Box of 1Night Stands: 17 Sizzling Nights

by Sabrina York

Breathless, she lifted her face to him. “This is unwise.”

  “We will hear anyone else coming long before they get here.” Simon didn’t care if they were discovered. She was his betrothed and, by this time tomorrow, she would be his wife.

  Chandra bit her lip and glanced over her shoulder again, exposing the elegant line of her neck. “I think we should—”

  Such a temptation was too much for him to ignore. He didn’t want to hear what they should or should not do. The only way to prevent her from speaking would be to take her breath away. He grasped her nape, pulled her into him, and kissed her. Unlike their last evening together, he was able to relax into the kiss. He didn’t feel he must fight to keep their life together. He didn’t have to prove anything, only show her he loved her.

  Although society frowned on couples wearing their hearts on their sleeves, he didn’t care. He planned to make it known to all that she was taken and he wanted the mamas he had softly brushed off over the last two years to see he had no interest in marrying their virginal daughters, nor having a tryst with the mamas themselves. The ring he would put on Chandra’s hand would take care of their speculation.

  “You’re smiling,” she observed.

  “I’m happy. For more reasons than you can imagine. Shall we announce our impending wedding?”

  “No. Let’s surprise everyone.” She threw her arms around him again and kissed him.

  A giggle came from nearby, closer than Simon was ready for. In that moment, he wanted the announcement of their wedding to be honorable and not clouded in gossip. Breaking away from Chandra, he shoved her behind him. Not a second later, two intertwined bodies came into view, one of which he recognized.

  “Andrew?” He enjoyed the same scene play out as his friend shoved his companion behind him and out of sight, though Simon suspected Andrew’s reasoning had more to do with not being caught in the matrimonial noose than on protecting her honor.

  “What the hell are you doing out here?” Andrew asked.

  “Looking for some privacy,” Simon drawled.

  “So I see.” Andrew called out, “Good Evening, Mrs. Mallory.”

  Chandra shifted from behind Simon. “Lord Windenshire.”

  Simon glanced back and forth between Chandra and his friend. “You two know each other?”

  She laughed. “You didn’t think you were the only lord I knew, did you?”

  Andrew hid his own laugh behind his hand and an obvious cough. Simon glared at him before facing Chandra, who gave him a cheeky grin. “No, I didn’t think that. It does surprise me to know you are well-acquainted with this rakehell.”

  “No need for name slinging.” Andrew said, then drew his companion into the maze. “If it’s all the same to you both, we will seek another, quite private retreat.”

  “By your leave,” Simon replied.

  Andrew nodded at Chandra. “Mrs. Mallory, a pleasure as always.”

  “Milord. Perhaps you would like to come by Simon’s London home tomorrow.” She looked at Simon for a confirmation of the time.

  He smiled, bringing her hand to his lips. “About two.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” With that, Andrew gave a slight bow and whisked his lady friend back the way they had come.

  “You’ll excuse me if I’m thrilled that will be the last time I hear you referred to as ‘Mrs. Mallory.’”

  “I have carried that name for so long and still I find I am anxious to try out my new name and title. I fear it will take me a bit to get used to.”

  Cupping her face, he said, “I will be there every step of the way to help you feel comfortable in your new life. I will stand by you, support you, and guide you. All you have to do is ask.”

  “Tomorrow cannot come fast enough. I fear something will burst this bubble of happiness I feel.”

  “As do I. But I am willing to make sure it doesn’t.” He led her out of the hedge maze, the years of doing it blindfolded helping him maneuver though the turns. Rather than heading toward the ballroom, he took the path around the large house to the side entrance that led to the main square. “Come home with me tonight. Stay in my arms until daylight breaks, never leave my side until we say ‘I will’ in front of the minister.”

  She nodded her confirmation and placed her head on his shoulder.

  Hand in hand and without speaking, they walked the block required to get to his family home. At the foot of the stairs he kissed her again, only stopping when he heard the slight clearing of a throat from the landing above. His butler, Wallace, greeted them with a smile, and to his new mistress, he bowed, welcoming her to her new home.

