Page 4 of About that Fling (The Can’t Have Hearts Club #2)

T he instant his eyes snapped open, Jenna was ready. She twisted the bedsheet in her fingers, steeling herself.

“I don’t normally do this,” she blurted.

He blinked at her, green eyes registering surprise, then confusion, then approval. She flushed and tugged the sheet up over her breasts, wondering if she should have opened with “good morning.”

She licked her lips and tried again, conscious of his liquid gaze, of the pleasant warmth in the thin layer of bedding that separated them.

“I don’t normally hook up with strange men I meet in bars, I mean,” she said.

“I had a couple wild months in college, and two or three flings in my twenties, but since I turned thirty, I’ve been so focused on my career that I’ve only had time for the occasional monogamous relationship—well, and one broken engagement—but that was two years ago and I’ve really only ever had one other one-night stand in my whole life, so really, this is foreign territory for me and I’m a little uncomfortable. ”

He nodded, taking in her blur of words. Or her disheveled hair and makeup. Really, she should have planned better, should have run to the bathroom first and splashed water on her face and brushed her teeth with a fingertip. God, she was so out of practice.

“Hello.”

His voice sounded low and husky, and Jenna remembered all over again why she’d tumbled into bed with a strange man.

Was it wrong that she kinda wanted to do it again?

“Hi,” she replied, feeling absurdly shy. “Hello. Hi there. Howdy.”

He smiled again, and her stupid heart did a somersault in her chest. She wanted to feel embarrassed, but instead she just wanted—well, him . Again. At least two or three more times.

He sat up in bed, the sheet falling away from his chest to reveal the sculpted muscle and fine dusting of hair she’d had such fun exploring the night before. She remembered how it felt pressed against her breasts and wondered if there was any chance she’d get to enjoy that again.

Adam closed his eyes and yawned, stretching in a way that reminded her of what it felt like to have those muscular arms anchored on either side of her body, pinning her down on a hotel bed as she gasped and writhed beneath him.

He opened his eyes and looked at her. “You’re staring.”

“Sorry.”

He smiled. “Don’t be. About anything.”

“Right.” She swallowed. “Um, the thing is?—”

He grabbed her around the waist, pulling her close and silencing whatever excuse she’d been ready to make. She thought he was going to kiss her and her whole body arched with approval—to hell with morning breath—but he stopped short and smiled into her eyes instead.

“How about we skip this part?” he asked.

“Which part is that?” She squirmed against him, then stopped as her hip bumped something hard beneath the covers.

“Not that part, though you did spend most of the night becoming intimately familiar with it. I’m also well-acquainted now with your parts, which means we’re now downright friendly.”

She flushed. “Yes, well?—”

“So how about we skip the routine where we pretend we had too much to drink and regret it and wouldn’t do again. Because I didn’t and I don’t and I would. Repeatedly.”

She blinked, a little surprised by his words, or maybe it was his body. His hand slid over her hip and she shivered in spite of the warmth. She couldn’t find any words, so she nodded. “Are you suggesting we consider this more than just a one-night stand?”

“I’m game if you are,” he said. “I enjoyed your company, even before we took our clothes off, and I think you felt the same.”

“I did. I do.”

He reached up and brushed her hair off her face, his hand large and gentle. “Look, I’m not suggesting we start addressing our wedding invitations over brunch, but I’d like to see you again.”

Jenna gasped.

“Brunch!” She threw back the covers, shooting out of bed so fast she sent him sprawling across the mattress. She scrambled around the floor, snatching clothes and shoes from piles that looked like the remnants of a yard sale.

“Wow,” he said, his eyes following her around the room. “I’ve never seen a woman so enthusiastic about mimosas and eggs Benedict.”

Jenna yanked on her panties and searched for her bra, wondering if she should shower before doing the walk of shame back home. “No, it’s brunch. I’m meeting my best friend and my aunt to look at wedding photos and baby clothes.”

His brow furrowed as Jenna grabbed one of her shoes off a high-backed chair. “Which one of you is getting married and having a baby?”

“Not me, I promise. Have you seen my bra?”

“Over there on the lampshade. Is this the aunt who gave you the note about embracing your inner sex goddess?”

Jenna felt the heat creep into her cheeks as she wriggled into her bra. “I can’t believe I showed you that. Yes, of course.”

“Mission accomplished. Consider her embraced and ravished.”

She smiled and ordered herself not to blush again. “I’ll ask for a gold star as soon as I get home.”

“So can I see you again?”

