I knew better—no scratching itches when they interfered with my focus.
Hopping out of the shower, I towel-dried my hair, twisted it in a bun, swiped on some gloss and powder from my purse, and pulled on my new panties.
Once I dressed, I marched out of the room, not even glancing at the carnage of the night.
I didn’t have time for romance.
I clearly didn’t have time for sex.
I hightailed it to the Bellagio, meeting Trish a few minutes late at her favorite Asian restaurant.
“Tell me what you’ve got,” she said with a grin.
I flashed back on the weekend.
Don’t you deserve this?
Every woman should feel spectacular.
Indulge your senses.
But as I shared my marketing thoughts, I didn’t feel spectacular. I didn’t feel like I deserved anything.
I felt dirty rather than decadent.
Especially since I was falling for a man who didn’t want strings.
Sort of like falling for an escort, only infinitely more foolish.
When I left the meeting, I texted Jake to tell him that I was busy the rest of the day and couldn’t meet him that night.
His reply told me everything I needed to know.
18
Jake
“Yes!”
I thrust my arms up in a V for victory as Carson scored a goal for the Cougars.
“Way to go!” my sister yelled, louder and prouder, at least by a little bit.
We high-fived each other as her kid fist-bumped his teammates by the net.
“He’s the man,” I said to Christine when the action in the game resumed.
“And so are you. Thank you for showing up. It’s really good to have you here.” She rested her head briefly on my shoulder. “For him and for me.”
I tousled her hair. “Good to be here. It’s not a chore. I love it—and you.”
“Ditto,” she said.
This was an excellent Sunday. Morning sex, family bonding, and my nephew owning the soccer field.
I couldn’t complain—not one bit.
Well, I could.
Kate had seemed slightly out of sorts when I took off this morning.
But we’d both overslept, and she didn’t have the luxury of living as close to the hotel as I did. I’d grabbed a quick shower, pulled on jeans and a T-shirt, and still reached the game on time. I should check in with her soon, see if she made it to her meeting, and then make some plans with her for tonight.
As Carson’s team moved downfield, I shouted, “Keep it up, Cougs!”
Christine shot me a glance. “You’re in a festive mood.”
“And why shouldn’t I be?”
She lifted a curious brow. “Why should you be? Does this mean you took my advice for the weekend?”
I held out my right hand as if showing off a manicure. “Yes, I went to the spa. Had my nails done.” I dragged a hand down my cheek. “Indulged in a facial. And then got a hot-stone massage.”
She rolled her eyes. “Smart-ass.”
“Learned it from you,” I said. Then, because I was in a good mood, I tossed her a crumb of gossip. “I took the weekend off. Spent some time with Kate.”
She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.
“Excited much?” I teased. “Also, why are you excited so much?”
She dropped her hand by her side, nearly squealing, and my sister is not a squealer. “Like I said, you sparkle around her.”
I shook my head, but I was laughing as I denied it. “I’m not a sparkler.”
“So, how was it?”
I pretended to be offended. “I don’t sparkle and tell.”
Her arm darted out, and she swatted my shoulder. “So, you did?”
Ah, hell.
My sister was such a sneak. I hadn’t meant to give away the personal details.
But then again, I was in a good mood, and good moods could loosen lips. I gave a what can I say shrug. “We spent some time together, and it was nice.”
“Nice? It was nice? Waiters are nice. A penguin backpack is nice. A thank-you card is nice. A night or two with the woman you’ve had it bad for is not nice. It’s either fantastic or something you never want to repeat.” She parked her hands on her hips. “Which one was it?”
As Christine glared at me, I made my decision. It was official. My sister was a mind reader, no two ways about it.
“Kate is great,” I said, trying to rein in a grin.
She pumped a fist. “Knew it. Called it. When do you see her again?”
“Tonight, as a matter of fact.” As I said it, I made another decision too.
Tonight, I’d let Kate know.
I’d make it clear I wanted more than a simple extension to our weekend.
I wanted to see what might happen beyond the boundaries of our deal.
Because I’d realized last night that when we were together, wrapped up in each other, I hadn’t wanted to let her go. It wasn’t just the earth-shattering sex. It was her. I wanted to learn more about her. To talk over shishito peppers and wine, to discuss books and friends, to chat about life and this city and what makes us tick.
That was what we had done this weekend.
We’d hadn’t merely slept together. We’d been together.
My sister was right. My friends were right. There was something between Kate and me, and it was time to explore it fully.
And it was time I admitted it to Kate, whether or not she was ready for more than an arrangement. Was she? I didn’t know. But maybe her feelings had changed this weekend too.
I grabbed my phone to text her, just as a message from her popped up.
* * *
Kate: I’m slammed tonight. Sorry! I guess I’ll lose this bet. But this weekend was fun! Thanks again.
* * *
I blinked, the hair on my neck standing on end.
Was my phone infected? Had I been hacked? Was this a bug?
