Beautiful Distraction (26 page)

My arms wrapped around Sylvie, and she leaned her head
against my shoulder the way she always did when a relationship turned sour.
They always did, whether we wanted it or not.

“Sean’s not perfect, you know. And I don’t want commitment,”
I said.

“At least he’s honest. That’s more than you can say about
the majority of guys out there.”

Call me a romantic, but I didn’t agree with Sylvie on that
one. Surely not all men were liars or commitment-phobes. I rolled my eyes as I
thought of the guy everyone seemed to think was a catch. Sean—the
boyfriend who wasn’t ready to commit, and neither was I, for my own reasons. He
was good-looking, successful, and the guy I had been hanging onto for almost a
year even though I knew it was a dead end relationship that might be over any
minute.
If you’d call his ‘let’s hook up every now and
then’ a relationship, then that was about all we had: a sort of
friends-with-benefits thing.

Less of a friend, more
of a sex buddy.

We met when Sylvie left her handbag in a bar on a drunken
night out. Sean found it, and when he turned up at our doorstep she should have
been the one to thank him for not stealing her money and tossing her ID card in
the nearest dumpster. However,
Sylvie had been puking in the bathroom
for nearly an hour...so Sean met me instead. We hit it off instantly, and I
really thought he might be long-term material. As it turned out, even planning
a weekend break was too much commitment for him. I couldn’t remember the last time
we went on a romantic date. In fact, I couldn’t remember ever planning any sort
of event that didn’t involve a drunken night out with our friends.

Right from the beginning, Sean had made it clear we weren’t
exclusive, and I was fine with that because he made me feel comfortable. Around
him, I felt as though I could be myself. When we talked time seemed to fly, and
we’d end up talking the night away. Okay, so I wasn’t in toe-curling,
belly-warming, butterfly-feeling love, but then again does that even exist
outside of
Barbara Cartland’s
novels?

“Anyway,” Sylvie continued, jerking me out of my thoughts.
“How was your meeting with that guy?”

“Mayfield,” I said to refresh her memory.

“Mayfield,” she repeated.

“Don’t even get me started.” I waved my hand, choosing to
avoid this particular conversation. “He didn’t turn up.”

“It seems like we both need a drink.” Sylvie jumped to her
feet again and pulled me up with her. I hesitated. She might be unemployed now,
but I still had a job. While it might be fun to linger around New York’s bars,
sipping on margaritas at midnight, I didn’t have Sylvie’s platinum Visa
card—courtesy of her dad—to pay my bills. I had to get up early in
the morning and do my job.

“Come on, babes.” Knowing it would make me laugh, she put on
the fake British accent she picked up on one of her family vacations. “Let’s
forget this bloody day.” My lips twitched. “We’ll be back in a jiffy.” Which,
in Sylvie’s personal dictionary, was the equivalent to a whole-night bender.
But she was my best friend; she needed me. She would have done the same for me.
Naturally my resolve never stood a chance.

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head and followed her out the
door. The cool night air whipped my hair against my skin. Luckily our favorite
drinking spot was just around the corner, so we didn’t have to brave the cold
for long before we settled into our usual booth, surrounded by Sylvie’s
countless admirers and a few shots of tequila with lime.

***

A penetrating ringing noise woke me
up too soon. I groaned and covered my ears with my pillow, silently begging
whoever was making such ungodly noise to shut it. It took me a moment to
realize it was my alarm clock. I rolled on my side and knocked it over in the
process. A male voice let out an amused snort. I sat up, instantly awake. My
gaze settled on the guy on the left side of my bed, and I felt the telltale
heat of a major blush rushing to my face. He was propped up on one elbow, one
arm tucked beneath his head; his chiseled chest with dark hair trailing down
his flat abdomen was on full display. The sheet covering his modesty left
nothing to the imagination. In fact, it only managed to stir an unwelcome pull
between my legs. Not only was he strikingly good looking, he was also well
endowed. A heady—yet dangerous combination—in a man. My tongue
flicked over my suddenly dry lips as I pried my gaze away from the bulge that
was evident beneath the thin sheet.

What was he doing in my bed? And why was he naked?

