Page 21 of About that Fling (The Can’t Have Hearts Club #2)

“Maybe.” She nibbled her lip. “It was pretty awkward.”

“More or less awkward than when a waiter tells you to have a good meal and you reply, ‘You too!’ like a dumbass.”

It was her turn to laugh, and he watched her shoulders relax. He ached to touch them again, but settled for shoving his hands in his pockets.

“What about pushing a door and then realizing it says ‘pull’ in big red letters?” she offered.

He chuckled. “Having a coughing fit in the middle of a meeting when you choke on your tea?”

“Watching a movie with your elderly aunt and discovering there’s a really graphic sex scene.”

“Ha!” This was fun. “How about answering a question you think a stranger just asked you and then it turns out he’s wearing earbuds and talking on the phone?”

“Awkward,” she agreed. “Been there, done that. Once with a woman having a conversation on the other side of the bathroom stall. I kept answering questions she was asking, thinking ‘this is kind of weird, but maybe she’s just friendly.’ She finally put the call on hold and told me to cut it out.”

Adam laughed and leaned against the wall, really enjoying himself now. “That’s a good one. Definitely ex-fraternization level of awkwardness. How about splashing your crotch at a drinking fountain and feeling compelled to explain to everyone that you didn’t really pee yourself?”

“Oooh, good one. What about smiling at someone who’s checking you out in a bar, and then realizing they’re looking at the person behind you?”

“I’ve done that a time or two,” he admitted. “Once I was on the opposite end of it though, and a girl standing near the one I was making eyes at thought I was flirting with her. She came over to my table and introduced herself.”

“What did you do?”

He shrugged. “Bought her a drink, talked to her for an hour, and walked her home. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.”

“Geez, you really are a standup guy.”

“Or a wuss. I suppose it’s all about perspective. Okay, how about saying goodbye to someone you’ve been talking to and then realizing you’re walking the same direction?”

“Yeah, definitely awkward.” Jenna seemed to hesitate, then leaned back against the wall beside him.

Her shoulder brushed his, sending lightning bolts shooting through his torso.

“How about when a car stops to let you cross the street and you start jogging to be polite, but then realize you’re giving him a jiggle show? ”

“Nice.” He forced himself not to look at her chest. “You win. I don’t think I’ve ever given anyone a jiggle show. Not that I wouldn’t applaud yours.”

She smiled and took a deep breath before glancing back toward the dining room. Toward the linebacker. When she turned to Adam again, her smile had faded a little. “Thanks, Adam. I needed that. I should probably get back.”

“Don’t you have to pee?”

“Not really. I just needed an excuse to get up and walk around.”

“Fair enough. Also, for the record, if I could rewind and strike that last question from the record, I’d do it. In the future, I’ll do a better job of making conversation that doesn’t involve inquiring about someone’s bathroom habits.”

She smiled again, but it wasn’t reaching her eyes anymore. They’d flickered again to the table in the corner, and Adam wondered whether she was eager to get back to the guy or eager to end this conversation.

“I should probably let you go,” he said. “If the ex awkwardness gets to you, you can always pull the fire alarm.”

“Good plan.” Jenna sighed and ran her hands over her hair. “It’s okay, really. He’s a good guy, and probably exactly who I ought to be hanging out with tonight.”

Something in her tone made Adam lose the urge to joke. “How do you mean?”

“Nothing. Forget it. It’s been nice talking to you, Adam.”

“Likewise,” he said, stepping aside to let her pass. She stood there for a moment with her hands at her sides, looking a little lost. When she moved, it was in the direction of the bathroom.

“I guess I’ll go after all.”

“Good plan,” he said.

He turned and walked into the men’s room before any other idiotic utterances could pass his lips.

He took care of business quickly, then washed his hands while looking in the mirror and giving himself a silent pep talk about not lusting after women he had no business pursuing.

She’d made it clear that wasn’t in the cards for them.

There was no point giving it any further thought.

He left the men’s room and headed for the front counter, happy to discover the pizza he’d ordered was ready to go. If he’d had it delivered instead of walking four blocks from his hotel, he never would have seen Jenna. He tried to decide if that was a good thing.

The pizza box was warm and fragrant and bigger than it had any right to be, considering he was a guy who planned to eat it alone in front of the television in his hotel room on a Friday night.

