by Jane Tara
“Yes. I’m way out of my comfort zone.”
“I find that’s the best place to start.” Harry smiled. “So I know that you’re thirty-six, Libran, with two young kids and an interest in sports and an unquenchable thirst for reading.”
“You memorized my profile.”
“It wasn’t that long.”
“Well, it sums me up.”
“Oh, I highly doubt that. Even the most average people can’t be summed up in one sentence.” He watched her across the table. “Tell me about this unquenchable thirst.”
Sadie shuffled in her seat. Unquenchable thirst? Where the hell were the drinks? “It was probably a daft way to describe how I feel. To be honest, I’ve only become an avid reader in the past couple of years. Since having kids and especially since my divorce.”
“Books are great company.”
“So I’ve discovered.” Certainly better company than her ex, Craig, who wasn’t the brightest bulb in the box. Unfortunately he was a good-looking one, and it had taken Sadie seven years to recognize that beneath the drop-dead gorgeous exterior lay … well, not much.
The drinks arrived and they paused to order their meal. Then they smiled across the table at each other, clinked their first drinks, and tossed them back. Sadie felt the vodka hit her immediately. She picked up her second drink and sipped it slowly through a straw.
“Your profile said you’re an archaeologist.” It was that that had caught Sadie’s eye, not his out-of-date photo. She’d also missed all the other details on the profile. She’d just read archaeologist and knew she wanted to meet him.
“I’m a rescue archaeologist for the British Museum.”
“What does that mean?”
“Let’s say a developer goes into an area and starts tearing it up and comes across a find. They don’t want to waste time and money allowing the place to be excavated. So people like me fly in and we do our best to save, move, and preserve the archaeological site or monument.”
Sadie was genuinely impressed. “You’re like a superhero for artifacts.”
“I even have a cape and tights,” Harry grinned.
Sadie ran her eyes over his chest. He was a big man, that’s for sure. Pity about the lazy eye. It wasn’t too noticeable. Most people wouldn’t be aware of it at all. But Sadie could pick everything from a scurfy scalp to a stray nasal hair a mile away. She didn’t mean to notice people’s faults. They just jumped out at her.
She sipped her vodka. “So your profile said you’re divorced with kids?”
“Two sons and a daughter, all adults now.”
“Why did you get divorced?”
“We’d outgrown each other. It takes some courage to admit it and fortunately my ex-wife is a courageous woman. We’ve remained friends.”
“Do you see her often?”
“We have dinner when she’s in London. She’s French and lives in Paris now. She’s a lecturer at the Sorbonne.”
Sadie suddenly felt embarrassed by her “I’m an avid reader” speech. Harry seemed to sense that and changed the subject.
“How about you, Sadie? What do you do?”
The second vodka was hitting the spot and she motioned for the waiter to bring some more. “What do I do? Not much, Harry.” Sadie laughed, but there was a bitter thread beneath it. “I met my ex, Craig, when I was twenty. I was a fitness instructor at the gym he owned. I helped him build up his business. We opened a second, and then a third. By the time we divorced he had eight gyms all over London. Have you heard of Munn’s Gyms?”
Harry looked apologetic. “I’m not much of a gym person, sorry, Sadie.”
“No need to apologize. Turns out nor am I.” Sadie leaned forward on the table. “Around the time I had the kids, it finally occurred to me that I was bored out of my brain. I was still doing the books. I dealt with the accountants. Craig was more the frontman, I ran the back end. I stopped going to the gym, as you can probably tell.”
“No, I can’t. I think you’re stunning.”
Sadie was taken aback. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had been so straightforward about her attractiveness. The fact that she’d stopped working out had been a huge bone of contention between her and Craig.
Sadie looked around the room, unsure what she was trying to say. Then, because she felt she had nothing to lose with this man, she said, “I agreed to come out tonight because your profile sounded interesting. And quite frankly, my life has been rather dull for some time.”
