Love Accidental (A Romance Compilation)

by Tia Siren

  I knew I should let it go. It had been a drunken promise made in a moment of weakness. Neither of us had been serious. Right? I shook my head. Wrong. I had been completely fucking serious. I just never imagined I would be sitting across the country wondering if I should hold her to it.

  The walls were closing in on me. Getting out and doing something—anything—was the only way I was going to stop myself from hunting Mia down and demanding she marry me.

  “Hey,” Jaxon said, answering his phone on the third ring. He sounded groggy and I knew right away he was still in bed. “Why are you calling me so early?”

  “It isn’t early. It’s ten.”

  “That’s early when you didn’t go to bed until four,” he said.

  I shook my head. “You’re getting too old for that shit,” I said with exasperation. “You’re going to need to take some vitamins or some shit. One of these days you are going to keel over from exhaustion.”

  “No, I won’t. I’m healthy as a horse. And I have the stamina of a horse by the way,” he added.

  I scoffed. “That’s not what I heard.”

  “Whatever. You’re jealous.”

  “Get up,” I grumbled.

  “I’m already up,” he said, laughter in his voice.

  “Gross. Get out of bed and go to the beach with me.”

  “No.”

  “Get up. Let’s go surfing.”

  “No.”

  I growled. “Jaxon, you can’t sleep all day.”

  “Who said I was sleeping?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Same chick from the other night?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “You need to expand your vocabulary. No wonder I’m the one on the radio and you’re the one pedaling my show. Come on. We’ll go to the beach and you can look for fresh meat,” I said, really not wanting to spend the day alone.

  “I can’t. I have things to do,” he said in that same sly tone.

  I heard a soft moan and held the phone away from my ear. I did not want to hear Jaxon pleasuring a woman. We were friends, but there were some lines I wasn’t prepared to cross.

  “You can do her later. Get up.”

  “No,” he said. “I’ve got to go, unless you want to stay on the line and listen to how a real man takes care of a woman.”

  “Fuck you. No, you pervert,” I said, and I hung up the phone.

  I was going to go stir-crazy if I didn’t get out of the apartment. I didn’t want to stay inside on a gorgeous spring day and stare at the walls. I had to get out. Maybe I could go for a run or do some paddle boarding. I hadn’t done that in a while.

  But not yet. First, I had to satisfy my curiosity. I pulled out my laptop and quickly Googled Mia’s name. Within seconds, her beautiful face was staring back at me. There were pictures of her posing with famous designers at various fashion shows and out and about in the city. I clicked on the professional picture of her and was taken to her biography page at the fashion magazine she worked at.

  I smiled as I read about her accomplishments. My Mia had made it big. I felt an unwarranted sense of pride as I stared at her picture. Damn, she was gorgeous, and from what I could see, single. The years had changed her little. She looked a bit more mature, but hot as hell. I was only pissed the picture was a head shot and not a full-body shot. I went back and scanned the images of her that had been posted on the society pages. I didn’t see any of her with a man on her arm. That had to be a good sign.

  I enlarged a few of the pictures and looked at her wedding ring finger, searching for a ring or signs of a tan line. Nothing. That made me a happy man for no real reason. I should have felt a little bad that she was alone and single in the world. I didn’t. I was a terrible person because it made me happy to know she was somewhere out there waiting for me. Well, she may not have purposely been waiting for me, but I wanted to take advantage of the situation.

  We would both be thirty-five in a matter of months, and a promise was a promise, right? If she was single, I was ready to call and remind her of our pact. We had said we could have affairs in our marriage if the sex was bad, but that wasn’t going to be a problem. The sex had been amazing. It had become the yardstick all other women were measured against. No one could compare to Mia.

  Closing the search engine, I felt a bit like a stalker and headed for the shower. I had to call her. I had to know. I cut my shower short and looked up the number for the offices of Mia’s magazine. It was Saturday morning and it was unlikely she was in, but I had to call. I had to do it before I lost my nerve and carried on with my miserable life while wondering what if.

  I waited, pacing around my living room in just my swim trunks. As expected, her extension went to voice mail. I left a message. I doubted she checked her messages. I didn’t check mine at the station. There were a lot of crazies in the world. I had an assistant who filtered the messages, passing along those that meant something or were worth hearing.

  I had done all I could, and I still had plenty of time to hit the beach before I had to head into work myself. I worked Saturday nights. It was one of my most popular nights on the radio. Dinner with Brad had jumped to the top of the syndicated radio shows.

  Tonight, I was going to be doing dinner with a newcomer to the music scene. I avoided the hip-hop guys and most of the teeny bopper singers. I needed to keep my audience happy, and nobody wanted to hear what those manufactured people had to say. I certainly didn’t.

  After a long day on the water working out all the old frustrations that came along with the realization that I had lost Mia, I was starving. Thankfully, part of the Dinner with Brad format was that various restaurants and food truck owners catered the show.

  “Hey,” I said, greeting Tina as I strolled into the office.

  “You’re going to love the dinner for tonight. It’s right up your alley: healthy cardboard-tasting something or other.”

