Perfect Fling (2 page)

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

Until last night.

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

Cole Sanders.

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

A
one-night stand
.

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

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

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

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

Although their parents were good friends, Erin didn’t know Cole well. Nobody did, not anymore. Not even her brother Mike, who had been one of his closest pals, though Mike seemed concerned since Cole’s return. Cole’s father had been her dad’s deputy chief of police until last year when Jed retired, but Jed Sanders never spoke of his son.

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

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

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

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

Breathe,
she silently ordered herself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I meant you were gutsy in bed.”

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

“Thank you,” she said, immediately horrified. Had she really just said that?

That earned her a sexy grin she’d never forget.

“Back to my original point. We go way back. So no, I didn’t expect you to sneak out,” he said. “Regrets?” he asked, surprising her with both the question and the suddenly defensive edge to his voice.

She immediately shook her head. “None.” It saddened her that he’d think she’d have them.

Not that it surprised her. No one in town had welcomed him with open arms, and if anyone found out about last night, they’d think she’d lost her mind. And if her brothers discovered her secret . . . She refused to go there. If regret hadn’t kicked in yet, she doubted it would. And she wouldn’t want him to think she was embarrassed that she’d slept with him.

“You surprise me,” he admitted, studying her intently. “And I didn’t think there was much left in this world that could.”

He sounded as if he’d seen and done too much in his lifetime. A part of her wanted to reach out and soothe his hidden pain. But before she could dissect her thoughts or, heaven forbid, act on them, he spoke.

“But your instincts about me were right on. I’m not much for long, drawn-out morning-afters.”

Disappointment stabbed her in the heart, and
that
was too dangerous to even contemplate for long. “Glad to know I’m still on my game,” she said, forcing flippancy when she felt anything but.

Now that it was time to say good-bye, it wasn’t just awkward; it hurt a little more than she’d imagined it would. Which was what she got for thinking she could handle a one-night stand with a guy she’d always had somewhat of a thing for. No matter how young she’d been at the time.

“Since it was just a one-night stand, you won’t have to worry about a repeat performance.” She tossed the words as flippantly as she could manage.

“Pity,” he murmured.

She jerked in surprise.

Just as she was wondering if she had the nerve to ask him to turn around so she could get dressed, he flipped the covers off himself and rose from the bed—stark, gloriously naked.

All thoughts fled from her brain. She tried to swallow and choked instead, ending up with another blush as she continued to cough until the spasm passed.

“And that just confirms why it has to be one night only,” he muttered low, obviously more to himself than to her.

Erin hated puzzles and enigmas. “What does that mean?” she asked.

“Erin, honey, in a world where nothing and no one is what they seem, you’re real. And that makes you dangerous.”

“More riddles,” she told him.

He ignored her. Strolling over to the dresser, he opened a drawer and tossed her a pair of drawstring sweats and a faded gray T-shirt. “Here. You’ll be more comfortable—not to mention less conspicuous—leaving in these.”

She swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

He gestured to the open door in the corner. “Bathroom’s there. Towels for the shower are in one of the drawers. Take your time,” he said, and padded toward the small kitchen not far away in this small apartment. Nude. Clearly he was a man comfortable in his own skin.

She shook her head, pushing away all thoughts unconnected to the rush to shower, dress, and leave. Any emotions or lingering feelings could wait until she was alone. At which point she’d do her customary internal summarizing of events and tuck this episode away in her memory banks for safekeeping, never to be revisited again—except on long, lonely nights when it was just her and her vibrator. Because everything inside her knew, despite his brush-off and surly attitude this morning, Cole had set the bar way too high for any man who came after him.

And Erin had already set it pretty damned high on her own.

THREE MONTHS LATER . . .

If this case didn’t end soon, Erin would either pass out on the desk in front of the judge, the jury, and the entire courtroom or she’d throw up on her brand-new shoes. It was a toss-up which would happen first. Judge White, whose hair matched his name, droned on with jury instructions, while for Erin, the next twenty minutes passed in a blur of nausea and exhaustion. Finally she heard the blessed sound of the gavel adjourning them for the day and she dropped her head to the table with a thud.

“Don’t worry, I took notes on everything the judge said and there wasn’t anything we didn’t anticipate or I’d have objected,” Trina Lewis, Erin’s second chair for this trial, assured her.

“Thanks,” Erin mumbled into the desk.

“Come on. Let’s get you out of here. Bathroom before we go home?”

Erin forced her head up. “Yeah. Please.”

Trina had already gathered Erin’s things and put them into her bag and together they walked out of the courtroom. To her relief, most everyone had already left, so she didn’t need to deal with people.

“Erin, umm, can I talk to you?” Trina asked as she pushed open the door to the ladies’ room and they stepped inside.

“Of course.”

Trina had been working in the D.A.’s office for the last two years and she was close to Erin’s age, and as the only two female lawyers, she and Erin had become friends. There was no professional jealousy between them—Trina was Erin’s escape from the male posturing when she needed one, and vice versa. Along with Macy Donovan, she made up the threesome for their nights at Joe’s, trips to the movies, and girls’ nights at home, which had also included Alexa Collins prior to the other woman’s move to Texas.

Before speaking, Trina checked underneath the stall doors to make sure they were empty. Ever since Lyle Gordon, the lazy bastard who just happened to be the defense attorney on their current case, had posted his paralegal in here to overhear anything that could help him win, Erin and Trina were extra careful about where they spoke and in front of whom.

“All clear,” Trina said.

“What’s up?” Erin turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on her face.

“Don’t you think this is the longest stomach virus in the history of the world?” Trina ripped a paper towel from the dispenser and handed it to Erin.

“It’s getting better,” Erin lied.

“No, it’s not. You’ve been sick for weeks.”

Erin didn’t argue. She’d run the gamut, from thinking she had food poisoning, to the flu, to a long-lasting virus.

“You’ve missed more mornings of work and left early more times than in all the years I’ve known you.”

Erin shot Trina a wry glance. “That’s a whole two years.” But she got the point. Even her boss, Evan Carmichael, had begun to question her absences and illness with concern, and Evan rarely noticed anything . . . except Evan.

“Anyway, while you were sipping tea in the hallway during lunch, I ran out to the pharmacy and bought you this.” Trina held out a brown paper bag.

Erin narrowed her gaze, cautiously accepting the bag. “What’s in it?” She didn’t wait for Trina to answer, peeking instead. “A pregnancy test?” Erin shrieked before slapping her hand over her own mouth.

True, she hadn’t had her period, but she’d attributed the lack thereof to work-related stress. Not once had she connected her illness to being pregnant.

“Hey, it’s possible,” Trina said.

“Are you kidding me? We’ve been working twenty-four seven for I don’t know how long. I can’t remember the last time I used my battery-operated friend, never mind had a real man.”

“Liar,” Trina said for the second time.

Erin scowled at her friend. They both knew she remembered the exact last time she’d had sex, and Erin recalled every perfect, muscular inch of Cole Sanders and their night together.