Hot in the City

A huge four-poster bed, very feminine and wickedly comfortable, dominated the room. It had been tough for him to stay awake, waiting for her to drift off.

The white cotton frills that rimmed the canopy were balanced by plain wool rugs and simple furniture that gave the room a Zen feeling. Built-in bookcases lined one wall, and there was an easel near a pair of French doors that led out to a terrace. A half-finished watercolor—amateurish, but still charming—sat on the perch. She was painting the view from her veranda, it seemed. And what might have been a bird, but it was hard to tell, exactly.

“Gabe?” Her sleepy voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts, and he switched off the flashlight quickly, leaving it on the dresser, where he’d found it as he went back to the bed.

“Did I wake you up? Sorry. I was trying to be quiet.”

“What are you doing?”

As he approached the bed, his cock twitched with interest. Incredible, after the mini-marathon they’d enjoyed. He hadn’t been this interested in a woman for some time.

“Just looking for my clothes.”

“They’re downstairs,” she said on a yawn.

“Oh right,” he feigned, knowing that, but needing to come up with some excuse in case she’d noticed him hunting around her room.

“You’re leaving?”

“I have to. I shouldn’t have stayed this late. Early morning.”

“Oh. Okay,” she said, sounding mildly disappointed, but accepting. “I’ll walk you down.”

“No need for that.”

“I want to. I’m awake anyway.”

She slid out of bed, and he could see the contours of her shape in the sliver of light peeking in through a curtain.

He hardened, and had to keep himself from touching, his mind scrambling to stem his reaction. He usually had much better control over himself than this.

Della switched on a low light and took her robe from the chair near the bookshelves. How could she look even sexier putting something on?

Her mouth was still swollen from their kissing, but her lips turned down slightly at the edges. Her hair was tumbled everywhere around her face from how he’d combed his fingers through it while pressing her down into the mattress. He looked away. Della was far too tempting.

He slid a look as she bent down to pick up something from the floor, the edge of the robe riding up to the edge of her upper thigh. He groaned, crossing to where she stood and sliding his hands over the soft roundness of her backside. He pushed the robe up, nudged his erection against her bottom and heard her catch her breath.

“Maybe I could stay a bit longer,” he said, giving in as she rose and leaned back against him.

She turned to him with a sigh. She planted her hands on his chest and shook her head.

“We can’t. No more protection.”

He was truly disappointed, but slid his arm around the small of her back and tugged her closer, not willing to give up entirely.

Burying his face in the soft skin of her neck, he licked the spot behind her ear and felt her shudder.

She was sensitive all over, loving to be touched. That made him want to do it even more.

“Gabe, we—”

“Have options,” he said with a chuckle, and kissed a path down to her breast, sucking the sweet flesh there in between his lips as his hands delved lower.

She was already hot, wet, and cried out, gripping his shoulders the minute his fingers found her.

He slipped her hand inside his boxers to stoke his erection, showing her the rhythm he liked. And then he turned all of his attention to kissing every soft spot he could find as they stroked and brought each other to another slow, incredible climax. Gabe thought his knees might actually be slightly shaky; he knew hers were as she sagged against him.

“You are one sexy lady, Della Clark,” he said on a breathless chuckle.

She sighed and buried her face in his chest, nuzzling there. He let her, enjoying that moment, but gently disentangled himself a few minutes later.

“I do have to go.”

She looked at him, sleepy and satisfied, and nodded.

“I know.”

After a quick wash in her en suite, which nearly had them all over each other again, they walked downstairs together.

Gabe couldn’t help but feel mildly regretful that he had to leave. He imagined waking up next to Della would be fun. There were so many ways he could rouse her in the morning.

He stopped short for a second. He never had thoughts like that with other women he’d slept with. Never had a problem leaving after the moment had passed. As he plucked his clothes from the floor and the coffee table where he’d thrown them earlier, he realized he didn’t really want to say goodbye. He wanted to see her again.

That didn’t happen often, either. But Della was...different. She leaned on the doorjamb between the living room and the entryway, watching him, looking sleepy, and maybe a bit sad.

