Forbidden Attraction: A Contemporary Romance Box Set

by K. C. Crowne

  It took damn near an hour to get through customs and grab my bags from the baggage claim. People, anxious to get home or wherever they were going, jostled and pushed, screamed and cursed each other out. It seemed like everybody in the terminal was on edge, so I stepped to the side and waited until the herd thinned enough that I felt like I could grab my bags and not get trampled by the mob.

  When I finally had my bags in hand, I headed out of the terminal to the transport area. I hadn’t wanted to bother Anna with picking me up given that it was the middle of the day and she was working. So I’d planned to just grab a shuttle or a cab back to my apartment.

  When I got to the loading area, I saw a couple of blue vans and wandered down to them. The driver, a burly Hispanic man was busy tossing bags into the back –rather carelessly. I really hoped his passengers didn’t have anything fragile in their luggage.

  “Excuse me?” I said.

  The man turned and looked at me, then went right back to loading the bags without uttering a single syllable. Annoyance flashed through me and I scowled at the man.

  “Yeah, hi,” I said again. “Still standing right here.”

  The man blew out an irritated breath and turned to me. “What?”

  “I need a shuttle.”

  He rolled his eyes and shook his head. I was tired, hungry, stressed out, and it was all I could do to keep from slapping the man upside the head.

  Finished tossing the bags into the van, he slammed the doors and stared at me. His pale acne scarred face was coated in a sheen of sweat. His dark hair fell in wet, greasy strands down his face, and his uniform shirt was stained and soaking wet under the arms – which was odd since it wasn’t even that hot out.

  “You got a reservation?” he snapped.

  “Well, no,” I admitted.

  “Then you’re not getting in my van.”

  “Come on. Your van’s not even half full,” I growled. “There is plenty of room.”

  “No reservation, no ride,” he shot back. “Call an Uber.”

  Without another word, the man turned and walked to driver’s side door, flung it open and jumped behind the wheel. He slammed the door and I could see him staring at me in the side mirror. As he pulled away from the curb a little too fast given the thick traffic surrounding the airport, the son of a bitch was laughing.

  Rage burning through me, I noted the van number on the rear door and quickly hopped on social media to blast the guy, detailing the experience. When that didn’t quite sate my blood lust, I huffed and sat down on the bench behind me, frustrated beyond all belief.

  I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose, doing my best to stave off the pounding headache that was threatening to make the rest of my day miserable. I hated airports. They were busy, loud, dirty, and just plain sucked. And with my job, I’d been through enough of them to be an authority on it.

  I thought back to my time in Paris with Colin and took deep breaths to try and calm myself. But it didn’t quite work. The simple fact was that even though we’d agreed that our time together would be finite and uncomplicated, I’d fallen for him. And I was upset about the fact that I’d just left him with basically a handshake and a “see ya around.”

  What I’d had with Colin went beyond the physical and I’d felt it the moment we’d slept together. Something about him resonated with me. He was charming, funny, intelligent, and still closed off enough to give me that tantalizing mystery I craved. . Not to mention he was hot as hell and fucked like it was his job.

  I let out a breath and gave my head a little shake, trying to clear it of everything currently cycling through it. Colin was in the past and I had to make peace with that. Like we joked while we were over there – we would always have Paris. It was a beautiful city, I’d had an amazing time with a gorgeous man, and I had a lot of fun. Plus, I got all I needed for my article and then some.

  So from that perspective, my mission had been accomplished.

  But that little fairy tale was over, and I needed to move forward. Despite it being a fantastic diversion that got me to stop thinking about my ex for a while, and giving me a lot of incredible memories, it was time to get back to reality.

  Sadly enough, reality was dictating that I had a to-do list that was about a mile long. I let out a long breath and started to triage my list, trying to put it in some semblance of order from most urgent to things that could be kicked down the road a little while. Given the sheer volume of things on that list, putting them in order wasn’t the easiest task in the world.

