Page 57 of Tender Offer (Chance at Love #3)

Emma

“ D o you have to go?”

I glance up at doe eyes in the mirror and bite back a smile. West waits for me to change my mind, and for a brief moment I allow myself to entertain the thought that he wants me to stay for more than my body.

He’s cute—adorable, even—but he has much to learn.

My attention falls back to the concealer in my hand.

It will be a miracle if I don’t walk out looking like a yellow highlighter.

This lighting is awful, even for a standard hotel room decorated in three shades of beige.

I drop makeup into my overnight bag and adjust the strapless sweater dangling off my shoulder. “I had a good time last night,” I say.

Gracious tongue.

Steady strokes.

Four out of five stars.

West sits up in bed with a grin too big for a woman about to leave him. The tartan duvet pools at his waist, showcasing an array of lean muscles engraved into tanned ivory skin.

“So let’s do it again,” he begs, his lower lip dipping into a pout.

There’s a lightness in his tone, one mixed with confidence and the hope that his ability to please is enough to keep me here.

Firm hands tatted at the forearms push the rest of the decorative pillows to the floor.

West leans against the wooden headboard and spreads his legs to stroke his length over the sheets.

Tempting.

Men in their twenties are wild cards. Most fuck with the intensity of a jackrabbit, which is why I keep them at bay.

Not this one. West was a pleasant surprise who didn’t let direction hurt his ego.

Guys my age could learn from him. Even at twenty-nine, five years younger than me, he took the time to discover what pleased me instead of what got him off.

West and I met at the kickoff mixer for the weeklong singles’ retreat. I’m not here for the hope of a happily ever after. I’m here for dick and to pull my best friend out of the fortress of her home back in Austin. She’s on her way to divorce, but that doesn’t mean life is over.

Justice’s night ended exactly as expected. She took one look at people on the prowl for love and lust before she headed up to our suite and spent the night with room service.

I had other plans.

West caught my eye behind the bar across the crowded room.

It didn’t take long for our stares to linger before I sat on the stool in front of him.

We exchanged names while he made my martini.

His forearms flexed under the rolled sleeves of his white button-down.

The lust in his eyes reflected in mine as our fingers touched on the stem of my glass.

We went up to his room after midnight with the promise of orgasms.

A delicious welcome to Vail, Colorado, after a full day of traveling.

Hooded blue eyes pierce mine in a silent plea for me to stay. One night is all I’ll give.

There are the Joan Claytons of the world—women like Justice who color-code their linens and believe in soulmates.

I never felt an itch to attach forever to a partner.

I’m with the Toni Childs of the world—those who try you on for size before swapping you out with their outfits.

Relationships slow you down and expose you to wounds.

She tried the “I do,” and look what happened.

I’ve seen a loveless marriage up close. Now, I’m witnessing the aftermath of a broken love story with my best friend.

I’ll pass.

The hiss of the zipper on my thigh-high boot breaks our stare. West moves to pull me down when I saunter over to the bed, but he isn’t quick enough. I meant what I said. Last night was enjoyable, but this eagerness for me to stay is why I don’t make a habit of sleeping over.

I saw.

I conquered.

I came—more than once.

“Now, West.” I straddle him for no other reason than to be a tease.

“You were good.” My lips press to the shell of his ear.

“Let’s see what this week holds. I know where to find you.

” I ruffle the dirty blonde waves I gripped when he explored the depths between my thighs, grab my overnight bag, and make my exit without a last glance.

West is a fuck boy in its purest form. He reeks of it, much like his Old Spice deodorant.

His boy-next-door good looks and pickup lines might leave others pressed, but not me.

I’m not a woman to look for more out of a one-night stand.

We take what we need and move on. No idling.

No waiting by the phone. No pouting of any kind—a lesson for West to learn fast.

The best way to teach is by example, right?

The front door closes behind me with a soft click. I didn’t expect to sleep with someone this early into the retreat, but what can I say? West is good with his hands, behind the bar and in bed. He had the stamina to match my pace, but when I’m done, I’m done.

I like sex—love it, crave it—and enjoy the act with whatever flavor I want to taste for the night. Sleepovers are usually off the table unless I want seconds. I did with West, but now we can move on.

