One Night Standards(5)

“Why?” Despite the wince of frustration as he rolled onto his side, he then sent her a wistful, lopsided smile that made her heart race. “It’s nobody’s fault. And I, for one, don’t regret a minute of it.” He laughed. “Well, okay. I regret not being more prepared.”

She rolled onto her back, wondering how long it would take before her blood cooled down and her heart stopped galloping in her chest. She was also not sure how long it would take before she’d be able to get to sleep. If she was able to sleep at all tonight.

All at once, a wave of exhaustion hit her. It had been an amazingly long day. She felt as if all the aches of the travel, all the craziness and all the stress that had been creeping up on her for far too long, just hit her like a tidal wave. To her intense embarrassment, she felt a tear creep down her cheek. She hastily wiped it away, but not before he saw it.

“Shh…Baby, what’s wrong?”

“It’s been such a crappy day,” she said, trying to blink hard as more tears followed the first. “And I really, really wanted to make love to you.”

To her surprise, he stood up…then pulled the covers back, lifted her and tucked her in, climbing in next to her and spooning with her, his arms wrapped around her comfortingly. She could still feel his erection, nestled against her bottom, and it was all she could do not to whimper and wriggle against him. He had to be hurting with need, as it were, but he spoke to her gently. “Listen, we both wanted it. But it’s probably just as well. You’ve been through a whole lot. I don’t even know you, and I know that.”

That was the thing, she thought, as she let herself cry onto the pillow, her cheek warming with the heat of the tears. He didn’t know her. But damned if he didn’t know exactly how to help her feel better at any particular moment.

“I really like you,” she said, with a slight catch in her voice. “Seriously. And not because of what we were going to do.”

He laughed, and she felt the reverberations through his rib cage. “Sugar, I really like you, too.” He nuzzled the back of her neck, and she pressed against him.

She turned around, hearing him groan again as she inadvertently brushed against him. She faced him, stroking his cheek. Then she kissed him, tenderly, deeply…. A thank you, for being such a wonderful man at a time when she needed someone to lean on. It was a new sensation—having someone rescue her.

“What was that for?” he said, resting his forehead against hers.

“Mark McMann,” she said, in a teasing, singsong voice, “you’re my hero.”

He laughed, so she kissed him again…and things quickly got more serious than she’d intended, as they pressed against each other. So close, so damned close…

She was the one who pulled away this time, gasping for air, gasping against the furious heat of her body. “Maybe the manager would bring up a box,” she said, half-joking.

He spun her around again, pulling her to him. “Go to sleep,” he said, and she could hear the words through the gritting of his teeth.

“I’m—”

“Don’t say you’re sorry. I swear to God, if I have to scour all of San Antonio, I’m going to find a condom and tomorrow night, this is all going to be just the world’s longest bout of foreplay. But for right now, I’m holding you until you fall asleep, then I’m going back to my room to dream about all the things I’ll do to you tomorrow night. Your perfume’s going to haunt me, for starters.”

She smiled, letting the warmth of him comfort her. “It’s our brand. The Essential Sensuals line.” She sighed. “I’m glad to know that this particular scent is as sexy as advertised.”

“No work talk,” he muttered, and she smiled.

“No work,” she said, yawning and burrowing slightly into the covers. She felt his arm tighten around her, and she felt the exhaustion and the emotional roller coaster finally start to slide.

“Sophie?”

“Hrmm?” she half enunciated, feeling the edges of sleep closing in on her.

“Nothing.” He kissed her shoulder. “Just go to sleep.”





2




MARK WOKE UP IN A HOTEL BED, not surprisingly. It was early, though—he’d forgotten to shut the shades. He must’ve been more tired than he’d thought.

His hand moved across the pillow, and he heard a startled sigh.

He sat bolt upright.

He wasn’t in his room. He was in her room. In her bed. With the rest of the conference probably filing into this very hotel at any moment.

“Uh-oh,” he muttered.

