My eyes play tricks on me.
My body betrays me.
It’s her.
The woman I can’t get out of my head.
“Nice to meet you.” Expression blank, I reluctantly release her hand and step back.
Inwardly, I revel in the effect I have on her. Lush lips part slightly, cheeks flush, and she’s speechless. Her breathing comes in shallow pants, making it hard to keep my eyes off her rising and falling chest.
She’s wearing killer heels, a light gray pencil skirt that fits her like a glove, sexy and classy, and a pastel pink blouse. Her blonde hair falls loosely to below her jawline, framing her heart-shaped face.
She’s delectable. Good enough to eat.
Still at a loss for words, she fixes her magnificent gem-like eyes on me. The PA clears her throat loudly and not so subtly nudges Pru. In turn, the blonde blinks several times and her trance-like demeanor fades.
“Um, ah, sorry. You’re Eli Lansing?” She tilts her head to the side as if examining me from another angle might change my answer.
“Yes. The one and only.”
“You were the lead guitarist for Trojan, weren’t you?” Her gaze is now more alert.
Her PA relaxes, shoulders loosening as she exhales and heads for the door. “Pru, I’m going to leave unless either of you need anything.” The brunette looks from her to me and we shake our heads. “Okay. You have about an hour and a half. I’ll be back.”
She’s out the door, and now it’s just the two of us.
We stare at each other. Silence fills the space.
What are the freaking chances? My wild one-night stand from a week ago is in front of me. And even more, we’re going to be working together for the coming weeks.
One-night stands aren’t supposed to go like this. It’s a one-time deal hence the name. I’ve never run into another one of my one-night stands before.
Wait. That’s not true. Melanie. Crystal’s mother.
She came back into my life unexpectedly and changed everything. But what are the odds of it happening to the same guy twice in a lifetime?
Unbelievable. No one would believe it, and I sure don’t even though she’s here, in front of me.
Is this woman, Pru, another Melanie? Is this incredible second encounter a cruel trick of fate? Will she ransack my life and leave me to pick up the pieces?
“Are you that Eli Lansing?”
“Yup, that’s me. Why? Are you a fan of Trojan?”
She nods, biting her bottom lip, still studying me. Will she be first to mention The Salon?
I shake my head and rub at the back of my neck. We’re both floundering here, and I have to move this along.
“Ah, I’m sure you’ve figured out we’ve already met.” I rake a hand through my hair.
Heat flares in her eyes and she nods, breathing a little faster. At the same time we say, “The Salon.”
A lopsided grin claims my mouth, and she licks her lips—those sexy, soft lips.
Cherry sweetness.
She tastes like cherries.
“Yes. That was then. This is now, and now we’re working together,” she cautions, and I can’t tell if she’s warning me, herself, or both of us.
She’s right even if I don’t like it. I’m looking for a long-term relationship, not a random hookup. Even if the sex was out of this world, hot as hell, and I can’t get the woman off my mind.
“Agreed. Let’s keep this professional.” I saunter over to the couch and sit.
She moves to the seat farthest from me and somehow makes it look like she isn’t trying to keep her distance. That’s exactly what she’s doing, and it’s a good idea.
“Yes. That was a one-time deal.” She nods for emphasis.
“For sure…I wish I could say I’ve never done anything like that before but I can’t.” Why am I rambling?
A hand flies into the air in the universal stop sign. “Ah, too much information. Stop. And before you think you’ll get points for honesty, nope. We’re not doing this.”
“Yeah, sorry, I shouldn’t have gone there. What exactly do you think I’m doing?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t want to rehash that night. We were both there.” Her words, like magic, instantly conjure colorful mental images of us, arms and legs, lips and tongues, from that night.
And by the way her cheeks now flush, she’s doing the same.
Blowing out a harsh breath, she straightens. “I’ve never been in a situation like this before. I don’t do one-night stands.” Now squirming in her seat, she closes those magnificent eyes to me. “Why do women do that?”
“Do what?” I realize the question isn’t for me when she looks heavenward, exasperated at…me? Herself?
“Feel the need to justify casual sex.” She gets up, now pacing back and forth.
I’m mesmerized by the flex of her calf muscles, her long legs, and how the fabric of her skirt accentuates her perfect ass. I should look away but can’t.
“There’s nothing wrong with sex so long as we’re consenting adults and responsible.” She plants her hands on her hips, still lost to her own thoughts. “Women like sex just as much as men do. I mean, guys do it all the time and they don’t rationalize it or even care what people think.”
Twirling on one skyscraper heel, she stabs me with her now darkened eyes. I nod, vigorously, agreeing with every word out of her pretty mouth even if I wish she’d stop saying sex.
Every time she utters the word, like lightning blazing across the sky, images of us in the private restroom of The Salon streak through my mind.
Vivid and bright.
Oh, what a night.
The sex was unreal, and now, I shamelessly devour her every move, unable to look away. She’s my most outrageous fantasy. I long for a repeat.
No. No. No.
“But here I go, like so many women, feeling the need to explain why I wanted to fuck a hot-as-hell man without so much as getting his name.” She clamps her lips shut, hands flying to cover her mouth.
Holy hell, my pants tighten at her admission of wanting me as much as I wanted her. “You think I’m hot as hell?”
There she goes again, arching one perfectly blonde brow, eyes twinkling.
“I get it.” My words are a strangled choke, still willing my body to cool the fuck down.
One arm casually glides along the back of the couch, and I slide a hand into my pocket, readjusting and trying to lessen the confinement in the crotch of my pants. Next to impossible thanks to the growing bulge.
“Oh my God.” She slumps into the chair, hands dropping to her sides, and hangs her head. “I can’t believe I just said that.”
Blonde hair falls in front of her face, and she lets out a snort, shoulders shaking. She’s laughing, I think. I hope she’s laughing and not crying.
She’s clearly uncomfortable with this situation, and I’m not sure how to fix it. I’m working on a movie, contractually obligated to do this film, and I want to do the film. I can’t offer to walk away to make her feel better.
But she hasn’t asked anything of me either. Maybe we can work this out, move past the sex, and do the jobs we’re meant to do.
“I can’t believe I rambled like a complete idiot.” Raising her head, she wipes at the corner of one eye and flashes me a grin.