In The Boss's Bed. J. Critch Margot
over her shoulders, and a little black dress highlighted legs that seemed to go on forever. She was looking straight at him, making a beeline for where he was standing at the bar. He sighed quietly. She obviously knew who he was. She wanted to cozy up to the single, rich owner of Swerve. Even though he was a fan of her beauty, he was exhausted and he didn’t have time for the attention of groupies tonight, no matter how gorgeous.
When she was close enough to him, he extended his hand to her and put on his most cordial smile. “Hi, can I help—”
His words were stopped in his throat when her arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him forward until his lips found hers. His eyes widened as she kissed him. But they soon closed when he felt her tongue stroke his bottom lip. He stifled a moan and opened his mouth, to let himself be taken over by the feeling of this mysterious women in his arms.
Jamie couldn’t remember ever being kissed so fiercely by a woman. Everything else seemed to disappear. There was no music, no flashing lights, no crowd of thirsty patrons lined up at the bar, no Trevor, who was surely staring at them, agog.
It was when his hands found her hips, the spell broke and the sounds and lights of the club and all of the people around them came rushing back. She broke away from him. Still standing just inches apart, he saw the flush that stained her face and felt her breath on his chin. He got a good look at her and the thing that stood out most was the frightened, guilty look in those amazingly dark, almond-shaped eyes. She was a second from hightailing it away from him, out of his life, and he knew it. He wanted to ask her name, maybe buy her a drink, anything to make her stay.
After a beat, she shook out of her trance, mumbled an “I’m so sorry,” and did exactly what he thought she would. She turned on her heel and walked away, almost running, disappearing in the crowd of bodies on the dance floor.
Jamie was rendered speechless for a moment, before he turned to Trevor, bewildered and out of breath. “Do you know who she was?”
Trevor laughed heartily. “I have no idea. You didn’t know her? It definitely seemed as if you two were familiar. Wait a minute!” Trevor snapped his fingers in a moment of inspiration and turned to the computer behind the bar and consulted the names of the customers who had started drink tabs. “Maya Connor is her name. She’s here with a friend, she’s drinking vodka-cran and the friend is a light-beer girl.”
Jamie ran a hand through his dark hair and checked his watch. “I’ve got to head back upstairs.” He turned to go, but stopped and faced Trevor again. “Take care of their tab, will you? Make sure they get whatever they want.”
“Will do, boss,” Trevor replied with a smirk.
* * *
WHEN MAYA RETURNED to Abby, it seemed that her friend had made a friend of her own. Maya watched Abby as she talked to a gentleman who had taken up residence at their booth. Maya scooted in on the far side and looked at the stranger.
“Beat it, bud.” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder and scowled. When he left with a confused shrug, she buried her face in her hands. “Oh, my God! I can’t believe I kissed him!” Realizing that her own glass was empty, she reached across the table and snatched Abby’s beer bottle from her hands.
“Hey!” Abby yelled, attempting to take back her drink. Maya assumed that she was more upset about her stolen drink than she was about the newly vacated seat next to her.
“I can’t believe you dared me to do that.” Maya looked back at the bar and saw that the man she had kissed was gone, but the bartender was still there. She was suddenly parched, and she certainly couldn’t go back up there. She didn’t think she could even face him again. How was she supposed to get another drink? Or even pay her tab when they were ready to leave? She’d thought of none of those things when she had made the stupidest, most impulsive decision of her life in kissing the stranger at the bar. “Oh, God, I need another drink.”
“So get your own drink.” Abby snatched back her bottle. “I cannot believe you actually kissed him! I’m superimpressed.”
Maya measured the distance between herself and the bar and caught the eye of the bartender, who was watching her with curiosity. “I can’t go back up there. He was talking to the bartender like they were friends or something. I just can’t do it.”
Abby pushed herself up from the table. “Fine, I’ll get you something. Vodka? Or do you want something a little crazier in celebration of your turn as a woman who kisses strange men in a bar?”
Maya brought her forehead to the table. “Vodka’s fine,” she muttered.
With Abby gone, Maya had a chance to think about what she had done. What if the man wasn’t single? She hadn’t seen a wedding ring, but that didn’t mean anything. He could have taken it off—which would make him the scummiest guy in the world—or maybe he had a girlfriend. Does that make me a home wrecker? Not if I haven’t actually wrecked his home. And she wasn’t going to do that. She had no intention of actually seeing him again.
And, holy shit, she had basically assaulted him! Maya began to panic as the thought overtook her. If a man had walked up to her and just kissed her, forcing his tongue in her own mouth, she would be outraged! He would definitely be rinsing her pepper spray from his eyes and icing his groin all night. How dare you, Maya? If she ever saw him again, she would definitely have to apologize, grovel even. She felt awful. This would be the absolute last time she “lived a little.” She didn’t understand how Abby could do whatever she wanted without worrying about the consequences of her actions. But it certainly wasn’t how Maya chose to live her life. Not by a long shot.
She was almost shaking with panic when Abby came back to the table with their drinks and pushed the pink one toward her. “The cute bartender Trevor poured you a double. He figured you needed it.”
“Oh, my,” she sighed. She took a drink and grimaced at the taste of the extra alcohol. She drank again, and this time the beverage slid down her throat more easily. She wasn’t a big drinker, but with the strength of the drink, plus the two or three she’d had earlier, she started to feel her uneasiness and panic slip away. A warm sensation rose from her belly and she felt herself relax a little.
“So,” Abby said, taking a sip of her beer. “Tell me about the kiss.”
The kiss. Maya could still feel his lips on hers, and the coarse stubble of the five o’clock shadow that covered that strong, broad jaw grazing roughly against the soft skin of her face. She could smell his cologne, a blend of citrus, sandalwood, innate maleness. And she heard his groan, which had vibrated through her when his lips parted and his tongue found hers. Maya recalled the sense of loss she had felt when she’d pulled away. Kissing him was wrong, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to feel the dark, handsome stranger all over her body.
And Abby wanted her to tell her about the kiss? How could she put it into words? Were there any words to describe the feeling of being pressed against him? She struggled to find them, to come up with anything that would even come close to relating the experience to another person.
“It was good,” she said simply, knowing that good didn’t even come remotely close to describing the kiss.
“‘It was good,’” Abby repeated, clearly unconvinced. “Just ‘good’?”
“It was really, very good,” she said with a shrug.
Abby laughed. “The way you looked when you came back to this table told me that it was more than just ‘really, very good.’”
Maya flushed, suddenly warm. From the temperature of the club? The alcohol? Her reaction to the man? “What does it matter?” Maya finished her drink in one long swallow, dismissing it. “He’s a great kisser. But in this city? It’s not like I’m going to see him again.”
Abby smirked, pursing her cherry-red lips. “Montreal might be the second largest city in the country, but I think it’s smaller than you think. You just might encounter him again.”
Maya leaned back in the booth, the back of her