Box of 1Night Stands: 21 Sizzling Nights

by Anthology

  Snores answered her. Grace turned around, and her mouth dropped open. How could he pass out so fast? Damn. “You can’t fall asleep. You need to tell me where you’re staying.”

  Snort, nose growl, lip smack.

  Not the answer she wanted.

  Now what? She could go home and leave him in the car, but if he got sick again and choked, she didn’t want to explain the dead body in the back seat.

  Couldn’t take him to his room, not without knowing where that would be. So home it was, and she’d make him a bed on the couch. He knew her brother, so he couldn’t be a bad guy. Besides, if he got out of line, she’d Taser him or put him in cuffs.

  Grace put the car in drive and pulled onto the street, glancing at the time on the dash. Her shift was over anyway, and she had the next two days off. Plenty of time to deal with him in the morning.

  When she pulled into her driveway, the drunk soldier sounded like a grizzly on attack. Now the difficult part, waking him up, getting him in the house and on the couch. Considering he was twice her size, she might need backup in the way of her best friend. She pulled her cell phone out and dialed Maggie, certain she’d help, even if she got her out of bed earlier than she liked.

  “This better be an emergency.”

  “I’ve got a drunken soldier in the back of my cruiser, and I need help getting him into the house.”

  “Why not take him to the station to sleep it off?”

  “Because he knew my brother, and I can’t. I need help. Will you please come over and give me hand lugging him into the house.”

  “It’s four in the morning and today is my day off, my morning to sleep in—or was.” Maggie let out an exaggerated sigh.

  “I’ll let you use my red pumps anytime the mood strikes you.”

  Silence.

  “Maggie?”

  “The sacred CFMs, the pair that’s off limits? The designer pumps you swiped out from under my nose at that yard sale?”

  “I didn’t swipe them out from under your nose. I saw them first.” In the box, never worn, the shoes had been a dream come true. Instead of a thousand dollars, she had paid ten, a steal that Maggie wouldn’t let her live down. They’d both seen them at the same time. Grace had been faster, much to her friend’s dismay. Every time they went out, she begged to borrow them, and Grace told her she saved them to wear for a special date—whenever in the next century that would be.

  “I’ll be over in five minutes.” Considering she lived ten minutes away, that said a lot.

  Grace twisted in her seat and eyed the soldier. Though he sounded like a chainsaw, the man put the god Aries to shame with his dark hair, thick lashes closed over sexy, bedroom eyes, and a bad ass body that kept going. His shirt had ridden up on his stomach, exposing a happy trail she wanted to follow to its ending. And that mouth. Wow. His mouth was strong, his smile, disarming. She’d bet her red shoes he was a great kisser.

  She blinked. Where the fuck did that come from? She snapped back around, gripped the steering wheel, and stared at the house. She didn’t lust after strangers, and she sure as hell didn’t jump soldiers. She really needed to get out more. There was no other explanation for her sudden loss of lucidity.

  ***

  Maggie stared into the cruiser, her mouth agape.

  “So, you can see why I needed a hand.”

  “Or two.” She turned to Grace. “Look what the cat dragged in. Damn, girl, I want to go where kitty’s been hunting.”

  “I didn’t drag him in. I was going to give him a ride to wherever he’s staying, but he kind of passed out on me.”

  “You were going to let that get away. Honey, we need to have a serious talk. Sober him up and ride him until you’re bowlegged.”

  “I can’t believe you said that.”

  “I can’t believe you don’t know what you got here. Hello, do you see the same thing I do? Well, all of it but the mess he made. Damn, he just fell into your lap.”

  “That’s trouble.”

  “That’s breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

  “You’re such a whore.”

  Maggie grinned and raised her hand. “Guilty. At least get his name and number when he wakes up.”

  “I’m not pimping for you.” Grace eyed the soldier, irritated at the thought of her friend doing everything with the guy she’d sworn she wouldn’t think about.

  Maggie snorted. “Not for me,” she poked her in the chest, “for you. You need to get laid, and something tells me he’s the guy for the mission.”

