Page 93 of The Best of Friends

“Mother, you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I respect that you’re genuinely concerned about me, but there is no way in hell you’re coming between Jayne and me. I’ll keep seeing her, and you will stay out of our way.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“No, we won’t. If you do anything or say anything to turn Jayne away from me, if you make trouble of any kind, I will turn my back on you forever.”

She sucked in a breath as the color faded from her face. “You’re not choosing that opportunistic little whore over me. I forbid it.”

“You don’t get a vote. Don’t push me. I’ll push back, and you’ll be the one with regrets.”

She stared at him for a long time before reaching for her purse, then sweeping out of his office. David watched her go.

This was going to end badly. He could feel it. One way or the other, someone was going to get hurt. His job was to make sure it wasn’t Jayne.

Jayne knocked on the hotel room door, telling herself not to be nervous. So what if David was waiting for her? They were going to have dinner, then sex. No big deal. Except there was something vaguely illicit about going to a man’s hotel room.

The door opened.

“What?” David asked. “You look funny.”

“A compliment to make me all fluttery inside.”

He smiled, then pulled her close and kissed her. “You look like you’re worried about something.”

She kissed him back, enjoying the immediate heat that flared between them and the liquid desire that took up residence in the most interesting places.

“I was thinking I don’t go to many men’s hotel rooms.”

“No moonlighting as a call girl?”

“I tried it for a while, but I hated the hours.”

He led her into the room, which turned out to be a suite. The living room held a sofa, a TV in a cabinet, a desk, and a couple of chairs. The bedroom beyond was big, with a king-size mattress. Both rooms faced west and had French doors that opened onto balconies. This being spring in Los Angeles, the late afternoon was plenty warm enough for the doors to be open. The sounds of traffic drifted up to them.

“Very nice,” she said, glancing around. “Understated elegance. Are we ordering in or eating in the dining room?”

He moved close and took her in his arms. “Whichever you’d like. I have champagne.”

Of course he did. “Because no good seduction should be without champagne.”

He walked into the bedroom. She followed and saw the freestanding ice bucket tucked beside the bed.

“Very subtle,” she teased.

He opened the bottle while she collected glasses from inside the armoire. After he poured, they toasted each other. She took a sip.

Even though you could buy it at Costco, there was something decadent about drinking Dom Pérignon while it was still light out.

“Nice,” she said, staring into his blue eyes and meaning more than the champagne. “Very nice. You’re spoiling me. I could get used to that.”

“Good.”

No. Not good. It was bad. Very bad. Getting used to his spoiling her meant getting used to him. And then she was on a slick highway to Broken Heart Town. Not a place she needed to be right now. Her life was supposed to be about new beginnings, not getting caught up in a relationship that had been a risk from the beginning.

She wanted to say it wasn’t her fault. That her fantasies about David had predisposed her to falling for him, but the actual fall itself was because of who he’d turned out to be. Nice. Funny. Charming. Caring. How was she supposed to protect herself against that?

“Let’s go enjoy our champagne,” he said, putting his hand on the small of her back and guiding her to the other room.

“You don’t want to have sex with me?” she asked before she could stop herself.