Accidental Tryst

by Mia London

  “Hell no,” Ryan said stringing out the words with a gleam in his eyes. “How was it?”

  “Fuckin’ crazy good. Like it hadn’t been that good in years.”

  “So what did you do? Call her for a date? What?” He heard the hope in Ryan’s voice.

  “No.” Frankly, he was paralyzed with fear that he’d screw something up, and lose his chance at getting her back.

  “No! Why not?” Ryan leaned forward in his chair.

  “I guess I just considered it a slip. An accident.” He scratched the back of his head. “I need to figure out my next move.”

  “And this was like two weeks ago? Bro—”

  Mac held up a hand before Ryan tore into him. “Wait. There’s more.”

  Ryan exhaled. “Okay, let’s hear it.” He sat back and rested his hands on the arms of the chair.

  “Stuart forgot a book at my place and I drove by the house last Monday night after work to drop it off. Angie looked like a million bucks, like she was dressed for a date.”

  “A date on a Monday night. It could happen,” Ryan said as he teetered his chair back and forth.

  “But that’s just it. There was no date. When I had the boys Wednesday night, they said they’d stayed in, ate pizza, and watched TV.”

  Ryan narrowed his eyes. “No date, but she was dressed up.”

  “Right,” Mac said taking a swig of his beer.

  “You know what that means, right?” Ryan rose to tend the grill.

  “That she might want me back.”

  “Bingo,” he said pointing the tongs directly at Mac. “So what’s your plan?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it all week.”

  Ryan returned to his seat and drank the last of his beer. “You gotta find a way to woo her. Like write her a love letter.”

  Mac nearly gagged at the thought. “That’s not really me, Ry.”

  “I don’t give a shit. Girls like that stuff. And you can’t do what you normally would have done, because clearly that shit didn’t work,” he said poignantly.

  Mac sighed and nodded in resignation. “You’re right. I need to come up with something new. Something unexpected.”

  “Exactly.”

  Before the conversation could continue, Ryan’s kids, Marissa and Billy, ran through the house and to the back patio. “Uncle Mac,” they yelled in unison as they clobbered him for hugs.

  “Hey, guys. How’s it going?”

  “Great.” The kids had rosy cheeks like they’d been exercising or something. Marissa had her hair in pigtails and wore pink from her head to her toes. Billy was a foot shorter and the spitting image of his father, with lighter hair.

  Carol strolled out through the sliding glass doorway. “Hey, Mac. Glad you’re here. It’s good to see you.”

  Mac stood to hug his friend. “Nice to see you too. You’re looking well, Carol.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled.

  “Kids, go wash up. Dinner’s ready,” Ryan announced.

  “Okay, Daddy,” Marissa said, and she and her brother ran inside.

  Carol went to her husband and placed a kiss on his lips. “Hey. I’ll go get dishes and silverware. Be right back.”

  The five of them sat on the back patio, eating, enjoying the food, the conversation, and the temperature. Talking with Ryan about his guilt helped alleviate the knot in his stomach somewhat.

  At the end of the great evening, Mac helped with the clean up and said his thank yous and goodbyes.

  “Keep me posted on developments,” Ryan said referring to his situation with Angie.

  “I will. Thanks again, man.” Mac drove away feeling full, and having a motivation toward his marriage he hadn’t felt in years.

  The thought hit him like a truck. Staying motivated about his marriage was something he should have been doing all along. Shit! This isn’t rocket science.

  He knew Angie wanted him back, but clearly she was testing the waters. Testing him. He had one chance to win her back. He would not screw it up. The big question remained: how to seduce his wife?

  Chapter Eighteen

  The package arrived at her office at ten Wednesday morning by courier. Angie studied the blue envelope, no return address. Her eyes narrowed. She hadn’t been expecting anything. Is this something professional or personal, she thought as she slipped open the seal.

  She slid out a simple white card with block lettering. She recognized the handwriting and her heart stopped.