  I laughed. “I love me a good piece of cardboard. A little ketchup makes it all taste good.”

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s disgusting you look as good as you do, but I am not about to give up steak and potatoes just so I can have a smoking-hot body,” she said.

  I winked. “Tina, you already have a smoking-hot body.”

  She laughed. It was a joke between us. The woman looked amazing. No one would ever know she had three little kids at home.

  “Is my guest here?” I asked.

  She nodded. “In the green room. He wasn’t real excited about the low-carb, gluten-free, dairy-free bullshit you are serving for dinner. He’s in there eating a real pizza.”

  I cringed. I was not a dairy-free guy. I did like to keep my carb intake low, but after the workout I put in today on the paddle board, I could have used some carbs.

  “I think I’m going to see if he’ll share with me,” I said with a grin.

  “Want me to order you something?” she asked, stepping right into the role of doting mama.

  “I’ll be okay. Is the catered dinner pizza?”

  “If you can call it that,” she mumbled.

  “I’ll eat a slice like a dutiful host and then grab something to eat on my way out. I think I have a protein bar in my office.”

  She nodded. “You got a new case in today from some company up north.”

  “Awesome!”

  I loved the freebies I got from various healthy and natural food companies. Part of my shtick was my healthy eating. I tried out a lot of the latest health-food trends and gave my honest opinion. Companies wanted me to give their product my seal of approval. When I did, they would see spikes in sales. If I didn’t like a food, I didn’t say it on the air but instead had my assistant send a note explaining I didn’t feel comfortable promoting the item.

  Sadly, that happened a lot.

  “How are the kids?” I asked as we walked down the hallway toward my office.

  “Brats. Cutest brats you will ever meet, though.”

  I laughed. I knew how much she loved her kids. She had brought them to the station a
few times. The little wrecking balls were definitely energetic. I had decided that was how she managed to stay in good shape. Chasing the little monsters would be very good exercise.

  “I’ll admit, they are pretty cute.”

  “When are you going to settle down, Brad? You’re not getting any younger. Unless you plan on being one of those old rich guys who buys a trophy wife.”

  That hit home. That was exactly the way my life was headed if I didn’t make some changes. I couldn’t let her know that though. I had an image to uphold.

  “I can’t settle down. I’ve only conquered about half of Los Angeles. I’ve still got the outlying areas!”

  “You’re so full of shit. Why do guys always have to pretend like they enjoy being players? Jaxon is an exception to the rule. That man is shallow and can’t handle more than three weeks with the same woman. You’re different, Brad,” she said sincerely.

  “Thank you. I’m glad you think so. I’m not there yet. Maybe someday.”

  She grinned. “I could let you babysit one day, give you a little taste of the parenting life.”

  I grimaced. “Uh, I’m going to say no. Love your kids, but no. Three is three too many. I need them tiny and unmoving.”

  She laughed. “Brad, I hate to tell you, but those tiny ones grow into those adorable little balls of fire I have.”

  I groaned. “Do they have to?”

  “Get ready. You’re on in thirty.”

  I changed in my office, scarfed down one of the protein bars, then headed to the green room to meet my guest. Dinner with Brad had started out as a show that played during the five to eight dinner hours. It grew and evolved into what it was today. I loved every minute of it. I loved talking to millions of people, knowing they were hanging on my every word. I had the power to make them laugh or make them think about issues they may not have even known about. It was a heady feeling to know you could influence people with such ease without ever having met them.

  Shit. I was becoming an egomaniac. Hell, maybe I already was.

  Chapter Six

  Mia

  My assistant dropped off my schedule for the day and casually told me there was a rather personal message on my voice mail. That was odd. Anyone who knew me had my cell number. I picked up the phone, and the blood drained from my face as I listened to the message.

  “No way,” I breathed out. “No way!”

  I pushed the button to save the message and then immediately replayed it.

  “Seriously?”

  I replayed the message for the third time. My brain had rejected it the first two times.

  Brad Jones? That was a blast from the past. He actually thought I was going to follow through with his marriage pact idea? The man had lost his damn mind. We had been foolish kids back then. Well, not technically kids, but twenty-four felt like a lifetime ago. I felt as if a hundred years had passed since then. The man was out of his fucking mind if he thought he could call me out of the blue and expect me to drop everything and take him up on his stupid offer.

  No way. Not happening.

  I laughed into air of my empty office. The guy had to be out of his damn mind if he thought he could pick up the phone and call me after eleven years and I would just jump into bed with him. Not just jump into bed—he actually thought we would get married. It was good to see his sense of humor was still intact.

  I sighed and leaned back in my fancy chair. I hated him. The man had broken my heart. He didn’t know he did, but that didn’t change the fact. I had been in love with him for years, and when he left without saying good-bye or calling, it had hurt. It pissed me off that it had hurt so badly, and I spent a good five years getting over him.

  Plus, I felt like I should point out that I wasn’t yet thirty-five. I still had another six months before I turned thirty-five. There was a chance I would find a man and fall head over heels in love. It could happen.

  “Mia?” I looked up to see my assistant standing there.

  “What?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I muttered.

