One Night With Her Read online

  As she waited for the elevator she couldn’t help but notice a smoking-hot man in the hotel bar, chatting animatedly with others at his table. She catalogued his features quickly—broad chest, dark hair with the slightest wave, crystal-blue eyes like the ocean, and a smile that was quite simply . . . beguiling.

  Perhaps she lingered too long, or perhaps she lingered just the right amount of time, because he glanced across the open lobby bar, past the other tables, and his gaze seemed to land on her.

  At least, she wanted to believe it had as she stepped inside the elevator and the doors closed. She’d try to remember his face for later. It could never hurt to put a face to a fantasy when one was alone in bed with her toys.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Favorite Parts

  They hadn’t asked to see The Mona, but there’d been no need to see it.

  Henry’s partner in business and love, Marquita, had proudly boasted about the windows that had nearly shattered in her apartment building when she’d used The Mona last week. Jack simply smiled and said, “I’m pleased that you were pleased.”

  “So pleased,” she’d reiterated, then planted a kiss on Henry’s cheek, one that suggested there’d be much more than kissing going on between them later tonight. That was one of the perks, so to speak, about working in this line of business. Not watching business associates lock lips, but rather, that the people he dealt with didn’t have too many sexual hang-ups. Of course, he ran into plenty of over-sharers too. Some folks assumed if you peddled sex toys, it meant you wanted to hear about every single thing someone did with one, and Jack most decidedly did not want to be told about every escapade. But hey, it came with the territory. Besides, he was used to it with these two—they’d been business partners and friends since Jack and Casey had started Joy Delivered. They were like family.

  “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Marquita,” Jack said, because she’d battled a serious illness most of last year.

  “And The Mona helps,” Marquita said with a bright smile.

  “And now there’s something else we need to talk about,” Henry began, steepling his fingers together, his tone shifting to serious as he motioned for someone to join them at the bar—a suited man with black hair, and a blue-and-red striped tie. Only politicians wore such ties. Jack tensed; politics was not his favorite playground.

  “Jack, I want to introduce you to Marquita’s brother, Paul Denkler. He’s running for city councilman in our neck of the woods and he’s been focused on safe streets, schools and a balanced budget. But somehow that message has been subverted by his opponent, who’s decided to fight below the belt and attack our business. If Paul doesn’t win, it could be very bad for business,” Henry said, and Jack’s ears pricked at the words bad for business. He didn’t like those words. Not one bit. He preferred good for business, so if this fellow played on the good side, then he’d hear him out.

  “Lay it on me,” Jack said, and a meeting about selling The Mona quickly became something else entirely.

  * * *

  The deal had been signed. The new product would have both prominent in-store and online placement, and Jack had promised an extra shipment for Marquita and Henry’s personal stash. The undecided part? How he felt about Denkler. How he felt about getting involved in politics. He didn’t have a thorny past with a politician; he didn’t have a senator dad he detested. He simply followed the news, and knew that politics was a slimy, dirty battlefield. Jack had served his country for six years and that was about the extent of his interest in matters of state. This thing with Denkler, though—it wasn’t a matter of state, so much as a matter of business, and a matter of personal business. Jack cared deeply about Henry; the man was a business partner, and had been through hell and back during the past year as his wife battled and beat breast cancer.

  What pissed him off was the opponent’s tactics, and how the other guy was going after Paul Denkler through his brother-in-law’s business, which had nothing to do with the race. That was underhanded, and that didn’t sit well with Jack.

  But whatever he decided to do, he’d do it with Casey on board. The two were a team, and always had been, so he’d have to table Henry’s request until he spoke with his sister and laid it all out for her. For now, he shoved thoughts of politics and campaigns and consequences aside. Henry and Marquita were off to a dinner meeting, and Jack was alone, so he settled in at the bar and ordered a vodka tonic, scrolling through his phone as he waited for his drink.

