

MOSTLY

MARRIED

By

Trish Wylie

COPYRIGHT

Mostly Married Copyright © 2017 by Trish Wylie

Line edited by Ali Williams

Cover image purchased via Shutterstock

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system without written permission from the author. Distribution of this book via the internet or any other means without permission is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized editions, and do not participate in or encourage piracy.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Only Oscar Excerpt

Books by Trish Wylie

About The Author

Acknowledgement

CHAPTER ONE

His gaze scanned the dimly lit room. It tracked back and locked on target.

There.

And she was sensational.

Dressed in a curve-hugging crimson dress, cut low at the neckline and high at the hem, the woman perched on a tall stool at the bar drew numerous looks of interest from the faces bobbing above a sea of monochrome business suits. Her hair was a long, lustrous curtain of inky black waves, her skin a flawless, dusky tan and her body, well, suffice to say there was a reason most of those looks came from men.

A smile hooked the corner of Aaron Rudeski's mouth as she blew one of them off. She probably told the guy to go to hell in a way which made him look forward to the trip. But it would take a whole heap more than some itty-bitty words to stop a Texan cowboy from staking a claim.

Occupying the newly vacated space beside her, he ordered a double shot of Bourbon from the barman. The scent of her sultry perfume wrapped around him like an embrace as he took his first sip of the rich, amber liquid, adding fuel to the fire already burning in his veins.

Downing the remainder of the contents with a sharp jerk of his chin, he reached inside his jacket, paid for the drink with a generous tip and slid a key card across the bar to the woman before he turned and walked away.

She caught up to him at the gilded elevator as the doors slid open, stood silently by his side as they travelled to the thirty-sixth floor. Every molecule of air in the small space vibrated with sexual tension and by the time they exited the cubicle and walked down the hall to the allocated door, Aaron's muscles were tightly coiled.

He curled his fingers into his palms, willing himself to hold it together for just a few minutes more. Time slowed as she slipped the card he gave her into the slot, the light turned green and the lock clicked, each small move stretching his self-control to breaking point.

Ignoring the room's elegant décor, they occupied positions a few feet apart at the end of the bed, his gaze fixed on her as he shed his jacket, tossed it on a chair and reached up to tug on the knot in his tie.

Watching her strip was a tutorial in sensuality, her movements deliberately languorous and provocative. When the material of her dress pooled around her ankles, his gaze flicked over her full breasts, the curve of her belly and the tiny triangle of lace between endlessly long legs. As he returned to her face, where the dark pools of her eyes glinted with feminine knowledge of the effect she had on him, a sudden sense of urgency overcame him.

Time sped up.

Racing to shed the remainder of his clothing and roll on a condom while she stepped out of her panties, Aaron stepped forwards and reached out his arm. He twisted her hair around his fingers and held her head in place while his lips covered hers in a bruising kiss. In return, her fingernails grazed his spine, urged him closer and as they tumbled onto the mattress, her legs parted, creating a cradle for his body. Without any preliminaries, he sank his cock into her tight, wet heat.

There were no endearments uttered, no encouragement was offered and instructions weren't needed.

It was just sex, hard and fast.

With her knees bent and her legs wrapped around his hips, her spine arched as she met each of his thrusts with a silent demand for more. In a handful of minutes his breathing was labored, skin slick with sweat, heartbeat thunderous. He lifted his upper body to increase the angle, glanced down to where they were joined and felt the first ripple of her orgasm drawing him deeper inside. When she came, she did so loudly, dragging him over the edge, intense pleasure zipping across his nerve endings and curling his toes.

With all the day's tension dissolved into the ether, he rolled over onto his back and felt her curve into his side while his heart rate slowed and his breathing evened out.

"Told you words weren't needed," she murmured with a smile.

Aaron took great pride in the fact he was responsible for that smile, even if there was an edge of smugness to it he could have done without. That was the thing with Talia, when she was right about something, she never let anyone forget it.

"Mmmm-hmmm," he allowed in a rough hum, lazily tracing circles on her back with the tips of his fingers.

"And stranger in a bar obviously did it for you... Beat that one." She challenged him with a whispered, "I dare you."

Aaron sighed heavily. No hope of taking five minutes to bask in the afterglow with her, was there?

Not that he was likely to raise the subject again.

The first time he did, she accused him of being more of a girl than she was, which considering the number of times he thought about buying her a gift or booking a candlelit dinner for two, was probably a fair point. He couldn't help if, deep down, he was an old-fashioned romantic.

Though, in his defense, could argue his upbringing hadn't helped.

His momma raised her little boy to be respectful to women. She made him believe love could last a lifetime, that there was someone special out there for everyone and that messing with another guy's someone was just all kinds of wrong.

His dad instilled a sense of honor and tradition in his only son, taught him the importance of doing things right. And thanks to the example he set in both word and deed, Aaron learned to put effort into everything he did and to look after the people who mattered most to him, so they never doubted how much he cared.

Then there was the unsolicited advice imparted from the three older sisters who insisted he learn the importance of being flexible when it came to a woman's frequently changing needs. They said it was up to him to figure out when it was time to cajole, empathize, stand his ground or keep clear.

Nothing any of them said prepared him for Talia Morales.

Talia didn't appreciate romantic gestures, public displays of affection or the amount of patience it took to deal with her when she was being ornery and unreasonable. She could be a trying woman.

But for better or worse, she was his.

Lifting his arm, he reached for the hand resting on his chest and toyed with the rings he put on her finger. Much as he enjoyed the sexual fantasies game they'd been playing while they avoided the bigger issues, he knew it wasn't enough to sustain a relationship, long term. He wanted them to spend quality time together outside the bedroom, go for dinner and a movie, take leisurely walks in the park, talk, share their thoughts and plan their future.

Things normal married couples did.

When she moved, he crossed his jaw and sucked in a breath. "Somewhere you gotta be, sugar?"

"Cocktail night with the girls," she responded brightly as she gathered her clothes and prepared to high-tail it out of the room before the sheets cooled.

It bugged the hell out of Aaron when she did that.

Weaving his fingers together behind his head, he watched what she was doing through heavily lidded eyes. "Skip it."

"Can't, I said I'd be there." She dressed in record time, fluffed her hair, slicked on a fresh coat of lipstick and spritzed herself with perfume, effectively removing all evidence of their encounter. A second later, she leaned down to kiss his cheek. "Text me when you come up with something exciting for our next date night."

When she leaned back, there was a brief pause. Light danced in the large eyes which became twin pools of liquid onyx as they warmed with a secret only she knew. It mesmerized Aaron, froze them both in a magical moment which gave him a flicker of hope she might stay. Then, with a small twitch of a smile on the corners of her lips, she turned and walked away.

Aaron frowned when she left the room. Short of paying her like a high-class hooker, the liaison couldn't have left him feeling any more alone. Rolling upright into a seated position on the edge of the bed, he rested his elbows on his knees, scrubbed his palms over his face and blinked into the middle distance. How had he got here?

Being married wasn't anything like he thought it would be. It sure as heck didn't resemble the relationship his parents presented as the ideal. Granted, they came from different generations and women were more independent in the modern age. He didn't have a problem with that. Independent coupled with attributes like frisky and feisty happened to be three of his favorite things and a big part of why he was attracted to Talia in the first place. She hadn't changed in those regards.

But was it so goddamn naïve of him to believe she could give up a smidge of her independence to live under the same roof as her husband? Hooking up for a sex a couple of times a week was something they could do with anyone.

Screw it. If the rest of his evening didn't involve any after-glowing or a brief period of shut-eye before a more languorous session of love-making, he may as well shower and head back to work. Probably best he focused on one problem at a time, anyway. When his professional battle was won, he could take time to formulate a plan of attack to conquer Mount Talia. Marketing was his thing, after all. He was king of the hill and top of the heap in his chosen profession. Ask anyone in advertising and they would agree. And that wasn't his ego talking. The truth was the truth no matter what way you sliced it.

While steam whispered into the air above his head in the washroom, he glanced in one of the mirrors and smiled. The perfect lipstick kiss on his cheek lifted his spirits. Selling a personalized version of happily-ever-after to his wife shouldn't be difficult if she felt the need to leave her mark on him for the whole wide world to see. Tossing divorce papers at her mid-argument a few months' past was a risky move on his part, but that brand and the fact she hadn't signed the papers told him everything he needed to know. They were meant to be together. He wouldn't have married her if he didn't believe that. And she wouldn't have married him if she didn't feel the same way. No-one made Talia do anything she didn't want to.

Aaron pitied the fool who tried.

The smile remained as he stepped under the hot spray and felt it cascade over his body, head bowed, eyes closed, brain still on overdrive.

Yeah, they had problems, what couple didn't? But she was good for him. She kept him on his toes so he never got complacent and, speaking as a guy who had thus far breezed his way through life without any major hiccups, he needed that.

He reached for one of the tiny bottles on a shelf by the shower head and soaped himself from head to toe. Considering her track record with relationships, getting a ring on her finger might be enough of a victory for most guys. But Aaron wanted more. A home, a family and the million memories a couple could make when they spent a lifetime together. He wanted it all.

And he wanted it with her.

Rinsed off and toweled down, he returned to the bedroom and cast a glance at the rumpled bed linen as he dressed. If all it took to make a strong, lasting relationship was great sex, there wouldn't be anything to worry about. Trouble was, he didn't feel like a husband or her partner or even much of a friend.

Maybe he should tackle the Talia problem first so he could wade into the battle at work with more gusto. Maybe if he wasn't so damn tired, he could see things more clearly. Maybe releasing his tension had been a bad idea. It kept him upright, edgy and alert. He needed to be on top of his game if he was going to wage a war on more than one front. He frowned. What he really needed was a swift kick in the nuts for over-thinking everything when he should be doing something.

Patting his pockets to make sure he had his phone, wallet and keys, he left fantasy land and returned to reality, comforted by the fact that when Talia was with the girls, she couldn't get into any trouble.

CHAPTER TWO

The girls were a couple of cocktails ahead of her by the time Talia made it across Manhattan to the Meatpacking District. Since the conversation in their corner of the popular, neon-lit bar was muted, she assumed they'd sipped them in a ladylike manner and promptly ordered a pitcher of margaritas to get the party started.

"It's time we took control of our love lives," Callie announced with a palm slap to the table an hour later.

Talia smiled as Avery and Beth rescued their glasses before the contents spilled and Madeline, the friend/business partner who tagged along with Avery, blinked in surprise. Callie, a.k.a. the kid, could always be relied on to say something stupid when she got close to her ridiculously low alcohol limit. Now the fun could begin.

"In order to take control of them, we should probably have them to begin with," Beth replied stoically in her oh-so-polite British accent. "And if we did, would we all be sitting here on a Friday night?"

Talia nodded. "I'd dump you losers in a heartbeat for a night of dirty, wanton sex."

Okay. Not entirely true. She'd already ticked dirty, wanton sex off her to-do list for the day. But as fun as it might be to engage in a longer session of her favorite way to burn calories, she never missed cocktail night with the girls.

She didn't have many girlfriends. Guys were a dime a dozen. But a woman who could see beyond her resting bitch face and accept its wearer the way she was, regardless of how uncensored she could be? That was harder to find.

"Says the only one of us currently getting any," Callie retorted. "All you have to do is snap your fingers and Aaron comes running."

"Oh, bless. You're still so young." Talia feigned a deep, heartfelt sigh. "Men can't cum running. That's doing two things at once and they all have difficulty with that."

It led to a quick-fire round of things men couldn't do while having an orgasm. But while the ribald comments amused everyone else at the table, the sound of Callie's laughter was short-lived. She wasn't going to let this go, was she? Kid could be a dog with a damn bone when she sank her teeth into something. It was one of the things Talia liked most about her, though the gleeful grinning and inner bouncing when she got her own way could be tiresome.

When the screen of Callie's cell-phone lit up and she smiled affectionately as she reached for it, Talia shook her head. Wouldn't take much effort to figure out who sent her a message and frankly, it was getting old. Callie might not be ready to admit where the impulse to take control of her love life came from but it was about damn time someone cut to the chase. And since that someone was usually Talia...

"That's your problem right there," she commented dryly as Callie set her phone back down.

"Bad cell-phone reception?"

"Oscar."

Callie had been dancing around her childhood friend for more than half her life and the way Talia saw it, until they got naked together and discovered if they were any good at the horizontal mambo, the waltz would continue.

"My love life has nothing to do with Oscar."

"I think it has a lot to do with him."

"It's not like he sets me up," Callie argued. "He's never liked anyone I've dated. If anything, he can see their flaws before I do."

"Which would be totally acceptable if he was your gay best friend," Talia pointed out. "But he's not, is he? He's just your back-up guy."

"Seriously?" Her young friend blinked. "You're throwing stones? I'm not the one keeping a walking sex toy in reserve until something better comes along."

Touché. Kid had grown a pair since her intern days.

When Callie appeared at In & Out, the interior design magazine where they all met, she was a marshmallow; too soft, too sweet and too easily burned to survive the harsh realities of life. Talia took her under her wing to help prepare her for what was coming, turned up the heat at every possible opportunity and rarely paid a compliment for a job well done. At times, it meant the kid looked at her with hurt shimmering in her big, Bambi-brown eyes. But if there were tears, she hid them well and eventually, the demonstration she had backbone coupled with the fact she worked twice as hard to prove she deserved to be there, earned Talia's respect.

Didn't mean she agreed with everything Callie said.

"The arrangement I have with Aaron suits us both," she responded with a dismissive shrug. "We may have sucked at being married but the sex was never a problem."

"And he's fine with being demoted from 'til death do us part' to booty call?"

Well, duh. "He's a guy."

No commitment, emotional or financial. None of the humdrum, daily drudge of running a home, bickering over whose turn it was to cook or clear up or do laundry. They could do what they wanted when they wanted and when what they wanted was a session of hot, sweaty sex and an explosive orgasm to ease the stress at the end of a long day, they knew who to call.

Talia didn't get why more people didn't do it.

"He's servicing you," Callie countered. "If your roles were reversed we'd be vilifying him and telling you to move on."

"He'd need a divorce before he can do that."

An edge of frustration appeared in Callie's voice. "Then cut him loose."

What was the rush? It wasn't like he gave her a deadline.

Presenting her with divorce papers was a bluff he had to know she would call one day. But somewhat ironically, the existence of the get-out-of-jail card he tossed at her after several heated arguments over their living arrangements made her feel less trapped. She was happier than she'd been since they got married. The itch which normally preceded the need to move on wasn't so much as a tickle. Nor was there a rock sitting in the pit of her stomach to warn what she was doing would end in disaster. She was almost... settled...

The thought darkened her mood.

'Settled' wasn't a word she ever envisaged being associated with her name. Not when it took so long to gain her independence. She fought tooth and nail for the right to make her own choices, stand on her own two feet and assume sole responsibility for her mental well-being. Taking someone else's feelings into consideration and learning to compromise wasn't part of the plan.

Or it wouldn't be, if, y'know, she had a plan.

"See? This is exactly what I was talking about. Look at us." Callie swung her arm out to encompass the rest of the group in their conversation. "We're beautiful, smart, sexy, go-getting women. Statistically, shouldn't one of us be in a steady relationship?"

She was right about beautiful, smart, sexy and go-getting, for the most part, but beyond that? By Talia's standards, a smidge over a year in a monogamous relationship was a lifetime. People served shorter prison sentences for smuggling or theft. Maybe she should ask for Callie's definition of 'steady'. For example: Did not having sex with anyone else count or was co-habitation a stipulation?

Relationships came in many shapes and forms and vive la difference, was Talia's mantra. Life would be incredibly boring if everyone thought, felt and acted the same way.

"I'm pretty certain in order to be in one, you have to want one," Avery commented with one of her Mona Lisa smiles.

Talia hated that smile. She couldn't remember a time when Avery's feathers got ruffled. It didn't matter if they were scrambling to hit a deadline at the magazine, if she was dealing with nit-picky clients in her new business or was accosted by a crazy person on the street. That smile was always there. Girl was practically a fucking saint.

But hello, when it came to the dating game, what the hell did she know? The only guy she'd ever been involved with was as much fun as watching paint dry. And Talia would bet a thousand bucks he was equally boring in bed. Dumping her might have been the dumbest thing he ever did, but Avery wasn't heartbroken, she'd just smiled that smile and moved on. There wasn't so much as a ripple in her serenity. Probably just as well. 'Cos if he'd hurt her, Talia would have hunted him down.

Callie sighed heavily. "I need another drink."

"You need to get laid," Talia stated flatly. "That's what this is about."

It was a couple of months since the kid dated one of the gorillas she seemed to prefer, precisely where she was going wrong in Talia's opinion. Not that there was anything wrong with a little well-toned eye candy but her taste leaned more towards cerebral men. Put some thought into how to turn a woman on and it made the guy a better lover. It was about getting inside her head, making her fantasize about what they would do when they were together.

Anticipation was foreplay.

"There's more to happily ever after than sex," Callie retorted with conviction.

Talia reached for her glass. "Not everyone gets a happily ever after, kid."

"I'm not a kid. You're only four years older than me. And I'm not talking about some fairytale romance. We all have needs, emotional as well as physical. Why aren't we out there looking for a way to satisfy them like we would if it was anything else we needed?"

"Like tampons or the perfect pizza?"

"Yes. Well, no." Since it was obvious she wasn't getting anywhere with the most cynical member of the group, Callie turned to Avery for support. "You know what I mean, right?"

"I think so," Avery replied with a small nod and a warm sparkle of benevolence in her eyes. "You're saying people make things more complicated than they have to be..."

"Yes. Thank you!"

"All we have to do is figure out what we need and go out there and get it..."

Which was different to Talia's arrangement with Aaron, how exactly? Making it sound like the removal of romance from the equation was a cardinal sin rubbed her the wrong way. Emotions complicated things. When you cared about someone, it was a weakness which could be exploited. Hadn't they all got that by now? Beth looked like a kicked puppy most of the time. It was obvious she had her heart shredded at some point.

And Beth was the type who bruised easy.

"Exactly," Callie agreed with Avery, pausing to flag down a waiter and motion for another round of drinks. "So, why aren't we doing that?"

"Because it's not that simple..."

"It wouldn't be as damn difficult if we were honest with ourselves and open to the possibilities," Callie protested.

A burst of sarcastic laughter left Talia's lips. "Like you are about Oscar?"

"Are you ever going to get off my case about him?"

She might consider it if the kid dropped the subject so they could discuss something more entertaining. Boredom was setting in. And a bored Talia tended to be trouble with a capital T. Ask anyone.

"You know we've always wondered if there was something going on with you two," Beth cautiously interjected.

"And I've explained it a hundred times," Callie answered with exasperation. "Oscar is my bestie. He knows me better than anyone, has seen me at my absolute worst and any time I've needed him, he's always been there for me. He's Oscar."

For a fleeting second of uncharacteristic curiosity, Talia wondered what it was like to have that kind of support. It was an alien concept to her and smacked a little of dependency, though she silently admitted the latter was probably a tad unfair. Apart from the time Callie's father walked out, she hadn't taken much of a hit. She would probably argue that, most people did, it was all about perception, but until she woke up and realized the only person she could rely on was the girl in the mirror, it was an argument Talia would win.

"Is he still seeing that nurse?"

"Princess Perky?" the Queen of Perk inquired, seemingly oblivious to the saying about glass houses and tossing stones. "They broke up."

Well now, that was interesting.

"I thought you didn't like her," Avery said.

"I didn't."

"The last time we had cocktails, you were worried Oscar might ask her to marry him."

"I was."

"You said it would change things," Beth meekly supplied.

"I did."

Talia butted in with the most pertinent question. "So, why aren't you celebrating?"

The waiter arrived with their drinks, which gave Callie time to think up an excuse.

Regardless of what it was, Talia wasn't buying it. She might not believe in happily-ever-after, but it was obvious Callie did. The fact she was looking for a fairytale romance in a city more concerned with wealth, status and success didn't seem to have crossed her mind.

Given time, Manhattan would chew her up and spit out the bones. She would be safer in a small town in the middle of nowhere. The kind of homey little place where falling for the boy next door was so commonplace no-one questioned it or wasted energy searching for something better. They would simply get married, pop out babies at regular intervals until all the rooms in the house they couldn't afford were full, grow old before they paid off the mortgage, then die.

A shudder trickled down Talia's spine.

She couldn't imagine anything worse.

Callie reached for her purse and dug out her credit card to pay for their drinks.

When she extended it towards the waiter, he rejected it with a shake of his head. "Compliments of the gentlemen at the bar..."

Talia turned around to give the so-called 'gentlemen' the once over. Ugh. Wall Street types, hot off the stock exchange and judging by how young they looked, less concerned with the exchange rate in the bedroom than they were in a fast turnaround. Guys like that were prime examples of why she broke her most cardinal rule and in a moment of temporary insanity, married Aaron. Even now, six months from the milestone of her thirtieth birthday, the thought of trawling the Manhattan singles scene held way less appeal than it did when she was Callie's age.

"Don't wave at them," Callie warned.

Please. Talia wasn't remotely interested in breaking them in for someone else. But if getting laid was all the kid needed to get her off the subject of twoo wuv...

"The one on the left is cute," she mused while casually tapping the tip of a crimson fingernail on her glass and studying Callie's reaction.

"Girls' night out, no guys, remember?"

So much for that idea...

"Just as well I still have my man repellant, then, isn't it?" A diamond the size of Liberty Island could be useful that way. Pouting, she held up her left hand, pointed at her ring finger, turned her back on them and promptly forgot they existed. "I think you should sleep with him."

"I'm not sleeping with some random guy who bought me a drink in a bar."

"I meant Oscar."

The look on Callie's face was priceless.

"What?" she spluttered. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Aren't you curious what it would be like?"

"No."

"You've never pictured him naked?"

"No!"

"I bet you will after this," Talia smirked.

There. That should do it.

Plant a seed in a fertile imagination and it was simply a case of sitting back to watch it grow. Callie would probably end up with some clichéd over-the-top rainbows and kittens end to her not-so-epic quest for romance anyway, so what did it matter? Talia didn't see how it would be anything else if she fell for her geek of a best friend. He would probably shower her with gifts and write daily love poems for the rest of their monotonously long lives. And he damn well should do, too. If he managed to bag Callie without a couple of million bucks in his back pocket or a Karma-Sutra level of skill in the bedroom, he would be crowned king of geek-kind.

Callie was hot in her own uniquely quirky way.

Talia didn't swing in that direction, but she wasn't blind.

Callie scowled in a way which suggested the conversation was being spoken in a language she didn't understand. "When did this turn into pick-on-Callie night?"

"Around about the time you said we all need to take control of our love lives," Talia responded acerbically. "You want to convince us, you need to lead by example."

"And the best way to do that is by having sex with Oscar?"

Frankly, Talia was stunned she hadn't considered it before. She even raised the subject with Aaron once, back in the days when they could talk for five minutes without their vastly differing opinions becoming a prelude to the apocalypse.

She glanced at the other occupants of the table. "Anyone else want to chime in on this or are we leaving it to me to say what we've all thought since she brought him to the office Christmas party?"

Avery grimaced apologetically at Callie. "You did flirt with him a lot."

"And the arm thing..." Talia prompted with a stroke of Avery's arm. "Let's not forget that."

"Or the leaning," Beth gently added, demonstrating what she meant by tipping her hands together into a praying position in front of Avery's friend/business partner who, up until then, hadn't been able to get a word in edgewise. "They leaned."

"Ahhh..." The older woman smiled, looking amused in an audience-member-watching-a-show kinda way.

