It Started with No Strings.... Kate Hardy
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was his common sense? Why wasn’t he pushing her out of here as quickly as he could?
He made a last-ditch effort to put an obstacle in the way. ‘Do you need—well, insulin or anything?’
‘I’m sorted,’ she said.
He could hardly say now that he’d changed his mind and ask her to leave, could he?
OK. This was just for tonight. Spending one night with someone wasn’t the same as a declaration of everlasting love, was it? So it wasn’t as if he was going to screw things up totally. Even he couldn’t manage to do that with a one-night fling.
He went to the bathroom, dealt with the condom and came back to the bedroom. ‘There are fresh towels in the bathroom. Help yourself to whatever you need.’
She gave him an embarrassed smile. ‘I know this is going to sound crazy after what we’ve just done, but do you, um, have a bathrobe or something I could borrow?’
‘Sure.’ He took his bathroom from the hook behind the door and handed it to her. ‘And I’ll close my eyes.’
‘Thank you.’
She returned a few minutes later, smelling of his citrus shower gel and with her skin still slightly damp.
‘Do you want me to close my eyes again?’ he asked when she stood beside the bed.
She nodded. ‘It’s a bit pathetic, I know.’
No. It just meant she really wasn’t used to having a one-night fling.
But maybe this was what both of them needed, right now.
He waited until she’d got into bed and he’d felt the duvet being pulled up on her side, then leaned over and kissed the tip of her nose. ‘Just for the record, it’s not pathetic,’ he said. ‘It’s kind of cute. And I’m very flattered that you chose me to—um, well. Be with you.’
‘Hmm,’ she said, but her eyes crinkled at the corners.
‘Let’s get some sleep,’ he said, and switched off the light.
It had been a long, long time since he’d spent the night with someone. He knew it wasn’t the most sensible decision he’d ever made; but right now it felt good to fall asleep curled round a warm body. So he’d go with it. And tomorrow—tomorrow, they’d have breakfast, they’d smile, they’d say goodbye and they’d walk away.
Joni was warm and comfortable, the body wrapped round hers holding her close.
Then she opened her eyes as the realisation hit her. The body wrapped round hers.
She’d stayed overnight with Aaron.
Uh-oh.
This could be awkward.
Last night was—well, last night. A crazy impulse, one she really shouldn’t have acted on.
Why had she stayed for that last dance? Why had she let him kiss her stupid and then made love with him? Why hadn’t she taken the chances he’d offered her to back away and flee to the safety of her own flat?
Panic seeped through her. What would Aaron expect of her this morning? Last night he’d talked about having breakfast. But would he think that they were now officially a couple because she’d stayed the night? Or would he, too, be having these doubts and panicking that she’d want much more from him than he was prepared to give?
She took a deep breath, held it, and listened.
He was breathing deeply and evenly. OK, so he could be faking it—but his body didn’t feel tense against hers, which it would do if he really was faking it, Joni told herself. His body felt relaxed; so it was pretty safe to assume that he was still asleep, and she might just have a chance of salvaging the situation.
Leaving without saying goodbye was taking the coward’s way out, she knew, but right at that moment she could live with that. All she had to do was get out of the bed without waking him, collect her clothes, dress as quickly as she could, and then let herself quietly out of his flat and out of his life. The chances of them bumping into each other again in a city as big as London were pretty remote, especially as she had no intention of going back to the salsa club. And this way they’d both be left with some good memories and no disappointed expectations.
Tentatively, she lifted the fingers of his hand away from her waist. His breathing remained deep and even, to her relief. Clearly Aaron was one of those people who slept like the dead and it would take a really loud alarm to wake him in the morning.
She hoped.
Moving slowly, she managed to wriggle out of his hold and slide out of the bed.
There was enough light coming through the curtains for her to locate her clothes, and she remembered that she’d left her shoes by the front door. She crept out of the room, hoping that she wouldn’t accidentally stand on a squeaky floorboard and wake him, and closed the door very gently behind her.
From there, it was a matter of seconds to drag her clothes on and find her handbag where she’d left it on the worktop in his kitchen.
Leaving without a word seemed a little harsh. But there was a memo block and a pen next to the phone in his kitchen. She scribbled a brief note and left it pinned down in the corner by one of the clean mugs. Then she collected her shoes and let herself quietly out of his flat.
A passer-by in the street gave her a knowing look; it was Sunday morning, and she was dressed for a Saturday night, so it was obvious that she hadn’t gone back to her own place. She ignored the passer-by and straightened her spine. OK, so her behaviour last night hadn’t been the way she normally acted. But it had been exactly what she’d needed. Aaron, unlike Marty, had made her feel good about herself. He’d taken away the lingering sadness of a day she’d been dreading. So she had no regrets. And now she’d find a taxi, go home, and get on with the rest of her life.
Aaron woke to find the bed beside him stone cold.
Joni had clearly left without waking him.
He knew he ought to feel relieved; he really didn’t want the complication of getting involved with someone. And yet he was shocked to discover that what he actually felt was disappointment. He’d actually been looking forward to waking up beside Joni and having a leisurely breakfast together.
Was he totally crazy?
He shook his head to clear it. He knew nothing about Joni other than her first name. The chances of finding her in a city like London were next to nothing. And that, he reminded himself sharply, was probably for the best.
He showered, dressed, and went to make himself a coffee. Which was when he saw her note: Thank you for everything. J.
Cute. Good manners.
But he also noticed that she hadn’t left him her phone number or any way of contacting her. Which meant that, as far as she was concerned, last night had been a total one-off. She didn’t want to see him again.
‘It’s for the best,’ he said—out loud, this time, to convince himself properly. Though his voice sounded a little bit hollow.
Still, he didn’t have time to brood. He started his new job tomorrow. And that would keep him busy enough to stop him thinking about the gorgeous woman with amazing hair who’d made him see stars and spent the night curled in his arms.
New job. New responsibilities. Part of a new team.
And on his own. Which was the only way that really worked for him.
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