by Sara Daniel
Marcia stared at him. The cautious business student who’d longed for a traditional, lazy suburban family life owned the most vulnerable vehicle on the road, jumped out of perfectly good airplanes, and dragged his sculpted ass to the gym every morning. She might be legally married to him, but the man sitting next to her was not her husband.
“What do you do for fun?” he asked.
Nothing she could spin as even marginally interesting. “I…uh—I work.”
“What do you do when you’re not working?”
Collapse on her bed, sometimes before she had a chance to change out of her business suit. Maybe pull out one of those vibrators and see if the batteries still had any juice. “I don’t go to the gym. You saw my safe, boring car. I don’t have any hobbies. I’ve been so focused on an upcoming job promotion I haven’t thought about anything else.”
“You don’t have a life outside of this office?”
“No, and I don’t plan to get one.” Marcia stood and dumped her plate in the trash. Of course, she’d disappointed him. She’d walked out on their marriage. Dreaming they could pick up where they’d left off would only lead to more heartache.
***
“Marcia, I’m so glad to hear from you. How are you holding up?” Sabrina asked.
“I’m surviving. I’m still at the office right now.” While the others polished off the pizza, she paced to the window overlooking the city.
“I expected nothing less,” Sabrina teased.
“Yeah, well, this time I’m not working alone. My PR group is bouncing around ideas to improve Sunburst’s image, and their favorite plan involves channeling some star power. I know how you feel about people using Rob, so you can say no and it won’t change anything between us. But I’d like to run our idea by you.”
Her friend agreed to hear it, so she explained. The expectations of the room weighed on her, but, even more, she longed for a deep relationship like Sabrina’s where she knew someone so well she could speak on his behalf.
“We’re coming into town to see Blake and Luciana’s new baby tomorrow, and of course we’re planning to stay at Sunburst,” the other woman said. “I don’t see why we can’t do a staged check-in. I’d rather have our entrance officially recorded than snapped by some sleazeball jumping out of a ficus tree.”
“No sleazeballs in ficus trees. I can accommodate that request.” Marcia gave the marketing group a thumbs up. Adrian’s approving nod squeezed her heart.
“The only thing I can’t commit on is timing,” Sabrina warned. “Rob’s trying to wrap up a shoot before we leave, and it’s not going as well as he’d hoped.”
“We’ll work around your schedule. Whatever time you arrive, we’ll be ready. Thank you.”
“Marcia, are you sure everything’s okay? I listened to that apology on TV, and it sounded way too personal for just a business screwup.”
She glanced at Adrian again, and the squeeze around her heart turned to pain. “Just business. You know how committed I am to my job.”
“I forgot you’re not alone. On our next shopping trip, I expect full details.”
“Deal.” Trying not to think about how those details would be revealed as she cried on her friend’s shoulder, Marcia exchanged good-byes and then turned to the PR group. Excitement kicked everyone into overdrive, and they spent the next few hours solidifying plans for Sunburst’s revival.
When the meeting finally adjourned, the junior employees discussed heading to a local nightclub for dancing then disappeared into the elevator.
“Did we ever have that much energy?” she asked Adrian.
“For a nightclub? No. In our bedroom?” His gaze smoldered. “We had more.”
Her core ached, and she sucked in a breath. She circled the table and brushed her knuckles over the back of his neck. “I miss it.”
“So, what are you going to do about it?”
Good question. She didn’t have anything to offer him, except the stability of her career, which she could no longer count on. He’d been appalled at her dismal personal life. “What can I do?”
He jumped to his feet, backing her against the wall. “Tell me to take you on the table right now.”
She swallowed, the harsh wildness in his gaze exciting and unsettling her. “Not the table.” Not with how it wobbled as everyone had leaned on it to get closer to Jasmine’s computer. She needed a sturdy surface in an unlit room.
“You’re right. We don’t need the table.” He pressed a knee between her thighs, wedging them apart.
“The custodial team could walk in on us.” She grasped his hands before he could discover how much larger and less perky her boobs had become beneath her support bra.
Confusion filled his face, and he pulled his hands free. “Are you making up excuses because you don’t want me? Does the idea of me sliding my finger along your slit leave you cold?”
Oh my God. She bit her lip to keep from whimpering, aching for him to follow his words with actions. If he touched her, he’d discover her heat and wetness, but first he’d glide his palm over her soft, protruding stomach. Then he’d have to squeeze between her thighs as they rubbed together. She couldn’t bear to watch disgust replace desire in his gaze.
Pacing back, he ran a hand through his hair. “What a mess, huh? We live on opposite coasts, have different interests, and have grown so far apart I can’t even turn you on anymore. I guess we don’t have any hope of saving our marriage.”
How could he think he didn’t turn her on? Marcia teetered on the verge of coming just thinking about him stroking her. “You really don’t see any hope?”
“I think we’d be deluding ourselves to imagine any other scenario.”
She sagged against the wall. “Then why did you come to me?”
He sighed, defeat etched across his face. “I had delusions that if you needed me, we could have a happily-ever-after reconciliation, but I was living in fantasyland.”