Precisely. If Callie and Oscar exited an empty conference room with flushed cheeks and disheveled clothing, no-one would have batted an eyelid. Not that Talia believed nerd-boy could be spontaneous in that area without extensive tutelage.

And animated porn, if such a thing existed.

"Being friends is a good foundation for a romantic relationship," Avery stated in a reassuring tone.

"I happen to believe being physically attracted to a guy is important," Callie said. "You need that spark."

"And there's no spark with Oscar?" Avery inquired. "Not even a little bit?"

"There's nothing going on with me and Oscar," Callie continued to protest. "And you're deflecting. The proposal on the table is we all agree to do something about our love lives. Talia needs to cut Aaron loose so they both have a chance at happiness. Sign the damn papers, already."

Looking Talia in the eye as she said it was a ballsy move. But the fact she was probably right didn't endear her any.

Talia made up her mind in her own sweet time. She wouldn't be pressurized, manipulated or cajoled. Anyone who attempted to 'manage her' was either lobotomy level stupid or had yet to discover it usually had the opposite effect.

"Avery needs to actually go on a date," Callie stated firmly as she moved on. "Find someone at the High School reunion you were telling us about and have a one-night stand if that's what it takes to get started again."

Skipping past the part about a reunion she'd obviously missed because she arrived late, Talia silently agreed. Good plan. With any luck, Saint Avery might experience an orgasm somewhere along the way. Lord knew, she needed one.

"And Beth..." Everyone's gaze slid to Beth while Callie faltered. "What do you need?"

Excellent question, because seriously, who knew?

Thanks to the alcohol she'd consumed, Beth managed to shrug nonchalantly and say something uncharacteristically blunt. "I need sex to be available on a menu like takeaway food. You make a phone call, place your order and a man arrives at your door to deliver it. You pay him, he leaves. No muss, no fuss."

Talia blinked. Note to self: Get Beth drunk more often.

The suggestion was so close to the scenario she played out with Aaron before getting there, it created a delicious tingle of remembrance on her skin which on someone else, could have been mistaken for a flush of embarrassment. Not her, though. If anything, she had to stifle a satisfied smile.

There was a lot to be said for anonymous sex.

But back on topic, while she suspected staid and cautious little Beth might find the experience somewhat akin to soul destroying, there was a more important point to be made. "If there's no muss involved, he's not doing it right. Getting mussed is half the fun."

Callie nodded absentmindedly. "I'm also pretty certain what you're suggesting is illegal in the state of New York."

Like that ever stopped anyone...

"I've seen advertisements," Beth protested weakly.

"Answer one and you'll probably get a photo album full of penis pictures sent to your phone."

"True." Talia nodded in agreement before she proposed a solution to the problem. "But I might know someone..."

Callie rolled her eyes. "Of course, you do."

"I'm serious. There's this guy on the top floor of my apartment complex I'm pretty certain is a male escort, or at least a man-whore. Either one would do." She turned her attention to Beth. "I could ask for his number if you–"

"No," Callie said firmly. "You're not fixing her up with a hooker. This is about finding love."

"You just told Avery she should have sex with some random guy at her reunion."

"You can't go fishing until you break the ice."

"I knew you were a quarter Canadian. I didn't realize there was Alaskan blood in there, too."

"She's been out of the game for so long she's practically a born-again virgin," Callie countered haughtily. "Break the ice with a guy who knows what he's doing and she can focus on making herself emotionally available to the one."

That last part was a whole other debate. But strip away all the right guy crap and at the heart of it, she was encouraging them to step out of their comfort zones. Talia was down with that. She knew from the moment she said, 'I do' she couldn't stay married to Aaron forever. Once they started to run short of fantasies, the rot would set in. And while he'd proven to have an active imagination thus far, it was only a matter of time before the clichés started to appear. When that happened, Talia would get bored, which in turn would lead to some of that trouble she'd mentioned.

"Hello?" Avery waved an elegant hand in the air. "I'm sitting right here." She laughed a little uncomfortably. "And I'm not emotionally unavailable."

"Yeah, you are," Talia pointed at Beth while her focus remained fixed on Callie. "And she's repressed. Until you both loosen up there's not a chance in hell you're gonna find the mythical happily-ever-after our little chestnut-haired Doris Day is trying to sell us in on."

"I'm not Doris Day. If I was anyone from back then, I'd be Mary Tyler-Moore."

"If you say so, kid," Talia said dryly.

"I'm not a-"

"Yeah, you are." There were times her child-like enthusiasm made Talia feel old beyond her years. "Life hasn't knocked all the shine off you yet. Enjoy it while you still can."

Whatever youthful shine Talia once possessed had been beaten and battered, chipped off piece-by-piece until there was only a tough, abrasive surface left behind. A lot of people found that off-putting. But the way she saw it, they hadn't lived her life and until they did, they could take her as she was or keep right on walking.

"You're right." She nodded firmly. "We all need to make changes. Just cos I don't believe in happily-ever-after doesn't mean some version of it isn't out there for you, or Avery, or Beth." She muttered beneath her breath, "Or Aaron..."

The next sip of sublimely mixed alcohol she took felt like acid on her tongue. That better not be guilt. She hated being made to feel guilty about anything. After it had been heaped on her by the bucket load for more than half her life, she refused point blank to ever feel it again.

Part of the problem, and most likely why she hadn't signed the divorce papers yet, was she didn't hate Aaron. Sure, there were times he could make her so mad she wanted to dig his heart out with a spoon. But there were other, more noteworthy times, when she looked at him and figured marrying him wasn't the worst move she ever made. He was sharp as a tack, ambitious as hell and a tiger in bed. What wasn't to like?

Granted, he was a little too all-American in the looks department. But tall, broad shouldered and ripped as fuck made her attraction to him easier to understand. And he was... well, occasionally he could be... and sometimes she even wondered...

She crushed the thought beneath an imaginary stiletto heel and mentally bitch-slapped herself for allowing her mind to wander like Beth's was prone to do. Callie was right. It was time to sign the damn papers and move on. Aaron would get over it. She was doing him a solid by dumping him.

When she glanced at Callie, what she saw made her frown.

"Uh-uh." She waggled a forefinger in warning. "If we're going to agree to this, that can't happen."

"What can't?"

"The bouncing. When you get excited you're like a puppy with a new squeaky toy."

Callie smiled. "A really adorable puppy, though, right? That's why you love me."

"Who says I love you?"

Fond of her and thought she had potential, sure, but love? Nuh-uh. Once Talia discovered the heartache, misery and subjugation that came with it, she vowed love could kiss her sensational ass before she let it rule her head.

She didn't do love.

"If you didn't, you wouldn't be agreeing to this," Callie responded with an innocent flutter of her lashes.

"What exactly are we agreeing to?" Beth interjected. "It's best to iron out all the fine print before we move forward..."

"You're in?" Callie inquired with a face-splitting grin.

"I'm sozzled enough to consider it."

"Yay!"

For fuck sake. Talia sighed impatiently. "Bouncing."

"Sorry."

"I doubt that. But you will be in a minute." Talia leaned forward, pinned Callie in place with a stare and laid out her terms. "We've all got obstacles to overcome before we embark on this great scheme of yours. And if I'm about to remove mine by signing my name on the bottom of those divorce papers, you are gonna confront the Oscar issue, head-on."

"There isn't a–"

"So you keep saying."

"Because there isn't one!"

The palm of Talia's slapping hand itched. She was rapidly losing her meagre patience. "You're sure he doesn't have a thing for you? He followed you here, didn't he?"

"He had a job offer."

"You told us he turned down a better paid job in Chicago."

Callie's lower lip looked suspiciously wobbly. "He said he could never live in a city that had a wind problem."

And she bought that?

No-one in their right mind turned down a better paid job unless there was something they considered more important. How could the kid be so blind to what was so blatantly obvious to everyone else? Wood for the trees was one answer. Paralyzing fear was more likely.

That was the problem when you had something to lose.

When the kid scowled, she was all over it. "You're having a moment of doubt now, aren't you?"

Avery broke the stalemate with, "Callie. Who is the first person you call when you've got news to share? "

"Oscar."

"And when you're upset about something?" Beth inquired.

"Oscar."

Suddenly Talia had a much clearer understanding of why therapists made so much money. They deserved every red cent when getting to the truth felt like mining for gold with a toothpick. "And let's say you have somewhere to go–like, for example, an office Christmas party–but you don't have a date. Who do you take with you?"

No reply.

Avery smiled gently. "You love him."

"Everyone loves Oscar," Callie mumbled, petulantly.

Nope. Not true. Talia wouldn't spare him a second glance if he wasn't with Callie. No drive, no ambition, content to waste away his life working in a cubicle. He even shared a tiny apartment with one of his equally geeky compatriots and while she would never buy into the outdated notion a man should support a woman financially so all she had to worry about was spitting out kids, there was a lot to be said for living comfortably. She didn't get the Oscar attraction, at all.

"You're good together," Avery said encouragingly.

"Not in that way." The smile Callie attempted looked painful. "I can't force myself to feel something I don't."

Translation: She was too chicken to find out how she felt.

"You're absolutely certain you don't?"

The question made her glare at Talia. "What do I have to do to convince you?"

Finally. She thought the kid would never ask.

"Forget the boy who has been there since you were a kid," she stated firmly. "The best friend who brings over a gallon of ice-cream and two spoons when you get your heart broken. Open your eyes. Look at Oscar, the man, like he's some random guy you've just met, and see if there's a possibility you might find him attractive."

In the absence of financial security, they needed something going for them. And if the sex was bad too, what the hell was the point? The sooner they found out, the sooner they could move on and wasn't that the whole point of this stupid debate?

Kid shouldn't dish out what she couldn't take.

"I can't remove two decades of history from the equation," Callie said plaintively enough to make Talia literally want to shake some sense into her.

"Try."

"And if I don't find him attractive?"

"You stop dating losers who are his polar-opposite and look for someone like Oscar, who you are attracted to."

Problem solved.

Before Callie could comment, she added, "I don't want you to make a mistake you'll regret for the rest of your life."

"Like, for example, talking to you about this?"

No. That was due. "More like not realizing what you need is standing right in front of you." The words made Talia want to gag but Callie would suck up that romantic bullshit with a straw. "Don't leave it 'til it's too late, kid."

Life was too fucking short for regrets and Talia knew only too well...so... Wait. What was that? Oh, no she didn't.

As something resembling realization appeared in Callie's eyes, Talia stopped her train of thought before it ran off the rails. "What you're thinking right now is written all over your face. Don't go there."

The conversation they were having was about Callie and Oscar.

Not Talia and Aaron.

She swiftly ordered another round and added shots so they could toast what she told the waiter with a wink was a Passion Pact. "We're doing this. All of us." Her gaze shifted to Avery's friend. What was her name again? Missy? Mary? Maddie? Talia couldn't remember. Maybe she was more drunk than she'd thought. What the hell. Girl may as well join them. "You in?"

The woman smiled and shrugged a shoulder. "Sure. Why not? I'm not screwing anyone right now, anyway."

And just like that, Talia liked her.

When she looked at Callie again, the kid's brows raised. "Are you sure?"

"I am. Just make certain you are, too."

"I will."

The others added their names to the hastily drafted contract Beth scribbled on a napkin. It wouldn't stand up in court, but that wasn't the point. Whether it was premeditated or a spur-of-the-moment thing, Callie's timing couldn't have been better. Stay in the same place for too long and their lives would become stagnant. It was time to make changes, shake things up and see what was out there.

The world was a big place.

So many well-hung men, so little time to do them all...

Talia was the last to add her signature. Then she set down the pen and raised her shot glass. "To the Passion Pact."

"The Passion Pact," everyone echoed.

They clicked the tiny glasses together, downed the contents and just like that, the deal was done. Better still, all Talia had to do to live up to her part of the bargain was sign the divorce papers. And really, how hard could that be?

It wasn't like Aaron didn't know it was coming.

CHAPTER THREE

He hadn't seen it coming. That was the hardest thing to take. The gut instincts he relied on had never let him down before. They chose one heck of a time to start.

"What?" he barked.

It was seven-thirty in the a.m. and he had been at his desk since the butt-crack of dawn. The scent of whoever was pissing on his territory grew stronger with each passing day and until he was face-to-face with the sonofabitch, he didn't plan to leave it unprotected. If necessary, he would sleep there.

Mickey, his personal assistant, smiled cheerily as she entered the room. "Well, good morning to you, too."

Despite the presence of two coffee cups in her capable hands, Aaron wasn't pleased to see her.

"Michaela," he responded flatly, fully aware of how much it irritated her when he used her full name. "You ever plan on listening when I say I don't want to be disturbed?"

"Not while you're being a tyrant." As she set one of the cups down in front of him, a tempting hint of his favorite double shot, amaretto Latté wafted into the air. "Wifey-poos kick you out of bed again?"

"The subject of my wife is still off limits. And if you don't have something important to tell me, go away."

Predictably, she ignored him and plunked down on one of the designer chairs facing his desk. "Unless my Math is off-which we both know isn't likely, because I never make a mistake, you have an anniversary coming up. Figured you'd want to run gift ideas past me before you embarrass yourself with something lame like lingerie, perfume or flowers..."

Aaron reached for his coffee. He shouldn't be surprised. What Mickey didn't know about the lives of everyone who worked for the company wasn't worth talking about. He'd used the information she gathered to his advantage more than once in the past, but having her make observations about his private life didn't sit well. Not when it already felt like he was at war with the world.

She nodded at the hand cradling his cup. "That appeared on your finger a month after I got here. And since you're getting me something fabulous this week for our anniversary - don't stress about it, I'll charge it to your credit card like I always do when I've earned a bonus - it's time to discuss how you're gonna suck up to the person who has a better chance of improving your mood. "

"Remind me again why I hired you?"

"You lost at rock, paper, scissors..."

Ah, yes, now he remembered. Six times, if he recalled it correctly. When she suggested the seventh was for his job, he quit while he was ahead. He never mentioned the decision to hire her was made within ten minutes of her arrival at the interview. A sharp mind combined with wit, audacity and a vivid imagination would carry her to the top of the advertising food chain, if she was given the opportunity to shine. Goth meets nineteen fifties rock chick, complete with ever-changing, brightly colored hair and numerous tattoos might be a tad off-putting for some senior executives. But not Aaron. The second he laid eyes on her, he could see she was fierce. And who wouldn't want a woman like that on their side?

"You got a romantic getaway planned?" she inquired with the arch of one artfully penciled brow.

Chance would be a fine thing. Even if Talia wasn't vehemently averse to romance, finding an opening on the same date in both their work schedules was the equivalent of searching for a unicorn in Brooklyn, while blindfolded.

"Don't you have assistant stuff to do?"

"This falls under the remit of 'personal' in my job description. A happy home life means we get a happy boss. And a happy boss means less tip-toeing round the office."

How she tip-toed anywhere in the thick platform-heeled shoes she favored remained a mystery to Aaron. And he didn't think he was that difficult to be around. If anything, he thought he was holding up pretty fucking well given the circumstances. Tired? Sure. He hadn't slept a full six hours since word got to him about the acquisition of company shares. Frustrated by his inability to discover who was buying them? Yup. It was like the deep-pocketed bastard didn't have a name. Would he feel better if his relationship with Talia was on firmer ground? Probably. It would be nice to think there was one part of his life still on track.

As usual when he thought about her at work, his gaze was drawn to one of the framed photographs in a gallery of his achievements displayed on the wall behind Mickey's head. Most showed him receiving awards or meeting with important clients or socializing with the rich and famous.

The one he focused on was more personal.

It was taken at the first team-building weekend he organized during his meteoric rise to management. Talia was still with the company then, making the long, laborious climb from mailroom to boardroom, before she abandoned the quest for the position her husband now occupied in her stead. That weekend was the first opportunity they got to spend quality time together, albeit as opposing team leaders. Sparks flew from the get-go. They were both competitive, determined to win, even if it meant playing dirty. But the smiles on the two mud-streaked faces in that photograph told another story.

Despite what some folks thought, Aaron hadn't married the boss's daughter to advance his career. He married her because from that weekend on, he couldn't picture sharing his life with anyone else.

The memory used to make him feel warm and fuzzy inside. Now it created a dull pang which resembled hunger pains.

What happened to the woman he fell in love with that weekend? The one who could make him laugh until his ribs hurt, whose cynicism was so clearly threaded with heartache it made him want to hold her in his arms and keep her safe so she never felt pain again?

All he wanted to do was love her.

All she had to do was let him.

"Aaron."

How did his life get so messed up? A wife who didn't want to live with him, the job he worked his ass off to get threatened by an invisible foe...

"Aaron."

Probably not the best time to close on the sale of his apartment and start searching for a new place to live. That apartment had taken forever to find in the right location at the right price and he'd spent even more time turning it into a home. But if his wife didn't want to live there and liquidizing assets to buy additional shares was what it took to save her father's company for future generations, then -

"Aaron!"

"What?"

Mickey narrowed her eyes. "You're worrying me. It's like you've been on a different planet these last few weeks."

"I've been here at least twelve hours a day for the past three months," Aaron countered defensively. Between courting new clients, placating existing ones and checking every tiny detail of every big account, he was doing the work of ten men. "And since I'm in the middle of fighting a hostile takeover, do you think you might maybe get to the point sometime soon?"

"The takeover is only part of it. We both know what or more specifically who the other part of the problem is..."

Aaron set his coffee aside and nudged his chair closer to his keyboard. "I'm good. You can quit worrying."

"You're not good. You're headed for an ulcer when there's an obvious solution to the problem staring you right in the face. Get wifey-poos proxy, then you'll be good."

"No."

"Aaron -"

"No," he repeated firmly.

Drawing a line between his work and private lives hadn't been easy but he'd managed to keep them separate thus far. Talia's departure from the company helped - not that her father was happy about it - as did the unspoken agreement she made with her husband never to talk about why she left. The relationships they each had with her father were no-go areas, too. As was anything to do with their sexual history, the subject of joint finances and football when the New York Giants played the Dallas Cowboys. Yes, there were a lot of things they needed to discuss. But her coming to his rescue because he wasn't man enough to protect her interests wasn't, and never would be, one of them.

"You're being stupid about this," Mickey stated bluntly. "Even if she continues to abstain the way she has by not showing up for a single board meeting since her father died, whoever this guy is could still end up with enough shares to sway the vote in his favor. He could oust you."

Oust. Good word. Much more civilized than 'screw you over' or 'toss you out on your ass'...

He'd never been out of work before, walked straight out of college, got on a plane and pitched himself at Talia's father on the sidewalk as the man walked to his chauffeur driven car. A deliberately targeted attack. One which paid off. Worse came to worst, he could do that again.

And this time, apart from being ousted, he would have a fully loaded resume tucked in his holster.

When he opened his mouth to say so, Mickey held up her hand. "No. Part of the reason you hired me is because I say it how I see it and if I'm about to lose my job, I get to have an opinion on the choices you make."

"You won't lose your job."

"Everyone knows where my loyalties lie. You go, I go. It's as simple as that. We're family."

A smile tugged at the corners of Aaron's mouth. It meant a lot that she felt that way, to know there was someone who had his back.

But Mickey shook her head. "I wouldn't look so happy about it if I were you. Screw this up and I expect you to find a highly-paid alternative for us both."

"Who'll get my coffee if I don't take you with me?"

"A trained monkey could bring you coffee."

Aaron disagreed. He'd employed several trained monkeys over the years and they all got his coffee order wrong. One fucking idiot even brought him herbal tea.

Mickey drew in a long breath, her voice an octave lower than before. "Have you talked to her about what's happening?"

"No."

"Don't you think it's about time you did?"

How many monosyllabic answers would it take before she took the hint and went away? When she sucked in a breath and leaned forward in her seat, the move gave him hope a departure might be imminent. Then she crossed the line.

"Look, I don't know what kind of weird marriage arrangement you two have and frankly, I'm not interested in the sordid details. But, call me an idealist, I happen to think it should be an equal partnership. If she gives a crap about you, the very least she can do is stand up and be counted. We both know you'd do it for her. And have done. Several times."

"That's enough, Michaela," Aaron warned.

"It's nowhere near enough," she argued as she got to her feet. "And you should be thankful what you just got is an edited version of what I really want to say."

Aaron gritted his teeth. Alienating the one person in New York he could trust with anything wasn't a smart move. But as Mickey tugged on her skirt and turned to leave, something inside him snapped.

He was sick of feeling impotent, like everything that mattered to him was slipping through his fingers and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to stop it happening. "You got more, let's hear it." He jerked his brows when she looked at him. "Better to say it to my face than discuss it at the water cooler, don't you think?"

"We both know I've never spent time at a water cooler. When I go searching for information, I do it with finesse." She sucked in a sharp breath. "Cut the crap, Aaron. I didn't sign up to work for a schmuck. I chose to work for you because, after extensive research, I thought you were the best."

The statement put his back up. Apart from her use of the past tense, she made it sound like he didn't have a choice. "Figured hitching your wagon to a rising star would get you to management town quicker, did you?"

"Yes, Aaron. Smart people make smart decisions. You want to stay mostly married, that's up to you. But when your wife starts to screw things up here," she tapped her forefinger against her temple. "It becomes my problem. You need to sort your shit out. Stop wallowing in self-pity and decide what the hell it is you want. Use your head. If you insist on thinking with your dick, I can't help you."

A burst of sarcastic laughter left his lips. "You're so far out over the line now, you're flailing."

"I'm not flailing. I'm rock solid. One of us needs to be. You've been all over the place, trying to control everything instead of trusting your team to get the job done. Focusing on the big stuff is supposed to be your job." She didn't pause for breath before landing the heaviest blow. "You took your eye off the ball. That's why we're in this mess. You want the truth? She's not good for you. You're not happy. And your relationship with her is screwing with your focus."

Anger swept over him like a tsunami. "What the hell gives you the right -?"

"I don't even have to look at your diary to know when you've spent time with her. You get all dark and distracted." Reciprocal anger flashed in her eyes. "And I'm saying this because I care. Interfering is what family does. If you think for one second I'm going to stand idly by while you dig a hole it could take years to climb out of-"

"That's enough, Michaela!"

"No, it's not! And I won't apologize for saying it." Despite the flash of hurt in her eyes that he'd raised his voice to her, she hefted her chin up a defiant inch. "You want to fight this takeover, I'll fight with you, using every weapon in our arsenal, one which includes your wife's proxy. But if you're struggling with the decision to step out from under your father-in-law's shadow to build something of your own, then let me make it simple for you. Man up. Tell your wife you want out so we can start making plans. Sitting around waiting for someone to push you out is cowardly."

"That's not what I'm doing."

She aimed a look of disdain at him. "Isn't it?"

Grinding his molars together, Aaron fought through a wall of anger and sought reason. He knew she meant well and there were a lot of painful home truths in what she said. But the latter brought him dangerously close to the proverbial straw.

"You done?"

Mickey shook her head in a way which suggested she was disappointed in him. "Almost." She produced a small slip of paper from her cleavage and thrust it towards him. "Here."

"What is it?" He frowned as he took it from her.

"The name of the guy who's coming after you."

"How did you...?" He shook his head. "Never mind."

It didn't matter how she got it and he suspected he was better off not knowing. Casting his gaze over the guy's name made him frown even harder. He was certain when he saw it, he would know who he was fighting and why. "Who is he?"

"I'm still working on that part." She placed her hands on her hips and shared what she'd learned. "Beyond the fact he's self-made, stinking rich and made his start in coffee, there's little to nothing, information-wise, about his background. He's taken over a few companies. But when he did, they were related to what he already does and the move wasn't made from the shadows. This is new territory for him."

"Why now? Why us?"

"When I know, you'll know."

"Okay." Aaron nodded. "Good work."

She shrugged. "Like I keep telling you: I'm awesome."