Because what the hell?
This sure seemed like a brush-off note.
I stepped away from the field, pacing toward the parking lot, and read her text again, as if I could decipher it differently the second time around.
But on the third and fourth times, it still said the same damn thing.
She was done.
She didn’t want anything more, or even another time.
Only I did.
Part of me wanted to fight. To ask what the hell had happened. But then I remembered what she’d said less than forty-eight hours ago. One weekend, no strings, no promises, nothing more.
She hadn’t lied, never led me astray. She’d been up-front from the get-go.
The weekend was over.
And there were most definitely no strings attached for her.
I might want to give this thing a shot, but she clearly didn’t.
Here was where I had to tread carefully. We had friends in common, work in common, life in common, and the woman had encountered enough jerks in her dating life.
I didn’t need to be the next one.
As I walked back to the field, ready to focus on Carson and the game, I hit reply.
* * *
Jake: You are most welcome.
19
Kate
That night, I set an overabundance of alarms.
My phone. My old clock radio. And Lily.
She was an early bird, so I called to ask for help. “Hi. Any chance you can give me a good old-fashioned wake-up call tomorrow morning, so I don’t miss my meeting with the potential client?”
“Like my parents asked me to do when they were in Hawaii a few weeks ago?”
“They did?” I trudged into my bedroom, making sure I had my outfit for tomorrow’s pitch laid out and ready. But I was missing a belt, so I headed for my bureau.
“Yes, they said the hotel had forgotten their wake-up call for a sunrise boat trip with the dolphins, and they missed that, and they didn’t want to miss their flight home, so t
hey asked me to call them.”
“And you did?”
“Yes, but I also used it as an opportunity to lovingly guide them into the twenty-first century with a reminder that no one uses hotel wake-up calls anymore, since we all have cell phones.”
“Oh,” I said half-heartedly as I found the belt I wanted to wear.
“Hello! Earth to Kate?”
“What?” I looked up from the accessory in the sock drawer.
“Are you listening to me?”
“Yes. Your parents are old, and you think I am too.”
“Kate,” she said softly. “That’s not my point. It’s this—you’re not yourself. Of course I’m happy to give you a wake-up call, though it is the twenty-first century and your phone alert will work. But you’re so listless right now. And that’s so not you. Last time we talked, you were cheery and sassy and heading out to meet Jake. Now you’re like . . . well, you’re like someone who missed a sunrise boat trip with dolphins.”
I forced out a laugh and tried to give myself a pep talk. “I’m good. I swear. I just need to focus on this meeting tomorrow. It’s so important. If I don’t win this client, it might take a few more months to get out of debt. I promise I’ll be more chipper tomorrow.”
We exchanged a few more niceties, then said goodbye. After I hung up, I headed into the bathroom. “Get your act together,” I told my reflection.
Then I started giving myself orders.
Stop thinking about Jake.
Kick unholy ass tomorrow at work.
And don’t get distracted again.
It worked.
I didn’t think of Jake for a whole minute.
When I got into bed, I buried my face in the pillow, stupidly wishing he were next to me.
But what would be the point of that?
He wasn’t into feelings.
He wasn’t into possibilities.
And I wasn’t supposed to be either.
The next day I woke early, before the alarms, and hit the gym. Logging four miles on the treadmill before seven a.m., I felt energized. I was full of endorphins and ready to tackle the pitch.
As I left, I took a long swig from my water bottle and nearly bumped into Nina. Adam followed behind her.
“Hey, you!” she said with a smile.
“Hey,” I said, making my best attempt at an early morning grin.
“How was your weekend?” she asked with a wiggle of her brows.
“Yeah, how was your weekend?” Adam chimed in. “Did Jake finally ask you out? Because he won’t tell me, and I’ve been telling him to do it for months.”
Nina elbowed him with a “Shush.”
I frowned and turned to Adam, curious. “You’ve been telling him to ask me out? Care to elaborate?”
“Yeah. We know he’s into you. We told him to do something about it already.”
Nina snapped her gaze to her fiancé, shaking her head. “Who are you? You can’t just ambush a woman with something like that.”
Adam shrugged. “Just trying to move things along.”
I gave them both my best smile. It wouldn’t serve me to get waylaid by the Jake thought train again. “Thank you, but I’m pretty sure neither Jake nor I need anyone to move things along. We’re both good with where we’re at.”
Nina stared daggers at her fiancé, then turned to me. “Forgive Adam. He hasn’t had coffee yet. Anyway, are you ready for your pitch? You’re going to do great. I’m rooting for you. Girls’ night out marketing for the win,” she said.
“I’m ready,” I said, then glanced at my phone. “And I should go.”
Nina tugged me in for a quick hug, whispering, “Don’t read anything into it.”
“I wasn’t going to. I meant everything I said. Jake and I are on the same page. It’s all good,” I said with my best I’ve got it together smile.
Then I said goodbye, doing my damnedest to believe my own lies.