  * * *

  I can’t stop thinking about what happened in my office.

  M

  * * *

  She gasped and quickly covered her mouth with her hand. She stared at the note. What did this mean? He was mad about the slap or—she swallowed hard—he was excited about the sex.

  Seriously, Ang, you have to ask?

  She bit down on her lip, trying not to smile. God, the sex they’d had was amazing. Stellar. Visions rushed back into her mind of how he’d looked, his penetrating eyes after she slapped him. The feel of his hand caressing her. The smell of him as he leaned in close to her. His amazing cock stroking her deep inside. She wanted that again. She wiggled in her chair. Faint wetness gathered at her sex from the mere thought of what had happened over two weeks ago.

  He’d noticed her. That was it. When she dressed up last Monday. God, it worked.

  Now what? What should she do?

  She stuck the note back in the envelope and into her purse, and opened her email program when Jarmon stood near her and Nicci’s cubicles.

  “Ladies, I have good news.”

  They both swiveled around to face their boss.

  “The offices on the fifth floor are almost complete. How do you both feel about moving in next week?”

  Executives, department heads, and, of course, Jarmon, had their offices on the fifth floor, the highest floor of the building.

  The women stood. “Wow, almost done,” Nicci said as she glanced Angie’s way.

  “Oui.”

  “Well, that’s great,” Angie replied, her stomach turning with mixed feelings.

  “I will have Clarisse send the schedule over. I wanted to tell you myself. I am very much excited to have you close by once again.”

  Angie smiled at Jarmon’s sincere comment. He was the best boss she’d ever had.

  After he left, Nicci leaned on their adjoining wall. “I’m not sure how I feel about this. I mean, you’ve been right here for months. Now, I doubt our offices will be next to each other.”

  “I know. I was thinking the same thing.”

  “You know what? I’ll take Clarisse out to lunch. See what she can do about placing us next to each other,” Nicci said with a wink.

  “Great idea.”

  Having Nicci close by, especially with all the chaos in her life, was a God-send. It might make her sound four instead of forty-four, but having her friend close was comforting. Angie would secretly cross her fingers. But whether their offices were next to each other or not, she would learn to adapt. Adapting was the motto of her life lately.

  Now what? That was the million dollar question after Mac had the note delivered to Angie’s office.

  One theme resonated throughout Mac’s entire being when he thought about how to salvage the relationship with his wife—make the sex amazing for her. The unconventional, erotic sex they’d had in his office told a very potent story.

  He thought long and hard about the two of them. She needed the kind of spontaneous, hot, audacious sex they’d had in their early years of dating. Sex wouldn’t fix everything in their marriage, but he knew it would be a start.

  So why hadn’t she said something to him earlier? Told him what she needed?

  He scratched his scalp and smoothed his hair. He recalled an article he’d read in a men’s magazine years ago. As a rule, women don’t like to talk about sex, he recalled. Mac hadn’t understood it at the time, but slowly the idea became salient. Women will talk about sex in general, but when it relates to what they w
ant in the bedroom, not a chance.

  That put the ball in Mac’s court to implement a fix.

  He squinted his eyes and played their office escapade over in his head, for the billionth time. Mac had been uncharacteristically dominant and commanding toward Angie. His cock twitched at the thought. He liked it and so did she. She’d become slicker than he’d ever felt. God, she looked so good bent over his desk— her smooth, round ass ready for his touch.

  Mac steepled his fingers together. Ideas were flying through his mind faster than floor trading on an old-fashioned stock exchange. He would make it good for her. If he played it right, it would be the first of many such nights with his wife.

  Mimi buzzed his line. “Mac, Will Manning wants to know if you can meet with him and the manufacturer of the water recycler tomorrow afternoon at three.”

  He leaned forward in his chair and toggled to his calendar. “Sure, but I have a meeting with Camille at the same time.”

  “That’s why I called you.”

