Page 48 of About that Fling
He needed to get the fuck over it; that was obvious. There was at least another month left in his contract with Belmont, maybe longer, but he could at least do a better job of keeping her out of his field of vision. Out of his thoughts.
Grabbing the remote, he flipped off the television, then picked up his laptop. He opened up the folder containing all his materials for the Belmont negotiations. The screen lit up with an Excel spreadsheet he’d been working on earlier, and he reached for his glasses. Shoving them onto his nose, he began making notes in the file. He’d have to remember to talk with Human Resources about some changes in the dental plan, and he needed to crunch a few numbers on some proposed changes to the ETO system. That was going to be a contentious discussion, especially with the folks from the nurses’ union.
He made a note to talk with the CEO about the legal ramifications of?—
What the hell was he doing?
He frowned, staring down at the spreadsheet. Working late on a Friday night? This is what the old Adam Thomas would do. He’d stay up late crunching numbers and planning strategies instead of doing something fun or engaging. Instead of going home to his wife.
Okay, so there was no wife now. He was glad about that, but it didn’t mean he had free license to behave like a workaholic jerk. Closing out the file, he clicked to his Internet browser. He ignored the Facebook icon, not giving in to the ridiculous urge to look up Jenna or her linebacker boyfriend. He hesitated a moment, then scrolled to his favorite travel website and began browsing.
How long had it been since he’d taken a vacation? Hawaii would be nice this time of year, or maybe somewhere in the Caribbean. He thought about tropical drinks and warm, sandy beaches. About palm trees swaying in the breeze and calypso music lilting across the bay. About Jenna in a bikini and?—
No. Focus, dammit.
Maybe a vacation was exactly what he needed. Something to reset his clock, give him some new perspective on life. Maybe he could take up scuba diving or bird watching.
A knock sounded at the door, bursting in on his thoughts. He frowned down at his watch. Who the hell would stop by at eight on a Friday evening? No one even knew he was here.
He rolled out of bed, not bothering to pull on a shirt or pants. Anyone bold enough to knock on a stranger’s hotel room door after dark on a Friday evening could damn well deal with the sight of him in Batman boxers.
Adam pulled the door open and froze. Jenna stood there in the hallway, her hair matted and rain soaked, her hands clenched in front of her. Her mascara was streaked from rain or from tears, and she looked ready to break in two.
“Jenna?”
“I’m sorry,” she said, and launched herself into his arms.
Chapter 8
Adam staggered backward, surprised by the force with which Jenna hurled herself at him. He felt his arms go around her without any thought to whether it was a good idea, what she was even doing here.
“Jenna? Are you okay?”
“Mmmphwalawonwugoo,” she murmured against his chest, and it felt so good to have her cradled there that he didn’t really give a damn whether he understood a word she was saying. She was soggy and cold and the best damn thing he’d ever felt in his life.
He held her for a moment longer, not sure whether to close the door to offer some privacy, or stand here holding her until she decided to tell him what the hell was going on. He should probably put on some clothes, but somehow it was the last thing he wanted to do.
“What are you sorry for, Jenna?” he asked, and felt her stir in his arms. “Did something happen?”
She shook her head and drew back, and Adam felt the absence of her warm breath on his chest. “I tried to make myself feel something for Shawn,” she said. “He held my hand, and I let him, and it felt so good to have someone touching me that way and when he asked me to come back to his place I started thinking about how good it would feel to?—”
She broke off there, scrubbing at her eyes in a way that made the mascara streaks look like war paint. Her gaze drifted from his face down to his chest and seemed to freeze there. He waited, not sure what etiquette called for. He should definitely get dressed.
“Hang on, let me grab a shirt.”
“No!” She put a hand out to touch his chest, a gesture that seemed to startle them both. “I mean, don’t do it on my account.”
“Okay.” He ran his hands through his hair and tried to remember what they’d been talking about. “So you slept with your ex and now you feel awkward about the whole thing?”
“No! I didn’t sleep with him.” She took a shaky breath and met his eyes again. “I said I thought about it, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. And the next thing I knew I was bawling and blabbering to him about how I needed to come find you and apologize, so that’s what I’m doing now. Apologizing.”
He frowned, not sure he was following her line of thought. “For what?”
“For blowing you off. For not introducing you to Shawn or inviting you to join us for dinner. For holding hands with my goddamn ex.”
“You don’t owe me an apology for any of that, Jenna. You were reconnecting with someone you cared about. You and I aren’t dating. Hell, we’re pretending not to even know each other that well. You’re free to sleep with your ex anytime you want.”
Those last words came out stilted, and they tasted bad on his tongue. He felt relieved when she shook her head.
