About twelve hours after experiencing her very first public orgasm, Hayden strode into Dreams, the downtown lingerie boutique owned by her best friend.
She was in desperate need of Darcy right now. Darcy and her one-night-stand mentality would definitely help her get her thoughts back on the right track and off the track that sent her hurtling straight into Brody Croft’s arms.
Funny thing was, he hadn’t pushed her after their interlude at the lounge last night. He simply paid for their drinks and then succeeded in finally getting his number in her phone. She still hadn’t offered hers, but “BRODY CROFT” was officially part of her contacts list, which was definite progress on his end. Afterward, he’d walked her out to her rental car and left her with a parting speech she couldn’t stop thinking about.
The next move’s yours, Hayden. You want me, come and get me.
And then he left. Just hopped into his shiny SUV and left her sitting in her car, more turned on than she’d ever been in her entire life. She’d been ready to go home with him, even hinted at that, but he’d made it clear it wouldn’t happen that night, not when he’d had to twist her arm to get her there.
Nope, he wanted her to initiate their next encounter. Something she was seriously tempted to do.
Which was why she needed Darcy to talk her out of it.
The bell over the door chimed as she walked into the boutique. She sidestepped a mannequin wearing a black lace teddy and a table piled high with thongs and approached the counter.
“Something terrible has happened,” Darcy groaned the second she saw her.
“Tell me about it,” Hayden mumbled.
But the look of dismay on Darcy’s face made her push the memory of last night aside for the moment. She caught a whiff of a sweet floral scent, looked around and finally spotted a bouquet of red and yellow roses peeking out of the metal wastebasket next to the counter.
“Courtesy of Jason,” Darcy sighed, following her gaze.
“Who’s Jason?”
“Didn’t I mention him? I hooked up with him last week after yoga class. He’s a personal trainer.”
Like she could actually keep track of all the men Darcy hooked up with. Hayden didn’t know how her friend did it, wandering aimlessly from guy to guy.
“And he sent you flowers? That’s sweet.”
Darcy looked at her as if she’d grown horns. “Are you insane? Don’t you remember how I feel about flowers?”
Without waiting for an answer, Darcy leaped to her feet and checked to make sure the store was void of customers. Then she marched over to the front door, locked it and flipped the Open sign so that it read Closed.
With her kitten heels clicking against the tiled floor, Darcy gestured for Hayden to follow her, drifting over to the fitting-room area. Along with four dressing rooms, the large space offered two plush red velvet chairs.
Hayden sank into one of the chairs and reached for the bowl of heart-shaped mints Darcy left out for her customers. Popping a mint into her mouth, she studied her friend, who still looked upset.
“Wow, this flower thing is really bugging you.”
Darcy flopped down and crossed her arms over her chest, her face turning as red as the hair on her head. “Of course it bugs me. It’s not normal.”
“No, you’re not normal. Men give women flowers all the time. It’s not poor Jason’s fault he picked you as the recipient.”
“We went out for smoothies after yoga and fooled around in his car when he dropped me off at home.” Darcy made a frustrated sound. “How in bloody hell does that warrant flowers?”
“What did the card say?” Hayden asked curiously.
“‘I hope to see you again soon.’”
She was about to comment on Jason’s thoughtfulness but stopped herself. She knew how Darcy felt about relationships. The first sign of commitment had her fleeing for the exit and looking for the next one-night stand. But it really was too bad. This Jason guy sounded as nice as Doug.
Fuck. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t think about Doug today.
She still hadn’t returned his call, and when she woke up this morning there’d been another message from him. How could she call him back, though? She’d only been gone a week and already she’d jumped into bed with another man. She wondered how nice Doug would be when she told him about that.
“I’m going to have to find a new gym,” Darcy grumbled, her blue eyes darkening with irritation. She started fidgeting. Crossed her legs, then uncrossed them, clasped her hands together, then drummed them against the arms of the chair.