"And under-appreciated?"

"Sorely." She nodded at the cup on his desk. "Now be a good boy and drink your coffee before it gets cold. You need the caffeine. There's a staff meeting in a half hour and the natives are getting restless. They need their leader to look fearless. Not hopeless."

Aaron lifted his cup as she crossed the room. "Mickey?"

"Yeah?" She turned to look at him.

"Thanks."

"Hmmm..."

The response could have been perceived as further evidence of her disapproval. But the ghost of a smile hovering on her lips before she left told Aaron he was forgiven.

As the door closed behind her, he turned his chair towards the windows and stared at the Manhattan skyline. He worked hard to get that view, used to believe once he had it everything else would fall into place. Truth was, no matter how hard he worked, the company wasn't and never would be his. Anything he added to it simply built a layer of bricks on a foundation someone else laid. And to make matters worse, it was another house his wife didn't want to share with him.

So, why fight to save it?

It wasn't like Talia would thank him if he did.

Enough defeatist thinking. He needed to talk to her. If he set one part of his life in order - the part which mattered most - it would give him the strength he needed to deal with everything else. That was a more pro-active plan.

When the perfect opportunity jumped into his mind, he checked his desk calendar. Yeah, that should do it.

He leaned back in his chair and took a long, deep breath. Attending company sponsored events together was part of the deal and as much as he knew she hated them, getting her attention someplace where they couldn't be distracted by sex made it the ideal venue to woo his wife. They would be all gussied up and there would be candlelight and slow dancing and a crowd of people who still considered the loss of Talia's father a tragedy, which meant she was much less likely to yell at him when he said something she didn't like. And if he spooned on some romance, there wasn't a thing she could do to stop him.

With their anniversary coming up, people would expect nothing less. What's more, he had to make a speech and he wouldn't be much of a husband if his wife didn't get an honorary mention. A public profession of love might bring him dangerously close to castration territory when the party was over but if a grand gesture was what it took...

Inspired, he searched the desk's drawers for paper and a pen and started working on the first draft of the most important advertising copy he'd ever written.
CHAPTER FOUR

A large box was delivered to Talia's studio.

Since she was surrounded by models, stylists, make-up people and hairdressers at the time her signature was required, she set it aside and ignored it. Dealing with a crowd at a fashion shoot, even when it was for a relaxed, bohemian-style clothing company, was akin to herding cats, so she didn't need the distraction.

But at the end of an extremely long day, when she had a glass of much needed wine in hand, it called to her.

What was it, anyway? She hadn't ordered anything online which required a large box. No senders address on the outside. Freaking typical. There was probably a huge warehouse somewhere filled with boxes which couldn't be returned to sender for that very reason. People could be so dumb.

Turned out it was a box within a box and the second one had layers of gossamer light tissue paper which wouldn't protect the contents from a sneeze. You wanted to protect something you used those little foamy things or the plastic with air bubbles or, ooohhhh a dress! An Elie Saab evening dress to be precise and when removed from the box and studied at arm's length, it was sensational.

Unable to resist, Talia took it over to a full-length mirror and held it up in front of her body. Wrapping an arm around her waist to cinch it in, she swung the skirt from side to side like a beautiful lace-with-beads-over-organza bell gently chiming, 'ding, dong, try me on, you know you want, to'.

Had to be done.

She stripped down to her underwear behind one of the screens the models used.

Fastening the dress at the back took all her contortionist skills and it was strapless, which meant she had to wriggle around some more to get out of her bra but when she stood in front of the mirror again, it was totally worth the effort. There was no doubting it was haute couture, one of a kind and thousands of dollars expensive. Anyone who knew clothes could see that. And with her hair and make-up done, she would make it look even better than it already did.

Who would send her something so gorgeous and knew her well enough to trust she wouldn't toss it back in their face?

Okay, when it came to the latter, maybe they didn't know, hence the lack of a return address. A secret admirer? Could be. She was fabulous enough to attract one. Then again, maybe it was supposed to be part of another photo shoot. Nah, they wouldn't send it to her and the dress was her size, which was nowhere close to the size zero model agencies preferred.

Maybe there was a card in the box?

Raising the skirts so they wouldn't get dirty - a shopping trip for a pair of equally gorgeous skyscraper heeled shoes to go with it was required - she went back to the box and rifled through the tissue paper. Aha! There it was.

The message on the card was succinct:

'For the benefit Saturday. Be there 8.30. Aaron.'

Well, shit. Now he'd ruined it for her. She was perfectly capable of buying her own goddamn dress for the stupid benefit. She probably wouldn't even have bought something new. And it sure as hell wouldn't have been this expensive if she did.

He was dressing her now?

She reached for her wineglass and downed half the contents.

The only part of her wardrobe he was supposed to get involved with was removing her clothes before they fucked. Sometimes he barely managed the former before they got down to the latter. And now he was telling her what to wear?

She didn't think so.

Mid-stomp back to the clothes she'd left behind the screen, she got sidetracked at the mirror again. It really was a gorgeous dress. Had he been thinking about removing it when he bought it? A couple of fastenings undone at the back and a shimmy of her hips was all it would take to pool the decadent material around her ankles like the dress she'd discarded in the hotel room on their last date night. With very little effort, she could picture herself stepping out of it, wearing nothing but stockings, her new skyscraper heels and a smile. Was that what he had in mind? If it was, she could consider it a two-birds-one-stone scenario. She'd play her part in one last fantasy and turn it into a memorable goodbye.

An image of blue flames blazing in Aaron's eyes entered her mind. She'd never doubted he wanted her. How much he did and the fact he didn't hide it, turned her on from the get-go. Even now, while wearing the dress he bought, the thought of him removing it made her panties wet.

So, why wasn't the woman in the mirror smiling?

Because, deep down, she knew he was going to be pissed when she signed the papers. Maybe even a little hurt?

Well, what the fuck did he expect? He knew what he was getting into. When he suggested they get married, she wasn't too drunk to forget him mention something along the lines of being crazy about her because she was so wild and free. How could he say that and not know caging her was a bad idea?

She was not going to feel guilty about dumping him. And, much as it killed her, she was not going to wear this beautiful dress. If she went to the benefit, she would wear a dress she bought, with money she earned, doing what she chose as a career. It was all about her. And if Aaron had a problem with that, he could go fuck himself.

She was back in her work uniform of jeans and a tee and had the dress repacked in the boxes when her cellphone rang.

A quick glance at the screen didn't improve her mood.

If Beth was calling to complain she hadn't handed in last month's receipts or was late with tax crap, she swore...

"What?"

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line, followed by a hesitant, "Is this a bad time?"

Talia sighed heavily and topped up her wine as she backed down. "No. Long day. What can I do for you?"

"Would you like to go out for a drink?"

"Are we going to talk about my accounts?"

"No."

"Then, yes." The invitation couldn't have come at a better time. "When and where?"

"I was thinking, maybe The Dove, at nine?"

Good choice. Great wine list. "I'm in."

"It's just the two of us," Beth said apologetically.

Talia shook her head. Why did she feel the need to do that? Okay, so they hadn't spent much one-on-one time together. Beth was closer to Avery than Talia. Quite possibly because Avery got on with everyone under the sun and was always wearing that smile. More likely because Talia was a cougar and Beth was an itty bitty timid little church mouse she could swallow without chewing. But Talia was picky as hell and Beth had made it into her inner circle. She should give herself props for that.

"Just the two of us is fine."

"We could have dinner if you're hungry."

"You had me at drinks, Beth."

"It's not a big night out or anything..."

This call could have been so much shorter. "Ever heard the phrase quit while you're ahead?"

"Yes, sorry. I'll go, then."

"Stop apologizing. I'll see you at nine."

Talia hung up and swapped her phone for her wineglass. Beth was hard work. Her politeness was irritating as hell and she always seemed to be apologizing for something. Sorry the weather's not good today, sorry the cab was late, sorry about the whole redcoat's thing. And that last one wasn't an exaggeration. It was like she was driven to take personal responsibility for every little hiccup in the history of Anglo-America relations.

New Yorkers like Talia didn't apologize for anything. They demanded. Good service, high standards, that they should get what they wanted when they wanted. No excuses. Beth had lived in the city for what, five years now? Why hadn't any of that New York attitude rubbed off on her?

Now Callie-the-kid was showing signs of maturing, maybe it was time Talia turned her attention to Beth. Lord knew the girl needed a kick up the ass. And Talia could do with a new project to take her mind off other, more annoying things.

Things she was not going to feel guilty about.

Of course, the first question to leave Beth's lips when Talia arrived at the designated drinking hole on Bleeker Street was, "Have you signed the papers, yet?"

"Is that why we're here, so you can check up on me?"

"No."

It better not be. She was going to sign the damn papers. She'd said so, hadn't she? Reaching for the wine list, she perused what was on offer, determined not to discuss the subject any further. "So, what are we having?"

"Sorry, I haven't looked at the list yet." While Beth took forever deciding what to choose, she raised another subject from the pact. "What do you think Callie will do about Oscar?"

"If it was me, I'd have sex with him and get it over with. When she finds out he's crap in bed, she'll move on."

Beth blinked. "What makes you so certain he's not any good at... you know..."

If she had difficulty saying the word, Talia didn't see how she was ever going to get laid. But if some education on the subject was what she sought, she'd come to the right place. "Have you seen him? He may have toned up some in the last year but he's still the dictionary definition of a nerd."

"Which automatically means he'll be dreadful in bed?"

To be honest, Talia's assumption stemmed more from the fact he'd never paid any attention to her. She was fully aware of the effect she had on men, discovered the power which came with it pretty much the second she sprouted her magnificent tits, and that a loser like Oscar Levinson hadn't so much as checked them out, said it all.

Those beauties were hard to miss, particularly when she was so adept at displaying them.

At the start, she even wondered if Oscar was gay, though the kid defended him vociferously when Talia suggested it.

"People who are good in bed know it," she stated with conviction. "It boosts their self-confidence like a superpower and adds a little something, something to the mix that draws members of the opposite sex to them. They have a vibe."

Beth mulled over the information before asking, "Do you think a person can get better at it with practice?"

"I think they can get better with help." Talia shrugged. "It's the same with anything. You want to be good at something you research it, learn everything you can from someone who has mastered the subject. Then you practice what you've been taught. If there was a black belt in sex, I'd be like a Sensei or something. And you'd be the Karate Kid."

She smiled at her own genius. Given a second, she could probably even come up with a sex analogy for the classic 'wax on, wax off' line.

There was another prolonged silence and, not for the first time, Talia wondered if Beth had more than one voice in her head. Since she assumed if there was, there was an argument going on in there, she jumped in with both feet. Again.

"That's your problem right there..."

"Mmmm?"

"You over-think everything. This conversation is just a continuation of the one we had over cocktails. I'm down with your plan, if that's what you're worried about. If you want to get more action in the sack, hiring a professional makes perfect sense."

Beth laughed nervously. "That was a joke."

"Was it?" Talia challenged. "Maybe the alcohol loosened your tongue. You can't tell me you haven't thought about it since then."

Color suffused Beth's pale cheeks. "Well, no, I can't. But that doesn't mean I'm seriously considering-"

"Be a hell of a lot easier than looking for the perfect guy and I'm pretty sure satisfaction is guaranteed. You won't get that on a random hook-up."

Beth lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Don't you think it's a little... sordid and... dirty?"

"Getting down and dirty would do you good. And when I say down, I mean your first demand should be his head between your legs and his tongue on your -"

"Stop." Beth gasped in outrage while glancing around to see if their conversation was overheard. "I get it."

Talia very much doubted she'd ever got it. Not the way a woman needed it. "All I'm saying is, if just thinking about this isn't getting your pussy wet, then-"

"Please stop."

The heartfelt plea made her chuckle throatily.

"You're incorrigible," Beth scolded.

"I've been called worse."

There was yet another long pause, during which Talia tried to figure out why it was taking so long for a waiter to appear. Okay, so the place was packed. Big deal. Girl could die of thirst over here. Ah, finally.

"What can I get you? "

Talia ordered a glass of Shiraz because she didn't believe in mixing her drinks mid-week. Then she smiled sweetly and added, "She'll have a dirty martini. In fact, make it two to every one of mine and I'll tip you double the usual rate to keep them coming."

Oblivious to what was ordered, Beth sucked in a breath. "Let's say, hypothetically, I was considering this..."

"I'd say just do it. It's not like you have anything to lose..." She narrowed her eyes. "You have done it before, right? You're not the only twenty-seven-year-old virgin in town?"

"I'm almost twenty-eight."

"Whatever. You're not, are you?"

"I'm sorry." Beth glanced around the room again. "Do you realize how loud your voice is?"

"Tell me you've done it more than once."

"Yes," Beth hissed as color fully infused her cheeks.

"You're sure his cock was all the way in?"

When their drinks arrived, Beth downed her first martini in one impressive, puffy cheeked gulp, followed by a ladylike cough and blinking of watery eyes. "We did it more than once and I'm quite sure, thank you."

"Don't tell me it was just the one guy?"

"It wasn't while we were part of a crowd, if that's what you're suggesting."

Shit. It was just the one guy. And Talia would bet her favorite vibrator he was the reason for her kicked puppy expression. "How long were you with him?"

"Long enough for him to decide I wasn't the one for him." There was a delicate, half-hearted shrug of one narrow shoulder. "Three years or thereabouts, officially, though we knew each other longer than that." Beth pushed the empty glass aside and toyed with the stem of the next one. "He's marrying my sister in August."

"Bastard."

Beth smiled weakly. "Thank you."

"I'm not saying that cos I'm your friend. I'm saying it cos it's a shitty move. And what kind of twisted bitch is your sister to move in on him? Was she fucking him before you two broke up?"

"No. I don't think so. It's not that simple."

Since Talia wasn't really interested in the details she said, "Okay, then. Let's get back to what is: Hiring a professional. The guy in my building..."

"I'm really not certain -"

Talia leaned forwards. "Look me in the eye and tell me it's totally off the table, that you're not interested in multiple orgasms with no strings attached and that you haven't been fantasizing about it since cocktail night."

The demand made Beth frown into her glass for long enough to categorize it as navel gazing. But at the exact time Talia decided it was time to snap her out of it...

"I can't," she confessed.

Running on the assumption she hit the nail squarely on the head and Beth was confessing she had been obsessing about it rather than nixing the idea, Talia pressed harder. "I have a little black book as thick as War & Peace if you want a more traditional set up." Well, technically speaking, she had a long list of numbers on her cellphone she kept for screening purposes, but y'know, semantics. "And believe me, every one of them will expect sex. But if you don't want to get naked with one of my cast-offs, I just want to state right here, for the record, I fully endorse your original plan to hire a male prostitute. It's your call. Either way, I've got your back."

Beth's gaze lifted from her glass for a couple of seconds. "It would have to be discreet... my work and my reputation... if they were tarnished in any way..."

"I can do discreet." The look of disbelief aimed her way suggested otherwise. "Hey, I've had rampant rabbit sex with some pretty high-profile guys. I could make a fortune if I was the kinda gal who kissed and told."

Another weak smile. "Saving it up for your memoir?"

"Depends how this photography thing pans out."

"You could sell the shares you own in your father's company if money is a problem." Beth switched to her accountant voice. "I hear they're selling at a premium these days."

Talia took another hit of wine as the waiter obediently appeared with three more glasses. "Wouldn't give my fucktard father the satisfaction."

"He's dead," Beth stated succinctly.

"Won't stop him rubbing it in when I meet him in hell. Quit changing the subject." She held out a hand, palm up and waggled her fingers. "Give me one of your business cards."

"Why?"

"So I can set you up with the guy in my building."

"I need to think about this for a while."

"You do that, we both know you'll talk yourself out of it."

Beth's half-assed protests continued. "I don't know anything about him."

"And he knows squat about you. That's kinda the point. You can be whoever you want with him in whatever position you like." She waggled her fingers again. "Card."

Beth blindly reached below the table for her bland briefcase. "What if he has a disease or won't use protection?"

"A guy who can afford to live where he does didn't make his money sharing gonorrhea or handing over thousands a month in child support to numerous baby mommas."

Talia might be vehemently averse to touching a single cent of the inheritance left by her father but the trust-fund her mother set up took a big hit when she closed on her apartment. It was worth it for the river views and long-term security it provided but it was a shoebox compared to what rumor had it was being sublet on the top floor. There was even a special keypad code for the elevator to get there. VIP guests only. And every one of them she encountered doing the so-called walk of shame in the early hours of the morning was female, ruffled and wore a very satisfied smile.

"You want references?"

The white-knuckled grip Beth had on her business card eased a little. "Do you think that would be possible? If I could speak to some of the other women -"

"Shut up." Talia laughed. Seriously, what planet did she live on? "If you could call his customers for a little chat about the services he provides, he'd be in Ryker's by now. And it would hardly be much of an ad for discretion, would it?"

When Beth's face fell Talia employed the same tactic she'd used on Callie, only this time, she opted for common sense instead of romance. Never let it be said she didn't know her audience. "Look, I'll check him out face-to-face, Okay? You know I have incredibly high standards. If he looks the least bit greasy or sleazy or acts like a dick, we'll take your business elsewhere."

"You won't give him my card until after you check him out?"

"Opportunity of a lifetime, staring you right in the face here. Trust me. I've got this. Card."

"It would help if he was good looking..."

"Goes without saying..."

"And has that... vibe..."

Talia took it she had a 'yes' and snatched the card from Beth's loosened fingers. "I can spot that a mile off."

"What if I don't like him?"

"Meet somewhere public with lots of people and making a quick getaway shouldn't be a problem."

"You make it all sound terribly easy."

"It's no different than any blind date." Talia bobbed her head from side-to-side before she was forced to amend the statement. "Barring the paying him for sex part."

Beth leaned in and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "How do I go about doing that? Should I bring cash or do you think he takes a card?"

An unladylike snort of derision was Talia's initial response. "I doubt he carries around one of those machines in his back pocket."

"How much do you think it will be?"

"How the fuck would I know? Take what you're prepared to pay with you and work your way round to it over coffee. If it's more and you think he's worth it, you can stop at an ATM. If he's a high-class operator, he'll know how to bring up the subject." She winked. "Presumably before he gets it up."

Beth stared at her for an interminably long moment.

"What?" Talia demanded when she couldn't take any more.

"I can't believe I'm placing my fate in your hands. People just don't do this. My family would be outraged."

"Your family isn't here. And it's not like you're gonna put it in an update on your Facebook page." Sensing how close they might be to a breakthrough, Talia spooned a little honey into her voice. "You came to New York for a reason. This is the city where people take chances and grab what they want. Big risks for big gains. So, if you want to fulfill your part in the pact, this is where you start." She leaned back. "None of us are gonna judge you. Course, if you want to chicken out and be a timid little church mouse for the rest of your days..."

"I'm not a church mouse," Beth stated with a pathetic attempt at determination. "Sorry, I mean, at least, I don't want people to see me that way."

"Then make this the year of the tiger."

"Mess this up and it might take a very long time for me to forgive you."

Wow, girl knew how to hand out a threat. "You can thank me for the multiple orgasms later."

Obviously sensing she'd lost the argument, Beth lifted her chin a quarter inch and retaliated with, "So, about these divorce papers..."

"I'm signing them, Okay?"

"When?"

"Soon."

"How soon?"

"This week. Next at the latest."

"There's not a problem with you signing them, is there?"

Talia shot her a glare which should have made it plain she needed to back the fuck off. "Maybe I've decided he's earned a little going away present before I do."

Beth looked outraged. "You can't hand him divorce papers right after you sleep with him."

"Should I Fed-Ex them to him the morning after?"

"Talia," Beth said with some of Avery's irritating Zen-like calm. "If you care about him, even a little, you have to talk to him. You owe him that. He deserves closure."

Oh, good. A lecture. Just what she needed to round off her day. And coming from someone who knew zippidy-do-da about relationships made it twice as much fun. "A divorce will give him all the closure he needs."

"He runs your father's company," Beth pointed out. "Won't that be awkward when you're divorced?"

"Why would it? If he wants my shares, he can have them." She eyed up the row of full glasses sitting beside Beth's elbow. Fuck her mid-week rule. "Are you gonna drink those?"

Beth pushed one over. "Has he asked for the shares?"

"No." She snagged the olive off the cocktail stick and chewed while scowling across the room.

"But he has your proxy..."

"Hasn't asked for that, either."

"Oh... it's just..." Beth retreated when Talia shot her a sharper glare, her palms held up in front of her body in surrender. "Sorry... never mind... forget I said anything..."

Too late. "Spit it out."

"Well, it's just, I've heard some rumors..."

"Rumors about what?"

Beth grimaced. "A hostile takeover. Bradshaw Media used to do all of their advertising with T.M.A.C., but according to Brian, the head of our ad department, they're shopping around until they see what happens there."

It was news to Talia. Of course, she knew about Bradshaw Media's connection to her father's company when she worked at In & Out. It was a bone of contention at the time. But if she eliminated every possible employer on the island of Manhattan based on their connection to The Morales Advertising Company, the pickings got slim. In the end, she decided she'd wasted enough time rearranging her life around good old dad. It wasn't like he would help, even if she groveled. He was more likely to drop none-too-subtle hints to a prospective employer about not hiring her.

He could be a sonofabitch in numerous ways.

But so damn what if she didn't discuss business with Aaron? The company was his baby, not hers. Still, if he was under pressure in work, shouldn't she have noticed? She couldn't remember him being tired or blowing her off or seeming more tense than usual. Okay, so the sex had been a little more urgent recently. She put that down to the fact they both knew what they had was coming to an end. But what if it wasn't?

And now there was acid in her mouth again.

See? This was a prime example of why she should never have married him. She was more concerned with her own problems than his. Selfish? Yes. She wasn't going to apologize for that. If there was one thing she learned the hard way, it was everyone had to deal with their own shit before it became someone else's problem.

That was the thoughtful and considerate thing to do.

"You didn't know," Beth surmised.

"Whatever's going on, Aaron can handle it."

"You don't think maybe the divorce requires a gentler approach? If the timing isn't great..."

Oh, hell no. It had been delayed long enough. If she was culpable of a crime, it was not signing the papers the day he tossed them at her. Talia was under no illusion she could be a vicious bitch when they argued. When it came to hitting where it hurt she learned where to aim from an expert marksman. And Aaron was no angel when he fought back. A lot of the stuff he threw at her left a mark. It was a big part of why she knew from the start they didn't have a future together. There'd been too many times when it felt he was close to discovering who she was or rather, used to be.

Something Talia didn't want to be reminded of ever again.

"Sorry," Beth's voice softened. "I shouldn't have said anything. Would you like another drink?"

Since the waiters looked busy and Beth was too polite to flag one down, Talia took it as her cue to leave.

"Early start." She sought her wallet amidst the chaos inside her Marc Jacobs satchel. "I've got a session with some jumped up tabloid B-lister and her designer label dog in the morning. If I don't get enough sleep and the little darling shits on my studio floor, she'll have to have it measured for a designer body cast."

Beth reached out to lay a small hand on Talia's forearm after she'd tossed a handful of cash on the table and stood up. It wavered in the air for a moment, as if afraid to make contact and when Talia arched a brow, she dropped it to her side. "Have I upset you? If I have, I'm really -"

Christ. If she apologized. One. More. Time. "If you're worried I won't set you up now, forget it. A deal's a deal. I'm totally doing it and he's totally doing you."

The flush of color staining Beth's cheeks made it all the way down to the neckline of her white shirt. "I'm not. Worried, I mean. At least... not about me..."

Talia shook her head. "You want to worry about something it should be what you'll wear to that hot hook-up." Her gaze skimmed over Beth from head to toe. "You go dressed like that, he'll think you want him to check out a book."