  “Help me get him inside.”

  “And…?”

  “And then you go home.”

  “Promise me you’ll at least think about jumping him.”

  “If I promise to think about it, will you help me get him in the house and leave?”

  She crossed her finger over her heart and smiled the kind of smile that usually started trouble. “Can I offer a suggestion?”

  “Yes?”

  “Get the dolly from the garage. Even with two of us, I don’t think we can carry him in.”

  When her grandparents left her the house, it came with accessories, and though that wasn’t the purpose for which the dolly was designed, it would work. “You’re a genius.”

  “Yeah, I am, huh?”

  Grace glanced across the street to make sure the old hen who lived there wasn’t up and spying. Usually the curtain would be cracked open, or she’d drive up and down the street on her Moped. The last thing she wanted was to be the topic of discussion at Wrinkle City on bingo night. In a small town, everyone knew you, and when grandma talked about you, the tales grew bigger by the second. She could only imagine the stories Mrs. Jones could concoct if she saw the two of them roll a man into her house while he was strapped to a dolly.

  Chapter Two

  Frank sat up, slammed his eyes shut, and pressed his hand over his forehead. “Ah, what did you do last night, Frank?”

  “You drank too much, played a horrendous solo on top of the mausoleum, and puked in my car.”

  “God. Please tell me I didn’t.”

  “Oh, but you did,”

  His eyes snapped back open and he searched the strange room for the source of the voice. When his gaze stopped on the strawberry blonde in an overstuffed easy chair, her leg draped over one of the arms, sipping a cup of coffee, he couldn’t look away. She wore a pair of red sweat-shorts and a worn T-shirt that had faded from black down through several shades of gray until it settled into a dingy, well-loved, pewter shade. A big Army logo ran across the front in bright yellow.

  Hu-ah.

  “You left your bike at the cemetery. When you’re ready, I’ll take you to get it.”

  “Who are you, and where am I?” Frank surveyed the room, searching for any memory of how he’d ended up there. The place was cozy, the woman gorgeous, and he certainly could have done worse. “Did we?” His head throbbed as he strained his brain for details. Certainly he wouldn’t forget hitting that.

  “My name is Grace Daniels.” She snorted and rose to her feet. His gaze immediately drifted back to a body that rocked the workout clothes she’d donned. “You can rest assured, we did nothing. I had to haul your ass in here on a dolly last night.”

  “Damn. Can we get a do over?”

  “How about we start with java instead?”

  “Yeah.” Grace Daniels. What were the chances? Frank rubbed his temple, trying his best to sooth the monster headache that threatened to split his skull. A dolly? Really? Did she say I puked in her car? Fuck. There went any chance of a good first impression. He’d have to clean that up as soon as he got his bearings.

  She moved for the kitchen, and his gaze followed her retreat. Her rounded butt swayed with each step, forcing him to shift his body on the couch and pull the blanket up to hide the emerging problem.

  She came back with a steaming cup and handed it to him. “Black, no sugar. Okay?”

  “Perfect.”

  “So, you were in my brother’s unit.”

&nb
sp; “No, but we served on the same post, were friends. Actually, that’s why I’m here.” He took a taste and sank into heaven. She even knew how to make a cup of coffee. Damn, how perfect could she be? Everything about this woman tripped his switches.

  Her eyes widened. “You’re not Special Forces.”

  He shook his head. “Nothing that glorious. Army band. I play trumpet and travel with the color guard.”

  “Color guard? That’s a long way from Green Beret. So, how did you know Geordie?”

  She sank back into the chair, letting it swallow her while she resumed her previous pose, with her leg draped over the arm, and what a nice leg it was. The other wasn’t half bad either.

  “And?”

  Huh? Frank blinked, jerking his attention back to her face. “He came into the NCO club one night while I played for a retirement party. You know, the usual ho-hum sheet music you see at those functions. Half the crowd looked catatonic, and nothing we tried seemed to put any pep in them. Then your brother and some of his buddies walked in. He didn’t bother to ask, but hopped up on the stage and took over like he was part of the band, pounding out the drum solo for Bennie Goodman’s Sing, Sing, Sing. We were friends from then on.”