  First and foremost, I needed to get into the pharmacy and get the morning after pill. That was a must. Second, I needed to write up the article as fast as possible. My editor had sent me roughly three thousand texts while I was on the plane, all of them hitting my inbox at once the second I powered my phone back on. the text alert had gone off like I’d hit a jackpot on a slot machine in Vegas.

  Some of her texts were ideas for new pieces, others were suggestions for refining the slant of the current piece, but the majority were texts asking me where my piece was. Technically, I should have written it up and sent it in before I even left Paris, but I’d been having too good of a time with Colin to worry about it.

  It wasn’t technically due until the next day, so my plan had been to write it up as soon as I got home.

  I spent about ten minutes on that bench organizing and prioritizing my to-do list and making some notations on my phone. As I did it, I grinned to myself, realizing a little bit of Colin must’ve rubbed off on me.

  I couldn’t help but smile at the thought, but then immediately shook it from my head. I was not going to be that gushy girl. It wasn’t me. “Jesus Christ, what in the hell is wrong with me?” I groaned.

  “Given that you’re sitting there talking to yourself, I’d say you’ve lost your mind.”

  I whipped my head up and found myself staring into the face of an older man with a kind face. He was grinning at me and chuckling to himself.

  “It’s okay, I talk to myself sometimes too,” he said lightly. “It’s when you start answering yourself that you have to worry.”

  “Haven’t gone quite that far off the deep end yet,” I said and offer a shaky smile.

  I’d been so caught up in my head that I hadn’t even heard him take a seat next to me on the bench. I really needed to get my head out of my ass and get in gear. It was going to be a long day and if I didn’t get the lead out, it was going to be a longer night. The thought of spending the entire night mainlining caffeine after being on a plane for eleven hours and crossing God knows how many different time zones sounded wholly unappealing.

  But that was exactly what I was going to have to do unless I got my butt off the bench and got moving. Pulling up the Uber app on my phone, I called for a car. I’d wanted to take the shuttle since it would have been cheaper, but time was more of the essence now.

  After another forty-five minutes of waiting, the car finally arrived and took me home. I lugged my bags up the stairs and dropped them in front of the door of my second-floor apartment, then started to fish my keys out of my bag. I cringed when I heard the door behind me open, not wanting to chat with Mrs. Wilkins but not seeing any way out of it at that point.

  “Oh Hope dear, welcome home,” the elderly lady said.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Wilkins. Good to be home. I’m just completely bushed. Totally jet lagged and exhausted,” I replied, hoping she’d take the hint.

  “I went to Paris once when I was around your age, actually. Which was an awful long time ago,” she cackled.

  Clearly, she wasn’t taking the hint. I felt bad for her. Mrs. Wilkins was a widow and didn’t have many friends and spent her days alone watching TV or sitting at her window watching the world go by. It was a lonely existence, so I always made time for her when I could. Sometimes I’d invite her over for tea or lunch. I’d take her to the store and did what I could to make her feel not so alone.

  There were times like today though, when all I wanted was t
o go inside, grab a quick shower, change my clothes, run my errands, and sit down to work. I had to get the article done tonight.

  I wanted to tell Mrs. Wilkins all of that and that I unfortunately didn’t have time for socializing today, but the way she stood there looking at me, her eyes wide and her smile warm, I knew I wasn’t going to get out of it that easily. I wasn’t going to get out of it at all. Suppressing the sigh that wanted to come rushing out, I put on a smile for her.

  “Would you like to come in for some tea, Mrs. Wilkins?”

  Her face lit up like a Christmas tree as she smiled at me. “I would love to, dear,” she said. “You can tell me all about your trip. Just let me get some cookies.”

  Grabbing my bag, I carried it inside as Mrs. Wilkins shuffled into her apartment. I couldn’t help but smile. She was such a cute, kindly old lady. I couldn’t be mad at her for wanting to chat with me. Not when she really had nobody else to talk to.

