by A. C. Arthur
A.C. Arthur is an award-winning author who lives in Baltimore, Maryland, with her husband, three children, grandson and English bulldog named Vader. An active imagination and a love for reading encouraged her to begin writing in high school and she hasn’t stopped since.
If you liked The Last Affair, why not try
The Love Cure by Cara Lockwood
The Player by Stefanie London
Our Little Secret by Rachael Stewart
Also by A.C. Arthur
A Private Affair
At Your Service
Discover more at Harlequin.com
THE LAST AFFAIR
A.C. ARTHUR
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
Excerpt from The Love Cure by Cara Lockwood
CHAPTER ONE
Aurora Mountain Ski Resort
Finger Lakes Region, New York
DESTA HENNER WALKED into the main hall of the ski resort like a boss. That is, her shoulders were back, her chin held high, her steps assured, and nothing but confidence radiated from her body. That’s how her assistant, Nessa, described the way Desta entered any marketing meeting. Even thousands of miles away from the office, the same energy applied.
Check-in to the Dear Lover weekend retreat had taken fifteen of the longest minutes of her life, possibly because she’d confirmed her attendance and made reservations at the last minute. Now she wore her name badge proudly and walked past all the people she didn’t know, giving nods and smiles before coming to a stop at the farthest corner of the room.
This might be a mistake. Some things were better left unchanged. Especially good things, which was precisely what she’d had for the last three months. An online connection with an intelligent thirty-three-year-old man who shared her love of R&B music and foreplay. Who would’ve thought a virtual relationship could’ve brought her so much joy and fulfillment? More importantly, after all she’d been through, who would’ve thought she’d crave any of those things with a man again? Certainly not her, but she’d taken a chance when she’d signed up for the Dear Lover app. Tonight, she’d meet Dear Lover 1687 for the first time face-to-face.
“Hello, beautiful.”
She spun around, barely noticing the trip in her pulse at the sound of a deep and alluring male voice.
“Hello.” He was taller than her, so she tilted her head to meet his gaze.
“Why’re you standing all the way over here by yourself? This is Mix ’n’ Mingle time.” She supposed he meant to highlight those words with the waggle of his eyebrows, but it just came across as weird. Besides, she knew what time it was. She’d read the agenda that had been emailed with her confirmation a couple times already.
“I just arrived after a very long drive from the city.” Not exactly true. She’d gone to her room after checking in, taken a shower and changed for the welcome party. In addition to being tall, the man had an athletic build, sandy-brown hair cut low and neat, sea-green eyes and a charming smile.
Was this Dear Lover 1687?
Dear Lover offered full anonymity; all posts went through their message board so personal email addresses were hidden. User identifications were numbers instead of some variation of the person’s name or nickname. And when couples linked up, they were strongly advised not to reveal any personally identifying information. So, she and Dear Lover 1687 hadn’t discussed anything outside of world news, favorite foods, dream vacations and, of course, every sexual position, fetish and/or fantasy they’d ever had. None of which were helpful in figuring out if he was the guy standing in front of her.
“Well, it’s Friday, and I don’t care what my watch says. It’s five o’clock somewhere, so we’re having a drink.” He snagged two champagne flutes from a passing server’s tray and offered her one.
Accepting the glass with a slow smile was polite, but she needed to cut to the chase. “What’s your user number? Aren’t we supposed to wear them so we can meet up with the one we’ve been talking to?” After all, that was the purpose of being here. While the Dear Lover app was advertised as just a social networking site for adults, private events were held for their members four times a year. Attendance was voluntary.
Before answering her question, the cheerful green-eyed guy put the glass to his lips, emptied the contents and then stuck a hand in his pocket to pull out a badge.
“This is a long weekend, baby. We’re not confined to one meetup.” Again with the pet names he probably thought were cute and the strange eyebrow waggling. This time, after she’d peeped the number on his badge, both actions were registering as creepy.
Plus, he wasn’t Dear Lover 1687.
“I only came to meet one person.” In case he didn’t understand the words, she shook her head so vehemently it almost caused an instant headache.
“But it’s time to mingle.” No doubt hunting for another drink or possibly another meetup, he searched the crowd before returning his attention to her. “And you look hot in that dress. We can keep each other company until our matches arrive.”
“I’d rather not.” She knew it sounded snippy and probably a little uptight, which were words she’d heard used to describe herself before, but it wasn’t intentional. “To be honest, I’m kind of nervous about this first meeting, so I’d really like to get it over with.”
Had she just admitted to a stranger that she was nervous? She had, and that was unusual, but it didn’t stop her from walking away from Mr. Green Eyes. Desta didn’t share her emotions or her personal life with people she’d just met. Butterflies did a quick tango in her stomach, and she took a gulp from her glass. It was great champagne; she might need another one very soon.