Still desperate to remain in the fantasy he was shattering with every word, she forced her legs to hold her upright. “Does this mean you want a divorce?”
Expression unreadable, Adrian stared at her in silence.
Say no, please say no. If her voice would have cooperated, she would have begged him with more than just her eyes. But after throwing the word divorce between them, she couldn’t speak anything else.
“We can’t keep going like we have been,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And if our relationship is over, then, yeah, a divorce is the next logical step.” He turned away and picked up his tablet and briefcase.
He wanted a divorce. Because it was a logical move. After not seeing him for seven years, she should have been prepared, but she wasn’t.
Her legs unable to support her, she sank to the floor. “You go ahead and file or do whatever needs to be done.”
“Yeah, I’ll—” His voice cracked, and he walked out of the room, taking all her hopes and dreams with him, just as she’d done to him seven years before.
Chapter Seven
“Ms. Johnson, are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt? Ill?” The night custodian rushed to her side.
Marcia had no idea how long she’d sat on the floor, too shattered to cry. All the hope she’d carried through the limbo of their years apart had disintegrated in a single moment. Adrian wanted a divorce.
“I was just resting, Anna. I’m fine.” What a lie. She’d never felt less fine.
“You must go home. Sleep,” the woman prodded, concern lining her weathered face.
“You’re right.” Marcia stumbled to her feet, wincing at the stiffness in her legs. How long had she sat in a miserable stupor? “I do need a good night’s sleep. I’m sorry about the mess of pizza boxes. I meant to clear them out earlier.”
“No worries. I’ll take care of everything. Let me call the night guard to escort you home.”
“I’m fine. Really. Thanks for checking on me.” She gathered her belongings, trying not to give away her shaky, fragile s
tate.
Instead of an escort from the night guard, she wanted Adrian to drive her home. The moment they’d enter her apartment, she’d wrap her arms and legs around him and kiss him until he forgot all about the ugly D word, until he didn’t notice the weight she’d gained, until he only cared about thrusting inside her again and again.
But he wasn’t waiting next to her car. Instead, she waved to security and left the parking garage alone, driving through the empty streets to her apartment. Not a soul peeked through the curtains in the other units as she shuffled to her door and let herself in.
Leaning against the door to close it, she let her purse and work bag slide from her shoulders. Her husband had traveled across the country to see her. He’d even kissed her like she was special and precious and he’d missed her. And then, he’d ended it.
They hadn’t attempted to discover if they still had the magic that had made them inseparable the first time around. She hadn’t grabbed hold of the second chance to explore his body or lose herself in his treasured embrace. She would never be loved by him again.
God damn it.
She kicked her shoe loose, hurtling the low-heeled pump across the room. It hit a tray with a precarious stack of papers on the counter. The tray wobbled, and bills and notices slithered in slow motion to the floor. With a yank, she freed her second pump, intent on throwing it, too.
But when she drew back her arm, the anger drained out of her, and she lowered her hand to her side. She hadn’t blown her chance in the past few hours. She’d blown it when she’d walked away from Adrian all those years ago.
If only she could have a chance to hold him and make love to him one more time. Instead of all the what-ifs and what-could-have-beens that would haunt her forever, she’d treasure him and store up memories to cling to.
Trudging across the room, Marcia sighed at the mess of papers on the floor. They’d have to wait. She had no energy for anything but regrets tonight.
As she picked up the errant footwear, a paper came with it, the heel stabbed through her certificate for Madame Eve’s 1Night Stand service. She ran her fingertip over the gold-embossed lettering. What a ridiculous gift. Why would she ever cash it in when she had no interest in a one-night stand with anyone except her husband?
Her heart stuttered. Could Madame Eve deliver what she desired most?
She had nothing to lose by asking.
***
Adrian tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable on the hotel bed. But he couldn’t blame the bed for his problems. Why the hell had he told Marcia he wanted a divorce?
He’d wanted to make love to her in the conference room against the wall, on the table, at her apartment—pretty much on every available surface. Hell, he wouldn’t have let the lack of a surface stop him. He ached for her so damned much, he might never sleep again.
But she no longer wanted him. The way she recoiled from his touch chilled his heart. Even in the days and weeks before she left him, she’d never led him to believe his touch repulsed her.
Giving up on sleep, he headed to the fitness center. Although he pushed his muscles and stamina until he could barely stand, the workout didn’t numb the pain slicing through his heart. Somehow, he had to work alongside his wife while the clock ticked on the moments they had left together.
With his career the only thing going for him, he needed to deliver on his promise to Mr. Gladstone. As soon as Adrian returned home, he’d request to be transferred off the Sunburst account. If Gladstone refused, he’d find a new job, maybe open his own PR company. Or, hell, maybe he’d chuck it all and become a skydiving instructor.
After showering and ordering room service, he checked his phone, scrolling through the monotony of messages. His finger paused over one from 1Night Stand service that must have snuck through his spam filter. If random hookups were the only thing he had to look forward to, his future would be bleaker than he’d ever imagined. No longer having a marriage to hold out hope for, he clicked for a preview of the kind of sleazy offers he could expect.
