Page 13 of Just for Tonight

“Have you seen that place?”

I smile because I have – and then I make an impulsive choice. Maybe I do feel sorry for him, just a little bit. “The corporate condo in Havelock that we use for short term rentals is available this week, if that would suit you, Mr. Wickham. I can send you the booking link.”

“Perfect,” he purrs and gives me an email address.

If I’m expecting a promise or an offer, I’ll be disappointed. As soon as I get his info, he ends the call with a curt thank-you-very-much.

The man was raised by wolves.

Of course, he was. Patrick Cavendish was his father.

I email him the link. I get a notification several seconds later of his booking, and approve it. The unit has a keypad entry and the site sends directions and details to all bookings automatically on the day of their scheduled arrival. Jake will get that right away. I set my notifications to let me know when he’s entered the unit, smile at my friends and put my phone away.

“Twenty-four seven,” Cameron says with a shake of her head. They’re used to me working all the time, and I don’t mind being teased about it.

“No rest for the wicked,” I agree and toast them all with my wine.

It’ll take him thirty minutes to get there, at least, so I have some time to decide what (if anything) I’m going to do about knowing where Jake is sleeping tonight.

More than that. I have the duplicate keys.

Who am I kidding?

Long before the notification comes through, I know what I’m going to do. I know he won’t turn me away either.

He called me Isobelle.

We both want the same thing. Maybe he remembers and wants more. Maybe I can’t believe my memories are reliable and want to double check.

Maybe the second time will be a disappointment and I’ll be able to forget about him.

Maybe the details don’t matter.

My phone pings with the notification that Jake’s arrived at the townhouse. My heart takes a leap like it’s joined the acrobats of the Cirque de Soleil.

I finish my wine, apologize for needing an early night, and leave the café.

I have almost a full tank of gas which could be an omen – or a green light.

Instead of going home, I take the road to Havelock.

Will Jake be expecting me? I’m thinking he will be. I make a bet with myself that he’s having a shower right this minute and I lower my foot on the gas, smiling in anticipation.

3

Jake

Will she come? Won’t she come?

My thoughts are spinning when I leave the café and I have to make sure I don’t drive too fast. I remember how enthusiastic the cops are out here about speeders.

But I feel like I’ve stuck my finger in an electrical socket. She’s Mackenzie Rhodes. Mackenzie Rhodes! I feel like a moron for not realizing that night who Isobelle really was. The French accent fooled me.

Okay, the French accent beguiled me. Call it a weakness.

I should have recognized her. I remember her from high school and though it’s been a while, she’s not that different. Still gorgeous in that understated no-make-up-no-fuss kind of way. Still tall and blonde. Still cool and composed – but a tigress in bed. That I wouldn’t have expected. A total bonus.

Then tonight, looking so indifferent, as if she had no idea who I was, as if she’d forgotten four years of high school as well as that night.