Just for the Night

by Tawny Weber

  “See! You can’t even say it.”

  “Oh, bull,” she shot back in her normal tone. “I love sex.”

  At least, she loved the memory of sex. It’d been a while since she’d loved it firsthand. Not for lack of interest or out of any sexual prejudice. But a girl got busy, focusing on her career, and there just wasn’t much time left over for the frills.

  “When was the last time you got any?” Chloe challenged.

  Larissa opened her mouth to shoot back a snappy retort, then clamped her lips together. Answering would only prove Chloe’s point. Instead, she said, “When was the last time you had any that was good enough to be in a romance novel?”

  Larissa didn’t need an answer. She knew she’d won. Heck, she regularly listened to Chloe’s complaints about lousy sex. Heck, she’d used it in at least a half dozen of her romance columns.

  Of course, that’s not all she talked about. After all, she’d had plenty of personal experience with mind-blowing, life-altering, headboard-banging sex. Her very own romance novel sex. But that’d been a lot of years ago and she’d learned the hard way that there had to be more. Trust, companionship, common goals. Those things might not make her scream in ecstasy, but they sure went a lot further to making the romance long term than a triple chocolate-dipped orgasm.

  “Look, I’m just saying you have to consider a wider clientele than just you,” Chloe said, giving Larissa’s shoulder a quick squeeze. “Just because you’ve chosen to bury your sexual needs beneath eight layers of romantic fluff doesn’t mean everyone will. Isn’t the purpose of this business to succeed?”

  “Of course I plan to succeed,” Larissa said, ignoring both Chloe’s point and the panic clutching at her own belly. “I know what I’m doing.”

  “I do, too. You’re ignoring an automatic tie-in with your store’s theme because you’ve got issues with sex.”

  Finished avoiding the topic, Larissa dropped onto the rocking chair, folded her arms over her chest and got her pout on.

  “I don’t have issues.”

  “How would you know? It’s been so long since you had any, you can’t even test that theory out.”

  Larissa’s pout deepened. She dug her chin into her chest and stared at the perfection of her French pedicure. “Maybe I don’t have a sex drive.”

  Chloe’s snort bounced off the walls. “Right.”

  “Maybe we all peak at different times,” she defended before her friend could explain the reasons behind her snort. Some things were better left unsaid. “Maybe I hit my peak and now I just have to accept that my sex drive is on the way down.”

  Chloe sighed, then uncurled her long body from the round chair and crossed the room to give Larissa a hug. She kneeled and offered a long, serious look at odds with her wild appearance.

  “Or maybe you’re giving Jason Cantrell too much credit. It’s not like he has a magic dick, Larissa. It wasn’t coated with orgasm glitter or anything.”

  Larissa wrinkled her nose. Not at the crude expression. She was so used to Chloe’s vernacular, she barely noticed. Nope, her wince was over the mention of Jason’s name.

  “If you were a nurse, you’d be the kind who grinned over giving people shots in the ass, wouldn’t you?” Larissa said with a narrowed look.

  “Why?” Chloe challenged, her lips twitching at the accusation. “Because hearing Jason’s name hurts you somehow?”

  “I’m not hurting.”

  Chloe waited.

  Larissa closed her eyes for a moment.

  Sure, she might not trust men anymore. She might lie awake at night, wondering if she’d ever have the perfect storybook romance like those she read about. And maybe she was a little wary of being called out as a fraud for not having any real romance in her personal life. But that wasn’t hurt.

  It was more like a cute pink bandage over the top of a big ugly scab hiding a three-year-old boo-boo.

  She winced. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t completely over him. But she mostly was, and that’s what counted.

  “Maybe I’m a little cautious,” she finally acknowledged. “But that only applies to my personal life. Not to my business.”

  “But you’re letting your hurt and bad feelings over your breakup with Jason color your business choices, aren’t you?”

  Larissa pressed her lips together, wanting to deny it. But she was a lousy liar.

  “Sometimes I feel like a fraud,” Larissa confessed. “Who am I to claim to be an authority on romance when my one and only relationship failed.”