There were times when you had to set all the foolish emotions in your heart aside and get down to business.
This was one of them.
As Trish and I strode into the conference room she’d booked for the Sin City Escorts pitch, I held my chin high, shoved this weekend into a lockbox, then threw away the key.
Trish introduced me to Daisy DoLittle, a petite redhead with a constellation of freckles across her nose. She didn’t look like a woman who owned an escort company. She looked like she ran a ranch of abandoned hound dogs looking for a second chance.
But looks weren’t everything.
I said hello, then began the presentation, all business as I made the pitch.
I zeroed in on my taglines, I shared how we could use them, and I showcased my plans to make this service a must-have gift for women to give their friends. Daisy kept an impassive face throughout, but her green eyes flickered when I shared the anecdote about the bride and her maid of honor.
“‘You deserve this,’ the bride told her friend,” I recounted. “And that got me to thinking—honestly, don’t we all deserve pleasure? Don’t we all deserve to feel amazing? Don’t we all deserve to explore our fantasies? That’s what Sin City Escorts can do. That’s what role-playing makes possible. We all become adventurers exploring the delicious land of fantasies.”
A grin seemed to tug at Daisy’s lips then, telling me I’d hit the right note.
When I was through, she peppered me with questions, and I answered them all.
“And what do you propose we call this new offering?” She folded her hands, waiting for my final answer.
A reel of this past weekend flickered before my eyes.
Feelings, sensations rushed over me. A tingle raced down my spine, and I recalled how Jake had made me feel.
I’d been reluctant to voice it with Trish yesterday.
And perhaps I’d been reluctant to admit it to myself, but I knew.
“I’d call it the Decadent Gift. Because that’s what it is.”
Daisy’s lips curved into a satisfied grin.
A few minutes later, she declared we’d won the account.
In the back of Trish’s limo, my boss recounted every second of the meeting in a play-by-play recap.
“And when you brought out that name—perfection. This is a most decadent gift.”
“It is,” I said.
I wished I felt half as good as I made the service sound.
But the truth was ugly.
I didn’t feel decadent anymore.
I didn’t feel pleased.
And I definitely wasn’t happy.
All I felt was a crushing wave of relief when Trish issued me my bonus check in advance and I deposited it in the bank, then made the final payment on my debt.
But I wished that I felt something else entirely.
20
Jake
Monday did what Mondays do.
Smack you upside the face with the reminder that it wasn’t Friday, it wasn’t Saturday, and it wasn’t Sunday.
Monday had a particular stench to it, and it deserved it.
When my computer whirred to life that morning, it reminded me of all that I’d avoided that weekend.
Emails.
Contracts.
Clients.
I sighed heavily.
But I was there. I’d shown up. And this stuff . . . this was reliable.
My law practice was dependable.
For a flash of a second, I heard my sister’s warnings about my dad, how hard he’d worked, how he’d given too much of himself to a business that was no stand-in for his family.
But that wasn’t my issue.
I’d taken the weekend off and proved I wasn’t married to work.
And today, I’d simply tackle my to-do list, see my nephew, and finish Educated.
There. I was standing in good stead.
Maybe Monday didn’t have a stench after all. Maybe it was all about perspective.
As I powered through calls and emails, I patted myself on the back for the perspective I’d ga
ined over the weekend and counted myself lucky to return to the faithful old land of contracts.
Because falling for a woman was 100 percent not reliable. In fact, I’d bet women were far worse for your heart than work.
At the basketball court the next evening, I destroyed Adam and Finn.
It was wholly satisfying.
Especially since I was playing one against two.
But not quite as satisfying as the last time I’d crushed them.
Hmm.
That was odd.
But there was no point analyzing why.
As we took off, Adam clapped me on the back. “So, it’s come to my attention that I might have put my foot in my mouth yesterday morning.”
I shot him a curious glance. “So, just a regular day for you?”
But he didn’t laugh. He scrubbed a hand across his jaw. “It’s possible I might have said something to Kate at the gym. About you.”
I stopped walking, setting a hand on the concrete wall at the edge of the court. “What did you say?”
“I asked her if you’d finally found the cojones to ask her out.”
I scoffed. “Why would you do that? Are you a matchmaker now?”
Adam lifted his chin, owning it. “Because, dude. All you’ve done lately is work.”
Finn cleared his throat. “And it’s clear you’re into her. But you get all wrapped up in the job. Don’t you remember what you said to me a few years ago when I went through the same thing?”
“Yes,” I grumbled, my recollection of dragging Finn’s ass away from his desk after midnight crystal clear. “But I’m not as bad as you. I’m not working at two in the morning and living off energy drinks.”
Finn rolled his eyes. “Give it time, my friend. You’re on the road to that. And when I was obsessed with work and miserable as hell, you told me to get my act together.”
“I’m not miserable,” I insisted.
“But you’d be happier if you were with Kate,” Adam said.
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