  His admin was brilliant. That was definitely not a meeting he needed to be in. Hell, Camille didn’t need to have the meeting. She could easily send her comptroller to review quarter-end and year-end sales projections.

  “Thanks, Mimi. I’ll take care of Camille. Please tell Will I’ll be there.” Getting the water recycler up and running was paramount at this point. He wouldn’t miss that meeting for the world.

  Then he picked up the phone and dialed his local district manager, Rhea.

  “Hey, Mac.”

  “Hey, Rhea. Are you free tomorrow at three for a review of sales projections with Camille? I need to be at manufacturing.”

  He heard her typing. “Ah, yeah.”

  “Great. I’ll shoot over the latest projections. It’s everything we’ve gone over last week.”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Thanks.” He disconnected the line, and sent the spreadsheet. Camille may be surprised by Rhea’s presence, but he had complete confidence in Rhea. Not to mention, some distance from Camille for a while might be a good thing.

  The receptionist rang Angie’s desk phone Thursday as she’d returned from lunch.

  “Angie, you have a delivery here. Can you come get it?”

  Her heart skipped a beat. Mac. “Sure. Be there in a sec,” she replied. She licked her lips and willed herself to walk at a normal pace. Her heart rate sped. How was it that she became so excited over the husband she was supposed to be divorcing?

  As she crossed the building toward the receptionist desk, tall red roses stood at attention, in a crystal vase with sprigs of greenery.

  “Hey, Angie. These sure look pretty, and they smell good, too,” the receptionist said with a twinkle in her eye.

  “Thanks.” Angie hefted the dozen roses, beyond eager to read the card.

  She returned to her cubicle and several heads turned to admire her present. Including Nicci.

  “Wow. What do you have there?” she asked.

  Angie inhaled the fragrant roses and slipped the card from its stand. “A present,” she said, not the least bit concerned about the smile plastered on her lips.

  * * *

  Meet me at the W lobby bar tomorrow at 7. I want to see that dress again.

  M

  * * *

  That dress? Oh, yes. The dress she’d worn when he came to the house and thought she had a date. That dress hugged her like it was custom-made. L’Amour had the best designers. Her mouth curved. She loved that dress, the heels, the red lipstick—the whole ensemble.

  “Mmm,” escaped from her throat.

  “Is it from Mac?”

  She glanced up at Nicci, standing in her cube. “He wants to meet Friday— Wait! Friday! Stuart probably has a football game.”

  She tossed the card on her desk and quickly swiveled her chair around to bring up the game schedule online. A few clicks and . . . it was a bye week. She exhaled. Crisis averted.

  “How’s it look?”

  “It’s a bye.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  “Well, I’ll meet him—” Was this something she truly wanted?

  “Yes?” Nicci tipped her head, her eyebrows raised.

  “Hell, I don’t know, Nicci. Part of me wants to go, and the other says ‘why bother’.”

  Nicci chuckled and leaned in close. “I know about the parts that want to go,” she said with a benevolent smile.

  “Nicci,” Angie scolded her.

  She wanted to go. Bottom line, the curiosity stirred her in unexpected ways. She needed to know what he would do, what he had planned.

  Oh, God, please tell me he has something amazing planned for us.

  She frankly wasn’t interested in the same-ol’ sex. A woman had fantasies. She envisioned sex the way it was early in their marriage, when Mac had fulfilled those fantasies.

  Angie slumped in the chair.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The hotel bar was richly appointed in dark wood paneling, hardwood floors, and a glossy, deep-mahogany bar with amber bottles lining the glass shelves behind it.

  Mac stood back in a dark nook of the bar, watching his wife sip on chardonnay.

  Christ, she looked amazing. How was it he’d missed how gorgeous she really was? Her smile brightened when the barman refreshed her drink. His sight traveled the curve of her jaw, the graceful descent to her neck to her jeweled décolletage and inviting cleavage.