  I put all of my stuff down and stepped into the kitchen, putting a kettle of water on the stove to boil. I heard her door close and a moment later mine closing as well as she shuffled into my apartment. She carried her box of tea cookies in and set them on the counter. As I was pulling cups and saucers out of the cupboard for our tea, I pulled a plate out so she could set the cookies out as well. Mrs. Wilkins was very strict about her tea service and proper cookies were always a must.

  Our tea prepared, I carried the tray into the living room and set it down. She sat down on the loveseat and I took the couch – and for the next two hours, she peppered me with questions about my trip. I felt like I was being cross examined by F. Lee Bailey or something. It was hard dancing around the fact that I was with Colin, but I managed. I wasn’t going to tell her I’d slept with a stranger over there. Even worse, that neither of us intended to see the other again after that.

  Mrs. Wilkins was so very proper in so many ways and she didn’t condone hooking up for the sake of hooking up. She believed sex was sacred between man and wife. It was a point we disagreed upon, but I wasn’t about to tell her that.

  Sheer exhaustion was setting in by the time I got her out the door with promises of a lunch date soon. The second I closed the door, I leaned my back against it, slid down onto my butt, and let out a long breath. My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I still hadn’t eaten anything more substantial than tea cookies and that I better get on it pretty quick, but I just wanted to rest for a moment. Leaning my head back against the door, I closed my eyes.

  I woke up completely disoriented. First, I was curled into a ball on the floor in front of my door. Adding to my confusion was the fact it was full dark outside, and my living room was completely cloaked in inky shadows. A panic started to set in as I jumped to my feet and looked at my phone. I gasped when I saw how many hours had passed since I’d sat down to rest for just a minute.

  “Well shit,” I muttered as I ran around my apartment flipping on lights.

  When I could see again, I started to come back to myself and my mind began to clear slowly. At least that haze of confusion seemed to be gone for the most part. My article. I needed to get to my article. That was priority number one. It needed to be in my editor’s inbox first thing in the morning; the earlier the better.

  Grabbing my laptop out of my bag, I set it down on the kitchen table, opened it, and hit the power button. As it booted up, my stomach growled loud enough to remind me I still hadn’t eaten anything substantial and I would get very sick very soon if I didn’t. Knowing I had a long night ahead of me and not wanting to go anywhere at the moment, I called up Postmates on my phone and ordered the first thing that sounded good.

  As I stood there, placing my order, I caught a whiff of myself and grimaced. My skin felt sticky and I smelled horrible. I had just enough time to grab a shower before my food got there. Grabbing all of my necessities, I bolted into the bathroom and took a shower, so focused on the task at hand that I didn’t even take the time to enjoy the feel of the water raining down over me.

  Cleaning myself done, I toweled off and threw on some pajamas, then put on a pot of coffee. I was going to need it. I’d just prepared my mug and set it down on the table when I got the alert that my food was there.

  “Okay,” I told myself. “Food, coffee, and now some music.”

  I called up my iTunes and hit the random shuffle button. I needed music to work by and as the first song started to play, I tore into my food with all of the eagerness of a starving man at a buffet. As I ate, I read over my notes and started to compile the article in my head. I rejected half a dozen different openings before settling on one that sounded right.

  After that, it was off to the races. It was only when I hit the send button, emailing my piece to my editor that I noticed it was closing in on three in the morning. A white-hot bolt of fear shot straight through me when the realization hit me.

  “Oh God. Oh shit.”

  I’d been so focused on getting home, getting my piece done, I forgot a promise I’d made to Colin. It was too late now; the pharmacy would be closed. I hurried up and Googled the effectiveness period for Plan B. For the next hour, it was all I could think about. What if… No, Hope, seriously. Most people tried for years to get pregnant. At least months. One instance of a condom breaking wasn’t going to result in pregnancy; what were the odds?

  I was technically outside the effectiveness period now, but I could still take it. My stomach roiled, and I cursed myself for being overly dramatic. There was a real possibility I couldn’t get pregnant anyway, so I didn’t need to be so freaked out about it.