Dear Adrian,
I have an unusual solicitation I hope you will consider. Your wife, Marcia, has contacted me requesting a one-night stand with you. If you are interested, arrangements will be made to have the encounter take place within the next twenty-four hours. I will send more details later in the day.
Madame Eve
Yes, Marcia had sent an unusual request. No, Adrian didn’t have to think twice. He wanted his wife.
Why, though, had she looked up a service to get him to sleep with her? He’d chased after her all day, all but begging for sex. She’d treated him to flashes of desire, but in the end, she’d coldly rejected his advances. To turn to a hookup service after they’d decided to officially go their separate ways didn’t make sense. What critical information was he missing?
He couldn’t allow his last chance to sleep with her turn into a repeat of their married life—spectacular in the bedroom with no carryover into their real life. He had to convince her he had more to offer, a reason for her to stick with him for good times and bad, in sickness and in health.
Once again, he hit the same brick wall that had kept him apart from her for seven years. She didn’t need him to take care of her. He couldn’t offer her anything she couldn’t do for herself. Many of those nights in the bar, he’d lamented his failure to provide for Marcia had driven her away, and if he’d only waited to marry her until he had a full-time job capable of supporting them both, he wouldn’t have lost her.
But an offer of economic stability would mean nothing. What else did he have to convince her to stay with him after the orgasm’s afterglow faded? He had to think of something or accept their marriage would be over by the end of the following night.
He could not waste the second chance Madame Eve’s 1Night Stand service had provided.
Chapter Eight
“Reservations for two at seven o’clock. Your best table, please. This is a special occasion,” Marcia said. She jotted down the confirmation from the maître d’ of the city’s most exclusive restaurant then moved on to ordering premium robes for the hotel room.
Next came a hair appointment, manicure, pedicure, and bikini wax scheduled over an extended lunch hour. Finally, she contacted the hotel’s personal shopper. Despite having done so plenty of times before, she’d always called on behalf of important hotel guests and high-level executives, never for herself. But she needed appropriate attire—not to mention the best shapewear on the planet—both for dinner and for later.
Her night with Adrian had to satisfy her for a lifetime, and she wouldn’t skimp on her efforts to create every illusion of perfection.
“You’re thinking too hard.” Adrian poked his head inside her office, sending her erratic heart into overdrive.
“Professional hazard.” She forced a smile as she covered her date night notes and then stood. One more thing—she needed to message Madame Eve to find out what had made him agree to the hookup. Surely, the matchmaker had been cagey when explaining his date’s identity. If he’d wanted to have sex with his wife, he would have done so last night, instead of calling for a divorce.
If Marcia canceled their dinner plans, they could meet in the hotel room, narrowing his window of time to change his mind. On the other hand, she could use the dinner date to convince him to give the evening—and her—a chance.
She pushed the dilemma aside to focus on business. “Mr. Sunburst and Blake are coming by first thing this morning so we can update them on our publicity plans. Afterward, we have a studio across town booked to film our new commercials. Rob and Sabrina had hoped for a 5:00 p.m. check-in, but they’ve already pushed it back to an ETA of six. Everything else looks to be on schedule.”
Adrian shoved his hands in his pockets. “You have everything under control without me lifting a finger.” The words should have been a compliment, but they sounded more like an accusation.
“Only because you set the wheels in motion,” she said. He’d set their brea
kup in motion, too, and, no matter how desperately she tried, she couldn’t find a way to slam on the brakes.
“Everything will go great.” He smiled. “I’ll make sure Mr. Sunburst and your boss know how much you deserve a big-ass promotion.”
Compared to saving her marriage, a measly promotion no longer mattered. “I don’t need you to suck up for me.”
“Believe me, I know you don’t need me.” His smile disappeared, and bitterness tinged his tone. “But you’re still stuck with me for the rest of the day and all night as well.”
Her mouth dropped open. He knew? “Madame Eve told you I was your date?”
“I wouldn’t have agreed to anyone else.”
Her heart lurched with hope.
“You’re wondering if I’ll still be as good as you remember, and you want a last chance to indulge in those memories of us,” he continued. “I’m curious, too. And I’ll deliver exactly what you want.”
The hope shriveled along with her heart. He’d signed on for good-bye sex and curiosity sex, with no interest in the last chance to win each other back she’d thrown her final hopes into. They hadn’t even undressed yet, and he already had a foot out the door.
“I’m sure you’ll be nothing short of amazing. I’ll meet you in the conference room in a minute.” After she had her emotions far enough under control she wouldn’t act like a needy, clingy wife.
Despite wanting to sleep with him, taking charge of the arrangements, and hearing from his own lips that he approved of the plan, Marcia looked like she’d prefer to meet with an execution squad than hook up with him. The ray of hope Madame Eve’s text had infused in him dimmed to defeat, and he plodded down the hall.
“Adrian, my man, did you ever impress me yesterday.” Mr. Sunburst slapped him on the back outside the entrance to the conference room.
“I’m flattered you think so, sir, but Marcia can make anyone look good.”