“I’m not sure.” She found her earrings on the nightstand, along with a glass of lukewarm water she gulped down in two quick swallows. “You’re not married, right?”

“Definitely not.” Something in his tone made her look up, and she caught a glint of steel in his green eyes.

“Spoken like a man who either has a body in his trunk or an ex-wife in his past.”

He smiled, and the steel softened a little. “No on the body, though I can’t say it never crossed my mind. The divorce was messy.”

“Kids?”

“No. No prison record, either, though I did get a speeding ticket when I was twenty-one.” He picked up her dress off the chair by the bed and handed it to her. “So can I see you again?”

She accepted the dress and yanked it over her head, stumbling into her shoes. “I had a really nice time with you,” she admitted. “A really nice time. Not just the sex.”

“Likewise.”

“All the articles say it’s impossible to have any sort of relationship with someone after you’ve slept together on a first date.”

“Technically, we haven’t had any dates.”

“Good point.”

“We gigolos are known for our persuasive skills and solid reasoning.”

She gave up her urge to play it cool and let the smile spread unhindered across her face. “What is it you really do for a living?”

“I’m a counselor.”

“As in attorney , or as in shrink ?”

“Yes.”

She wasn’t sure she understood the joke, or even if it was a joke, but there was one way to find out.

“Okay. We should have a real date.”

“How about dinner?”

“I like dinner.”

“Then it’s settled. Now turn around.”

She did as he said, and before she could ask why, he was zipping up the back of her dress. His fingers felt warm on her skin, and she shivered remembering all the things he’d done with those fingers.

She turned back around, not feeling any less naked now that she was fully clothed. “Thank you. For everything, I mean.”

“Don’t mention it.”

She glanced down at the nightstand and noticed a notepad beside the condom wrapper. Wrappers. She reached for the pad and a pen beside it. “Here’s my number. I’ve got a jam-packed weekend and I’m pretty tight at work this week, but maybe next Friday?”

He took the paper from her and squeezed her hand. “Next Friday. Following your busy work week spying for the Russians and giving aromatherapy to fashion models.”

She nodded, wondering if she should volunteer her real occupation or ask to know something about him besides the fact that he had a killer body and a keen ability to make her laugh and come her brains out in a span of ten minutes.

But his lips found hers, and she forgot all about her questions.

“Until next Friday,” he said, kissing her again, “I’ll be thinking about you.”

Jenna floated all the way home, feeling like a giddy preteen with a secret training bra smuggled under her T-shirt. She hesitated for an instant at the front door, breathing in the fragrance of bacon and homemade potpourri and the heady, comforting scents of home.

It hadn’t always felt like that. Not before Aunt Gertie’s broken hip and Jenna’s broken engagement.

Somehow, all the broken pieces had fit themselves together; mended into something that felt more like home than the little bungalow had ever been in the six years Jenna had lived here.

As an added bonus, it was only two blocks from Belmont Health System.

She smoothed the front of her dress, then opened the door to a warm cloud of German apple pancakes. She took two steps into the room and tripped over something. Glancing down, she saw a box filled with neat stacks of bookmarks, each one adorned with half-clad bodies and the words Panty Dropper .

She grimaced and nudged the box aside with her toe, tucking it discreetly under the bench by the door. Then she looked up to see two pairs of eyes staring at her.

So much for sneaking in undetected.

“Woohoo!” Mia called, her mouth full of pancake. Her friend tossed her long red hair over one shoulder and grinned. “Look who’s doing the walk of shame.”

Aunt Gertie beamed and set a crystal bowl of powdered sugar on the table. “Congratulations, dear. I’m so proud of you.”

Jenna set her purse down and joined them in the breakfast nook, her cheeks faintly warm with embarrassment. “Jeez, you guys—you’d think I’d earned a promotion at work instead of a notch on my bedpost.”

“You get work promotions all the time,” Mia said, waving a dismissive hand. “An all-nighter with a strange man, on the other hand—that’s a much bigger deal.”

“I appreciated your text message last night, dear,” Gertie said, patting her hand. “I was glad to know you were safe.”

Jenna picked a piece of apple from the edge of Mia’s pancake. “My man friend seemed confused that I needed to text my aunt before sleeping with him,” she admitted. “Once I explained the fling was your idea, he was a little more understanding.”

“‘My aunt told me to bone you,’” Mia said, resting a hand on her baby bump. “That’s what every man wants to hear.”

Gertie gave a satisfied smile as she peered into the oven. “Glad to be helpful.”