  “God, it livened that placed up. I think I saw the lace on more old women’s panties that night, than I ever care to see again. He had them hopping. I didn’t think those old broads could move like that.” He chuckled. “Your brother was a good guy, a damn fine drum player, and funny as hell.”

  “Yeah, he was. I can believe he got up there and did that. He could play about any instrument you put in his hands and always loved to be center stage. He could sing, too, had a set of killer vocals, but mostly rock songs.” She smiled. “Sometimes he’d break away from the norm and would hit the jazz clubs and take over the scene. Whenever his band did that, I made a point of being there. They put on a show you didn’t want to miss, made it bigger than life. I’ve always favored the big band brass and sass—Geordie, too. My mother swore the two of us were born in the wrong decade.” She sipped her coffee and looked over the rim at him with enormous green eyes. “So, was that why you were in the cemetery?”

  “Yes and no.”

  She furrowed her brow.

  “Actually, I was looking for you.”

  “In the cemetery?”

  “I didn’t know your first name, only that Geo had a twin sister. I tried searching for you in the phone book, but do you have any clue how many Daniels there are in the Boston area and outlying towns?”

  “So you went to the cemetery on the anniversary of his death, hoping to find me.”

  “Geo said you were close. I figured you’d show. Got tired of waiting, decided to have a drink in his honor, and one thing led to another. I must have fallen asleep on the roof. When I came to, it was dark, and I felt like playing.”

  “Yeah, if you call that playing. So….” She leaned forward, holding his gaze. “Why were you looking for me again?”

  “Yeah, that would be because of the letter. I guess Geo made arrangements for us to meet before he died. It’s in the saddlebags on my bike.”

  She perked up. “Geordie wrote you a letter?”

  “No, it came from a Madame Eve, who runs a business called 1Night Stand. There are tickets to a party at the Castillo Hotel in downtown Boston tonight. A big band era bash.”

  “One-night stand. What?”

  Frank put his hand up. “I know what you’re thinking, but I’d like to take you, regardless where it does or doesn’t go. Geo went out of his way, and according to the invitation, to a great deal of expense to set us up. Let’s not disappoint him. I’d like to honor his request. Come dance with me. We’ll have a good time and remember Geo while we’re at it. When else do you get to dress in forties clothes and cut loose?”

  Her face bore a wary expression. “I want to see this letter first.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t get one.”

  “I….” Her gaze shifted over to a pile of mail on her table. She got up, walked over to the stack and began to sift through it, stopping on an ivory envelope with gold trim, a twin to the one he’d received. She set her coffee cup down and held it up. “This?”

  “That’s what mine looks like.”

  She stroked her finger along the embossed print and tapped it on the table before tossing it back down. “Okay. It’s a date.” She turned to him and smiled. “I have to go for a run. Why don’t you hop in the shower? I’ve left a new toothbrush by the sink, and I apologize for the girly soap ahead of time. It’s all I’ve got. Once I get back, we’ll go get your bike.” She grabbed an MP3 player, plugged her headphones into her ears, and went out the front door.

  Frank threw the blanket off and hustled to the window to watch her run away. His cock began to throb. “Okay, Gracie. It’s a date, and I’m going to make it a night you won’t forget.” He turned and moved for her bathroom.

  ***

  Grace jogged down the street, her mind racing. Where had Geordie gotten the money to pay for the date? Frank said it had been expensive. Was that why he’d sold his Camaro? He’d claimed it was because he was always deployed and couldn’t enjoy it. Had he used the money to set up this date? That rat bastard. It would be like him to waste a pile of money on something like that.

  She’d yell at him if she could, but even if he were alive, he wouldn’t listen. Frank seemed like a nice enough guy when sober, and he shared her love of big band music, even played a trumpet. Yeah, the sample she’d received wasn’t great, but if the Army had him playing for heroes’ funerals, he must be really good when not shit-faced.

