The One for Me

by Sydney Landon

  • • •

  Mark sat at the bar, sipping a glass of wine while Denny and Angel cleaned the kitchen and picked on each other like old friends. He wasn’t jealous in the least that his cousin was getting along so well with the woman in his life. Strangely, he felt the most peaceful he had in years. It wasn’t that he and Denny didn’t have meals together often. In fact, it was normal for one of them to cook dinner when neither of them had plans that evening. What was unusual was how seamlessly she fit in with them, as if she’d always been a part of their group. Denny liked Angel, he could tell—and not in a sexual way. His connection from the first had been more of that of a sibling.

  After dinner, Crystal had dragged Denny up with her and demanded he help her clean since Mark had cooked for them. His cousin had put up a token argument, saying something about it being women’s work, which caused her to smack him lightly on the back of the head. Mark had smiled, both amused and, fuck it all, enchanted. That was what he was—charmed and entranced by her. He kept waiting for the overwhelming urge to push her away and move on, but it never came. Even when he’d freaked the previous night and had taken off after their talk about her ex-husband, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. He’d spent the day wanting to go to her but trying to resist. Until Denny told him to check his Twitter account. He’d been pissed to see something like that from her—then, strangely enough, he’d been upset that he’d hurt her. Because clearly she’d misinterpreted the cause of his abrupt departure.

  He allowed himself to admit that he not only wanted to be in a relationship—he was in one with Crystal. Whether she knew it or not, all things Crystal Webber captivated him, and he didn’t see that changing anytime soon. When he thought of the future now, she was always there. He didn’t know what that meant, but seeing as he was sitting there calmly watching her flick water at his cousin and had no desire to run, he figured it was a good sign. He knew most people would consider this moving too fast. But to him, this was reaching for something that he’d never dreamed was possible. She was all goodness, light, and maybe even redemption, and he wanted it—needed it—because, after the first night with her had opened his eyes, he knew he couldn’t go back to the meaningless life he’d been living all these years.

  A thump on his shoulder suddenly pulled him from his thoughts. Angel stood in front of him with a mischievous grin, holding a towel. Obviously, she’d swatted him with it. He greedily took in the sight of her, looking so content. He wanted to take her to the bedroom and lose himself in her for hours. From the flush spreading across her cheeks, she knew exactly what he was thinking. Never taking his eyes from her, he said, “Good night, Denny.” He heard his cousin laugh softly, but this time he held his playful comments and simply waved before leaving.

  “I really like him,” she said softly as the door closed behind his cousin. “He’s a nice guy. I can tell that you two are close. Did you grow up together?”

  He took her hand, pulling her closer until she was standing between his spread legs. “Do you really want to chat right now?”

  She gave him what he figured was her best poker face, but he could see the corners of her mouth twitching. “What else are you offering?” And he told her in explicit detail with a few creative twists thrown in and watched her lips form a perfect O. “Talking’s really overrated.” She shrugged. And that right there was yet another reason she had succeeded where others had never tempted him into anything serious. He never knew what she would give him. Sometimes sweet and innocent, then there was sassy, and his personal favorite, purring kitten. She loved to be touched, stroked, and petted. The way her body arched when his hands were on her was one of the most beautiful sights he’d even seen. She responded to his touch as if she’d been made for him. He was becoming so accustomed to the unexpected from her that he barely blinked when she pulled back enough to shed her clothing. “Race you to the bedroom.”

  He attempted to sound stern when he said, “Angel,” but he shot to his feet and ran after her. He grabbed her by the waist in the hallway, swinging her up into his arms as she shrieked. “Got you, baby. Looks like I’m the winner tonight.” Looking down into her smiling eyes, he thought those words summed up perfectly how he was feeling about the whole evening.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Crystal sought Mia out during her break the next morning. She winced as she took a seat on the chair in front of her friend’s desk. Mark had been insatiable the previous night, and her body felt battered in the most wonderful way. The man certainly had some stamina. They hadn’t even made it to the bedroom the first time; instead he’d had her to lean on the arm of his sofa. He’d then spread her open wide and proceeded to lick her from end to end. She was certain she’d passed out a few times before he finished wringing a couple of orgasms out of her. He’d kept her in the same position and taken her hard from behind. She had been grateful that her feet weren’t touching the floor because otherwise they would have buckled. Then they’d moved on to a bath, where she’d ended up riding him—while flooding the bathroom. And God, she couldn’t forget the shower sex this morning. Wrapped around his waist and pushed against the wall. Sleepy, tousled Mark, all slippery and yummy.

  Fingers snapped in front of her, and she flinched. “I don’t know what you’re thinking about over there, Crys, but if the heavy breathing is any indication, it must be damn good.” Mia winked. “Come on, tell me all about it. Seth’s out of town, and I’m on a dry spell.”

  Rolling her eyes, Crystal asked, “How long have you been suffering this time? A whole day?”

  “Hey, don’t make light of my pain,” Mia joked. “He’s been gone eighteen hours, and he’s not due back until later tonight.”