She sat up slowly, took one look at him, and then he could tell from the horrified expression on her face and the way her mouth was opening that she was about to scream. He quickly did the only thing he could think of…covered her mouth with his hand. Her shriek turned into a muffled squeak.

“Hi, I’m Mark McMann. Any second now, you’re going to remember me from last night. We drove in together last night, laughing, were both tired, we didn’t have a condom….” He smiled without humor as a look of recognition crossed over her face. The look of horror, he noted, redoubled. “Ah, here we go. You remember.”

He removed his hand slowly, and she gasped. “You’re still here. It’s morning, and you’re still here.”

“In my defense, I was exhausted…Hey!”

She jumped out of bed and bolted past him, dashing to the center of the room, looking as if she were trying desperately to get her bearings. He noticed that she was only wearing panties, and she didn’t seem to care in the slightest. “What time is it?”

“Uh…” His brain had shorted out temporarily, seeing that lithe body of hers wearing only a pair of silky-looking bikini-cuts. “Um…”

She looked around at her clothes, then pushed her blouse out of the way of the clock. “Eight o’clock! Crap! Crap!” She glanced back at him. “Focus, Tennessee. Grab your clothes and get back to your room! ASAP!”

He blinked. Of course, that had been his plan, before he’d frozen in the headlights, as it were. He’d seen naked women, although they were usually models. And they weren’t usually shaped like Sophie. For a short girl, she certainly had…

“Mark!” She snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Not that it isn’t flattering, but you’ve got to wake up, sweetie. Do you really want people to know we spent the night together?”

Those were the magic words. He jumped out of bed, thankful that he was still wearing boxers. He assiduously avoided looking at her and instead did as she said, focusing on grabbing his clothes and pulling them on, tripping back onto the bed as he tugged his pants on both legs at one time.

“Can’t you hurry?” he heard her call from the bathroom. The shower was running…. Man, he needed to jump into the shower. He needed to unpack, for God’s sake. He needed to get moving…. His boss Simone was probably in the hotel by now, and would probably want to call the staff meeting at 10:00 a.m. or something…. Jeez, he needed to look at his PDA, see if he’d gotten any e-mails; she was all about sending those sneaky e-mails to make sure people were plugged in all day.

He buttoned his shirt hastily, noticing that he seemed to be missing a button…and abruptly remembered how he’d lost it. He went slightly hard and quickly headed off any more thoughts in that direction.

It was just a temporary lapse of reason. People were considered innocent for stuff like murder with just that kind of rationale. Besides, it wasn’t as if it were ever going to happen again.

“I’m out of here, I’m really sorry…” he said to the open bathroom door, figuring she was in the shower. “I’ll…er…”

He’d what? Call her later? They hadn’t even had sex, for pity’s sake. And now they weren’t ever going to see each other again. That thought caused a little sting, but he’d get over it. So what else could he say?

“Have a good conference,” he finished lamely and headed for the door. He looked out the peephole and then opened the door, peering out. Nobody in the hallway. He dug around in his pocket, found his room key and then made a break for it. He got in the room quickly and noticed immediately that the hotel-room phone light was blinking. He had a message. He decided to jump in the shower and get dressed first, before dealing with it. Odds were good it was somebody he didn’t want to talk to, anyway…or somebody it would stress him out to know he’d missed. He could just say that he’d slept in or something.

He thought back a minute, thinking of Sophie, naked on the other side of the wall.

Or something.

Finally, in a world’s record of getting cleaned up, he collected the message.

“Mark? This is Simone. I think something might be wrong with your phone. I’ve decided to call an impromptu staff meeting at nine this morning, and I want you there a few minutes early…. I think we need to talk.” A pregnant pause. “Yes. We definitely need to talk.”

Mark winced, then grabbed his briefcase. He wasn’t going to bring his laptop—Simone didn’t approve of them in meetings. He was almost out the door when he suddenly found that his phone was missing. He searched for it frantically, cursing a blue streak when it didn’t show up. He didn’t even have stuff out of his bags, for pity’s sake, where could he have…