Enchanted Heart by Felicia Mason

her and before Lance could react, she snatched up her little handbag and was at the door.
    â€œViv. Wait a minute. Jesus, what’d I do?”
    She turned and looked him over.
    For Lance, time seemed to slow down or maybe even stand still in that moment when she assessed him, her eyes not missing a detail. He saw reflected in her gaze despair and loathing and something else that he’d never seen before.
    Everything that had happened here had been consensual. He’d never forced a woman and didn’t like the unspoken threat he sensed and saw in her eyes. She’d hardly been a virgin. And so he stood there waiting, vulnerable.
    The scene was her call.
    â€œThis shouldn’t have happened,” she finally said.
    And then she was gone.
    Lance stood there stunned.
    Shouldn’t have happened? They’d just had some of the best sex he’d ever had. It took him a minute to absorb her words. What game was she playing? A moment later, he ran after her.
    â€œVivienne!”
    But the timing gods weren’t with him. The elevator doors swooshed closed and Vivienne disappeared.
    Lance had been with a lot of women, but no one had ever run from him or his bed. If anything, he’d been the one doing the escaping. And now, the proverbial shoe was on the other foot. He didn’t like the fit one bit.
    A woman screamed. Lance whirled around spotting a middle-aged white woman. He scanned the hall looking for an intruder or attacker. But they were the only people there. Eyes wide and mouth trembling, she pointed at him, her other hand now clasped at her throat.
    That’s when Lance remembered. He stood buck naked in the middle of the seventh-floor hallway at the downtown Marriott.
    He swore. But he didn’t run or try to shield himself.
    â€œSorry about that,” he said.
    As the woman cowered against a wall fumbling with her door key, Lance walked back to the room he and Viv had shared and faced a very closed and very locked hotel room door.
    Now he really had something to cuss about.

4
    V iv didn’t stop running until she reached the parking lot where she’d left her car. It was almost midnight. All she wanted to do was get home and in a hot shower. If she stayed under the stinging water long enough she’d be able to wash away the humiliation she felt. Maybe. But she doubted it. It hadn’t worked before. Tonight held little probability of being any different.
    What was the sense in trying to change, in trying to be a better person, if she fell into bed with the first man who came along? Lance was merely the latest in a long string of characters playing the role of Mr. Feel Good Right Now—playthings who for a few moments enabled her to believe she’d always be beautiful and wanted.
    The challenge from Vicki was one she obviously wasn’t up to. She’d failed miserably at this. Again.
    Why couldn’t she just admit defeat, settle the bet with Vicki and get on with her life?
    To make the situation even worse, she’d just up and walked out on Julian, without a backward glance, without even a wave. He deserved better than that.
    And you deserve more than being a whore.
    The sharp words came at her like they did so often. She’d prostituted herself enough over the years. While she didn’t take money for sex, she took and gave sex for the promise of something just as intoxicating, just as potent. And where was the difference? She’d slept with Lance because he was there, because he was good-looking, because he, at least for a moment, could ease the ache inside her. And maybe—and this was the part she well and truly hated about herself—most of all, she’d slept with him because she knew he’d be more inclined to give her what she wanted for Guilty Pleasures if he got what he wanted.
    Quid pro quo, right?
    On a heavy sigh, she closed her eyes, leaning back on the headrest of the leather seat. It wasn’t difficult to figure out a