By the time she finished the drink, she’d walked halfway across the room to another quiet spot near a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. The breathtaking views immediately calmed her. Straight ahead was a light wood deck that seemed to stretch the length of the building. Farther out were snowcapped mountains, rolling hills covered in more white fluffiness and a series of smaller buildings that resembled this one in wood coloring and modern rustic design.
“Champagne?”
She managed a genuine smile for the server who’d appeared on her left. It took less than a second to tip her head back and empty the current glass. An additional few moments and she’d traded for another drink and took a sip. Yes indeed, they could keep the champagne coming all night and she wouldn’t mind. Her high tolerance for alcohol had always been a source of contention with her five older brothers, who met a drunken stupor three to four drinks in, but tonight it might just come in handy.
As she stared out the window it occurred to her that she was hiding, and that wasn’t acceptable. Invitations for this event had flooded her inbox, and eventually she’d decided that signing up for the app and chatting online was no longer enough. If she were really going to reclaim all of her life, she had to take the next step. Standing in a corner downing champagne was a far cry from the fun and exciting weekend the Dear Lover meetup had promised.
She took a deep breath and another sip of champ
agne to restart her boss mode; then she relaxed her face into a welcoming smile and turned to face the crowd. Suddenly, her breath caught. She gripped the stem of the glass and began to choke.
What the hell was he doing here?
“You okay, hon?” came a voice nearby.
As Desta struggled to keep from gagging on a combo of shock and champagne, a woman approached and began patting her back.
“I’m...fine. Just—” Desta cleared her throat. “Fine.”
“Okay. We wouldn’t want you collapsing on the floor before the fun can begin.” The woman’s hand was still on Desta’s back, even though she was no longer coughing.
“Really, I’m fine. Just went down the wrong way, I suppose.” Or she’d seen someone she shouldn’t have seen. This room was full of people, how was it possible that she’d zeroed in on him immediately? Her heart pounded in her chest as she chanced another glance in his direction. His gaze shifted and she immediately turned away. Dammit! It really was him.
The woman nodded, her big bouncy curls in a fiery shade of red brushing over her shoulder with the action. “I’m Kelli, with an i. This is my second Dear Lover event. How ’bout you?”
Second? Had she struck out with her first match?
“I’m Desta.” She resisted the urge to add with an a. Instead she said, “This is my first event.” And in a few minutes it was going to be her last, because if he didn’t leave, she would.
“Oh, then you’re really lucky I stopped by to keep you from choking to death,” Kelli said. “I can show you the ropes, and if it’s not a good face-to-face matchup for either of us, we can just hang out this weekend and ditch the full agenda.”
That would certainly bring Desta great joy. A weekend with a woman she didn’t know.
“Actually, I may just head back to the city tonight. I have so much work to catch up on at the office.”
Yesterday was Thanksgiving, and the office was closed from Wednesday to Monday. Ronald Gold Fashions might be one of the top fashion houses in the world, but it was also a family business, and its owner and head designer, Ronald Gold Sr., was all about spending time with family. As Desta didn’t have any family on the East Coast, holidays were the best time for her to catch up on emails and research.
Admittedly, she probably should’ve remained focused on work from the start. Then she wouldn’t be in this position—torn between meeting her match and being spotted by the one man who’d tease her relentlessly for being here while making it impossible to separate this private weekend from her professional life.
“Nonsense.” Kelli waved a hand with silver rings on each finger. “Look, we’ll exchange numbers and keep in touch via text throughout the night. If it looks like our meetups are a miss, we’ll gather at the bar and drink till we can barely make it up to our rooms. And in the morning, we’ll hit the slopes!” Kelli talked while retrieving her phone from her leather purse.
There was no need for a number exchange if she wasn’t staying the weekend. But wouldn’t that be running, something she’d promised herself not to do again? With her thoughts still in a jumble she dug into her RGold clutch and pulled out her phone.
About a minute later, Kelli was all smiles once more as she dropped her phone back into her purse. “There, now we’re all set. Remember, keep in touch, and I’ll see ya in a bit.”
Desta’s response was a nod and another smile before “Okay. See ya in a bit.” Those words didn’t even sound right coming from her, but Kelli’s upbeat personality was easy to follow.
He laughed, and Desta froze. She knew that chuckle, which started in the depths of his gut and eventually burst out so anyone hearing it would fall into laughter as well. He had a very infectious personality. Maybe he was Kelli’s match?
It didn’t matter who he was here to meet: he couldn’t see her here.
Desta started to move, heading for the door. She didn’t bother to pinpoint his location in the room now. He had to be close if she could hear him laughing. Kelli would get a text from her when she got in the car, but now she had to get out of here. No way could she be seen by Maurice Gold. Her boss’s son, her coworker and the guy she routinely beat in poker when she visited his parents’ house. How totally weird would that be? Having Maurice—the consummate practical joker—find out she’d resorted to an app like Dear Lover to have a social life would definitely create awkwardness at work.
