Hot Number

by Sheridon Smythe

  "Oh.” She gave the tie one last tug before putting her hands on his broad shoulders. She looked up at him, her heart climbing into her throat at the thought of telling him that she loved him. Her lips went dry; she licked them, immediately capturing his interest. “Michael?"

  His hot gaze settled on her mouth, his lids lowering to half-mast, giving him that sexy look that made her knees flat-out weak. The man was sinfully gorgeous!

  "Ashley?” he countered.

  "I, um, I just wanted you to know that I've had a great time on this cruise ... with you."

  He chuckled. “It's certainly been interesting, hasn't it?"

  "I wasn't talking about the adventure part."

  A mocking brow rose in teasing question. “You weren't?"

  "No. I wasn't.” Here goes nothing! “I was referring to us, as a couple. Being together and having fun.” She caught her breath when he snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her against him.

  He was rock hard.

  "Too bad it has to end,” he whispered.

  She responded to the ache in his voice by melting against him. “Does it? Have to end, I mean?” Against her, she felt other parts of his body stiffen until he was one hard wall of muscle and bone. She held her breath, the anticipation driving up her heart rate.

  "Are you saying what I think you're saying? That you might want to continue seeing each other after the cruise?"

  It would be helpful, she thought, if he would open his eyes. What was he really thinking? Did he like the idea? Or was he just being polite? He revealed nothing, either by tone or expression.

  "What—what do you think about the idea?” she asked.

  "Does this mean you finally believe that I'm innocent?” he countered.

  "I'm saying that it doesn't matter, Michael. The past doesn't matter to me anymore.” It was so liberating to say the words out loud, that she wanted to shout and throw her arms around his neck. What she said was true—she didn't care about what he'd done in the past. She was ready to walk with him into the future.

  But she didn't shout. She didn't move at all. Instead, she waited, hardly daring to breath, anxiety coursing through her. This was the moment of truth.

  "So what you're saying is you're ready to forgive and forget and give me another chance."

  Uh, oh. He didn't sound thrilled at all. In fact, unless she was imagining it, he sounded angry ... and disappointed.

  His hands fell abruptly from her waist. He stepped away from her, moving to the full-length mirror hanging on the outside of the bathroom door. For a long moment, she watched him fiddle with his bow tie. She was certain she'd gotten it right, but he was yanking it around and mumbling as if she'd made a mess of it.

  Yes, he was angry. And she didn't know why.

  "Michael?"

  He turned to her, shoving his hands in his pockets. His eyes were mocking as they raked her up and down. He smiled, but this smile didn't weaken her knees or make her mouth go dry.

  This smile held no humor.

  "I'm probably a fool for saying this, but I've got to say it. Without trust, there is no us. You've made it clear that you still don't trust me. I don't think—no. That's not right. I know that I can't live that way. Not again.” He sighed, and just for a moment, Ashley saw the raw longing in his eyes.

  She realized something then. She realized Michael did truly love her. So much that he couldn't bear the thought of going through the pain of breaking up again.

  She knew exactly how he felt. In fact, she thought, taking a deep angry breath into her lungs. He couldn't possibly know how she felt.

  Maybe it was time she told him.

  Her voice shook as she said, “You don't know what I went through in those few seconds, after I opened the door to room 426. The man I loved with every fiber of my being, the man I would have died for, was making love to another woman."

  "I wasn't—"

  She held up her hand, stopping him. She was exposing her heart to him for the first time since she walked in on him that night, and she was going to finish. Afterward, she would let him talk.

  With tears spilling unheeded down her face, she went on. “I never understood the meaning of a broken heart until that night. Until that—that moment. It hurt so badly I knew that I had to do something, before I shattered into a million pieces. So I closed that area of my heart off. I shut it down, and refused to open it back up to more pain."

  "Ash, you—"

  "Please, Michael. Let me finish. Then I'll listen. I promise.” When he clamped his mouth closed, she went on. “I know you were drunk and maybe didn't realize what you were doing. I didn't want to understand then, but I do now. I believe now that if you hadn't been drunk then you wouldn't have done what you did.” She offered him a tremulous smile, looking at him through tear-blurred eyes, standing there so very handsome in his black tux. “So, can we please just forget the past and try again?"

  He hesitated, and then he surprised her by saying, “No."

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  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Maybe she'd heard him wrong.

  Ashley's eyes went wide. She swiped at her face, but the tears just came faster. “Wh—what did you say?” Hadn't she known it was a possibility?

  "No.” This time there was no mistaking his answer. He crossed the room, grabbed her shoulders, and kissed her hard on her open mouth. He was smiling when he drew back.

  She was totally bewildered by his reaction.

  "No,” he said again. “We can't forget the past, Ashley.” Suddenly, he jerked her to his chest, squeezing the breath out of her. His voice was ragged in her ear. “You little fool! If you had any idea how many times I've gone over that night, how many nights I laid awake, trying to put myself in your shoes and visualize what you saw! I couldn't for the life of me figure out how you came to think we were having sex. I mean, I knew it looked bad—of course it looked bad—but to be so stubbornly certain that she and I—that we—” He squeezed her again, growling in her ear. “At this point, I don't know if I should tell you, or just keep my mouth shut and accept your forgiveness. It may be better for you that way,” he added mysteriously.

  Ashley tried to break away from his tight hold, tried to breathe, but couldn't. It seemed Michael was determined not only to squeeze her to death, but to confuse her senseless.