  He’d been planning on having a drink with his good buddy Nate tonight, but Nate had to work late on a last-minute deal. They’d agreed to still meet tomorrow morning for a round of hoops before work. That meant Jack’s agenda for the rest of the evening was simple—a quick drink, then he’d watch some of the Yankees game from the comfort of his living room. Those twin activities would help him crash later, because he sure could use a decent night’s sleep before the appointment that Casey had arranged tomorrow at two. Just the thought of dealing then with the shit that was in his head gave him an ulcer, but he knew Casey would kick his ass if he didn’t give it a shot.

  She wanted him to start dating again. She’d told him the upcoming charity event they were sponsoring next month for breast cancer research would be the perfect time to get back on the market, or at the very least, to slough off all his regret from the past. As if that were possible. But Casey had her mind set. She seemed ready and eager to get him back on the scene, judging from the story link she’d just emailed him. The note was titled, New York’s Most Eligible Bachelors.

  Look! You’re on the list! Sex-toy mogul Jack Sullivan tops this year’s list of the city’s most eligible bachelors in business. Don’t you think he needs a new woman to mend his broken heart? Makes you just want to nab that man even more.

  He rolled his eyes, and replied, The depth of their insight never fails to astound me.

  He turned the damn thing to silent. He could do without the reminders tonight. Reminders of anything. Of the woman he’d lost, of the fascination the gossip rags seemed to have with his dating or non-dating status—as the case had been for the last year—and of the claws some women wanted to sink into him, thanks to the growth trajectory Joy Delivered had been on. While at dinner with Casey last week, he’d been propositioned by a young woman who’d said she was on the hunt for an eligible bachelor businessman.

  Call him old-fashioned, but the next time he got involved, he’d like it to be with someone who actually gave a shit about him, rather than what he did for a living, the company he ran, or his prior love life.

  Or with the absolutely stunning brunette who was walking past him and—hello, lucky stars—was now sitting at the other end of the bar. The same one who’d caught his eye when she’d stepped into the elevator earlier in the evening. Her hair was in a twist that showed off her neck. She had a fantastic pair of legs, strong and muscular, a nice trim waist, and she was rocking some kind of buttoned-up-on-the outside vibe with her blouse and pencil skirt that made him wonder if she was buttoned up on the inside too.

  * * *

  Michelle hadn’t been expecting the barrage of questions, but what an eager bunch of counselors she’d encountered after her talk. She’d never felt so popular ‘til tonight, when she was nearly mobbed by fellow psychotherapists as she attempted to walk away from the lectern. They fired off questions for her on treatment and guidance for love and sex addicts, and she happily answered all of them to the best of her ability. Then she gathered up her notes, and made her way down to the lobby. She adjusted her purse strap, and sighed deeply, pleased with her work for the evening. Sharing insights and learning was a true passion of hers, and she’d had the opportunity to do so tonight with colleagues.

  Tonight. The word reverberated through her, and she felt the slightest pang when she stepped off the elevator and remembered it was a Thursday. She and Clay had often had drinks on a Thursday night. While they still did from time to time, along with her brother, Davis, the get-togethers had been curtail
ed since Julia moved in with him. Understandable; the man was committed, and now he was married. Julia hadn’t cut them off; in fact, the redhead was lovely, and Michelle had visited Julia’s bar a few times. But it was simply too hard for Michelle to see them together that often, so she’d kept them in her life, but put herself on a restricted Clay-and-Julia diet.

  Keeping a distance was a necessity, but she missed those Thursday nights. And she missed the drinks, truth be told. She could certainly go for a little nightcap to finish off the day. She’d always been comfortable in her own skin and with her own company, so a quick solo stop at the bar was no big deal.

