I’m a coward, I’ll admit it. When I woke up yesterday morning and my brain came to life, I realized the enormity of what I’d done. I’d let down my guard, openly flirting with a coworker and practically begging the man to screw me on his desk. What the hell was I thinking? I tried brushing the initial thoughts off as a brief moment of insanity, but then I happened to glance at my nightstand and right there out in the open lay the result of my little office foray with Roman. I was so lost in the afterglow of orgasm last night, I didn’t even have the wherewithal to stash the vibrator away from curious teenage eyes. Guess that shows my insanity lasted more than a few moments.
The idea of running into him in the office after all that craziness, sent me running to the bathroom. While I sat there dry-heaving with nervousness, I realized there was no way I could show my face anywhere near The Moran Group. Not today. Not until I had some time to work it all out in my head.
So now it’s noon on Saturday and I’m still in the same place mentally as I was the previous day. I’m grateful Emmy has been too distracted with her teenage life to give me half a glance and now that she’s off to hang with her friends until tomorrow, I’m left with a silent house and my good friend guilt to keep me company.
I try to occupy my thoughts by cleaning house, doing laundry, and making a grocery list. I catch up on a few bills, phone my parents in California and check in, then shower and change into a tank top and shorts. Feeling like the walls are closing in, I head outside into the warm Miami day, wind down the path in front of the duplex, and find myself standing at Jack’s front door ringing the bell.
“Hi, gorgeous, come on in.” He’s sleepy faced and tousled, wearing only a low-slung pair of pajama bottoms. He rubs his hand over his chiseled abs and shoots me a wry grin. “You look a little strung out.”
“What? Why?” I pace the length of his living room, which is exactly like mine but not. Jack has decorated his place as if it’s some upscale resort with sleek leather furnishings, dark glossy tables, and expensive woven rugs. It’s everything my place would be if I had the kind of money he has, though admittedly I have zero eye for decorating so even if I had any money, chances are it would look nothing like this.
Jack pours himself a glass of orange juice and props one hip against the kitchen counter. “Because you’re all wide eyed and pale. And you’re pacing. You never pace.” He eyes me up and down, those penetrating blue eyes of his missing nothing. “This is about that guy, isn’t it? The one at work.”
In keeping with all my craziness of the past few days, I plop right down in the center of his living room and pull my knees to my chest. “I’m going to Hell.”
He laughs. “Oh, I doubt that. Now, tell Uncle Jack what’s troubling you.”
I open my mouth to speak just as the bedroom door opens. Out walks a tall, extremely good-looking guy sporting a wide smile and a completely naked, very hot body. I attempt to avert my eyes, but really … I am only human. And this man is … oh my. Since I can’t recall how long it’s been since I’ve seen a naked man, I can only sit there on the floor and shamelessly look him over.
“Well, hello there, beautiful,” he drawls, glancing at me briefly before strolling right up to Jack and locking lips. And here’s where things get interesting. Maybe it’s because I’ve been alone for so long or it could be nothing more than two very handsome men standing within six feet of me, but as I watch their intimate exchange I feel a very decidedly and extremely intense tingle right between my legs.
Damn … this is hot. They are hot. And now I’m hot.
Just as I start to fan myself, Jack gives the guy a gentle shove and murmurs, “This is Sabrina.”
The stranger that Jack has yet to introduce me to turns and smiles once again, says hello, then confidently strolls right back into the bedroom and closes the door behind him. I’m still sitting there like a total fool, mouth hanging wide open, eyes as big as saucers, idly asking myself how someone’s body can be that perfect.
“He’s as good as he looks.”
My head snaps to the left, and I blink up at Jack. “What? What … who … um … wow.”
He grins cockily. “You can say that again.” Unapologetic, he comes closer, reaching down to assist me up off the floor and to the couch, where we settle in next to one another.
Rattled, I’m at a loss for words. Here I am, surrounded by gorgeous men in my personal life—I’m surrounded by them at work too—and each and every time I act like a total fool. What the hell is wrong with me?
Jack pats my hand like I’m a ninety year old lady. “It will be okay, Sabrina. I had that reaction the first time I saw him in the buff too.”
“It’s not just that,” I murmur, distracted by my life in general.
