Page 46 of Just for Tonight

“I won’t. I promise. I’ll be in the shower.”

I see a glimmer of blue as his eyes open just a little. “There’s temptation.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“Promises, promises,” Jake murmurs, but his words slow and he drifts off to sleep.

I know I should get up, but I don’t move. I watch him, noting how much gentler he looks in sleep. Less formidable, but just as handsome. Not vulnerable, exactly, but maybe less of a fortress. His arms are still around me, and his body is warm. I forget the shower, slowly moving so that we’re lying side by side, my head on his shoulder, my hand on his chest.

I’m always on the go. I’m always moving to the next thing, but in this moment, I’m just savouring the moment with Jake. I know this night will end, it has to, but I want to capture this instant forever.

And there in the darkness, I start to wonder if this could be more because Jake is different. My friends are always looking for love, romance and happily-ever-after, and I’ve been happy with physical satisfaction in my personal life. I wonder if it really was just a question of finding the right guy, the one who understands me, the one who shares my convictions – the one who would defend my ambitions as vigorously as he defends his own.

We’ve been blunt with each other. I know I’m pondering the impossible. But entangled with Jake, I can’t fight the sense that I’m finally home. That’s a powerful conviction and I’m not at all sure I want to fight it.

I could fall in love with this man.

Maybe I’m already falling.

Maybe that’s the dumbest choice I’ve ever made.

I’m not sure it is a choice.

I shake my head and slide out of the bed, leaving him sleeping. I know Jake Cavendish is never going to fall in love with anyone – and if he does, he’ll keep that a secret to his grave. I understand that, and yet… and yet, I can’t help thinking how awesome we could be together.

Enough. I head to the bathroom for a shower, pushing all my whimsy aside, I’m smart enough to know it’s best forgotten, that yearning for the impossible just gets your heart broken.

I can regret that reality, just a little, though, and no one ever needs to know.

11

Jake

I wake up alone, but I can hear the shower running.

Mackenzie didn’t leave, not this time.

My relief is enormous, but not because I’m worried about getting back to my car. I push a hand through my hair and head for the bathroom. The water stops while I’m on the way and I find her towelling down. “I hoped you’d wait.”

She tosses me a smile that feels official. “Early morning, though. Sorry.”

Of course. Back to work. I don’t want to think about the morning ahead of me, not yet, so I get in the shower. The water pressure is awesome and there’s still hot water. This townhouse might be my idea of heaven.

In Havelock, of all places.

“Should we talk?” I can see Mackenzie through the steam on the glass shower door, a vague tall shape engulfed in white.

Waiting. With expectations.

Talk? That’s the last thing I want to do. There is, to my thinking, nothing to say.

It was awesome.

It is done.

Talking about that can only lead us into a ‘where do we go from here’ discussion which can only be a bad, bad choice. I don’t want to taint what has been an awesome night so far.

It’s funny but Chelsea is hovering in my thoughts. Chelsea of the glorious legs, the apparently insatiable desire, the Excel spreadsheet of the weekend plan delivered to my email by 3 pm every Friday. Chelsea, who gave sex a cell of its own on the spreadsheet, while my scheduled proposal had two cells. Thirty minutes for sex but sixty for a proposal. (Who knew?) When I dared to break free of the plan – I did not propose, on time or at all – she left, forever.