"I'll buy something new."

Most women relished the thought of a shopping trip. Beth made it sound like she was going in for root canal.

"Whatever you buy I need to approve," Talia stated flatly as her gaze returned to the top of Beth's head. "And do something with that hair. Highlights or whatever it takes to make it look less like mud would be good. In fact, forget that. I know someone. I'll give him a call and get you booked in. He'll know what to do. Now I think of it, I know a personal shopper, too. I'll get him to rustle up a selection."

"You're doing a sterling job of making me feel better about this," Beth frowned.

If she was, they were even on the whole Aaron/divorce papers thing. "You're welcome. I gotta bounce. Talk soon."

While waiting impatiently on the sidewalk for a cab to appear, Talia simmered to slow boil. It was too late to start playing the role of Aaron's agony aunt. Not that she had the patience for it, anyway. But she did owe him one for taking on the company. Thanks to him she hadn't had to spare the damn thing a single thought after her father died.

Okay, fine. She'd go to the stupid benefit, wear the splendiferous dress he bought and play whatever fantasy role he desired for the evening.

But when it was over, their marriage was, too.

CHAPTER FIVE

Thanks to her work schedule, the day of the benefit bore down on Talia faster than a runaway train. It played on her mind to the point where she could almost hear the clackety-clack of the tracks and the blare of a warning siren. It felt like she was tied to those tracks, waiting for disaster to strike, with no escape in sight.

Adopting the role of damsel in distress was pointless.

Girl could die in numerous ugly ways if she waited to be rescued in Manhattan.

She woke with the sun and, in the absence of anything else to do, cleaned her apartment from top to bottom. By eight thirty she regretted not being a regular gym attendee or taking up a sport. Jogging would have passed another hour, so would some Zumba. Then again, coffee would be better. The kind that always tasted better in a cardboard cup with a logo on the side. And since getting it involved a walk to the corner store, she was, technically speaking, exercising.

Oh, yeah. And she had a parcel to return, too. Lingerie that made her tits look like they were about to pop out and not in a remotely sexy way. She could tick that off her list while she was out and crown herself queen of multi-tasking.

When the elevator doors slid open, she found herself face-to-face with another woman. Despite her bleached blonde hair, she was in pretty good shape for her age, which Talia guessed was in the region of late forties/early fifties. Pale band around her ring finger which screamed recently divorced after a marriage which lasted way longer than Talia's. Earrings and a bracelet that, if they were real diamonds, advertised the fact she could pay for whatever she wanted. Leaning against the mirrors at the back of the cubicle, strappy heels dangling from the fingers of one hand, looking rumpled in a way which suggested good times had been had and wearing the kind of lazy, satisfied smile which screamed recent orgasm, her presence couldn't have been more fortuitous.

"Hi," Talia opened cheerily. "Great morning."

"Wouldn't know," the woman replied. "Haven't seen it, yet." Her smile grew. "Late night."

"Gotta love those."

"Right?" Her enthusiasm grew. "Can't tell you the last time I went clubbing. Isn't much opportunity where I come from and most women my age are too busy gardening or looking after their grandkids to even think of a wild weekend away. Must admit, I was a bit nervous about it. But my escort for the evening was so..."

Talia blinked as the woman sighed happily. Way more information than she'd needed, but still...

"Scale of one to ten?" she inquired encouragingly.

"Oh, definitely a twelve." The woman leaned a little closer and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Younger men have so much stamina. My ex would have had a heart attack after the first hour."

"Start of something special?" Talia pushed, just be certain she was on the right track.

"Heavens, no. It's not like that. I'm in town for business. Friends of mine here who have employed his services..." She seemed to think twice about how much to share. "Well, they know him and set it up. Said it was just what I needed after the divorce. And they were right. Can't remember the last time I had so much fun. I feel twenty years younger. Don't get me wrong, I might call him the next time I'm here. But he's a good time, nothing more."

Talia sent a silent thankyou skywards in appreciation of trusting out-of-towners. "We all need a little stress relief from time to time."

"Absolutely."

"And if we have to invest some of our savings in a trip to get it..." Talia smiled and whispered back. "It's not like anyone needs to know what we've been doing..."

"Exactly my thoughts." The woman winked. "And his rates are very reasonable."

Having confirmed what she already knew, Talia blinked innocently, adopting a thought-just-occurred-to-me look for good measure. "Wait. You've just come down from the penthouse. Silly me. You could help me out." She held up the parcel she was carrying, careful to keep the address facing towards her as she rolled her eyes. "Concierge got our parcels mixed up. I was going to drop it downstairs but I could take it up there and get mine at the same time if you know the code."

Twelve minutes later, Talia was stood outside the penthouse door, frowning. She pressed the buzzer again. What was taking so long? Okay, so the square footage rumor was obviously true. There wasn't another door up here, which meant the penthouse took up the whole floor. But even so, it shouldn't take that long to walk across it. Not if the guy had stamina.

Maybe he was in his steam room or taking a shower in a cubicle big enough for a football team or sleeping off his exertions in a soundproof panic room. She tapped her toe and pressed the buzzer again. Then she checked the clock on the screen of her cellphone. She didn't have time for this. She'd try again later. Probably best she had Beth's card with her, anyway. Which she currently didn't.

Coffee and a bagel. Parcel sent. Emails answered. Work booked for the next eight weeks. Phone calls to confirm next week's clients. Nails done. And at lunchtime, with Beth's card in hand, she was back in front of the penthouse door again.

It took two presses of the buzzer with a three-minute interval in between. And yay, success this time. But the guy who opened it didn't look like she'd expected.

She studied him from head-to-toe with a critical eye. The tall, dark and handsome boxes were ticked. In good shape, too. Though she suspected Beth might find the tattoos displayed on his muscular arms a little off-putting. Immaculately white T-Shirt, clean pressed jeans, equally pristine navy sneakers. All good, nothing to criticize there. He just didn't look very gigolo-y.

In fact, if anything, he looked like a normal guy.

Okay, she took that back. Not normal as in any guy you might pass on the street. He had an edge to him that was palpable. Everything from the dark glare he was aiming at her to the rigidness of his stance suggested messing with him could prove fatal. He most definitely had the prerequisite vibe. It positively oozed from every cell of his large body and if she breathed deep, Talia knew instinctively the air would be laced with high-octane testosterone.

Could meek little Beth handle what he dished out?

That was the question.

She shrugged dismissively. What the hell. If chatty Kathy from out of town could take a heavy session of bad boy and survive unscathed, Beth would be fine. And that this guy could do her six ways to Sunday was kinda the point.

"You'll do." She thrust a hand towards him. "Talia Morales. I live five floors down." When he continued glaring at her, she dropped her arm to her side. "Anyhoo. My friend Beth wants to meet you." She raised her other arm. "This is her card. Contact info's on there."

There was a brief pause before he took the card, looked at it and then back at her face.

Talia waited. No comment? Okay, then. Warning time. "Like I said, I live five floors down. And she's my friend. So, if she's not grinning from ear-to-ear the next time I see her, I'll be back. You savvy?"

Still nothing. Not so much as a flicker of his dense eyelashes.

Guy was seriously controlled.

Probably a useful attribute in his line of work.

"Good talk," she concluded sarcastically before treating him to a finger wave. "Laters."

He closed the penthouse door before she pressed the button to recall the elevator and while she waited for it to arrive, she tried to picture him in a nightclub, having fun. Something didn't fit and for a second, she felt a little uneasy. Then she thought about all that dark, brooding intensity focused on a woman in the bedroom and shrugged it off. If he only switched on the charm for paying customers, that was up to him. He knew his business better than she did. And considering he couldn't have had much sleep after a hard night of work, she could allow him a little leeway.

When the elevator finally arrived, she checked the time on her phone again. Quarter past one. She folded her arms and drummed her fingers against her sleeve as she watched the numbers above the doors count down. Now she'd set Beth up, what was she going to do to fill the rest of her day?

She had to do something.

Waiting for that damn train to arrive was torturous.

Hair. Makeup. Waxing. She could put some prep work in for the seduction scene she had planned. She raised her phone again. Justin, her trusted beautician friend would take her on short notice. He always did. And while she was there, sipping champagne and being pampered to within an inch of her life, she could book Beth in for a transformation.

It wasn't that she was anxious about what she was going to do or having second thoughts. And it wasn't that she was worried about how Aaron would react when he realized what she'd done. It was just that she needed to keep busy, keep moving, look forwards, not back. It was a practice which carried her through the darkness to brighter, fun filled days.

She hoped there was some fun involved in whatever Aaron had planned, fantasy-wise. Then she wondered where he was and what he was doing. A small burst of laughter left her lips. Yeah, cos starting to think like that now was terrific timing. And she didn't need to wonder. If she was still interested, she could ask when she saw him. In seven hours and fifteen minutes. Possibly sooner, if she made him come get her.

Was it crass to make him do that on the night she dumped him? Probably. So, she nixed that idea. And she did so like to make an entrance...

CHAPTER SIX

The Plaza Hotel lived up to its iconic landmark reputation for style and elegance. Huge bouquets of scented flowers, twinkling fairy lights, glistening crystal champagne flutes, a string quartet playing soft music and awe-inspiring views of the city set against a backdrop of black velvet sky over Central Park. It was the perfect setting for romance.

Granted, it would have been better if they were alone but who didn't love the part when Cinderella appeared and stole the prince's heart? Though if Aaron were to refer to Talia as Cinderella to her face, it was pretty much guaranteed he'd get a glass slipper shoved up his ass.

He glanced down. His palms were sweaty.

After rubbing them surreptitiously against the legs of his fancy pants, he rescued one of the champagne flutes off a passing tray. He could really do with a double shot of bourbon. But he wasn't nervous. If he had to describe his emotional state, he'd say he swayed closer to excited. He even had butterflies flapping their little wings in his stomach.

According to the brief text she fired his way, Talia was typically tardy, but due soon. As a result, his eyes were constantly drawn in the direction of the double doors in anticipation. When they opened, his heartbeat stammered. But it was just another well-dressed couple, the silver-haired man a client he should probably talk to at some point if his mind was focused on business.

"You look like a guy who's been stood up at prom."

Aaron cast a dry glance at the woman who appeared at his side. Without checking, he knew she had to be wearing six-inch heels. She was literally able to look him straight in the eye.

"I haven't been stood up."

"We'll see," Mickey said with a smile. She looked him over from head-to-toe. "Did you dress in a hurry?"

Aaron took offence. He happened to think he looked good in this get-up. Dress suits had never been his thing - he was more of a jeans and cotton shirt kinda guy - but he spent an outrageous amount of money looking the part of the high rolling ad exec. He was in great shape, too. Somewhat miraculously, considering his schedule, he made time to work out every day. He ate right, for the most part. He even moisturized after he shaved. He was a well-rounded metro male, or whatever the fuck it was they were called these days.

"I look great and we both know it."

Smelled good, too, thanks to free samples of one of the expensive colognes they advertised.

"The hair doesn't help. Do you even own a comb?"

He waggled his fingers at her. "I have these."

Mickey rolled her eyes and took the champagne flute from him. "And I have this." She replaced it with a heavy tumbler of familiar amber liquid. "You look like you need it."

"Thanks," Aaron smiled.

"I know, you'd be lost without me." She set the champagne flute on another floating tray. "Lansing and McCallum are here, so you should go schmooze with them at some point. Lansing is here with his new squeeze, so don't call her Mrs. Lansing like you did with the last one."

"Who's McCallum with?"

"He's flying solo. His wife had a baby last month. A boy. They called him Luke. You sent flowers to mom, a cigar to dad and a little baseball outfit with mini catcher's mitt for the kid. McCallum is a long-time Yankee's fan."

"That was thoughtful of me."

"Yeah, try not to look surprised when he mentions it."

Movement by the doors drew Aaron's gaze to them. A tall man entered the room and claimed a space like he owned it. He looked like a poster-boy for Armani, his immaculately cut dinner suit accessorized with designer stubble and sleek, glossy, black hair. He glanced imperiously over the crowd, then targeted Aaron, his dark eyed gaze colder than the glass in Aaron's hand. It felt personal. Like Aaron had keyed his Lamborghini or stolen his Rolex and the guy had a score to settle. Put him in a long coat and a black Stetson and Aaron could picture himself being challenged to a shoot-out at high noon. There was something familiar about him, a whisper at the back of Aaron's mind which said he should know who he was...

He was about to ask Mickey when her head turned. "Shit."

"What?"

"That's him."

"Him, who?"

"Him."

The penny dropped. Shit, indeed. "How'd he get in?"

"Tickets are a thousand bucks a pop. They don't care who pays it and it's not like he doesn't have the pocket change."

Aaron's hackles were up and it took considerable effort not to growl. The only thing stopping him from making a run across the room and pouncing on the guy was a firm grip on his arm.

"Easy, cowboy," Mickey warned as she looked around. "We need to circle the wagons."

She was right. It wasn't the time or the place. All their top clients, not to mention every member of the board, were in the room. But with only two of them to run interference, how were they going to keep the sonofabitch distracted while -

"I've got this," Mickey said, smoothing her palms over the front of her dress as Aaron looked at her.

It drew his attention to what she was wearing. She'd gone full-on vamp for the occasion, her curves poured into a deep midnight blue satin, halter-neck dress that matched her hair. Rita Hayworth had nothing on Mickey as she squared her shoulders, licked her lips, pinned a cat-that-saw-a-mouse smile on her face and sashayed across the room. If it had been anyone else, Aaron would have felt sorry for the guy.

His gaze scanned the rest of the room, swiftly identifying the positions of all the major players in the crowd. Circle the wagons, she'd said. Just how the hell was he supposed to do that without drawing attention to the problem?

He didn't want to look scared.

Then the doors opened, Cinderella walked in and the world stopped turning. Damn, she was beautiful.

She was wearing the dress he bought, her hair smoothed back from her face and drawn into an elaborate concoction of curls at the nape of her neck. Her make-up was immaculate, her eyes framed by long, darkened lashes with a rich cerise lipstick shimmering on her lips, lips which curved into a smile which made her eyes sparkle like black diamonds when she found him.

An invisible thread drew them together, everything around them fading into a multi-colored blur. For a moment, there was no-one on the entire planet but them.

"Hello, handsome."

Hot damn. Two words in that low, husky tone and his blood rushed south of the border so fast it made his head spin.

He had to clear his throat to reply. "Hey, there."

Yup, smooth talker of the year. That was him.

"Nice duds." She reached out and smoothed the lapel of his jacket between her thumb and forefinger, blinking her lashes flirtatiously as she looked up at him. "That's the correct terminology in your part of the world, right?"

Aaron nodded, his hand rising from his side so he could place his palm on the inward curve of her waist and slide it around to the small of her back. "Nice dress. You like it?"

There was a minuscule pause before she replied, "Yes."

"You look stunning in it."

"I know." No hesitation this time.

He took a half step forwards and lowered his head towards hers, her chin rising at the same time until their mouths were close enough for him to feel her breath on his skin.

A split second before they kissed, she turned her cheek, smoothed it against his and whispered in his ear. "Wanna go somewhere more private and help me take it off?"

His cock leapt to attention. It was obvious what his little brain thought of that idea. But his big brain nudged some semblance of sense into his desire fogged mind.

"Later," he promised. "I want tonight to be about -"

Talia suddenly leaned back, her posture becoming stiffer. "Michaela, how lovely to see you."

"Mrs. Rudeski. Nice of you to show. Sorry we couldn't get the fanfare organized for your arrival."

Aaron sucked in a long breath as he stood tall. The battle between the two women in his life was tiring at the best of times. And if Mickey was over here to update him on the predator in their midst while he was with Talia, he was going to have to shut her down, fast.

Then he glanced sideways and realized she wasn't alone.

Mickey shot him a silent warning as he drew Talia closer to his side. "Aaron, Talia, this is -"

"Ricardo Valdez," the man supplied with a slick smile as he extended a large hand towards Talia. "You can call me Ric."

She could call him a paramedic if he kept looking at her like that. Aaron swiftly intercepted the proffered hand.

"Aaron Rudeski." He gripped with more force than necessary, irritated greatly by the fact the guy didn't flinch. "CEO of The Morales Advertising Company," which was as close to 'sheriff of this town' as he could get. "What brings you to our little shindig, Ric?"

The handshake strayed closer to an arm wrestle as the bastard added pressure of his own, both sets of knuckles turning white. "Oh, you know how it is Aaron. A little business, a little pleasure." His focus stayed fixed on Talia as he added in a deep, subtly accented voice, "It is not just the beautiful women among us who can multi-task."

From his peripheral vision, Aaron could see Talia glance from man to man, then down at their hands before she looked at her husband again. "Am I missing something, here?"

"Just an overdose of testosterone," Mickey supplied as she gripped their wrists and pried their hands apart. "Now, play nice boys. We don't want all these lovely people getting their fancy clothes splattered with blood. Be a bitch for all those underpaid maids to get the stains out."

"Your personal assistant was quite the find, Aaron," Valdez commented as he switched his attention to her. "Perhaps, I shall take her from you."

The intimation it would be along with everything else made Aaron's hand bunch into a fist at his side. Turned out he wasn't any happier with that suggestion than he was with the bastard eyeing up his wife.

"Good luck with that," he said dryly. "Mickey's family."

"Yes." Valdez's gaze switched back to Talia. "And there is nothing more important than family, is there?"

"Depends on the family," Talia replied with a dismissive shrug. "The Manson's weren't much fun."

Dark eyes narrowed a little. "You were not close to your father? I have been told he was a very great man."

"I've been told that a couple of thousand times, too."

Her response seemed to catch Valdez off-guard. His mask slipped for a second, revealing the predator beneath his smooth façade. It was back in place just as quick, but Aaron saw it and his hold on Talia tightened instinctively.

He wanted her a million miles away from this guy.

As if she'd read his mind, she turned towards him and placed a palm on his dress shirt, directly above his heart. "I'm parched. You wanna escort me to the bar, honey?"

Honey? That was new. But he'd take it.

"Sure thing, sugar. You coming, Mickey?"

"No." She grabbed hold of good-ole-Ric's arm and tugged hard. "I'm gonna let Mr. Personality here dance with me and see how much of a pay rise I'd get for jumping ship."

"Aim high," Aaron said, his tone suggesting she do the exact opposite.

She looked over her shoulder and winked as they walked away. Message received. "Always do."

"You want to tell me what that was about?" Talia inquired.

"No." And he wasn't circling the damn wagons, either.

It was cowardly and he trusted Mickey. Judging by the way she placed her new friend's arm around her waist and was leading him round the dance floor, there wasn't a hope in hell he was escaping anytime soon.

Wait a minute. Did he have his hand on her ass?

Why the hell was she letting it stay there?

There was a limit to what Aaron would let her do to keep the bastard occupied.

"You okay?"

The question drew his attention back to his wife. Was that concern in her eyes? He smiled and leaned in to place a light kiss on the corner of her mouth-a thank you for caring combined with a renewed promise of 'later'. "I'm fine. Come on, let's go get you that drink."

"Hallelujah."

Whether it was because she sensed he needed her support or his plan to woo her surrounded by a crowd so she couldn't make a scene was working, the following hour renewed Aaron's resolve to make the night all about them. He liked this Talia. He liked her a whole heap. She stayed glued to his side, the frequent light touches they exchanged igniting a slow burning flame which warmed him from the inside, out. Having people to meet and greet meant the anticipation for 'later' grew with each passing second and by the time they made it to the dance floor, he'd almost forgotten Valdez was there.

Their bodies moved with a fluid synchronicity which spoke volumes about how good they were in bed. With her close to him, his soul was at peace, contentment washing over him like soft summer rain. Barely halfway through it and the night was already everything Aaron had hoped it could be.

He smoothed his cheek against hers and murmured in her ear, "Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?"

"Not nearly enough."

"You're the most beautiful woman in the room."

"Not the city?"

He smiled and leaned back a little so he could see her face. "The world."

"Hmmm..." Her gaze searched the air above his head as she considered his response. "Better."

The smile she rewarded him with was a wondrous sight. In that moment, he had his Talia back, the one he'd fallen for one muddy weekend.

Where had she been all this time?

He raised a hand and skimmed the backs of his fingers over the soft skin of her jaw. "I've missed you," he stated as a prelude to the three more important words which hovered on the tip of his tongue.

Something flickered across her eyes before she responded with a low, "I've missed you, too."

Tread carefully, Aaron. The tough-as-nails Talia was still in there. He might have been handed a temporary reprieve, but if he tried to do a rush job fixing what was broken between them, she'd knee him in the nuts and bolt.

He changed the position of his hand to frame her face and angled his head, his gaze dropping to her mouth. "Kiss me."

If they were going to make their marriage work, she had to come to him.

The hand resting on his shoulder slid slowly upwards, cool fingers curling around the back of his neck. She raised her chin, leaned into him, pressed her breasts against his chest. They stopped swaying to the music, became a single sphere of blazing heat in the center of a universe of slow turning bodies. Then her lips fused with his, the air around them contracted and he exploded in a bright ball of light.

Standing still and allowing her to have her way with him was the hardest thing he'd ever done. He'd planned to seduce her, but like she had from the beginning, she was seducing him. She mapped every millimeter of his mouth like she was an explorer and he was an undiscovered country. He prayed she'd do the same thing with his body and cursed the fact 'later' wasn't now.

Then staying still wasn't possible anymore.

He had to kiss her back.

They made out for what felt like a lifetime and when they came up for air, he was intensely gratified to discover he wasn't the only one breathing like he'd just run a marathon.

"Take me home," she demanded roughly.

Aaron frowned. "You want to leave? Now?"

After that kiss? Was she fucking kidding him?

"Yes. With you. I need you inside me."

Oh. Hell. Yes. He needed that, too. More than air.

But his speech.

The one he'd written for her.

His public declaration of undying love.

With a slight turn of his head, his gaze tracked to the dais on the stage beside the string quartet. He was supposed to act as auctioneer for all the crap up there. Turn on the charm, flirt with women old enough to be his mother and crack bawdy jokes with the men to get them to open their wallets and prove they had a bigger wad than the next guy.

He was the compere. He couldn't leave.

Talia's hand moved from his neck to his chin so she could direct his attention back to her. "Over here, big guy. We can be there in ten minutes. You can be inside me five seconds later. I'm not wearing anything under this dress."

She wasn't? What? Ten minutes, she'd said. She was talking about his place? She'd called his place home!

If that meant what he thought it meant...

Fuck the auction. He disentangled their bodies, grabbed her hand and dragged her across the room like a caveman. There was no consideration given to the pace as she jogged behind him on her heels but judging by the throaty laughter he could hear, she didn't care.

The grin he tossed over his shoulder proved costly. In the process, he slammed into what felt like a brick wall.

Ricocheting back a step, he stalled Talia's forward progress in a similar manner, forcing him to take a second to make sure she didn't fall on her ass before he snapped his gaze in the direction of what he'd hit.

Valdez smiled slimily. The cockblocking serpent.

"Leaving so soon?"

Aaron was. This. Close. To hitting him.

Hardly the best career move. But if it came down to a choice between the company and his wife, there was no contest.

The figure heading towards them wearing a headset and carrying a clipboard was heaven sent.

Saved by the intern.

"Great. Jen. Just the gal I wanted to see." He beckoned her closer. "'Fraid we gotta go. Bit of an emergency." The young woman's eyes widened. "No, now. Don't you worry. Good ole Ric here," he reached out and none-too-gently punched Valdez in the arm, "has volunteered to step in. Right, Ric?"