  “If you could do it over again, would you have done anything different?” Chloe asked. “Kicked him where it would hurt, maybe? Or defended yourself when he accused you of cheating?”

  “Why should I have to defend myself?” she replied. “He should have trusted me. Without trust, there is no relationship.”

  “Hey, I’m not defending the guy,” Chloe denied. “He broke your heart, he deserves to die. I’m just saying that maybe it’s time to let it go.”

  Larissa stared down at her tangled fingers, remembering the short—less than a week, short—time a diamond had sparkled there. A part of her had known when Jason had given her the ring that their engagement wouldn’t last. There were just too many differences between them. But she’d hoped. Oh, how she’d hoped.

  Chloe, obviously realizing she’d made her point—and was in danger of delving into tequila-healing territory when Larissa couldn’t afford to do the presentation with a hang-over—changed the subject.

  “All I’m saying is that if there is a way to guarantee your store has a better chance of surviving the first year, you should do it. And widening your focus just a bit would increase those odds,” Chloe persuaded.

  “No.” She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin. She’d had this dream for too long. “I’m not going to ruin my dream with a compromise I’ll hate.”

  “Bending, just a little, doesn’t mean you’re caving,” Chloe said quietly. “Remember, Mr. Murphy offered to let you buy his store when he retires next month. If you’re not willing to change your concept, maybe you should consider a lower rent venue. Because once you make this choice, there’s no going back.”

  The safety of that was so appealing. Larissa loved the old Victorian that housed Mr. Murphy’s bookstore. She’d nursed her love of romances there, built her skills as a communicator and a salesperson. She was safe there…as long as she did things his way, kept with the same old program. But if she changed things? Would people come? Would she lose the bulk of the tried and true customers who had expectations that she couldn’t meet anymore because she was pursuing her own hopes and dreams?

  Larissa looked at the mess she’d made of boxes, books and all of the accoutrements she deemed necessary for romance. Even though this time she was risking her career and her finances, it was still as difficult as it had been with her heart. But this time, she knew what she was doing. She wasn’t falling in love without a clue, she was prepared.

  “I can do this,” she said decisively. And she’d consider the sex stuff, too. Maybe this was her chance. Time to change her business, and her personal life. She was through hiding behind the past, waiting for Prince Charming. She was putting “get a sex life” on her agenda, dammit. Right after she dealt with her career, of course.

  Determined, she stood and put the lid on her box of merchandise. She was as ready as she was going to get. “But I need to decide what to wear. Want to help me pick out the perfect snooty outfit?”

  Chloe rose, studying her carefully. Then she gave a slow nod. “Sure. I specialize in snoot.”

  See, Larissa thought as they headed for her bedroom and its overcrowded closet. She’d prove, to Chloe and to herself, that she didn’t need a magic dick to make her dreams come true.

  2

  JASON CANTRELL HANDLED HIS BMW like he was on a racetrack. Fast, tight and controlled. He hit the freeway off-ramp doing eighty, Aerosmith’s rhythm beating through the speakers like a war drum.

  He sp
ared a glance at the clock on the dash.

  Late.

  He gave a mental shrug. No point wasting energy on what he couldn’t change.

  His plane had been delayed, then he’d got caught up in customs where he’d had to explain the three-foot penis he’d brought back from the Papua New Guinea. Well, maybe not so much explain, since the kotekas, or penis-sheathes, were pretty self-explanatory. Still, his was special.

  Aerosmith’s walking instructions were interrupted when the Bluetooth in Jason’s dash pounded out its own beat. He flicked a button on the steering wheel.

  “Yo,” he answered.

  “Yo, yourself. How’d the meeting go?”

  A quick glance noted there was no traffic. With a flick of his wrist Jason took a corner at twice the speed limit.

  “I’m on my way, big brother,” he said. “I called Daniel when I landed and told him I’d be late. He’s missing this meet but said he’d pass the message on to the committee. Don’t worry, the pitch practically sells itself. We’ve got it in the bag.”

