Wendy Etherington - The Right Bed?

It had been eleven years. Maybe it was time to let it go, Caley mused. She’d been a kid with a crush. She hadn’t seen Jake since the night before she left for NYU. Until now, the memory of that night had always brought a surge of regret and utter humiliation.

They were adults now and if he wanted to rehash her silly teenage indiscretion, then she would simply refuse to discuss it. Certainly he’d made mistakes in his youth that he didn’t want brought up around his family. Caley tried to think of one or two just in case she needed ammunition.

They had gotten into all sorts of trouble as kids. Even now, Caley was amazed that she’d managed to avoid a life as a juvenile delinquent. But she and Jake had been a pair and she’d been the only one of the Burtberts who ever accepted his dares.

She smiled. Once, they’d caught a squirrel in a live trap and let it go inside the police chief’s cruiser. Then there had been the time she and Jake had stolen a bike from the town bully. The next morning, the kid found his bike bobbing up and down on the raft just off the public beach. That trick had gained them a lot of admirers, although they never admitted to it. And then, there had been all those times they’d broken into their “fortress,” a deserted summerhouse on the east shore.

The house was dark and silent as she slipped inside. No one ever locked the door when the family was at home. She stood in the spacious foyer and took a deep breath, the familiar scent teasing at her nose—a mix of the lake and leaves, old wood and furniture polish and the vanilla candles her mother loved to burn to take the damp out of the air. Once, she’d known every inch of this house, every secret hiding place, every sun-drenched window. It had been her very own castle.

Caley slowly climbed the stairs then walked down the hall to her bedroom. But when she pushed the door open, she saw the room was already occupied—Evan’s kids, two in the bed and the youngest in a portable crib.

She carefully closed the door and walked across the hall. Emma would probably have room in her bed. She slipped inside her sister’s room and closed the door behind her. Caley set her bag down and walked to the bed. The room was chilly and Emma had found a down comforter and was buried beneath it, her pillow pulled over her head.

“Em?” Caley whispered as she stood over the bed. She shrugged out of her jacket and kicked off her shoes. Emma had always been a heavy sleeper. Caley sat on the edge of the bed. She could probably find an empty couch downstairs, but she was too exhausted to search. She’d catch a few hours’ sleep and check into the inn for a long nap in the morning.

Caley slipped out of her jeans and crawled beneath the comforter, pulling it up to her chin. She closed her eyes, her mind drifting back to the last summer she’d spent at the lake house. Jake had been home from college that summer after his sophomore year. From the moment he’d arrived, Caley had been completely and thoroughly obsessed with him. He was gorgeous, lean and tanned and so incredibly sexy that Caley was sure she would die if she couldn’t be with him.

The summer had passed, Caley trying anything and everything to get him to notice her. Finally, on the night of her eighteenth birthday party, she had decided to make a bold move. College was just a few days away and she didn’t want to leave for NYU a virgin. So she’d screwed up her courage, gotten Jake alone on the beach, torn off her shirt and asked him to make a woman out of her.

Caley groaned inwardly, pulling the comforter up to her nose. Even after all these years, the thought of her stupid offer was enough to bring a blush to her cheeks. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer that Jake wouldn’t show up in North Lake until she was gone.

He was probably miles away, Caley mused. Maybe even sleeping beside another woman. She frowned at the tiny sliver of jealousy that pricked at her thoughts. The torch she’d carried for Jake had been extinguished a long time ago. It wasn’t jealousy. Closer to envy, Caley thought, for she had imagined Jake happy and settled and maybe even in love.

He probably had everything in life he’d ever wanted. And she was still trying to figure out what she needed to make herself happy. Caley thought she’d have all the answers by the time she was thirty. Now, her twenty-ninth birthday was just a few months away. There wasn’t much time left.

Maybe a week away from New York and the life she’d built there would give her some perspective, a quiet moment to figure things out. Caley yawned, threw her arm over her eyes. She’d have plenty of time to think about all this tomorrow. Right now, she needed sleep.

THE SOUND OF A CELL PHONE ringing dragged Jake Burton out of a deep and comfortable sleep. He groaned softly, then realized that the electronic jingle didn’t belong to his phone. It was only then that Jake felt the warm body beside him.

At first he thought he was dreaming, but the weight of her leg thrown across his thighs was real, as was the citrusy scent of her hair. He tried to move his arm and found her head nestled against his shoulder.

A name , he thought to himself. He was in bed with a woman and he couldn’t remember her name. Though he’d indulged in a number of one-night stands in the past, he’d pretty much given that up as of late.

The phone continued to ring and then stopped suddenly. Where had they met? Where had he been last night? Jake waited for the signs of a raging hangover to seep into his consciousness, but strangely enough, he knew he hadn’t been drinking. If that was the case, then why couldn’t he remember the woman?

“Think,” he whispered as he slowly opened his eyes. His surroundings were completely unfamiliar. But then, slowly, he realized where he was. The Lamberts’ lake house. Emma’s bedroom. But if that was where he was, then who the hell was in bed with him? Surely not his future sister-in-law!

He pushed up on his elbow and squinted at the clock. Six a.m. He looked down at his bedmate, then carefully brushed the wavy dark hair away from her face. “Oh, shit,” he muttered, snatching his hand away. It had been years—eleven, to be exact—but there was no mistaking that beautiful profile, the upturned nose with the light dusting of freckles, the flawless skin and the long lashes.

She was exactly as he’d remembered her, only Caley Lambert was no longer a gawky teenage girl. She was a woman. His gaze drifted down to her lips, soft and full and slightly parted. A very sexy, soft, warm woman. But what the hell was she doing in his bed?

Jake fought the urge to bend closer and touch her face. God, he remembered those urges. Funny how they all came back so quickly. Just how many times had he thought about kissing Caley Lambert over the course of his life? A hundred, maybe two hundred?

The summer she’d turned eighteen it was all he could do to keep his hands off of her, from the moment he’d arrived at the lake house until the moment he’d left. He’d deliberately avoided her, just so he wouldn’t have to think about it.

And now he had the chance. Why not take it? Why not see what he’d been missing all these years? He smoothed her hair away from her face and leaned over, then touched his lips to hers. As he drew back, she stirred and her eyes fluttered. A sigh slipped from her lips and she smiled.

Jake watched her warily. She obviously wanted something to happen between them or she wouldn’t have crawled into bed with him. It was a pretty bold move, considering her parents were sleeping just down the hall. But Caley had been known for her bold moves and she obviously had become bolder since he’d last seen her. She lived in Manhattan. Hell, he’d seen Sex and the City . He knew what single women in New York were like.