Valdez scowled darkly as Aaron smirked. Guy wanted to sit at the top table so bad, he could pull up a chair. And whatever the charity-du-jour lost when he messed up the auction, Aaron silently vowed he would pay. It would be worth every cent. Even better, he'd get to toss the amount in the bastard's face the next time they met.

And there would be a next time.

He didn't doubt that.

"I -"

It was as far as Aaron let him get. "Great. Have fun. Can't wait to hear all about it. Bye folks."

There was amusement in Talia's voice as they exited the double doors and entered a wide hall. "Well, that wasn't polite. Who are you and what have you done with my husband?"

She called him, her husband. In public.

Was it the first time she'd done that?

It felt like it was.

And man did it make him possessive.

He stopped dead in his tracks, yanked on her arm and pushed her up against a paneled wall, pinning her in place with his body before he slammed his mouth down on hers. The kiss was a million miles away from the one they shared on the dance floor. Where it was soft, this was hard. Where it was gentle, this was rough. There was no sweetness involved. It was demanding and devouring and stripped away everything that made Aaron who he was, leaving only raw, desperate need.

Wrenching their mouths apart, he speared her with his gaze. "Changed your mind about going home with me?"

She damped her swollen lips with the tip of her tongue and looked up at him from beneath heavy lashes. "No."

"Good."

CHAPTER SEVEN

The romance pervading the air at the benefit had been cloying. But Talia liked to think she'd played her part in Aaron's little fantasy to award winning standards, even it proved to be a stark reminder she wasn't, and never could be, the right woman for him. The kind of woman who liked being romanced. A woman who would dedicate herself to him, put his needs ahead of her own and be there for him in troubled times, who would bask in the attention he showered on her in return and blossom into a better version of herself.

That wasn't her.

If she was honest, Talia would say Mickey was better suited to that role. Unfortunately, if she stepped into it, Talia knew she would have to deal with the territorialism she felt every time bargain basement Mae West was around.

But Aaron with another woman was the last thing on her mind when they made it across town to his apartment. He was as desperate for her as she was for him and if this was their last time together, she was determined they were going out with one hell of a bang. They'd almost had sex in the cab on the way over.

Now they barely made it through the door.

"Condom," he muttered against her lips as he backed her into another wall. "Wallet."

"I got it covered," she muttered back while she unbuckled his belt and loosened his waistband.

It was something they'd never done before, despite the fact she was on the pill. Better to be safe than sorry, she believed, not that she had any doubts when it came to disease. The use of condoms was a short conversation they had at the start of their relationship. They'd never not used them since they became sexually active. Probably just as well, too. She'd messed up that stupid little tablet a couple of times when she was busy. And even if she wasn't 99.9% certain she made up for it before playing the equivalent of Russian roulette with his sperm, if Aaron hadn't worn a condom...

A shudder ran down her spine. One he misinterpreted.

He hesitated. "You sure?"

Talia slid a hand into his pants and wrapped her fingers around his cock, smoothing soft, heated skin over what felt like a rigid rod of iron. "I'm sure."

An uncharacteristically sentimental move on her part. But it was a parting gift she wanted to give him. And judging by his reaction, it was a good call. Turned out, the mere suggestion of riding her bareback was enough to drive the cowboy crazy. He fused his mouth with hers, pushed his pants out of the way and went to work on gathering up her skirts. There was a deep, rumble of approval as his fingers discovered moisture on the inside of her thighs. Then he hoisted her up the wall, forcing her to release his cock and grab hold of his shoulders before she teased him by slicking his hard length along the seam of her pussy a couple of times.

"Fuck," he rasped viciously as he wrenched his mouth free and rested his forehead against hers, obviously fighting to hold on to some semblance of control.

Talia smiled salaciously. "Yes, please."

"I'd planned to go slow."

"It's overrated."

"Not gonna last long this way." He frowned hard as he fitted the head of his cock to her opening.

"Then you better fuck me fast," she replied.

It was all the conversation they managed before he pushed inside her, allowing her body a split second to adjust to the intrusion before he thrust home. Despite her wetness, there was a small element of discomfort the first time he retreated and slammed back in. But Talia relished it, sought out his mouth and demanded more with a devouring kiss. She wanted it rough, for him to leave bruises that would take days to fade so she was marked by the occasion.

This she would miss.

He'd always known exactly how to give it to her. He fucked her like a machine, his cock a piston driving into her over and over and over, each inward thrust grinding his pelvic bone into her clit, which throbbed as a precursor to her orgasm. Yes. She was so close. Just a little more. Then he bent his knees, hammered into her with enough force to make her body feel like it left a Talia shaped imprint in the wall, stilled and groaned. She'd thought it was a myth. But she felt him come inside her. The heat of it, the surge of moisture, the sensation he'd filled an empty space she didn't know she had and left part of himself there.

It was a new sensation, something she hadn't experienced before. She wasn't sure she liked it. Okay, some of it she did. She was the woman who made him come that hard. She was so damn irresistible, he had to have her then and there and what he gave her, she'd taken from him. It was hers now. Forever. A gift he could never take back. It made her feel empowered, like no matter how long it was before she had sex again, it would sustain her.

Wasn't there a name for creatures of the night which sucked some of the life out of a guy during sex?

Succubus. That was it. She was one of those.

And she didn't feel guilty about it, at all.

He buried his face in her shoulder, his breathing ragged against her heated skin. Then he lifted his head and blinked her into focus. "You didn't come."

"It's okay," she lied.

"The hell it is."

If she was less selfish, she might have argued with him. Instead, she gave him the time he needed to withdraw, kick off his shoes and step out of his pants before allowing him to take her hand and lead her down the hall.

As she followed him, she smiled at the tempting glimpses she got of taut, perfectly toned male ass. "Nice view."

He grinned over his shoulder. "Not as nice as the one I'll be looking at a few minutes from now."

They walked into his bedroom, a distinctly male abode decorated in charcoals and creams with hints of mauve to add warmth. Avery, the interior designer, would approve. Where Talia's apartment was an eclectic mix of brash color and mismatched furniture and the kind of patterns which could bring on a migraine, Aaron's apartment was modern, chic and understated.

More evidence of why they were a bad fit.

He positioned her at the end of the bed, tossed his jacket and shirt aside and stepped behind her to unfasten her dress, the backs of his long fingers brushing against her spine as each fragile button came undone. As he brushed his lips against the sensitive skin below her ear, Talia sucked in a long, deep breath and closed her eyes. They were playing his fantasy again, she could feel it in the reverence of his touch. When he raised his head, she kept her eyes closed and mentally crossed her fingers, hoping he wouldn't add sentimentality to the charade.

"Your hair looks complicated. How do I get it down?"

Okay, that she could handle. "I'll do it."

Lifting her hands made the front of her dress drop down and she heard the appreciative smile in Aaron's deep voice.

"That's helpful."

He slid his hands inside the material, tracing the curve from her waist to her hips so the dress dropped the rest of the way. Without opening her eyes, she could tell he was totally absorbed in what he was doing, his focus on her. But as she carefully toed off her fabulous Manolo's, removed the large, jeweled clip from her hair and shook the curls loose, Talia felt detached. Like she was in the middle of some weird out-of-body experience.

She opened her eyes and looked straight ahead.

In front of them was a long mirror that provided a frame for the erotic image they created. In it, more reminders of their differences caught her attention. The tousled blonde hair next to sleek dark tresses as he bowed his head next to hers. The lightly tanned skin on his arms as they circled her body and his hands cupped her dusky breasts. The hint of sunshine in his bright, sky blue eyes as they met her steady, dark eyed gaze in the reflection.

"Never a camera around when you need one..." he said roughly.

"Best way to keep things off the Internet."

When she tried to turn around and engage physically in what they were doing, he moved an arm to her waist to stop her and whispered in her ear, "No. Keep watching."

Obeying his command was rewarded by the movement of his hands, one massaging a heavy breast, fingers toying with her nipple as the other slid down between her legs. Without being asked, she set her feet a little further apart to aid him, her head dropping back to rest on his shoulder as she both felt and watched his fingers slip into the juncture of her thighs and trace small circles in the moisture he found there.

"Some of this is me."

It had been. But it was hers now.

"How close are you?"

Not as close as she'd been a couple of minutes ago. But still, "It won't take much."

The light movement of his fingertip over her clit proved the point, making her body jerk and her knees weaken.

"Remind me," he angled his head a little, adopting a look of curiosity. "What's our current score? "

Despite the slow torture he inflicted with his fingers - the one between her legs dipping, then circling, then sliding, getting close to but never giving her what she needed - Talia smiled. It was a challenge they'd both taken seriously for a while, particularly on their brief honeymoon.

"Four, three, to you. But only cos you couldn't get it up the fourth time."

"You wore me out. We didn't sleep much that night."

"Score would have been even if you hadn't tied me up and got creative."

He smiled wistfully at the memory. "I remember the first time I made you come. How hard it was for you to stay quiet."

One long finger pushed inside her, hooking upward to stroke a sweet spot which made her squirm. "We were in a tent. If I'd screamed the way I wanted to, you could forget the campground. They would have heard me in the next state."

"You almost drew blood when you bit my shoulder." He nipped her neck and ran the tip of his tongue over her skin. "Pretty sure I still have a scar..."

Talia felt his cock stir against her butt. "You'll have a lot more of them if you don't finish me off."

"No 'please' this time?"

"Aaron, I swear -" The warning edge to her tone was enough. He set the pad of his thumb against her clitoris and added pressure as he continued sliding his finger in and out.

"Oh, yeah," she moaned. "That's it. Right there."

The orgasm was sharp, thanks in part to the rough way he'd taken her in the hall. Unfortunately, due to their position, it was also bitter-sweetly short and left her feeling unsatisfied. Which in turn, pissed her off.

They weren't ending that way. The bang wasn't anywhere close to big enough.

The second he eased his finger out, she turned and launched herself at him, unbalancing him and tumbling them onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. Talia took top position and Aaron chuckled as she looked down at him, the vibration in his body grazing his chest hair against her sensitive nipples.

"Laugh it up while you can." She leaned on her elbows to free her hands so she could swipe the tangled hair out of her eyes. "The score is one all. And I'm predicting a much bigger margin of success for me this time."

Aaron threw his arms out to his sides. "Have at it, sugar. I'm all yours. Always have been, always will."

The last part made her stomach roil. But if surrendering to her so she could have her wicked way with him was part of his fantasy, his wish was about to come true.

She was going to have him every which way there was.

It would be a legendary goodbye.

Easing to one side, she ran her gaze over his naked body like he was a platter of delicious delicacies.

Where to begin?

Oh, yes. Down there. He'd need help with that if he was going to be any use to her. She glanced briefly at his face, licked her lips and moved into position. She knew what he liked, all the dirty little moves that drove him crazy and she was going to use every damn one of them, all in one night.

Starting with the best blow job of his life...

Much, much later, when Talia woke from a nap, she stretched her aching muscles and smiled lazily. Damn, she loved that feeling. There really was nothing better than great sex. Then she cracked an eye open, realized there was light shining through the curtains and froze.

Shit. It was morning. And she was still at his place.

Gingerly, she turned her head in his direction.

Still asleep. Thank her lucky stars.

The weight lying possessively across her stomach made her grimace. His arm. Shit again. How the hell had she let this happen? The morning after the night which had a truly epic swansong was the worst possible time to get cornered.

Claustrophobia kicked in. Big time.

What if he got the wrong idea and thought their night together had been a new beginning, not an end?

Shut up, Talia. He knew. He had to know. How could he not?

Either way, she didn't want to there when he woke up. If she was over-reacting, the conversation would be awkward as hell. What was she supposed to say, 'Thanks for all the orgasms, I'll see you around'? If she wasn't over-reacting, there would be a massive row. He'd act all betrayed and shit. They'd yell things at each other they could never take back. And if he made her feel guilty, she might have to kill him.

She had to escape.

Sucking in the quietest, shallowest breath possible, she gritted her teeth, pressed her body deep into the mattress and squeezed her way out from under his arm. The dead fish flop she made onto the floor was far from graceful. But thanks to the luxurious carpeting on the floor, it was quiet. Ignoring the fact that she was playing out a scene from one of the god-awful rom-com's Callie favored, she scooped up her dress and shoes and his shirt to cover up and tip-toed out of the room, Ninja style. She dressed in record-breaking time in the kitchen, listened for movement, then glanced around.

Purse. She'd had one, hadn't she? Did she bring it with her from the benefit or leave it in the cab? No. Wait. There it was. In the hall where she'd dropped it, the contents making it bulge at the sides, testing the clip. She had to travel light to fit the papers in there and it took several tugs and lots of silent swearing to get them back out. Unfolding them once, twice, and flattening the edges as best she could, she laid them on the kitchen counter beside the coffee maker where he was certain to find them.

As she looked at them, her stomach cramped hard, like she was developing an ulcer or something. She'd figured the signed papers said it all but if she could find a pen and something to write on, she could add a short note. Unfortunately, she found both, which meant she had to think of something to say. Words to go with the pictures she took had never been her thing. They were Aaron's. But taking a selfie of her waving bye-bye and sending it to him was low, even for her.

Think, girl.

When there was movement in the bedroom, she scribbled down the first thing that popped into her head, tossed the note down on top of the crumpled papers, tugged the rings off her finger, added them to the pile and fled.

It was only when she was seated in the back of a moving cab, after she'd aimed a death glare at the driver for looking her up and down with what translated as judgment in his eyes, she was able to breathe again. Not exactly the cleanest of getaways but it was done now.

It was over.

They didn't have to face each other and conduct an autopsy of their relationship. He could blame her for everything, call her names, hate her if that's what he needed to get over it.

She looked out the window and watched the city go by. It was barely past six but there were already people on the streets. Going somewhere, coming back from someplace, doing stuff, oblivious to anyone's problems but their own.

Life went on and so would she.

Just like she always did.

If it took longer for Aaron it was because he hated to lose at anything.

She discovered that the first time he captured her attention, on a shitty team building weekend which had been his dumb idea. At first, he'd been a stand-in for her father in her mind, put there specifically to test her mettle and do everything possible to break her. But somewhere along the way, his muddy face broke into a wide, gleaming grin and she experienced things which were denied to her since birth: Respect and approval. She couldn't remember what they'd been doing or why they ended up laughing until she couldn't breathe but in that moment, what sparked to life between them had nothing to do with anyone else. It was all about them.

Next thing she knew, they were getting naked in a tent. Instant, combustible, physical attraction and in the following months, they'd pretty much worked their way through the Karma Sutra. His fantasy or hers? She didn't know. Beyond the clandestine element of their relationship and while she reveled in the fact she was screwing her father's protégé like a porn star, her memories of that time were a little fuzzy. Then the twisted sonofabitch who'd made more than half her life a living hell, died before she could rub his nose in it and Aaron provided comfort while she mourned something she'd never had. The trip to Vegas was her idea. She'd needed to get away from all the people who were so nauseatingly sorry for her 'great loss'.

Getting married while they were there, was his idea. He needed her to know he was there for her and didn't plan on going anywhere. She'd figured, fuck it, why not, being married might be fun for a while. But the whole rest of their lives thing had most definitely been his fantasy. Not hers.

She simply got sucked too far down the rabbit-hole and this, right now, was her correcting that mistake. Better late than never...

The cramp in her stomach folded in on itself and formed a hard, unyielding rock the size of a boulder. Somewhat apt considering her heart turned to stone the same way long before she met him.

Some quality Talia time was obviously required. No guys. Not for a while, anyway. She could live vicariously through Beth's sex adventures with a male hooker, would get her stinking rotten drunk and relish every sordid detail. Maybe after that, she'd switch her attention to Avery. If the rest of her small circle of friends were happy, they might get the hell off her back. And then, when she felt like it, she'd go out and find a random stranger to fuck. Someone hot and uncomplicated who was only interested in one thing.

Her kind of guy. A guy who got her.

She wondered if Aaron was awake yet...

CHAPTER EIGHT

Aaron woke up alone.

At first, in the warm, squooshy space between sleep and consciousness, he thought Talia was taking a shower. But he couldn't hear running water in the bathroom. Then he figured she was in the kitchen, getting her fix of caffeine to start the day. But he couldn't smell roasted beans in the air. He sat up, almost knocked the alarm clock off his night stand, righted it, looked around and saw her dress was gone.

Had she run out on him again?

Nah, she couldn't have, not after they'd made such a momentous breakthrough.

As he lay back down, memories of the night before flooded his mind. Things got out of control in the hall and he still felt bad about that. But in the bedroom, there were equal amounts of give and take and before they fell asleep, they'd shared a real connection, a meeting of body and soul.

They didn't just have sex. They made sweet, sweet love.

She'd made him a very happy man.

As a result, when she snuggled into his arms, it was impossible not to say the words out loud. So, he whispered them to her in the dying light, told her how much she meant to him, promised they could work through their problems and swore he would be her rock and safe place until the day he died.

She hadn't argued with him. She hadn't interrupted him. She didn't do anything. For a split second, he even wondered if she'd heard him. Overcome by a sudden fear of losing her, he'd squeezed his arms a little tighter around her body and in response, she snuggled closer, sighed contentedly and he knew everything was going to be okay.

She wouldn't walk out on him after that.

She'd probably gone to get breakfast.

When his phone rang, it sounded very far away. He turned his head and cussed that it wasn't in its usual place on the night stand. Then he remembered he'd left it behind when he went to the benefit, his mind on other things.

Hauling himself out of bed, he grabbed the first clothes his hand hit in the drawer -sweatpants and a well-worn T-Shirt - and threw them on as he went to look for it. The ringing stopped. There was a brief pause. Then it started again. There it was. Under a cushion on the sofa. And Mickey's name was on the screen.

"What the hell happened to you last night?"

"Good morning to you, too." Aaron scrubbed a palm over his face and squinted at the kitchen. He needed coffee if she was going to yell at him. "You always this tetchy first thing?"

"This isn't tetchy. This is pissed. Thought you'd know that by now, being married to that bitch."

The venom dripping from her voice stopped him dead in his tracks. Whoa, there. Who rattled her cage? "I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that." Considering he threw her to the wolves the night before, he could give her a little wriggle room. But her venom should be aimed at him, not Talia. "It's not like she hog-tied me and dragged me screaming from the room."

"She doesn't have to hog-tie you. She already leads you around by the dick."

If she didn't tread carefully, she would soon discover pissed could be infectious. "How about we skip the tirade and go straight to the part where Valdez fell flat on his face and cost the charity thousands."

The thought cheered him up, no end.

"Yes, genius," she replied sarcastically. "That's what happened. He didn't charm the pants off everyone in the room or have them eating out of his hand in five minutes, flat. The men weren't ready to nominate him for President when he was done. And every woman in the room didn't want to screw him."

The question was out before he could stop it, "Did you?"

"Fuck you, Aaron."

Okay, he deserved that. The new trend for making digs at each other's sex lives had to stop. And since pointing out who'd started it probably wouldn't help...

"How big a mess are we talking?"

"In terms of your position at the company, it's a goddamn global catastrophe. When he left the stage, he circled the room like royalty."

"Where were you?"

"Ooooh," she laughed. "Don't you dare lay this at my door. A squad of Marines couldn't have kept his cult of worshippers at bay. He knew exactly what he was doing, who to talk to and what to say. Forget hostile takeovers. That man could negotiate for the United Nations and make mortal enemies think kissing and making up was all their idea."

Sounded a lot like Mickey...

Aaron sighed. "Okay, I get it. We have work to do."

"No," she argued. "You don't get it. You have no idea what's going on. When it comes to that woman, you're blind."

Now what was she talking about?

Aaron glanced longingly at the coffee maker and frowned when he noticed something else there. It drew him across the room, his body temperature plummeting and a cold sweat breaking out on his skin as Mickey's diatribe continued.

"I don't have proof yet but there's been something off about this from the start..."

Even if he hadn't recognized the creased paperwork or read the signature at the bottom, the rings resting on top of it would have been enough of a hint. His frown darkened with his mood. When did she sign it? Had he spooked her last night?

Why the fuck hadn't she said something if he did?

"What he's doing felt personal, so I went digging to see if he had a grudge against the company or you..."

She had to know he wouldn't give up without a fight.

"The fact he's Argentinian didn't help. I had to pull in favors left, right and center to get to someone who could do some digging down there..."

He couldn't lose her. Not now. "I've got to go."

"No, Aaron, wait." The phone was halfway from his ear when she yelled at him, "For fuck sake. This is important!"

Not as important as his relationship with Talia.

But the discovery of a scrawled note beneath the rings made him pause and lift the phone back to his ear as he read it.

"You still there?" Mickey asked.

"Yeah."

"I got an email this morning."

This isn't personal, the note began.

It sure as shit felt personal.

"It is personal. But it's not about you..."

It's not about you, the note continued. This is all on me. I'll own that.

"He wants to own the company because he considers it his."

You'll get over this.

"He probably never got over the fact he was left out of Morales's will."

I know you will. Just like I've always known marriage wasn't and never will be for me.

How the fuck could she know that? She'd never been married before. More importantly, she'd never been married to him.

Why was she doing this? Why now? She had the papers for months. Why wait? Why marry him in the first place?

"The most pertinent question is, does she know? And like I said, I don't have proof yet. But if I find out she did and she was part of this, I swear -"

Some of what Mickey was saying sank in. "What are you talking about?"

"Haven't you been listening?"

"Not really," he confessed. "I've been a little distracted by the whole 'my wife wants a divorce' thing."

"She wants a divorce now?"

The note of outrage in her voice was appreciated. Nice to know he wasn't the only one who felt that way.

"That can't be a coincidence."

Aaron was too wired to play read-between-the-lines. "Can we cut to the chase?"

"You sitting down?"

"Mickey."

"Valdez is her brother."

Denial was the first guest to arrive at the party. No, he would know if Talia had a brother. She'd have told him. He remembered she'd once mentioned her father would have preferred a boy. Course, Aaron argued that with her, but she was adamant. And if it was true, if Valdez was her brother, she didn't know. Her father must have kept his son hidden because he was the result of an extra-marital affair - he didn't look to be much older than Talia - or refused to claim the child as his. There hadn't been a hint of recognition on Talia's face when she met him at the benefit. But the niggle in the back of Aaron's mind made more sense now. It wasn't that he saw a younger version of his mentor there, it was how much Valdez resembled Talia. Same inky black hair, same dark eyes, a lot of the same attitude, come to think of it.

Doubt arrived next. Mickey was right about the timing of Talia's signature on the divorce papers. Even if it was coincidental, she'd made up her mind without talking to him. But the blame couldn't be laid entirely at Talia's door. If he'd believed in something that didn't exist, that was on him.

Betrayal reared its head. It cut deep, weakening his denial and strengthening his doubt. If Talia wanted her brother at the helm of the company, she didn't have to play Aaron to put him there. Was it because he was close to her father, was she punishing him for that? He never got what her problem was with the old man but could she be that twisted?

And back to denial. No, what they had was real. He knew what he'd felt, what he still felt for her. The thought of her cutting him loose wouldn't hurt so bad if what they had wasn't real. But doubt remained. She'd never said she felt the same way. Not that he remembered. He read that into her actions. She wanted him physically. Their entire fucking relationship was built on sex. Even now, he could smell her scent on his skin. He was bathed in it, had drowned in it? Got lost somewhere along the way and ignored what was missing?

If she knew all along it wasn't there...

If she'd knowingly let him believe...

"Say something."

Aaron sucked in a breath. "I need to talk to her."

"I don't think that's a good idea. Until we know-"

"I want answers."

"Of course, you do," Mickey said gently. "I'm just saying, take a beat. Gather yourself together. You've got to prepare for what's coming, Aaron. This won't be easy for you."