  She didn’t look convinced. “I thought I heard you talking to someone.”

  “Nope. Just the phone.”

  “Okay,” she said, closing the door behind her.

  She obviously thought I was losing my mind. I was. Brad certainly was. I wasn’t going to let him get away with lobbing this curveball at me out of the blue and then going back to his regularly scheduled life. He had done that once and I’d let it happen. He had thrown me for a loop. I’d waited and waited for him to call. He never did. No text or anything. He had fucked me and left me. Wham, bam, thank you ma’am, as they said.

  I blocked all thoughts of Brad from my mind. My day was packed; Brad could wait. The asshole had waited eleven years. Eight more hours wouldn’t kill him. There was no way I was going to call from my office. Gossip and fashion went hand in hand. If anyone happened to overhear me talking to a man about having a baby, good God, the gossip would run rampant.

  By the time I got home after a long day of interviews and researching, I finally decided I would call him back. I had changed my mind at least twelve times throughout the day, but I was not going to let him get the last word.

  First, though, I needed a glass of wine to give me that last bit of courage I needed to make the call. I downed the first glass and poured the second.

  My stomach was flipping, rolling, and jumping all over as I dialed the number.

  “Hello?” His smooth voice drifted through the phone.

  Fuck. His voice was like sex in a bottle. It was smooth, a deep baritone with just the perfect amount of annunciation. I could practically feel warm honey pouring over my body.

  “Mia?”

  I blinked. He knew it was me. I couldn’t form words.

  “Mia? Is that you?” he asked.

  In an instant, it was as if the veil lifted from my eyes. Everything cleared. I remembered what I had repeated over and over in my head all day.

  “Brad, did you honestly call me about that stupid pact?” I seethed.

  He laughed. The man actually laughed. “Well, I am thirty-five.”

  “You are. I’m not,” I reminded him.

  “You will be.”

  I took a deep breath. “Brad, how long has it been since you called me?”

  “I’m sorry. Really sorry.”

  “Sorry doesn’t really make up for it, now does it? I can’t believe you think I would honor your pact when you couldn’t even honor one simple promise,” I said.

  He was quiet for a moment. I could hear him breathing and waited for him to say something—anything.

  “Mia, I know I fucked up. I did. It was stupid. I was young and dumb and wasn’t thinking straight. I know what I said, and after what happened between us, I—”

  “Don’t say it. You said it wouldn’t get weird and it did. That wasn’t cool, Brad.”

  Another long sigh. “I know. I meant to call, and then I got out here and it was all unpacking and going to work. The days just ran together.”

  I scoffed. “Gee, I can see I was a big priority. You got in my pants and vanished. Typical. Very typical. It was my fault for believing you were different. I should have known better.”

  “I am different. I mean, I was different. It wasn’t like that at all. You know that.”

  The old me wanted to believe him. His honeyed voice was making it hard for me to stay mad. “I don’t know that.”

  “Mia, I was an ass, a complete and total dick. I shouldn’t have done that. I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to call you. I didn’t know what to say. Then every day I waited, it just got worse.”

  I could hear his sincerity. I wanted to believe him. I did believe him, but that didn’t make it better.

  “Fine. How’ve you been?” I asked, hoping to act like a friend.

  “I’ve been good. I’ve got my own show—syndicated. Things are going well.”

  “Good, good. I’m happy for you.”


  “What about you? How’ve you been?”

  I smiled. “I’ve been really good. I’m a columnist for a fashion magazine, which you obviously know since you called me there.”

  He chuckled. “Yes. I’ll admit I did a little stalking. I was curious about you. You haven’t Googled me?”

  “No,” I lied. Technically, it wasn’t a lie. I hadn’t Googled him recently.

  “Liar.”

  “Once, a long time ago,” I admitted.

  “I knew it. You missed me.”

  “Brad,” I warned.

  “I’m really happy for you, Mia. I knew you would end up being really successful. Do you live in the city?”

  I had planned to keep the conversation short and sweet, but hearing his voice made me want to talk. I missed the conversations we used to have late at night. We had talked about everything: our hopes, our dreams, and our fears. He had always been an excellent listener. All the qualities I loved about him had made him into one of the top radio hosts in the country. Everyone else was benefiting from his easy charm and soothing personality. I was a little jealous.

  “I have a condo in the Garment District. Manhattan,” I clarified, hoping it didn’t sound like I was bragging. I assumed he was wealthy considering his success in radio, but I really had no idea how much that kind of job paid.

  He let out a long whistle. “Damn, you have made it big. Is it a studio?”

  I chuckled. “No. It’s two bedrooms, kind of,” I said, looking around my sparsely furnished home.

  “Kind of?”

  I was only slightly embarrassed by the amount of clothing I had. “I had the second room turned into a closet. So I mean there is still a room, but it’s about half the size it was.”

  He laughed in that cool, easy way he had. “That doesn’t surprise me. So, do you have a bed in your spare room?”

  “No, I don’t. Why?”

  “Because I want to crash at your place.”

  “Brad, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Shh,” he whispered, and I could practically feel his breath washing over my neck. “I want to come and see you.”