  “We can tour the house tomorrow. Wallace, we are not to be disturbed.” Bending down, Simon lifted Chandra into his arms and said to the butler, “First thing in the morning, please send some servants to pack up your mistress’s house. I believe you know the address. And the minister is due here by two, so please inform Cook to have a spread ready.”

  “Yes, milord.”

  Simon took the steps two at a time, striding down hallways he knew she would never remember. Finally arriving at his bedchamber, he found candles lit for his return. Lowering her to her feet, he nuzzled her ear. “Tomorrow, you become my marchioness, but tonight I will make you my wife.”

  Chandra said nothing, but he suspected she understood his meaning. In this room, her actions spoke louder than words. With each kiss, every touch, she let him know she loved him.

  In the morning, he would have to send a thank-you note to Madame Eve for bringing Chandra back into his life. And, perhaps, when their first daughter made her appearance they would name her Evangeline. For now, however, he focused on loving and cherishing this woman and thanking the good Lord above that he’d been given a second chance to win her over.

  Reaching a palm out to her, Simon said, “Come, my love, to our bed. Let us start as we mean to continue. Side by side.”

  “Together.” She placed her hand in his and followed his lead. “I love you, Simon, and I always will.”

  Masculine pride flowed through him and her words nearly brought him to his knees with their potency. He undressed them both, helping her into the bed before he followed. Kissing her bare shoulder, he pulled her back into his embrace. Her soft backside fit perfectly against his front. Although his cock hardened and demanded to be taken care of, Simon was content to hold her. He had years to prove her wrong about her inability to create a child. In that moment, nothing else mattered, not his lust or fears about procreating. It was about them; one woman and one man, in love.

  Beyond that, nothing mattered.

  ~From the Author~

  Award winning author Dominique Eastwick grew up a US Navy Brat, so if there was a Naval base that was probably home. She currently resides in North Carolina with her husband, two children, crazy lab and lazy cat.

  When not writing you can find Dominique behind the lens of her camera.

  You can visit Dominique at:

  www.dominiqueEastwick.com

  Sweet Irish Kiss

  JoAnne Kenrick

  A 1 Night Stand Story

  ~DEDICATION~

  To Valerie, Kate and Olivia...for starting the 1 NightStand Series which has given me endless hours of reading entertainment. I can only hope my addition does the series justice. Thanks, ladies!

  Chapter One

  Shaun drew back his arm, sucked in a breath, and took his shot. The instant his grip left the barrel, the dart ripped through the air with a precision only seen in that of a...well...drunk. Or someone inflicted with a bad case of nerves.

  He missed the board by an inch, and the crowd reacted with rowdy laughter.

  “Bounce out!”

  “He’s right, you totally missed that board. How many you had?” Another one of them raised his glass in a salute. The action caused his pint of dark ale to swish down his clothes and over the wood floor. “Oh shit, missus is gonna be pissed now. Supposed to be at work, not boozing it up in Bell’s with me Irish lot.”
r />   Shaun ignored the shout-outs, shuffled his right foot a touch more forward, and threw another. The tip of the dart tilted down the instant it took flight, and the Bell logo’d tail failed to catch air. It plummeted toward the oak floor and a nearby punter. He jerked his foot out the way in the nick of time, though, and his look of horror jolted Shaun straight. The punter laughed it off and tipped his empty glass in Shaun’s direction. He nodded in return. The nod was an unspoken rule in Bell’s Irish Pub—his pub. It meant a drink on-the-house, and only the regulars knew this.

  “Shit, me game is way off tonight.”

  “Ya game is fine, but ya booze-eyes are a problem. Not like ya ta drink this much. I reckon ya banjo’d, so ya are.” Devlin’s thick Irish accent coated each word; a childhood bud and Shaun’s only full-time bartender, he’d come over from Northern Ireland weeks earlier.

  Shaun staggered toward his friend behind the bar, tail between his legs. Devlin reached over and snatched the remaining dart from him. He frowned. “No more darts for ya tonight. Ya need ta sober up, so ya do. Coffee? Aye, it’s time for a coffee. San, bring this lad a strong’n.” Sandra, a part timer and the only born ’n bred Londoner in the building tonight, scurried to the pot and set about getting her boss a cup of the good stuff.

