Accidental Tryst Page 7

“Sorry.” She wiped her face and opened her eyes.

  “Angie?”

  Shit! Mac stood before her in his suit with a gym bag flung over his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

  She instinctively stepped back, her brain searching to piece together the scene. He worked out here?

  If she didn’t know him, she would do a double take. Mac wore his suit straight from the office—his jacket open and his tie loose. He exuded confidence and that made him equally sexy and handsome.

  “I . . . I’m fine. I didn’t see you.”

  His hands released her. “It’s alright. I didn’t know you joined the gym.”

  “Yeah. Just recently.”

  His eyes scanned her body, and he looked like he had something more to say, but decided against it.

  Unease settled in her core. Being this close to him, and at the same time feeling like a stranger, she had to get distance. “Well, have a good workout.” She backed away, and continued until she could break eye contact and turn to leave, careful to watch where she was going.

  “Take care,” he called after her.

  She made it out the front doors and let out a breath she’d been holding in. Gees! How awkward.

  One day at a time, she replayed Terri’s words in her head. That would be her motto to get her through this mess.

  Chapter Eleven

  The following day, Mac received a text from Ryan, inviting him to meet for drinks. He and Ryan were friends for several years now. And he was all too happy to accept.

  As Mac walked into the bar, he saw Ryan stand to flag him down. Mac wend through the throng of people to his friend. Borrowed Money was a Dallas favorite and had the crowd to prove it. Briefly, he wondered if there was a chance he’d run into Angie.

  “What’s up, man?” Ryan grasped Mac’s hand in a high handshake and leaned in to pat his back with his other hand.

  “I’m hangin’ in there. Could you have picked a more crowded place?”

  Ryan rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what’s going on. This place is a zoo.” He motioned for the padded stool next to him. “Turns out I can’t stay too long anyway.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, and I owe you an apology. I’ve been MIA these last few weeks. Work has been slammed and this traveling is kicking my ass.”

  Mac motioned for the bartender. “Heineken, please.” He turned back to his friend. “I remember those days. A different city every week, or night sometimes.”

  “Yup. But I think I see the light at the end of the tunnel, now that third quarter has wrapped up for us.”

  Mac reached for his beer to take a swig.

  “So what’s new with you? Adjusting to the new position and all?”

  Mac forced a smile. “I am, and it’s going well. Life at home sucks though.”

  “Shit. What’s going on?”

  “Angie asked me for a divorce.”

  “No shit,” Ryan said with a slump in his shoulders.

  Mac shook his head. “Came out of the clear blue. I mean, things have been touch and go between us for a while, but couples go through shit. I figured we’d make our way through with time.”

  “So what are you gonna do?”

  “I’ve moved out. I’m going to give her some space and hope for the best. The boys are taking it hard, but what could I expect? Shit, Ryan. I had no idea marriage would be so hard. I work my ass off and come home . . . to what? No appreciation, just a bunch of wants and needs.” He let out a sigh. “What about what I want? What I need?”

  “I hear ya, man.”

  Even though he and Ryan were tight, Ryan didn’t need to hear him gripe. His loneliness at times was unbearable, but being with his good friend helped. Mac needed to change the subject because he was just bringing down Ryan and himself. “So, enough of my bitching. What’s new in your world? How are Carol and the kids?”

  “Good. They’re all good. Actually, I just learned Billy has a slight case of dyslexia, so he gets time with a specialist at the school to help him . . .”

  Ryan went on about his family and work, and Mac had to force himself not to tune out. He threw in an occasional mmm-hmm and uh-huh, but his mind wandered in the worst way. He needed to shake himself out of this funk.

  Three drinks and an hour later, Ryan glanced at his phone. “Crap, I gotta get out of here. I’ve got the six a.m. flight out to Atlanta in the morning.” He stood, tossed some bills on the bar, and emptied his glass.

  Mac rose and took his hand. “No problem, man. I’m gonna finish my beer and head out myself.”

