A Perfect Strategy. Anna Sugden
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he wanted from dating, or whatever the hell this situation was called, but he knew he wanted to be more than an itch to be scratched whenever she was in town. However much fun that might be.
Still, he hesitated. Maybe over time he could convince her to change her mind.
No. He cut off that idea ruthlessly. He wouldn’t make the mistake of being led into something he didn’t want because of great sex again. Better to make a clean break. Pull off the bandage and take the hit.
Scott shoved his fingers through his hair. “Then I guess this is goodbye.”
Disappointment flashed in her blue eyes, making him want to snatch back his words. But he held firm.
She nodded once. “Your breakfast will be getting cold.”
“Can’t let good food go to waste.” He leaned down and pressed a hot, hard kiss to her lips, stealing one last taste. Then he turned and sauntered to the balcony. “Safe travels.”
He lifted one of the covers and breathed in the smell of bacon, hoping to replace her scent, which lingered in his nostrils. It didn’t work.
“Thanks. Good luck, Scotty.”
He didn’t watch her leave, choosing instead to focus on pouring maple syrup on a stack of pancakes.
When the door snicked shut, he set down the bottle and slumped onto a chair.
Scott sat for a long time, wondering how something so wonderful had gone so wrong. When he finally shook off the introspective mood, his stomach turned at the sight of the congealing breakfast. Like the arena horn sounding the end of a game, it signaled the end of the weekend.
Time to move on. Tomorrow was another day...and all the other crap he’d cited to himself after tough losses.
He rose, grabbed his jacket and, with one final look around the room, strode out the door.
* * *
“SO WHO WAS the lucky guy and did you have a fabulous time?”
Sapphie hesitated before answering Issy’s question. She wasn’t sure what to say about the weekend with Scotty—especially the awkward, unsatisfactory way it had ended—and she knew her best friend wouldn’t settle for anything glib.
Thankfully, the waitress in the airline’s first-class lounge stopped to ask if Sapphie would like anything to eat.
“Hold on a sec, Issy.” She smiled at the waitress. “I’d love a club sandwich and a glass of Pinot Grigio. Thank you.” She returned to the phone conversation. “Sorry, but I’ve been on the go since Marty called this morning and this is the first chance I’ve had to eat something other than an in-flight packet of pretzels.”
“No wonder you stay slim,” Issy said. “I’d have gnawed the seat in front of me.”
“Trust me, you wouldn’t have if you’d seen the man in that seat. He was the epitome of an aging lothario, from his coiffed hair to his shiny suit and patent shoes, with lifts. Not to mention the eye-watering cologne.”
“Eww. Even your description of him is enough to put me off my food.”
Sapphie laughed. “This life isn’t as glamorous as you think.”
“You sat a couple of seats away from Aidan Turner last month.”
“And he was very charming.”
“Speaking of charming, you never said who whisked you away from the reception. I know it wasn’t Taylor. He left early, too, but he was alone.”
“What happened? He sent a text saying the night was a disaster, but I haven’t had the chance to catch up with him.” After arriving from New Jersey, she’d rushed to her apartment in Chicago to switch suitcases before heading back to O’Hare for her flight to LA.
“From what I understand, there was some macho male posturing between Taylor and Lizzie’s date, which turned into shoving. One of them knocked into a waiter carrying a tray of drinks—which the date ended up wearing.”
Sapphie winced. “Poor Mad Dog.” That hadn’t worked out quite as he’d planned.
“Lizzie was embarrassed and gave him a piece of her mind. He stormed out of the party. You missed all the fun. But then, I’m guessing you were having your own fun.”
She might as well tell her, before Issy applied the thumbscrews. “I was.” Sapphie paused, then said in a rush, “With Scotty Matthews.”
There was a moment of stunned silence. “As in the recently retired Ice Cats captain?”
“The very same.”
Issy giggled. “If I wasn’t a happily married woman, I’d be so jealous. That’s even better than your Aidan Turner story. Scotty Matthews is totally and utterly H-O-T.”
Sapphie rolled her eyes. “I don’t think my goddaughter is old enough to understand hot, let alone in that context.”
“I’m not so sure. The way she batted her eyelashes at all the Ice Cats at our reception has J.B. threatening to lock her up until she’s fifty.”
“To protect her from guys like him. Or rather, how he used to be.” The hotshot hockey star had been a real ladies’ man before he’d fallen in love with Issy. “No wonder he’s concerned. She’s inherited his charm, as well as his good looks.”
“Excuse me. Her good looks came from my side of the family.”
“Of course they did.”
“Speaking of gorgeous, Scotty has that whole handsome, brooding, hidden-depths thing going on. I bet he’s intense in bed.”
Desire tugged deep in her belly. “He’s very...focused. Single-minded.”
“Ooh, that’s a delicious thought.”
The memory was making Sapphie’s body hum with need. She tamped it down, then changed the subject. “Anyway, Marty wants me in LA for a meeting. Apparently, something big is going down. If it’s another acquisition, it could result in a major new contract.”
“That’s great. I’m so proud of you. We’ll have to celebrate when you’re next in Jersey.” Issy paused. “But what aren’t you telling me about Scotty?”
Damn it. Sapphie should have known Issy wouldn’t let the subject drop so easily. “Nothing.”
“Uh-huh. What’s the opposite of ‘the lady doth protest too much’? You’re not normally so close lipped about your dates. Did he turn into a jerk when the weekend was over?”
“Of course not.” Sapphie couldn’t blame Scotty for how he’d reacted. She’d gone about the goodbye all wrong.
It hadn’t been deliberate. She’d been swimming in unfamiliar waters and gotten scared. Instead of being cool, calm and collected, she’d blustered her way through it. And screwed up royally.
It had started going belly-up when she’d awoken, wrapped in Scotty’s arms—his body curved around hers, her butt cradled in his groin, their legs entwined and his hand cupping her breast. The heat from his bare skin had seared the length of her body. And she’d loved it. She’d snuggled closer and savored the sensation of being cocooned with him.
Until she’d panicked. Because she’d loved it. Because she hadn’t pulled away, as she would normally have done.
Sapphie wasn’t a cuddler in bed. Sex was one thing, but sleep required space. Which was why either she left or she asked her partner to. Perhaps her habit was a leftover from sharing a bed with her sister, Emerald, for years until she’d figured out a better situation—a discarded bunk bed that she’d rescued from the side of the road and repainted. Since leaving home, she’d always had her own space and guarded it ruthlessly. Any invasion of that space was by invitation and never permanent.
The realization