Or was Gabe imagining that? Wishful thinking?

Once he was dressed, he planted his hands on his hips, took a breath, his resolve returning.

“I should get some sleep,” she said, clearly trying to avoid the awkward goodbye. “Thank you. I hope you...have a nice stay in the city.”

“Della, wait.”

He walked toward her and drew her into a hug, kissed her hair, then her cheek and her lips, before he backed away.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Her lips parted like she was going to say something, but no words came out, so he walked to the door, stepping out into the early morning darkness. The upper Manhattan streets were quiet. There wasn’t a cab in sight, so Gabe headed to the nearest subway station, refocusing on his task and leaving Della’s welcoming warmth behind.

* * *

DELLA DIDN’T HEAR the conversation going on around her, she was too busy thinking about randomness. The odds of her meeting Gabe were, in the context of the entire world, astronomical. If he hadn’t been seated next to her, would the night before have even happened? Would they have met by some other mechanism? Would she have tripped over his foot in the aisle on her way to the bathrooms, and he might have caught her? Or would they still have mixed up their bags?

No, her analytical mind rebelled. That would suggest fate or determinism. That they were “meant to be.” That was romantic nonsense, according to her mathematician’s mind. It was impossible to know how they ended up sitting next to each other, only that they did. If she had more data, such as when they had bought tickets, how many seats were gone at the time and a swath of other information, she could figure out the probabilities. Then their ending up together would seem far less magical.

But the night they’d spent together had been magic. Chemistry, not physics.

“Della? Della, what do you think? What do you have there?”

Chloe Brown, her colleague and friend, marched across the carpeted floor of the fancy dressing room to pluck a napkin from Della’s fingers that had been under her champagne glass. The ladies she had been chatting with walked back out into the main area of the store, no doubt to retrieve more dresses.

Chloe’s huge blue eyes widened as she glanced at the paper in her hand.

“Math? You’re doing math? I need opinions on this dress, and then we need to get your dress, as well. The wedding is in three weeks, you know.” Chloe sighed. “I must have been out of my mind to agree to such a rushed date, but with Justin’s job moving, we couldn’t wait.”

“I’m sorry. I know I’m supposed to be the one supporting you, but I’m just distracted today,” Della apologized.

She should be focusing more on the dress choices and helping Chloe, but all she seemed to be able to think about was what happened with Gabe last night.

Chloe looked at the napkin more closely.

“Wait a minute...what’s that graph? Who’s Gabe?”

Della had forgotten that she’d labeled her variables with G and D, and reached to snatch the slip of paper from Chloe’s hands.

“Nuh-uh. Come to think of it, you were late this morning, and you’re never late. You have shadows under your eyes, like you didn’t sleep well. And what’s that red mark behind your ear...is that a hickey?”

Della scrunched her shoulders, hiding the mark, and inwardly chastising herself for not wearing a scarf, but it was summer in New York—wearing a scarf would draw even more attention.

“What are you, a detective?” Della grumbled, sticking her tongue out, but having a tough time hiding a smile.

She, Della Clark, had girl talk to share.

How many times had she sat at lunch or out for drinks, listening to friends talk about their dates, man troubles and sex lives, when she had nothing to contribute. Now she did.

But she was finding it hard to talk about her news, surprisingly.

What would Chloe think of her? She was marrying a guy she’d been with for years, since college. And Della had taken a man she met on the plane to her apartment for a night of amazing sex.

And she wished she could do it again. Maybe that was the problem with her dating life. She was looking for Mr. Right instead of Mr. Right Now. If she wanted great sex, did she really need a relationship?

Chloe plopped down in the large, cushiony chair next to Della, the satin and lace of the dress she wore billowing all around her. Della reached out and took one edge of the lovely fabric between her fingers, marveling at how soft it was and how detailed the design of the lace.

“It almost looks like fractals,” Della murmured, studying the design.