Cold. Hard. Fact. He was on the verge of losing everything. Funny how a guy never thought of his life as a house of cards until it came tumbling down around his ears. It might have crushed him if he wasn't fortified by the late arrival of rage. The white-hot heat of it transformed his bones into steel.

Oh yeah, now he was pissed. Regardless of whether it was sooner or later, he would get answers. She owed him that.

One thing he knew for sure. If they were done, there was no way in hell he was fighting for his position at her father's company. He still had his pride.

"You wanna go out on a limb with me?" he asked Mickey.

"And do what?"

"Walk. Build something new."

"It's probably not the best time -"

"Yes or no?"

"You already know the answer. I just don't want you to make a decision you'll regret." She drew in a long breath. "I know you, Aaron. You're not a quitter. It goes against the grain."

"I'm not quitting. I'm re-grouping," Aaron argued. "We've got the contacts. Move now, before it's too late, and we can take some clients with us." And thanks to the sale of his apartment, "I've got the money to get us started. It won't be easy, things will be tight for a while..."

"Since when has easy appealed to either one of us? And I have some money set aside, too. We do this, I want in."

"You got it, partner." He dragged his thoughts away from Talia for long enough to formulate a quick plan. "We'll need to make a list of the clients most likely to come with us, people we had a good one-to-one relationship with over the years. The kind of folks likely to take a chance on a start-up, who are attracted to original thinking."

"What makes you think I don't already have a list?"

"Got somewhere for us to work out of, too?"

"I've narrowed it down to three places. None of them have shiny views of Manhattan like the one you've got now, but -"

"They got windows?" Natural light was important when designing a new ad campaign.

And he was an outdoors guy. Even if there was only a thin sliver of it, he liked to see the sky.

"Yes."

"Then we're good." Aaron shook his head. What was he thinking? "You've already got one picked out, haven't you?"

"And some branding ideas. I'm thinking phoenix rising from the ashes..."

Appropriate if his entire life had gone to hell. But if he was lighting the touch paper on his career, there was only one thing he wanted to save from the fire.

"We do this, there's no going back."

It was a warning for them both, on many levels. But one aimed primarily at Mickey. Following him down an unbeaten path was an act of faith on her part. She had to believe in him, in what they were building and could achieve together. There could be no doubt involved. Not this time.

She understood what he was saying, the resolve in her voice rock solid. "It's time, Aaron. This has been coming for a while. You just needed a kick up the ass to get here."

Something his wife had provided with steel-toed boots if his gut instincts were back on form. Compared to the swift decision he made about his work, which felt right, the end of his marriage was harder to swallow.

"I can't stop you going to talk to her..." Mickey added.

No-one would. He was already on his way back to the bedroom to change clothes and grab his wallet.

"But if she is in on this..."

She didn't have to say anything more.

"I won't tell her what we're doing. She never wanted to know anything about my work, anyways. And we have other things to discuss."

"Make it a clean break. It'll heal faster that way."

As opposed to Talia's method of gouging his heart out and walking away while he bled to death on the floor?

Oh, he would still give her the benefit of the doubt he couldn't shake. Along with the minute grain of hope he was still clinging to, he was a pathetically sad sap that way. If there was a way to get past this, he'd work on it with her.

He meant the vows he made.

"Just remember, I'm on your side. You need to talk, I'm here. You need to get stinking drunk, I'll refill the glass. You need to call her names, I've got a colorful collection we can work our way through..."

That Mickey was speaking to him like his marriage was already over, didn't escape him. How she would react if, by some miracle, he managed to patch things up with his wife, was a problem for another time.

"You're the best," he stated with sincerity.

"Haven't I been saying that every day for the past year?"

"Turns out I'm a little slow on the uptake."

"Not slow, Aaron. Optimistic. That's not a bad thing." Her sigh was heartfelt. "Go do what you gotta do. And try not to have sex while you're there. See what's left when you remove it from the equation, because that's what counts, long term. I think you know that."

He used to. Trouble was, as he ended the conversation with Mickey and promised to call her later, he grasped onto what little remained of his optimism like it was a lifeline. He wanted to believe he couldn't have been that wrong, that blind or that stupid. If he had, it would change him. At best, he would be angry, bitter and disillusioned. At worst, he might become as vengeful as Valdez, focused on tearing down everything the person who wounded him had created.

Except he had something Valdez didn't. He had Mickey. She would tell him if he was being a dick. He trusted her completely. He'd never doubted her the way he doubted Talia: The woman who better have bought a plane ticket.

Because if she was still in town, there was a shit storm headed her way.

CHAPTER NINE

The false belief she'd made a clean getaway was shattered within a couple of hours, Aaron's arrival heralded by loud banging.

"Talia. Open this goddamn door right now!"

Well, shit on a cracker. Wasn't this going to be fun?

For a second, she considered ignoring him. He didn't know she was there. It wasn't like he could see her through a window when her studio was on the third floor. For another second, she thought about using the fire escape. Then she figured, if they were going to yell at each other, it made more sense to play her home field advantage.

Decisions, decisions...

More banging. And a kick for good measure.

Just as well she had a heavy-duty industrial door.

"I swear, if you don't open this -"

She slid it open, glared at him for effect, then turned and walked away. The floor was his. For now.

"You wanna explain this?"

The sound of papers being slapped onto the counter beside the computer screen of proofs she was tweaking didn't draw her attention. She already knew what it was.

"I'm not signing that," he informed her.

Yes, she'd noted the absence of his signature the first time he tossed them at her. She should have figured not bringing it up at the time would come back to bite her in the ass. Seriously, she had all the luck.

"You're the one who had them drawn up in the first place," She pointed out. "And technically speaking, I don't need your signature. I can file for divorce without it. I believe 'irreconcilable differences' is the correct legal term."

They most definitely had those.

"A contested divorce will take longer."

"In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not contesting it. You can have whatever you want." Except an interest in her business, obviously. But he didn't have a hope in hell of getting that. And he was too damn honorable to demand it.

"I want an explanation. I think I deserve one, don't you?"

Talia sighed inwardly. See, now, this was precisely the kind of confrontation she'd been trying to avoid when she snuck out of his apartment. "We don't live together. We don't share any assets. And we don't have kids."

Perish the thought. Any kid of hers would be a nightmare.

"I don't want anything from you." She touched up the tiny suggestion of shadow under a model's eyes which make-up was unable to disguise. The shots were meant to advertise clothes, not bulimia. "There's nothing to contest. If we hadn't had so much sex in the last year, I could apply for an annulment."

"I have an army of lawyers on speed dial. If I want to contest this, they'll find a way." His Texan accent was more pronounced, the way it always was when he was really pissed off. "You want a fight, darlin', I'll give you one."

"Why bother?" She looked him straight in the eye and bit back with, "You can't tell me this is the kind of marriage you've been dreaming of your entire adult life."

"It's not."

"Well, there you go, then." She reached out, placed the tip of her forefinger on the battered paperwork and shoved it back to him. "Just sign on the dotted line..."

He folded his arms across his chest and adopted a man no move, woman wrong, pose. "Not 'til I get some answers."

"My signature on there should be self-explanatory." She returned to her work, ignoring the twin holes being bored into her skull by his eyes. "This farce has gone on long enough."

"Then what the hell was last night?" His raised voice echoed around the room. "Some kind of fucked up goodbye?"

Please. Like shouting at her made a difference. She wasn't some cowardly, emotionally defenseless weakling. Not anymore. Even if there was anything left of that girl, she was conditioned to ignore it for the first two to three hours. And after that, he'd have to get creative with his insults to make a dent. There wasn't anything she hadn't been called before.

She shrugged. "It was your turn to pick a fantasy."

"That's what you thought it was?"

What else could it be?

Wait. Her gaze lifted to his thunderous expression. Crap. He had thought it was a new beginning, hadn't he? A burst of something resembling laughter escaped her lips. Didn't he know her, at all? "It was date night, Aaron. Just like always. All I did was play the part you wanted me to."

"So, none of the things I said to you meant anything?"

And now she was confused. What things? The way she remembered it, there hadn't been much talking involved.

"Did you know about Valdez?"

Say, what now? Talia raised her brows. "Valdez?"

"Ric."

"The guy you were arm wrestling at the benefit?"

"Don't mess with me."

Been there. Done that. And apparently, it had more of an effect than she'd realized. She hadn't a fucking clue what he was talking about. Had he lost his mind?

"If I find out you've been playing me... that this was nothing more than some giant fuck you to your father..."

Okay. Back on topic. Yay, for that. "You knew what you were getting into with me. I'm not the stay-at-home type."

"Did I ask you to be? I wanted us to live under the same roof and share our lives. I don't think that was such a fucking unreasonable request to make from my wife."

Great. Now they were retreading that well-worn ground. How many times did they have to have this argument before he figured out he would never change her mind?

"We had one wild weekend in Vegas and topped it off with a ten-minute exchange of meaningless words officiated over by a really bad Elvis impersonator. What part of that screamed happily-ever-after to you?" She laughed out loud and it sounded more genuine this time. "I mean, c'mon, it couldn't have been more of a cliché. Follow the script and it's obvious I'm not the woman you end up with. That role is reserved for the trusty Girl Friday, someone like Mickey, who's been under your nose this entire time. You should ask her out."

Oops, little too much cheeriness in that last part.

Making a strategic retreat, Talia lifted her empty coffee cup and headed across the room for a refill. That whole territorial thing had to stop. She'd never been the 'just because I don't want him, doesn't mean someone else can have him' type. Who he banged next was none of her business.

"Just like that?" The sound she heard obviously meant he'd unfolded his arms to snap his fingers. "You say we're done, so I'm supposed to suck it up and move on?"

Worked for her. In fact, if he could be a little more accommodating, they could celebrate all the fun they had with a divorce party. But if he needed closure...

"For the past year, we've lived separate lives and hooked up for sex," she calmly informed him. "That's worked for me but it hasn't for you. You want more and I'm not interested in anything long term. We're not compatible outside the bedroom."

"That's all you got? No discussion, no explanation? Not even a 'thanks for the good time'?" The proximity of his voice suggested he'd followed her across the room. A fact she confirmed when she set down her cup by the pot and turned to witness his mouth twist into a bitter impersonation of a smile. "You're a piece of work."

Oh, good. They were entering the name calling phase of the argument. Feeble first attempt but she had to give him props. If their positions were reversed, she wouldn't have held out so long. The second he opened the door was more likely.

"Let it go, Aaron. Sign the papers."

"So you can go back to screwing your way across Manhattan? Hell, maybe you never stopped."

Okay, that one rankled. "I don't have to justify my actions to you or anyone else. How I live my life is my choice." And it had taken a hell of a long time to work that out. "If I was a man, it would be different, right? But a woman who does the same thing is a whore or must have low self-esteem."

He took a step closer, getting all up in her face. "This isn't a debate about sexism. This is about deceit. I meant the vows we made, every damn word of them. I thought you did, too. Or at least took them seriously enough to give this a shot. But you never intended to stick around, did you?" Anger blazed in his eyes. "You lied. Right from the start."

Usually, she would have fought fire with fire. But with rage radiating from his large body, she fell back on a familiar method of defense. Ice formed a hard shell around her heart, chilling the blood in her veins and transforming her voice into a cold, emotionless monotone. "Don't play the victim, Aaron. I never pretended to be something I'm not. If you fooled yourself into thinking something different -believed we had more than we did \- that's on you, not me. I'm not the one who changed the rules. You did that the second you had a ring on my finger. You think I didn't notice the little campaign you were running to sell commitment to me?"

False advertising, that's what it was.

Originally, he sold himself to her as a lover who could satisfy her every need. His sex drive was as voracious as her own and sometimes, it felt like he knew what she needed before she voiced it. His stamina was impressive, too. And on that score, alongside the orgasm record, they were equal. No buyer's remorse whatsoever. Best sex of her life. Hands down.

It was intimacy of a different kind where it all fell apart because a/ he needed it from her and b/ she didn't have it in her to give.

Talia was a survivor and survivors didn't get emotionally involved the way they might have before they learned what it took to survive.

If they met before it changed her, things might have been different. But he hadn't walked into her life when she would have thrown herself at the feet of anyone who'd shown her the tiniest bit of warmth or affection. So, none of the sweet talking, patient or supportive tactics he employed were ever going to get through to her. If anything, they made her resent the living hell out of the fact he tried. Even if a microscopic part of her, the twisted, masochistic remains of the girl she'd once been, willed him to try harder.

"I wanted this to work!"

"Then you should have married someone else."

"Why did you marry me?"

Good question. One she didn't want to answer. Not because she didn't know but because she didn't want to admit the truth. It was her guiltiest of guilty secrets. One which made it feel like she'd swallowed a gallon of acid.

"Seemed like a fun thing to do at the time," she lied, the acid creating a perverse impersonation of a smile. "And we did have fun, didn't we?"

Aaron looked like the top of his head was about to explode. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"It was a fantasy from the start," she said flatly. "A game we both played. We could have gone on the way we were for years. Who knows? Maybe one day, when we were old and grey and our sex drive slowed down, we might have found another reason to stay together, discovered something to talk about or a common interest or decided we had too much shared history to part. The shit people fall back on, when what it comes down to is they're afraid of dying alone." She blinked slowly, as if clearing a mist from her eyes. "But now we'll never know, will we? Because you couldn't let it be."

Way more than she'd planned on saying.

But it was out there now.

"So, this is my fault?" Disbelief battled with incredulity on his face. "If I played by your rules everything would be fine. To hell with what I want. It's your way or the highway."

Well, lookie there, he'd finally got it.

If she was as big a bitch as she was allowing him to think she was, she might have given him a round of applause.

The blank expression on her face made him rock back on his heels, realization hitting home. He shook his head, his voice a harsh whisper. "You never loved me."

"I don't do love."

"You didn't feel anything?"

"I got horny every time I thought about you," she replied. "Does that count?"

Aaron recoiled, blinked at a random point above her head, opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. Yeah, he had nothing. But if he was incapable of hating her on his own, Talia could help him with that.

Angling her head, she looked him over like a prime cut of meat. "You wanna go at it now? Have a little therapeutic angry sex while you think of something pithy to say before you storm out the door? Though I gotta admit, last night's gonna be hard to beat, don't you think?"

There was a flash of fury in his eyes.

That was more like it.

"You got a pen?"

"By the computer."

He marched straight to it, grabbed it off the counter and signed his name on the dotted line. Then, tossing the pen aside, he quirked his brows. "Happy now?" A bark of broken laughter left his lips. "Who am I kidding? You don't know how to be happy. You're gonna end up bitter and alone."

"Bitter, maybe," Talia allowed, vitally aware of the distance which had developed between them, both literally and figuratively. But since she'd already proved how cold-hearted she could be, she rubbed salt into the wound, "Alone?" She shook her head. "Not for long."

"You know," Aaron said pensively, his gaze roaming around the room as if he was searching for something he'd lost. "I was never on the receiving end of it but I witnessed more than once the damage your father could inflict with a handful of words." His gaze cut back to her face. "Guess the apple didn't fall far from the tree."

Burn. And it sliced through the ice, shattering the wall she'd built around her heart into hundreds of tiny, razor sharp pieces. For the first time in years, someone had found a chink in her armor. And it hurt.

"Get out."

"Little too close to home, sugar?"

"I said, get out."

"Good luck with your brother."

"I don't have a brother." And she was barely holding it together.

If he didn't leave soon...

"Valdez is your brother."

No, he wasn't.

"You didn't know?"

"Get the fuck out, Aaron. Don't make me call the cops."

He had the good sense to leave. But, even after several deep breaths, when Talia turned away from the empty room and reached for her coffee mug, her hand shook. He was trying to mess with her head in retaliation for what she'd done to him, that was all. She would know if she had a brother.

Anger bubbled inside her, forcing her to grip the counter and bend forwards as she sucked in several more long, deep, breaths. She wouldn't let another man mess with her head. And she wasn't going to cry. She wasn't sure she remembered how.

What she did remember was how it felt to be on the receiving end of rejection, how it twisted your gut and crushed your soul and scrambled your brain when you let yourself believe things weren't all that bad, that they would get better if you just hung in there for a little while longer. She'd been there, convinced herself the person causing her pain didn't mean to do it and would be sorry if they knew. She lied to herself for years, had been lied to so many times she'd started to think every horrible, vindictive, insidiously painful thing her father said was true.

The thought she'd made Aaron feel that way, that he'd lashed out because he was experiencing some of the same kind of pain? Great. And now she was nauseous.

Crap. Was she going to throw up?

More deep breaths. No, she wasn't. She was fine. It was just the residual anger mixed in with a heavy dose of unnecessary guilt and a hell of a lot of stomach acid. Aaron hated her now. That was good. He'd recover quicker that way.

Pushing back from the counter, she tossed her hair over her shoulder and raised her chin high. She was not going to feel guilty for this. She hadn't manipulated him for kicks. She wasn't her father. And she did not have a goddamn brother.

The one consolation she had growing up was she didn't have someone else to protect. The choices her mother made were her own. She seemed to have grown immune to it over the years or had decided to accept things the way they were or didn't want to shame her family with a divorce. Talia would never know. Before she could ask, her mother was gone. Escape by suicide. Found in the bathtub by her twelve-year-old daughter. But if Talia had a sibling or worse still a younger, smaller, more defenseless child who relied on her to keep him safe...

The first gag made her cover her mouth with her hand. The second made her run to the bathroom where she barely had time to put the seat up before she created the equivalent of a Jackson Pollock painting on the porcelain.

Several minutes later, she flushed the masterpiece away, rinsed out her mouth and sat down on the tiles with her back to the wall, waiting for the nausea to pass.

She frowned at the ceiling and drew her knees up to her chin, hugging them tight with her arms to stop the shaking. On the plus side, if the mere thought of another human being in pain caused such a violent physical reaction, the apple hadn't fallen that close to the tree. Yes, she was selfish. There was a very good reason for that. But she wasn't totally devoid of a conscience.

Lesson learned. She was obviously evolving. Go her.

The rocking started before she realized she was doing it and when she did, the tears came. Goddamn it, she was not going to do this again. She'd beaten it. She was in control. She was going to throw up again. And it wasn't like she'd eaten that much. What the hell was wrong with her?

If getting involved with a guy for more than a one-night stand felt this bad, she was never, ever doing it again.

CHAPTER TEN

One look at Aaron's face when she opened the door was all it took for Mickey to know what had happened.

"Shoulder, alcohol or name calling?" she inquired.

Aaron tried to smile for her and failed miserably. He was too defeated to smile. "Let's start with the alcohol."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Talia became a recluse.

Okay, that was an exaggeration. She was busy with work, hadn't been sleeping much, her stomach hadn't settled and she didn't feel like pinning on a smile and being the life and soul of the party until it did. No big deal. It wouldn't be the first time she'd disappeared. Her friends wouldn't have a problem with it. Though, she suspected they might be a smidge miffed she hadn't answered any of their calls or messages. Not that there were many. Which, to be honest, rankled a tad.

The notion of a lifelong love affair with herself was becoming more appealing by the day. She was self-sufficient and financially stable, liked her own company, thought she was hilarious and knew her milkshake brought all the boys to the yard. What wasn't to love? She could live her life whatever way she pleased. And when she was ready to paint the town again, her friends should be up for another cocktail night at the drop of a hat. In fact, one of those was overdue.

Okay, fine, the silence was getting to her.

Since all it took was a single glance at a bottle of wine to make her stomach bubble, she withdrew a bottle of still water from the fridge before flopping down on the sofa with her phone to remind the gang she was still alive.

"A & M Designs, Avery Buchanan speaking, how may I -"

"Do you ever check the screen of your phone before you answer it?"

"You called my work number."

Oh yeah, that's right. Avery had one of those archaic phones in her office that was barely a step up from fire and a blanket as a means of communication. She insisted it went with the décor. Talia rolled her eyes at the memory of the long explanation she was given for its existence.

Designers. They could be a giant pain in a photographer's ass.

"I called you on your work number because you're always at work. Seriously, you need to get a life."

"I have a life. Lately it's been interrupting my work quite a bit. Hence why I'm here, trying to catch up."

Talia wrinkled her nose with distaste. She hated when Avery used that tone. It was like she was trying to explain a simple concept to a very small child.

Snuggling down deeper into the cushions, she pulled the neck of the hoodie she was wearing up over her chin before she replied with something sarcastic. It was a well-worn item of clothing she adopted when Aaron left it behind after a rare sleepover at her place and it still had a feint hint of his aftershave. Funny how that didn't make her feel nauseous when everything else seemed to these days.

On the upside, her attack of conscience obviously hadn't been a seismic shift in personality. She had stomach flu. That was all. And it was getting better. It was.

"On that subject," she continued, "How about interrupting it some more on Friday night? Girls' night out on the town to celebrate my newfound freedom..."

There was a brief pause. "You signed the papers?"

"Yup, done and dusted and in the hands of my attorney. Just waiting on the decree. We can have a party when it arrives."

"How did Aaron take it?"

"He'll survive. And I'm fine, thanks for asking."

Avery sighed. "Of course, you're fine. You knew this was coming. I doubt very much Aaron did. He was crazy about you. And he put up with a lot."

Oh, good, another lecture. Just what she needed. "You were the ones who wanted me to cut him loose."

"Because it wasn't fair to keep stringing him along," Avery countered with a hint of what could almost have been mistaken for irritation.

"I wasn't stringing him along," Talia argued. "It's not my fault he convinced himself it was something it wasn't. Whose side are you on, anyway?"

"Aaron is a good man. They're not easy to find. I just hope you don't regret this one day."

Please. If she regretted anything, it was telling her friends she got married in the first place. Not that it was easy to miss that ring. She wondered if Aaron would keep it for his next bride, then swiftly dismissed the idea. He wouldn't do anything that crass. Avery was right. He was a good guy. Some gal who needed him would be lucky to have him. She wondered if he'd had sex with Mickey yet.

The thought made her frown. "You want to go out this weekend or not?"

"I can't. I have plans."

"You can't work all the damn time."

"I'm not working. I have a...thing to go to with someone..."

The water bottle stilled in front of Talia's face. "You mean, a date?"

"Not a date, per-se. It's more of a -"

"Hook up? Are you actually getting laid?"

"I'm not discussing my sex life with you. "

"The fact you even have a sex life is front page news. I'm surprised there wasn't a report on CNN." Talia blinked with a combination of amusement and astonishment. "Does everything still work down there? You must have needed buckets of lube to deal with the rust. Please tell me it was sticky and messy in a really good way."

"And this is precisely why I don't want to discuss it," Avery muttered. "You're almost as bad as him."

'Almost' as bad? Sounded like someone she wanted to meet. Particularly if he'd nudged Avery out of the rut she'd got in. Course, when Talia raised the subject, Avery had serenely justified her solitude with that fucking smile. She said she liked her life neat and organized and calm. It was soothing. Sounded boring as hell to Talia, but each to their own. Wasn't like she was making any headway arguing, anyway.

But the thought of someone who, in a matter of weeks, won a battle she'd been fighting for years, was intriguing.

"Who is he? Did you meet him at that dumbass reunion?"

"No," Avery responded. "I went with him to the reunion, which you'd know if you hadn't pulled another of your disappearing acts. I doubt you even know what's going on with Callie and Oscar. If you did, you'd have called to gloat."

Nice attempt at changing the subject.

"Old news. Beth told me they were going on a date."

Avery tutted. "You're behind the times. They're officially a couple now. He's practically moved into her apartment."

Must be crowded, there was barely enough room for Callie in there. "I'll call her next. She has an 'I told you so' coming..." She took a quick sip of water. "But back to the good stuff. Has this mystery guy introduced you to an orgasm?"

"I'm not answering that."