  “Okay. Great catching up. I’ll have you over soon. We can throw steaks on the grill,” he said with a smile.

  “Count me in.” He watched his friend grab his jacket and head for the door. Seeing Ryan again was good. The two men had been friends since college. And even as Mac had trouble staying focused, having his friend nearby was exactly what he needed.

  Mac spun back around and leaned his forearms against the bar. He had half the bottle to go, but he was in no rush. He had nothing to go home to.

  He glanced around a bit. The place had thinned out, and he noticed a woman at a table with two others watching him. He gave a polite nod and continued to scan the bar.

  The woman had perfect white teeth and blonde hair pulled back from her face. He took note that she intentionally looked his way—not trying to break eye contact when their eyes met. Interesting.

  He took another sip and focused his attention on the TV at the end of the bar televising a football game.

  “Do you only drink beer?” he heard from behind.

  He pivoted around, and the blonde stood before him in a tan suit with a navy blouse and navy heels. Mac couldn’t help but notice that the suit hugged her curves in every good way.

  Of course, it could be the alcohol clouding his vision.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’ve watched you drink Heineken all night. Is that all you drink?”

  She’d watched him? “What else is there?”

  She raised a brow and her mouth curved. “Bourbon.”

  Well, shit. This striking woman had some spunk to her. “You drink bourbon?”

  She made a show of rolling her eyes, then took the empty spot next to him and leaned into the bar. Mac briefly gleaned a look at her perfect heart-shaped ass. Shit! This woman was trouble, and the best thing he could do would be to high-tail it out of there.

  “Henry.” The bartender turned, walked toward them, and gave a nod.

  She pointed to a brown bottle up three shelves. “Let’s get two of that delicious bourbon for me and my friend here. Neat.”

  “You got it,” he replied.

  Double shit! He’d intended to ask for the bill.

  “Victoria Hemming,” she said as she stuck out her right hand for his.

  Exchanging names. Did she really think she’d be hanging around long? “Look, Victoria. I was just about to close out my tab and head home—”

  “Home to the little woman.”

  He watched as her sight traveled to his gold wedding band. Although Angie had taken off her ring, he wasn’t there yet. Deep inside, he needed to hold onto the belief that they could get through this. Removing his ring would be like admitting defeat. The final nail in the coffin.

  Sadly, no he wouldn’t be going home to the little woman.

  The bartender set down their drinks and walked away.

  “Here,” she handed him a glass. “Have a drink with me before you head out.”

  Mac’s eyes traveled from her face to the glass, then back again. Okay, one drink. Because, hell, this was an excellent brand and it shouldn’t go to waste.

  “Alright,” he said.

  “To good drinks and good times.” She clanked her glass against his softly.

  That comment reminded him of something Angie would say. Angie had an amazing confidence to her. Victoria certainly didn’t lack for self-confidence. Angie’s sensuality was subtle, but not hidden. The woman before him knew she lo
oked good and didn’t apologize for how she owned it.

  They both took sips, and Mac savored the long, slow burn of the bourbon sliding down his throat. Damn, he hadn’t had a bourbon this good in years. Even traveling on an expense account, he didn’t take the time to savor the little things like this. Angie had called him a workaholic, and maybe he was because he’d certainly gone too long missing something this fine.

  Victoria gave him a sexy little smile. “Good, huh?”

  “Top notch.”

  “Are you going to tell me your name, or do I have to guess? ‘Cause that could take all night,” she drew out the last two words.

  Challenging, feisty vixen. “Steven MacKey,” he said as he offered her his hand.

  She slid her hand into his, gently grasping, and said, “Good to meet you, Steven.” The corners of her perfectly formed lips curved. She held on a bit longer than necessary before releasing his hand.

  She took the seat Ryan had vacated and asked, “What do you do, Steven?”

  She crossed her legs, forcing her skirt to hike higher up her naked thigh.

  Alarm bells were sounding in Mac’s head. This woman had one thing she was after. It would be in his best interest not to accept her offer. He and Angie may be separated, but they were still married.