“Yeah, I know. You were totally turned on. I get it.” He grins at me and leans close to whisper, “I’m sure he’d be happy to let you watch us if you want.”
Shocked, I shoot to my feet. “What? No. I’m not a voyeur, Jack. Geez …”
He sits back, arms along the back of the couch, completely nonplussed by this entire conversation. “It’s really okay you know. Most people get turned on watching other people.”
“Not me.”
His smile fades and he pats the couch. “Come on. Sit back down and tell me what’s got you spinning so out of control.”
Naked guy forgotten, I launch into the entire Thursday debacle of my exchange with Roman. Jack does a lot of grinning, some eye rolling and eyebrow waggling, but generally keeps his mouth shut so I can yammer nonstop for ten minutes. When I finally run out of gas and slump against the couch, he puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me close.
“So let me clarify a few things: he didn’t push himself on you or in any way try to take advantage of you?”
“No. He was a perfect gentleman.”
“But you feel guilty because you feel like you lead him on, maybe gave him the wrong impression?”
“Well, yeah.”
Jack rolls his eyes. “Honey, you do realize that you’re a hot-blooded woman, right? It’s not a bad thing to be attracted to this man.”
On my feet, I drag my hands through my shoulder-length hair, and start to pace again. “Yes, but that’s the thing … it is. He’s younger than I am and way, way out of my league. Not to mention that we work together, and I could be fired simply because we had that conversation in the first place.”
“First off, he is not out of your league. Quit saying shit like that. It pisses me off.” He stands next to me and takes my hand in his. “Who cares if he’s younger than you? That dude in the other room just turned twenty-one, but do you see me kicking him out of my bed?”
My face blazes as I recall the naked stranger. “Good lord, Jack, he’s barely legal.”
Jack grins. “Yeah, but his stamina is worth it.”
Covering my ears with my hands, I squeeze my eyes closed and shake my head. “Enough.”
He chuckles and offers an unapologetic shrug. “At least one of us is getting some action.”
Sinking down on the couch with him once again, I sigh heavily. “This isn’t about action, Jack. That’s what I don’t think you understand.”
“Then explain it to me.”
Unexpected tears fill my eyes. “I don’t just want a hot one-night stand.” I point at the bedroom door. “I need more than that, especially if I’m going to risk so much.”
“So why are you convinced that man can’t give you what you need?”
“Because his nickname is Romeo! He has a reputation for charming women out of their panties then sending them on their way with a pat on the tush.” One lone tear trickles down my cheek. “I’ve waited years to get involved with someone. I’m not about to take a chance on a man who I know wants me for only one thing.” Swiping at my face, I tuck my hair behind one ear and glance over at him. “I want to fall in love. I want to be someone’s special person. I want to come home at night to a man who is as anxious to see me as I am to see him. I want someone who will love my child like their own, someone who will understand that being a mother comes first in my life.” The tears start rolling with a vengeance now and his face blurs in my vision. “I want to be loved, Jack. Can’t you understand that?”
Silently, he pulls me into his arms and presses his lips against my hair, letting me sob out my confusion and heartache against his strong, warm chest. How crazy is my life that the only male I’ve been physically close to in over a decade is my gay best friend? I’d forgotten how safe I could feel wrapped up in a man’s arms or how instantly soothing chest hair would feel against my cheek. It’s almost as if that one conversation with Roman has suddenly torn down all the protective armor I’ve worn for so long, leaving me needy and desperate and wanting underneath it all.
“I want that for you, more than anything,” Jack whispers. “But you can’t just wait around for that guy to walk into your life. As the old saying goes, you might have to kiss a bunch of frogs before you kiss the price.”
“I don’t want to kiss frogs!” I wail.
He chuckles, making my head bounce against his chest. “Sorry love. Fact of life. Frogs before princes.”
Once the tears dry, I’m left feeling exhausted and worn out. If Jack’s friend wasn’t taking up residence in his bed, I’d consider closing my eyes and napping right here in his arms. The restless nights and tension are all starting to weigh heavily on me and for once I wish I had zero responsibilities and could just get in my car and drive.
But just as the thought skirts through my mind it’s quickly followed by still more guilt. I do have responsibilities and even though I’ve been given a twenty-four hour reprieve from the largest one, I still need to remain close to home. “I’m gonna go. Thanks for listening.”
