The Wrong Bed

She took a deep breath. “Okay, you’re right. I haven’t been. Not for real.”

“Because you always fall for creeps.”

Another deep breath. “But, I—”

“Bad boys who excite you for about twenty minutes until they ejaculate and run.”

“Lucy…”

“Am I wrong?”

Krista wrinkled her nose. “Exaggerating maybe. But how about we get back to you?”

“I’d rather stay on this subject.”

“Of my miserable failings? No way. We’re talking about you and how it’s not happening with you guys anymore.”

“Relationships are work.” Lucy stared at Krista pointedly. “If you’d had one that lasted more than the first thrilling months, you’d know.”

Ouch. Okay, fair enough. But none of that took away from the fact that Lucy was unhappy and Krista hated seeing her that way. Working on relationships was one thing. Staying when there was nothing left to stay for was another.

She reached across the table to touch her sister’s hand. “Answer this. Deep down, don’t you really think it’s over?”

Lucy’s shoulders hunched. She dropped her eyes. “Link is a good person. I love him.”

“Avoiding the ques-tion.” Krista sang the words, but gently.

“We’re…definitely in a bad place.”

“Yes or no, Luce?”

“Kris….” She took a deep breath and blew it out. “Okay. I don’t know how we can get past what’s happening.”

“Now we’re getting some—”

“But I know we can if I can just figure it out.”

Krista resisted rolling her eyes. But okay, she’d pushed plenty hard enough. Her runaway mouth had done its thing again. Like an alcoholic or a depressed person, Lucy had to get to that place of wanting to change by herself. All Krista could do was nudge occasionally—hard enough to get Lucy thinking but not so hard Lucy panicked and cleaved unto Link like mortar unto brick. “Okay. I’m done meddling. I’m sorry. I just want you to be happy.”

“I know. I will be when we work this out.” Lucy lowered her tensed shoulders and shook her head, forcing a cheerful expression. “You, on the other hand, are hopeless.”

“Me?” Krista blinked innocently.

“Because you can’t look past a hot body.”

“Mmm, no.”

“Or a cocky attitude.”

“Ooh, you got that so right.”

“Or the huge initial adrenaline rush of lust.”

“Hit me, baby, one more time.”

Lucy laughed and Krista grinned in response, wishing the subject of Link could put that smile on her face.

“See? Hopeless!”

“But at least I’m still out there trying for what I really want. If it doesn’t show up soon, I’m happy playing for a few more years.”

“Happy? Was that not you grumbling and moaning into your noodles two months ago when Robby stopped calling?”

“Oh. Yes.” Krista heaved a wistful sigh. “Robby the Wonder Dick.”

“Mmph.” Lucy slammed down her water glass and covered her mouth to swallow carefully. “Krista.”

“Yes?”

“Someone might hear you.”

“Who’s going to hear me? And even if they did I’m sure they’d be happy for me. Getting skillfully laid is a very good thing.”

“Shhh.” Lucy glanced around, beet-red.

Krista took pity on her. “No one is listening. And you know I go into every relationship hoping I’ll get it right this time. You’re just too fun to tease.”

“Like when you told me I was adopted because my skin smelled wrong?”

“Ha! What about when you told Mom I was planning to throw red socks into a white load of wash and I wasn’t?”

“Who added Shep’s kibble to my party snack mix for Home Ec?”

“Who squirted disappearing ink on my white prom dress the second my date rang the doorbell?”

“Truce!” Lucy held up her little finger, crooked. Krista did the same. They locked pinkies and grinned.

“I just want everything to work out for you.” Krista disengaged her pinkie and squeezed Lucy’s hand.

“I know.” Lucy looked dejectedly down at her barely touched curry. “I’ll think of something.”

“Well, in the meantime, eat. You’re losing weight—and you have none to lose.” Krista picked up her fork and shoveled in some more pad thai. She, on the other hand, could still eat heartily while being carried off by a tornado.

Lucy glanced up at Krista, then back down at her plate. She pushed her food around again with intense concentration it didn’t deserve. “Um…Krista?”

Krista put down her fork. Uh-oh. This was going to be something big. “Yeah, hon?”

“I need to tell you something.”

“I’m listening.”

“There’s this guy at my office….” A blush bloomed on Lucy’s cheek.