  She didn't have the breath to speak above a squeaky whisper as she said, “Michael? Would you please tell me what the hell you're talking about?” She heard the rumbling in his chest as he chuckled, then groaned, as if he couldn't believe his own thoughts.

  "Darlin', I promise that you don't want to know. If ever there was a need for you to trust me, it would be now. Just let it go."

  "I can't.” She couldn't. Didn't he know that?

  "Please?"

  "No, Michael! Tell me—and for goodness sake, let me go before you kill me!"

  "Sorry, sweetheart."

  She stared into his sheepish face, saw and recognized the light of joy in his eyes. Her bewilderment was complete. “How can you be—be so damned happy about what I told you?"

  "Because, Ash.” He paused to plant a tender kiss on her tear-drenched nose. “I've just realized something momentous. Something bigger and better than winning the lottery."

  "Which, by the way, I know about,” she inserted, trying to glower at him. To her continued surprise, he merely smiled and shook his head, as if he wasn't the least bit concerned about her finding out about something he'd gone to great lengths to hide.

  "Doesn't matter,” he confirmed cheerfully. “Oh, God, Ashley, none of that matters! You see, when you told Kim, who then told me, that you saw that woman sitting on top of me, I was confounded at first. Then I got angry, believing you had embellished the scene to make your excuse to divorce me more plausible."

  Ashley opened her mouth to protest. Michael picked her up and swung her around, startling her into silence.

  "I thought you wanted out."

  "Michael,” she
warned, burning with curiosity and confusion. “If you don't tell—” She landed harmless blows on his chest until he put her down again.

  But he didn't let go. In fact, he held her like he would never let her go. More mystery. More confusion.

  Finally, he inched his head back until he could look at her. “Ashley, you're not going to handle this very well, sweetheart."

  She stubbornly remained silent. Begging him to tell her hadn't worked, so maybe not asking, would.

  "I wasn't in room 426."

  Her mouth went bone dry. Her heart stuttered, and then lurched into a drunken rhythm. “You weren't in room—"

  "No, I wasn't.” He shook his head for emphasis, grinning into her stunned face. “Phil was."

  "Phil was.” Phil was Michael's best friend since high school. They'd gone to the same college, as well.

  "Yes, Phil was. I was in room 427, and I was in bed with a woman, but I only discovered this fact moments before someone opened the door, gasped, and then fled. Apparently it was the maid, not you. When I found out that you had left me and why, I figured you had walked in at the exact same moment I awakened to find a strange woman examining my, um, genitals. Phil, on the other hand, bragged later about having a wild time with a woman he'd met in the bar. She was from Texas, and he'd nick-named her Calamity Jane because she had rode him like a—Ashley? Are you okay, darlin'?"

  She wasn't okay. In fact, she was fairly certain that she was about to faint.

  And then she did.

  * * * *

  "Foolish, foolish woman,” Michael whispered tenderly as he carried Ashley to the bed. He laid her down, and then sat beside her on the bed, waiting for her to come around.

  Within seconds, her lashes fluttered. She opened her eyes, and immediately covered them with her hands. “Oh, God, Michael! How can you ever forgive me?"

  She was crying, silent sobs that made Michael want to cry with her. “Don't, baby. Don't waste even more time beating yourself up over something you had no control over. How could you possibly have known that at the last moment Phil had traded rooms with me? I didn't even realize it until I got my credit card statement in the mail. I should have realized then, and I might have if it hadn't been for the maid—"

  "The maid?” She peeped at him through her fingers, her face still flushed a rosy red.

  "I know it was the maid now, and at the time I assumed it was the maid, but when I came home and realized you'd left me, I figured it was you that had come in just as that woman was looking at—well, never mind. All that matters now is that we've realized our mistakes."

  "It wasn't your mistake, Michael!” Her voice was so thick with self-loathing that Michael visibly winced. “It was my stupid mistake! I didn't even wait long enough to make sure it was you beneath that—that Texas trash!"

  He couldn't resist a chuckle at her description of Phil's Calamity Jane. “Well, we've both been stupid and blind and pig-headed."

  Slowly, she pulled her fingers away, revealing damp eyelashes and violet eyes that made his heart triple beat. “Why—why did Phil change rooms with you?"

  "I had booked the honeymoon suite—still hoping you'd change your mind and join me. When it got late and Phil realized you weren't coming, he traded keys with me. He had a date to impress. I was so drunk when I got to my room, I didn't even notice. I just glanced at the number on my room key and stumbled to that door. After I got home and found you'd left me, it was the last thing on my mind."

  "Oh, God, Michael!” She rose up, grabbed his cheeks between her shaking hands, and began raining kisses all over his face. “I'm so sorry, so very, very sorry! How can you ever forgive me?"

  Choking up, Michael gathered her against him, holding her tight. They sat that way for long, blissful moments before he gently pulled her back.

  He stared into her beautiful, tear-drenched eyes as he said solemnly, “Maybe if you do that thing with the soap again, it would help me forget.” He burst out laughing at her stunned expression. “Hey, I'm kidding, sweetheart. Just kidding.” He kissed her then, long and leisurely.

  When they finally drew apart, he whispered, “I love you."

  She whispered back, “I love you, too, although I don't know how you can—"

  He kissed her silent.

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  A word about the author...

  Sheridon lives in Beebe, Arkansas, surrounded by family and friends, three dogs, and a horse named Dusty. When she isn't writing, she enjoys reading, playing with her grandkids, horseback riding, quilting, and brainstorming her next story.

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