Page 85 of Turn Me On

And I’m standing on the streets of Gramercy Park, looking exactly like a man who just got screwed by his choice to screw a client.

23

MARGARITA KISS

Zane

I float on a raft in Maddox’s pool as he strides over to me in those black trunks, a margarita in each hand. He steps into the water, walks down the steps like a magazine model, and hands me a mouth-watering drink.

“You’re the fucking best,” I murmur as I take a sip then ask him for a margarita kiss. He bends toward me…

And I’m smiling like a fool as the last delicious dream of the night fades away but leaves its warm, wonderful imprint on my mind as I stretch in bed.

Soon, I’ll open my eyes, but right now I’m still indulging in my favorite scent.Maddox. I can smell the sexy man by my side, but this time it’s not his ocean breeze shampoo. It’s something with sage and lemon. The hotel shampoo, and I can smell it on me too.

The one we used last night.

The one we’ll use again tonight. And then, before this secret two-day affair ends, I’m going to broach a tough subject. I’m going to ask him if we can find a way to be together. No clue how we’d pull it off. I haven’t worked out the details, but I want to be with this man I’m falling so hard for. I hope he might feel the same. He faces the bigger risk. I’ve always known that. Athletes are more apt to get away with skirting the rules. Plus, I’ve got this fantastic deal he struck in my hands now. But that also means it’s my turn to support him. I’m ready to do that. I want to know what I can do to helpusalong. What he needs from me to make a real romance happen.

My stomach rumbles and I draw a deep, satisfied breath. I blink open my eyes, sighing happily again.

“Hey, you,” I say, but when I turn to reach for my guy, the bed’s empty.

I laugh. That’s so Maddox. I bet he got up at six, worked out, wrote a contract, and decided to pick up breakfast at some trendy new food truck serving açai bowls and papayas.

I push up on my elbows. “Hey handsome,” I call out, in case he’s in the bathroom. Shaving maybe? Oh, that’d be hot. Walking in and seeing him sliding a razor across his chiseled jaw?

Yes, please.

But I’m greeted by silence.

Hmm. He’s probably on his way back from the food truck, but just to be sure, I swing my legs out of bed and head to the bathroom. He’s not there. I peer into the room, scanning for evidence. All his clothes are gone. I mean, that makes sense. He wouldn’t leave naked to grab some grub. I take care of business quickly in the little boys’ room, then snag my phone and turn off the do not disturb.

My phone pings with a text from my brother thanking me again. From Tanner saying we’ll talk soon. From Gunnar asking if I want to work out and grab lunch.

But nothing from the man who stole my heart.

Well, no reason I shouldn’t message him.Hey handsome, where’d you go? I’m getting in the shower…If you happen to return while I’m in there, feel free to join. Or just watch me. If you know what I mean.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m fresh as a daisy in my workout shorts and a T-shirt. But the man is still AWOL.

I check the time. It’s nine-forty. He said his first meeting was at ten. I’m not hitting the panic button yet, but I’m fiddling with the worry one. I grab my phone again, and right when I’m about to call him, his name flashes across my screen. I breathe a sigh of relief, answering with, “You’re too late for the shower show, but you can make it up to me if you get your sexy ass here in the next five minutes.”

He says nothing for a couple seconds, and that chills me. “Zane,” he says at last, and his voice is too heavy, too dark. “I can’t do this. I can’t see you tonight. I can’t see you tomorrow night.”

The floor buckles. I stick out my arm, reach for the wall. “What? Why?”

“I lost a potential client this morning. I was courting a football player. A talented guy who’s in demand and looking for new representation. He called a few times last night and again this morning,” Maddox says, his voice barren, like every word hurts.

But fuck, every word slays me too.

“And you missed the calls?” I choke out as all my morning joy drains away.

“All of them,” he says, as a siren crackles from his side of the call. He must be walking somewhere in the city. “I put my phone on silent, and I’d promised this client I’d be available. I told him he could call anytime. I even said to him on the golf course that I was an early riser too.”

He sounds like he’s beating himself up. Of course he is. That’s his style. “But you’re allowed to have a life and get some sleep,” I insist. Maybe he just needs reassurance, and then he’ll realize he’s being ridiculous. He’ll sayyou’re right, Zane, and I’ll see you tonight and the next night and then we’ll find a way.

“Yes, but I’m not supposed to be MIAfor twelve hoursunless I’ve given my clients a heads-up,” he says, his tone full of remorse and self-loathing. “Clients expect to be able to get a hold of me in a reasonable amount of time. I even alert everyone when I’m traveling so they know I might not be reachable.”