thanks for the sex. It was fun. See you around.
She had to get out of here.
Chagrined, she discovered getting dressed wasn’t as simple as it should have been, her clothes scattered throughout the suite like pieces of driftwood on a beach. As rapidly as she could, having no choice but to tiptoe around stark naked, she gathered up her dress and bra and shoes.
That’s when she realized the worst.
Her most intimate undergarments lay on the floor.
On his side of the bed.
Directly under the long male arm dangling off the mattress.
She ground her teeth in frustration.
Creeping closer, she watched, waiting to see if he was about to wake. But his face remained serene, relaxed, and younger looking despite the heavy shadow of sexy black stubble covering his cheeks and chin.
She managed to slide free her hose and garter belt, draping the scanty delicates over the bundle of garments in her arms.
Her panties were another matter.
Zack stirred and shifted. For a hopeful second she thought he was going to roll over onto his side. Instead he stretched farther out on his stomach, lengthening his spine so that his arm dropped a fraction of an inch lower. His fingers now rested on the sheer garment, literally pinning it to the carpet.
Silently she cursed. If she couldn’t retrieve her panties, she’d have to go home without them. A perfectly dreadful prospect, she decided. Yet somehow the idea of waking him up and having to confront him seemed even worse.
Defeated, she padded into the bathroom.
He hadn’t moved, not even an inch, by the time she crept back into the room, fully dressed. Or rather, nearly dressed, she was reminded as a faint draft of air wafted up beneath her skirt. The sensation was immodestly disconcerting. As for her hair, rather than take the time to find her hairpins, she’d simply brushed it and left the strands to fall in loose waves around her shoulders.
Presentable-looking enough, she believed. At least as presentable as a woman could look, traveling home alone, at ten o’clock in the morning, still rigged out in full evening attire. It was New Year’s Day. The odd hour wouldn’t seem so remarkable, she assured herself, especially in New York City, where you had to look a lot stranger than she did to even get noticed.
Glancing at him one final time, where he lay sleeping like some enchanted fairy-tale prince, she pulled on her coat, grabbed her purse, and quietly let herself out the door.
• • •
The lock clicked ever so softly, the slight sound awakening Zack.
Instantly he realized he was alone.
Regrettable, he decided. He’d been looking forward to lazing away a few more hours with Madelyn, after calling the front desk first to request the latest checkout possible.
His fingers brushed against a silky something on the floor.
Fabric.
He curled a hand around the item and discovered Madelyn’s abandoned lingerie dangling from his fingertips. In spite of his tiredness, his body responded, her scent drifting to his nostrils, evocative and utterly female.
He groaned, wishing she were here in this bed with him.
He’d see her tomorrow at work, he supposed. And when work was concluded, he’d see more of her.
A lot more, he promised himself.
He laid the thin scrap of pink on the nightstand, then rolled over. Eyes closed, he drifted back to sleep.
C HAPTER FOUR
M adelyn dropped a thick set of layout sketches and photographs onto the already overflowing top of her desk. Generally she managed to keep her work better organized, divided into neat stacks designed to make everything easy for her to locate.
But today had been a bear—as first days back after a holiday usually were—what with back-to-back meetings and barely enough time for a bathroom break in between. Lunch had been a chicken sandwich eaten on the run.
She glanced at her wristwatch. Five thirty p.m.
Rush hour would be at its unpleasant worst. Rather than sit idling in traffic, she decided to stay and make another