  . My hands were shaking, and I was overcome with anxiety still, but there was nothing I could do about it.

  I told myself I’d get a few hours of sleep, then get to the pharmacy the next morning. Nothing to worry about.

  Hope

  “I love the article,” Kayla, my editor, said. She’d called me bright and early, before my alarm had even gone off. I was still half asleep and out of sorts, not getting much sleep the night before recovering from jet lag.

  “I hear a ‘but’ coming on,” I said, stifling a yawn.

  “You know me too well,” Kayla said, chuckling. “Yes, there’s a ‘but’ coming. It needs more, Hope.”

  “More what?” I asked.

  “More of your mystery man would be nice, for starters,” she said. “He sounded so sexy and romantic, exactly what we’re going for here.”

  “Sorry, there’s not much more I can share about him. He got called home early.”

  “What a shame,” Kayla said. “You two seemed to really hit it off. It even made me a little sappy, and you know me, that doesn’t happen often.”

  “Yeah, yeah, he was great, but it’s over now,” I said. Saying those words stung like a spear through my chest. Everything we had, all the magic and romance of Paris, it was gone. It was over. Just like that.

  “And you don’t know how to reach him here in the states?” she asked. “Because it might be nice to note that the relationship that started in Paris continued once you left.”

  “No clue. It was meant to be for one week only,” I said. “And we didn’t even get that.”

  “Damn,” Kayla said. And knowing her, she wasn’t feeling sorry for me, only because the article needed more Colin and wouldn’t be getting it.

  “Listen, you’re an editor for a travel website, not a romance author. Does it really matter what happened once we left Paris?” I asked.

  “I guess not,” she said. “Not if you can find a unique way to spin it.”

  “Any ideas?” I asked her.

  “I’m going to leave that up to you,” she said. “But whatever you decide, I need the next draft on my desk by this evening, say around five pm? Since you left Paris early, I moved everything up. Figured it wouldn’t be a problem.”

  “No, no problem at all. I have no plans for today,” I said. Even if I had, they’re cancelled now, I thought to myself.

  “I’ll find a way to add more to the article and get it
back to you later.”

  I had no idea what more I could add, but I’d figure out something. I was a writer, after all, and if anything, I could take some creative liberties with what happened. Not something I liked to do often, but sometimes it was required of me and I had no choice.

  In this case, I didn’t think I had much choice.

  “Thanks, Hope! And once we’re done with this, I wanted to talk to you about your next assignment. I’m already trying to think of new ideas.”

  “Sounds great,” I said. At least I still had a job. I mean, at the end of the day, that’s what mattered. I had a happy editor, I could continue writing and things would work themselves out.

  Ooo000ooo

  “Hey chica, wanna grab some lunch?” Anna asked over the phone.

  “I can’t,” I muttered. “I have to re-write my article and get it submitted asap. Maybe dinner though? To celebrate being done with it?”

  “Sure, that sounds great,” she said. “Dominic’s okay with you? I mean, it’s no Parisian cafe, but it’s pretty good.”

  I feigned a chuckle. She was trying to be cheerful and happy, but it was hard to be reminded that I was home, and that everything in Paris -and with Colin - was behind me. I’d told Anna a brief version of events, but I knew she was dying for more information. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to relive it, yet again. I mean, I was already reliving it with my article, but I didn’t go into the graphic details that Anna would want.

  “Of course,” I said. “Dominic’s it is then. Say around six?”

  “Sounds good, sweetie,” Anna said. “I can’t wait to see you! It feels like you’ve been gone forever!”

  “I was only gone for what, four days total?”

  “I know, but it feels like a lifetime,” she said.

  Leave it to Anna to be melodramatic, but she was right. It did feel like a lifetime ago. I’d changed since coming back home. Colin had changed me, and even though I wasn’t sure in what ways - and if it was for better or worse - it was clear that I wasn’t the same woman that had left for Paris less than a week before.