  She followed the music and sat down at the tall, sleek metal bar, ordering a vodka tonic that arrived quickly, and taking out her iPad. There was a new Tumblr feed she wanted to peruse, but that would only happen from the privacy of home and bed since it was a terribly naughty one. She had an article she wanted to finish, and then a novel to dive into about a con artist, and she’d even downloaded a new app for practicing Spanish phrases, partly because the male voice on the app was so deliciously sexy. Perhaps better to listen to that in her apartment, she reasoned, as she lifted the cool glass to her lips and took the first sip. Raising her eyes, she noticed that same man she’d seen earlier. He was seated at the end of the bar, drinking what looked to be a vodka tonic too. The glass hit his lips at the exact same moment, his moves mirroring hers. His blue eyes seemed to sparkle, a hint of wicked delight in them.

  Same drink, same time, same absolutely smoking-hot guy she’d spotted an hour before. One barstool away. When she set the glass down, she said, “Jinx.”

  “Jinx,” he repeated.

  “Does that mean you owe me a drink?” she asked, and then nearly clasped her hand over her mouth. But instead, she went with it. “Sorry, that’s pretty much close to the cheesiest pick-up line ever.”

  His lips curved slightly into a grin. “Does that mean you’re trying to pick me up?”

  She laughed, and shook her head. The silvery metal surface of the bar revealed a rush of red racing to her cheeks as she answered. “No.”

  She wasn’t, right? Those words had just tumbled out accidentally, not because she’d seen him earlier and memorized his face, and not because one quick glance at Mr. Cool, Calm and Collected had her adding him to an arsenal of possible late-night ammunition to feed her active fantasy life.

  Very, very active, and she fed it regularly. With Tumblr, with toys, and with wild images of pleasure.

  “That’s too bad then,” he said, and his voice was deep, with the slightest rasp to it, like velvet that had a rough edge. That edge in it sent goose bumps down her spine. Or maybe it was his words, the hint of possibility to them.

  “Is it? Too bad?” she asked, tilting her head to the side, shifting her body language, one hundred percent aware that she was getting her flirt on.

  “Not just too bad. It would be a travesty.”

  She brought her hand to her heart, playing along. “How sad. I’d hate to be responsible for a disaster of that degree.”

  “You could avert it, then,” he said dryly, arching an eyebrow, then taking another swallow of his drink. The sight of his lips on the glass had her mind galloping off to a naughty land, because those lips looked delicious. Soft and kissable, while the rest of him looked hard and strong. She liked the way his tie was loosened, and his jacket draped over his chair. A businessman in repose.

  “I could, couldn’t I? If I were interested in avoiding such a sad turn of events.”

  “Are you, though? Interested?” he asked.

  Michelle was almost certain a butterfly had taken off in her belly because her stomach flipped, and it was primed to flop again. “I’m getting there,” she said playfully, enjoying the back and forth, the very fine layer of innuendo that lined this conversation like a cool evening mist after a hot day. She brought her glass to her lips and took another drink, hoping it would have the same effect on him that his sip had had on her.

  “Excellent,” he said, giving her a quick, appreciative nod. “So . . . are you having a good evening?”

  “I am, as a matter of fact. Productive day, energetic evening, perhaps a satisfying night overall,” she said, and he chuckled softly when she said satisfying.

  “What would make your night satisfying?” he asked, his cool blue gaze pinned on her. Then he raked his eyes over her, and she couldn’t deny that she enjoyed the possibility that he liked what he saw.

  “I enjoy a satisfying conversation.” She threw down the gauntlet. He seemed a good sparring partner.

  “Let’s satisfy you conversationally then,” he said, picking up the challenge easily. “Now, I could ask you what you do for a living, but everyone does that. I could ask what brings you to this hotel, but that’s also trite. Instead, why don’t we talk about something that people don’t usually discuss. For instance, what is your favorite body part?”

  She burst into laugher at his out-of-left-field question and the completely deadpan manner he asked it in, but then quickly grabbed the baton of the conversation. “On me, I would have to say it’s my elbows. I have absolutely amazing elbows,” she said, crooking her arm and showing him her elbow.

  “Wow. You’re right. Those are glorious elbows. Smooth and soft, and yet pointy, too. And they make the arm move.”