“Then give me a chance to interest you.”
“I thought I was.”
“You’ve had one eye on the door since you arrived. How about you slip your shoes off and relax. It’s one night out of your life. Take this night and see if I interest you.”
Sadie stared at him. He was already interesting. He just wasn’t attractive. That wasn’t true either. He was striking, and certainly had a powerful build. She felt like she was dining with a Viking. But she’d be lying if she said he was her type.
Although her type was up for review.
Sadie had been so bowled over by Craig’s looks that she hadn’t noticed he lacked substance. Since the divorce, she’d only slept with one man. He was younger than her, and prettier, which they both silently acknowledged when they woke up together. It’s why she’d changed the age range on her VIP online dating profile. She couldn’t bear the humiliation again—or the thought of another evening of mundane conversation that eventually led to less than average sex. She hadn’t even had an orgasm.
Sadie smiled at Harry and slipped her shoes off.
“Great. Now … let’s get to know each other.”
And they did. They talked over their meal, and a few more vodkas. Then they went to a nearby bar and kept drinking. He held open doors, guided her across roads, pulled out chairs. He paid for dinner, and paid her compliments.
And best of all, he was interested in what she had to say.
“I’ve been looking after my friend’s bookshop for the past few days while she’s dealing with some personal stuff.”
“Are you enjoying it?”
“I love it.” Sadie’s eyes lit up. “It’s called the Happy Endings bookshop.”
“I know it. In Muswell Hill. Lovely little shop.” He smiled at her. “Are you after a happy ending?”
Sadie was embarrassed. “Aren’t we all? But what does it mean, anyway? I’d rather have a happy beginning and work up from there.”
“True. Not much point of a happy ending. What do you think being happy means?”
Christ, when was the last time a man had asked her opinion on anything? “I think people waste a lot of time thinking, if I had that person, that job, that house, that body … then I’d be happy. I think it’s about a shift in perspective. It’s seeing things clearly.”
“Do you see things clearly?”
“Not always. I’ve spent most of my life being bloody superficial.”
They stared at each other for a moment and she had a sudden and surprising surge of attraction toward him. He knew it too. He reached out and took her hand, and then continued talking. It felt like the most natural thing in the world.
They talked about books, and films and politics. He shared funny stories from the field about finding mummified remains and ancient civilizations. Harry had traveled far and wide, and listened to her dreams of how she wanted to. And as each hour passed, with each drink consumed, he became more and more attractive.
Until he led her into a taxi and home to her new sheets.
“You are one fucking gorgeous creature,” Harry growled as he peeled off her clothes the minute they got in the front door.
She could get used to these compliments.
Before she knew it, she was standing in nothing but her underwear in the hallway.
Harry pushed her against the wall and kissed her. Christ, he could kiss. He was good at it too.
“You taste delicious.” One hand skillfully undid her bra at the back while the other grabbed hold of h
er breast and lifted it to his lips. He ran his tongue over her nipple. She wrapped her arms around him. He was so big, so fucking masculine.
Her hand ran across his jeans and she felt something straining to get out.
“Let me touch you,” she groaned.
“Not yet.” His hand slipped into her underwear and then deftly parted her lips. And then one finger, just one finger, slowly rubbed—barely touching, it was so gentle.
“Feel how wet you are, Sadie?”
“Yes.”
“That means you want me.”
“I do.”
Sadie was still standing, pressed against the wall, but it was only his free arm holding her upright. Her legs were weak beneath her. She felt like she was dissolving.
He parted her legs and kneeled before her. His hands wrapped around her waist while his mouth ran a trail across her stomach … and down … inside her thigh … until his tongue gently rested on her, and then as she began to quiver beneath it, he began to lick.
“Oh god, Harry.”
And lick.
“Oh god.”
And lick. His hands grabbed her arse, clutching her cheeks, and lifting her up so he could lick and lick until she screamed and grabbed hold of his hair.
