All Night Woman: A Contemporary Romance (2 page)

It was a valid point.  Miles travelled all over the world, and didn’t make a habit of providing a detailed itinerary to anyone besides his personal assistant.  It wasn’t that he was being secretive; just that no one ever asked. 

“So what’s up?”

There was the briefest of pauses on the other end before Adam said, “I’m getting married.”

Miles almost dropped the phone.  “Excuse me?”

“Do they have shitty reception over there in England or something?”

“The reception is just fine, but I think I might need to go in for a hearing check.  I could have sworn you just said you were getting married.”

“Your hearing is fine.”

A different kind of unease settled into his stomach.  Barely a month had passed since he’d last spoken with his brother, and Adam had been in a much darker place then.  Adam hadn’t shown at the requisite family dinner at their parents’, and Brandon had been stubbornly close-lipped about it, saying only that Adam was ‘working through some stuff’.

The fact that Brandon hadn’t confided the details had stung a little.  Brandon and Adam had always been close, but they were even more so now.  Yeah, Adam had been there for Brandon through Miles’ marriage troubles, and was there for him now, but it still chafed a bit. 
He
was Brandon’s father, even if Adam had done a far better job of acting the part the last few years. 

“Brandon didn’t say anything.”

“You’ve talked to him lately?” Adam asked, probably knowing full well he hadn’t.  Miles meant to call every week or so, but it rarely worked out that way.  Between his job and the constant travel it required, time zone issues, and Brandon’s busy schedule, there just never seemed to be a good time for a chat.

“Not since Christmas,” Miles admitted, letting the all-too-familiar guilt grab hold.  “Guess things have changed a bit since then.”

“Yeah.”

Miles waited for Adam to say more, but he didn’t.  It wasn’t a surprise, really.  Adam wasn’t the type to talk about personal issues - he was definitely more of a doer than a talker - and he hadn’t looked to his older brother as a sounding board for years.  Sometimes the eight years that separated them felt more like a lifetime.  There was no need to get into that now, though. 

“So when’s the big day?”

“We haven’t set a date yet, but it can’t come soon enough for me.”

Miles asked the all-important question.  “Is she pregnant, Adam?”

A heavy sigh on the other end.  “No.”

“Fair enough,” Miles said evenly, tossing back the last of the quality Scotch.  He would definitely be pouring another.  “Tell me when and where and I’ll try to make it.”

“Well, that’s kind of why I’m calling.  I’d like you to be my best man.”

Miles stilled, his hand closing over the bottle of Highlander Honey.  When the initial shock passed, he finally said, “What did you say?”

Adam laughed, a deep rumble that sounded so much like their father’s.  “Maybe you really should get your hearing checked.  I said I want you to be my best man.”

“Why?”  The question popped out before he could stop it.  He clamped his mouth shut and held his breath while he waited for Adam’s response. 

“Because you are my brother, Miles.”

“Yeah,” Miles agreed, his voice slightly rougher than it had been only a few minutes ago.  “Yeah, I am.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“Will you do it?”

Miles wiped his hand down his face, feeling a bit shaken.  “Yeah, sure.  Give me some lead time, though, alright?  I’m travelling all over and –“

“I know,” Adam interrupted.  “That’s why I’m telling you now.  No excuses, Miles.  I’m counting on you.”

L
iz adjusted the water temperature until it was just shy of unbearable, then poured in a handful of milk and honey-scented crystals.  A hot soak with a good read was her favorite way of escaping reality.  Remembering what had happened the last time she tried to indulge, she kept the aromatic candles out of immediate reach.  A tattered Navy SEAL anthology was placed within reach as well, along with a couple of fluffy towels and a small glass of heart-healthy red wine. 

Lights sufficiently dimmed, she slipped out of her clothes and climbed in, sinking down into the oversized tub until the water line rose just above her breasts.  The Jacuzzi was the primary reason she had purchased this particular condo unit.   Some of the others had better views or more space, but they couldn’t compete with twelve powerful, pulsating jets.  Experiences such as this were as close to utter hedonism as Liz ever came (though that long weekend in Curacao came damn close).