  He imagined running his hands down the curvature of her back as it led him to her perfectly rounded, heart-shaped ass. His dick began to strain in his pants with the images of Angie’s naked body spread out before him.

  It had been years since he had such vivid fantasies of his wife. And if this would be their turning point, he would battle every day to keep their sex life alive and not take her for granted.

  No truer words were spoken when Mac spied a sharp-dressed man, about six-three, wearing a charismatic white smile in a designer suit cross toward his wife. Angie loved designer suits. Likely because of her job with a high-end clothier. The stranger resembled Will Demps, only taller. He stepped right up to Angie and greeted her with confidence.

  Mac witnessed Angie turn on her stool to meet his gaze, offering her own beautiful smile. He felt himself getting warm under his tie as the man held out his hand and shook hers. He then leaned forward and whispered something in her ear. As she laughed at his words and tossed her shiny brown hair, Mac wondered if she was being friendly or flirting. She hadn’t worn her wedding ring, after all.

  Mac was seconds from blowing a gasket when Angie finally shook her head at the man. His face fell in disappointment.

  Damn straight. She’s mine.

  A waitress passed behind him, and Mac quickly caught her arm. “Excuse me. Would you kindly give this note to the woman at the bar in the black dress?” He pointed, then handed the waitress the envelope and a twenty.

  She pocketed the twenty. “Sure.”

  Mac watched the waitress wend around the tables to Angie seated at the bar. She handed Angie the envelope, said a few words, and walked away.

  The Demps look-a-like waited patiently—hovered really—as Angie opened and read the note. She smiled and glanced around the bar, as if searching for him.

  She looked up at the stranger, said something, and shook his hand. As she rose on her heels, she flagged the barman for the check.

  Perfect. She’d had a glass or two of wine, enough to loosen her mood, and she appeared to have no problem blowing off Mister Comehomewithme.

  Mac slipped easily from the bar and strode to the bank of hotel elevators. He would wait again in the shadows for Angie before he set his plan into action.

  * * *

  Angie buzzed with anticipation as she waited for Mac at the bar. He apparently was running late because during that time a tall, dark, and handsome man approached her. He’d laid on some delightful compliments in a deliciously deep voice that brought Angie’s nipples to a peak. The man flattered her and perhaps if s
he wasn’t married, she’d entertain having dinner with him. Truthfully, since receiving Mac’s flowers, he was all she could think about.

  The bartender brought the check. Angie laid down some cash and grabbed her purse. She strolled to the elevators, managing her pace.

  Mac’s note read: Meet me in my room on the 10th floor. You don’t know me.

  He didn’t give her a room number, but she had to believe it would be evident which room was his once she arrived. The last part of his note sent a thrill through her. What was he up to?

  She took several breaths as she waited, surrounded by a handful of businessmen and one woman. The doors parted and Angie walked in. She pressed the number ten for her floor, and her breath hitched as Mac strolled in shortly before the doors closed.

  “Good evening.” He flashed a smile and stood next to her, facing front.

  She nodded. “Hello.” But couldn’t help her smile. He looked positively scrumptious. She loved seeing Mac in a suit—charcoal gray with a red silk tie, no less. Handsome as sin.

  One man and the woman exited when the doors opened on the third floor. She saw Mac pivot her way and stare at her.

  She turned her head to face him. “Yes?”

  “Forgive me if I’m too forward, but how would you like to come back to my room for a drink?” he asked.

  Conversation in the elevator ceased. Angie looked at the others and saw their stunned expressions. Her heartbeat ratcheted up another level.

  She smiled flirtatiously, responding to the twinkle in his eyes. “I’ve been waiting all night for someone to ask me. I’d love to.”

  He smiled back at her and waited for the doors to open on the tenth floor before saying, “After you.”

  He placed his warm hand on her lower back, guiding her into the hall. He stopped in front of his hotel room door and used the keycard. “Please, come in,” he directed as he held the door open for her.