There was no way she could go back now. No way she could take another tepid bath. She’d never be able to settle again for less than what he’d just given her—the absolute best damn sex of her life.
ZANE OPENED HIS EYES in the early morning light, suddenly aware of the sound of someone else’s steady breathing. He blinked at the shadows of strange surroundings, for a moment disoriented. And then he remembered. Naomi, their night together, the hot sex—one encounter after another—and falling asleep with her afterward.
Wide awake now, his body warmed at the memories of what they’d done only a few hours earlier. She hadn’t been as hard to please as he’d expected. Instead, she’d been so enthusiastic, so intense, Zane couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed a woman so thoroughly. It was almost scary how right their bodies felt together.
He rolled onto his side and found her sleeping next to him. It took all his willpower not to spoon her body to his and settle back to sleep.
But he had to decide first if he was going to stay or go. Should he wait until she woke up, or slip out now and avoid any awkward morning-after conversations? He hadn’t really intended to spend the night—and she hadn’t invited him—but he’d been so exhausted earlier…
Zane sat up on one elbow and watched Naomi as she slept, admired her pretty profile. And he decided. He’d leave a note, and he’d go. If he stayed, she’d get the wrong idea, and he had the sense she wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of girl.
She’d want something from him he wasn’t prepared to give.
He started to move from the bed, but she rolled over and moaned.
“Hmm?” she said, sounding half-asleep. “Come back to bed.”
Oh, hell. He froze at the edge of the bed, agonizing again. But then she reached for him, her warm hand finding his chest, and his will to resist disappeared. He slid back under the covers.
One more time. He’d make love to her, put her back to sleep, then he’d go.
Zane grabbed a condom from the nightstand, put it on, and pulled Naomi up next to him, spooning his body against the back of hers. Then he slid his hand around her waist and up her rib cage to her breast. He toyed with her nipple until she responded by squirming against him.
“Mmm,” she moaned.
His hand traveled slowly from her breast, down her belly, and between her legs. As his fingers probed her, found her wet and ready, she sighed and squirmed against him some more.
She was awake enough now for him to enter her. He took hold of her hip and pressed his cock against her, thrust inside her slowly, taking his sweet time. He ached from their earlier sex, but in a good way.
Could his body take another round of lovemaking so soon after their marathon a few hours ago? He could sure as hell give it his best try.
8
NAOMI SURVEYED THE PARK as she did her stretches, but Talia was nowhere in sight. For several years, they’d had a standing agreement with their closest girlfriends to meet up every Saturday morning at ten to jog—so long as the weather was decent—but more often than not, Talia and Naomi were the only ones to show.
Today, it looked like Naomi might be jogging solo, and jogging was the last thing she felt like doing after her night with Zane. Muscles she hadn’t used since her girlhood ballet classes were crying out in offense, but still she had nervous energy to burn, and she’d been looking forward to some girl talk.
She continued to stretch and waited at their meeting spot under the oak tree for another ten minutes, then gave up and set off at a slow jog along the paved path, promising herself she’d quit after five minutes if she still didn’t feel motivated.
“Naomi, wait up!” Talia’s voice called from behind her.
Naomi stopped and turned to see her friend, bedecked in shades and jogging attire, running to catch up.
“Late night?” she asked when Talia had fallen in step beside her.
“Something like that.”
“Sorry I missed girls’ night out,” Naomi lied. She couldn’t have been sorry for last night if she’d tried. “But it was for a good cause.”
The cause being the much-needed revitalization of her sex life.
“I missed it, too, actually,” Talia said, slowing from a jog to a walk.
Naomi matched Talia’s pace. “This is a new record low for us—we didn’t even go a full minute.”
Inevitably, their Saturday morning runs degenerated into walk-and-gossip sessions, but usually not this quickly. They could normally hold out for ten or fifteen minutes of jogging before the urge to chat set in and they gave up their charade of being athletic types.
“So what’s the latest gossip?” Talia asked.
“Guess who finally called last night?”
“Not Jackson.”
“I didn’t get his message until today though, because I was otherwise engaged all night.”
“Doing what?”
“I’ll get to that later. First, tell me what this means. Jackson says he’s sorry and that he wants to see me again.”
“That means nothing. He screwed up, and he’s groveling. So what?”
“I don’t know.” Naomi had been confused all morning, ever since hearing Jackson’s voice on her answering machine—only minutes after Zane had walked out her door. “Should I call him back?”
“Absolutely not!”
“You’re right, and after what happened last night, there shouldn’t be a doubt in my mind.”
“If you don’t tell the whole story—”
“I want to get this Jackson thing off my mind first, then the good stuff.”
She didn’t want Jackson back—she was ninety percent sure of that. But the high she’d felt from her night with Zane, from going after what she wanted and getting it, disappeared when she’d heard Jackson’s voice on her machine. It was as though with one measly phone call, he’d managed to wipe away all the progress she’d made.
“What did I tell you about second-guessing your decision?” Talia said.
