My Sinful Temptation: A novella in the Sinful Men series

by Blakely, Lauren

  He wasn’t asking me to stay, but a long-distance relationship made more sense anyway.

  It was more logical.

  More doable.

  It was incredibly possible, and I felt a little lighter, a little better knowing he might want it too.

  Part of me was terrified to ask for more, knowing that more could lead to heartbreak. But it might also lead to something wonderful.

  I swallowed down my fear.

  “So do you want to try a long-distance relationship?” I asked, putting it out there, because that was the only way to know.

  His smile spread nice and easy, just the way I liked it. “Funny that you asked, because I was going to suggest the same thing.”

  Okay, I was a little bit giddy now.

  Even more so when he threaded his fingers through my hair and drew me close for a kiss.

  When the kiss ended, I took a breath, straightening my shoulders.

  “I’ll stake out some interesting eateries for us to try when you visit,” I said, trying to make this as normal as possible. To think of this as the beginning of long-distance John and Mindy and not the end of Las Vegas John and Mindy. “And we can go to our old favorites when I come here.”

  John grabbed a dumpling. “It’s cute how you think we’re going to leave the bedroom when you visit.”

  “We’re going to need nourishment at some point.”

  “There is nothing you can’t get delivered in Vegas. It’s gotta be the same in New York. Maybe even more so.”

  I’d run through all the scenarios already—it would be harder for him to get away, so I might have to do more of the traveling. And as much as I loved the sexy times—and, oh hell, did I love them—we weren’t hormone-driven teenagers. Phone calls and FaceTime could hold us between visits.

  “On the subject of places for things to be delivered . . .”

  John raised his brows as I overstretched the segue, but he waited for me to go on.

  “I’ve decided to hold on to my condo and sublease it for now.” I kept my tone casual, but it was a pretty big signal—if he wanted to see it. I tried not to search for any clues to his reaction. I wanted cautious optimism, to match my own feelings, but as long as it wasn’t outright rejection, I could work with it.

  After a thoughtful beat, he said, “So you’ve decided not to decide yet?”

  Oh, he had me pegged. I laughed at myself, and at how he’d deciphered my reasoning a lot quicker than I had deciphered it myself.

  “New York is just a step on the ladder. I’m not sure yet where the next step will be. Maybe I’ll get this hotel property set up and running smoothly, and then move on to another one in a few years.”

  And who was to say that might not be in Vegas?

  That was what I wanted to get across without putting pressure on him by saying it straight-out.

  For a man with such a stoic demeanor, there were all kinds of things going on in his expression. Things I couldn’t fully read but desperately wanted to. So desperately that I was afraid I’d see what I wanted whether it was there or not.

  “Mindy . . .” He reached for me again, sliding his hand to the back of my neck.

  His phone rang before he could finish. Which was a shame, since it looked like it would be something good.

  He let go of my hand and pulled out his cell. His grimace when he saw the screen was a shame too, for a different reason. There wasn’t enough panic for it to be Sophie in labor. That meant work was on the line.

  He’d once said the quiet since closing the Thomas Paige case was like waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  I was pretty sure I heard a thunk.

  “Go ahead,” I said with a smile to reassure him. “I’m not going to make a dash for it while you’re on the call.”

  “Hopefully it’s something small.” Then into the phone, he said, “Winston here.”

  I caught a few words—ten million, found unconscious, APB, and outgoing flights. That wasn’t trivial.

  It was sounding less trivial every minute. Finally, he hung up, and I wasn’t surprised when he said, “I have to go.”

  “Of course you do, John.” I’d already signaled the server for the check and moved my napkin from my lap to the table. “The waiter is bringing the check, but if you need to leave right away, I can wait on it and call for an Uber to get home.”

  He was quickly locking into work mode—I imagined his mind was already at the crime scene—but he registered the offer and came back to the moment with a crooked smile that made everything in me clench. “It’s not so urgent that I’d be off the hook if I skipped out on the bill.”

  Then that hint of humor vanished. He paid the server in cash, and we headed out, his hand on my lower back like he didn’t realize he was keeping contact with me as long as possible.

  When we were outside, he finished a quick text then turned to me. “I can drive you home, at least.”

  I shook my head. “I’ll feel better if you just go ahead.”

  He grimaced. “You didn’t want to stay at your condo tonight.” He took out his keys, starting to pull one off. “Here. Go to my place. I might still make it back before morning.”

  I frowned, but not for myself. “That bad, huh?”

  Running a hand through his hair, he said, “Yeah. No one killed, thank God, but a hell of a lot of money gone and a couple of casino owners out for blood. FBI is already sniffing around. It’s going to open a whole can of worms, and I’m really sorry—”

  “John.” I caught his hand because I needed him to hear this. “I was military, remember? I know all about drop everything and go.” I pressed his hand between mine, then stretched up to kiss him gently. “I understand. Though I think I’ll stay at my place tonight. Now, go do your thing.”

  He trailed his hands down my body and took a step back.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “You’d better.”