  “Gawdon Bennet! Donkey Amateur Dart night. I curse internet shopping and that darn dart board Shaun found doing it.” Sandra clanked the teaspoon in her boss’s cup and went about her vent session with vengeance. “Lawd above! Sunday nights were nice before that bunch took residence. Should be home with my grandkids telling them tales, not here serving this impatient lot, innit.” She poured the full-fat milk and presented the coffee to Shaun. “There, don’t say I don’t do nothing for you.” He winked at her. “Don’t you go flashing your gorgeous greens at me, either. It’s so not gonna fly, mister!” Sandra wiped down the bar and went to serve a punter.

  “Dev, I’ve only had two pints. What the hell is wrong with me?” He perched on a barstool and smiled at his friend. He’d lived in London since a child, so his Irish slang wasn’t as pronounced as Devlin’s.

  “Pack that in for starters. Ya need ta save it for ya lady friend tomorrow.” Shaun laughed and ushered him to the customer side of the bar by patting the empty barstool to his right.

  “San, pour up a pint of Beamish for me mate here.” He frowned upon seeing his friend’s mocking expression. “’I don’t mind admitting I’m nervous about tomorrow night.”

  “Well, I got ya that stuff ya asked for. It’s in da duffle bag behind da bar.”

  “The candles, mood music, and some condoms? It’s all there? Ya sure? I wanna make a good impression.”

  “Nervous much?” Devlin took the pint offered by Sandra and necked half of it on more or less one breath.

  “An arranged one-night stand. That’s weird, don’t ya think?”

  “Fucking genius is what it is. Don’t question it. Enjoy it.” Devlin wiped away the beer froth from his mouth and grinned.

  “But what if she doesn’t like me?”

  “You’ll win her with ya Irish charm and green eyes, so ya will. Now drink up ya coffee and stop whining like a baby. This girl’s gonna have a fantastic night tomorrow. She’s gonna worship da ground ya cock drags on.”

  Shaun growled and nudged his friend. “Hush up, ya crude bastard.”

  “So, what’s da girl like, anyway? Anything like ya ex?”

  “Not a clue. Nothing like the wine totties and mingers that come in here, hopefully, or me ex. 1NightStand’s rigorous questionnaire should have found me someone half decent. Pages long, so it was. Fucking pages. Almost felt like the questions were aimed at me, too.”

  “Yeah? Like what?”

  “Are ya happy with ya balance of work and play? Do ya find others telling ya that ya are too generous? Is it time to settle down?” Shaun raised an eyebrow at the word generous and nodded to his friend’s drink. “Ya paying for that?”

  “Shit, yeah, those questions are Shaun custom made. Here’s ta her not being like ya light-fingered, easily distracted ex.” Devlin finished his drink and slammed the empty onto the aged oak bar. Sandra held out her hand for cash and Devlin took her fingers in his like a proper gent might. Except for the slobbering kiss that followed.

  “Two quid, mate.” Sandra broke free of his grip and scrubbed herself with a wet-wipe.

  “Yeah, yeah.” Devlin slapped two one-pound coins on the bar which Sandra tried to claim for the cash register.

  Shaun stopped her mid-money grab. “Kidding, this one’s on me.”

  Sandra rolled her eyes. “Drinks are always on you. Anymore and you’ll be swimming in ale.”

  “Have one yourself, San.” Shaun winked at her again. She laughed, muttered something, and poured herself a gin and tonic. “Don’t know how they think questions like that will find me a date. But Madame Evangeline says....”

  “Madame Evangeline?” Devlin took the seat next to his friend and played with a coaster.

  “The woman who runs the site.”

  “Madame? So, you’re, like, seeing a hooker? Whey, hey. Tell her ta bring along a friend and I’ll join the party.” Devlin picked at a corner of the cardboard mat with Bell’s Pub’s logo on it.

  “She’s French is all. It’s a regular matchmaking site. And if all ya after is a quick shag, ya should work Friday nights instead...or contact me ex. She’s always up for a quickie with anyone.” Shaun snatched the coaster away from him—before Devlin could scatter tiny bits everywhere and mess up his bar—and catapulted it toward the trashcan.

