these kinds of situations, not that she had been in many before with her very short sexual history, but still. Awkwardness was not exactly fun-time town.
“…we could get together back in Vegas? I could introduce you around. Maybe take you to a munch?”
Taking his thinly veiled hint and the offer of a casual meet-up, Lauren stood and wrapped as much of the sheet around her body as possible.
“Maybe. We’ll have to see how our schedules line up when we get back.” With a vacant smile in Jamie’s direction, she swiped up her clothes in one hand and made a beeline for the bathroom door.
She closed the door behind her with a gentle click. A dishevelled, wild-eyed woman stared back at her in the mirror. Who was that? What had happened to the staid, reliable, copy editor who cleaned up everyone else’s mess and made none of her own? Somehow she had found herself in lust and tipping the scales toward love with the most wrong man ever. He could and did have any woman he wanted. You’re only a weekend hook-up, she whispered to her reflection in the mirror as she dressed. You can’t and shouldn’t expect any more from him than that.
As she straightened her hair in the mirror, she tried to ignore the small pang in her chest at the pronouncement.
* * *
Jamie watched the door close behind Lauren with confusion. What had happened? They’d had the most amazing sex, if he did say so himself, and she dashed into the bathroom like she couldn’t get away from him quick enough. What happened to the after-sex cuddling?
It might make him a little less masculine to some, but that was one of the many parts of sex he enjoyed. Looked forward to even. Well, he’d have to have a little talk with her about it. His heart clenched at the implication of the thought. As if they had a future. After the way he treated her tonight, he would be lucky if she even said goodbye before she scooted out the door. Since when had he turned into this asshole jerk? Fuck, this is why he didn’t do relationships. He wasn’t even in one yet and already he was fucking it up.
The movement of the bathroom door jerked him from his melancholy thoughts. Lauren stood in the half-open doorway, fully dressed with a stony expression on her face.
“I—I…um, need to get back,” she finished lamely.
Jamie stared at her in mute shock. He was getting ready to talk to her about maybe again, maybe even a future together, and she was clearly not interested. Eager even to get out of the room. Fuck. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him.
His screwed-up childhood had once again come back to haunt him. She probably wouldn’t be so eager to leave if he hadn’t pushed her to safe-word out with his stupid threesome bullshit.
Maybe he could—
Lauren strode across the room to stand in front of the bedroom doorway. “I—I just wanted you to know this—” she gestured to the bed, “—was probably the best thing that has happened to me. You’ve turned something on inside of me that I never knew…” She shrugged. “Thank you.”
And then she was gone.
Jamie sat in the quiet of his room, stunned at her rapid departure. Thank you? Why would she thank him? He should be— Damn it!
Grabbing the quilt from the floor, he wrapped it around his waist and hurtled from the room, desperate to stop her.
“Lauren!” He tore down the hallway as he watched the elevator door glide closed. He stared at his blurred reflection in the door with distaste. “Fuck!” He lashed out and kicked the pathetic moron glaring back at him. An electric jolt of pain raced up his leg to remind him that he was barefoot. And a jackass.
After hobbling down the hall, he stopped in front of his closed suite door. The perfect cap on his stupidity. He was locked out. But he couldn’t go down to the lobby like this and he had no clue what floor, let alone room, Lauren was staying in. Or if she was alone for that matter. Shoulders slumped in defeat, he walked down the hall to the only other door on the floor and hoped like hell Sawyer was in.
He wasn’t concerned about the shit he was going to get from his best friend. It wouldn’t be half as bad as the ass kicking he was giving himself.
* * *
A week later, Lauren stood bent over the worktable doing the one thing she hated more than anything about her job—proofreading the classifieds. Usually it was reserved for the most junior of copy editors, but unfortunately for her, Simone had called in sick today like she had the past three Wednesdays. She probably did it just because she knew it stuck Lauren with the crappy task. It was an onerous job because there was actually very little to be done. The clients provided the words and paid by the letter so any spelling or grammatical errors had to stay. But the paper required an editor to proof the column for any illegal activity that might have slipped past the company’s receptionist.