He walks me to the door and offers me a firm hug. “Try not to over think all this, okay? Just allow things to happen for a change. You might be surprised.”
Yeah, right. “Okay, sure. Have a nice day.”
Jack grins and waggles one eyebrow. “Oh, I intend to.”
I spend a few minutes giving the yard the once-over, pick a few weeds, and make a mental note to remind Emmy to mow the lawn. Then I trudge back inside to my empty, silent house and once again feel the walls closing in.
The idea of spending the remaining part of the day sitting here overthinking my life makes me want to scream, so after firing off a quick text to Emmy and grabbing my purse and keys, I lock up and head out to my car. Work is what I need now, especially since I blew it off yesterday to sit in bed and wallow.
There are a few cars in the parking garage when I arrive. After a quick hello to the security guard, I head up the elevator to my floor and move quickly down the hall to my office. Cynthia has left me a nice organized stack right in the middle of my desk with a long note off to the side, detailing things I need to be aware of and some calls I need to return. At the bottom of the page is a tiny notation: “Mr. Moran stopped by …” but no indication which Moran brother she’s speaking of. Since my communications are mostly with the Cruz, I dismiss the thought and get right to work.
Two hours later, my sandals are off, music is playing softly from my computer, and my desk looks like the paper monster threw up all over it. My hair is in a messy ponytail and there’s a splotch of soda drying on the front of my white tank top. Hot mess doesn’t even begin to describe me at this point, but I’m making great headway and briefly consider that I might want to try coming in for a few hours each weekend. It would certainly alleviate some middle of the week stress, that’s for sure.
My phone rings from somewhere deep within my purse, and after scurrying out of my seat across the room to retrieve it, I answer breathlessly, “Yes, Jack?”
“Hello, gorgeous. You should come out with me and Alex tonight and get your groove on.”
“No thanks. I’m at the office.” Settling into my chair, I prop the phone up with my shoulder and tighten the band on my ponytail. “Is Alex the guy from earlier?”
Jack chuckles. “Yes, honey, he’s the guy sporting all the muscles and the big dick.”
My face warms. “Um, well, okay.”
“Come on, lady, you need to get out. Have some fun.”
“No thanks. I’m gonna finish up here and go home and watch a movie.”
He growls in frustration. “All right. But if you change your mind, text me and I’ll come pick you up.”
“Will do. Love you, Jack.”
“Love you too, gorgeous.”
The moment I disconnect and set the phone aside, my eyes widen in shock. Roman is standing in my doorway, leaning one broad shoulder against the frame, hands tucked into the front pocket of his jeans. He’s dressed casually, like usual, but this time it’s without all the added dirt and grime that he typically sports from being at the job site. He looks freshly showered, hair slightly damp and falling messily across his forehead, jaw sporting a fine line of whiskers to give him a menacing, intensely sexy look. My stomach dips low as he looks directly at me and his eyes roll over my disheveled appearance.
His face is a mask of nonemotion as he asks, “Feeling better?”
I shrug. “Um, I wasn’t really sick. I just … um … I had …”
“I know.” Shoving off of the doorjamb, he settles into a chair across from me and casually props one booted foot on the opposite knee. “So tell me, who is Jack?”
Surprised at his question, I frown. “Why do you ask?”
He ignores my question and asks one of his own. “He your boyfriend, husband maybe?”
Appalled that he would think I could behave like I did with him and still be emotionally tied to another man makes me reconsider the type of person Roman Moran really is. “Why do you want to know?”
Rising, he leans on the edge of the desk and looms over me. “Is the person on the phone your boyfriend or husband?”
A wicked part inside of me refuses to answer. Is he jealous? Curious maybe? Or simply a nosey person by nature? Either way, I flat-out refuse to answer him on the grounds that I like seeing him all ruffled. He might be drop-dead gorgeous when he’s trying to charm me, but get him a little hot under the collar and he’s downright smoldering. His jaw tenses with irritation as he waits patiently, looking me over and scorching me with his gaze. The defined muscles in his arms bulge as he leans over the desk, giving me a bird’s eye view of all the tanned, warm skin that hides beneath his dark blue T-shirt. And even though he may be a good five or six inches taller than I am, and probably outweighs me by about seventy-five pounds, I’m not about to be intimidated. I sit back in my chair, pull my arms across my chest, and force my chin up just a bit to let him know that I refuse to be bullied.
