Somebody to Love

by Ann Christopher

  But not yet.

  “All packed,” she said with the forced cheer that she’d mastered in the last few months. “Ready for the movers.”

  “I’m happy to help. Let me know if you need anything.”

  Right. As if she’d discover that she needed, say, someone to help mount her big-screen TV in her new apartment and would think, hmmm, the man who made Alanis Morrisette’s “You Oughta Know” my own personal anthem is the one person I can depend on right now.

  “Thanks, but I’ve got everything under control.” Possibly the biggest lie she’d ever told, but she felt she delivered it with convincing sincerity. “You two have a great night, okay? Bye, Miss Ella. See you tomorrow!”

  With that, she smiled and waved her little heart out for Ella’s benefit before hastily hanging up and tossing the phone onto the sofa. Then she rested her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands and tried to think.

  What the hell had gotten into her today?

  Wasn’t it enough that she already had her plate full of life changes, including the recent end of her relationship with Edward, the resulting stress of somehow forging a workable co-parenting relationship and her pending good-bye to NYC, the best city in the world, and the move back to her hometown?

  Did she need any more of an emotional roller coaster than that?

  Why, yes. Evidently she did.

  Because today, in the space of a few short hours, she’d tanked her modeling career and had sex with a strange man.

  Great sex with a strange man.

  All of which begged the question: what the hell was wrong with her?

  Put aside the whole career thing for a moment, although that was bad enough, God knew.

  What the hell had gotten into her when it came to Sean Baldwin?

  She was a mother! A mother!

  Oh sure, she might recognize her innate right to a personal life in the same abstract way she recognized that she probably had a right to buy her apartment building under the right circumstances. She might also dabble in the online dating world, meeting up with the occasional guy in a public place for coffee or drinks. But those half-hearted flirtations never went anywhere. They never amounted to anything.

  And now this! Sean!

  It was as if he’d taken one look at her and turned her into a completely different person. The Amber she’d known herself to be this whole time was smart, mature and responsible. She didn’t feel connections with new guys she’d stumbled upon in train stations. She didn’t invite them back to her precious apartment sanctuary, where she and her daughter lived. She definitely didn’t experience the abandoned joy of toe-curling sex with them.

  Yet here she was. And she didn’t even have the convenient excuse of drunken debauchery. That mezcal shot and glass of wine hadn’t done anything for her.

  Thank God the phone call had given her that well-timed jolt of reality. So she’d had a moment and enjoyed herself. No big deal. She was a woman with a woman’s desires who hadn’t had sex in months. She was allowed.

  But now was the time to check back into her normal life and remember who she was and who she wasn’t.

  She was the unemployed mother of a small child. She needed to get settled in her new apartment and find a job. ASAP.

  She wasn’t a woman who forgot herself, even for an incredibly sexy and intriguing man.

  Who, by the way, was currently posted up in her bed and for all she knew might or might not be a stalker.

  Which begged the question: what was the protocol here? Why had no one ever told her the methods for getting a man out of your apartment after you’d had sex with him?

  Well, she’d better figure it out, she thought, blowing out a breath as she sat up straight and smoothed her hair back into place. She couldn’t very well—

  “Hey,” Sean said, emerging from the shadowy hallway and into the living room.

  She jumped out of her skin.

  “Sean.”

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “It’s okay,” she said, registering several key facts at once.

  First, that his body, now clad only in those boxer briefs, really belonged on display in a museum of masculine perfection, where people from all around the world could come, pay their admission and admire it to their heart’s content.

  Those shoulders! That ripped belly! Those long legs!

  Just looking at him gave her a twinge of renewed desire in her achy private region, and that was with her pointedly ignoring his package, which was a thing of beauty, even in its current dormant state, his deliciously rumpled look and, worst of all, his soulful brown eyes.

  The second key fact was that he was a big guy with a strong body. She was tall and reasonably fit, yeah, but he probably outweighed her by a muscular seventy-five pounds. What the hell did she think she would do if he acted up when she asked him to leave?

  Third, what would she do if he told her to have a nice life and left before she could ask him to leave? Her battered ego, which was already on life support, probably wouldn’t survive.

  Fourth, and this was the biggie, she really didn’t want him to leave.

  But he had to go. They’d had their fun, but now it was time for her to resume her regularly scheduled life and responsibilities.

  He hesitated in the archway, cocking his head as he studied her.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Of course,” she said, too quickly.

  He nodded, but looked unconvinced as he came closer.

  She popped up, unnerved by him looming over her. Although, to be fair, he wasn’t really looming. Just standing there with a growing look of concern.

  He froze, his expression cooling by several degrees. He looked far more hurt than threatening, but you just never knew. She thought back to that time the neighbor’s German shepherd had escaped his yard back when she was a kid, and she’d crossed his path while walking down the street to her friend’s house. Zeus had wagged his tail and seemed perfectly happy to see her. Until she started to pet him and he growled, baring giant fangs.

  The ridiculousness of her situation really hit her in that moment. It wasn’t like she’d shown much concern for her personal safety fifteen minutes ago, back when she’d had her legs wrapped around Sean’s waist, or fifteen minutes before that, when she’d invited him back to her apartment in the first place.