Krista’s eyes shot wide. “Omigod! Tell me. What’s happening? He’s into you? You’re into him?”

Lucy kept her eyes down, but her cheeks were rapidly leaving pink behind in favor of red. “I guess…yeah. I’m so confused. It’s…I’m so confused.”

“Well, so what’s happening?” Krista tried to sound calm, but she wanted to give herself a huge high-five. Yes! A possible escape route from being trapped in Lincoln hell! “Has he asked you out?”

“Yes. I can’t go, of course. But he…I mean, he sort of makes me—”

“Ooooh. He does?”

Lucy jerked her head up, frowning. “You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

“Hot. Crazy. Ready to tear your clothes off at the merest glance from his endless, fathomless, fire-starting eyes.”

“Yeah.” Lucy whispered the word and a big fat tear slipped out of her eye. “That.”

Krista’s heart melted. “Oh, honey, don’t cry. This is not bad. This is…wonderful. I mean—wait. Sheesh, what am I saying? Complicated is what it is.”

“I know. I know.” Lucy pressed her napkin to the corner of her eye. “This morning he asked me if I wanted to have a drink with him after work.”

“And?”

“I said no. Of course I said no.”

“But…you wanted to say yes?”

A tearful nod.

“Oh, boy.” Krista took a deep breath, torn between sympathy and excitement that this might be the shove Lucy needed to move on to greener pastures. From there maybe onto the stage or screen where she belonged, where she’d make “stars” like Aimee into more of a parody than they made themselves.

“You know, Lucy, this might be a sign. I know I’m not in a position to give expert advice on anyone’s love life. But if a man affects you that strongly…and considering that your relationship with Link has stalled out…Well, when someone makes you that crazy, I think you need to go with it.”

“But I barely know him.”

“You gotta start somewhere.” She searched her brain for more arguments. Something had to click with Lucy. “You must be curious about him, aren’t you?”

Another nod.

“I’m not suggesting cheating, just a drink—to see how it feels.”

“But, Kris, this attraction is based on nothing. Link is real, I know him inside out. Josh is hormones and fantasy.”

“So what’s wrong with fantasy? When else are you going to get the chance to indulge one? You’re always so damn sensible.” Krista leaned forward. “You want to know my deepest, darkest, craziest fantasy?”

A piece of silverware clattered from the booth behind her.

“What?”

“Seeing someone that makes me that hot…and just going for it. Right then. Not even saying anything.” She watched her sister’s face brighten and she cheered silently. “Not worrying about a single consequence. Totally animal. Totally wild.”

“But that’s so dangerous, I mean it’s…nuts.” She breathed out a laugh, as if the idea was ludicrous, which of course it was…but exciting.

“Of course it’s nuts. That’s why it’s only a fantasy. But Luce, you can have that fantasy with this guy, only in a safer context because you already know he’s not a psycho.” She put as much earnestness into her eyes as she could, willing Lucy to drop the safe habit and fling herself out there. This was Lucy’s chance to escape.

“I couldn’t do that to Link.”

Krista clenched her teeth. “Have a drink with Josh, that’s all I’m suggesting. If something is meant to be between you, the attraction will only get stronger. If not, you’ll be able to get out with no guilt and no hard feelings.”

Lucy shook her head. “I couldn’t go behind Link’s back.”

“Then tell him.” Krista kept her frustration hidden. “You’re going to have a drink with a coworker, that’s not immoral. Link doesn’t own you.”

Lucy bit her lip, picked up her fork and pushed a shrimp around on her plate. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good.” Yes! Wow! She’d think about it! Progress. “And while you’re there, do me a favor, okay?”

“Oh, jeez, I can’t wait to hear this. What, don’t wear panties and flash him?”

“Oooh, good one.” Krista nodded approvingly. “No. Ask him if he has a brother.”

“Why?”

“’Cause I’m seriously needing some action.”

Another clatter came from the booth behind them. Its occupant leaped up. A waitress hurried over with a towel, ostensibly to mop up a spill.

Oops. Clumsy.

Krista was about to turn back to her meal when something…no, that was crazy. But yes, something…made her crane around farther for a glimpse of the man’s face at the same time his eyes made the trip to visit hers.

Eureka.

Tall, not dark but handsome, yessss, and the kind of kapow chemistry that didn’t happen very often but always, in her experience, promised something good. And did he look familiar? Maybe. Not quite. Most likely looked like someone else she knew.

