Has Bev lost her mind?
First she’d picked a man with one foot in the grave. Now she’d decided to rob the freaking cradle!
Annie’s hands were shaking as she reached for her cell phone. Going to the Cabaña Club was definitely out of the question now. Face Rico? Casually mention she needed a double shot of straight whiskey because she’d walked in and found his uncle’s head beneath . . . Oh God. She couldn’t even go there.
Maybe she could persuade Collin to leave his group bar party and meet her at his house. He always had the ability to help her make at least marginal sense of life as she knew it. She would tell him it wasn’t a life-threatening emergency, just a life-as-she-knew-it-threatening emergency.
Annie found herself laughing hysterically as his cell number started ringing. She was losing it. Life as she knew it really was going up in flames right before her ready-to-burst-into-tears, squeezed-tightly-shut eyes.
When Collin answered, she could barely hear him over the din from the bar when he yelled, “Annie? I hope you can hear me. I was just about to call you. Lars is getting frisky, so we’re leaving early and heading to my house. He’s been gone all week, you know. Don’t feel bad that you couldn’t make it. Most of the gang only stayed for happy hour anyway. Annie? Annie? Can you hear me?”
Annie disconnected the call without saying a word.
Then she burst into tears.
The fact that an elderly couple walking their pudgy Boston terrier on the opposite side of the street looked in her direction didn’t matter. In fact, it only made matters worse. Annie suspected even Mr. and Mrs. Somewhere-in-their-eighties were probably hurrying to walk old tubby so they could cuddle on the sofa for the rest of the evening.
Crap!
Am I the only one on the planet completely alone?
Lars was getting frisky. Helena was probably stripped off naked beneath the bar, letting Rico cop a feel between his drink-mixing duties. Matt probably had Claire tethered to his workout bench. Umberto and her mother . . .
No.
I’ll never be able to go there.
Her sobs were becoming so loud the old couple had now crossed the street and were walking in her direction, concerned looks on their kind but wrinkled faces. At least she didn’t recognize them as anyone she knew in the neighborhood. That’s all she needed. Some neighbor to tell Bev her crazy daughter had a nervous breakdown sitting in her ridiculous bright purple car at the side of the road.
“Are you okay, dear?” the old woman asked, her arm still linked through her husband’s.
Annie wiped at her eyes with her fingertips, trying to ignore that tubby was now happily pissing on her left rear tire. “Sorry, just an attack of nostalgia,” Annie said, offering what she hoped was a believable excuse. “I grew up here in Druid Hills. Back when I was an innocent kid and life was wonderful.”
The old couple exchanged knowing looks for a moment.
“Go make up with your young man, dear,” the old woman said. “Makeup sex always makes life wonderful again.” She turned to her husband. “Makeup sex still works for us, doesn’t it, Morty?”
Morty winked and gave Annie an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
Okay, that does it!
Even eighty-something-year-old strangers were now telling her that what life really boiled down to was nothing but sex, sex, sex.
Annie bid the old couple a hurried good-bye and pulled away from the curb. With tears still stinging her eyes and her hands on the steering wheel in a white-knuckle grip, she made a decision that was going to change her life.
To hell with relationships, she decided.
If sex was the answer, then sex and nothing but sex was going to become her new mission in life.
It was time to live, breathe, and taste the passion. Badda-bing herself silly. And have makeup sex until life was wonderful again.
But with whom?
Her foolish heart told Annie she already knew the answer to that question.
But her much wiser brain yelled, “Not on my shift. No F-wording way!”
Matt crumpled the microwave popcorn bag in his fist and tossed it backwards over his head, then returned to his lethargic reclining position on his plush leather sofa. He aimed the remote at his big-screen TV, thinking that being home alone at midnight on a Friday night didn’t bother him half as much as imagining what was going on at the group bar party at big man Rico’s Cabaña Club.
Dirty traitors.
He’d intended to invite Collin and Annie for a group bar party of his own. Just the three of them. To celebrate privately. To make good on his idea to spend some creative team camaraderie time together. He’d intended to extend the invitation to Annie first, right after he apologized for the misunderstanding they’d had over Rico. He’d been sure Collin would agree to stopping off for a few beers. But during their break for lunch, Annie had spent her time with her back to the world and her cell phone to her ear.
Talking to Rico?
Probably.
And making Matt wonder exactly what Annie’s “wonderful” time with the jerk really meant.
Surely she hadn’t let Rico hand-kiss her out of her panties on the first date. Nah, that wasn’t possible. Annie was smarter than that. He wasn’t going to compare the one night they’d spent together with some meaningless dinner date she’d had with Rico. Not only had they spent two full months leading up to that mind-blowing experience, but the night never would have happened as soon as it did had they not accidentally bumped into each other when no one else was watching.
Nope.
Annie was not sleeping with Rico.
He’d bet his priceless Corvette on it.
Still, she’d sure jumped up and bolted out of J.B.’s office with her cell phone to her ear when five o’clock rolled around. Making him again miss his chance to pull her aside, apologize, and extend his invitation for a few beers.
Calling Rico again?
Probably.