  But that was then, when she was under the influence of Sean’s powerful pheromones. This was now. And like Maya Angelou always used to say, “When you knew better, you did better.” Or some such.

  Sean opened his mouth. Hesitated.

  “I, ah, heard you talking a minute ago. When I went to the bathroom.”

  She nodded, knowing she’d never talk her way out of this and dreading where the conversation was going.

  Sean ducked his head. Rubbed his nape. Dropped his hand and met her eye again.

  “This is none of my business. I have no rights here. I know that. But you seem upset. And I thought I heard a man’s voice.” He blew out a breath. “Putting two and two together, I’m guessing that was your ex?”

  “That was him,” she said, focusing on being brisk and unconcerned as she retied her belt because that was easier than facing the growing hurt in his expression. “Bad timing.”

  “Agreed.” He floundered for a minute, his jaw tightening. “Look. I’m not a game player. I don’t know what the rules are here. But I like you a lot, and you said it was over with him.” He took a deep breath, color concentrating in his cheeks and ears as he squared his shoulders. “I like you. A lot. We’re both going to be living in Journey’s End. I want to see you again.”

  Not exactly Romeo’s speech beneath the balcony in terms of flowery romance, but Sean’s honest vulnerability was still the best thing she’d seen and heard in a long time. It made her swoon. Just a little bit.

  And she did like him. Didn’t his honesty deserve her honesty in return?

  She took a minute, working hard to get her thoughts together
and say this the right way.

  “I like you, too. You probably noticed that.”

  Unmistakable relief washed over him, warming up his expression until his eyes glowed as he reached out a hand to her.

  “Then come back to bed, Sweetness.”

  Well, what could she do? She might have a new resolve, but she was only a weak female human. And there was definitely something irresistible about this Sean Baldwin.

  So she took his hand, savoring his strength, body heat and a renewed connection between them as he reeled her in and held her tight, one hand delving deep into her hair and the other on her ass. Tipped her head up for his kiss, which was lingering and sweet. Endlessly persuasive.

  But then ambivalence caught her in a stranglehold. True, it would be easy to let the sexual side of her stay out and play for a little while longer as she and Sean explored each other. She wanted to. He wanted to. They were consenting adults, after all. But this was all too much, and her spinning head needed to think.

  She broke the kiss with all the reluctance in the world, turning her head when his mouth followed hers. His groan of frustration did not help her resolve, but, to his credit, he dropped his hands and let her go.

  She ran her hands through her hair, grappling with her words again.

  “I need to think about all this.” She made a stab at a smile to soften her words. “And I need to finish packing.”

  He blinked, that shadow creeping across his face again.

  “Understood. I’m good with boxes. And we could grab a late supper after.”

  God, he was killing her, this one. He made her heart ache.

  Opening her mouth, she prayed the right words were on their way.

  “And you probably want to catch that last train,” she added gently.

  He stiffened, but kept his game face on. Nodded and turned to take a couple steps toward the bedroom before turning back, looking bruised.

  Bewildered.

  “Are you going back on your no regrets promise?”

  Well, there was a tough question.

  “I’m trying not to,” she admitted. “But I don’t usually do this sort of thing. I just got out of a long-term relationship a few months ago. I was minding my own business in the train station this morning, thinking about getting my career back on track and getting settled in a new apartment in a new town. And this is a lot.”

  “Between us, you mean?”

  “Yeah.”

  He nodded, some of the tension easing from his face.

  “Agreed. But we don’t have to get it all figured out tonight or tomorrow. We just have to recognize that this is special and keep showing up to see where it goes.”

  That made a lot of sense to her. Too bad doubt still had such a grip on her.

  And as for the daughter that she’d thus far failed to disclose? The idea of introducing that additional complication on top of everything else at this moment seemed every bit as smart as using your curling iron while showering. Things were bound to blow up in your face.

  She didn’t know whether she and Sean had any sort of a chance at anything. But if they did, she wasn’t ready to see it all blown to smithereens if Sean wasn’t into little kids.

  Because, come on. What kind of guy anticipated a whole messy personal situation like hers when he went home with some woman he’d just met in a train station?

  A guy like Sean?

  Please.

  He could have anyone he wanted.

  “Amber? Am I making any sense?”

  She blinked and nodded, pulling herself out of her dark thoughts with a pulley and a crowbar.

  “Yep. Absolutely.”

  Sean didn’t seem reassured.

  “So…We’ll talk? In a day or two?”

  “Sounds good,” she said, trying to muster up a smile even though her cheeks now felt as though they’d been encased in Plexiglas.

  The sound of her voice rang false even to her own ears.

  Sean studied her long and hard, his expression indecipherable.

  “You’re not about to ghost me, are you?”

  She opened her mouth, but her voice was now operating on a delay.

  “Of course not,” she told him.

  Chapter Seven

  Sean hurried down DeGroot Avenue in Journey’s End one evening several weeks later, a couple of days before Christmas, trying to listen to his buddy Daniel Harper’s ongoing monologue while also surreptitiously scanning every passerby for Amber’s face. But there was no sign of her. There never was.