The obvious smile which accompanied her confession made Talia smile, too. "Well, dang girl. Congratulations! Since I doubt Hallmark has a card for this special occasion, I'll raise a glass to you with the girls on our big night out."

"You do that." Avery paused to take a long breath. "Now, seriously, how are you, no regrets?"

"Don't believe in them.."

"Well, if you're sure..."

"I am," She said firmly. "And I've got a gloating phone call to make, so gotta go."

"They're happy. Be happy for her. You can do happy, right?"

Not according to Aaron. But what did he know? He never knew her. Not really.

Not in a way that counted.

"Have fun on your hook up. And word from the wise: If you don't scream when you come, he's not doing it right."

"I'm hanging up now."

After another sip of water and a second spent questioning why she was suddenly so ravenous, Talia dialed the next number.

Callie answered on the second ring, like she'd been sitting on her phone. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Snappy much?" Talia blithely inquired. "I've been having lots of pre-divorce sex," she lied. "Wasn't that the plan?"

"You signed the papers?"

"And returned the man repellent." She raised her left arm and waggled her fingers. "It feels like I dropped ten pounds off my hand."

"Are you okay?"

Bonus points for asking that question first. Talia might have to consider bumping her up the ranking on her speed dial.

"Why wouldn't I be?" she laughed, the sound still a little rough from all the porcelain painting she'd been doing. "I'm free as a bird. Single men in Manhattan should celebrate. I'll be back on the hunt this weekend."

Not entirely true. If someone caught her eye, fair enough. An orgasm or two was always welcome. But if it didn't happen, that was okay. She was more interested in some girl time. Her spirits lifted at the thought. Callie might be with her bestie now and madly in lurve, but she never missed a night out. And after a session with the sex guru Talia set Beth up with, she'd be ready to put her newfound skills to use. Watching her try and adding her two cents was just the kind of fun Talia needed to feel like her old self again.

Even though her next question was likely to open her up to the kind of romantic gushing which would make her want to stab herself in the ear, Talia figured it was best to get it over with. "How's Oscar?"

"You know, it would be really nice if everyone didn't ask me that when they call. Used to be a time folks called to see how I am."

Uh-oh. "Do I detect trouble in paradise?"

"If you're thinking of handing out advice, you can keep it to yourself this time."

Inhaling deeply, she considered how Saint Avery would approach the problem and surprised herself by meaning every word she said. "Don't screw it up, kid. If you love the guy, hang on to him."

"Like you held on to Aaron?"

"What makes you think I loved him?"

"You married him."

"After a bottle of tequila and a few sessions with that talented tongue of his, you would have married him." Talia countered. "Difference is, you're the marrying kind."

Whether it was her tone or what she said, Talia didn't know. But either way it was enough to make Callie back down.

Then came the inevitable, "How did Aaron take it?"

"Let's just say I don't think I'll be on his Christmas card list this year."

"Hmmm..." Callie murmured. "Can't really blame him."

"C'est la vie." But Talia wasn't going to wallow in guilt over it.

She frowned. She was so hungry she could eat half a cow. Medium rare. Preferably barbecued. Ha! Take that, stomach flu!

"You do know you're going to end up old and alone if you keep doing this," Callie said as Talia got off the sofa and went to check what was edible in the fridge.

"I prefer to think of it as mature and independent."

And seriously, where the hell was it written a woman had to have a man in her life to be happy? She was perfectly capable of looking after herself. She could buy herself gifts, could stock her kitchen cupboards with comfort foods for shitty days and cans of chicken soup for when she felt sick. Speaking of which, chicken soup was probably the safer option after a bad bout of stomach flu. She wondered if the Deli on the corner had any. Ooohhhh, chicken noodle soup would be better. Chinese style. And she could totally order that in.

She was so busy fantasizing about the soup, she missed the first part of what Callie said next. But the second part was, "I just hope I'm around on the day karma catches up with you."

Talia laughed. "If I believed in karma I might be worried." Enough of the small talk. Time to test the waters and see how big the Oscar problem was. "So, are you coming hunting with me this weekend?"

"No."

Yeah, that's what she figured. "Well, since Avery seems to be spending time naked these days, I'll have to call Beth."

"Don't corrupt her."

Too late, if things had gone according to plan. And, anyway, "She could do with a little corrupting."

They ended with a promise to catch up soon and after placing her soup order, Talia called Beth.

It took considerably longer to answer. Most likely because she was doing Math of some kind. "Talia?"

"The one and only..."

"The next time I see you, I am going to strangle you."

WTF? What had she done now? "Didn't he call you?"

"Yes, he called me," Beth hissed as if she was standing somewhere she could be overheard. "We met up and I had the best sex of my life. I even tipped him."

Seemed to Talia that merited more of a thank you than a death threat.

"And the problem is...?"

"The problem is he's not what you thought he was and I only discovered that little piece of information after I paid him!"

Talia laughed out loud.

"It's not funny!"

It kinda was and now she'd started, she couldn't seem to stop.

The expression on Beth's face when she found out must have been priceless.

She was vaguely aware of something which sounded like a cuss word being hissed in her ear. But that couldn't be right. Prim and proper little Beth never swore. In fact, it was a bit of a miracle she hadn't apologized for the case of mistaken identity. Maybe she'd used up all her apologies on the guy who was a smidge confused about why she was handing him a wad of cash... With a generous tip...

"I have never been more humiliated in my entire life and you're laughing?"

Talia did her absolute best to hold it inside. "Whoops."

"Whoops?" Beth responded in a particularly mouse-like screech. "That's all you have to say?"

Oh, come on. It wasn't like she did it on purpose.

"What was I thinking?" Beth questioned plaintively. "This is so typically you. You leave a trail of destruction wherever you go. And you never, ever say sorry, no matter what you've done. Don't you have a conscience?"

"This was your idea," Talia reminded her. "You came to me for help."

"And look where it got me."

Being the villain of the story was getting old, as were her so-called friends attempts at trying to get her to see the error of her ways. Though to be fair, Avery and Callie were subtler about it.

Seriously, it was like having three really annoying Jiminy Cricket's as friends.

"If you've finally got around to signing those papers, Aaron had a lucky escape," Beth muttered.

Ouch. "Look, I get that you're a little miffed right now -"

"Miffed? Discreet, you said. No-one will ever know, you said. This little not-so-clandestine rendezvous could ruin my life. You don't know what he's like... he's just so... well for starters, he's really, really pissed I ran out on him before he was done with me..."

Talia blinked. Beth said pissed. In that accent, it sounded weird.

"I was never supposed to see him again," she whined. "Now he has me on speed-dial and seems to think I should drop whatever I'm doing, day or night, to rush over and help him out because I owe him and he doesn't want all the hassle of suing me for defamation of character."

"Wait. Is that bastard blackmailing you for more sex? Cos if he is I will march straight upstairs and nail his balls -"

"Don't you dare go near him! You've done enough damage already." Beth sighed heavily. "Why are you calling me, anyway? You must want something. It's the only time you call."

Not true. Not every time.

"I called to see if you'd like to go out and have a good time tomorrow night."

Getting her drunk and hearing the full story sounded like a plan to Talia. Maybe then she'd get to the bottom of what was going on. The woman in the elevator that day recommended his services and said his 'rates' were reasonable. She'd even winked. What the hell else was she talking about?

"Is everyone else busy? I take it that's why you're calling me. It's not like I'm at the top of your call list. "

Wow. Having an orgasm or two really brought out Beth's inner bitch. Under normal circumstances, Talia might be impressed. But right that minute, not so much.

"Forget it," she replied flatly. "I just thought it would be nice to spend some time with my friends now I've fulfilled my part of the stupid pact." When it sounded like Beth took a breath in preparation, she preempted her. "Yes, I signed the papers. No, Aaron didn't take it well. And if you believe in Karma like Callie, you'll be glad to hear I've had stomach flu. Great diet, by the way. Not that I rate it."

"If you're sick, a night on the town won't help."

Still no apology? Who was this girl?

"Maybe you should see a doctor."

It was stomach flu. Not bubonic plague. And it, like all the other things which bugged her, would pass. She needed to remember that, particularly when her friends were being so annoying. Not that the noticeable lack of them being there when she needed them helped. It was like they hadn't missed her, at all.

The thought made her snippy. "Did you get a refund?"

There was a long, heavy silence at the other end of the line. Then a coldly polite, "I think it best we end this conversation before I say something rude."

"Something rude would be a lot more fun than most of the stuff I've heard in the last half hour," Talia muttered. "You know what? Forget it. I don't need company to go out on the town. I can find company when I'm out there."

"Whatever makes you happy."

And there was that word again. Why was everyone so fucking determined she wasn't happy already? It wasn't like she dressed all emo and trudged around town under a raincloud. She was about to say as much when she realized Beth, the newborn bitch, had hung up on her.

Well, screw the lot of them. She was going to have fun. Having fun always made her happy. Being a workaholic recluse was boring. Stomach flu was boring. Having friends who all seemed to have got lives during her absence, albeit some of them problematic, was boring.

And a bored Talia...

CHAPTER TWELVE

The bar she chose that Friday night was an up-and-coming hotspot in Brooklyn, out of her usual catchment area. She figured she was less likely to bump into some random guy from her wilder days there or experience an awkward moment when she couldn't remember his name. And whatever company she deemed worthy of attention wouldn't know anything about her. She could be anyone she pretended to be.

It was hotter than the face of the sun inside. The air conditioning which was supposed to turn the indoors into the arctic opposite of the clammy summer heatwave the city was enduring outdoors, proving pointless when there were so many of the old, lead-paned windows thrown open. Music was good. Old school eighties rock, played loud enough for her to feel the bass in her bones. And the room was crowded with the young, the restless and the available, all of them in search of a good time. Her kind of place.

She wore a tight, short, scooped-neck LBD with sparkly, open-toed, spikey heeled Louboutin's. Her slick pony tail was twice its usual length thanks to a temporary extension. Her nails were false, her lashes enhanced, her face contoured and her tits displayed by a balcony bra.

Any red-blooded male with eyes would know she was on the hunt.

A few experimental sips of a Long Island Iced Tea didn't do anything to upset her stomach, so she stuck with that and stirred the melting ice as she looked around.

Frat boys at two o'clock. Too young and too drunk. Gorgeous guy at six o'clock. Flirting with an equally gorgeous, slightly more rugged guy. She obviously wasn't either one's type and even if she was, three ways had never been her thing. She preferred all the attention on her. Too short, too hairy, too slick, trying too hard. Wedding ring, already mid-hookup, nerd, stuck in the same era as the music. Disappointing. Maybe she should take her drink outside and examine the part of the crowd which had spilled onto the sidewalk?

But before she could, a deep voice yelled to be heard over the music.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

Talia cast a cursory glance over the goods. Tall, dark, not bad looking. Well-groomed but not over-groomed. Open shirt, no medallions. Expensive wristwatch, well-toned bicep above the elbow he casually laid on the bar. Blatantly confident judging by the way he leaned into her personal space. Usually, he would have been just what she was looking for to supply a few hours of fun. But there was no tingle, no spark, nothing to indicate she was even remotely attracted to him.

Pity, really. Particularly when no-one else had caught her eye.

"I'm good," she yelled back.

"Oh, you're more than good." He studied her all the way down to her shoes and back up, lingering for a moment on her shapely thighs and smiling appreciatively at her ample cleavage. "You're fine."

The line was so bad it made her a little nauseous. Maybe that's what was wrong. The residual traces of stomach flu were putting her off her game. Her libido was lower than usual. Had been for a while. Most likely because it had been a while. She couldn't remember the last time she'd gone so long without sex and had figured getting laid was the obvious solution. Apart from the time she lost her virginity to a James Dean wannabe who couldn't have cared less how painful and embarrassing the experience was for her, sex had always been her go-to mood improver. Once she learned how it could feel, thanks to a guy more than twice her age who got a kick out of fucking her father's daughter, she became an addict. She reveled in the warmth of skin-on-skin, the physical closeness of being entangled with another person's body, the fullness she felt when they were joined together and the brief ecstasy which came from the pleasure they gave one another. Without it, she felt like she'd lost something. But looking at this guy, she knew she didn't want to find it with him.

"Pretty lame line, huh?"

Talia nodded. "The lamest."

"I've got more."

"I'm sure you do."

"We can work our way through them. We hit one that makes you laugh, you'll let me buy you a drink." He held out a large hand. "Deal?"

Talia eyed up the proffered hand with suspicion, considered the possibility of skin-to-skin contact igniting a spark. Then she realized how hot she was (and not in a good way), the thought of sweaty palms crossed her mind and she felt nauseas again.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine." But when she stood up, the room spun and stars winked at the edges of her vision. Fucking stomach flu.

"Steady," the deep voice said closer to her ear.

Talia felt a supportive arm circle her waist and immediately resented the living hell out of her need for it. It was a surprisingly strong arm, the kind a girl could lean on quite happily in a moment of weakness. It put her back up.

"I just need some air."

"Not sure there's much more of that outside than there is in here," Mr. Helpful commented as he guided her to the door.

Talia tried to shrug him off. "I've got this."

"How much have you had to drink?"

Fair assumption considering their location but it didn't stop her feeling aggrieved about the implication. "I'm not drunk," she snapped back. "I just got here."

Since they were close enough to the exit for her to bail, she stepped free from his hold and took a step back. Bad move. The crowd blurred into lumps of indistinguishable color, her head felt like it wasn't attached to her neck anymore and she wobbled precariously on her heels. Maybe she should have eaten more than a few slices of toast before she left her apartment. Those two sips of alcohol had gone straight to her fuzzy little head.

"You didn't have anything to drink before you got here?"

Why was he still standing there being all judgy and annoying?

"Go away."

"Can't. Not 'til I know you're okay. I took an oath."

"Do you have a white horse tied up outside?" She'd bet shiny silver armor was hell to wear in this heatwave.

A corner of his mouth quirked upwards as he placed his arm back around her waist and fixed his gaze on the door. "You can trust me. I'm a doctor."

"Sure, you are."

"I really am."

Funny. Beth had said she should see one of those.

"You got I.D.?"

There was the tiniest hint of a breeze outside and when they hit the sidewalk, she sucked it in like a nicotine addict at the end of a long-haul flight.

Mr. Helpful released her for long enough to produce something from the back pocket of his jeans. "Here."

Talia squinted at the laminated I.D. he held in front of her face. "Anyone could make one of those."

"We can go to the nearest hospital and have you checked out," he suggested. "They know me there."

Not a chance. She didn't do hospitals and she didn't need Doctor Helpful to diagnose her ailment. "I've got stomach flu," she announced, pausing for long enough to suck in more oxygen-low air. "I've had it for a while. So, unless you wanna stick around until I throw up on your shoes, I think we're done here."

"Are you a doctor, too? Cos if you are, you should know a simple case of stomach flu would be out of your system within a few days. A week, tops. How long is a while?"

She huffed out a sigh. "Longer than that."

"Okay, then. Let's see..." He laid the back of his hand against her forehead. "You're not hot, so -"

Talia pushed the hand away. "If I wasn't hot you wouldn't have tried to pick me up at the bar."

"I meant you don't have a fever. That's good." The smile he tossed at her was engaging but dimples could only hold her attention for so long. "In the absence of an exam table, you'll have to tell me your symptoms and we'll see if I can narrow it down from there."

"Let me guess, the offer of a free physical is another one of your lame lines."

"No. But I might use that some time."

A small burst of laughter left her lips.

It upgraded his smile to a grin. "Now you have to let me buy you a drink. Though, considering the circumstances, water might be best."

"I didn't shake on that deal."

"Still counts."

"Is this how you pick up women? By playing the doctor card?"

"No, again." He shook his head. "I usually keep that to myself."

"Because it invites people to rhyme off every illness they've had since birth?"

"Because it makes me a target. Doctors and lawyers are still high on mothers' wish-lists for son-in-law's."

"Ah," Talia nodded sagely.

"I don't have time for a relationship," he felt the need to tell her.

It was the kind of statement which should have roused her interest. Uncomplicated was top of her list of requirements. But while the nausea and swaying seemed to have passed, there still wasn't a spark between them.

While she tried to figure it out why, he raised a brow.

"Too honest for you?"

"Nope. And my mother's dead, so you don't have to worry about her list."

"Do you have one?"

"Beyond easy on the eyes and unattached?"

He nodded, hiding the amusement that sparkled in his eyes with a downward glance while he pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"No," she replied. "I don't do complicated or involved." Been there, done that, didn't plan on doing it ever again. "But..."

"But?"

"Look, I just got out of something I shouldn't have got into, okay?" Her tone was defensive and hearing it irritated her immensely. "That's why I came here."

"To prove something?"

Talia glanced around and sucked in a longer breath. Why was she still talking to this guy? She didn't know him. He didn't know her. Ideal circumstances for mutual sexual gratification if there was a glimmer of attraction between them. That there wasn't should have been enough to end the conversation five minutes ago.

And yet, here she was, still talking. "I don't have anything to prove. And if it wasn't for the stupid stomach flu, I'd have blown you off and moved on." Her gaze slid back to him. "It's nothing personal..."

"You don't have to apologize. I'm not offended."

If she had apologized, it would have been a first. "Look, I don't want to put you off your game. You should go back in there. Give it another shot."

"I do have game," he stated without an ounce of humility. "And, for the record, it would take more than this to put me off. But I'm good where I am. Thanks, anyway."

"I'm not gonna pass out if that's what you're worried about."

"When's the last time you ate?"

Since she was certain he wasn't referring the dry toast she'd been living on after discovering she couldn't keep soup down, Talia shrugged. "Busy day."

"You probably have low blood sugar."

"I'll grab something on the way home."

"Place on the corner does great burgers. We can take a load off while we eat."

Persistent, wasn't he?

"Why?" she asked bluntly.

"Up until," he checked his wristwatch, "two hours ago, I was on call. I haven't eaten anything but cafeteria food since yesterday. Take pity on me and I can ease my conscience about abandoning a damsel in distress at the same time."

Skipping over the damsel part because, judging by the constant twinkle in his eyes, it was another lame line, Talia shook her head. "Not what I meant. In case you hadn't got it already..." She waved her hands up and down in front of her body. "You're not tapping this."

There was a low rumble of laughter. "I seem that desperate to you?"

"What's that supposed to mean? I'll have you know I'm spectacular in bed."

"I don't doubt it. You've got that vibe."

See? There was a vibe. And of course, she had it. Duh.

"So, what's the play here?"

"I can't just grab something to eat with a beautiful woman because we both happen to be in the same place at the same time and in need of food?"

No. It was never that straightforward. He could be a serial killer for all she knew. A cannibal serial killer. Hence the need to fatten her up.

"Brief Encounter."

Talia blinked. "What?"

"The movie. You don't know it?"

"Obviously not."

His head bobbed a little from side-to-side, his generous mouth forming a shrug. "We're both single, we'll probably never see each other again and we're not in a train station but the opening premise fits..."

"I'll take you word for it," Talia responded cautiously. "You did say you work in a hospital, right? You don't have a nice padded room there?"

His smile returned. "I said they know me there." When her eyes narrowed, he elaborated, "I'm a partner at a private practice. We send a lot of referrals their way."

"Aren't you a little young to be a partner?"

"Family business." He leaned a little closer. "And I'm thirty-two, if that's what you're asking."

Whatever.

"Honestly?" he asked as he rocked back on his heels.

"That would be good."

"It's not often I get to just talk to a woman. Most of the time, it's either foreplay or pre-examination. I won't lie and say the former wasn't on my mind when I saw you at the bar. You say the word now and can manage to keep a burger down and I'm still up for offers so long as it's understood we'll never see or talk to each other again."

Wow. She was liking this guy more by the minute. Folding her arms over her breasts, she angled her chin and studied him more closely. If she just felt a glimmer of attraction... She dug deep but nope, still nothing.

"You've never had a guy friend, have you?"

Talia confirmed his suspicion. "Not a straight one."

"And I've never spent time with a woman I didn't want to fuck or work with, or both. But let's give it a shot, shall we? I promise not to think about sex if you don't."

Talia sucked in a long breath and considered the offer.

Did she even want a guy friend?

His tone lowered. "Think of it this way. We can say anything we want without fear of repercussions. No topic is off the table. There'll be no hurt feelings, no expectation we'll do this again. It's a one-off opportunity to get some insight into the opposite sex." He nudged her shoulder with his upper arm. "C'mon. I'm offering you a once in a lifetime opportunity to offload here. What have you got to lose?"

Wow. So, that's what persuasion felt like when it was done right. For the first time in her life, it didn't feel like manipulation or a power struggle. Most likely because his argument was solid and he made it with just the right combination of rough, deep voice and an accompanying warmth in his eyes.

What the hell. "Okay, Doc. You've talked me into it."

"Excellent. Seems like a good time for introductions. I'll go first." He held out the same large hand he'd offered her in the bar. "I'm-"

"Uh-uh," Talia interrupted. "Ground rules. No last names. We don't need them. And as this is a one-off, there'll be no exchanging numbers. Deal?"

"Deal."

She slipped her palm into his and was relieved to find it dry. "I'm Talia."

"Hi, Talia. It's nice to meet you." He smiled as their hands bobbed up and down. "I'm Aaron."

What the fuck?

Talia snatched her hand back. "That's not your name."

"Yeah, it is."

"Not tonight it's not. You can be Brad or Tad or Ricky Martin for the next hour." Now she thought about it, he did look a bit like a Ricky Martin. Same mussed up hair and sparkly eyes. "But you're not Aaron."

"I thought we were skipping last names."

Wise guy.

She raised her chin and started walking down the street. "Pick another name."

He coughed loudly and when she looked at him, jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Burger place is that way."

As she spun around and aimed a glare at him, he fell into step beside her. "What's wrong with Aaron?"

Fine. He didn't want to choose a name, she'd do it for him. "For the rest of this little social experiment, I'm calling you John."

"As in Doe?"

"As in, I could call you Dick."

"I'm good with John. Though, to be honest, if that dress was much shorter, I might be mistaken for one."

Talia stilled. "Are you suggesting I look like a hooker?"

He held up his hands. "A really high class one. The kind guys would mortgage their home to spend a night with."

When she scowled at him, he couldn't keep a straight face. "Kidding. Seriously. I don't have to pay for sex. I mean, c'mon, look at me. I wouldn't have made a pass at you at the bar if I thought you were a hooker. Even a high class one."

"I was wrong. You're not a Dick. You're an asshole." She started walking again. "Cos seriously, what kind of asshole chooses to have a burger and a chat when he could be back in that bar picking up a woman he doesn't have to pay for sex? Some bimbo who fell for that godawful lame line you fed me could be on her knees in a back alley right now, with your cock halfway down her throat."

"It takes more than that. You might not have a list of requirements, but I do."

She looked up at him from the corner of his eye. "And the ability to give good head isn't on it?"

"It's not the only thing on it."

"There's something wrong with you, isn't there?" She lifted a hand and counted off the plus points on her fingers. "You've supposedly got a good job, you're fairly easy on the eyes and you're obviously not gay, so what's the catch?"

"Fairly easy on the eyes?"

"Ducking the question?"

"You're asking why I'm not married." He took a short breath. "Okay, since we're doing the whole honesty thing. I don't need to be married or have kids or be in a steady relationship to be happy. If I meet someone I want to spend time with, who wants to spend time with me, we hook up."

"And if the woman you're with wants more?"

"She's with the wrong guy. All that stuff couples do - the arguments they get into over stuff that doesn't matter - doesn't interest me. I like my life the way it is."

Talia stared at him.

"Selfish, right? That's what you're thinking."