“You’re right, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s just been a crazy week, I guess, and he waited to call until after I’d given up any hope of him calling so I could tell him off again.”
“It’s a guy thing. Even when they’re wrong, they won’t call when we want them to.”
Whatever. She just needed to forget about Jackson. He was a dead end.
“Okay, you’re wearing your partied-too-hard-last-night shades, and you were twenty minutes late getting here—what gives?”
Talia sighed. “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”
“I would believe anything.”
“I was up half the night frustrated—completely unable to sleep—because I tried to have a booty call of my own, and all the guy wanted to do was talk.”
“You’re right. I don’t believe it. Who’s the lucky boy?”
“Let’s just say he’s someone I absolutely do not intend to spend the night with ever again—naked or otherwise.”
Naomi’s curiosity was piqued. It wasn’t like Talia to be coy about such matters, and if she wasn’t willing to talk, that meant all attention would turn to Naomi’s dirty little secret.
Talia’s walking pace quickened the more they talked, and that’s how Naomi knew how stressed-out her friend was. She normally wouldn’t have moved so fast for anything that didn’t involve sex or chocolate.
“So what did you and the mystery guy talk about all night?”
“We didn’t. Once I realized I wasn’t going to get laid, I left.”
Naomi sighed. “Your life is so full of romance. It’s really inspiring.”
Talia laughed. “Spare me the sarcasm. You’re avoiding the important issue here, which is what you were doing last night.”
Naomi was torn between wanting to spill every exhilarating detail and wanting to keep her slightly shameful behavior private. But if she didn’t spill, she’d face Talia’s nagging about finding herself a booty call guy.
“I met a guy, too,” she final
ly said, a grin spreading across her face. “And we did everything but talk.”
Talia stopped in her tracks, her mouth gaping open. “You? Had sex on a first date?”
“You heard it here first.”
She shook her head and began walking again, her pace slower now. “I guess you were even more ready for a booty call than I thought you were.”
“Stop acting so shocked. You make me sound like a prude.”
“So did you come?”
“You know how to cut to the chase, that’s for sure. Could you just let me tell the story at my own speed?” Naomi tried to sound annoyed, but she couldn’t help smiling.
It was the most interesting story she’d had to tell in months—years, even—and she wasn’t going to rush through a single detail of it. But Talia was not known for her patience.
“Okay, okay. But I want to hear about any orgasms that may have occurred before we make our second lap around the park.”
“I’ll give you a little sneak preview—I’m definitely not frigid. But speaking of second laps, we’re not doing very well with our recent resolution to do more jogging and less chatting.”
“Screw jogging.”
“I need to go shopping for a swimsuit soon. I don’t want it to be a traumatic experience.”
Talia waved away her concerns. “It’s all about the attitude. If you think you look beautiful, you’ll carry yourself confidently, and you will look beautiful. That’s all there is to it.”
“Tell that to my thighs. Maybe we should meet here again tomorrow morning to make up for our transgressions today.”
“If it’ll make you feel better…” Talia said as they were passed by a couple of teenagers in-line skating.
“I’m not ready to reveal the identity of my Friday-night companion, either, so don’t even bother asking.”
Talia cast a speculative glance at her. “I remember you mentioned that journalist you were hoping to snag as a client. That gorgeous one?”
“Like you said, he’s a possible client.”
“It’s him, isn’t it!”
“Didn’t I just say not to bother asking?”
“Oh, you can be such a stick in the mud.”
“All you need to know is, last night, I had the best sex of my life.”
Talia squealed. “You had an orgasm, didn’t you?”
Naomi’s smile widened, but she stared straight ahead. The news was almost too good to put into mere words. Now she understood why there were so many songs about sex.
“No. I had many orgasms. I could be the spokeswoman for multiple orgasms after last night.”
Talia’s jaw dropped, and she stared at Naomi with unabashed shock. “This is excellent news! I need details about this guy, though—the more lurid, the better.”
“There’s not much to tell. He’s sexy and talented in bed.”
“Naomi, you’re a lousy liar.”
“I’m not lying. For once, I really don’t know that much about the guy I slept with. I guess you could say this was my first official booty call.”
“Well, I’m proud of you, then.”
“Sorry I couldn’t meet your guy Ken last night, but now you see why.”
Talia made a strange noise in her throat. “He’s the guy I was with—or not with—last night.”
“Wow, Booty Call Ken refused to live up to his name?”
They fell silent as they passed a couple of moms pushing jogging strollers, and Naomi realized with a pang just how far off course she’d gotten in her life from where she’d thought she’d be at her age.
Five years ago, she’d imagined she’d be the one pushing the jogging stroller, that she’d be married and have her first baby before the age of thirty. And here she was, nowhere close. Instead, she was still trying to figure out how to have both good sex and a great relationship, and so far, no luck.
“Can you believe it? He just wanted to talk. I’m completely disillusioned now.”
“How bad could talking to him be? Maybe it would even make the sex more intense,” she said when they’d left the moms behind.