  “Easy, boyo. Ya don’t hate me that much, do ya?”

  “Course not, I’m messing with ya is all. But I’m serious about Friday nights.”

  “If I work Friday’s, you’ll give me Saturday off?” Devlin pouted.

  Shaun shook his head. “Saturday is our busiest night, ya know that. Who knew gay night would be so popular, and they love ya and ya silver tongue. Ya could always come in for a drink on ya night off. That's when the place is packed out the most with women on the prowl.”

  Devlin paused for a second. “I should take ya place on this date. I’m more needy.” Shaun laughed at the suggestion. “I guess that’s a no? Oh, well. Ya tell this Madame whatshername thanks from me, because I put a twenty down on ya, so I did. And them nerves of yours killed ya game.”

  “A twenty? Is that all? Big spender.” Shaun waved Sandra over and pointed at his empty.

  “Shaun, ya don’t pay me enough ta throw any more than a twenty away. So, what’s this girl like?”

  “According to her profile, she enjoys Baileys over ice, going to the movies, and refuses to watch the Grand National because she thinks it’s cruel. Oh, and she hates dressing up in posh frocks.” Shaun attempted to grab Sandra’s attention again and waved his arms in the air as if flagging down a taxi.

  She signaled she’d get to him in a second.

  “Hates dressing up? Hope that doesn’t mean she’s a minger because a tasty lass usually likes to get dressed up. Other than that, she sounds perfect. Low maintenance and a heart.” Devlin patted his friend on the back in a well-done-chap kind of way. “Ya should totally play with her, though, and quickly add ta ya profile that ya like ya women to dress up.”

  “Hell, she can wear whatever she wants, so long as it’s not green. Fucking hate the color.” He craned his neck and scanned the coordinated interior; green leather on the stools, bunting, and stained glass. Even the beer mats matched.

  “We’re Irish, so we’ve gotta love green. It’s in our blood or something. And if she does wear it, ya can enjoy ripping it off her. Right? Right?” He jarred. “ Hey San, fill me up, too?”

  Devlin slid his empty toward the flustered barmaid who tsked but went about her job like a professional.

  “Wrong. The whole idea of this one-night stand is for me to remember what women like, and to be in the company of a woman I’m attracted to without sweating profusely. It’s not about screwing her senseless.” Shaun shook his
head and wondered how the two of them had ever become friends. They were like chalk and cheese.

  “Sure hope it wasn’t expensive because there’s numbers on the lav doors that could have given ya a cheap date for the night.” Devlin stood and tried to usher his friend to the restrooms.

  Shaun laughed and pushed him back to sitting. “Toilet door numbers are not the go for me. Ya know that’s not me style.”

  “And dating sites are ya style?”

  “I’ve gotta get back in the game somehow, and 1NightStand is 100 percent safe for both her and me. When I find the right lass, I want to be able to seize the opportunity. I want to settle down, Dev. I’m ready for the real thing. A house, kids...the whole shebang. This is me simply opening that door, safely.”

  “Settle down? What are ya? Sixty?” Dev shook his head.

  Sandra presented the lads with new drinks. “Need the lav. Will one of you cover me?” She scurried off before either had a chance to answer.

  “No, but I sure as hell don’t want to be still single at sixty.” Shaun made his way behind the bar and grabbed a tea towel. He set about mopping up all proof of anyone having been served beer in the last ten minutes. “Dev, ya supposed to be doing this. Can’t get good staff, eh?”

  “So. Ya not going ta bang her, then?”

  “Guess that depends on me seduction techniques, and her.” He laughed and chucked the sodden material at Devlin’s face.

  Chapter Two

  Pretentious, that’s how Rachel described the infamous Knightsbridge store where she worked. She loved her job, though. It meant she could let loose, make crazy-ass window displays, and stretch her imagination beyond the high street fashion trends. Usually.

  “Fucking yuppie fashion.” She stood, pin cushion in hand, staring out the huge plate glass window. The rain drizzled over passing shoppers who huddled and shared umbrellas with loved ones. She wished she could have someone she could trust to protect her when life pissed all over her, but she didn’t have anyone like that. The big brick wall she’d built had seen to it.