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  He reached the front, his bodyguards handling crowd control, and turned to face the room. His eyes searched for me in the sea of women, so I stood and let him find me.

  Our gaze locked, he winked and smiled a naughty grin. Without breaking eye contact, he unbuttoned the front of his shirt and shrugged out of it, dragged it off his arm with slow precision.

  I had to look, good god, I had to look. I broke our contact when I let my eyes trail over his amazing body. His beautiful tattoos made their way up his left arm and covered the left side of his torso. The right side had some images on it, but nothing as detailed and exquisite as the left.

  His body was perfection. It was beyond perfection. He didn’t just have a six-pack; he had bulging muscles from top to bottom. He had a gorgeous ridge on either side leading down into his pants. His pecs were wide and solid, and I had just been resting against them moments before.

  His arms were thick and straining as he flexed and put on his show. The best part though, my favourite part, was his face. His eyes, that secret smile he had just for me.

  Finally he turned to Rebecca and took the mic. “I’d like to thank you all, the readers, the bloggers, the fans. Without each and every one of, my career would be nothing. I appreciate it.”

  “Take off the pants,” one woman screamed from the group at the front. This sentiment was echoed by several more.

  He chuckled, grinned at them and said, “Not tonight, ladies, I have different plans.” He stared straight at me again when he said this. He then slid his shirt back on and added, “Keep reading, keep loving, and keep hoping. You never know where you’ll something special, it could be in the most unlikely of places.”

  He handed the mic back to Rebecca Hawk who made a move to hug him. He dodged her touch and gave her a quick peck on the cheek instead. She looked a little stricken as he walked back towards me, buttoning up his shirt and ignoring pleas for more nudity and boob signings as he went.

  Just before he got back, Jenny returned and plopped another drink in front of me. Then another. I looked at her questioningly.

  “I just thought you’d be thirsty and too busy to go get your own,” she said and smiled. I wasn’t totally convinced of her charitable act, but perhaps the drink clouded my judgement with her as well.

  “Thank you,” I replied, “I am pretty thirsty.” I took a sip and grimaced. “What’s in this?”

  “Just vodka and cranberry,” she said, “nothing more.”

  I nodded my head and took a long drink as Gavin returned. He sat back down beside me, leaned in and said, “Can we get out of here?”

  I saw Jenny’s face fall when she overheard his request and told him, “Let’s stick around for a bit, at least until Jenny finds her friends again.”

  “It’s up to you, love,” he replied and touched my cheek with his thumb again, “I’m happy if you’re happy.”

  I took another drink and felt the vodka warm me up from the inside out. I had a glow in my stomach that reached my cheeks.

  I was happy, and anywhere he was I would be happy.

  It was turning out to be the best night of my life.

  Chapter Seven

  “I’m okay, I’m okay,” I said, only I wasn’t a hundred percent sure of it this time.

  “You’re always okay,” Gavin replied and helped me stand. I’d attempted standing on my own, but had failed miserably when I’d fallen right back in my seat.

  Jenny had finally gone off with her pack of matching Marilyn Monroe look-alikes, and I agreed to go for a walk with Gavin. And his ever-present bodyguards.

  We strolled out the ballroom and into the hotel’s lobby. There was a small café off the entrance and we headed there for a coffee. I felt like I needed to sober up a little to enjoy the most insanely amazing night of my life.

  I wondered how much vodka I had actually consumed. Once I was away from the noise and rush of the crowd, I felt light headed and woozy.

  “Sorry,” said a waitress as we walked inside, “we’re closing in ten.”

  “Are you sure I can’t convince you stay open another half hour or so?” Gavin asked, “My girl here is dying for a coffee and a clubhouse.”

  “Sorry,” she said again, “there are a few places open along the block though. Head outside, hang a left and Smitty’s Grill is twenty four hours.”

  “Thanks so much,” he replied and we headed back to the lobby.

  I was feeling very light headed by then, and kinda sick to my stomach. “Listen,” I said, “I think I should go.”

  “Playing the part of Cinderella tonight, are we?” he asked and grinned.

  I laughed and said, “It’s way past my bedtime and I think I might have had a little too much to drink.”

  “I don’t want the night to end,” he replied and pulled me towards him, “I travel the world and meet women from all walks of life. I know I have a reputation as a player and a bad boy, but I think you’re special, Sarai. I don’t know why, and I don’t know how but from the moment you fell down on the carpet in front of me, I’ve felt drawn to you.”

  I swallowed deeply and went over his words in a split second analysis before I replied. He did have a rep, and at twenty-eight he’d never been with a woman for more than a few months here and there. He could be playing me, looking for a hump and dump, but how would I know if I didn’t give it a shot?

  On the other side, the illogical, obsessive, head over heals side; a little voice whispered in the back of my head that I’d felt it too. We had a crazy chemistry, and that was undeniable. Why me though, why boring gawky me, out of all the women in the world…the women in here?

  “Are you going to say anything?” he asked, his eyes searching my face for my response.

  “I…” I started to say but hesitated. I was overcome with this sudden desire to give into the craziness of it all and blurt out my feelings. Instead all I could muster, there in the middle of the hotel lobby with people coming and going, some staring and some taking pictures, was, “I feel it too.”

