Any Way You Want It (9 page)

She remained on the bench, all her certainty gone.

She couldn’t do this. She didn’t have the tools to deal with a fling. She’d dated Peter for nearly six months before they even got into heavy petting.

Her gaze moved from Ren’s extended hand to his face. His hair was brushed back from his face in long waves, his cheeks and chin were starting to reveal hints of five o’clock shadow. The black shirt he wore strained against the muscles of his chest and shoulders. He was truly beautiful, and so far out of her realm of knowledge.

She was willing to bet big money that he’d never even used the phrase “heavy petting,” much less waited six months to get to it. One-night stands were a way of life for him. She knew that as surely as she knew that they weren’t for her, as much as she’d wanted to believe otherwise.

Especially when she looked at him.

“Maggie?”

She pulled in a deep breath, trying desperately to calm the conflicting emotions churning inside her. Begging her to go back into his arms, and in the next breath telling her to run as far away as she could.

She couldn’t go with him. She was too…scared.

“Ren, I can’t.” She pulled in another breath as her body ached at her words. “I just don’t think I’m a one-night stand kind of girl.”

Ren didn’t speak, and for some reason, his silence hurt. Even though she hadn’t honestly expected him to offer her anything else. And what could he offer, really? She was here on vacation. He was a musician, who would have a new woman lusting after him tomorrow night, and the night after that.

That idea solidified her decision. She couldn’t handle that. Other women. That would kill her.

He stepped toward her, his heat reaching out to encompass her. He took her hands, tugging her to her feet.

He leaned in and brushed his lips across hers. A brief fleeting touch that he didn’t deepen.

Instead he straightened, studying her in a way that made her feel as if he could see right into her soul. Into her heart.

“I know you aren’t,” he said, his voice resigned. She thought, hoped, that she heard disappointment.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought I could.”

He stared at her for a moment longer, then looked away, his expression hidden in shadow. “I-I wish I had something different to offer you.”

She wasn’t sure if he meant that, but the words were bittersweet consolation anyway. He didn’t have anything, and he wasn’t going to pretend. She appreciated his telling her the truth. She just wished the truth didn’t have that invariable habit of hurting like hell.

“Come on,” he said after clearing his throat, “let me walk you back to your hotel.”

Ren led Maggie down the street. He’d considered for half a second trying to persuade her to stay.

He could. Easily. Vampires had that way about them. Especially the type he was.

But instead, he widened the space between them, trying not to feel her energy. Trying not to crave it. Which was virtually impossible.

Damn, she had him shaken. When she’d made her disclosure, which he had to admit was hardly a surprise, it had been right on the tip of his tongue to tell her he was offering more than a one-night stand.

Why the hell would he even consider saying something like that? Okay, yes, he could feasibly offer her every night until the end of her trip. But that was the best he could do. It wasn’t what she wanted or needed from a man. He’d known that the first moment he saw her. He just hadn’t wanted to believe it.

Because, damn, he wanted her.

Kissing her, feeling her response, that was as close as he’d come to pure bliss in his long existence. He could only imagine what it would be like to make love to her.

See? There. That was exactly why she’d been wise to call all of this to a halt. He did not think of what he had in mind for her as making love. The act was sex. Pure and simple. No love involved.

He knew exactly how very, very dangerous love was for him. And for her.

“Well, here we are,” Maggie said, stopping on the sidewalk to look at him.

He blinked, surprised to see they’d reached her hotel already. He hadn’t even registered the noise and crowds of Bourbon.

He stared at the building—again his solid, tangible proof that love was not an option for him.

Remember Annalise. Remember what happened to her because of your love.

“Right,” he said, glancing at the bright lights and the glass entrance to the hotel. “Right.” He had no idea what else to say.

“Thank you for the drink,” she said, her voice sweetly shy. “And the kiss.”

He stared at her, loving the way her pale skin flushed. She really was too delicate and adorable for someone like him. Even for a night.

He forced a casual smile. “No, thank you.”

She nodded, obviously not knowing what else to say, and realizing she wasn’t going to get anything more from him anyway.

“Good night, then.” She started toward the doors.