He tucked it against his chest and headed for the door, but he couldn’t resist the urge to look back at the corner table.

Jenna had rejoined her ex. Whatever they were talking about looked intimate, and their heads were bent close together. Even from this distance, Adam saw something tender and wistful in her eyes. When the guy reached out and put his hand on Jenna’s, she didn’t pull away.

Adam hadn’t realized he’d stopped walking until someone bumped him from behind. Even then, he stood frozen in place. Something twisted in his gut, and he stood there transfixed, his eyes on Jenna and the man she’d once planned to spend the rest of her life with. How long ago was it?

She must have felt his eyes on her then, and she looked up.

She didn’t seem startled at all to see Adam watching her.

She blinked slowly, then looked down at her hand.

The other man’s palm still covered it, and she seemed to hesitate a moment.

Then she drew her other hand up and placed it on top of his.

A hand sandwich, Adam thought absurdly, then turned away. He stepped out into the rainy Portland evening, wishing like hell he’d had the pizza delivered.

An hour later, Adam sat shirtless in his boxer shorts on sheets too clean to be truly comfortable.

He’d polished off his pizza and felt a little sick.

He was pretty sure it was just the pepperoni, but who was he kidding?

The image of Jenna with that other guy kept flashing through his brain, which was stupid.

He had no right to be jealous. No right to judge her for reconnecting with a man she’d loved enough to agree to marry at one point.

The idea of getting back together with Mia seemed ridiculous to him now, but there’d been a time he would have considered it. Could he blame Jenna for doing the same with her ex?

He picked up the remote and began flipping through channels, trying to get the image of her out of his mind.

QVC was selling some sort of kebab maker that caught Adam’s interest for at least twenty minutes.

One of the Rocky movies—was it IV or V?—flickered on the next channel.

He flipped the remote button again, feeling irritated.

Why were there so many home-improvement shows?

Adam sighed and set the remote down. Nothing on TV was any match for the image of Jenna’s eyes meeting his from across the room, the sight of her fingers entwined with someone else’s.

He needed to get the fuck over it; that was obvious. There was at least another month left in his contract with Belmont, maybe longer, but he could at least do a better job of keeping her out of his field of vision. Out of his thoughts.

Grabbing the remote, he flipped off the television, then picked up his laptop.

He opened up the folder containing all his materials for the Belmont negotiations.

The screen lit up with an Excel spreadsheet he’d been working on earlier, and he reached for his glasses.

Shoving them onto his nose, he began making notes in the file.

He’d have to remember to talk with Human Resources about some changes in the dental plan, and he needed to crunch a few numbers on some proposed changes to the ETO system.

That was going to be a contentious discussion, especially with the folks from the nurses’ union.

He made a note to talk with the CEO about the legal ramifications of?—

What the hell was he doing?

He frowned, staring down at the spreadsheet. Working late on a Friday night? This is what the old Adam Thomas would do. He’d stay up late crunching numbers and planning strategies instead of doing something fun or engaging. Instead of going home to his wife.

Okay, so there was no wife now. He was glad about that, but it didn’t mean he had free license to behave like a workaholic jerk.

Closing out the file, he clicked to his Internet browser.

He ignored the Facebook icon, not giving in to the ridiculous urge to look up Jenna or her linebacker boyfriend.

He hesitated a moment, then scrolled to his favorite travel website and began browsing.

How long had it been since he’d taken a vacation? Hawaii would be nice this time of year, or maybe somewhere in the Caribbean. He thought about tropical drinks and warm, sandy beaches. About palm trees swaying in the breeze and calypso music lilting across the bay. About Jenna in a bikini and?—

No. Focus, dammit.

Maybe a vacation was exactly what he needed. Something to reset his clock, give him some new perspective on life. Maybe he could take up scuba diving or bird watching.

A knock sounded at the door, bursting in on his thoughts. He frowned down at his watch. Who the hell would stop by at eight on a Friday evening? No one even knew he was here.

He rolled out of bed, not bothering to pull on a shirt or pants. Anyone bold enough to knock on a stranger’s hotel room door after dark on a Friday evening could damn well deal with the sight of him in Batman boxers.

Adam pulled the door open and froze. Jenna stood there in the hallway, her hair matted and rain soaked, her hands clenched in front of her. Her mascara was streaked from rain or from tears, and she looked ready to break in two.

“Jenna?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, and launched herself into his arms.