To tell Rico all about the big group party heading his way. And making sure the night was going to be all about Rico, just as the day had pretty much been all about Rico and the off-the-chart responses Paragon had gotten to his stupid beefcake televised photo.
Well, screw Rico.
And to hell with Collin and Annie.
There was no way this dawg was going to roll over and beg for anyone’s attention. Annie and Collin could salsa themselves into oblivion for all he cared. He was just glad Collin had assumed Claire Winslow was involved in his “other” plans. He sure as hell had no intention of ever admitting he’d had Collin and Annie in mind for the “other” plans he’d mentioned.
Both of them could politely kiss his royal—
Matt bolted upright.
The urgency of the finger on his doorbell propelled him over the back of the sofa without the slightest concern that he was wearing nothing but his boxer shorts.
It had to be Mike and Steve, he decided, chuckling to himself. He’d halfway promised to meet them at Sweeny’s and tag along for the big bar crawl they’d planned through Midtown later on. Yup, they’d just be getting right and tight about now. If the big boys had come to get him, he would go along. Those two idiots would see to it.
“Ease off the bell, you drunken bozos,” he yelled.
But his big grin disappeared when he opened his front door and found Annie standing in the hallway.
“Not the drunken bozos you were expecting, I gather?”
Matt was speechless. He finally said, “I wouldn’t be this shocked if I found Catherine Zeta-Jones standing in my doorway.” And he meant it.
Annie peeped around him. “Did I interrupt something? Or are you alone?”
Matt opened his front door wide as proof. “Care to come in?”
Annie shook her head. “Not yet. Not until I make myself crystal clear about why I’m here.”
“The fact that I’m standing here in nothing but my underwear couldn’t persuade you to at least step inside the door?”
Her
eyes dropped to his boxers, then back to his face. “No. Not until we understand each other.”
Matt frowned. He’d already decided if Annie had come to give him a hard time over that prick Rico, she’d picked the wrong damn night to do it.
“I want you to bing me,” she said.
For the second time Matt was speechless. “Huh?”
“You heard me. Badda-bing, Matt. Your definition. But that’s all I want. No relationship bullshit. No idle chitchat. I’m offering you a no-strings bingfest. Are you up for the challenge or not?”
Up for it? Matt Jr. was up for it the second you said “bing.”
But when he noticed that Matt Jr. now had Annie’s attention, Matt positioned himself slightly behind the door. “Very funny, Annie. As much as this is one fab concept of yours I actually could go for, something else is going on. So spill. What’s wrong?”
Her chin came up. “I said no idle chitchat. To bing? Or not to bing? That is the only question I’m interested in.”
She’s bluffing.
The look she was giving him said she wasn’t.
Matt decided to call her on it.
“Hell yes, I’m up for it,” he said, taking Annie by the arm and pulling her inside his apartment. He sent her a covert grin as he made a big production of locking his front door with a loud click.
“You want a bingfest?” He grinned again. “You’ve come to the right man.”
Then he reached down, slipped off his boxers, and let Matt Jr. back up his bold statement.
This is the part where Matt expected her to toss some obscenity in his direction and march out the door. Tell him that’s exactly what she expected from an insensitive macho ass like him. Caution him that she never wanted to hear him say another word against her adoring, precious, and sensitive Rico again.
Instead, what Annie tossed at him was something she took from the front pocket of her incredibly short short-shorts. It hit Matt in the chest with a thwack, but he caught it before it fell to the floor.
He looked down.
Holy shit!
A four-pack of condoms.
Annie was serious.
All Matt could do was stand there and stare.
Whoosh. Off came her top. God, no bra. Just breasts. Just two amazingly wonderful smother-your-face-in-me breasts.
Zip and Slip. Down came the shorts. No panties, either. No panties. God, no panties. Did he mention no panties? Wow. He definitely needed to start sending daily thank-you notes to the person who came up with that bikini wax idea.
He was fading in and out of sheer slap-happy delirium now, yet Matt was still fully aware there had never been a more perfect pair of mile-long legs than the ones walking toward him now.
Tug. Off came the ponytail thing. Now he really was a goner. Annie’s long silky hair always knocked him on-his-ass silly.
He gulped when Annie took the pack from his hand and ripped one of the squares open with her bare teeth. He shivered when she helped Matt Jr. into his play suit.
“God, Annie,” Matt whispered, but she clamped a hand over his mouth.
“No idle chitchat,” she warned.
Before Matt knew what hit him, Annie had him on his back on the sofa, with her on top. She positioned herself so he slid deeply inside her and Matt moaned one long, loud guttural plea.
Oh hell.
Was moaning allowed?
He couldn’t remember.
But it didn’t matter. His hands slid from her wonderfully hardened nipples to her tiny waist, trying to slow her down. If he didn’t slow Annie down right now, all they’d be having tonight was a two-seconds-and-we’re-done fest.
Bing. Bing. Bing.
The warning bell sounded loud and clear again and Matt quickly changed their positions. Yes. Much better now. Now he was back in control. He could take things slow and easy with him on top. Pleasure her just as much as she was pleasuring him. Man oh man, how much pleasure could one man stand?
