One Night Standards

“Nothing,” she said, rolling her own head back, trying to stretch the kinks out of her neck. “Just punchy.”

“You are the best, you know that?” he said as they parked the car. “Honestly. I haven’t had this much fun on a road trip since the Parker twins needed a ride to Georgia.”

“Well, I’d love to drink to the Parker twins, and you’ll have to tell me that story sometime,” she said, unfolding herself from the car with a groan. “But looks like our sojourn is over, pal.”

They collected the bags, and she felt a stab of regret. Now that they were at the hotel, he’d undoubtedly go up to his room, she to hers, and never the twain would meet, as it were.

Still, he was funny, he was nice, and she hadn’t spent this much time with a man after the sun had set since she’d started working at Diva Nation. She needed to get out more. She took a quick glance at his physique as he easily lifted the bulky luggage.

Getting out’s not the only thing I need.

She shook her head, clearing it of the thought. Getting any further involved with Mark would be trouble—no matter how much she liked him personally.

Man, it had been a long day, a long drive. A long night.

They checked in with the night clerk, and got their keys. As luck would have it, they had rooms right next to each other. They rode the elevator in companionable silence. Finally, they were each at their respective hotel-room doors.

“Well, I guess this is it.” She held out her hand. “Thank you. For the ride, for being a great conversationalist. For everything.”

His hand was warm and firm in hers. “I feel like we’ve been to war together.”

She laughed, then bit her lip. “Would a hug be totally inappropriate? Because I swear, after that car ride, I feel like I’m leaving my best friend here.”

He laughed, put down the laptops and his duffel bag, and held out his arms. Putting down her purse, she moved into his arms, hugging him tightly. He smelled good and felt like a billion dollars, giving the perfect hug…just enough arm, not too crushing, not at all reluctant.

She was really, really going to miss him. It was ridiculous, after only six hours, but she was going to miss him like crazy.

She was turning to tell him that, she would tell herself later. She wasn’t turning to do anything else when she was still in his arms. She just looked up into those sky-blue-gray eyes of his, smiling when he stroked the side of her face. Smiling back at him.

She was still smiling when he leaned down. The two of them were smiling when their lips met. And for a second, it was absolutely perfect—the end of a perfectly awful day with the most wonderful ending imaginable.

Then something changed. Oh, it was perfect—but there was nothing friendly about it.

She felt him crush the hair at the nape of her neck, very gently, with his broad hand, holding her more tightly to him as she let out a soft moan and pressed herself against him. She opened her mouth and felt his tongue brush against her lips, tickling hers. She tilted her head for better access, and sighed right into him. He felt sinfully delicious and tasted like heaven. She clutched at his shoulders, feeling him press her against the door. She didn’t care. She wanted as much of him as she could get.

She had no idea how long they stood like that out in the hallway, but it was probably far too long…and it wasn’t even long enough. But she heard one of the bags falling over and, startled, she pulled back.

“Wow,” Mark said, his breathing uneven. “Just…wow.” He stared at her. “You okay?”

She took a deep breath. “I think you shorted out my left temporal lobe.”

He laughed, stroking her arms. She took a step back, studying him.

“Do you have any idea how outrageously good you are at that?”

He grinned, tongue in cheek, and leaned against the door frame. “Good manners would say I should be modest right about now,” he said, then he grinned devilishly. “But hell, I’m too tired. Yeah, I knew.”

“Good grief. You should wear a warning label. Be registered as lethal in most states.”

He winked at her. “Just most states?”

“Well…I’m betting you’d probably be okay in Hawaii,” she said. “Thanks again.”

“You make me laugh,” he said, his smile causing her to feel warm all the way down to her toes. “I dig that.”

“Who says dig anymore? What are you, Austin Powers?” She had to escape. If she stayed out here…

“Why?” He winked. “Do I make you randy, baby?”

“You nutcase,” she replied. “I dig ya right back.”

He sighed. “It was the kissing thing, huh?”

She thought about it. “Actually, it was the car ride. I’ve never met anybody who could talk about as many non–work related things as you,” she said. “It takes a man of true distinction to find Andromeda, debate the finer points of A Face in the Crowd and sing all the words to ‘Dead Man’s Party’ in a decent voice.”

