Page 19 of Just for Tonight

There’s a fluffy throw blanket on the end of the couch, so I tuck it over him, sweeping one hand over his hair with an affection that catches me off-guard. There’s something tight in my chest that I can’t explain, but I force myself to step away, to go home.

I’m still thinking about Jake when I get into my own bed, and it’s not just about lost opportunity. But that’s silly. There can’t be more. It’s my own mantra. One-and-done is my rule and his. I don’t know him. I don’t know much about him and that’s how it’s going to stay.

Tonight might have been a second indulgence, but we dodged that bullet.

It’s over.

I should be glad. I should be relieved.

But I’m not.

I’ll just have to live with that.

5

Jake

I wake up on the floor of an unfamiliar living room, warm and cozy. It’s 5:43 and after I look at my watch, it takes me a second or six to remember where I am.

Then I realize the mortifying truth, not only of where I am but who was with me.

I fell asleep.

I. Fell. Asleep.

With Mackenzie Rhodes giving me a massage, her long legs wrapped around my waist and her elegant hands working magic on me.

I fell asleep.

It would be funny if it happened to anyone else.

It’s not funny because it happened to me. I roll to my back, stare at the ceiling, and swear with the enthusiasm I share for special moments like this one. The woman who has been haunting my dreams came back for another round and I fell asleep.

I’ll never forgive myself for this.

Chances are pretty good Mackenzie won’t either.

She’s gone, of course. The wine is recorked and in the fridge. The glasses are washed and put away. Once again, it’s like she was never here. Although I can live with delusions like this, especially the part before I pass out, I’d much rather wake up in bed spooned around her back with her hair in my face. No, that’s never happened. She’s always gone when I wake up.

No doubt about it. I am losing my edge.

I put on the coffee, then shower and shave again. It’s day two of Operation Executor and I have so much work to do. That’s enough to give me purpose. My boss gave me the standard three days off, with reluctance, and I’m not dumb enough to push my luck on this.

Just with Mackenzie.

I could roar with frustration at myself, but instead, I knot my tie and head out.

First stop, Richard Bradshaw’s office.

I like Richard Bradshaw.

It’s not because he was probably the closest thing to a friend that my father had, that’s for sure. It’s not because he’s well-groomed and well-mannered, polite to a fault even. It’s not even because he’s good at what he does, or admits when he has to double check on some unfamiliar detail – or even that he always follows through.

No, it’s because he’s organized. I have nothing but respect for anyone who can run a meeting, stick to the point and/or keep projects on track. Survive one year in any job when you have way too much responsibility for however many hours in a day you work, and you will come to share my appreciation.

An estate the size of my father’s is never going to be quick to settle. Being his executor is, in fact, a second job and one I don’t have time for. On the other hand, I didn’t want anyone else to muck it up and I am best qualified for the task of all my siblings. My father chose well in that, at least. I’ve planned a strategy based on my initial review of the files and I share it this morning with Richard. He tactfully tweaks my plan, adjusting for the urgency of some items.

On a notepad, he makes a list of what he’ll need for the next component of my plan. I’ve been in his office for fifteen minutes and am pretty much ready to go. I know that’s because of Richard’s efficiency.