Yeah, he could keep the old bing at bay all night in this position. But then she pulled another dirty trick and reached up and pulled his head down for a kiss like there was no tomorrow.
Urgency grabbed Matt like the need to make a three-pointer from half-court with only one second left on the clock. Go for it. Those little bites on his neck were driving him crazy. Driving him harder and faster and harder and faster. No. No. No. Not the earlobe. He’d never survive her sucking on his earlobe.
Oh, baby!
Matt finally managed to pull away from her, but the second he did, Annie pulled another whopper of a sucker punch. She flipped over on her stomach, arched her back, and pushed temptation right up into his po’-boy face.
At that moment, Matt lost all sense of reason.
Annie—ever so tempting in that position—was the last thing Matt clearly remembered when he opened one eye several hours later to find her slipping out of his bed where they’d finally ended up during round four of their no-strings-attached and no-idle-chitchat bingfest.
He squinted at the illuminated dial on his bedside clock. “Annie. It’s four in the morning. Come back to bed.”
He cursed when she kept walking and closed his bedroom door behind her. Damn. He flipped on his bedside light and hurried to his dresser drawer for another pair of boxers. When he walked into the living room Annie had turned on a light herself, had on her shorts, and was pulling her top back over her head.
“Annie. This is crazy. You don’t have any business wandering around Atlanta by yourself at four in the morning.”
She sent him a defiant look when her head popped through the neck of her top. “I thought we made an agreement, Matt. No talking during or after sex. And don’t worry about my safety. This isn’t a relationship.”
Matt shook his head and ran a hand through his bedhead hair. “You think I wouldn’t have been worried about your safety yesterday, Annie? Or the day before? Even last week? Christ. There’s nothing relationship-oriented about me being concerned that you’re driving around Atlanta by yourself at four o’clock in the morning.”
She slipped on her sandals. “I’ll be perfectly safe. My cell phone’s in the car. I can call 911 all by my big-girl self.”
Matt frowned. “Well, I’m walking your big-girl self to your car, whether you like it or not. So wait right there. And that’s not idle chitchat. That’s an order.”
She shrugged. “Okay. As long as you promise no more chitchat on the way to my car. Chitchat after sex would make this seem like a real relationship.”
“We can’t have that.”
“You bet we can’t,” she said, her nose in the air. “Relationships are your worst nightmare, and I’ve decided they’re going to become mine. That makes us perfect bing buddies. At work we can go right back to business as usual. Just like we did after the first time we had sex. Only this time we can be mature about it. I know where you stand. You know where I stand. End of story.”
“Yeah, end of story,” Matt said with a sigh. He still hadn’t figured out exactly what was going on with Annie, but at the moment he was too whipped to care.
Of course, then she smiled, throwing him completely off guard again.
“But I do hope you’re willing to continue our bing arrangement, Matt,” she said brightly. “This could really work out well for both of us. Just straight sex. No strings attached.”
I get it, dammit. All you want from me is sex.
But if Annie was trying to pull some type of reverse psychology crap on him, she wasn’t getting away with it. Matt purposely grinned and winked. “You’re finally talking like a woman of my own heart, Annie. Anytime you need a bing, just give old Matt a ring.”
Take that.
He could be as nonchalant as she was being.
If Annie wanted straight no-strings sex, that’s exactly what she’d get from him. She could bet her cute little ass she’d never hear him complain about it.
Matt headed back to his bedroom to get dressed. When he returned, he played strictly by the rules
. Neither of them spoke a single word as they left his apartment and headed for the visitor parking area. Matt didn’t even say good-bye when Annie unlocked her car, slid behind the wheel, and turned on the ignition.
Hell no.
That might have fallen into the “too relationshippy” category and he would have been rapped on the knuckles by his new disapproving, rule-making bing teacher.
But what was really going on here?
Annie had spent the last four hours binging his brains out. Right now they should be upstairs in bed, basking in the afterglow of being completely sexually satiated. But what was he doing? He was standing outside his apartment. At four o’clock in the morning. Watching the woman he wasn’t having a relationship with drive off in a bright purple Volkswagen.
What did a guy say to that?
One word sprang to mind.
Un-binging-believable.
CHAPTER 12
Annie had read somewhere that you spent one-seventh of your life dreading Mondays. She faced this particular Monday morning, however, with a huge smile she didn’t have to fake. Reality had stolen the rose-colored glasses right off her snooty, I’m-holding-out-for-love nose. All she had to say about that was—good riddance.
For the first time in her life, she felt she was finally seeing life clearly. She’d been hopelessly chasing the elusive L-word for as long as she could remember. Now she realized that love basically equaled two vowels, two consonants and two idiots, temporarily addled by the real L-word—lust.
Well hell-o, lust!
Meet Annie Long, your new best friend.
At least lust was honest. Lust didn’t have you dreaming about long-term commitments and wedding bells and baby booties. Lust didn’t have you yearning for flower bouquets, cozy candlelit dinners, or romantic moonlight walks on tropical beaches. Lust was straight and to the point.
That’s exactly how she’d approached her bingfest with Matt. Straight and to the point. She’d erased all other thoughts completely from her mind. She’d simply allowed herself to live, breathe, and taste the passion.
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