Just One (Dangerously Dimpled)

Just One (Dangerously Dimpled) by Emily Hemmer Read Free Book Online Page B

Book: Just One (Dangerously Dimpled) by Emily Hemmer Read Free Book Online
Authors: Emily Hemmer
ears. It jostles wildly,
demanding someone answer the call. Three more long alerts and it finally goes
still.
      I sit heavily on the side of the bath,
staring at the Missed Call alert displayed on the phone’s sleek face.
      I’d forgotten. Cadence had been looking for
Alex last night. He’s supposed to be getting ready for their brunch date and
instead… Instead, he’s slumbering peacefully, and naked, in my bed.
    The phone vibrates again, this time
alerting its owner of a new text message. My thumb hovers over the little
envelope and a red, circular number 1 tucked in the top right-hand corner.
    Don’t even think about it, Charlie.
Alex’s phone is none of your business. For goodness sake, you just met the guy
ten hours ago.
    But
he likes me.
    Says who?
    He
said he was glad I fell over.
    Yeah, any wonder? He does the gentlemanly
thing and helps you up and what do you do? You welcome him into your room and
screw him like a Phillip’s-head.
    He
told me that story about his father. He’s never told anyone that story!
    And you fell for that? Have you learned
nothing from the guys at work? Men lie to get women into bed. Don’t be a fool.
    But,
but…
    But nothing. It was fun. You got to use
that trick you saw on YouTube, and now it’s over.
    He
likes me.
    Correction, he liked you naked and
ordering twenty-nine dollar pancakes. He’s from another world and you’re no
Paige…
    The display on the phone goes dark and
instinct kicks in. I rub my thumb across its surface and the little envelope
with the red-circled number 1 comes back. I tap on the icon and Cadence’s
message appears.
    *Where are you? You didn’t come home last night. Did you
sleep at the hotel? Call me, I’m worried. XO*
    Home? Worried? The words stick in my
throat like a piece of ten day old dry toast. I toss the offending phone and it
lands with a gentle thud on Alex’s pants.
    Paige warned me to stay away from him. I
got so caught up in his eyes. His dimples. Damn! I knew they were going to land me in a heap of trouble.
    It’s reality check time. Alex Ramirez is
a smooth talker with a proclivity for kinky sex. It was great. Now it’s over.
    I pull my dress from the floor and shimmy
into it, pulling the posh fabric over my hips, zipping it closed at my side.
    Shoving the toothbrush and paste back
into my makeup bag, I snatch a few miniature bottles of shampoo, conditioner,
and body lotion from the sink and stealthily open the bathroom door.
      Alex’s soft snores verify he’s still fast
asleep.
      I walk slowly toward my rollie suitcase
and shove the vanity bag into the outside pocket. Thankfully, Paige cornered
and accosted me with her hair and makeup team on arrival, and I didn’t have
time to unpack.
    I snatch the shirt and jeans I wore into
town from the chair beside me and shove my feet into the glory of my beloved
cowboy boots.
    Paige’s pointy stilettos accuse me from
beneath the desk and I silently loop them around a finger. All I need is for
Alex to show up at my trailer with a lost slipper. Not that that is likely to happen.
    My possessions accounted for, I
straighten, and look at him. The outline of his thick, tan muscles are every
bit as sexy now as they were when he used them to lift me up against the wall.
His hair is rumpled and impossibly black against the bright white linens. My
fingers itch to run through it.
      The shadow of a dimple is barely
perceptible through the dark stubble on his face, but I know its there. I uncovered
those secrets myself last night. He’s gorgeous, perfect even. What in hell was I thinking?
    I turn from the bed and pad across the
room. The door handle is cool and heavy but it doesn’t make a sound as I pull
it down. I wheel my suitcase into the hall; disappointed the empty sugar bowl
has already been cleared away. I look back.
      The only thing visible from this angle is
one tan foot, draped lazily over the bed. My side. In another world, things
could be different. Maybe.
    In this one Alex

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