Perfect Fling (Serendipity's Finest 2)

One

Erin Marsden had always been Serendipity’s good girl. As assistant district attorney in the small upstate New York town, only daughter of the ex–police chief, youngest sibling of two overprotective brothers (both cops, one of whom was the current police chief), Erin always lived up to expectations. She’d never made a misstep, more afraid of disappointing her family than of stepping out of the stereotypical role she’d always, always fulfilled.

Until last night.

She blinked and took stock of her surroundings: a strange bed, walls she didn’t recognize, and a warm, nude male body beside her very naked one.

Cole Sanders.

She stared at his too-long mess of dark hair and the muscles in his upper back and thought about the way her body ached in all the right places, and she shivered. No doubt about it, when she finally stepped out of the mold she’d created, she’d not only done a one-eighty but made the most un-good-girl move she could think of. A one-night stand.

A one-night stand.

The thought made her giddy and also slightly nauseous as she silently traced the path that had led her here. She’d started yesterday at her brother Mike’s wedding to one of Erin’s closest friends, Cara Hartley, now Marsden. Erin had been surrounded by friends, family, and happy, loving couples everywhere she looked, making her the odd woman out. Not wanting to go home alone just yet, she’d stopped by Joe’s Bar. Misstep number one.

She’d let Cole Sanders, the man for whom she’d had an unrequited crush as a young teenage girl, interrupt her dance with an old friend. Misstep number two.

He’d pulled her close against his hard body. She’d looked into his dark, almost navy eyes and seen a world-weariness that tore at her heart, then acknowledged the sexual tension they’d both ignored since his return. Misstep number three.

And then she’d gone for the gold, agreeing to join him upstairs in his room over the bar for an all-night session of marathon sex. But she couldn’t label that misstep number four, because sex with Cole had been phenomenal. She didn’t know two people could generate such heat. It had been that fantastic. In fact, Erin thought, she’d stretch and purr in contentment right now if she weren’t afraid of waking the man snoring lightly beside her.

Although their parents were good friends, Erin didn’t know Cole well. Nobody did, not anymore. Not even her brother Mike, who had been one of his closest pals, though Mike seem

ed concerned since Cole’s return. Cole’s father had been her dad’s deputy chief of police until last year when Jed retired, but Jed Sanders never spoke of his son.

According to Mike, Cole had dropped out of the police academy mere days before his graduation. What Cole did after that was anybody’s guess, but rumors ran crazy in their small town. Some said Cole had gotten involved in organized crime in Manhattan, others claimed he ran drug and prostitution rings. Having grown up around Cole, even if she had kept her distance from the rough-and-tumble bad boy he’d been, Erin couldn’t bring herself to believe he’d gone so wrong.

Call her naive, but she’d always seen something deeper in Cole, something good, even when he’d clashed with his tough-as-nails father. Which didn’t mean she wouldn’t make her escape as cleanly as possible.

What Erin didn’t know about awkward morning-afters could fill a book. The quiet, tepid affairs in her past always ended the same way, with a polite It’s not you, it’s me before she walked away. She’d never had to slip out of a man’s bed undetected before.

She snuck one last glance at his broad shoulders, rising and falling with every breath he took. His arm muscles, sculpted from hard work and marked by ink, caused her to shiver anew.

Breathe, she silently ordered herself.

Think, she commanded next. Her clothes were scattered around the bedroom, if she called her bridesmaid’s dress clothing to sneak out in. With a last look at the man who’d made the earth move for her last night, Erin eased out from beneath the warm comforter and rose, searching for her dress. She bent over, stark naked, mortified that her butt was in the air as she grabbed for her clothes.

“I didn’t peg you as the type to sneak out,” Cole said in a lazy, masculine drawl.

She snagged her dress from the floor and turned to face him, hugging the light lavender fabric against herself for protection, suddenly feeling every bit the good girl she’d been a mere twenty-four hours ago.

“I’ve already seen every inch,” he reminded her, his heavy-lidded gaze never leaving hers.

She flushed. “What type did you peg me for?” she asked, ignoring the humiliating part of his comment.

He eased up against the headboard, sexy, tousled, and too handsome. One look had her wanting to crawl back into bed with him. That wasn’t happening for a number of reasons, the first being that a one-night stand had a shelf life, and she’d used up hers. Second, to her extreme disappointment, he wasn’t asking. And third, bad-girl Erin was an aberration. This morning, with no champagne in her system, respectable Erin had returned, more’s the pity.

He stretched his hands behind his head and leaned back, studying her. The sheet slipped below his navel and it took all her strength not to stare at his flat abdomen and the tented sheet.

“You were pretty gutsy last night, so I wouldn’t have figured you’d take the coward’s way out.” He cocked an eyebrow, his expression serious.

Did the man never smile? “And I wouldn’t have thought you were the type who’d want a woman to stick around . . . after.”

Which made her wonder why he hadn’t let her check out unnoticed, even if he had been awake. It would have spared them both the awkwardness of . . . this. Then again, they’d have to play this conversation out sometime. Might as well get it over with, she thought.

Then his words came back to her. “I was gutsy?” She straightened her shoulders a bit at that.

Erin was tough with her brothers and at work, where she had to be in order to keep up with her boss and hold her own against defense attorneys and their clients. But gutsy with men? That was a first, and she kind of liked hearing it.

“I left the bar with you. That took nerve,” she said, almost pleased with herself.

He eyed her without cracking a grin, but she’d swear she saw a hint of amusement in his eyes. Before he banked it, that is.

“I meant you were gutsy in bed.”

His words, along with the deep rumble of approval in his tone, warmed her inside and out, and the heat of a blush rose to her cheeks.