“Maggie,” he called, needing to stop her, if just for a moment.

She turned to face him.

“It was really nice to meet you,” he said, staring at her for a moment longer, then turning to head back down the street. Back to his life of endless parties, women, and rock and roll.

“God, I’m such a fool,” Maggie said, staring down at her steaming cup of chicory coffee. She’d woken up with a raging headache, which she suspected the cheap wine hadn’t helped. But she knew the main cause was that she’d again gotten little sleep.

Instead she’d tossed and turned, rehashing all the events of the night. Their kisses, her insecurities, their kisses, her uncertainty, then their kisses again, and finally the look on Ren’s face as he’d said good-bye. She’d recalled that as many times as the kisses.

He’d looked…

“I wish you had been there,” Maggie said to Jo and Erika. “Then you could verify what I saw. I just don’t know. But it looked almost like…heartbreak.” She made a groaning noise and covered her face with her hands. This was crazy.

“Yeah, he was heartbroken because he didn’t get any action,” Jo said, buffering the words with a teasing tone.

Maggie knew Jo was probably right. Still, she just kept seeing his face. His haunted eyes. His eyes looking so much like they had when he’d been playing the keyboard that first night.

“Maybe he does want more, but he knows you’re leaving. And he doesn’t want to get hurt.” Erika shrugged as if even she found her words a tad implausible.

“It doesn’t matter,” Maggie said, deciding what was done was done. It was for the best, so she might as well let it go. She took a sip of her coffee. Strong, just as she liked it.

The memory of Ren’s lips against hers returned. Strong, smooth. Perfect.

She set down her cup with more force than necessary, and some of the hot liquid sloshed onto the tablecloth. She ignored the spill and forced a cheery smile. “So what’s the plan for today?”

“What do you wish you’d done differently?” Jo asked her, ignoring Maggie’s valiant attempt to get on with their vacation.

Maggie’s posture drooped as she groaned again. “Oh, I don’t know. I guess…I guess I wish I’d been daring enough to spend the night with him. Even if it was just the one night.”

Both Jo and Erika considered her words.

“You know, this is a novel twist. Most people beat themselves up for having a one-night stand. Not for not having one.” Jo took a drink of her coffee, then held the cup between her two hands as she pondered this interesting slant on a guilty conscience.

“I mean it’s not like I really think he could or should offer me something more than a fling. And I think I do want a fling. I think I need one.” Maggie shifted her eyes back and forth between her two friends, trying to read their thoughts. For once, they were both wearing poker faces. Of course.

“I didn’t want to stop after we kissed. Not until Peter popped into my head. And then I suddenly got scared.”

“Well, Peter has done a number on you. Your fear is understandable,” Jo said.

“And that’s why I’m even more annoyed for stopping. It’s like Peter is still there, judging me.

Making me unsure of myself. I don’t want him to have that kind of control over me. He’s gone, and I want my life back. I want Ren, and if it’s just a fling, all the better,” Maggie said. “Do you think I’m horrible?” she finally asked them.

“No,” they both said in unison, and with conviction.

That made Maggie feel better.

“Wasn’t it us who wanted you to wish for a wild fling at Marie Laveau’s tomb? Of course we support you wanting something fun and sexy for yourself,” Erika said.

“So what should I do?”

“Let me ask you this,” Jo said. “Are you sure you said no because of your doubts about yourself and Peter? Or is there a real risk that a fling is going to mess you up more?”

Those were the very questions that had kept her awake most of the night. She wasn’t sure.

“Maybe it’s a combination of both of those things. I mean, I’ve never been with a man that I haven’t considered myself in love with.”

“Considered being the operative word,” Jo said.

Maggie shrugged. “True. And I’m also scared that I’ll be very underwhelming to a guy like Ren.”

“No, you won’t,” Jo stated, as if she’d already seen the whole moment go down, and Maggie had performed brilliantly.

Maggie smiled, the first real smile of the morning.

“That’s your fear because of Peter,” Erika said gently.

“I agree.” Jo nodded.

Maggie agreed too. She knew everything that had happened with Peter was haunting her.

Coloring her opinions of herself, and how attractive she could be to another man.