“Oh my … ohhhhh …”
And just as she came, he thrust his tongue deep inside her, as she pulsated around it.
He lifted her into his arms as her legs melted beneath her. “Where’s your bedroom?”
“End of the hall,” she purred.
He strode into her room, tossed her on the bed and tore his own clothes off. Sadie’s eyes widened when she saw his cock.
He moved on top of her, eyes locked. ‘I’ve wanted to be inside you from the moment you walked into that restaurant.”
And with that he was.
And it was so fucking good. He devoured her, mentally, physically. And she wanted him, how she wanted him. She wanted to fuck his mind, his soul … not to mention that massive cock.
The third time she came, she cried. He was, bar none, the most amazing lover she’d ever had.
Which goes to show what a weird sense of humor God has, because she simply wasn’t attracted to him. She wasn’t.
Oh god, why did she sleep with him? Yes, she’d been horny. She hadn’t been laid for ages. She certainly hadn’t expected to get laid last night, though, especially once she laid eyes on him. But it was Christmas Eve. She still wasn’t used to spending Christmas Eve alone while the kids were with Craig. And the cocktails had made him more attractive.
Drink till he’s cute. That had been her motto last night.
Because there was no way she was actually attracted to him.
She glanced at the clock: 9:10 am. She needed to get moving. Craig would be dropping the kids back at ten. Having her one-night stand greet the kids at the door on Christmas morning would never win her mother of the year. But more importantly (which once again illustrated what a dreadful mother she was), she didn’t want Craig to see him.
Craig, who’d been the most stunning man Sadie had ever met.
Craig, who still turned heads everywhere he went.
Craig … who only ever dated women who looked like they’d just stepped out of a magazine.
Yes, she’d had her moment of glory herself, but that moment was over the instant she tore her perineum during childbirth. Craig had never again looked at her the same way. From that moment on, she was flawed. She simply couldn’t let Craig see that she’d shagged someone like Harry. It was embarrassing. He had to go.
She tapped his shoulder. “Ah … ’scuse me … morning.”
“Hmphrumpole …”
How charming … he could speak in tongues. And then Sadie remembered she already knew that factoid. He was quite a cunning linguist.
There was that molten heat again.
She pushed him a bit harder. “Hey … wake up.”
He stirred.
Finally one lazy eye opened after another … well, one opened … the lazy one just lolled there. Last night Sadie had found it quirky, but in the harsh light of day it was downright disturbing.
“Morning,” he grinned.
“You have to go,” she said.
He reached for her, but she dodged his embrace and slipped out of bed. “My ex is dropping the kids home.”
“Would you like me to meet them now?” he asked.
Now? As opposed to … never, thought Sadie. “Some other time.” June 2087.
“Sure, no hurry.”
He stretched and then lumbered out of bed. He was enormous. Beside him Sadie felt tiny. She forgot about the extra weight that had been bothering her for months. She felt like a little twig of a thing. And she liked that.
He stepped into his boxer shorts as she watched. He wasn’t fat at all. Maybe an extra pound or two, but most of his body was solid. She imagined he’d been quite a looker when he was younger, and then silently berated herself. She had been too. But his arms were big, and his chest endless, in a rugged, cave man kind of way.
He noticed her watching and smiled. “I had fun last night, Sadie.”
She blushed. “Yes … it was lovely to meet you and hear all about your work.” What a ridiculous thing to say in her underwear. Next she’d be asking if they could be penpals.
But she did enjoy hearing about his work. She enjoyed every word he uttered. Suddenly she felt so out of her depth. She was awash with feelings she didn’t understand and didn’t like. She felt completely vulnerable. She wanted him to leave.
He seemed to sense her confusion, and before she could stop him, he drew her into his arms for a hug. She froze.
“Merry Christmas.”
“Yes, you too.” Okay, let me go now.
He held her tight. She responded like limp lettuce.
He didn’t let go. She sensed he was like that about a lot of things.