Hayden could tell her friend was about to explode. Any minute now…
No, any second now…
“What is the matter with the penis species?” Darcy burst out. “They claim that we’re the needy ones, calling us clingy and high-maintenance, accusing us of being obsessed with love and marriage and babies. When really, it’s what they want. They’re the mushy ones, sending flowers as if a smoothie and a back-seat blow job qualify as a monumental event that needs to be celebrated…” Darcy’s voice trailed as she heaved a sigh. “I’m obviously going to have to set him straight.”
“At least thank him for the flowers.”
“I already called and did that. But I think I need to make another call and make sure Jason knows what happened between us won’t go any further. Like the way you set your hottie straight.”
“Right. About that…you’re not going to believe this.”
She quickly filled her friend in on her visit to the arena and how she’d run into Brody outside the locker room.
“He’s a hockey player? I bet you were just thrilled to find that out.” Darcy grinned. “You told him to get lost, right?”
“Um…”
Darcy’s jaw dropped. “Hayden! You slept with him again, didn’t you?”
“Not exactly. I did go out for a drink with him, though.”
“And?”
Hayden told her about the under-the-table orgasm. When her friend shook her head, she added, “I couldn’t help it! He just started…you know…and it was really good…” Her voice drifted.
“You have no self-control.” Darcy shot her a weary look and asked, “Are you going to call him?”
“I don’t know. God knows I want to. But calling him defeats the purpose of a one-night stand.” She groaned. “I just wanted some stress-busting sex. And now I’m even more stressed out.”
“So tell him to take a hike. You’ve got enough on your plate without an arrogant hockey player demanding overtime sex.”
Hayden laughed. “He is pretty determined.” She remembered the passion flaring in his eyes when he’d brought her to climax yesterday. “He’s driving me crazy, Darce.”
“Good crazy or bad crazy?”
“Both.” A shaky breath exited her throat. “When I’m with him all I can think about is ripping off his clothes, and when I’m not with him all I can think about is ripping off his clothes.”
“I don’t see the bad part here.”
She bit her bottom lip. “He’s a hockey player. You know how I feel about that.” She blew out a frustrated breath. “I don’t want to date anyone involved in sports. God, I fucking hated it when Dad used to coach. No real place to call home, no friends. Hell, my friendship with you is the only one that lasted, and half of it took place via text.”
Reaching for another mint, she popped it into her mouth and bit it in half, taking out her frustration on the candy.
“I don’t want to date a guy who spends half the year flying to other states so he can skate around an ice rink. And besides, I’m dealing with too much other stuff at the moment. The franchise is taking some heat, Dad’s dumping all his Sheila problems on me, and Doug has already called twice wanting to talk about us. I can’t launch myself into another relationship right now.” She set her jaw, practically daring Darcy to challenge her.
Which, of course, she did.
“You know what I think?” Darcy said. “You’re making too big a deal out of this.”
“Oh, really?”
Darcy leaned back in her chair and pushed a strand of bright red hair behind her ear. “You’re only in town for a couple months, babe. What’s the problem with having some fun in the sack while you’re here?”
“What happened to your one-night-stand speech?”
“Apparently, it isn’t working out for you.” Darcy shrugged. “But you seem to believe it’s black-and-white, one-night stand or relationship. You’re forgetting about the gray area between the two extremes.”
“Gray area?”
“It’s called a fling.”
“A fling.”
She’d never been a casual-fling girl, but then again, she hadn’t thought she was a one-night girl, either. Maybe a fling with Brody wouldn’t be so disastrous. It wasn’t like he wanted to marry her or anything. He just wanted to burn up the sheets for a while longer, continue the fantasy…
But if she agreed to let one night lead into a fling, who’s to say the fling wouldn’t then lead to something more?
“I don’t know. Brody is a distraction I can’t deal with at the moment.” She paused, her mouth twisting ruefully. “But my body seems to have a mind of its own whenever he’s around.”
“So take control of your body,” Darcy suggested.
“Okay. How do I do that?”
“I don’t know, next time you get the urge to jump Brody Croft’s bones, try an alternative. Watch some porn or something.”