  He glanced at his watch. Finish the drink and leave. “I’m in marketing for Frisco.”

  “Really?” Her head tilted to the right. “Good company.”

  “Yes, it is. And what do you do, Victoria?”

  “I’m a real estate agent.”

  Boy, if he had a dime for every realtor he knew.

  “Commercial or residential real estate?”

  “Residential. I’ve been in the business for over ten years.”

  He nodded. “And the couple you were sitting with? Clients?”

  “They were fellow agents from my office. We drop in here on occasion for drinks after work.”

  More than occasionally, Mac would bet, considering she knew the bartender’s name. “Are you good at what you do?”

  Fuck! He hadn’t meant to ask that. At least not the way she would likely take it.

  One brow perked up and her eyes glinted. “Yes. I ask a lot of questions. It’s the best way to learn what my clients are looking for in a house. But I’m placing them in a community, not just a house, so I also learn what I can about their personalities, their hobbies and interests. Like discovering that one might like top-shelf bourbon,” she purred.

  His lips quirked, and he tipped his glass. “Touché.”

  She licked her lips and leaned closer to him, “So tell me, Steven, what are some other things that interest you?”

  That position gave him a decent view of her cleavage and one red, lacy bra. Mac’s cock gave a little jump and he willed it to stay down.

  That was strictly a primal response and meant nothing.

  The way her eyes dilated when she looked at him confirmed she had one thing on her mind. Hell, if he didn’t leave this very damn minute—get far away from her—he was screwed from here to Timbuktu.

  “Victoria, you’re very attractive, and I have no doubt you’ve heard you’re a beautiful woman. I regret that I must call it a night and make my way home.”

  She straightened in her chair, letting the smile on her face slip a fraction. “Of course. I understand. My friends have left. Would you mind escorting me to my car so I get there safely?”

  He could do that. Walking alone in the dark would not be safe for her. “Sure.”

  He paid for their drinks, and she slipped her purse over her shoulder. He pushed open the door for her and followed her out.

  “I’m just over in the parking garage. Second floor.”

  “Alright.”

  They walked, chatting mostly about the weather and the cooler temperatures finally rolling in. They arrived a few feet from her midsize SUV when she lost her footing and stumbled. Mac quickly reached out and caught hold of her arm to prevent her from falling.

  “Geez! Thank you. I must remember not to wear these heels again if I’m going to drink.” She smiled to make light of her action.

  Victoria gripped his forearm and leaned down to slip off her shoes completely and carry them. The garage floor was mostly empty at this time of night, so they walked straight to her SUV. She hit the remote, opened the backdoor, and tossed the shoes on the floorboard along with her purse.

  She turned around. “Thanks again for catching me, and thanks for walking me to my car.” Her hand went to his chest, and Mac felt the slight dig of her nails like cat claws on his muscle. She lifted herself on her toes to place a kiss on his lips. Her lips were closed, but soft and warm against his. He didn’t jerk away. His mind told him to, but his body wouldn’t obey.

  She lingered until slowly glossing her tongue over the seam of his lips, as a feline meticulously licks her fur. When he opened fractionally, her tongue slipped inside and tested, searching for his. His body responded on its own and kissed her back. She tasted like bourbon and hot female.

  Her hands grabbed the back of his neck as her whole body went flush to the front of his. He held on to her hips and inched her shirt upward feeling the soft, warm skin of her torso.

  What was he doing? Shit!

  He pulled away and dropped his hands. His heart beat like a drum, and his cock begged to be set free, but hell! He was married. He had to leave this woman. Now!

  Victoria trained her eyes on his while she unbuttoned her jacket and slipped it off her shoulders. She flung it on the backseat.

  Mac pursed his lips. She was relentless, which pissed him off. Truthfully, he was angry with himself for not turning and walking away.

  “Well, good night, Victoria.”

  In a brazen move, her fingers went to work on the buttons of her blouse. His head darted around the garage. “What are you doing?” he scowled at her, but she didn’t stop.