Her mind wandered while she scanned the small type in front of her. She’d made up with Crystal the morning after her night with Jamie. Crystal might be travelling down a road Lauren would never have chosen, but after what her weekend with Jamie had taught her about herself, who was she to judge a person’s life? Her sister had assumed she’d blabbed to their mother and had run to tell her side of the story. For all her claims of cavalier adulthood, Crystal was still a little girl.
Their mother had had a conniption fit and forbade the marriage. Like that would stop Crystal from marrying Pierce. If anything it would only encourage her. She did like to think she was the ultimate bad girl after all.
Bad girl. Lauren’s heart clenched at the phrase. Jamie. She blinked back a film of tears. Crap. She wasn’t going to agonize over that part of the weekend. She’d learned a lot about herself. She should be embracing her newfound sexual side, not moping over what might have been. Maybe she should take Sawyer up on his offer to escort her to the Cave on Friday. She had no idea how he’d known how to contact her, but he had. They didn’t mention Jamie once but he’d offered to escort her, introduce her around to some people. The opportunity had been niggling in the back of her mind all week. As much as she was afraid of seeing Jamie again—and have him be polite to her—she really didn’t want to miss out on the chance to explore this side of her. Part of her was afraid she’d look like a crazy stalker chick if she showed up on his best friend’s arm. But she’d already put Sawyer off once; if she didn’t say yes now, he might not ask again.
Of course it could be the fact that she was perusing the relationship ads that was making her melancholy. Like this one:
Looking for lost submissive. L, I want more than just a weekend. If you’re willing, all you have to do is come downstairs. I’ll be waiting in the parking lot— J.
Talk about crazy stalker! Waiting in the parking lot? Some people. She shook her head. Wait a minute… L and J? No, there was no way in the world he would do something like that for her. How would he know she’d even edit the classifieds this week and on which day? She was nuts to even think it. And yet she couldn’t stop her gaze from wandering to the window. Would he? But of course from this angle she wouldn’t be able to see out to the parking lot below.
She’d feel like a moron later, but she still had to look. Walking quickly across the deserted office floor, she stopped at the window, closed her eyes and took a bracing breath before looking out.
T
here he was. Even from above, she had no problem identifying the man getting out of the lifted pickup.
Without a thought, she tore from the office and raced down the flight of stairs. She came to a skittering stop at the landing of the second flight of stairs when she heard his voice.
“—like to talk to someone about advertising space in an upcoming issue.”
Her shoulders sagged at the realization that he wasn’t here for her. She dug her nails into her palms as she considered her next move. Should she talk to him? What was she going to say? What did her hair look like? Of course, she couldn’t think of anything and apparently her appearance would have to cut it because Jamie had spotted her.
“Lauren?” His husky tenor was as gorgeous as she remembered. As was the rest of him. Head to toe, he was perfection. God, she was a love-struck ditz. Of course he sounded the same—it was only a week ago.
Taking a deep breath, she walked down the rest of the stairs and waited as he crossed the lobby to meet her. “Hey, Jamie. I—I, um… So how have you been?” Where was that confident woman she had promised herself she would be? She closed her eyes in embarrassment.
“A moron.”
Blinking at his terse statement, she searched his face for some clue. “A—a moron? You?” She laughed unevenly.
“Yeah, I never should’ve let you get away that night.” He cupped her cheek with his right hand. “I was a fool. A moron. Anything you can think to call me, I’ve called myself already. Or Sawyer has.”
“S-Sawyer? But he invited me—”
“To the Cave? Yeah. I asked him to. I thought maybe if I had you on my home turf, this would be easier. That I would feel like less of a dimwit. But apparently I couldn’t bring the mountain to Mohamed.” He ran a thumb across her lips.
Mountain? He wanted her to be the crazy stalker chick? Her?