His eyes lit up, like a kid at Christmas, and his grin was so happy she wanted to drag him into her room and not let him go, possibly ever.

“You keep smiling like that, Tennessee, and I’m going to do things I regret. So let’s call it a night.” With that—and because she was an utter, stupid glutton for punishment—she gave him one last, quick kiss, then opened the door, dumped her stuff inside and shut the door behind her. Then, she kicked off her shoes and threw herself onto her bed. She heard him hauling his bags into his room next door, and closed her eyes.

Okay, you’re an idiot, she berated herself. Kissing that man was like juggling chain saws. Might seem like a cool idea in theory, but if you didn’t know what you were doing, you were bound to get hurt.

Still…he was pretty amazing. And of course, gorgeous. And really funny.

And damn, that man could kiss.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and she groaned. “Will this day never end?”

She peeked through the peephole…and saw a figure that still managed to look good despite the distortion of the fish-eye lens.

Don’t do it. You’re tired. You’re slap happy. You haven’t had sex in two years, she admonished herself. He works for the enemy. Do. Not. Open. That. Door.

She saw her hand grab the doorknob, twist it and swing the door open.

“Forget something?” she inquired.

His answering smile made her toes curl.

“You know,” he said, “sometimes, regret is healthy for you. Besides, it’s been a long time since I’ve done something somebody’s regretted.”

Without another word, she grabbed him by the shirt and shut the door behind him. His lips were on her before the dead bolt even shot the lock.

“We must be crazy,” Sophie muttered breathlessly against Mark’s neck, even as her fingers flew to the buttons on his shirt, undoing them slowly. She wasn’t going slowly out of any inherent sexiness…. Passion and exhaustion had made her fingers clumsy.

She knew her brain was too tired to be thinking rationally. Otherwise, she’d acknowledge just how universally stupid this course of action was. She’d driven six hours to get here, after a full day of traveling, and now she had a complete stranger in her hotel room after midnight when she had one of the biggest meetings of her career at, what, nine o’clock the next morning….

She suddenly pulled back to stare at him. Good God, what was she thinking? Was she a complete and utter moron?

“Mark…”

He smiled, his eyes aglow. Then he leaned down and devoured her mouth. Her fingers twined into the hair at the nape of his neck. She felt his fingertips dig into her hips, pulling her forward, molding her against what felt like a sizable hardness. She opened her mouth, tasting him, cuddling him at the juncture of her thighs as she pressed her breasts against his chest.

Oh, yeah. A complete and utter moron, indeed, was her last coherent thought.

But a happy moron.

He tugged at her until the two of them tumbled onto the queen-size hotel-room bed. For a second, they lay there, kissing softly. It wasn’t clawing, or rushed, or even a mad grappling. It was more like coming home. Yes, that was a cliché, but since she’d never really felt it before, even when she was coming home to someone…

She wasn’t going to think about that now.

He moved from her mouth to her jawline, insistent kisses against her neck. She gasped a little, and her hands went back to his shirt, finally succeeding in getting the last of the buttons undone. She pushed the shirt away from his chest, letting her palms slide over the taut muscles of his torso. He felt hot, and smooth, and perfect. He was kissing her collarbone, and for a second, she forgot how to breathe.

He reached for the hem of her short-sleeved blouse, and pulled away enough for her to wiggle out of it as he pulled it up over her head. He shrugged out of his shirt, and the lace of her bra was the only thing between the heat of their skin. She sighed against him, rolling him onto his back and straddling him. He reached for her belt buckle as she kissed him, over and over.

This was madness. Utter, fantastic madness.

He had her buckle undone and the top button on her linen pants open, unzipping slowly, and she laughed with sheer abandon. “I never do this,” she murmured, wondering if he’d think she was easy. Wondering if it was too late to be wondering about that kind of thing.

Wondering, halfheartedly, if she really cared.

“I never do this, either,” he said instead, and he smiled at her, a sugary kind of smile that had her smiling right back before he started kissing her again, deeply, and moving her over on her back. “You are exceptional in all kinds of ways, Sophie Jones.”

“And you’re wonderful,” she said, and meant it. She barely registered the fact that he’d tugged her pants off, leaving them on the floor. Now she was in her underwear and knee-high socks, and he was still in his trousers. “Come here.”

