Lori Foster - The Guy Next Door

“Jamie,” she whispered. “Listen. I’m not really…” Whatever she’d been about to say, she snapped her mouth shut when a voice passed close to the doorway. Her eyes stayed on the door until the voice faded. Then she took a deep breath.

“What?” he asked.

She shook her head. Her gaze slipped to the floor. “Nothing. It’s just that I’m going to be really busy for a while.” The words excused her from any further contact with him. He could see that plain as day. Disappointment passed over him in waves equal to his relief. Sex classes. Maybe their connection was best left as an amazing memory.

“It’s fine,” he said slowly. “I just wanted to say goodbye.”

“Oh.” The tension faded from her face, and she met his eyes again.

“I don’t want this to be awkward,” he said.

She tilted her head and studied him before reaching up to put her hand to his cheek. “There’s nothing awkward here. Or complicated. Nothing we need to explain. Last night was a wonder. So thank you.”

“Beth—”

She snuck close again, wrapping her arms around his neck for a hug. The faint scent of her skin was a beacon, drawing him near. He forgot his guilt over not telling her the truth. She was right. It would be awful to ruin that night with awkwardness now. He pressed his mouth to her neck and whispered, “I think the wrong person is saying thank you.”

“Oh, no. You have my eternal gratitude.”

He was smiling when she kissed him, and it seemed appropriate for such a gentle press of her lips. And in that moment, all his conflicting emotions smoothed out into a long, easy line of happy satisfaction. Last night had been a great idea, and he wasn’t going to have another moment of regret over it.

“You were just what I needed,” she said.

“An embarrassingly preppy one-night stand?”

She ran a hand over the collar of his polo shirt. “An embarrassingly preppy one-night stand who rocked my world. But don’t tell. You’ll ruin my reputation.”

“It’ll be our secret,” he said, a hot thrill circling his chest at the words.

They didn’t bother with any polite offers of future phone calls or friendly promises to be in touch. Beth whispered, “Good luck with Kendall,” against his cheek. He kissed her one last time. She slipped away. And he let her go.

He had to learn how to let things go, after all. He’d start with Beth Cantrell. Maybe in a few months, he’d work on loosening his iron grip on the Donovan family business. Maybe.

But the memory of last night? That was a secret he’d never give up. He’d never share. And no one would ever find out.