Was she really only interested in one-time sex? It satisfied a short-term goal, for sure, but what about longer-term goals? What about a day when she might get to wear a dress like this? Have children? Grow old with someone?

What if she missed meeting the man she could spend the rest of her life with when she was pursuing simple pleasure? Not that any of her dating profile responses today looked any more promising than before on either score.

“Della, honey, tell me what happened,” Chloe said, breaking into her thoughts and taking Della’s hand with a friendly squeeze.

“I don’t know if I made a mistake. But it’s made me rethink everything,” Della said. “I’m a little confused.”

Once she started telling Chloe about Gabe, and what had happened, it all poured out much more easily than she thought it would. Chloe listened, and when Della was finally finished explaining as much as she could—without certain details, of course—she saw her friend was smiling.

“Well. Good for you, Della. It’s about time.”

Della sat back in the chair, surprised. “You don’t think I’m a...well, a slut?”

Chloe burst out laughing. “No, not at all. It sounds to me like you met a great guy and had a good time. No harm in that. I slept with Justin the first night we met, too. And had fun with quite a few men I knew before him. There’s nothing wrong with sex for fun.”

“Really?”

“Really. Who knows, a one-night stand could be your wedding-dress guy someday. Stranger things happen. People meet in all kinds of ways.”

“I just wish... I’d really like to see him again. Gabe. I feel like last night was kind of a dream, and believe me, the odds of me finding another man like him are not high.”

“Well, why don’t you see him again?”

“Our meeting was totally random and totally random things are not repeatable,” Della said, and then saw that look on her friend’s face.

“This has nothing to do with math, Della. What’s really going on?”

“He made it clear it was just a one-night thing. He’s only here for a short time, works with the government, something with Homeland Security. When he left, he didn’t say he wanted to see me again. Or what if I did, and it wasn’t as good? Maybe last night was just a fluke.”

Chloe paused, sitting back in her chair. “There’s only one way to find out. You contacted him once about your bags, just contact him again. You don’t have to wait for him to ask, Della. You can ask for what you want, and you should.”

Della frowned. “I don’t know, I feel weird calling him again. Especially for, um, you know for—”

“For sex. Believe me, he won’t mind,” Chloe said with a chuckle. “The worst that can happen is that he says no, or doesn’t pick up the call. Then you have your answer.”

Della shook her head. “And if he says yes, what if I miss my chance at someone else really great?”

“By the looks of the responses you have on your dating profile, I don’t think you have to worry about that anytime soon. If you want to see this guy again, you need to go for it.”

Della was tempted, but not convinced. She’d worked with men her entire life, and she was used to being the only woman in the room many times when it came to lectures or think tanks, but this was different. She would feel so foolish if he said no, and that would put a pall on the entire experience. Wouldn’t it be better just to enjoy the memory?

No, she was just making excuses.

“Think of it this way. It’s practice, right? You haven’t had a lot of chances to be with men who really know what they’re doing, and now you met one. Enjoy it, work off some steam and get some mad skills in bed for when you do meet Mr. Forever.”

Della brightened slightly. “That’s true.”

“And if he’s working for DHS, he has to be pretty trustworthy, right? What kind of work does he do for them? Is there some kind of problem in the city? Some new threat?”

Chloe looked slightly worried suddenly.

“Oh no, nothing like that,” Della reassured. “I’m sure he wouldn’t be hooking up with me if it was anything that serious. But we didn’t really talk about work that much.”

“If you must calculate odds, the best bet is that if you meet him again, you’ll have a great time. A guy that good in bed doesn’t lose his skills overnight, so take advantage while you can. Anything else, you can’t know for sure, no matter how many algorithms you apply.”

Della realized Chloe was right. It was her downfall that she often made things more complicated rather than simplifying them. Divide, instead of multiply. Just call Gabe and see what happened, and no matter what happened, she would have made a decision. It was better than drowning in what-ifs.

“You’re right. I feel so much better. I’ll call him after we’re done here,” she said, excitement making her bounce in her seat.

“Great! Maybe we could even do a double date, or if he’s here for a while, he could be your wedding date, perhaps?”