  Then he was gone—first mentally, like he’d flipped a switch to focus on the task ahead, and then the rest of him, heading to his car at a jog.

  I watched him as I reached into my purse for my phone to call for a ride. I’d glimpsed his quickly hidden surprise when I didn’t freak out about him bailing on me. But truthfully, I couldn’t imagine getting bent about him doing his job, doing what he had to do. If he wasn’t somebody who would pay his tab and jet when he was needed, he wouldn’t be the man I’d fallen for.

  * * *

  That was right. Fallen.

  I thought about it all the way home, up to my condo, and then some more as I changed and half-heartedly looked for things to put in either my suitcase or a storage box. I wished I were a last-minute packer. Then at least I’d have the distraction of a packing frenzy while my heart crumbled along with my plans.

  Because as I peered around, the staggering truth of my emotions hit me.

  I loved John. It was a hell of a thing to admit right as I realized my plan for having it all was not feasible. Long-distance John and Mindy were not a viable option for the same reason that I loved him—his devotion, his loyalty, his drive.

  It would be hard enough to coordinate our schedules for weekend visits. Trying to coordinate time together with a variable like crime in Las Vegas? That would be nothing but frustration and misery.

  In Las Vegas, I’d have all of John who didn’t belong to his job and his sense of duty and justice. But moving to New York, I wouldn’t have that much. I would only have a tiny piece of him.

  I never pictured myself as someone who would change her plans for a man. But neither had I pictured myself as someone who wouldn’t adapt. Life was about finding the work-around when shit happened. Happiness was about being your best self, and for the very lucky, that meant bending over backward to keep your partner—that person who made you your best self—around as much and for as long as you could.

  I closed my eyes for another long minute as I sat on my couch in my stripped-down living room, surrounded by boxes marked to move or store, give away
or throw away. When you had to pay to transport or store something, you found out what was actually important to you.

  What you could walk away from, and what was worth any cost.

  John was worth the cost. I wouldn’t walk away from him if he were mine.

  All it would take was a word.

  Stay.

  Just ask me to stay.

  15

  John

  Last night was the kind of night I loved and hated.

  Loved because I absolutely loved my job.

  Hated because some greedy fuckers had lifted more than ten million dollars.

  But hated even more because of how I’d had to leave Mindy.

  And now I needed to figure out what to do with the storm of emotions in my chest.

  My sister set a mug in front of me, and I eyed the steaming liquid. Just when I’d thought life couldn’t look any more bleak. Tea. Fucking tea.

  “Don’t you have any coffee?”

  She patted her belly. “Pregnant, duh.”

  “Did I mention I got an hour of sleep on the couch at the station?”

  “You did.” She sipped from her mug. “Doesn’t make me any less pregnant.”

  “Doesn’t Ryan drink coffee?”

  “He loves me too much to make me smell it when I can’t have it.” Her look said I should take a lesson from that.

  I sighed and sipped the tea. How could a hot beverage taste so girly? Sophie spread polka dots and ruffles like other people spread a cold.

  “So, talk to me,” she said, cupping her mug between her hands. “And explain to me why you’re such an idiot.”

  “I’ve been explaining for the last quarter-hour.”

  “You’ve been telling me that you don’t want Mindy to leave but you don’t want to ask her to stay.”

  Was it wrong to glare daggers at a pregnant woman when that woman was your sister?

  “It isn’t right to ask her to stay. Not when I can’t give her everything. All of me.” I sighed and slumped in my chair. “I’m married to my job. Clichéd, but true.”

  “What did Mindy say when you had to leave last night?”

  I was silent as I tried to remember. I’d taken the call from work. I’d told her I had to go. And she’d said . . .

  Of course you do, John.

  A statement of fact. Not biting or sarcastic.

  I understand. Now, go do your thing.

  And then I’d kissed her and left.

  Sophie, on a roll and not waiting for an answer, set her mug down hard enough to rattle the table. “You did tell her why you weren’t begging her to stay in Las Vegas, right, John? Explained how conflicted you felt about asking someone to share whatever you could spare from your first obligation?”

  “That’s just it.” I pointed at her. “This thing with Mindy was able to grow because I was in the downtime. The lull between cases. But this new case is going to be involved and protracted. And after this, there will be another one. I can’t tell how long there’ll be in between, but I do know the case will always come first.”

  “John.” Sophie leaned onto her elbows and looked me in the eye. “Do you think you’re the only one who has an important job? It’s not like Mindy wouldn’t know what she was in for. She was engaged to a soldier, right? You think she didn’t know she might lose him to something a lot more permanent than an important case? Maybe you need to get over yourself.”

  I gaped at her, realized my mouth was hanging open, and closed it with a click. “That’s why I can’t ask her to take that on again. Cop marriages fall apart all the damned time. Plus, there’s the inherent risk in the job. And then there’s what’s best for her. This job in New York is a life-changing opportunity. A write-your-own-ticket kind of deal. That’s important to her, and it’s not fair to ask her to stay.”