A laugh tickled Hayden’s throat. “That’s your answer? Watch porn?”
Darcy grinned. “Sure. At least you won’t be thinking about Mr. Hockey when you’re busy getting turned on by other men.”
“Right, because the men in porn are so wildly attractive,” Hayden said with a snort.
“Just don’t look at their faces. Focus on the huge dicks.”
Hayden rolled her eyes. “If I watch anything tonight, it’ll be that new van Gogh documentary on Netflix.”
Darcy released an exaggerated sigh. “A man who cut off his own ear is not sexy, Hayden.”
“Neither is porn.” She glanced at her watch, eyes widening. “Shit. I’ve gotta go. I’m supposed to give a deposition today about Sheila’s state of mind when she signed the prenup.”
“Sounds like a blast. Unfortunately, I left my party shoes at home so I can’t come with you.”
They wandered over to the door. Darcy unlocked it and held it open, her attention straying back to the flowers poking out of the wastebasket.
“At least your guy only wants sex,” Darcy said, looking envious.
“Brody is not my guy,” she responded, hoping if she said the words out loud she might convince her traitorous body of it. “Are we still on for dinner tomorrow?”
“As long as it’s Mexican. I’m feeling spicy. Enjoy the deposition,” Darcy called as Hayden slid out the door.
“Enjoy the flowers,” Hayden called back.
She turned in time to see her best friend flipping her the bird.
“Thank you, Hayden,” announced Diana Krueger, Presley’s divorce attorney. “We’re finished here.”
Hayden smoothed out the front of her black skirt and rose to her feet. Next to her, her father stood as well. On the other side of the large oval conference table of the Krueger and Bates deposition room, Sheila Houston and her lawyer were huddled together, whispering to each other.
Hayden couldn’t help but stare at her stepmother, still as startled by Sheila’s appearance as she’d been when the woman first strode into the law office. The last time Hayden had come to town, Sheila looked as if she’d stepped from the pages of a fashion magazine. Long blond hair brushed to a shine, features flawless and perfectly made up, expensive clothes hugging her tall, slender body.
This time Sheila looked…haggard. Much older than her twenty-eight years and far more miserable than Hayden had expected her to be. Her hair hung limply over her shoulders, her normally dazzling blue eyes were distressed and she’d lost at least fifteen pounds, which made her willowy shape look far too fragile.
Though she hated feeling even an ounce of sympathy for the woman who was making her father’s life hell, Hayden had to wonder if Sheila was taking this divorce process a lot harder than Presley had let on. Either that, or she was devastated by the thought of losing that yacht she’d forced Presley to buy.
“Thanks for doing this, sweetheart,” her father said quietly as they exited the conference room. “It means so much that you’re going to bat for your old man.”
For the third time in the past hour, Hayden noticed her dad’s slightly glazed, bloodshot eyes and wondered if he’d had something to drink before coming here. His breath smelled like toothpaste and cigars, but she got a wary feeling when she looked at him.
No, she was being silly. He was probably just tired.
“I’m happy to help,” she answered with a reassuring smile.
He touched her arm. “Do you need a ride back to the suite?”
“No, I’ve got my rental.”
“All right.” He nodded. “I forgot to mention it last time I saw you, but the annual Gallagher Club fundraiser is next Sunday. Eight o’clock.”
Which you will attend, was the unspoken rest of that sentence.
Awesome. She hated those kinds of events, especially the ones held at the prestigious gentlemen’s club her dad was a member of. It was always a bunch of creepy older men hitting on her while their wives pretended not to notice.
Her father must have noticed her reluctance because he frowned slightly. “I’d like you to be there, Hayden. A lot of my friends want to see you. When you were here over the holidays you declined all their invitations.”
Because I wanted to see you, she almost blurted. But she held her tongue. She knew her father liked showing her off to his wealthy friends and boasting about her academic credentials—something he didn’t seem to care about when they were alone.