  “I’m not worried about the pitch,” Peter said. “You could sell snow to a polar bear. I’m just… Well… You know.”

  Ever the wordsmith, that was Peter Cantrell. Jason gave a rueful shake of his head.

  “I know. It’s going to work out. Quit stressing, okay.”

  It, being their business. A business the two brothers had started at twenty-two and twenty, respectively. They’d grown up traveling with their archaeologist parents and were on their second passport before they’d hit puberty. At first, the brothers had led a few buddies on trips as a way to make beer money in college. Mountain climbing, rafting, hiking. Soon they’d developed a rep for creating awesome adventures. They had inside knowledge of places they’d already visited and they made it a point to turn each trip into a special event. That beer money had quickly turned to seed money. They were doing so well that by the time Peter graduated, Jason had dropped out to take on Can-Do Adventures full-time.

  But now they needed to make some changes. Because he wanted to settle down with his fiancée and play happy hubby, Peter had decided to take a step back from the regular trips. Only neither brother wanted to hire help. They couldn’t control the quality of a trip halfway around the world unless one of them was leading it. Which meant cutting their income in half…unless they found a way to advertise to a higher-paying group of adventurers and woo in some bigger groups.

  Hence, Cartright Hotels. If they snagged this store, they could easily tap into the promotional benefits of the hotel conglomerate, entice the wealthy clientele and support both brothers on the same number of trips led just by Jason. Cartright was offering a primo deal, advertising their newest businesses in their press packets for the first year. They were doing ads in airline and travel magazines, linking their loyalty points to the use of their own vendors—of which Can-Do would be one, if Jason played his cards right—and launching a huge media blitz.

  In return, the Cantrells would add specialized/couple adventures, exclusive to Cartright guests, to their repertoire. Adventure honeymoons and wild getaways. All at vastly discounted rates, if booked while staying at one of Cartright’s resorts.

  An all-round win-win deal, if he did say so himself.

  “You sure you want to do this?” Peter asked. “I mean, if they don’t go for it, we can still salvage the business. I’ll kick in part of my income to keep things afloat, and continue to handle the bookings after you find another partner.”

  Peter had just lined up a job with a local sports store, selling equipment, teaching rock climbing, basically catering to the weekend warriors. Jason knew his brother hated the idea, but he needed the income. It was yet another reason to make this deal with Cartwright work—Peter could man the store instead of selling tennis shoes and ski equipment. It really sucked that his brother had been talked into becoming more “steady.”

  “I don’t want another partner,” Jason dismissed. He didn’t dismiss the offer to supplement Can-Do’s income, though. He knew damned well that between the business and family expenses, he couldn’t carry it all on his own.

  A few years back, their mother had a stroke that had not only physically debilitated her, but had also destroyed her marriage. Because neither brother was able to take care of her themselves, Jason and Peter had been forced to choose between the depressing rehab center her insurance would cover, or ponying up to put her in a nice, cheerful housing program.

  Ever their father’s son, Peter’s first suggestion when he’d said he needed to step down at Can-Do was to move their mother to the less-expensive assisted living unit. That’d been one of the few times Jason had blown up at his brother.

  So now it was up to him to make sure everything worked out.

  “We’ll make it happen,” he vowed. “I know I can pull this off.”

  “Well, you’d never find a partner as good as me, so I don’t blame you,” Peter joked. His tone was still stressed, though. Like he wasn’t sure if he should push his brother to go it alone or take him at his word.

  “You’re hard to beat,” Jason agreed. “Of course, I’m still the best.”

  “You wish.” Peter laughed, sounding relieved. “Are you sure you don’t want me to meet you, help with the pitch?”

  “Nah, I’ve got it. Between the pitch and showing them the koteka as an example of the kinds of things we’d display, I’m sure it’s in the bag. Besides…you’ve got enough to do. I’ll come by in the morning and let you know how it goes,” he promised. “You get the coffee ready and I’ll bring my penis.”

  “Mine’s still bigger,” Peter promised.