What I don’t expect is that he’ll counter my move with one of his, coming around to my side of the desk and gripping the arms of my chair, our faces mere inches apart as he growls, “Tell me. Tell me if I’m wasting my time here and stepping on another man’s toes. I need to know.”
Forcing my eyes to his and calm I don’t feel, I reply, “Why? It’s really none of your business.”
His lips lift in a slight smirk. “Oh, sweetness, it is if you and I are going to be talking about naked things we’re doing on desks.”
My mouth drops open and I swear I can feel myself shrink under his hot gaze. If I thought I was out of my league before, having him so close now and feeling the electricity jump from his skin to mine is enough to run for cover. What the hell was I thinking, trying to take on a man like him, thinking I could outsmart him with my sassy talk and avoidance? All I’ve done is stoke the fire and created one hell of a blaze.
Our chests move in tandem as we breathe in one another’s air and for a brief moment, I close my eyes and just allow myself to be surrounded by him. How could I have remained so alone all these years when I am so obviously desperate for a man’s touch? My body is literally screaming to let go, to give in and do as Jack suggested, to just allow this to happen. And I want to. I really, really want to. More than I want my next breath, more than anything I’ve wanted in my entire life. I want to let him wrap me up in those thickly muscled arms and simply allow him to comfort me. I want to share confidences and laugh together. I want …
“Tell me,” he whispers.
My eyelids flutter open, finding him inches closer than he was just a moment ago. A wave of sudden panic washes over me and the breath catches in my throat. What the hell am I doing? This needs to stop and it needs to stop right now. I’m a mother for crying out loud. I work with this man! The moment I take that step forward it’s practically a guarantee I’ll be looking for work. As much as I might want him, need him, need this, nothing I do is worth losing what keeps my daughter safe and secure.
“I … I … c-can’t. I can’t do this.”
He moves slightly back but still continues to keep me surrounded. “Why not? Because of him?”
Shaking my head, I reply, “No. He’s my friend.”
Relief slides over his face and for the first time since he entered the office, he smiles. “Then tell me why you can’t do this.”
Every single fiber in my body screams at me to change my mind, to take a chance with him and damn the consequences, but then I consider how being with him even once could change my entire existence. I just don’t know if anything is worth that heartache. The job loss aside, I’m simply not certain I’ll survive unscathed once I let him into my life. “It’s too much,” I whisper.
Disappointment slides over his face. With a sigh, he nods and stands upright, taking a step back and allowing me to breathe. “That’s too bad.”
What do I say to that? Yes it is? Do I tell him that I want nothing more than to throw myself into his arms and stay there for the foreseeable future? Do I tell him how scared I am that he’ll use me and cast me aside? Do I tell him that as much as I long to get to know him, I fear that by doing so, and thereby developing deeper feelings, I’ll be tarnished even more?
“You should go,” I state, turning my chair to face the desk and forcing my eyes to the work in front of me.
He leaves without saying another word, taking with him the tiny bit of hope I had that maybe my future wasn’t so set after all. I suppose I should be grateful that he’s such a gentleman. Other men would have pushed the issue more, or thrown their weight around or even tried to distract me with a few kisses. Roman did none of that and yet my heart feels pulverized by the fact that I let him walk away so easily.
I hate feeling sorry for myself as much as I despise feeling guilty about everything. But right here, right now, I want nothing more than to be someone else, someone not burdened by responsibilities, someone free to make choices. The knowledge that I’ve never been that person and potentially never will be, leaves a hollow ache in my chest. As much as I might have told myself I deserved a bit of his time, the truth is that I don’t. One day, when I’m eventually free to make my own choices again, maybe there will be a man available who will ignite these same types of feelings in me that Roman has. Until that day comes, I need to be content with my life, work hard at this job I love, and enjoy the few years that I have left with my daughter before she starts her own life.
So why are my eyes teary again, and why does it feel like a softball has lodged itself in my throat? Blinking furiously, the stubborn tears work their way out and down my face, plopping one by one onto my desk. With a strangled sob, I put my head down onto my arms and start to cry.