And then, against her better judgement, she began to relax. She hugged him back. So he wasn’t Hugh Jackman, but he was a nice guy. Perhaps they could be friends. She knew he was alone for Christmas. He told her that he saw his family on Boxing Day. She wrapped her arms as far around his big frame as she could, and held him tight. How good it felt. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had held her like he cared. She breathed in his scent. It was strong and yet familiar. It stirred something deep inside her. His embrace did something that she thought impossible—it made everything okay.
She pulled away, her mind a jumble of conflicting thoughts. They stared at each other. There was a moment of pure heat between them and she suddenly needed him inside her. Needed him, like she’d never needed anyone before. And then … the doorbell rang. She could hear laughter, and her daughter calling out, “Merry Christmas, Mummy.”
“Oh shit, my kids. They’re early.”
Sadie grabbed her jeans and shimmied into them. “Oh shit, no, this is not good.”
“It’s okay, don’t freak out. I’m a friend who dropped by for Christmas breakfast. All good.”
She paused, looked at him. He was calm. He was right. “Good idea.”
Sadie threw on her shirt, tied her hair back in an elastic band, and raced out of her room and toward the front door. “Bugger, bugger, bum.” She raced back and found Harry, now fully dressed. “Wait in the lounge,” she told him, “it’s just down the hall.” Then she raced for the front door again.
And then she opened it, and standing there were her reasons for breathing. Stella, six, Max, five … faces alight with Christmas excitement. She threw her arms around them.
“Merry Christmas, my munchkins.”
“Look, we got iPads!” squealed Stella.
Sadie pasted a fake smile on her face. More inappropriate gifts from their dad. “That’s great. How about you run inside and look under the tree? And I’ve got a friend in there who’s having breakfast with us, so don’t get a fright.”
The kids disappeared and Sadie looked at Craig.
“A friend?” he said, a sneer on his face. “W
hat sort of friend, Sadie?”
She said nothing. He’d lost the right to an explanation the moment he shagged Michelle from the gym.
“Merry Christmas, Craig.” And with that she closed the door on him. Yes, she’d had the last word. Damn that felt good. She put her eye to the peephole. He was still standing there, one finger raised at her. Bugger, he knew her too well.
She could hear the kids talking in the lounge room. And then a deeper voice, followed by the three of them laughing. She quickly made her way toward them and then paused at the door.
“Are you sure you’re not Santa? You look like him.”
“No, I’m not Santa.”
“But you have the same beard,” said Stella.
“And kind eyes,” said Max.
Sadie almost fell over. Kind eyes? What a bizarre thing for him to say.
“I really, really, really think you’re Santa,” said Max.
“I hope you are,” Stella giggled.
“Hmmm … well, I’m not. But I do know Santa.”
“YOU DO?”
“Yes, he’s my second cousin, on my father’s side. That’s why there’s the resemblance.”
“I knew it!” Max said.
“You’re a very cluey kid.”
“What’s Santa like?”
“He’s nice. I occasionally see him at family get-togethers. But he’s very busy, especially leading up to Easter.”
Max and Stella thought that was hilarious. “Not Easter! Christmas.”
Yeti-man slapped his forehead. “You’re right, I meant Christmas.”
Sadie entered the room. “So you’ve met my friend Hagrid.”
“Er … Harry.”
“I mean Harry.” Shit, shit.
“Mummy, Harry is Santa’s cousin.”
“I know. I heard.” Sadie smiled.
Harry stood, dwarfing the Christmas tree. “Anyway, I’d better be off and let you guys open your presents.” He gave the kids a wink. “Let me know if you’re not happy with them and I’ll email my cousin.”
“You said he was here for breakfast,” Stella whined.
Sadie looked at him. Max was right. He had such kind eyes. “Why don’t you stay for breakfast?”
Harry smiled. “Are you sure?”
Sadie almost fell over as Stella slipped her hand into Harry’s. “Please stay for breakfast.”