Happiness.

“Water jump out of your glass?” She smiled and checked discreetly for a ring, hoping, when she found none, that her eyes were broadcasting the invitation she wanted them to be and that he’d respond. Because quite frankly all this talk of fantasy and thrills and the excitement of someone new had put her in the mood for her own adventure. Not to mention that she’d spend the next few days researching romantic holiday getaways without so much as the hint of a romance in her own life.

So how ’bout it, sailor?

Her sailor gave her a tight smile, threw a few bills on his table and walked past, then out of the restaurant, clearly destined for other, much luckier, ports than hers.

But she couldn’t shake the strange feeling that either she’d seen that man before…or that she’d see him someday again. Soon.

3

“YOU WHAT?” SETH ROSE out of his office chair, phone to his ear, trying to tell himself he hadn’t just heard what he’d heard from the lips of his stepsister. “You what?”

“I told you.” Aimee used her snippiest pouty voice, which meant she knew she’d screwed up big-time, but rather than admit it, she’d cement herself into her own version of what was right, and not even the jackhammer of logic could cut her out of it. “I sent Juice after Krista Marlow, to the hotel you said she was going to in Maine.”

“I told you that so you’d relax knowing she was out of your hair for a few days. Not so you’d send your bodyguard to beat her up.” He slumped back into his father’s chair. Giuseppe “Juice” Viegro—hired by Aimee a year ago after a creepy middle-aged man decided she’d been put on Earth to earn his love—could intimidate a sumo wrestler.

“You saw what she wrote about me. She thinks I’m some no-talent moron. Well, I’m not taking it anymore. She needs to understand what she writes about me hurts. And if Juice can intimidate her a little in the process, then I say good! She deserves it.”

“Aimee.” He used his patient-yet-threatening big-brother voice. “Does the word harassment mean anything to you?”

“Whadya think she’s doing to me?”

“It’s her job to write articles.” He closed his eyes, shutting out the portrait of his father on the dark wood wall, holding the Wellington crest as if he was lord of the manor.

“Well, it’s Juice’s job to protect me and that’s what he’s doing.”

“How is he protecting you in Maine?” Seth opened his eyes and turned his back on the portrait. His father and stepmother had raised Aimee to be this way; Seth shouldn’t have to play cleanup.

“He’s the only one I trust. He won’t hurt her, he’ll just talk to her and make her see it my way.”

“Why not pay her a nice threatening visit closer to home?”

“Juice’s family is in Maine. He volunteered when he saw how upset I was. I thought it was sweet of him.”

“Sweet of him?” He clamped his lips together so he wouldn’t say the word that came to mind instead of sweet. Juice might be enormous and terrifying, but he obviously fit just fine around Aimee’s little finger. “Call him off, Aimee. Now. If he so much as touches her, even just to scare her, we could have a lawsuit on our hands so big it would—”

“I’m not calling him off. You’ve done nothing. It’s up to me now.”

“Aimee.”

“No.” She hung up the phone, a toddler throwing a toy, a preteen stamping her foot.

Seth roared so loudly his grandmotherly and extremely efficient secretary, Sheila Bradstone, came to the door and asked him if he was all right. He blinked at her, undoubtedly bright red with fury, clutching his cell phone as if he’d like to hurl it through his corner-office window, kept frighteningly clean by the nightly janitorial crew.

“Fine.” He managed a clenched-teeth smile. “Just a tad frustrated. Anything I can do for you?”

“Now that you mention it, I’m ordering Christmas gifts for the board members and wondered if you wanted me to take care of your family gifts again this year.”

He resisted groaning. Since his mom had died and the warm traditions of his childhood died with her, holidays had become just another pain-in-the-ass obligation. “Sure, thanks. Whatever I got them is fine again. In a different color or something. Use your judgment.”

She gave him a maternal look of concern. “Aimee causing trouble again?”

“What else?”

Sheila shook her gray head and tsk-tsked sympathetically. She’d lived through the battles Seth had getting Aimee to agree to be spokesperson for Wellington in the first place. “If she’d been my daughter…”

Seth laughed, albeit grimly, at the mental picture of Sheila taking a belt to Aimee’s backside. His stepmother had no time for discipline, too busy spending Wellington money as fast as his financially conservative father let her get her hands on it. “I wish she had been your daughter. Then I wouldn’t be at risk of developing ulcers.”

