Natalie Anderson - In Bed With the Enemy

Furiously he mopped up the mess and took a shower. Stewed over the last hour. So she’d had what she wanted and apparently she didn’t want it again. Didn’t want anything else. Didn’t give a damn. Hell, she couldn’t have spelt it out more clearly—all she’d wanted was a quick shag on the floor.

By rights that should be nothing for him to get upset about—wasn’t that exactly the uncomplicated kind of hook-up he enjoyed? So why the hell was he feeling so bitter and twisted?

Because he wanted more. He wanted her again—now. But he also wanted to spar some more, and alternately laugh with it. He totally got off on the challenges she threw his way. He liked just being near her almost as much as he liked being in her. He shivered, his skin going goosefleshy despite the fact he was now standing under a jet of hot water. He crashed out of the shower, shrugged into some clothes and went to make coffee, still feeling cold despite the warmth of the late afternoon. Sick. That was the problem. Summer flu or something. That was the reason for the whole body ache.

Nadia hid in her house—blinds down like a bat avoiding the last of the sunlight. She dreaded Ethan’s next blog post. How honest was he going to be? And how honest was she going to be? She couldn’t regret having sex with him, but it had been reckless and no way could she do it again—despite the itch already spreading in her veins.

She clicked “refresh” on his blog for the forty thousandth time. It was official. She now had OCD. But still there was nothing. Blog silence. She showered and slipped into one of the “limited edition”—five hundred had been the minimum order—WomanBWarned tee shirts she’d had printed, and that were now stacked in a box tower in the corner of her room. She’d sold four. But that was a start, right?

Ugh. She turned her back on them and hurried back to the lounge to check his blog again. Then, when there was nothing, her e-mail. There were several posts to the forum that she should respond to. Later.

She opened a message from Megan, which included a picture of her sailing around some idyllic Greek isle with Sam.

OMG, we (and the rest of the planet) are so ablog over your war with the Ethan guy—too funny. You’ve so got to put him in his place. He sounds hot, tho—he’s a possible if it weren’t for the ego, right? So who cares about the ego? Just have some fun!

Um, yeah, she’d tried that. Succeeded too—until the doubts had needled in only seconds after her multiple-orgasmic warmth had started to fade. As for putting him in his place—yeah, right. She was going to. But the wish to do that had receded—there were other things she wanted now. Like to know more about him.

She curled her feet up beneath her in her big, comfy swivel chair and stared at the font he’d chosen for his GuysGetWise banner. It, like the rest of him, told her nothing. What more did she know of him after two dates? Even now she’d had sex with him did she really know him any better? Oh, sure, she knew he was quick-witted, that he had a wickedly infectious laugh, and that when he looked at her she felt like the most captivating woman on the planet—but beyond that?

Frowning, she leaned over her keyboard. She clicked into her own blog and started typing.

The Day Date

Okay, I admit it, as I did on the first date—I broke a couple of my own rules. Last time it worked against me. This time I hoped it would help me get one up on him. But it didn’t—if anything it backfired completely. So take heed of those tips, girls. They’re there for good reason.

In fairness—and I am trying to be fair here—Ethan is a nice guy. He makes an effort, he’s generous and, yes, he knows how to make a woman feel good. He’s courteous, he’s chivalrous, he’s protective. Oh, and he can talk flirt’n’dirt like no one else on earth.

Yet there’s so much that you just don’t get to know. He’ll get intimate physically, if that’s something you want. But emotionally?

That’s a total no-go. I know as little of anything meaningful about him as I did before date one.

In my last post I questioned whether there was anything beneath that charming, handsome surface of his. But now I ask why is he so determined to hide whatever there may be?

Is it his way of maintaining his “mystery”? Because, if so, then hats off to him—because curiosity is a thing that will hook a woman. Yeah, his tease and trap plan works. But then he still doesn’t share anything about himself, his family, what he cares about. And for most women sharing bodies isn’t enough.

So what is it he’s afraid to reveal? Maybe it’s just that there really is nothing there. He’s simply superficial. So he limits the length of the game because he knows his own limitations—and that if you go for anything more than three dates, you’re going to know it too.

Ethan stared at her blog, the churning lava of his temper boiling ever closer to eruption. A reaction that he knew was more extreme than her words warranted—for had she fabricated? Had she kissed and told?

No. That was honesty he was reading, and she’d been honest and open in a surprisingly discreet way. Some hints that really only he would pick up. There was no denial of what had happened, but no blow-by-blow account either. He guessed she’d neither confirm nor deny when her blog followers asked the inevitable “did you do him?” question. Which was exactly how he’d respond when his readers asked him.

She’d done okay with her write-up. But still he hated every word. Most especially that “Ethan is a nice guy” bit. Ugh—nice. What kind of a word was nice ? It was ironic that he’d always tried to be nice and now he was it seemed as flavoursome as dishwater. He didn’t want to be so average, as if he was some loser she had to be kind to. He didn’t need her generous, not-particularly-moved judgement, thanks.

And, while she admitted a smidgeon of responsibility, she still laid too much at his door. What was the crap about not knowing anything more about him? She couldn’t blame that on him. Date one she’d been too busy talking about herself—which admittedly he’d engineered. Date two she hadn’t asked. She’d just got out of there as fast as she could. She hadn’t so much as glanced round his apartment, hadn’t asked about his work or life or anything. She’d screwed, then scarpered. So how was her not getting to know him more a result of him “hiding”? What was it she wanted to know, exactly? Should he draw up a list of his favourite things? His most happy memory? It was rubbish. If she’d wanted to get to know him then she should have stuck around and spent more time with him.

He knocked back his coffee in one gulp—and got the bitter bits at the bottom. Grimacing, he stabbed the keyboard.

Was Date Number 2 Nailed?

With that pathetic start, he stopped. He really didn’t want to answer it. Didn’t know how he could without admitting what had happened—which he really didn’t want to do. He didn’t kiss and tell. Right to his bones he now regretted the whole online blog thing. It was such a stupid idea, and it had dumped him into something he didn’t quite know how to climb out of. But he couldn’t just delete the thing because he refused to let it be over with her. And the three dates deal was the one way he could catch her again. Yes, he wanted to catch her one more time. Catch her and blow her mind. So he had to respond now.

Tease and trap—mission accomplished.

A surprisingly honest OlderNWiser even says it herself: the technique works. But she also points out the major flaw—it’s only successful for a limited time.