She settled herself in, letting the silky heat envelop her tired and aching muscles.  She had run close to five miles today, a personal best.  Of course, she wouldn’t have made it that last mile if she hadn’t managed to catch occasional glimpses of Troy running in front of her, wearing those lovely butt-hugging sweats.

She sighed, remembering the view.  It
had
been nice.  Long legs, nicely muscled, tight tush angling up into wide (but not too wide) shoulders.  Liz had been surreptitiously watching out for him since first spotting him on the trail a few weeks ago, and finally had his schedule pegged.  So what if her weekend run just happened to coincide with his?   

The weather hadn’t been very conducive to outdoor running lately, but that was January in Pennsylvania.  It seemed as though every weekend another winter storm was leaving just enough snow and ice to make anything more than a snail’s pace hazardous; it was a frustrating seven-day cycle that repeatedly sabotaged her “coincidental” socializing efforts. 

It should not have to be this hard, she mused, sinking further into the fragrant water.  Why was it so difficult to find a decent guy?  One who was interested in more than just a casual hook-up?  All she wanted was a mature, handsome, well-built man with a good job, charm, class, and intelligence.

Was that too freaking much to ask for? 

Apparently it was.  Once you passed the thirty mark, the odds of finding a worthy man all but disappeared.  Whoever said all the good ones were either gay or taken really knew what she was talking about.

But while the good prospects were few and far between, Liz still held out some hope.  Holly got lucky with Adam, after all.  And today
had
shown some promise.  The sun actually peeked through the dismal gray cloud cover, raising the temperature to a balmy forty-two, and the sidewalks and pathways had been clear enough to facilitate something more than a cautious walking pace.  And, after that last loop around the park, when she had been stretching (rather provocatively), Troy had finally noticed her. 

It hadn’t been a fireworks or heart-stopping, love-at-first-sight kind of encounter, but he
had
nodded and offered her a stunning half-smile as he did the requisite male perusal up and down the length of her form.  She had smiled back, then taken off before he could approach her.

It was all part of this ridiculous game they had to play.  There were definite guidelines, and rule number one was
Don’t Make It Too Easy
.  The guy had to feel like he was the hunter, not the hunted, no matter what the truth of the matter was.

Now sufficiently warmed, Liz extended her leg and pressed her toe against the control pad to turn on the jets.  She realized her mistake a moment later when the water shot up and over her like a fire hose, dousing the wall behind her and covering the floor before she could turn it off.  Damn it!  She knew better than to turn on the jets without checking to ensure the valves were pointing downward and the intensity set to low.

She pulled herself out of the tub with a few muttered curses, hastily wiped down the wall and commode, then placed a few towels down on the floor to soak up the puddle that had formed there.  She would get the rest later, after the hot water and ibuprofen kicked in.

Liz climbed back in, turning the faucet back on to replace some of the water she had so carelessly wasted.  Readjusting her inflatable microfiber bath pillow, she settled back and opened up the paperback.  She’d picked this one especially because the shirtless, eight-packed SEAL on the cover resembled Troy a little.  She was barely through the first chapter when a moderate, vibrating hum sounded around her.

“What the hell?” she muttered.  She hadn’t turned the jets back on (but she had adjusted the nozzles).  Maybe a helicopter was flying low outside the building or something.  That happened often enough, as Covendale fell right along the flight path of two military bases.  But when the sound continued steadily after several minutes, Liz was forced to reconsider.

She sank down a little deeper and tried to ignore it, but it was next to impossible.  The hum was just on the wrong side of annoying, similar to the sound air makes when released slowly from a balloon.  The longer it went on, the more bothersome it became.

After re-reading the same page several times, she sighed heavily and put the paperback aside.  Once again Liz exited the tub, hastily wrapping a semi-damp towel around herself.  It was hard to tell exactly where the noise was coming from – it sounded close, and yet not.  She checked under the vanity, thinking that maybe her vibrator had somehow come to life (wasn’t that a happy thought?), but a quick look assured her it was just as cold and still as ever. 

