Page 2 of One Night Only
“Because you might steal something if I leave you by yourself.”
“Why can’t you stay with me?”
“Because I—” I break off at the smile on his face. He’s teasing me. I relax a bit. I can take teasing. I’m chill.“Because I have to go to work,” I finish.
He grabs the T-shirt and pulls it on over his head. Finally. I tie my robe tighter around me and try to remember what I need to do today. Pack. Dry cleaning. Pedicure.
“What are you doing tonight?”
“Tonight?” I’m momentarily distracted by the muscles in his arms. “I’m busy.”
“Tomorrow?”
“I’m busy all nights,” I say, trying to communicate the obvious thing that is happening between us. This time at least he seems to get it.
He scratches the side of his face and the hint of stubble there. He almost looks surprised. “I don’t usually sleep with someone an hour after I meet them.”
“Well…” I spread my hands out, losing patience. “I do.”
There’s a beat as he stares at me. Then he grins. “Fair enough.” And with that he flips the sheet off his body and stands, naked from the waist down.
Okaaay.
I mutter something about giving him privacy and slip out of my bedroom.
Claire waits in the kitchen, dressed in her expensive running clothes.
“Did he go?” she asks, confused.
“He’s getting dressed.” I smooth the crow’s nest that is my hair. “Then he’s going. I promise.”
“Hey, I’m not complaining. This is the closest thing I get to sex these days.”
“Funny.” But true. With her fancy, long-hours job Claire often says she needs to live through me.
“You got mail by the way. I left it out for you last night but, obviously, you weredistracted.” She passes me an envelope from the counter. “I think it’s your passport. Cutting it a bit close, aren’t you?”
I rip it open, ignoring her. Iamcutting it close. But that’s because with all my planning for my upcoming trip, I completely forgot about the most obvious thing I would need. Thankfully, it is indeed my passport, a leathery blue booklet that looks very official in my hands.
“That’s not a bad photo,” she says, peering over my shoulder.
“I should have worn my hair down. I look like an alien.”
“I look like a serial killer in mine.”
We both fall silent as the bedroom door opens. My one-night stand enters the room, thankfully fully dressed.
“Good morning,” Claire calls sweetly, twirling one of her braids over her shoulder. “Coffee?”
The man smiles gratefully. “Coffee would be great.”
“No,” I say. “He can’t have coffee. He’s leaving.”
Claire stares unabashedly as I shepherd him out, pushing him with two fingers toward the door.
“Are you this pushy with all your conquests?” he asks. He doesn’t sound annoyed. Only amused.
“I don’t usually have to be.”