“Let’s see if he even talks to me. I don’t want to count on anything.”

Chloe smiled. “Now you’re learning. Just enjoy the moment. But still, if there’s a chance, I’d love to meet him. He sounds like quite a guy.”

Della smiled in return. “That would be nice. Thanks, Chloe.”

“You’re welcome. Now, what do you think of this dress? It’s the one I keep coming back to, but the cost is through the roof.”

Chloe stood, and Della, having made her decision to call Gabe and take control of her destiny—or at least of her sex life—was able to focus on the task at hand. She followed her friend to the mirror, studying how lovely Chloe looked in the gown. The special moment settled in, and tears burned at the back of her eyes, but she blinked them away.

“I love it. It’s perfect. You only get married once, Chloe, and you should have the dress you dream about.”

Chloe looked like she was blinking away tears as well, and nodded.

“You have a romantic streak, Della. And it’s so good to have you here. I know we’ve known each other for less than a year, and this wedding was sort of a rush, but you’ve been such a good friend. And with none of my own family around, you’ve really become more like a sister.”

Now Della did get teary, as she had no siblings, either. To think that Chloe felt that way about her was very moving.

“Thank you. I feel exactly the same. I’m so honored that you asked me to be your maid of honor, even though you know I have no clue what I’m doing.”

They laughed, and Chloe grinned. “How are the dance lessons coming along?”

Della made a face. “I suck.”

Chloe laughed again. “You’re being too hard on yourself. You haven’t had much time to learn. And you need a good partner. Maybe Gabe can help you out,” she added with a hint of mischief.

Della bit her lip, wondering. She hadn’t considered that, or that perhaps Gabe would be her date to some wedding events, if he was around. Justin’s best man was married, so Della had resigned herself to going solo, but maybe...?

Don’t go there, she reminded herself. That way lay disappointment. Just enjoy whatever happens, if anything does happen.

“So, now that we know what I’m wearing to this event, we need to try on your selections.”

“Selections? I haven’t made any selections yet.”

“I did,” Chloe said mischievously.

Della rolled her eyes, but submitted as Chloe signaled to the saleslady to bring in some of the dresses she had set aside for Della.

Chloe was always chiding her about her bland style, wearing mostly black and grey, wool and cotton, and relatively modest clothes. The skirt and tank top she’d worn out with Gabe the night before had been obtained on a shopping trip with Chloe, who had given in on the black tank top, but convinced her to buy the form-fitting denim skirt.

Gabe had clearly approved, and so Della decided maybe Chloe had a point.

The saleslady brought in three dresses, and all of them made Della gasp.

“Gorgeous, aren’t they?” Chloe cooed. “C’mon, try them on.”

Della was led away by the saleswoman, along with the gowns. The assortment ranged among shades of rose, which was Chloe’s choice, of course, and all three were as daring as they were...sensual.

The first one was a Grecian, off-the-shoulder style of sheer, draped material that caught at the waist with a silver pin. It moved around her in the most wonderful froth of fabric Della had ever imagined. When she walked, it was if she were floating.

“Oh, that one is superb. It would drive any man crazy,” Chloe said approvingly.

“It’s very comfortable, too. I like it.”

“Try the next, anyway. We need to see all of them.”

Grudgingly, she did so. The second one had a neckline so deep Della was pretty sure she could probably step out of the dress through the front. Chloe liked it, but commented that Della would probably have to tape her breasts in place, so as not to have a fashion faux pas. Della nixed that dress immediately.

The third was more modestly cut, but fit like a glove, and because of that, was even more revealing than the others.

“I like it,” Della said, studying her image in the mirror with Chloe. She looked so sleek, and the dress seemed to compress all of her curves into a very nice shape. “But it doesn’t feel as nice as the first one, and it would be difficult to dance in this one. I really like the Grecian style, and I would rather move comfortably.”

“Agreed. And the first is a very romantic dress, while still being sexy. It also looked the best with your hair color and figure. I was worried that rose color, with your strawberry, would be a clash, but that shade works. I think because it’s muted, and the off-the-shoulder style takes the color away from your neckline, so it shows off that amazing skin of yours, rather than clashing with your hair.”

