Just This Night by Mari Madison Page A

goods.
    â€œWell, well, well. If it isn’t Mr. Throbbing Love Lance himself, making a beeline for the door.”
    I looked up startled. Beth’s roommate—Stephanie?—was leaning in the doorframe, dressed in a scanty pink negligee that barely covered the important parts. She was voluptuous, with full lips and big eyes and even bigger boobs. The kind of girl most guys would fall over backward to get with. But to me, she had nothing on her friend.
    â€œExcuse me?” I said, glancing longingly at my watch and then the front door. It was getting later and later and I didn’t have time for conversation. But I didn’t want to be rude. The two of them were going to hate me enough after this—I didn’t need to give them additional ammunition.
    She chuckled meanly. I noticed her eyes were black from smudged mascara and her lips still stained with the remnants of blood red lipstick. “Don’t worry,” she purred. “I wasn’t planning on cooking you breakfast. I just wanted to thank you before you took off.”
    I cocked my head. “Thank me?” I repeated.
    â€œFor doing the deed. Getting Lizzie laid. Trust me, she’ll be so much better off, now that she’s got the first one down.”
    I stared at her, uncomprehending.
    â€œI’m sorry,” Stephanie said, looking anything but. “Did she not tell you? That was the whole reason she went to the club last night in the first place.”
    â€œWhat?” I asked, sudden unease creeping into my stomach. “What are you talking about?”
    She smirked. “Come on, does Beth seem like a club kid to you? She hates those kinds of places. But she needed a quick screw to get back at her stupid ex-boyfriend. And where better than Club Rain to hunt for easy prey? Well, obviously
you
know.”
    She winked at me and I scowled at the implication. I wanted to argue—that Beth wasn’t that type of girl. That she and I had connected. That what we’d done hadn’t been some empty screw. That
I
was the bastard making what could have been a wonderful friendship into a one-night stand—not her.
    But was that really true? While I didn’t trust her roommate as far as I could throw her, thinking back on it now, I realized the whole night was a little odd. Meeting a girl like Beth in such a skanky bar—a silk purse surrounded by sow’s ears. She claimed she was waiting for her roommate—fine. But why had she agreed to come in the first place? Had she just been humoring Stephanie? Or had she had another plan in mind from the start? Had I truly stumbled on her by chance? Or had she been parked at the bar all night, fishing for someone—anyone—willing to get her off.
    No. I frowned. She wasn’t like that. She wasn’t that type of girl.
    Though . . . She
had
been the one to ask me to dance. The one who had tried to kiss me on the dance floor. Talked me into coming home with her. Told me the couch was not as comfortable as her bed.
    Had a drawer full of condoms at the ready.
    Jesus
. I raked a hand through my hair. And here I’d been all worried about breaking
her
heart.
    It was ironic, really. I’d been feeling like a bastard for sneaking out on her first thing in the morning and now I realized she was probably hiding in her bedroom, at this very moment, praying I’d leave without a fuss. To make a quick exit and avoid all that morning after awkward and all the fake promises that came with it.
    And if that was true, well, that was the perfect scenario, really—for both of us. We’d had a great time, gotten what we’d needed from one another, and now we could both move on.
    No hurt feelings.
    No big deal.
    Except . . . I grimaced, finding myself glancing over at her bedroom door again, almost against my will, an unexpected swell of disappointment sweeping through my stomach. It kind of felt like a big deal. And my feelings?