What do you think, stupid?
It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. Just look at his smug grin.

I peered at his face. In the bright morning light falling
through the window he looked younger than last night, but just as arrogant. His
gorgeous lips curled into the most stunning smile I had ever seen. A
panty-dropping smile, as Sylvie would have called it. I paled at the
realization. Had I dropped my panties for him?

He regarded me with mild amusement in his smoldering
eyes—the color of dark moss covered by a thin layer of opal mist. The way
he looked at me, I felt as though he saw through my body and directly into my
soul. No one had ever made me feel like that before. Then again, I had never
met someone so electrically good-looking, but there’s a first time for
everything.

“Are you ready for Round Two?” His voice dripped with
insinuation. I had heard that hoarse voice before, but where? My brain fought
to make a connection through the alcohol infused haziness clouding my memory
retrieval system. And then it dawned on me.

“You were at The Black Rose. I was supposed to meet with
Mayfield, but he sent you instead.”

His grin widened, revealing two strings of pearl white, even
teeth.

Beautiful, strong
teeth that nibbled on my neck and grazed the sensitive skin on my thighs.

Whoa, where did that come from? I shook my head lightly and
tried to cling to the memory before my eyes, but it was gone already.

“Did we—” I gestured at his naked chest. My heart
stopped beating for a moment as I waited for his assurance that it was all a
misunderstanding, that I didn’t bang a stranger, because one-night stands
weren’t my thing. Besides, I was in a relationship, albeit an open one, but
cheating wasn’t my thing either. I wasn’t turning into Sylvie, was I? And I
probably wasn’t so stupid to have banged the guy.

Mystery Guy opened his mouth to say something, closed it
again, and in that instant I knew.

I was cheap, not least because I couldn’t even remember his
name.

“Oh, God.” I jumped out of bed, vaguely realizing I wasn’t
wearing anything, not even my panties—probably courtesy of his
panty-dropping smile. Mortified, I pulled the sheet from him and covered my
naked body, then scooped up what I assumed were his jeans from the pile of
clothes scattering the floor and tossed them toward Mystery Guy. He caught them
in midair but didn’t hurry to put them on. Well, he obviously was comfortable
with his private parts on full display. Good for him.

I cringed and hissed, “Get out.”

He blinked and frowned, as though he wasn’t used to this
tone from anyone. Was that a hint of disappointment in his eyes? I shook my
head at my confusing thoughts. Why would he feel that way when he didn’t even
know me? And then it was gone, and his blazing gaze turned to ice. My heart
sank in my chest.

I turned my back on him and called over my shoulder, “You
found your way in here, so I’m sure you can find your way out,” as I sprinted
out the door and headed for the safety of the kitchen, running right into
Sylvie brewing our morning coffee.

“Is somebody doing the walk of shame?” Sylvie pointed at my
burning cheeks.

I stared at her made-up face and perfect hair. Seriously,
how could she look as though she just went through a beauty treatment at a spa
after a long night of binge-drinking and barfing all over the small patch of
lawn outside our building?

Sylvie held out her coffee mug. “Here, take it. You need it
more than me.”

“Thanks.” I took a sip and burned my tongue in the process.
The sharp pang of pain offered a welcome diversion from the question at hand.
Why did I bring a guy home?

“Is he still here?” Sylvie whispered conspiratorially.

I almost spit out my next sip. “You know?”

She nodded. “You didn’t exactly make a secret out of wanting
to bed him.”

What the hell did I do? Strip off and give him a lap dance?
Sylvie made it sound like I acted all sex-starved. No wonder the guy was
disappointed not getting a morning quickie.

“You’re my best friend. You should have stopped me!” I was
so mad at her, at myself, at Hot Shirtless Arrogant Guy for accepting my
obviously drunken advances. But, even as I was seething, I knew he was the last
to blame. What guy would say ‘no’ to a willing female with loose morals?

“I was drunk,” Sylvie whispered, like that would explain
everything.

Heavy footsteps thudded across the narrow corridor and stopped
in the doorway. Holding my breath, I buried my gaze in my coffee and willed it
to swallow me up so I wouldn’t have to face the shame of my actions.

