Page 8 of Dr. Bad Boy

"No?"

"Better." Her smile gets bigger. "Way better."

"Good." I trail my fingertip down her arm, then back up again, this time coming closer to her naked breast. I'm halfway hard, but no matter how much I pay for the privilege, I don't actually get to break the call girls. She's more than earned her rest. "Come here."

She sets her head on my shoulder and I wrap my arm around her. She makes a sound that I can only describe as a contented purr, like a milk-drunk kitten. I don't recognize myself at the moment, but I'm well-fucked and bone-tired. I'll worry about this newfound love of cuddling tomorrow. Right now I just want to rest my eyes while I breathe her in.Violet.

Best sex I've had in a long time. Maybe ever.

My last thought before I drift off is,hello, Ottawa. When I move back, we're definitely doing this again.

The next thought I have is only semi-conscious. It's late, and totally dark outside. Violet's rolling away from me.

"Back here," I mumble, reaching for her, but she's already out of bed.

"I should head," she whispers.

"Wait." I'm so tired. I mumble something incomprehensible even to myself under my breath, and she laughs at me.

"Thanks for tonight." She moves into the shadows and I roll over, watching her get dressed.

Finally my brain cells start to work enough to form a full sentence. "Is your name really Violet?"

"Why does it matter?"

"So I know who to ask for next time."Because there needs to be a next time.

She hesitates. "What?"

"Come on, that was amazing." I yawn. "Next time I'm back in town…"

She's totally still now, and if I was more awake, I'd process that as the danger sign it is. I'm not, and I don't.

I'll regret the next thing I say, but I don't realize that yet.

"Do you want my number?" she asks quietly.

"I prefer to go through the agency," I say, because it's the truth, and again, I'm fucking tired.

Also, fucking stupid.

Because it's in the silence that follows that I piece together the clues my dick ignored all night long and realize, Violet's not a call girl.

The door opens a millisecond later, and I'm out of bed, but it's too late. I'm naked, and she's gone.

3

Violet

October

present day

Summer is officiallya thing of the past. I wake up early Tuesday morning, the day after the Canadian Thanksgiving long weekend, and my nose is cold. I love my apartment, a second-floor walk-up in a heritage building in Rockcliffe Park. It’s not big, one bedroom plus a small den that’s really a glorified closet, but it’s all I need. And I have a parking spot, which is good, because I’m not cut out for Ottawa winters without a car. So many people in this city bike everywhere for a good chunk of the year. I appreciate their enthusiasm.

But I don’t share it.

Besides, I have an indoor parking spot at work—a major luxury.

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