  “Amazing, isn’t it?” she said, demonstrating playfully. “And my second choice would be my right butt cheek.”

  “Not the left one?”

  “Well, they both are pretty nice.”

  He raised his eyebrows appreciatively. “I bet they’re spectacular,” he said, that sexy gravel of his voice sending a charge through her.

  “And you?” she asked, as her skin heated up. “Your favorite body part?”

  “I’ve always been told I have great ears. It’s weird, but women sometimes stop me on the street to comment on my ears,” he said, shaking his head in faux wonderment as she laughed again.

  “They are really nicely shaped,” she said, pointing to his ears, then looking him in the eyes, before offering a true compliment, as he’d seemed to do for her. “But you have beautiful eyes.”

  He flashed her a quick smile. “Thank you. So do you. And legs. And arms. And lips. And eyes. Okay, here’s another question,” he said, after he moved through the sweet litany of compliments, as if he wanted to give them but was careful to not be more forward until he knew if she wanted it.

  “Wait,” she said. “You didn’t research interesting questions to ask women at bars, did you?”

  “What if I did?”

  “Did you?”

  “No.” He held up his hands as if to say he was innocent.

  “The favorite-body-part question just came naturally to you?”

  “A lot of things come naturally to me,” he said, with a confidence in his voice that bordered on cocky. She kind of liked it. More than she thought she would. He leaned back in the bar stool, his whole demeanor assured and relaxed, as if nothing could throw him off his game. She was willing to bet he was in a profession that valued this sort of mindset. She was also pretty sure this was an ideal mindset for random bar chatter.

  “All right, then. Let’s see how you do on the other side.”

  “Turn the tables on me.”

  “I will. Since we’re not talking about professions, how about this one? If you had an extra thirty minutes free in the day for fun, what would you do with it?”

  “Shoot hoops,” he answered immediately. “You?”

  “I’d spend more time on Tumblr,” she said, and left it up to him to figure out what she did there. When he gave her an approving nod as he downed more of his vodka, she knew he understood what Tumblr was good for.

  “Perhaps we should go back to that pick-up line, then?”

  “The one where I buy you a drink?” she asked, as a mischievous look flitted past his blue eyes. Damn, they were gorgeous eyes. A pure and light blue, like the crystal waters off Fiji.

  “Or I could buy
you a drink,” he offered, and this time the cool charm was gone, and his tone was direct. A direct line to her desire to spend more time with him, here at the bar.

  There was a rustle of noise as the man grabbed his phone and his glass and stood up. Was he leaving? No, he moved a seat closer, and that brief few seconds of him standing gave Michelle the chance to look up, and admire his height. He had to be easily over six-feet tall. That height was a basic requirement for dating, she and her friend Sutton had joked. A man needed to be a “standard six” and then some, preferably.

  He gestured to the stool next to her. “Is this seat taken?”

  “When you sit down in it, it will be.”

  “Then I will gladly make sure it’s taken, and that no one else can get it.” He smiled at her, and extended a hand. “I’m Jack. Just Jack.”

  She shook his hand as he sat next to her. “Michelle with two Ls. I used to have one L in my name, but it always looked like it was spelled wrong, so I just decided to add the second L. Because I can.”

  “Hell yeah, you can. And it’s a pleasure to meet you, Michelle who now has two Ls. I hope this isn’t too forward of me, but you don’t seem like a woman who’s going to get offended easily. I noticed how hot you are when you walked into the hotel an hour ago.”

  Hot. He’d called her hot. Not pretty. Not beautiful. But hot. She’d take hot. She’d happily take being called hot, because hot was what she felt when he said it. Hot all over. Bothered in all the right places.

  “How hot?” she asked, eager for more of his compliments.

  He leaned in closer, and lowered his voice to a sexy whisper. “Fucking hot.”

  She shut her eyes for the briefest of moments, letting the words flare through her body, igniting something inside of her that usually was only lit up from her fantasy life. But now she was feeling something in real life, from a real person, who seemed to have real interest.