"No." She shrugged. "Just happens to be how I roll. I'm a no strings kinda gal. For me, it's all about the sex. I like sex. A lot. In fact, since we're being upfront here, if I was the least bit attracted to you, we'd fuck like rabbits. It's been a while for me. Too long a while, as it happens. I'm kinda starting to worry something might not be working right..." She lowered her hands and made an arrow point with her fingertips, directed between her thighs. "Down there..."

"I could check that out for you. Professionally speaking."

"You're hilarious."

"And you're not the least bit attracted to me?"

"Nope. I searched for a spark and I got nothing, nada. Not even a flicker."

"You're sure about that?"

"Positive."

"Hmmm..."

The pensive expression on his face made Talia stop, turn towards him and narrow her eyes. "What now?"

"I'm just gonna do this and get it out of the way. Then we won't spend the rest of our lives looking back on tonight and wondering what would have happened. You still feel nauseous?"

"No. Currently closer to confused."

"Okay. Good. Don't want you throwing up in my mouth." He grimaced as he stepped closer. "Total turn off. Even for a doctor."

Wait. Why would she throw up in his mouth?

He couldn't possibly be thinking about -

Without any further warning, he framed her face with his hands and pressed his mouth against hers. His lips were warm and firm and practiced and he used just the right amount of pressure and movement to draw a response. For a little while she resisted, choosing to let him try and studying her reaction like a voyeur. Then the tip of his nose brushed hers as he changed the angle and stepped it up, deepening the kiss and rousing her curiosity enough to make her kiss him back.

It had been so long since she kissed someone new, it took Talia a few moments to get past how different it felt to focus on her reaction. Kissing for the sake of kissing and not as a prelude to sex had previously been categorized alongside decaf coffee in her mind, as in completely pointless, why bother? But this wasn't bad. Not bad at all.

In fact, she was quite enjoying it.

She pictured them both naked, doing the same thing skin-to-skin. His hands sliding over her body, fingertips searching and caressing, his weight pressing down on her as her legs opened and her hips lifted and he pushed inside her.

Oh, yeah. Fantasizing helped. Always had, always would. A flutter of sensation in her abdomen underlined the fact that yes, everything was still working down there and under different circumstances, if they met a few months down the line, when her soon-to-be-ex's recriminations weren't still ringing in her ears, she would probably have sex with this guy. Filthy dirty, pornographic sex because she knew instinctively he liked it that way. Another thing they had in common.

He added a little tongue and it felt good. But did she really want to have sex with this guy, was she far enough over the stomach flu or was she, as he had suggested, trying to prove a point? She didn't know and that was bad.

When their lips parted, he raised his head and looked down at her as she opened her eyes. "Anything?"

"No," she lied. "You?"

"Nothing more than the usual cock-jerk reaction to kissing a beautiful woman." He dropped his arms to his sides, leaned back and raised his brows. "Huh. Okay. This is new. Doesn't usually take more than a hot body."

"Thanks," Talia smirked.

"No offense meant."

"None taken."

"Question, answered though, right?"

"Yes, it is."

He inclined his head in the direction they'd been heading. "Still want to have that burger with me?"

"Yes." They continued down the sidewalk. "Girl could die of hunger waiting for you to put it back in your pants."

The chuckle of deep laughter beside her made Talia smile. And she really was hungry. The thought of a fat, juicy burger with all the trimmings was almost orgasmic. "You're buying."

"If we're not going to fuck like rabbits, I believe the socially accepted norm is to go Dutch, friend."

"Just as well I wasn't out here searching for a soul mate," she commented dryly.

"If it's written in the stars, we'll accidentally bump into each other a few months from now and become genuine friends who can talk about anything and everything under the sun. No secrets. We'll get to know each other inside, out. Then we'll realize it's true men and women can't just be friends and we'll have sex. Fucking amazing sex, by the way, cos we're both spectacular in bed. And then, we'll fall head-over-heels in love, have a big misunderstanding, argue and think it's all over. But, ultimately, we'll get over it, confess our undying love and live happily-ever-after..."

Talia turned her head and stared at him in disbelief.

Was he for real?

When he burst out laughing, so did she.

Asshole. He almost had her there.

"You're a very funny guy, John," she informed him as they got to the burger place and he opened the glass door.

"Yup." He winked. "One of my many talents, Talia."

They stood and smiled at each other for a while, the sense of mutual understanding between them one Talia couldn't remember sharing with anyone else. At least, not so strongly. It was just the medicine she needed. She felt lighter and freer than she had for weeks. More like her old self. Maybe even a better version because she hadn't jumped his bones before the ink on the divorce papers dried.

"Feeling better?" he gently inquired in a low, rough voice with more warmth in what she could now see were chocolate brown eyes.

If he really was a doctor, she'd bet a kidney he was the kind little old ladies swooned over in their hospital beds.

"Much," she replied. And she meant it enough to add a rare, "Thank you."

"You're most very welcome." He bowed and swung an arm out to his side. "Your plastic table awaits, along with a menu of cholesterol-laden fare and side orders of saturated fat."

"Yum," She mock shivered with delight.

"I know, right? Who needs fancy restaurants and romantic candlelit dinners?"

"Not us," Talia said firmly.

"Not us," John agreed. "This is way more fun."

And it was.

They stuffed their faces and didn't care if he got ketchup on his chin or Talia felt the need to dip her fries in strawberry milkshake. They talked with their mouths full about everything from their best/worst hook-ups to favorite sexual positions, debated who would win in varying superhero fights, agreed the New York Giants were the best football team in the world and swapped hilarious stories about their friends love lives. And hours later, as they walked to the river and watched the sun come up over the skyscrapers of Manhattan, Talia started to regret having to say goodbye to him.

"You gonna forgive the girls?" John inquired.

"Probably."

"You should. We all need friends."

"Same gender friends," Talia amended. "Or gay ones if you're straight. And vice-versa. Obviously."

John nodded. "Best way to avoid thinking about sex."

"I haven't thought about it all night. Have you?"

"Not once. Apart from when we were discussing it."

"Or when that drunk college girl in the mini-skirt bent over to pick up the loose change she dropped..."

"Yeah," he mused wistfully. "I had some great times with cheerleaders back in the day."

"You told me that already."

"Not much I haven't told you."

"Same, here."

He turned ninety degrees from the metal railing they were leaning on and smiled when Talia mirrored the movement.

"Still got some secrets though, haven't you?"

"A few," Talia smiled back at him. "Girl's gotta have a little mystery to her, don't you think?"

Drawing in a long breath, he leaned closer and lowered his deep, rumbling baritone to a husky half-whisper. "I think, the guy you share those secrets with, will be the one you want to keep. And whoever he is, he better treat you right. Or he'll have me to deal with."

She snorted with derision. "Just as well it's never gonna happen. You'd have a hell of a time finding us in there."

When she inclined her head, he glanced across the river. "I'm like Batman," he stated with an impersonation of the caped-crusaders voice that made her chuckle. "Send up a signal and I'll kick his ass."

"You're screwed if he's Thor."

"Thor's not your type. Too chivalrous."

"Ooohhhh, but that hammer..."

"Not about the size of a guy's hammer, sweetheart. Got more to do with the nail he's pounding in."

Talia laughed out loud. He'd been making her do that all night.

She'd never had so much non-sexual fun.

In a synchronized move, they returned to the railing and shared a long moment of comfortable silence, their bodies barely a hair-width apart.

Fuck it. She was gonna do this.

"You wanna go get breakfast?"

John smiled and looked at her from the corner of his eye. "Your place or mine?"

"Forget it." Talia turned away from the railing with the intention of walking away. If he knew what a big thing it was for her to admit to herself that she wasn't ready for their brief encounter to end...

A large hand captured hers before she took a single step, long fingers threading through hers and squeezing tight.

He waited for her to look up at him before he downgraded his grip to something more intimate. "My place is a bodega two blocks over that does amazing breakfast burritos. Reckon you can get your feet back in those shoes?"

The silent amusement in his eyes knocked the wind out of her sails. Shoulders dropping, she glanced down at the shoes dangling from the fingers of her free hand, then back at his face as another smile tugged on the corners of his mouth.

"Not a chance. So, you're still on sharp object watch." She allowed him to keep hold of her hand as he led the way. "And you're still an asshole."

"You like me."

"Do not."

"Liar."

"I'll like you a whole heap less if you keep swinging my arm."

He swung it higher. "This arm?"

"Yes, that arm. The one you're going to dislocate." She laughed as it swung up to head height.

"S'okay. I can pop it back in."

"Stop." It took some juggling with her shoes but she managed to trap his hand between both of hers and tugged him to a halt. "I don't do arm swinging. And before you even think about it, I don't do skipping, either. You're only getting a pass on the hand holding because my feet hurt."

"Need a piggy-back?"

"In this dress?"

"I could probably manage a firefighter lift..."

"Not happening."

"You're no fun," he pouted.

"I'm buckets of fun and we both know it."

"Yeah, you kinda are." The statement was followed by an interminably long silence while he studied her intently.

It made Talia uncharacteristically squirmy. "What?"

"Want me to kiss you again? See if anything's changed?"

"No." Crap. That sounded hesitant.

John's eyes narrowed. "You sure about that?"

No. "Yes."

"Keep flirting with me and it's gonna happen sometime..."

"Keep flirting with me and you'll discover why I'm getting divorced..." she warned softly.

"You're getting divorced because you shouldn't have married him in the first place. We went over this. He wanted a white picket fence, a couple of kids and a dog. You weren't ready for that."

"I'll never be ready for that."

"Because of those secrets you keep," he surmised. "Someone hurt you real bad, didn't they? Did you know. even when you're laughing, there are shadows in your eyes? I can see them."

"Don't," she whispered with a small shake of her head.

When she released one hand, he held on tighter to the other. "As surprising as it probably is to both of us that I'm admitting this," he said. "I don't want to say goodbye yet, friend."

Every instinct Talia possessed was screaming back the fuck off but at the same time, she was drawn to him. There was more than a spark between them now. It had flickered into a flame. Stay with him much longer and there wasn't a single doubt in her mind they'd end up in bed. They were both inherently sexual creatures who couldn't stop flirting, even if they wanted to. And with him, she could have the casual, easy-going relationship that would never have made Aaron happy.

So, what was the problem? Because something was holding her back.

"We're still having breakfast," she said while she tried to figure it out.

"What are you doing for lunch?"

"Don't usually plan that far ahead."

"Then let's see how it goes."

It was a loaded suggestion. But surprisingly, she didn't feel the weight of it bearing down on her. Probably because she knew she could bail at any time.

She thought about the pact she'd made with her friends. How it was based on the theory they step out of their comfort zones. Then she thought about everything she'd told him in such a short space of time. He was like her in so many ways and that was part of the attraction. Knowing herself meant she knew him and vice-versa. Hence why he hadn't pushed her to talk about the shadows he saw in her eyes.

Aaron would have, if he'd seen them.

"Thinking about the pact you made with your friends now, aren't you?"

She smiled.

"Thought so." He sucked in a short breath. "Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't the whole point to go out there and take a chance on something new?"

"Yes, it was."

"This is new. For both of us."

"True," she agreed.

"So, baby steps. We'll have breakfast and aim for lunch. And if by lunch we've decided to aim for dinner and by dinner we have another go at that kiss and discover the nothing we felt the last time was a fluke, we'll discuss the possibility of regular hook-ups for sex. We bump nasties more than twice, we'll tell people we're going steady." He winked. "That should get your friends and my family off our backs."

Sounded doable to her. "Okay."

"Okay? Just like that? You're not gonna debate it with me?"

"We're both adverse to complicated, remember?"

"Seriously. You're the best female friend I've ever had."

"I'm the only female friend you've ever had and it won't count if we make it to the hook-ups discussion."

He grimaced. "Too late. I'm already thinking about sex."

"Damn. And you were doing so well."

"I know, right? I blame your magnificent tits."

Talia pushed them forwards and looked down at her cleavage, adding a little shimmy for effect. "They are magnificent, aren't they?"

"They really are."

When she looked up, she discovered he was staring at them.

His gaze lifted. "You made me look."

"Pervert."

"You have no idea. I'm into all kinds of kinky stuff." He sighed. "But we're still in the friend zone, so get moving. Breakfast is calling. And no shimmying, shaking your booty or verbal foreplay 'til lunchtime, you hear?"

"Yes doctor. Whatever you say doctor." A thought occurred to her as they walked. "Hey, you never said. Have you ever had sex on an exam table?"

"Not since Med School."

"Was it with a cadaver?"

"And now she's hilarious."

"You said you were into all kinds of kinky..."

"I'm gonna swing your arm now."

He did. And just like that, she was laughing again.

Then it hit her. She was happy. Genuinely, unmistakably happy and it felt great.

Almost as good as sex.

As the arm swinging slowed, she realized John had appeared in her life just when she need him to. He'd lifted her out of the funk she'd been in and, even if it was only as far as dinner and the promise of another kiss, made her look forwards, instead of back. It was a gift Aaron couldn't give her because, albeit without knowing, he was too closely entangled in a past she'd like to forget but never would. There was a fine, but unbreakable thread between the girl she used to be and the woman she was now. Who she wanted to be in the future? Well, she hadn't quite figured that out yet.

Maybe John could help her.

Looking up at him from the corner of her eye, she didn't question the danger of getting any more involved with him than she already was. She simply liked that he was there and wanted to be there with him. And if they could live in the moment, minute by minute, the way they were now...

When he looked at her and grinned, Talia giggled. Giggled. Like a fucking schoolgirl. Had she ever done that before? She honestly couldn't remember.

The kid couldn't have been right, could she? Was it really that simple?

Time would tell. But what mattered most was, for the first time in her life, Talia was open to what came next. It might not be what Callie had in mind when she initiated the Passion Pact. But it was possible that maybe, just maybe, when she'd least expected it, Talia had found her version of happily-ever-after.

THANKS FOR READING!

I hope you enjoyed this introduction to The Passion Pact.

If you'd like to find out what happened next to Callie, Avery, Beth and Talia, the first book in the series is Only Oscar.

To whet your appetite, there's an excerpt on the next page...

Excerpt from 'Only Oscar'

~ Book one in the Passion Pact series

The next time Callie saw Talia, she was going to kick her ass. She couldn't believe she'd looked at Oscar's crotch. Who did that? And to make matters worse, he saw her look. To say things had been awkward between them since they left her apartment would be a massive understatement. It was only a matter of time before he demanded an explanation and he had a right to one, too. She'd practically assaulted him with her eyes. He probably felt the need to go and scrub himself down.

In order to avoid the subject for as long as possible as they exited the subway station and walked along the crowded sidewalk towards Macy's, she asked, "Have you heard from Princess Perky?"

"No," he replied a little absentmindedly. "Why?"

"Do you miss her?"

"I'm not crying into my pillow at night if that's what you're worried about." He shot a glance at her from the corner of his eye. "Why?"

Callie shrugged a shoulder. "Just curious..."

They continued walking, the lack of their usual ease with each other making her more aware of his presence than usual. He wasn't much taller than her when she wore heels, but in sneakers the extra five inches was more noticeable. She was more aware of his proportions, too; the width of his shoulders, the breadth of his chest. Oscar had always been solid rather than chunky but now he looked lean.

Had he lost weight?

"You didn't like her," he said.

"Doesn't matter what I thought."

"That's not true and you know it."

"I never pay any attention to what you think about the guys I date."

"And look where it's got you."

Callie flinched. Ouch.

Next time she glanced at him, he had his head tilted back and was focused on the strip of cloudless sky between the tall buildings in a way which suggested he was praying for patience from above. He drew in a long breath which lifted his chest beneath the material of his charcoal sweater while the light highlighted the vivid blue of his eyes and made the contrast with his thick dark lashes more noticeable.

She'd always thought he had nice eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said. "That was harsh."

"True, though."

The silence returned as they continued walking through the crowd, adopting the typical New Yorker attitude of sticking to a straight line, forcing everyone else to get out of their way. Places to go, people to see, no time to stop and take in any of the iconic sights. It was an indication of how far they'd come since they moved to the city.

After another couple of minutes, Oscar sighed heavily. "You gonna tell me what's going on at any point or are we spending the rest of the day trying to avoid it?"

"There's not–" She made the mistake of looking at him again and missed what was right in front of her.

Oscar's automatic reaction was to reach out and lay a palm on the inward curve of her spine to guide her around the obstacle. She barely noticed what it was–a pushchair, maybe? – while her increased awareness of him added an extra weight and warmth to his touch. It made her jump, heat spreading from his palm, seeping through her T-Shirt and into her veins. Her startled gaze flew to his as they both stilled and his arm dropped to his side. Then he frowned and turned towards her.

"Okay, that's it," he stated firmly. "We're not moving from here 'til you tell me what's going on."

Callie angled her head to their left.

"He might have something to say about that."

There was a guy dressed as the Statue of Liberty standing on a box beside them; a tin for tips at their feet.

Oscar reached into his pocket, produced ten bucks and waggled it in front of the guy's face. "I'm renting this spot for a few. That should cover it." He dropped the money in the tin and pinned Callie with a sharp gaze. "You're up. Start talking."

She shifted her weight from one sneaker clad foot to the other.

"It's nothing, really."

"It's something. You've been checking me out. You never check me out. And don't deny it. I'm not blind."

"I..." Where to begin? As she searched for the right place, she caught sight of an amused smile twitching the corner of a painted mouth. "We're not the floor show here, Mister. Keep eavesdropping and I'm taking his ten bucks back."

"Stop stalling," Oscar's voice said.

She pressed her lips together to stop anything slipping out before she had time to rehearse it in her head. Oscar being Oscar he would undoubtedly list all the pitfalls the girls had pointed out in her plan.

But she'd won them round and there'd been three of them.

"Callie."

"Alright, fine," she replied with irritation. "I was checking you out."

"Why?"

"Blame Talia," she mumbled.

"What?"

She sucked in a long, fortifying breath and explained, "Talia had this bright idea I should look at you like you're some guy I just met, to see... you know..."

"No." The word came out on a short burst of sarcastic laughter. "I don't. Is this some kind of practical joke?"

For a second, she wished it was one of the stupid pranks they used to pull on each other before they grew up. Things had been so much simpler when they were kids. Oh, who was she kidding? They'd been simpler a half hour ago.

"More of an experiment..."

It was the wrong thing to say, she could tell from the dark cloud that crossed his face and immediately rushed to undo the damage. "She's obviously one of those people who think men and women can't be friends. I said she was being ridiculous–I mean we've known each other forever, right?"

"She's hardly the first person to bring it up," Oscar commented. "Our moms' have been like dogs with bones on the subject since we were in Little League."

"I know. And it's never gonna happen, we both know that –"

"But? Cos there's one coming, isn't there?"

Callie grimaced. "But I couldn't get them on board until I agreed to check there wasn't a spark between us. I had to make sure you aren't it."

"Spark...it..." He blinked, obviously finding it difficult to keep up. "On board to do what, exactly...?"

"Be pro-active about hunting down our Mr. Right's."

"Let me get this straight. You were checking me out for the position of your Mr. Right?" The question was asked slowly and carefully, like he was talking to someone who didn't speak English, and with an undertone of incredulity.

"No. Well, technically yes. But it wasn't my idea." She continued as he turned his head and looked at her from the corner of his eye, "See, I said we needed to be more pro-active about our love lives, figure out exactly what it is we need so we can go out there and search for it..."

"Isn't that what everyone does?"

"Not actively. Most people just flounder around hoping they'll recognize it when it appears."

When she didn't go any further, Oscar lifted his arm and made a circling motion with his forefinger. "Keep going."

"Well, I came up with a plan..."

"Of course, you did."

"And the conversation kind of drifted around to the obstacles we all put in the way." Callie stopped, frowned and looked to her left. "Seriously?" she asked the living statue. "There's not enough reality T.V. in the world for you?"

"What kind of obstacles?" Oscar asked.

She aimed a look of warning at their audience before she replied. "Like Avery hasn't dated in forever and Beth has this weird idea about sex being available to order like take-out food – no muss, no fuss, no complications, that kind of thing - and Talia, well, y'know, she has the whole Aaron problem..."

"And me. I'm your obstacle."

"Talia seems to think so," Callie admitted.

His eyes narrowed. "Her solution to this problem involves more than you checking me out, doesn't it?"

Since Oscar had met Talia, it was no great surprise he'd jumped to the right conclusion. "She thinks I should sleep with you."

"Of course, she does." His jaw tightened. "Don't suppose I get a say in it? I'm just supposed to play along with this little," he raised both hands to make invisible speech marks in the air with his fingers, "experiment?"

If she didn't know better, Callie would have said his feelings were hurt. But as hare-brained as some of her great schemes may have been in the past, Oscar knew she would never use him to prove a point. Not that way.

"That woman is a piece of work," he said. "I never got what Aaron saw in her."

Really? Callie blinked. She thought it was pretty obvious. Everywhere they went guys looked at Talia before they noticed there was another woman in the room. "She's not that bad. You've never got to know her. And she made some valid points."

"Like?"

She shrugged and wedged her fingertips into what little space there was in the back pockets of her skinny jeans. "Our relationship could be misinterpreted by other people. Potential partners might find it off-putting."

"Hasn't stopped either of us dating," he countered.

"No, but it's not like either of us have gone steady for long, is it?"

Oscar sighed impatiently. "So, the first step in this great plan of yours was to eliminate me from the running."

Close enough. Callie nodded.

"And then what? We stop seeing each other?"

"No."

She was shocked he'd gone there, particularly when her fear of losing him was part of the reason she'd been so keen to take control of her love life in the first place.

"That's the thing with obstacles, Cal." His deep voice lowered to the soft rumble he always used when he was breaking bad news to her, or told her something he knew she didn't want to hear. "If that's what you're calling them, you obviously think they're standing in your way."

Only Oscar is available from all the usual E-Book outlets.
BOOKS BY TRISH WYLIE:

The Passion Pact

Mostly Married

Only Oscar

Just Josh

The Brannigan Family

The Inconvenient Laws Of Attraction

New York's Finest Rebel

Her Man In Manhattan

The Fitzgeralds

His Mistress, His Terms

Claimed By The Billionaire Bad Boy

Stand-Alone Books

One Night With The Rebel Billionaire

The Millionaire's Proposal

O'Reilly's Bride

Check out her full backlist at http://www.trishwylie.com
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Irish author, Trish Wylie, lives close to the border between the beautiful Counties of Fermanagh and Donegal in the north west of Ireland with her four-legged family. She has written more than twenty books for Harlequin Mills & Boon, is a triple winner of the Romantic Times Reviewers choice award and was a finalist in the HOLT, EPPIE, Booksellers Best, Golden Quill and Write Touch Readers Awards.

Trish loves hearing from readers! If you'd like to drop her a line, you can connect with her online via:

Facebook: https:// www.facebook.com/ trish.wylie

Twitter: https:// twitter.com/ TrishWylie

Email: trish_wylie@hotmail.com

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS:

First up, a HUGE THANKS to my fellow PHS editors, Ali Williams, Robyn Rychards and Maya Kesh, for their editing and critiquing skills. You guys call me on all the stupid, praise me for any rare moments of genius and laugh in all the right places. What you contribute to my work is priceless and I love you for it.

Next up, as always, are my family and friends. For never letting me quit on my dreams, for kicking my ass when it's needed, listening for endless hours when I talk about the emotional dilemmas of imaginary people and for pretending you can see the bazillion teeny tiny changes I make to a book cover before I release it into the wild, I will love you forever. No-one ever had a better support crew.

And last, but by no means least, thank you, dear reader. Without you, I wouldn't be living the dream of being a writer. Your continued support, enthusiasm and the gentle prods to get me to write more (and faster!) is why I keep sitting at the keyboard on the days words are hard to find. You ROCK.