“I’m not sticking around to find out. I crossed him out of my address book with a black marker this morning.” Talia’s voice had taken on a brittle edge. “Booty Call Ken has morphed into Let’s Talk and Get to Know Each Other Ken, and it’s a crime against horny women everywhere.”
Naomi tried not to laugh. “That sounds kind of refreshing, actually.”
“Right, I want to get laid and he wants to chat. That’s about as refreshing as July in Georgia.”
“Oh, come on. Don’t you find it even a little bit charming that a guy wants to get to know the real you?”
“Not at all,” Talia insisted, but Naomi had a sneaking suspicion she was putting on an act.
Years ago, before she and Talia became close friends, Talia had let her guard down with a guy, and he’d turned out to be the wrong one. She never discussed the details, but ever since, she’d slowly grown more and more callous about relationships. And the average male behavior didn’t help matters.
“Well, I hope Booty Call Ken finds a nice girl who’s willing to talk to him.”
Talia shook her head. “It’s like you and I have switched places here. I accidentally hooked up with a real date, and you’ve had your first booty call.”
They had switched places, Naomi realized, and she wasn’t sure she liked it at all.
ZANE SPENT SATURDAY MORNING at home, vaguely annoyed by his apartment’s emptiness. He tried to focus on work, but his mind kept wandering back to Naomi. Back to their night together, and their morning, and the way she’d felt, the way she’d smelled, the way she’d sounded making love to him.
He wasn’t sure he’d ever met a woman who’d needed a roll in the hay more desperately than Naomi. And he’d given it to her for all he was worth. Again and again…and again.
He’d finally left this morning after waking her up with a goodbye round of sex, making the excuse that he had work to catch up on, because the news didn’t stop on weekends.
Which was true. She didn’t need to know that he had this weekend off.
But he really did have work to do, damn it, and he needed to focus. Jack had left a message on his answering machine about how glad he was to see that Zane had decided to work with Naomi—ha!—but that he wasn’t going to give him any new assignments until Zane had completed his makeover and passed muster with Gil Beringer.
Jack and Gil both could stick it. Zane considered the time off his chance to pursue his own leads. He’d always chafed at being given assignments he wasn’t interested in, anyway. So now, if he could get his mind on the right track, he was free to pursue any stateside story he wanted.
He opened the e-mail program on his computer and downloaded his latest messages, then read the subject lines, deleting all the penile enhancement and refinance-your-house-today ads as he went.
Nothing interesting. He skimmed the old e-mail in his in-box to see if anything required his immediate attention, and one entitled, “America needs to know,” from a sender whose address he didn’t recognize, caught his eye. He opened it and reread the message.
Dear Mr. Underwood,
I know you are a conscientious journalist who regards the truth as a top priority. You will be interested to learn that the highly respected Georgia Senator Atchison Tyler isn’t the man he has led us all to believe he is. If you dig around in his past, you’ll uncover some unsavory behaviors far from befitting a man who wrote a book on moral virtues. Lies, bribery, adultery—he’s not the moral compass he claims to be. Below I’ve included a list of reliable sources and their contact information. I hope you’ll follow the trail to the truth.
The letter was signed “A Concerned Citizen,” but Zane suspected the likely sender was one of Tyler’s political opponents. It was someone who wanted the Senator’s image tarnished without having to do the tarnishing himself, and he’d handed Zane the story on a silver platter.
He’d received the message
over a month ago, but having been researching his Yemen story at the time, he couldn’t have been less interested in following the trail of a domestic political scandal.
Now though, with Jack breathing down his neck and the international scene off-limits to him, what the hell else did Zane have to do? He’d never been much interested in domestic politics, but the story of a politician as high-and-mighty as Atchison Tyler possibly being rotten at the core had its appeal.
He stared at the computer screen, mulling over his options, and after a few seconds, he knew. He’d pursue this lead. Not only did it have the advantage of being at least mildly interesting, but it was the kind of ratings-grabber Mediacom loved to break. He could get back in Jack’s good graces and maybe return to doing the kind of reporting he loved.
But where to start? Zane didn’t have a lot of connections in national politics. It was odd that this unknown tipster had even thought of him as the journalist to contact, unless…
Unless they’d sent the tip to other journalists, too. The scattershot method. It was possible, because Zane could think of a dozen journalists offhand who would have been a more logical choice than him for this story.
That meant, if he wanted to be the one to break it, he’d have to act fast.
He opened a new word-processing document and began brainstorming possible people to contact, avenues to pursue, questions to ask. After fifteen minutes, he’d formed a plan of attack and decided on his first course of action.
To begin with, he needed to e-mail this anonymous person and ask for more details. Likely they’d never answer, but his motto was that it never hurt to ask. Zane clicked Reply and started typing.
He managed to focus on work for an entire hour before Naomi invaded his thoughts again, and when she did, he realized something had to give. Either he had to put her out of his mind completely, or he had to see her again.
Since they were obligated to work together for a short while, the choice was obvious. He had to see her again, sooner rather than later. Preferably today.
He picked up his phone and dialed her number. When she answered, he smiled at the sound of her voice.
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