  “I don’t know how you’re going to make it,” Crystal cried dramatically. “How are you able to work? To even function in society with that level of neglect? I’d just kick Seth to the curb and be done with it if he can’t keep up with you properly.”

  Kicking her feet up on top of her desk, Mia nodded. “Yeah, I would—except he packs about five days’ worth of loving into every session. So even though I don’t like going without—I’ve got enough reserves to get by awhile longer.” Giving her a questioning look, Mia said, “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, what brings you to my neck of the woods so early? I gathered from your text yesterday that you DeStudo have made up.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Crystal grinned. “We sure did. And it was amazing as always. But that’s not why I’m here.” Mia flicked her hand, encouraging her to get on with it. Biting her lip, she admitted, “Well . . . I’m going to marriage counseling with Bill this evening.”

  “What?” Mia shrilled. Her friend looked like a guppy fish as her mouth flapped open and closed. “Bu-but I thought that was over. I mean, you’re sleeping with Mark, right?”

  “That’s right,” she agreed. “We’re having a just sex nonrelationship.”

  Mia rubbed her temple as if in pain. “Er—honey, if you’re sleeping with one man, should you really be trying to get back together with another one? I mean, no judgment here, but that sounds kind of . . . duplicitous.”

  “But I’m not going back to Bill,” Crystal pointed out.

  Enunciating each word carefully, Mia asked, “Then. Why. Are. You. Going. To. Counseling. With. Him?”

  Crystal squirmed in her seat. “I can’t help it. I feel sorry for him. He’s called me for the past two days begging me to go. I caved under the pressure this morning when it sounded as if he was crying. It’s not a big deal, though. We were married for a long time. What’s a few more hours for old times’ sake?”

  Mia now looked as if she were close to beating her head against her desk. “Did you ever think that possibly he’s just playing you? He, better than anyone, knows what a soft heart you have. You’d probably agree to go to marriage counseling with King Kong if he shed a tear or two. What does Mark have to say about this?”

  “I can’t tell him,” Crystal whispered, after looking over her shoulder to
make certain the door was still closed. “He doesn’t like discussing Bill. Remember how he reacted a few nights ago when I told him about seeing him at my mother’s?”

  “Out of curiosity,” Mia began, “how do you think you’re going to hide this from him? What if he wants to see you tonight?”

  “He left for Charleston this morning,” she admitted. “He said he won’t be back until sometime tomorrow, so I’m good.”

  “You dumped all of this on me because you were afraid of putting Gwen in labor, weren’t you?” Mia asked astutely. “Plus you knew that your sister would probably have a heart attack over it.”

  “Well . . .” Crystal hedged, “nothing really shakes you, and I had to tell someone in case Bill drags me off afterward.”

  “Well, hell,” Mia huffed. “Now, I’m your enabler. I want to officially go on the record as being opposed to this crazy bleeding-heart sympathy counseling you’re doing with Bill. I’ll keep my mouth shut, but I want you to promise me that you’ll talk to him after it’s over tonight. Let him know where you stand and that this was a onetime thing for you.”

  Crystal crossed her heart. “I will. I’ll invite him for coffee and tell him the truth.”

  “All right.” Mia sighed, sounding resigned. “I just know this isn’t gonna end well, but you’re a grown woman. I hope you know what you’re doing. Often it’s better for someone to have no hope than the false kind.”

  Crystal was on her feet and almost to the door. Turning back, she asked, “Are you talking about me or Bill?”

  “God knows at this point,” Mia admitted.

  • • •

  What a mistake, Crystal thought dazedly as Bill used yet another tissue to wipe his eyes. She had to admit that the man who she’d always thought was oblivious to her feelings seemed to have a long and very detailed list of every time he’d hurt her in the past. As he listed each and every one of them, she nodded politely while he begged for forgiveness. As their hour drew to a close, she was physically and emotionally exhausted. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but it wasn’t to sit quietly the entire time while Bill talked nonstop and the counselor nodded approvingly before finally saying brightly, “This was a great session, you two. Bill, you communicated your feelings beautifully. And Crystal, next week we’ll begin with you. After that, we can have joint discussions as we work to put your broken pieces back together again.” Then she clapped—she honest-to-God clapped—her hands and said in a peppy shout, “Now stand up and take a bow—you both deserve it!” Nightmare on my street.

  Bill jumped to his feet enthusiastically. When Crystal remained seated, mainly in shock, both the counselor and her ex-husband looked at her expectedly. So she had little choice but to stand and bow as if she’d just finished the starring role in a third-grade play. Shoot me now. After that, there was no way she could force herself to spend more time with Bill, even if they did need to talk. So she said the first thing that she could come up with, to get away quickly. “I’ve really got to go. It’s that time of the month.”

  Thank the Lord that some things never changed. Bill looked like he was ready to bolt at her words, and he stammered out, “Oh, um, sure. You go do—whatever, um, you need to.” She waved limply with one hand while holding her stomach for good measure with the other and shuffled quickly to her car.

  And just to give her a swift kick, fate took that exact moment to make her phone chime. She fumbled in her purse, pulling it out to see a message from her mother. It’s about time you got your head on right. Bill told me that you’re getting back together. Don’t mess it up this time! Complete with an exclamation mark and a fucking emoticon with a frowny face.

