***
Kicking back the covers, I got out of bed. It was after twelve—a respectable time to get up on one of my very few days off. I had a big day planned involving me, the sofa, and a handful of old movies. The freezer was well stocked with Ben & Jerry’s, in case of an emergency.
As I poured the filtered coffee that had been brewing since my housekeeper, Noni, had left, into a cup, the doorbell rang. I tightened my blue silk robe around my waist and walked across the tiled floor to the door. Peering through the peephole, I jumped in shock.
“You,” I said, opening the door, my eyes widening as I took in the familiar, sexy man leaning against my doorframe. His dark hair looked windblown, and those deliciously rich brown eyes leveled against my own, almost brooding.
A blush crept to my cheeks as I remembered the other night, and then the fact that under my robe I was completely bare-ass naked. But it wasn’t embarrassment I was feeling; it was excitement. I was happy he was on my doorstep. I’d been sure I’d never see him again after the other night.
“Hello. Sorry to drop by unannounced, but I wanted to check that you were oka
y, and I didn’t have your number . . .” His voice trailed off apologetically, his gaze wandering over my bare legs and my short robe.
“Do you want a coffee?” I asked, standing aside.
“Only if I’m not interrupting anything.”
I blushed again, wondering what the hell he thought he would be interrupting.
“It’s my one day off. I’m spending it watching movies and eating ice cream,” I confessed.
“Then I’ll take you up on that coffee.” He walked inside, and I shut the door behind him. My eyes traveled down to his ass. God, he looked good. Dressed in a pressed white shirt and black slacks, he was positively hot.
His dark hair fell onto his forehead, and looked out of control in comparison to the rest of him. Stubble lined his jaw, and I had to resist the urge to touch it. There was nothing hotter than stubble, especially on an older guy. Coop had it, and I used to pick on him for it, but secretly it drove me insane.
Ah, Coop. I still struggled to go an hour without thinking about him. Even with this insanely attractive man standing in front of me, my mind always went back to him.
Why? Because it was easier to tell myself that I was over him than to actually believe it.
I led the man into the kitchen, and poured him a coffee. He took it, glancing around the room, his eyes glistening with approval.
“Nice place,” he commented.
I loved my home. Way too big for just one person, my home felt like the only place I could really be me. Everyone saw me as they wanted to: party girl, homewrecker . . . slut. I was none of those things. I acted like I didn’t care what people thought about me, but I did. I was human, and I had feelings. Words hurt me just like they did everyone else.
After the incident with Coop, and it coming out that I’d used his services, my reputation had gotten worse—if that were even possible. Nobody cared about the truth, or me. All they cared about was getting a good story or a compromising photo. The reality was, I cried myself to sleep most nights. I hadn’t spoken to my family in years, and I had no friends. Yeah, sure, I was living the life.
At least here I could be me. I could lie around on my black suede sofa that backed up against the window overlooking the city. I’d lost count of the number of times I’d curled up in the darkness, taking in the city.
“Thanks,” I replied. I felt awkward. The other night, kissing him. Why was he here?
We stood in the kitchen, me leaning against the kitchen counter, and him . . . well, he was staring at me, a little smile on his lips. It was the kind of look that made me feel flustered, like he knew something about me. And considering how little I remembered of the other night, it was entirely possible.
“So, let me guess, you were just in the area?” I smirked, taking a sip of my coffee.
“Actually, I was nowhere near the area. I just wanted to see you again.” Well, he got points for honesty. The sight of me fucking a girl had obviously left an impression on him.
I was beginning to realize what this was: he wanted more of the party girl. He was here to see the Beth who stayed out all night drinking, and kissing random girls and making out with handsome men.
Not me. Well, not the real me, anyway.
I slipped a finger through the tie of my robe, letting it fall open. I arched my shoulders, letting the material float down my shoulders. Goosebumps hit my arms as I stood there confidently. Inside, I was a screaming mess.
What the hell am I doing? What if he touched me? What if I freaked out?
Sure, I’d had plenty of sex since the rape, but none sober. I hadn’t let anyone touch me without being completely smashed first.
He stared at me for a moment, his eyes wandering over my curves as time seemed to freeze. I couldn’t read his expression, but the longer he stood there, watching me, the more I began to panic. Without saying a thing, he bent down and retrieved the robe, threading my arms back into it.