“Good morning, ladies,” Mystery Guy said.

“Want a cup?” Sylvie strolled over and poured him some
coffee, ignoring my venomous look.

What the heck?

Was he now staying for a cup of coffee? Didn’t he get the
memo?

“Cheers.” He took a gulp and sighed slightly. Damn! Why did
he sound so sexy doing normal stuff like
drinking
?
My cheeks began to burn as my gaze trailed his strong chest, my mind conjuring
images of him on top of me. Was this my brain’s attempt at reminding me of what
we did, or just a fantasy?

“How did you get such a hottie? I’m so jealous, and proud of
you,” Sylvie whispered, not the least bothered by the fact that my conquest
could most certainly hear every word. Her gaze brushed him appreciatively, her
X-ray gawk probably undressing him this very instant. While I usually didn’t
mind her leering, for some inexplicable reason it bothered me. Her lips curled
into a lascivious smile, and she began to play with a golden strand of hair. I
wouldn’t have been surprised to see her glued to his leg, drooling all over
him.

“Stop it.” I nudged her in case she could no longer hear me
in her lust-induced stupor.

She shrugged and took a step back but didn’t stop her
leering.

“Any plans for the day?” Mystery Guy asked. The kitchen
remained silent until I realized he had been addressing me. I peered up all the
way from the floor to his impossibly green gaze and instantly wished I hadn’t.
No one had eyes like that—green like sin, but never had sin seemed so
tempting. I swallowed hard and beseeched my heart to slow down before it burst
out of my chest. Was it an invitation to spend the day with him? Surely, it couldn’t
be. The guy got his one-night stand.
Isn’t that every man’s dream: sex with no
strings attached? So why would he be interested in seeing more of my panties…unless
said panties were worthy of a second try?

My blood began to boil at the way he smirked at me: self-assured.
So he enjoyed dinner and thought he might just stay for a top up. See what else
my downtown store had to offer today. Well, good news: it was closed. He wasn’t
going to get any, even if my whole body screamed to go for it and see where
that happy trail might lead me.

“I have plans. Very important ones.” I straightened my back
and held his intense gaze, ready to stare him down. He cocked his brows. His
eyes blazed with challenge and determination.

“Then cancel them,” he said in that husky tone of his.

I suppressed a snort and crossed my arms over my chest.
Seriously, who did he think he was? Maybe most women tripped over their own two
feet to spend the day with him, but I wasn’t one of them. “Not happening.”

“Playing hard to get?” He flashed a sexy dimple. “You sure
weren’t last night.”

My cheeks were on fire. I wished I could turn invisible and
disappear from the face of the earth. Then I might just be able to work through
the shame and humiliation burning through me. Maybe.

“Grab your stuff and get the hell out.” I pointed at the
door. He didn’t move, so I clutched his upper arm and pushed hard. His bulging
bicep strained under the thin material of his shirt, but he didn’t budge from
the spot.

I took a sharp breath and let it out slowly as I gathered my
words. “Look, whatever happened last night, it won’t happen again.”

“Why not?” He laughed. “I thought you wanted...
more
.”

A sharp pang of scorching mortification burned through me.
Back there in my bedroom, while we were having fun, did I tell him that I
wanted more?

Oh God.

My heart began to pound harder in my chest as he looked me
up and down, enjoying every moment of what I would call the biggest humiliation
in my life.

“Why not again?” he prompted.

I balled my hands into fists and cringed at the amused
flicker in his gaze. “Because it was a mistake. We were supposed to have a
business meeting, not hump each other,” I hissed at him, stabbing my finger in
his strong chest. His lack of any sort of reaction made my temper flare. “
You
were a drunken mistake, which I’d never repeat in my sober state, so you might
as well leave now.” For some inexplicable reason, I regretted my words the
moment they came out, but there was no backing off. He was a devilishly sexy
guy with a beautiful face and the body of a god, but I couldn’t ignore the
knowledge that as hot guys go, tempting a woman into bed is nothing but a game
to them. A game to assert their hotness level. Judging from the lazy grin on
his lips, I bet he couldn’t agree with me more. So, no matter how strongly I
felt attracted to him, the guy was a no-go for my own sake.