She swallowed the slight sting of bitterness. Considering they’d just spent an hour with the woman determined to bleed him dry, Hayden figured she ought to cut her dad some slack.
“I’ll be there,” she promised.
“Good.”
After they said their goodbyes, she watched her father hurry out of the elegant lobby onto the street as if he were being chased by a killer. Not a stretch, seeing as the law firm was called Krueger and Bates. Hayden wondered if she was the only one who’d made the connection.
“Hayden, wait.”
She stopped at the massive glass entrance doors, suppressing an inward groan at the sound of her stepmother’s voice.
Hayden turned slowly.
“I just…” Sheila looked surprisingly nervous as she plowed ahead. “I wanted to tell you there are no hard feelings. I know you’re trying to protect your father.”
Hayden’s eyebrows said hello to her hairline. No hard feelings? Sheila was in the process of sucking the money out of Presley’s bank accounts like a greedy leech and she wanted to make sure there were no hard feelings?
Hayden could only stare at the woman, dumbfounded.
Sheila hurried on. “I know you’ve never liked me, and I don’t blame you. It’s always hard to watch a parent remarry, and I’m sure it doesn’t help that I’m only two years older than you.” She offered a timid smile.
“We really shouldn’t be talking.” Her voice was cool. “It’s a conflict of interest.”
“I know.” Sheila ran one hand through her hair, looking sad. “But I just wanted you to know that I still care about your father. I care about him a lot.”
To Hayden’s absolute shock, a couple of tears trickled from the corners of Sheila’s eyes. Even more shocking, the tears didn’t look like the crocodile variety.
“If you care, then why are you trying to take everything he owns?” she couldn’t help but snap.
A flash of petulant anger crossed Sheila’s face. Yup. There was the Sheila she knew. Hayden had seen that look plenty of times before, usually when Sheila was trying to convince Presley to buy something outrageous and not getting her way.
“I’m entitled to something,” Sheila said defensively, “after everything that man put me through.”
Right, because Sheila’s life was so unpleasant. Living in a mansion, wearing haute couture, not paying a dime for anything…
“I know you think I’m the bad guy here, but you need to know that everything I’ve done is a result of… No, I’m not going to blame Pres.” The tears returned, and Sheila wiped her wet eyes with a shaky hand. “I saw that he was spiraling, and I didn’t try to help him. I was the one who sent him into another woman’s arms.”
“Pardon me?” A knot of anger and disbelief twined Hayden’s insides together like a pretzel. Sheila was actually insinuating that Presley had been the one to stray? That was preposterous, and her dislike for the woman quickly doubled.
Sheila eyed her knowingly. “I guess he left out that part.”
“I have to get going,” Hayden said stiffly, her jaw so tense that her teeth were beginning to ache.
“I don’t care what you think of me. I only want you to take care of your father, Hayden. I think he’s started drinking again and I just want to make sure someone is looking out for him.”
Without issuing a goodbye, Sheila left the building.
Hayden watched as her stepmother disappeared down the busy sidewalk, swallowed up by Chicago’s afternoon lunch crowd.
She couldn’t will herself to move.
Lies. It had to be lies, right? Her father would never break his marriage vows by hopping into bed with another woman. Sheila was in the wrong. She had to be.
I think he’s started drinking again.
The comment replayed in Hayden’s brain, making her toy nervously with the hem of her thin blue sweater. She’d thought her father’s eyes had looked bleary… And, fine, maybe he did have a drink or two before coming here, but Sheila’s remark implied that Presley’s drinking went beyond today. That at some point in time he’d suffered from an alcohol problem.
Was it true?
And if so, how hadn’t she known about it? She might not visit often, thanks to her hectic schedule at the university, but she spoke to her father at least once a week and he always sounded normal. Sober. Wouldn’t she have suspected something if he had a drinking problem?
Lies.
She clung to that one word as she pushed the strap of her purse higher on her shoulder and stepped through the doors. Sucking in a gust of fresh air, she headed for her rental, forcefully pushing every word Sheila had spoken out of her mind.