“I really think being with Ren could be good for you,” Erika said. “You need to remember that you are an attractive, interesting, sensual woman.”

Maggie smiled at that. “Remember? When did I know that?”

“And that’s why you should go for it.” Jo took a sip of her coffee, then held the cup out in her best sophisticated pose. “After all, you are a modern woman. You can take exactly what you want.”

Erika laughed, but nodded. “Jo’s right. There is nothing wrong with being a little naughty and having fun. You are a grown woman. And you are both consenting adults. He doesn’t have to be Mr. Right—he can be Mr. Right Now.”

Maggie laughed. She liked that. And she wasn’t going to let her insecurities hold her back. She did want this. Maggie needed to get her groove back. Or maybe just get her groove—finally.

“So.” Jo set down her cup and rested her chin on her upraised, folded hands. “How does he kiss?”

“Amazing. Freaking amazing.”

All three women laughed, and Maggie felt happier than she had in the past six months.

M aggie tugged at the neckline of the wraparound kimono-style shirt that her friends had convinced her to buy at a small boutique on Royal. It plunged low between her breasts. A tad too low. She tugged at it again.

“Stop that,” Jo said, moving to adjust the shirt back to where it had been.

Maggie frowned down at the swells of chest peeking out of the neckline. “I don’t know.”

“It looks fabulous,” Erika said, poking her head out from the bathroom, where she was putting on makeup. “You’ve got great breasts. I say flaunt them.”

“Not to mention, that shirt is hardly revealing,” Jo said, moving to the mirrors on the closet doors.

She adjusted her own shirt, a vintage-style T-shirt tucked into faded jeans. Maggie was tempted to point out that, while flattering, Jo’s outfit was the one that was hardly revealing. But she didn’t.

Instead Maggie joined her at the mirror. She had to admit that the shirt—black, with flowers in shades of deep and light pink—did flatter her figure, giving her generous curves an hourglass effect. And while the neckline seemed low to her, it was hardly scandalous. She just wasn’t used to wearing anything that showed off her—assets.

She wasn’t used to caring about her assets. When she’d first started dating Peter, he’d told her that she shouldn’t bother with things like makeup and the latest fashions. At the time, she’d taken his comment to mean that she was fine the way she was. She now realized he’d meant any efforts would just be a waste of time.

Now looking in the mirror, she didn’t think this attempt was a wasted effort. She liked the look.

Erika had helped her with her makeup, and while it was still subtle, she liked how the mascara made her eyes look bigger and the lip gloss made her lips look a little pouty. And her new top was pretty sexy. She liked the look. She really hoped Ren did as well.

Tonight she didn’t plan to say no. She just hoped the offer was still on.

“Okay,” Drake said, fiddling with the tuning pegs of his guitar, “you haven’t screwed up a single lyric tonight, and your little girly isn’t here. Could there be a correlation?”

Ren glanced at his guitarist, resisting the urge to scan the crowd, even though Drake had just told him Maggie wasn’t there.

“‘Livin’ on a Prayer’ next?” he said, ignoring the question altogether.

Drake nodded, grinning broadly in the slightly crazy way he had.

Ren focused on the song rather than Drake’s words or the crowd. He refused to look for her tonight. There wasn’t much point; he knew she wouldn’t show again. And if she did, he planned to ignore her. He couldn’t risk getting involved with her. She wasn’t his type. He had to remember that.

Of course, his usually void-like sleep had again been filled with images of her, except now he also knew what she tasted like, how she felt in his arms. That had replayed in the blackness like snippets of an erotic movie.

God, he’d never considered kissing so damned sexual. It was fun, nice, a good starter to bigger and better things, but with Maggie…

Okay, he wasn’t going there. His decision was made. He knew he was doing the right thing. Had done the right thing. It was done. He’d never see her again.

That knowledge seemed to bring everything in his world into glaring, stark reality. The bar with its smoke-steeped walls, the stale scent of beer and body odor.

He glanced at the band. He worked with these guys five nights a week, yet he didn’t really know much about them. Occasionally they would go out for a drink after work, but they didn’t talk about anything real. And he realized he didn’t care.