  Jason’s smile slipped as the phone turned off and Aerosmith’s “Sweet Emotion” filled his ears. The endless competition was just one more thing he was going to miss if Peter didn’t come to his senses before the dreaded I Do-Day.

  And the chances of that were looking sadly slim. Not that Jason had anything against Meghan, the sweet little thing his brother was marrying. But they already lived together. Peter was getting all the goodies—why sign on for the long haul? Especially when that haul meant ruining Can-Do Adventures.

  Jason was going to have to run the business alone if this little brainstorm didn’t play out the way he wanted. Because he’d be damned if he’d take on a new partner. He liked doing things his way, on his own terms. Besides, he knew damned well that relationships didn’t last. So it was his job as a good brother to keep things going so Peter had something to do when the Meghan deal went belly-up.

  Ready to pitch and win, Jason pulled into the almost-empty parking lot, tires squealing. He parked next to a little red Mini S convertible, bounded from his car and strode toward the building.

  A quick glance told him the location was prime. The almost completed hotel to the right, the city’s business district three blocks past the park on the left. The place would pull in travelers and upscale shoppers alike. And all of them were potential customers for a Can-Do Adventure. More importantly, Peter could manage the store until he came to his senses and got back to living life to the fullest.

  And in the meantime? They needed to make enough money to keep Can-Do afloat and cover their mother’s expenses. Which meant not only cutting their tours in half without Peter, but slashing their promotion budget.

  And that was where Cartright Hotels came in. It wasn’t the location alone that had Jason excited. It was the promotion package offered to the vendors. Co-op, inclusion in Cartright’s worldwide advertising, massively discounted television ads. One year here would set Can-Do up for the decade. It was plenty of time for Peter to get his head together.

  All Jason had to do was snag that last store space.

  No problem. Daniel Cartwright was a good friend. He and Peter had been frat buddies. The Cantrells had lived up the street—on the poorer side—from the Cartrights growing up, too. They hadn’t actually run in the same circles, but Dan was a good guy even if his younger brother, Conner, was a jerk. No matter who else he had on the
hook for the storefront, Jason was sure Can-Do was the frontrunner.

  And just in case? He gripped the padded crate under his arm and grinned. Daniel said the hotel, and its adjoining boutique mall, were an ode to coupledom. Not something Jason had much experience with since his one attempt had been a huge bust. But he figured the one thing couples all wanted was a good sex life, so he’d brought his secret weapon. The koteka was supposed to be magic. The promise was that it’d bring blessings and hot sex to the wearer. Jason figured that if the Powers That Be weren’t bowled over with his pitch, he could offer the koteka as an incentive. After all, what guy could resist the promise of hot sex?

  That, his charm and the brilliance of his idea were all he’d need to snag this space and settle his life back on the track he wanted. Can-Do Adventures would survive. Neither storms nor mechanical failures nor a commitment-seeking woman would stop the brothers from their appointed purpose. Which was to see as much, do as much and discover as much of the world as possible.

  In other words, to live. Free and easy. The only way to be.

  “THIS IS STUNNING,” Larissa said breathlessly, laying her hand on Conner’s arm. She stared, wide-eyed, taking in the glorious view. Lush plants decorated the long, posh concourse of the mall. The floors were glossy marble. The walls were papered in rich silk. The windows glinted like diamonds and the entire space shouted exclusivity.

  And her store would be here. It was like fantasizing about being swept away by a pirate, then finding herself on a deserted island with Johnny Depp. A dream come true, multiplied by a hundred.

  “La Perla, Armani, Godiva,” she murmured, shivering in delight as she read the gilt signs already above some of the stores. She squinted, imagining Isn’t It Romantic tucked up there between such stellar names, and grinned.

  The place was small by mall standards, only eighty thousand square feet, but it didn’t feel that way. The wide concourse with its lush greenery and center benches gave the feel of an outdoor garden. Only five stores on either side lined the concourse, with two discreet hallways angling off to the restrooms and the employee maintenance area.