  “I want to tell you what I wished for earlier,” he said and stepped closer to me. The tension was palpable, even the gathered people seemed to quiet their conversations because of the rising heat between the two of us.

  “What was it?” I asked, my heart speeding up and my knees shaking. We were so close I could see every speck of colour in his brilliant eyes and feel his breath on my forehead as he leaned over me.

  “I think it would be easier to show you,” he replied. He hovered above me for half a heartbeat, hooked his thumb under my chin and tilted my face up to meet his.

  And then he kissed me; he pulled me tighter against his hard body and kissed me deeply. My knees began to tremble and my stomach felt even more flip floppy than before. Urgently his mouth moved against mine, prickling my soft skin with his stubble and I finally gave into the aching sweetness of the moment.

  It was a moment of desperate madness, my body ruled my mind and I kissed him back. I uttered a harsh syllable of need against his lips and he responded by holding me tighter, spreading my legs with his, and pressing his hard ridge against my stomach.

  The entire world ceased to exist, the crowds, the cell phone cameras, the bodyguards; all of it fell away and left me here with him, raw and exposed.

  He lifted his hand and cupped the back of my head to steady me. He sensed my weakening knees and knew I would surely fall back into some deep abyss of eternal want if he didn’t hang onto me and keep me safe.

  I could hear his breathing increase as he panted his intent. He was slow and deliberate with his mouth on me, and while his tongue snaked around mine, I began to almost hum with desire.

  He pulled back, ran his hand through my hair and in a husky voice said, “I would like to take you home.”

  “I would like that,” I replied and let him take my hand and lead me to my car. My ugly, ugly car.

  ***

  At my car I fumbled with my keys, barely able to bring them from my purse let alone get them into
the door lock. Gavin took them from my hand, slid up against me and kissed me again against the dusty side of my crappy Corolla.

  I was trembling, maybe from all the vodka, but mostly from the anticipation of what was going to happen.

  I’d never had a one night stand. I wasn’t a virgin, but I had only been with two men, both of them boyfriends. I had also made them wait the allotted respectable time limit before giving up the goods.

  Three weeks in case you’re taking notes. Three weeks is the fine balance between being a slut and being a prude with sexual hang-ups. But that’s just my number, to each their own as they say.

  But back to the delicious and intoxicating man I was making out with in the parking garage under the Hilton Waterfront not five miles from the home I shared with my crazy Auntie.

  “Shit,” I said suddenly, blurting the word against his soft, warm lips.

  He pulled back and looked at me, “Sorry, love?”

  “I forgot, I can’t take you home.”

  “Why not? Don’t tell me you’ve got an angry husband waiting to kick my arse.”

  “No, but I do have a crazy auntie waiting to show you baby pictures of me and talk your ear off about the merits of biofuels.”

  “You don’t live alone?”

  “No, I never have,” I confessed, “I’m…well, I’m kind of a dork about it. It’s a thing I have.”

  “A thing?”

  I could see the doubt creeping into his face. The lurking suspicion that he’d dodged a bullet, that he'd been saved from hooking up with a real nutter. The reality was that after my parents had been murdered, I was a little OCD about being safe. Their deaths had shattered any illusions I’d ever had about feeling secure.

  “I don’t like to be alone,” I said, “listen, I can see you think I’m nuts. I should go.”

  “I don’t think you’re nuts at all,” he replied and kissed me, kissed my fears and worried away. When he was done, he added, “I personally think you’re adorable to be honest. Sexy and adorable, if there is such a thing.”

  “I’ll take it,” I said and leaned up, tilted my head and demanded another kiss. A few minutes in I heard somebody clear their throat behind us and we broke apart. I always forgot about his bodyguards.

  “Do they follow you everywhere?” I asked.

  “No, just when I’m doing public events,” he said, “you wouldn’t believe some of the psychos who come out to these things.”

  Thinking back to the hyped up crowd chanting for him to remove his pants, I nodded and said, “Oh I think I do.”

  “I want to say I’ll take you back to my apartment,” he groaned and leaned in for another kiss. He pulled back, stared at me and said, “Fuck, Sarai, I want to promise that I’ll be a gentleman and I won’t try anything with you, but I’d be lying. And I’m not a liar, love, not to you. If I get you back to my place, I’ll kiss you some more, and I will want to take your clothes off and kiss every part of you,” he broke off to kiss me some more in the moment. “And if I kiss you all over, I know I’ll have to fuck you, and when I fuck you for the first time, I want it to be better than a drunk shag after a book signing.”

  I was breathless with his confession. The old me might have wondered if the hottest man in the world was giving me the kiss off, but the new, lustful me admired his control.

  I had to face it, if he’d made a move, I probably would have lifted my skirt and slid down his hardness right there, out in public in front of anybody who could see.

  “I get it,” I replied, “I would be the same.” My voice caught in my throat and I couldn’t finish my sentence. I couldn’t tell him how much I ached to feel his skin on mine, how badly I wanted him to touch me down there, to make me cry out in ecstasy from his touch.