She turned off the bathroom fan, thinking maybe something had come loose, but that wasn’t it, either.  Dripping and puzzled, Liz made her way around her condo, checking each room, listening around the major appliances, putting her ear against every door and window, but the sound grew increasing faint the farther away from the tub she moved.

Heading back to the bathroom, she stopped and listened yet again.  There!  It was coming from the tub.  But how?  Liz got down on her hands and knees, pressing her ear up against the side where the jet motor should be.  Nope.  The noise was coming from
inside
the tub.

Liz peered into the clear water warily.  Still nothing.  She stepped back in and moved her foot around until she hit the drainage plug and the sound stopped.  Foot off, hum.  Foot on, no hum.  Feeling like an idiot, Liz reached down and twisted the plug to tighten the cap around the rubber rim.

Problem solved.

Feeling proud of herself for identifying the problem, and infinitely glad no one else was here to witness it, Liz tried again.  “Third time’s a charm,” she murmured to herself, carefully easing back into the now-tepid water.  Using her big toe, she flicked on the tub jets, smiling when the water stayed in the tub this time, and picked up the paperback.   

* * *

M
iles smiled broadly and shook hands with the senior British executive.  Capturing this contract was a major score for him and his company; it would greatly increase their presence in the European marketplace.

He partook of the fine Scotch offered him, but declined the invitation to extend his stay for the additional celebratory activities, citing a need to return to the States to attend to a personal matter.  It was something he had been considering ever since Adam’s rather shocking phone call, but it was this morning’s unexpected run-in with the skilled brunette lying in wait outside his room that had prompted him to leave London sooner rather than later.

How was he supposed to have known that Lisette was the CEO’s only daughter?  She certainly hadn’t mentioned it.  Then again, they really hadn’t talked much.

Thankfully, the chief exec didn’t seem aware of their single-night tryst.  If he was, he probably wouldn’t have been quite so keen on introducing the two of them over the expensive, catered lunch in the board room. 

And if the man knew exactly what Miles had done to his daughter, he would probably be brandishing a lethal weapon and waving it menacingly at Miles, rather than offering his hand and a wide smile.

The brunette was smiling, too, but the look in her eyes was entirely different.  The hair on the back of Miles’ neck started to tingle, and he knew, without a doubt, that she was hoping for an encore.    The woman was attractive enough and dynamite in the sack, but that’s all.  Since his divorce, Miles was a confirmed bachelor, and nothing – not even a multi-million dollar contract – was going to change that.

The clean getaway he’d hoped for, however, was not to be. 

“Do you really have to leave?” Lisette purred against his ear, after she slipped into the elevator at the last minute.  The doors had barely closed before she had plastered herself against him.  The feel of her very capable hands roaming beneath his suit jacket and latching onto his backside left no doubt that she wished to convince him to delay his departure.

“Yes, I’m afraid I do,” he replied calmly, gently disengaging her hands and holding them lest she try to grab him somewhere else.  Just because he wasn’t interested didn’t mean he was incapable of responding, and she might misconstrue his physical response.  One head had a completely different reaction to Lisette than the other and females, he’d found, didn’t quite seem to understand that.  Compared to women, men were instinctual, primitive creatures, with simple needs.  He didn’t have to actually
like
a woman for his dick to get hard when she groped him.

“Family emergency,” he added.

Her eyes softened.  “Oh, what a pity.  Nothing too serious, I hope?”

“Quite serious,” Miles said somberly as the doors opened up on the ground floor.  “My brother went and got himself engaged.”

Leaving a bemused Lisette staring after him, Miles took the opportunity and made a beeline for the door without glancing back.

Two hours later he was on a flight leaving Heathrow and bound for the States.  He leaned back in his first-class seat and gifted the pretty young attendant with a smile and a wink.

He felt not the least bit guilty doing so; the transatlantic flight would be much more pleasant if he engaged in a little harmless flirting.  For some reason, God had gifted him with a face and general physique that women found pleasing.  What he might lack in substance, he more than made up for in aesthetics.  Granted, those same aesthetics were what usually got him into trouble, but he had to work with what he had, and in his business, image was everything.