Her exit path had been clear at first, but there was suddenly a slew of people in her way, one of which was a server Desta collided with in her attempt to sidestep the crowd. She dropped her empty glass seconds before everything around her shifted into slow motion. The server’s wide-eyed shock morphed into dread as his arm shook from the impact and the tray full of champagne flutes wobbled. Mortification lodged in Desta’s chest as she watched the golden liquid sloshing over the rim of those glasses. And as if that weren’t enough to prove she’d made a mistake coming here, there was Maurice’s concerned face as he reached for the tray and easily plucked it from the server’s hand.
Slow motion switched to real time, and Maurice’s brow furrowed. “Hey, Des. What’re you doing here?”
* * *
For the first time in the five years he’d known her, Desta didn’t have a quick response. In fact, from the way she was blinking repeatedly, with her lips drawn in that straight line, which usually meant she was annoyed about something, he’d say she was either as shocked to see him as he was her or she was pissed that he was here at all.
“I’ll take that,” the server snapped before repossessing the tray Maurice had rescued.
“Sure, no problem. Glad to be of assistance.” The guy’s frown was about as much of a thank-you as he figured he was going to get. Maurice wasn’t sorry to see him go.
He was, however, still trying to figure out why Desta—the marketing director at his family’s fashion house and the most composed woman he knew—was here at a weekend meetup that, despite its advertising, was sure to be full of frolicking and fetishizing.
“You look really great in that dress.” Actually, she looked phenomenal in the short, off-the-shoulder design that could’ve been made to fit her curves specifically.
“Thanks. You look nice, too.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, holding her purse in front of her body with both hands. “And I could ask what you’re doing here as well.”
She could, and that would be just like Des—always ready with questions at any meeting or runway show and expecting quick answers. For a moment Maurice wondered how he should respond. Should he just come out and say he was there to meet the woman who’d had him jerking off in his bed too many nights to count in the past few months? Or should he come up with some other entertaining story about why he was at this ski resort, in this room, wearing the same badge...she was wearing.
“Are you registered with Dear Lover?” The surprised chuckle that followed the question barely had a chance to bubble free when he reached out and lifted her badge from where it was clipped to the top pleat of her dress.
Dear Lover 1288. He knew those numbers very well.
When he dragged his gaze back up to her face, she was directing her eyes to where his badge was boldly clipped to the lapel of his smoke-gray sports coat.
“No.” The one word came in a whisper as she finally looked up at him. “This is a joke, right? You’re playing one of your goofy practical jokes on me, and I swear to you, Maurice Silas Gold, my revenge is gonna be epic!”
She spoke the last through clenched teeth, and a part of him wanted to tell her she was right. He could easily throw his head back and laugh like he was watching a Kevin Hart stand-up, and she’d believe he’d constructed this elaborate hoax as one of the annual pranks he pulled on her and his siblings. That would’ve gotten him out of the very uncomfortable spot he was experiencing at this moment.
A variety of emotions went through him, and uncomforta
ble was the least of them. First and foremost, there was the physical reaction—lust, pure and simple—as he recalled all the messages they’d exchanged and how aroused he’d become reading them. Connecting each word from those emails to the sexy-as-hell woman he was staring at now was a little jarring and a lot exciting. But he couldn’t have been lusting after Des like this for the past few months. Her calm and controlled personality wasn’t his usual type, not to mention the whole coworker situation. In fact, she was more than just a coworker, thanks to his parents always inviting her to their family events because she had no family of her own in New York. Eventually, he’d come to see her as another sister.
Well, that certainly was no longer the case. The woman who’d been at Thanksgiving dinner with his family last night now collided with the woman who’d given him an in-depth explanation of why she loved the doggy-style position during sex. No way was he ever going to look at Des the same now. “Maybe we should go someplace private to talk about this.”
She closed her eyes at his suggestion, her long, curled lashes dropping. When they lifted again, she stared back at him with resolution.
Her answer was to turn and start walking toward the door. He followed, letting his gaze drop to the easy and very tempting sway of her ass. She had the age-old and much-coveted Coca-Cola-bottle shape, and from this view, it added to his already growing erection. This was something Maurice had long ago noticed. Des was a great-looking woman. She was dangerously smart, fiercely independent and competitive as hell. Any man would be lucky to have her.
This time yesterday, he would’ve sworn he was not that man. Yet, here he was, wondering how it was possible that she was the sexy vixen who’d coaxed him to jerk off for the first time since high school?
In less than two minutes they were in the lobby of the ski lodge, going to a far corner where couches were positioned in a cozy square facing a huge open fireplace. Des sat on the end of one couch, and Maurice sat at the end of another a couple feet from her.