Della smirked. “You really think a lot about these kinds of things. Good thing one of us does.”

Chloe chuckled. “You have basically good instincts. You just need to be a bit more daring.”

“So this is decided?”

“Yes. Do you want to go get a coffee to celebrate?”

“I can’t,” Della said, looking at her watch. “I wanted to drop some paperwork off downtown, and I have an appointment after that.”

“And you have to call lover boy.”

Della felt her cheeks warm. “Yes, and that.”

“Speaking of that, maybe you should buy some sexy extras while you’re here. They have some beautiful things out front.”

“Oh, I don’t know—”

“Don’t second-guess, Della. You’re having a fling with a sexy stranger. Make the most of it.”

Della took a deep breath and agreed with a nod. Returning to the dressing room, she took the dress off, and then waited for the store’s seamstress to take her measurements so that it could be altered appropriately.

Then, she and Chloe bought several more pieces of lingerie than Della thought she would ever need, but they were fun to pick out. She wondered if Gabe would be surprised. Last night, all she had been wearing were her usual, plain cotton bikinis and he hadn’t seemed to mind at all.

Leaving the shop, she and Chloe parted ways, and Della’s attention turned to the evening ahead. She was too distracted to think about work, and it wasn’t anything that couldn’t wait.

Chloe was right—she had to go for it with Gabe. She had everything to gain, and very little to lose. But she balked at calling him and suggesting he come to her house. Should they meet somewhere else?

If she asked him out for a drink, and then things happened more naturally, she was far more comfortable with that.

But that was also boring.

Della was tired of being boring. Gabe was a federal agent, and a man who had experienced a lot more of life than she had. What made her think he would want to see her again? She wanted to stand out in his memory like he did in hers. To make herself desirable, more mysterious.

Maybe if she did something more creative than just calling him—she could make it a game of sorts.

Excitement tingled underneath her skin as an idea formed, and before she could talk herself out of it, she took out her phone and opened the GPS application. Some quick calculations, and she’d sent off a message to Gabe that hopefully would be much more intriguing than a phone call would have been.

Putting her phone away, she hurried down the sidewalk, smiling. She had more plans to make.

4

GABE FINISHED HIS second drink, looking at the door of the Wall Street bar where he’d agreed to meet Della. Well, he assumed that was what this was about. All he’d received from her was a message that included GPS coordinates that led to this location. At first he’d been suspicious—what if it wasn’t her? Or why wouldn’t she just call him directly?

Gabe became increasingly antsy and curious the longer he sat, waiting.

What was Della up to?

He wasn’t sure he should be here, or if he should have made any plans to see her again at all. He’d combed through her locked files and found nothing of too much interest. Her work on the vaccine project had been mostly related to risk analysis, very compartmentalized and early in the project. There were no other red flags in her life. Her emails and academic work were all straightforward. He was running background checks on her friends, colleagues, just in case, but there’d been nothing overtly alarming.

He shouldn’t have come here, but the strange message had intrigued him. If it wasn’t from Della, then he needed to know what was going on.

Right.

The truth was that he liked her, and he wanted to see her again, in spite of the situation.

You lied to her, so what? It’s the job. Lives depend on what you do. His mind replayed all the usual things he told himself so he could sleep at night. It wasn’t that they weren’t true, but they were getting harder and harder to believe.

Like today, which he’d spent interrogating a twenty-five-year-old junior scientist about the details of her private life until she was in tears. Tears never really bothered him; Gabe knew they could be a ploy. There had been enough cracks in the young employee’s interview to push her harder, and questions about her background, as well. Natalie Petroski could be the leak. He’d asked for surveillance to be installed in her home before she returned there.

Until they were satisfied that she was clean, he would review audio and video of everything she did, every aspect of her personal life, and with whom she did it. Especially with whom. They’d have to get some mobile surveillance on her as well, know where she went and who she saw.