  “I will have you eventually, love,” he said, “I will make love to you and we will bring so…much…joy…to…each…other…” As he spoke he nibbled up and down my collarbone and neck, punctuating each word with a hot little kiss. “But I want you to be sober, and I want it to be perfect.”

  “I’m okay,” I said breathlessly and heard him chuckle against my ear.

  “You always are,” he said and continued his sensual assault on my neck and throat. My entire body was alight, as if lit from within. I felt almost translucent, as if anyone walking by could see my beating heart just under my skin. I burned for him.

  The bodyguard cleared his throat again and Gavin pulled back…again. It was almost painful for him to remove his hot, hard body from mine.

  “We need to get you home, love,” he said, “give me your keys. I’ll drive your car and they’ll follow behind in mine.”

  “I’m okay to drive,” I protested.

  “You most certainly are not,” he stated simply and took the keys from me.

  “Yeah, you’re probably right,” I capitulated and walked around to the passenger side. He followed, unlocked the door and opened it for me. I got in, folded my legs together like a proper lady and he shut it carefully. I felt positively regal.

  He slid into my usual spot, adjusted the mirrors and asked me for directions.

  We pulled out of the garage and my throat and lips were still burning for his touch. I reached up and stroked my collarbone gently, the way his lips had touched it. He caught my movement and reached for my hand.

  It was bliss.

  And just like that I became the one night stand Gavin James nailed during the book event in Seattle.

  According to the papers that was.

  Chapter Eight

  I must have had much more to drink than I’d thought. When I woke up, I stretched and reluctantly opened my eyes.

  My head was pounding and my mouth felt like somebody had stuffed cotton in it while I slept.

  I jolted awake and sat straight up in my bed, clutching my pillow to my chest in absolute shock.

  I had kissed Gavin James. He had kissed me. We had kissed.

  Oh my god, the hottest man in the world had driven me home, chatted casually along the way, then made out with me like a teenager in front of Auntie G’s place until the wee hours of the morn.

  Gavin James. I struggled to wrap my head around it.

  I was grateful we hadn’t had sex; I think it would be much worse to think about it this morning. Now I just had a funny story to talk about, that time I made out with Gavin James. Remember that? And then he never called me again. Ha ha.

  I hoped he texted or called. I didn’t even remember if I’d given him my number, I had been way more drunk than I’d realized.

  I would have slept with him last night; I had to admit that now. I would have dropped onto my knees and stripped naked and begged him to use my body. It wasn’t just the build up of being with such a famously hot man; it was the crazy chemistry we had together. Our bodies just seemed to line up somehow.

  I’d never heard from him again, would I? Wait, don’t answer that, let me float in my happy delusion that he hadn’t just used me for a quickie feel good hook up.

  He did mention an apartment though. Did he live in Seattle? Everything I’d read had indicated his main apartment was in London with a get away condo in Aspen. He was an avid snowboarder.

  I could picture myself curled up by the fire sipping cocoa and reading a good book. We would be perfect together.

  Gavin James.

  I dragged my ass out of bed and hopped in the shower. I hoped the hot water would clear the fog from my head and let me see the night for what it had been. A one off fling, nothing more. I needed to drop the little whisper of hope that something would come of it.

  Still, he might call.

  I swear I almost yelled, “Stop it with the wishful thinking!” out loud in the shower, but knowing my life, Auntie G would think I was having a seizure and call 911 or something.

  I ran my soapy hand along my body, tracing the path of where his mouth had been. My lips, my neck, my collarbone...my breasts. The image of me curled back in the front seat of my shitty car, head thrown back and him sucking my
puckered nipple as I cried out for him flooded my head.

  I blushed and almost looked around in shame, thinking everyone would know what we’d been up to last night, as if I still wore his kisses on my body like luscious tattoos.

  Speaking of tattoos, his had been even more beautiful close up. I vaguely remembered him shrugging his shirt off, just for me this time. I had touched him, felt his smooth skin and bulging muscles as I marvelled at his perfection.

  He hadn’t seemed to notice how imperfect I was. He moved against my body like a starving man searching for sustenance. He never once seemed to pull back his hand, comparing me against the fashion models and actresses he’d been with.

  It was simply divine, he was divine.

  Maybe he’ll call. Or text. Maybe.

  I dried off and picked out my clothing, very casual. Baggy hoodie and yoga tights, the kind of thing that screamed, “Help me, I’m hung over.”

  I brushed out my long hair and looked for my glasses. They weren’t on the usual spot on my night table. My hand brushed against my phone and it buzzed, letting me know I had a text.

  I’m not going to bullshit you, my heart skipped a beat. It leapt up into my throat, did a summersault and dropped back down into the pit of my stomach. Anatomically impossible, but it happened.

  “Holy fuck. What did you do last night?”

  It was Jenny. My heart sunk lower into the bottom most depths of my leaden tummy and I sighed. It wasn’t him.

  “Did you get home ok?” I replied, completely dodging her question.

  “WTF happened?” she texted right back. She wasn’t having any of it; she wanted answers that I couldn’t give. WTF had happened last night, really?

  “Let’s get…” I started to text, then looked at the time and had to put, “lunch.” I’d slept far too long for breakfast.