  For the life of her, she didn’t know why she’d agreed to this one-night stand. Certainly not to get laid, not that the thought didn’t appeal. It had been a while since she had, and the guy wasn’t anyone she’d kick out of bed. Still, it felt weird, going out on a date with her brother’s buddy. But then again, maybe setting this up was his way of telling her he’d approved of Frank.

  At this point, she could only guess. So, she told herself she did this for her brother, to honor his memory on this anniversary of his death. She’d go out with his friend, someone he liked and trusted. That’s what Geordie would have wanted. He’d certainly be pissed if he knew she’d been crying over his grave. That so wasn’t his style. This date, the music and party, that’s the way Geordie liked to cut loose.

  But what to wear? She didn’t have any of those twirly skirts she used to wear to the jazz concerts, had gotten rid of all the dresses. She did have the heels though. The shoes’ style was very 40s retro. Red heels, red panties, and she’d set the night ablaze.

  With a good dancer, she could really tear up the dance floor, and maybe that had been Geordie’s game. He knew how she loved it.

  She stopped in the middle of the street. Shit. She had to get the shoes back from Maggie.

  ***

  Frank picked up his phone and dialed the directory. “Boston. Florist shops. Thanks.” He let them dial. As soon as a friendly voice said Good morning, Boston Florals, he spoke up. “My name is Frank Winters. I’d like to order a dozen—red. Have them delivered to the Castillo Hotel. Thanks. Yeah, got it right here.” He pulled out his wallet and read her his credit card. Next he dialed the number for the Castillo from a business card he’d tucked away. “Can I get the name of the band playing tonight? I appreciate it.” Frank smiled and hung up, stuffing the phone in his pocket. He’d showered, changed, and left a note for Grace that he’d be back to pick her up for the date later.

  Only one last thing to do. Wash her car before she got back. He looked under the sink, found a bucket, some cleaning solution, and headed outside. Three steps into the sunlight, Frank froze as he stared at the squad car.

  She was a police officer? That might be why he’d had that dream about being cuffed to the bed. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Not good. What had he said to her while intoxicated? Certainly his drunken mind would have concocted something sordid. He’d always loved women in unifo
rm, and seeing her had to have triggered some response. His imagination ran wild with the possibilities, none of them good.

  Since he was here, and she hadn’t hauled him in, he couldn’t have been too vulgar. Well, he could do one thing to help the situation. He squinted, shielding his eyes from the bright light, and headed for the mess he’d made.

  Fifteen minutes later, the vinyl flooring in her car was spotless, the smell gone, and he’d taken the extra step to wash the exterior. Thanks to the whiskey, he didn’t have a clue how much he had to make up for. It was better to start making up for it now. What a stupid thing he’d done.

  Nothing to be proud of. He’d made a hell of a mess and it was amazing he hadn’t ended up in jail. The woman had the patience of a saint. It was hard to believe a woman like that would be single. Lucky him, Geo thought to fix him up with his sister. Hell knew he wouldn’t have had the courage to ask her out himself, and best buddies didn’t date their friend’s sister. With a press of his thumb, he called a cab to take him to the cemetery.

  As Frank tucked his phone away, he felt he was being watched and looked up. Across the street, a curtain was drawn back and an old woman with fluffy white hair like a giant cotton ball, peered out. That would be the neighborhood watch. He lifted his hand and waved. The curtain dropped shut. Wait until he came to pick Grace up; he’d really give her something to gawk at. The Castillos had gone all out, hiring 1940s limos from all over the country to bring their guests to the party. There’d be chatter for weeks in the retirement homes.

  Chapter Three

  “You have a date to a forties swing party?” Maggie started laughing. “Omigod. Could this guy be any more perfect for you? I can’t wait. We’ll give you one of those finger waves, no, a Veronica Lake up-do. We have to go shopping, hit the thrift shops. You’ll need a dress. We can take a grease pencil and draw lines down the back of your legs like they used to when nylon was rationed, and there’s got to be some vintage—”