  Her blouse was now entirely undone and hanging straight down.

  Still watching him and perhaps trying to read his mind, she slowly opened the blouse, letting it fall off her shoulders.

  Fuck!

  Then she reached for his hand and pulled him closer, placing it on her full breast.

  “I want you to touch me.” She lifted his other hand and cupped it over her other lace-covered breast. “I’ve wanted it the moment you walked in that bar.”

  She’d been watching him the entire time. The alcohol seemed to have disintegrated any remaining self-restraint he had. He grabbed the straps of her bra and yanked them down.

  “Fuck.” He massaged roughly at her moan, loving the power-play.

  He wrapped an arm around her waist, hauling her up to him and his aching dick. He crashed his mouth over hers, their tongues collided and danced. Her arms flew around his neck, and she mewled into his mouth as she wiggled her torso into his raging erection.

  She brought a hand to work on his tie and shirt buttons, but ditched that after mere moments to stroke his cock over his trousers. He groaned.

  Her body was made for sin. And his dick wanted nothing more than to sink into the luscious body and hear her scream.

  “In the car,” she breathed over his lips as she worked his belt and pants button while pulling him to follow her into the backseat. She wasted no time unhooking her bra, throwing it to the floor, and hiking up her skirt. She lay before him, revealing her red lacy thong. She was a siren.

  Her knee bent, resting her foot on the bench, giving him a view of her sweet pussy. Then she beckoned him with a wave of her finger.

  “C’mere, Steven. I have a condom for that anaconda.”

  What?! He froze. What the hell was he doing?

  Her eyebrows grew together. “Why are you stopping?”

  Fuck! He tucked himself in and quickly zipped up his fly. “Victoria, I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”

  She propped herself on her elbows. “But we were just getting started.”

  He barely heard her as he repeated, “I’m sorry,” and clo
sed the car door behind him. He jogged to the staircase, fixing his belt. He ran down the steps, out the street, where his car was parked.

  His heart raced. Shit! What an asshole he was. What was he thinking? He was married, for the love of God. What came over him?

  A wave a nausea threatened to have him spill the contents of his stomach. He braced his hands against the hood of his car, dipping his head. He took several deeps breaths and waited for the sensation to pass. Then, he flung the door open, started the car, and peeled out of the parking space as fast as he could.

  “Fuck!” he let out as he slammed his fist against the steering wheel.

  He had no business being with that woman, talking with that woman. She’d put on a full-court press, doing all she could to fracture his resolve. He wanted to work things out with his wife. And cheating was one sure-fire way to prevent that from happening.

  He sped to his apartment, stripped out of his clothes, and jumped in the shower. He could not stop the thoughts that invaded his mind. The guilt he felt. He’d never cheated on his wife. Never had a desire to. Ever.

  He’d seen the men hanging out in the hotel bars while traveling. They were kidding themselves to think they weren’t inviting trouble. Mac would eat at the restaurant and make his way straight back to his room. Sure, he would have liked some company, chatting with the bartender or another businessman or woman, but it was too risky.

  He saturated his head under the spray. All those years of minding himself—out the window in one night. One hour!

  There was no choice. He had to tell Angie.

  Are you a fool?

  Shit! He didn’t know what to do. He loved his wife, and the guilt of what he’d done to her bore down on him. He slammed his fist on the tile wall.

  Chapter Twelve

  Angie exited a conference room after meeting with the director of sales, conferencing in all the store managers, to review the communications plan for the new men’s line when Patty rushed to her.

  “Angie,” she called.

  Patty was a twenty-something curly-haired brunette with a sparkling personality. She never had a bad day, figuratively wore rose-colored glasses all the time. Which frankly was a good thing considering she was head of Customer Service. Not that l’Amour received very many complaints. Quite the opposite, but calls and emails still came in that needed to be addressed. Things like, why didn’t they offer free tailoring services. Or could they find a sweater like such and such in a certain color. Or—one of her favorites—could lunch be catered at the store since one client in La Jolla liked to shop during her lunch hour.