“So that was you? You put in the ad? You’re J?”
He chuckled and she could swear his cheeks turned a touch red. “You saw that? I, uh, didn’t know if you read all your magazine’s classifieds, but I planned to be in the parking lot when the issue came out on Friday. I had roses and…never mind.”
Her heart warmed at the mental picture and his apparent embarrassment. “And today you’re here to set up some advertising for your gyms?”
“No, well yes, but mostly I came in for a chance to see you.” He ducked his head for a moment and when he looked back up at her she gasped at the emotion so close to the surface. He looked scared and nervous as hell. If it were possible her heart melted even more. “I’m so sorry I forced you to safe-word out. I have issues with sharing…and trusting. Goes back a long way… But I’m not going to let my past hurt you again. Am I too late? Can you forgive me for freaking out on you? Making you run away?”
She stared up at him. “Making me run? I left because that’s the code. It was just a weekend fling. We agreed no strings, remember?”
Jamie closed his eyes with a soft curse. “Yeah that’s how it started anyway. But later… That second night, I realized I wanted more. But then you left before I could say anything, and I’ve been out of my mind trying to come up with ways to make it up to you. Hoping that this amazing woman with the largest heart I know could ever forgive me and give me another chance.”
Someone tittered behind her and she winced at the reminder they were having this conversation in the lobby. Her palms sweated and her knees trembled, but the way he made her feel was worth any amount of embarrassment.
“I—I…” She stopped and cleared her throat. “I don’t think you’ve done anything to apologize for. I was the moron. I could’ve saved us both a week of could’ve beens if I just stuck it out and confronted you like a grown-up. I’m so sorry, Jamie. Did I screw this up? Can you forgive me for being such a silly, self-doubting twit?”
“Oh, I think you’ll have to make it up to me first.” His eyes promised all sorts of wicked things she probably hadn’t even heard of—let alone performed. “Are you sure you’re willing to date a kinky perv like me?”
She shivered under the power of his gaze.
“Oh say yes, sweetheart. With an ass like that, anything he did has to be forgiven.” Sharon, Vegas Lifestyle’s seventy-two-year-old receptionist, cackled from her desk across the room.
“Thanks, ma’am.” Jamie chuckled. “So, what do you say, Lauren?”
Lauren’s cheeks heated as she saw the crowd gathered around them. She took a deep breath, pushed past her crushing embarrassment and answered. “If it’ll be anything like that weekend—hell yes. I loved every minute of it.”
And before she could blink, Jamie swept her into his arms for a crushing hug before his lips descended on hers. He took her mouth in a hungry, dominating kiss. His tongue easily parted her lips and swept inside to mark her as his.
Just as Lauren’s knees began to give out on her, Sharon cleared her throat. “You might want to give her some space, boy-o. We’re going to have to start charging admission soon.”
Lauren pulled away with a gasp and then quickly buried her face in his shirt when she heard the catcalls from their audience. “Oh God.”
“Kitten, if you’re going to date me, you’re going to have to get used to a little play in public—though I won’t be sharing you.”
Lauren closed her eyes and inhaled that amazing aroma of Jamie. She remembered that first night again, the look in his eyes and the feel of his hands on her. Crowds were a small sacrifice if it meant she could be in his arms and over his knee.
“Yes, sir.”
About the Author
Gillian has always loved books. And has had a serious soft spot for romances ever since the tender age of twelve when she would steal her mother’s Harlequin books and read them under her covers with a flashlight. But the writing bug didn’t hit until more than ten years later after a dare from her husband. (It might have also involved a wall-bangingly bad book.) Now she can’t imagine doing anything else.
Outside of writing, Gillian loves to spend her time snuggling with her husband, playing with her dogs and travelling to exotic places. After living abroad for four years, she is very happy to be back home in the U.S. and enjoying the wonders of Walmart.
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ISBN: 978-1-4268-9339-1
Copyright © 2012 by Gillian Archer
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All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
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