Chapter 1

Lorali

Of all the days my washing machine could’ve chosen to sputter and die, it’d be after I procrastinated getting my weekly laundry done! That’s how I’ve found myself, at seven o’clock in the evening on a Monday night, in a dimly lit laundromat, washing clothes.

Cursing my luck, I shove the three different loads of laundry into their respective machines. I’m not really a germaphobe, but I fleetingly wonder just what’s been washed in these machines prior to my use of them. I remember some of the things I personally had to take to the laundromat after a few wild, yet memorable, sorority parties in college. I shudder and chastise myself for not running a hot, empty wash in them before putting my loads in.

I look around the empty building. The machines are fairly new, and everything seems clean, so that helps alleviate my worries. My three machines are the only ones quietly running, providing the only noise in the entire facility. The comforting smell of laundry detergent surrounds me as I sit down with my Kindle. The sounds and the smell are very calming but the hard plastic chair provided is not only bolted to the floor, but its comfort level is nonexistent. I flip through screen after screen of textbooks I’ve all but memorized from college. Ugh, thank God those days are over with. I absently wonder if I should login to my Amazon account and delete them altogether, but I hesitate, unsure if I may need them again someday. Over three years later and I’m still leery about erasing the books

Not that I’ve really needed them thus far. Shortly after graduating from Colorado State University with my degree in Journalism and Media Communications, I landed, what I’d thought at the time, was my dream job. Only it wasn’t. I’d been told I was interviewing for the Lifestyle section. Not my ideal position, but a foot in the door at least. Much to my disappointment, my new job, which I thought would involve swanky parties and invitations to exclusive events dealing with the life and adventures of Denver’s elite, had way less to do with life and had everything to do with death. Yes. I was stuck writing and editing obituaries and attending funerals for well-known, well-loved citizens of Denver. Joy.

Now don’t get me wrong, I take pride in my job, and I do it well. Obituaries are, after all, the most frequent type of saved and preserved part of a newspaper. They probably won’t land me my dream job of investigative reporting, but it’s a start. A start two and a half years in the making, which now has led to a “promotion” of sorts. Starting next week, I’ll actually be taking over a position working on stories that include people of the living variety of the Lifestyle section at The Courier.

Knowing this takes some of the sting out of being stuck in a somewhat seedy area of town, washing a full week plus of laundry. I vow never to procrastinate doing laundry again as I stare back down at my Kindle, searching for my Sudoku app to keep me busy. Why can’t laundromats be better lit, and in nicer areas of the city? I guess I’m lucky that I didn’t try to do laundry Sunday, which is my normal routine. If I had, I would’ve been up here when it would’ve been packed to the gills. My procrastination actually helped me this time I think as I take in my empty surroundings.

I look up when a shadow crosses in front of me, blocking the blue lights from the washing machines. I see the back of a man in a long, dark trench style coat, striding purposely towards the little hallway at the back of the laundromat. He disappears into a room which I presume is the office. There should be someone back there. One of the main reasons I chose this place is because it touts that an attendant is always on premises when they’re open. I realize something is familiar about him as I discreetly stare at the back of his head. His short, neat haircut and his stylish clothes contributing even more to his familiarity and allure. He sure is overdressed for a place like this; I think as I catch his scent. Armani Black Code. Nice.

Closing my eyes, I let the smell envelope me. His expensive cologne overshadows the clean scent of the laundry detergent washing away all thoughts of the task that has me here to begin with. Just his smell begins to evoke illicit thoughts. He smells like sex in a bottle. Mmmm. To have a man like him in my life! Ugh, Lor, get it together!

Abandoning the Sudoku puzzle I was working on, I opt to read a historical romance novel for the next hour while the clothes wash. A decision I know has to do with the thigh clenching thoughts I had about the stranger. The faint sound of angry voices coming from a small hallway in the back of the facility draws my attention away from my Kindle. I wouldn’t call it arguing, but just a loud stern voice talking over someone else. As quickly as I notice the arguing, it’s gone.

I go back to reading about Rhett and Mable and their forbidden, torrid love affair. Before I know it, I’m alerted by the washing machine that it’s time for the fabric softener. Standing, I grab the little cup and dole out the recommended amount of the milky, pink liquid. I do this for all three loads of laundry I have. Turning from the machine for the third time, I crash into a brick wall, dropping the measuring cup. I count my lucky stars it was empty and hope the damage is minimal.

Dropping to my hands and knees, I shuffle after the measuring cup. I notice several drops of fabric softener have landed on the top of a very fine pair of super expensive Italian leather shoes. Fuck. If those shoes are ruined, I’ll have to work a month just to pay for them! Using my fingers, I attempt to wipe the substance away from the leather. Doing this only leaves behind darker wet spots.

“Stop,” the brick wall says.

I freeze… the husky voice sends goose bumps over almost every inch of my skin. One word has the muscles in my stomach clenching.

Slowly letting my gaze wander up the brick wall’s body, I take in his dark gray suit pants, and his stark white dress shirt, framed by a very expensive tailored suit jacket. Moving my eyes further up, I drink him in as my eyes make it to the unbuttoned collar of his shirt, where a smattering of trimmed hair peaks out. I draw in a ragged breath as I try to imagine what the hollow part of his neck would feel like under my tongue.

Holy shit, Bennett. Get it together. Lusting after a throat is a sure indication it’s been way too long since I’ve been laid! I need to get out more; I think with a frown. I vow then to set up a girl’s night out with Alexa and Josie.

My heart rate’s still increasing as I take in his strong, chiseled chin and ridiculously sexy mouth. A good, three-day stubble clings to his face surrounding full, plush lips, which are actually set in a smirk. A smirk! Further up, his hazel eyes gaze down at me filled with mirth. His dark brown hair’s expertly faded, longer on top and super short at his temples. I’m lost. I haven’t a clue how long I’ve been crouched down here, staring up at him, holding my hands in my lap, palms up with fabric softener dripping from my fingers.

His eyebrows rise as if he’s saying “Like what you see?”

Ummm…..yes I like what I see!!!

I snap out of the trance he’s held me captive in and stand up. Do I know him? Why does this beautiful, yes this man is most definitely beautiful, man seem so familiar to me?

I take a step back from him, after realizing I was leaning into him as if I’ve been pulled by some magnetic charge. The thought of latching myself onto his leg so he can take me with him when he leaves strikes me as quite comical, and I laugh.

“I’m pretty sure I ruined your shoes.” I reply softly and shoot a quick glance back down to his ruined shoes.

With no response, he just stares down at me.

Man, he’s tall….I’m five foot seven...and he’s a full head taller than I am, so that makes him what six-two, six-three? Mmm, manly!

“Don’t worry about it,” he says dismissively as his eyes continue to pierce me.

He continues to stare at me for another long minute before giving his head a quick shake. He side steps around me and continues his way out of the laundromat without another word.

I turn and unabashedly watch him retreat; wishing he didn’t have that long jacket covering his ass. Man, I bet he has a great ass.

Keeping him in my line of sight I watch as he slowly bends and gets into the seat of a very sleek white car. The second before his head disappears inside he glances up, making eye contact one last time, the smirk on his face once again.

Once inside the car, he’s completely obstructed from my view. He backs out and takes off, his sporty car letting out a sexy growl as he drives away.