  Sophie slid her hand across her kitchen table and covered my hand with hers. Even though her life revolved around Ryan, she’d always made a point of drawing me into it too, so we wouldn’t lose moments like this.

  “You are my brother, and I love you, John. But that’s just baloney. Of course it’s fair to ask her to stay. She can say no.” She patted my hand, and I recognized condescension when I saw it. “I know it seems strange, but a woman can say no to a man.”

  The door clicked, and Sophie called over her shoulder as Ryan walked inside, Ajax bounding by his side. Ryan was sweating, and the dog had his tongue lolling out, looking like they’d just finished a morning run. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

  As the shepherd trundled over to give Sophie a hello lick, Ryan went straight for the sink, pouring a glass of water and downing it quickly. “Of course that’s right, my beautiful peach.”

  I took my turn petting the pooch and eyed Ryan as he set down the glass in the sink. “Do you even know what she’s talking about?”

  “Nope.” He walked over and kissed Sophie’s cheek. “I just know she’s right.”

  My sister smirked at me. “If he wasn’t so smart, I wouldn’t have married him.”

  Ryan ran a palm over her hair. “Seriously though, John? The big secret to a relationship? Never assume. The joke is always that a man can’t read a woman’s mind. But they can’t read ours either.”

  “See?” said Sophie, smiling at her husband. “Such a genius.”

  Ryan leaned into Sophie for another kiss. “Sorry I can’t stay and help you sort out your happy ending, John. I need to shower, then I have a meeting with a client, and he’s paying for this genius.”

  “Go get ’em, tiger.” Sophie rubbed her belly in a soothing circle. “Baby needs a new pair of shoes.”

  I flicked my gaze back and forth between them. That kind of love seemed so reachable and so unattainable at the same damn time.

  Sophie turned back from watching Ryan head down the hall and caught my unguarded expression as the dog slumped to the floor, panting. Her own expression softened, and she took my hand again.

  “All you can do is tell her you love her,” Sophie said, squeezing my fingers. “Don’t assume you know what she wants or that she knows what you want. Talk to each other, be clear about your feelings, and you’ll figure out the rest.”

  “As we go? Just figure it out as we go?” I let my horror at that show in my face, and she flicked the back of my hand with her fingernail. “Ouch!”

  “Suck it up, brother mine.” She leaned her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand, resting the other one on her watermelon belly. “Look at Michael and Annalise. She’s in Paris, for heaven’s sake—a country and an ocean away.”

  “Not the same thing. They live here half the year and there the other half. They’re only apart for a few weeks when they travel for work.”

  “But they figured that out after they said I love you.” She laid her hand on my arm and squeezed. “Everything stops and starts with I love you, John. Set that as your cornerstone and you can build just about anything around it.”

  With those words branded on my brain, I left.

  But the whole way to my car, I replayed her final piece of wisdom.

  It seemed too simple.

  Hell, it was simple.

  It didn’t solve everything, but maybe it solved what mattered most—don’t assume.

  Let the woman know.

  Be honest.

  And then figure out the rest.

  Could I do this?

  As I got in my car, I asked myself one more time if I could.

  And the answer was remarkably easy.

  Mindy was worth it. Oh hell, was she worth it.

  16

  Mindy

  Everything would be all right.

  I had a plan. I’d text John tonight to let him know I’d settled safely in my hotel room. He’d asked me to do that when he messaged this morning at zero dark thirty to say he didn’t know if he’d make it over before I had to leave.

  John: Just in case I can’t get there. But I’ll still try.

  Mindy: Hey, I know you’ll be fielding calls and em
ails from the FBI and all that. I’ll be back in two weeks. We’ll see each other then.

  And then he’d ghosted me.

  I’d grown tired of checking my phone for a response, sending myself a text to check that the system hadn’t crashed, watching the news for any story about a heist. I only cared that my two former places of employment were unaffected, and that I might get a glimpse of John.

  Was that what I was going to do in New York? Follow #casino_heist on Twitter for news, maybe look for a picture of him in a CNN splash photo?

  It was time to get myself together. I closed and locked my suitcase, looked around the tidily stacked boxes, and made sure the lights were off and everything was unplugged.

  I was inventing things to do to delay leaving.

  I closed the door, double-checked the lock, grabbed my suitcase, and headed downstairs.

  When I reached the lobby, John was coming through the doors from the Strip.

  I froze.

  He didn’t.

  He marched over to me and took my suitcase from my hand, not asking, just ordering. “You can’t go anywhere today.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Honestly, I tried to be offended, outraged, indignant. But inside, not even that deep down, I was gleeful and giddy.

  Because he was here.

  Because he’d stopped me from leaving.

  Because he sounded like after-dark John when he growled like that. I wanted nothing more than to hear that growl and know it was for me. All mine.

  He carried my suitcase to the elevator.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  The suitcase hit the floor with a thump as he dropped it and turned to me, putting his hands on my shoulders and running them down to my fingers, then up again to cup the back of my neck.

  “Please stay. I want you to stay. Stay with me because I’m lost without you. Because I love you and I hope to God you’re in love with me too.”