Dear Heart, I Hate You

The entire hotel lobby could empty out for all I cared; I wasn’t leaving Cal’s side. No matter how tired I might have been from the day’s seminars and team-building activities, I refused to be the one who walked away from whatever was simmering between the two of us. If we came apart instead of falling together, it would be his doing, not mine.

“Don’t go yet.”

I turned toward Cal’s whisper as relief filled me, willing him to want the same thing I did. With our faces mere inches apart, I fought the pull I felt as my attention kept drifting between his hazel eyes and those damn lips.

“Didn’t plan on it,” I said softly.

Our bodies leaned closer, inexplicably drawn together, and I almost laughed at how we must have looked to everyone else. Like a couple. Definitely not like two people who had just met.

As his hand squeezed m

y thigh again and he smiled, my brain turned to mush. All I could think about was Cal and how much more I wanted of him.

So much more.

Breaking Rules

Cal

I was currently sitting at a table with my hand on Jules’s thigh, breaking my number-one rule: No women.

Work was too damn important to me, and women were a distraction. Even the best ones seemed to turn into something else once we started dating, taking on personality traits that hadn’t been there when we first met. They were good at hiding the parts of them they didn’t want you to see until just the right time. And while I understood that most women needed things from a relationship that were seemingly normal, like my time and attention, I couldn’t give it to them.

That was what led me to formulate my life plan in the first place—too many clingy, needy women, and my realization that I wasn’t ready for any of that yet. My plan was solid and ladies didn’t factor into it; at least, not for another three or so years. Yes, I even had a timeline.

Women had their own timelines. They wanted to be married by a certain age, have two point five kids and a house by another. The only problem was my timeline and theirs tended to be off by several years. I needed two more years to make partner within my firm, another six months or so to get settled into the role, and then—and only then—could women possibly come back into the equation, depending on what else I was involved in by that point.

To fill what little spare time I had after spending long hours at the office, I took on some volunteer projects. At first it was to impress my bosses and show them that I was well rounded, dependable, and thought outside the box when it came to positive publicity for the firm. But I soon realized that I really enjoyed the mentoring and coaching, and it had become less about impressing anyone else and more about making a difference where I could. I found a deep sense of satisfaction in my volunteer work that my job couldn’t fill.

Coldly categorizing my life into a series of boxes I wanted to check off wasn’t a romantic notion, but my career had nothing to do with romance and everything to do with reality. I wanted to be firmly rooted in it before allowing myself to be distracted by a relationship.

But right now, with my hand touching Jules’s thigh, my brain wasn’t the least bit involved, and I wasn’t sure what was real at this point. She was real. Her long blond hair and fierce green eyes, those were real.

I wasn’t lying when I’d told Jules that most women didn’t have it together. It wasn’t meant to be a slap at her gender; it was the truth from my experience. But Jules was motivated and determined the same way I was, and damn it if I didn’t find everything about that sexy as hell. Not to mention the fact that when Jules spoke, she reminded me of myself; she had ambition in spades and the gusto to make her dreams a reality. I could relate to her on every level, and I couldn’t even remember the last time that had happened.

Jules was funny too, always smiling when she spoke, her eyes closing with genuine amusement each time she laughed at something someone said.

And beautiful—God, she was so beautiful. She looked like she’d walked straight from the sands of some warm beach, wearing a sleeveless shirt and strappy sandals in the chilly Boston air. Jules was a vision, and I had a hard time keeping my hands off of her. Granted, I wasn’t trying very hard, but I found myself not wanting to. What I did want was to get her alone and familiarize myself with every square inch of her body.

That was something I hadn’t done in a very long time. My right hand and I had become the best of friends, and I’d convinced myself it was easier that way. My hand didn’t talk back, didn’t demand that I take it to dinner or buy it expensive gifts. I’d put sex on the back burner for my career, and before this moment, I’d been fine with that decision. It had always made the most sense.

But now, staring at Jules’s honey-colored hair, something nagged at me, telling me that if I let her go, I’d regret it. And I hated regrets even more than I hated nagging.

What was it about this woman that had me so twisted up already? It made no sense at all. The logical parts of me wanted to fight this nonsense and not give in to it, but my body betrayed me at every turn. My hands had a will of their own, acting without permission as they touched her at every opportunity.

It was official; I couldn’t keep my hands off of her. She was like a siren, drawing me in so she could have her way with me. And I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to let her.

He Changed Everything

Jules

Cal’s hand warmed my leg, spreading heat wherever it landed. It was all I could focus on, that sizzling touch of his. His fingers splayed out across my leg, inching closer to my most private area.

As much as Cal turned me on, I refused to go that far in public, groping beneath a table like we were in middle school. So I placed my hand on top of his and gave it a light squeeze, stopping any further movement. I’d intended to pull my hand away, but he laced his fingers with mine and held them there.

“What are you drinking?” I looked into his glass, wondering if he was drinking straight liquor.

“Bourbon.”