“If you’ll excuse me…” Sheila hesitated, frowning slightly. Which could only mean she had some opinion she was pretty sure he wasn’t going to like.

“Yes?”

“Behavior like Aimee’s is often a cry for attention.”

“Attention?” He shook his head in disbelief. “She doesn’t get enough attention from fans and her bodyguard and the press and hangers-on and—”

“Not from her family.”

He sighed. Possible. But Seth was only a stepbrother, and he and Aimee had never been close. In addition, he had no time for nurturing a spoiled twenty-one-year-old kid. That was his father’s job and his stepmother’s—if they’d ever care to do it.

“You could be right. But if I haul out the mop and bucket every time she makes a mess, how is she going to learn to clean it up herself?”

Except this time there were others who didn’t deserve to be soiled. Like Krista, in spite of what Aimee saw as justifiable provocation. And the Wellington stores. And him.

“Also a good point.” Sheila clucked sympathetically and withdrew. One of the things he liked so much about her. She said her piece and shut up. A lot of women could learn from her example. Like Aimee. And Krista.

He briefly replayed the punch of attraction he felt when their eyes met at Thai Banquet, after he’d knocked over his water like a complete ass. But what man could hear an attractive woman admit to needing sex and remain unmoved? Smart, passionate and sexually open, with an invitation in her eyes that still haunted him—Krista had definitely made an impression, about as far from the one he’d expected as she could get.

Which was why he’d hightailed it out of the restaurant before he did something stupider than spilling his water, like stopping to chat her up. Once she found out he was Seth Wellington, the invitation would be to his own hanging.

So. He glanced at his watch. He had a meeting in half an hour with his hostile, old-fashioned board and George, the head buyer, brilliant at what he did but about as far out of the closet as they came, which meant an hour and a half of exhausting damage control and diplomacy for Seth, similar to what he’d gone through when he’d fired the company’s stodgy advertising agency and brought in a fresh, young batch of talent.

On top of that, Aimee in her infinite generosity, had handed him a situation more potentially damaging than any of Krista’s posts ever had been, one for which no immediate solution came to mind.

So. Start with the facts.

One: Giuseppi “Juice” Viegro was at this moment pursuing Ms. Krista Marlow up to the Pine Tree Inn, two states away, where Seth Wellington had been idiotic enough to mention to Aimee she was planning a visit.

Two: The only person who could call off Juice was Aimee, who apparently had no intention of doing so.

Three: Aimee’s tantrums lasted approximately two days to a week, after which time she could generally be coaxed back into her usual cheerful borderline sanity.

Four: He did not have two days to a week.

Five: The police might be able to stop Juice, but not without risking unpleasant publicity, and he had no favors to call in with any law enforcement in Maine.

Six: He was screwed.

Less than three weeks to the grand opening, featuring commercials starring Aimee’s lovely brunette head, and she was trying her hardest to cause him a premature heart attack.

Possible solution: Leave it alone, hope for the best and assume the worst wouldn’t happen.

But…there was the image of Juice’s huge build threatening Krista Marlow’s tiny body, which brought on a surprising rush of outrage and protectiveness.

No way. He glanced at his watch and eyed the threatening sky to the west. Snow predicted for the evening, the first big storm of the season, sixty percent chance, too much to risk.

But…there were those vibrant blue eyes meeting his at Thai Banquet, the shock of his own powerful attraction reflected in equal measure. And the fun he’d had today when he threw off the CEO mantle and let himself play the casual charmer, free of the mold he’d been encased in for far too long.

Ridiculous. He had too little time as it was to prepare for the upcoming meeting, let alone keep on top of running the rest of the company.

But…he had nothing scheduled after the meeting, and it being Friday, he had some leeway with his schedule this weekend.

Come on, what was he thinking? He’d get hold of Juice’s family and convince someone to let Seth have access to the gentle giant’s cell phone number.

Twenty minutes later, after having his every turn blocked, he admitted it wouldn’t be that easy. He’d done what he could.

But…Krista Marlow was alone in a hotel room in a lodge somewhere in the wilds of Maine, desperately in need of sex, harboring a fantasy of having it anonymously within minutes of meeting a stranger she was attracted to.

Someone please stop him thinking what he was thinking.

