Wendy Etherington - The Right Bed?

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KATE HOFFMANNbegan writing in 1993. Since then she’s published sixty books, primarily in the Temptation and Blaze ®lines. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys music, theatre and musical theatre. She is active working with high school students in the performing arts. She lives in southeastern Wisconsin with her two cats, Chloe and Tally.

HUGE SNOWFLAKES drifted down through the night sky, spattering against the windshield of Caley Lambert’s rental car. She watched through tired eyes as the wipers slapped them away, the rhythmic sound lulling her toward complete exhaustion. Her eyelids fluttered and she felt herself drifting, then reached down and opened the window.

The chilly night air was a slap to the face and Caley drew a deep breath. The flight from New York had been late getting into Chicago and by the time she’d arrived, the airport hotel had given away her room. Left with nowhere to sleep, she’d decided to drive the two hours to her parents’ lake house rather than waste time searching for a room.

It wasn’t so much an urge to get home that sent her into the midst of a snowstorm, but the fact that Caley just hated wasting time. After eleven years of living in Manhattan and seven years of working the cutthroat world of public relations, she’d learned to be very efficient with every minute of her day. She didn’t waste time on anything that couldn’t get her ahead in the world professionally. She worked out because the gym was a good place to network. She belonged to seven different professional organizations because all those names looked good on her résumé. And she had worked sixteen-hour days for seven years because that was the way to get herself a partnership.

“So what am I doing in North Lake, Wisconsin?” she muttered.

Her younger sister, Emma, had called a few weeks ago, insisting that Caley come home for the week before Valentine’s Day. Emma had a very special event planned at the lake house, but she refused to give any details, only that every one of the Lamberts should be in attendance. Caley’s parents had been married on Valentine’s Day thirty years ago, so it hadn’t been difficult to guess at the purpose of her sister’s plans.

An electronic version of Mozart’s “Eine Kleine Nachtmusik” interrupted Caley’s thoughts and she glanced over at her cell phone sitting on the passenger seat. Snatching it up, she looked at the caller ID, then tossed it back onto the seat. Brian. He’d called at least twenty times since she’d left New York for a business trip in San Francisco a few days ago. So far she’d avoided answering.

She and Brian had been exclusive for nearly two years and he’d planned to come to North Lake with her and meet the family. But at the last minute, he’d canceled, begging off because of work commitments. It was at that moment Caley realized her relationship with Brian had become a waste of time. Between out-of-town business trips and busy schedules, they’d spent three nights together in the past month—not much considering they lived in the same apartment.

She squinted through the snow, searching for the sign pointing to West Shore Road. There was a time when she’d known every inch of the tiny town of North Lake. She’d spent every summer of her life here until she’d gone to college.

Even after years of being away from this place, and in the midst of a chilly winter night, she felt a familiar sense of excitement course through her. She remembered the frantic packing the day after school let out for the summer. And then came the ride from Chicago to the lake in an overstuffed minivan, her mother behind the wheel. Her older brother, Evan, always sat in the front and controlled the radio while Caley sat between her younger siblings Emma and Adam. The youngest, Teddy, was wedged into the far back seat between the suitcases and the boxes of kitchen supplies. Her younger siblings had always worn their swimming suits on the ride up so they could jump out of the car and into the lake without having to change.

But Caley had always had other things on her mind. With each mile that passed, she’d grown more excited, the anticipation building, the nerves fraying. What would he look like? Would he be exactly as she remembered or would he have changed? Had she changed? Would he see her differently? Would this summer finally be the summer when she’d kiss him?

Year after year, drive after drive, her every thought had always been focused on him. Even now, Caley found herself falling back into old habits. Jake Burton. He’d been her fairy-tale prince, her knight in shining armor, her schoolgirl crush and her first love, all wrapped up into one incredibly hot boy.

His family had the summerhouse next door. They’d all summered together for years: the five Lamberts and the five Burtons, an unruly tribe of kids known around North Lake as the Burtberts. For years she’d looked at Jake like her older brother, Evan—an icky, gross, burping and spitting cad who had more cooties than she cared to count.

Then, one day they were swimming out to the raft and Jake dunked her under. She’d gone under as an eleven-year-old girl and surfaced a teenager with her first crush. He’d been thirteen that summer and a handsome boy. Even now she recalled his pale blue eyes and his perfect teeth. How little droplets of water had clung to his dark eyelashes as he smiled at her and how his face was so smooth and tanned she felt compelled to reach out and touch his cheek.

When she had, Jake had slapped her hand away, a confused frown wrinkling his forehead. But from that moment on, she’d been in love. It was only later that her hormones had turned chaste puppy love to teenage lust. And later still to feelings that bordered on obsession and finally, ended in humiliation.

She drew in a deep breath and sighed. Over the past eleven years, she’d managed to visit the lake house only when Jake was certain to be elsewhere. Yet, with each visit she’d secretly hoped that maybe she’d run into him again, maybe she’d have a chance to undo the mess she’d made the night of her eighteenth birthday.

Her phone rang again and Caley cursed as she picked it up. But this time, she didn’t recognize the number, only the Manhattan area code. Now that she’d been named a partner, her boss was free to call her at any time, day or night, and John Walters had taken advantage of that fact more than once. Caley wondered what kind of emergency had come up at nearly 4:00 a.m. Manhattan time.

She flipped open the phone and held it to her ear. “Hello?”

“I figured you were screening so I was forced to call from the payphone on the corner.”