  The scales were officially out of balance in her life once again. The good side with her nonrelationship was rapidly being overwhelmed by the bad side with Bill and her ex-husband-loving mother. Joining the Peace Corps was sounding really good right about now.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was almost two in the morning when Mark walked in the door of his Charleston home. He loosened his tie and tossed his suit jacket on the back of a chair. Evenings with his parents were freaking exhausting and he wanted nothing more than to leave the city and not come back. Every once in a great while, his father decided to make an ass of himself to get attention. And he’d done that yesterday afternoon. As usual, he’d been either drunk, high, or a combination of both.

  He’d learned long ago that things would continue to escalate unless he gave his father the outlet he was seeking, which was usually an opportunity to flex his imaginary muscle. When his grandfather had turned the family company over to him, his father had nearly gone ballistic. Mark couldn’t understand how his father was the only one who didn’t see it coming. After all, Mark had taken a stagnant company and shot it straight to the top, ahead of all of their competition. His business instincts were spot-on almost without fail, and that was something that his shrewd grandfather had picked up on right away. Therefore, while his father lived the life of an overgrown playboy, Mark quietly took control and never looked back. And his parents cursed him for it even as they ran through the money he made for them like water.

  His parents shared a bizarre relationship. He knew that they both had lovers and didn’t bother to hide their affairs from each other. Yet they had each other’s backs in a way that Mark would never comprehend, considering the state of their marriage. No doubt money played a part, as his mother was used to living the good life. When he was forced to spend time with them, he never ceased to be amazed by their actions, even though he should know what to expect from them by now. His mother would pretend for a few hours that she actually gave a damn about what was going on in Mark’s life, and his father would go through a rehearsed list of all of the ways that Mark had embarrassed and failed them. It was almost like some childish bid for attention.

  During the time that he was with them, his father would toss back one drink after another while his mother ate a couple of bites of salad. Then she would produce a compact from her purse and carefully reapply her lipstick and touch the skin under her eyes as if checking for any new wrinkles. If was as if she didn’t hear a single word that her husband slurred out.

  Looking at them tonight across the table, he’d felt something in addition to the usual anger and impatience. He’d had an epiphany of sorts. He’d avoided relationships all of his adult life because he’d been terrified of becoming what his parents were. Hell, it hadn’t been long ago that his friend Brant had accused him of having mommy and daddy issues and he’d laughed in agreement and told him that he’d even throw in some grandparent issues as well. He’d been moody that day because he’d just finished dealing with his father’s latest tantrum. He’d shown up drunk and disorderly at the DeSanto Group’s Charleston headquarters, and Hank, one of the security guards there, had been forced to call Mark and ask what to do. That had been one of the worst instances since his father had swung at Hank before being subdued. Just another fucking moment of family embarrassment.

  But tonight, when he’d been at his lowest point of the evening—ready to toss his napkin on the table, have the jet fueled, and leave the country—his phone had chimed. He’d pulled it from his pocket, welcoming any excuse to block out his father’s grating voice. There had been a surprising text that instantly soothed his despair and brought a smile to his lips. Hey, DeStudo . . . I’ll never complain about being a booty call again. Could use one right about now. . . . A smiley face followed the comment.

  She would never know how much he had needed that text from her tonight. He’d quickly hit the REPLY button and typed, Wish I could oblige, Angel. . . . You okay? Regardless of her words, he didn’t think she was necessarily trying to sext him. He had a feeling that like himself, she might have had a rough evening and just needed to reach out. It was already after ten, and he hoped like hell he could get out of here soon so he could call her before she went to bed. He longed to hear her sweet voice and her laughter tonight. Normally, after a hellish dinner lik
e this, he’d be looking for someone to take the edge off for a few hours. Physical exertion followed by a release—or several of them. Right now, though, the idea of a one-night stand held no appeal for him.

  He was still holding his phone when she responded, I’m fine . . . but I miss you. As he sat reading her words and wondering why the sentiment she’d expressed wasn’t freaking him out, another one chimed right behind it. Crap! I shouldn’t have said that. I mean—we barely know each other and now you’re going to think I’m some kind of clinger. He’d no sooner finished reading that comment when another popped up. He couldn’t help it; he started to laugh. She went on berating herself for at least two minutes before there was a lull in the action. God, he loved how adorably rattled she got when she was nervous. He could only imagine how flustered she was right about now.

  Before she could continue on, he typed out, It’s fine, Angel. Then, because it was very much true, he added something he’d never admitted to another woman. Miss you too.

  Really?? Her reply was almost immediate.

  Across the table, his mother had called his name and he’d known his reprieve was over. His fingers flew over his phone and he sent back, Yeah, baby. Call you later, before turning once again to his parents.

  In the end, it was hours before he’d gotten away. He’d ended up taking them home since their driver was off for the rest of the night. His mother had insisted he come in and he figured that she needed his help with getting his father into bed after he passed out. He had no idea how she handled it on other nights, but some part of him couldn’t leave her stranded. She’d never be mother of the year, but she was a damn sight better than her husband.