He slipped off his trousers and socks and then he was just in boxers, striped white and blue, which for no reason she thought was amusing until she saw the erection tenting the front of the material. She suddenly didn’t find anything funny at all. She only felt desire, white-hot and ravenous.

He covered her with his body, kissing her, and she kissed him back passionately. She reveled in the feeling of his fingers combing through her hair, and she clutched at his back.

Then she felt his hand smooth down her shoulder, skim over her rib cage and cup her breast.

“Oh,” she gasped, tearing her mouth away from his as the sensation shot through her. After two years, it was almost more than she could bear, complete sensation overload on a global scale.

His hand paused on her, and she could feel the heat of his palm through the lace of her bra. “All right? Are you okay?”

“More than,” she murmured, arching her back and pressing more firmly into his hand. He was between her legs, only the thin material of her panties and his boxers between them. “This is…Oh, my.”

He pushed once, experimentally, and circled her nipple with his fingers at the same time. She opened her eyes long enough to see him smile, a tender smile, and she almost came undone in his arms.

He leaned down and kissed her again, and she couldn’t help it…. She wrapped her legs around his, feeling herself go damp enough to soak her underwear. He had to feel it, too, because she could feel the muscles at his shoulders bunching and heard him groan against her neck as he pressed a hard kiss against her. “You’re sure?” he whispered.

“More sure than I’ve been about anything,” she said recklessly. “Please. Please, make love to me.”

He pulled back, his blue eyes lit like blowtorches. “I want to, believe me.” He paused. “I can’t believe I’m asking this, but…you wouldn’t happen to have a condom, would you?”

She whimpered. “No. I don’t…. That is…I haven’t had sex in a long time.” And she really, really wanted to rectify that, she thought, staring at the harsh beauty of his face, the absolute perfection of his torso…the feel of him pressing between her thighs.

“Damn it.” He rolled off her, and she felt bereft, trying to follow him, but he kept her at arm’s length.

“What is it?”

“I don’t have a condom, either,” he said, his breathing ragged. “I don’t do this, like I said, and I don’t generally travel with condoms handy.”

She felt frustration claw at her, and couldn’t help but let out a growl of pain. Even so, a little part of her felt a thrill…glad that he didn’t do this all the time. Glad that she wasn’t the only one who was out of her mind because of this whole situation. “I’m sorry,” she said inanely.

“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…

He winced.

Sophie.

He took a deep breath, glanced at his watch. Eight-forty. He should leave in five minutes. He prayed that Sophie hadn’t rushed off….

He looked down the hallway again, as furtive as a spy, then knocked softly on her door. Then knocked louder.

“Just a minute!”

She opened the door. She looked…well, wet, to be honest, her toffee-colored waves pulled back in a ponytail that emphasized the classic lines of her face. She was wearing glasses, cute wire-rims. She blinked at him as she put an earring in her ear.

“Hi,” he said, and without waiting for an invitation, he dashed into her room.

“Um, hi. I’m in a hurry….”

“I can’t find my phone,” he explained, looking around. She’d done the same thing as he had—dug into her bags for clothes—but otherwise everything was as is. Except for the clothes she’d stripped off last night, which were still in a trail that led to the bed.

Don’t think about it, don’t think about it….

“Listen, about last night,” she said softly.

“No worries,” he interrupted. “Really. We were both tired, we weren’t really thinking, it just seemed like a good idea at the time….”

“That’s not it.”

He looked up, finally. She looked near tears.

He tried not to think about how hot she’d been. How very, very much he’d wanted her. How much he still wanted her, come to that. She was amazing, sweet and sexier than anybody he’d met in a long time.

“It’s not that bad,” he said. “You didn’t…”

Before he could say anything else, she flew at him, and he felt that hot, mobile mouth of hers against his. And whatever strange craziness had come over him last night was back again with a vengeance. It wasn’t a fluke…wasn’t because they were tired, wasn’t because they were punch-drunk and lonely.

She still wanted him.

His hands clutched at the small of her back, dragging her up against him…. Then he pulled away. What was he doing? He had a meeting in minutes, and so did she, and what were they doing?

Besides, you still don’t have a condom.

“I still want you,” she breathed. “I know the timing’s lousy, and it’s probably not anything either of us should do anything about, I mean we’re professionals, and…” She stopped. “I’m babbling.”