My phone pings with a text that pulls a smile at the Sister, Sister melody. No matter the years that pass—twenty, in our case—my best friend always checks in to make sure I’m okay. I don’t tolerate many people in my life, but Justice will never not be my person.

Justice

Hey, about to order room service for breakfast. Want anything?

A room service attendant smiles at my nod and stops in front of a door across the hall. The scent of eggs and French toast wafts from plates on the cart. Breakfast does sound good.

I shift my overnight bag on my shoulder to type out a message to Justice I’ll be up to our suite soon.

Unlike the standard rooms, ours has two bedrooms, one on each side of the wide living space.

There’s a fireplace and jacuzzi on the balcony with views of the surrounding valley.

It’s rich in luxury and knotted wood flooring.

Hey, hon.

Another message appears once I hit send, stuttering my silent walk over plush carpeting to the elevator. My jaw tightens at the name on the screen, one that paints my cheeks the same color as my manicure.

Carter Davis.

Carter

You can’t ignore me forever.

The hell I can’t.

Doesn’t he have more important matters? A press conference? The rider that guarantees my father’s favorite almond brand will be at his next event? Annoying Senator Douglass’s daughter is not on his congressional to-do list, I’m sure.

I flip back to the text with Justice in a huff.

The problem with a twenty-year friendship is that will see right through any attempt to act normal, and she will push for answers.

It’s in her nature to care, the same way it is to hug for no damn reason.

I’ll handle Carter myself. This week is about Justice, not me.

She went through too much for me to pile on my mess.

In less than twenty-four hours, we discovered the estranged husband she left seven months ago is at this retreat, which I picked for our annual girls’ trip.

She needed time away from drowning herself in work as a distraction from her separation, to meet new people and decide if divorce is what she really wants.

Clearly, her ex is wasting no time getting back in the game.

Our trip comes with a week’s worth of activities I’d choose a colonoscopy over doing, but if snowmobiling and horseback riding put a smile on Jay’s face, I’ll grit my teeth.

I slipped in a spa day and a whiskey tasting to lower her guard.

Speed dating and the private date that comes with it will be a tough sell, but Justice will survive.

Carter

Call me. You have ten minutes.

This asshole.

I close my eyes and draw a deep breath. Why do you fight us?

Carter’s words in my father’s study last Thanksgiving play on a loop.

The way he whispered them while my mother argued with the kitchen staff about cranberry sauce in the hall still makes me shiver.

How his hand crept up my arm to trace his thumb against my throat.

He’s always been an arrogant prick, but he never touched me. Not like that.

I don’t mind a man who takes charge, but I prefer him not to have an affiliation with my family.

My mother’s constant reminders that I’m not living up to our family legacy and am wasting away my “childbearing years” are bad enough.

They’re the reason I keep myself on the opposite side of the country, with good weather, a lucrative fashion career, and access to all the dick I want without shame or judgment.

Juliette Douglass would pick out my wedding china tomorrow if Carter was serious about pursuing a relationship. He comes from money, is a loyal lapdog to my father, and is the only one in her eyes who could tame me out of my “wild ways.”

My defiance is a declaration of the love I have for myself and the life I create for me. I adore my body, feel empowered by the autonomy to share it, and have no desire to be a mother. It doesn’t make me less than or undesirable.

The elevator doors open to an empty car of mirrored walls. My fingers hover above the button to my floor. I can’t see Justice right now. She’s no stranger to Carter or my family drama, but, given her Terrence sighting, she needs her own space to process without distractions.

Worked up an appetite last night the menu won’t satisfy. See you at lunch.

Let Justice think I’m still in someone’s bed.

Now to deal with Carter.

“Emma.” My name is a taunt on his lips.

“What do you want, Carter?” My sigh travels between time zones and the thin fibers of my patience. This is fucking up my post-coital high.

“Did you lose your manners in the mountains?”

My eyes roll at his chuckle. I don’t need to close them to picture Carter seated in his leather office chair and bespoke suit. His ego matches his six-foot stature. It’s big enough to fill Congress and this restaurant.