  Amber.

  Aka the woman who’d ghosted him. After she’d stood there and told him she wouldn’t.

  She hadn’t texted or called. Hadn’t returned his texts or calls.

  His body tensed anew every time he thought of her. Approximately one billion times per day.

  If it weren’t for the ongoing ache in his chest, he’d think he dreamed up the whole glorious interlude with her. After all, how likely was it that he’d stumbled upon a woman who possessed all the brains, warmth, humor and supermodel good looks that anyone could ever want? Who was brave and decisive, making bold decisions about her career and future rather than fumbling her way from one thing to the next the way he did? A woman who was also, unbelievably, sympathetic about Sean’s frustrating job situation, seemed to get him and was as violently attracted to him as he was to her?

  Yeah, sure, Baldwin.

  And you’ll find a block of shrink-wrapped hundreds waiting for you under the Christmas tree in a couple days.

  But she did exist. She’d talked to him. Smiled at him. Laughed with him. Fucked the hell out of him.

  Unfortunately for him and his greedy dick, she’d also evidently realized what he’d already known. Namely that she could do a million times better than a lame-ass Charlie Brown loser like him. Hence, the ghosting.

  Sean’s morale plummeted another thousand notches as he trudged alongside Daniel.

  Despite what she’d said with a straight and evidently sincere face, he’d never had a real chance with her. A man like him (no job; no car; no place of his own; dwindling savings; imperceptible self-confidence) never could. Hell, maybe she was hugged up to the peacock from the train station right now, holding hands as he drove her to a fancy dinner in his freaking G-Wagon.

  Shit.

  The mere idea made Sean’s belly tighten even further around the knot that now seemed permanently lodged there.

  Honestly, this debacle was his own fault for letting himself get excited about one woman in particular rather than limiting his interest to his generic Wouldn’t mind getting with her level. He knew he wasn’t in the market for any sort of romantic entanglement at this juncture in his life, what with his precarious job situation and his entire future up in the air. He knew women tended to send mixed signals the way Amazon sent packages. Hadn’t his painful history with Dara back in law school taught him that much? Didn’t he warn his friends to watch themselves every time they showed signs of mooning over some woman and acting like a kicked puppy? Didn’t he always try to be the voice of romantic reason? Wasn’t he the poster child for the emotionally detached single life—yesterday, today and forever?

  Now here he was, sick. Exactly the reward he deserved for being stupid enough to forget all of his own best advice.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  “Can you believe this shit, man?” Daniel muttered for roughly the millionth time in the last couple of hours, glancing around at him.

  Startled, Sean blinked himself out of his own personal funk and tried to get his head back in the game. Quaint DeGroot Avenue rushed back to his awareness with all its elegant holiday charm. The current decor included streetlamps strung with plaid ribbons, twinkling white lights, Christmas trees up and down the street and a large menorah inside the bookstore window.

  Sean felt marginally better.

  He’d grown quite fond of his adopted town, to be honest. On a regular day, the setting alone would help lift his mood.

  But this
was no ordinary day. This day was actually much worse than all the miserable days he’d endured lately. Hard to believe, but true.

  Today they were headed to the charred clapboard building a little farther down the bustling main street. The one where a kitchen fire earlier had threatened to take out some of the people he loved.

  “It’s a miracle no one was hurt,” Daniel continued.

  “Agreed,” Sean said grimly.

  Daniel’s parents, Nigel and Ada Harper, owned Harper Rose Bistro, a Journey’s End landmark. The place had gone up in flames that morning, scaring everyone to death. Everyone including Daniel’s four brothers, James, Isaiah, Ethan and Edward, and their various wives and girlfriends, with whom Sean had grown friendly, if not close, since his arrival in town with Daniel back in October. He and Daniel had come for James’s wedding, whereupon Nigel and Ada absorbed Sean as one of their own, going so far as to allow him to stay rent-free in their carriage house until he landed a job and got back on his feet.

  Matter of fact, Sean considered Daniel to be the brother he wished he could have had instead of Mike, but wishes were like farts. Everybody had them.

  Anyway, Sean and Daniel had hurried back from their day trip to Manhattan as soon as they’d heard the news about the fire. Now here they were.

  “My mother is going to be freaking out,” Daniel went on.

  “She will have completely lost her mind by now,” Sean said.

  Daniel grimaced. “She’s going to—hang on. Here comes Raymond.”

  Raymond Martin, a well-dressed, fair-skinned silver fox and Journey’s End’s favorite real estate agent, hurried up holding a shopping bag full of brightly wrapped Christmas gifts in one hand and his Jack Russell terrier, Bobsy, in a football hold in the other hand.

  “Merry Christmas, gents. What a mess, eh?” He tipped his head toward the restaurant, his cheeks ruddy from the cold. “I was just down there offering my condolences a few minutes ago. Guess it could have been much worse, but still.”

  “Yeah. Much worse,” Daniel said grimly.

  “What’s up, Raymond?” Sean said, his attention snagging on the dog, who sported a lurid plaid Christmas coat and tiny red boots on his paws instead of his usual seasonal bandanna. “Why are you carrying this hound? Has he got some leg injury?”