He could stay here and pretend none of it was happening, leave Aimee to clean up her own mess, as he felt she should.

Or…

He could go after Juice…and maybe Krista…himself.

“HOW ABOUT THAT DRINK?”

Lucy nearly dropped the file she was about to put away. “Oh. Josh. Hi.”

She made herself look nonchalantly into his dark eyes and told her heart to calm the hell down. New toy. Shiny toy. Not better than what she had at home, just different.

“Did you forget?”

She made herself laugh, mind racing. Forget the possibility of going out with him? Uh, no. But she couldn’t do this. Could she? Was she going to do this? Krista would say she had to.

“No, I didn’t forget.”

He sat on the edge of her desk and tipped his head, watching her. His eyes were so, so dark. “And…do you want to go?”

Yes. God, yes. With a sudden force that shocked the hell out of her, she wanted to.

“My boyfriend. Link. I don’t think he’d…” She gestured stupidly back and forth between herself and Josh.

“This isn’t about Link.”

She flashed him a warning glance and he put up both hands in surrender. He had nice hands, narrower than Link’s and with longer fingers. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m a nice guy. I’m not out to make you do anything you don’t want to. And I’m not trying to bust anything up, especially if he makes you happy.”

Her head started spinning. She took her time tucking the holiday party file back in its place in her desk drawer, wishing he hadn’t phrased it quite that way. Especially if he makes you happy. “Thank you.”

“But unless I’m wrong here, and you can feel free to tell me if I am…”

His silence made her look up again. Her stomach-flipping reaction to his obvious concern made her wish she hadn’t. “Yes?”

“You don’t strike me as happy.”

She bent her head, closed the drawer. “Things are…tough right now.”

Oh, good one, Lucy. Open the door and invite a man you’re madly attracted to right into your vulnerability and confusion. Call her the queen of earnestly blundering into stupid situations. Too much honesty was not a good thing. Especially around someone she had no real relationship with.

“I’m a good listener.” He smiled. Even his teeth were perfect. He looked like a movie star, like a rougher, more masculine version of Orlando Bloom but with that same slender, dark-curled, dreamy perfection. “And I’m good at meaningless chatter if you don’t feel like talking about anything intense.”

“Why do you want to go out with me?”

He gave a little shake of his head as if he couldn’t believe she’d ask such a question. “Because I like you. I don’t get to talk to you much at work. You’re always so serious and I have a feeling there’s a lot more to you than this. A lot more.”

Whoa. His voice had dropped to a husky, seductive murmur on the last three words. She could barely breathe from the excitement of a man so intrigued by her. This was getting very, very dangerous.

Link. She loved Link. This guy was cotton-candy fluff and Link was the salt of her earth.

“Link and I are—”

“This has nothing to do with you and Link. I’m after friendship.” He looked pained for a second, then slid off her desk and crossed to the empty couch where people sat waiting to see her boss, Alexis. “Okay, maybe that’s bullshit. Maybe I just want it to be true because it would be easier. But if friendship is all you have to offer me, I’ll take it, Lucy.”

Her name came off his tongue, traveled across the room and sounded like the best thing she’d ever heard.

“I don’t know what to say.”

He turned and met her eyes, grinned, slow and lazy and sexier than was good for her sanity. “That’s better than no.”

She cleared her throat. Link was home waiting for her. There was no way she could do this to him. “I’m afraid no is all I can say right now.”

“Right now?” He crossed the room back to her and she dropped her eyes, unable to take the hope in his.

She should say or ever. She needed to say it. She had to say it. Or she’d open up such a Pandora’s box she’d never be safe again. Never again feel the world belonged only to Link and her. If she let this man in…

God, she wanted to.

“Maybe…a drink would be okay. Sometime.”

“Not today?”

“No. I can’t. I have to—” She looked at her watch, trying to think of something besides get home to Link and cook his dinner, because that made her sound so dull and slavish. “Go. Somewhere.”

Yeah, quick thinking, Lucy. She was no good at lying. She’d be no good at cheating.

“Okay.” He smiled and touched her shoulder the way a friend might, just a gentle tap. Only it didn’t affect her the way a friend’s touch would. “I’m really looking forward to ‘sometime.’”

She watched him walk away, his smooth, graceful stride so different from Link’s powerful, lumbering step, and sank back into her chair, cheeks on fire. What had she done?