wall, into his bed.
Enough.
She breathed in, then slowly out. Inch by careful inch, she moved from beneath his arm. Waking him, having to face him again, was the last thing in the world she wanted.
If there was a morning protocol for what she was supposed to do now, she didn’t know it, didn’t want to know it.
“Mmmf.”
Caroline froze. Waited. After what seemed forever, Lucas rolled onto his side, away from her.
She went into action, located her scattered clothes—shoes, dress, bra, little evening purse. She couldn’t find her thong panties—her torn panties—and after a couple of minutes, she gave up looking.
Time to get out while she still could.
The gray light of dawn lit the rooms of the penthouse as she made her way downstairs. She had no memory of the place; all her attention had been on Lucas. Now, she saw that it was huge and handsome, furnished in light woods and glass. The elevator, small and elegant, stood at the end of the foyer.
Precious seconds flew while she figured out how to operate it. At last, she got it moving and as it dropped toward the lobby, she tried not to think about what had happened in this car a few hours ago.
Lucas, lifting her into him. His mouth, hungry on hers. Desire, welling hot and sweet within her.
The elevator gave a delicate bounce when it reached the lobby. The door slid open but not before Caroline got a clear look at herself in its mirrored surface.
What she saw made her cringe.
Smudged makeup. Tangled hair. Skinny gold heels and a dress that might as well have had
Guess What I Did Last Night
printed across it.
In a better world, the lobby would have been empty but this was the same world in which she’d already humiliated herself once. Now, it was time for Round Two.
A man in a blue blazer sat behind a desk. He looked up, saw her, smiled pleasantly and said, “Good morning, miss,” as if women in her state stepped out of Lucas’s private elevator all the time, which they undoubtedly did.
“Morning,” she mumbled, but the embarrassment wasn’t over, not yet, because—of course—there was a doorman andhe said the same thing, just as pleasantly, and all Caroline could do was wish the marble floor would open and swallow her whole.
“Shall I hail a cab for you, miss?” the doorman said as he opened the door.
She said, “Yes, please,” because even imagining getting into a subway car looking as she did at this hour of the morning made her feel sick.
“Thank you,” she said, when a cab pulled to the curb. Was she supposed to tip the doorman or wasn’t she? she wondered, and then she almost laughed because what did a question about tipping matter now? The fact was, she was in way over her head.
She gave the doorman a five-dollar bill, gave the cabbie her address and told herself that saying
I know how this looks but really, I’m not the kind of woman you think I am
would accomplish nothing. Either the cabbie wouldn’t care or, if he did, then she was exactly the kind of woman he thought she was.
At least, she was that kind of woman, now.
She made it into her flat without bumping into anybody and then she locked the door, peeled off her dress—Dani’s dress—kicked off her shoes—Dani’s shoes—and went straight into the shower where not all the hot water nor all the soap in the world would have been enough to make her forget what she’d done.
If only she could forget the sex, the incredible sex, because it had been that. Incredible. Amazing. Fantastic. Or if she could remember it without feeling the awful guilt of having gone to bed with a man she didn’t know.
But she couldn’t. And, after a while, she just stopped trying.
Lucas awoke to a sound.
Faint. Distant. What…? The elevator. The purr of the motor.
He rolled over. Sat up. Saw that the space beside him was empty, that Dani’s clothes were no longer scattered around the room.
She was gone.
He sank back against the pillows, folded his arms beneath his head. Well, that
Enough.
She breathed in, then slowly out. Inch by careful inch, she moved from beneath his arm. Waking him, having to face him again, was the last thing in the world she wanted.
If there was a morning protocol for what she was supposed to do now, she didn’t know it, didn’t want to know it.
“Mmmf.”
Caroline froze. Waited. After what seemed forever, Lucas rolled onto his side, away from her.
She went into action, located her scattered clothes—shoes, dress, bra, little evening purse. She couldn’t find her thong panties—her torn panties—and after a couple of minutes, she gave up looking.
Time to get out while she still could.
The gray light of dawn lit the rooms of the penthouse as she made her way downstairs. She had no memory of the place; all her attention had been on Lucas. Now, she saw that it was huge and handsome, furnished in light woods and glass. The elevator, small and elegant, stood at the end of the foyer.
Precious seconds flew while she figured out how to operate it. At last, she got it moving and as it dropped toward the lobby, she tried not to think about what had happened in this car a few hours ago.
Lucas, lifting her into him. His mouth, hungry on hers. Desire, welling hot and sweet within her.
The elevator gave a delicate bounce when it reached the lobby. The door slid open but not before Caroline got a clear look at herself in its mirrored surface.
What she saw made her cringe.
Smudged makeup. Tangled hair. Skinny gold heels and a dress that might as well have had
Guess What I Did Last Night
printed across it.
In a better world, the lobby would have been empty but this was the same world in which she’d already humiliated herself once. Now, it was time for Round Two.
A man in a blue blazer sat behind a desk. He looked up, saw her, smiled pleasantly and said, “Good morning, miss,” as if women in her state stepped out of Lucas’s private elevator all the time, which they undoubtedly did.
“Morning,” she mumbled, but the embarrassment wasn’t over, not yet, because—of course—there was a doorman andhe said the same thing, just as pleasantly, and all Caroline could do was wish the marble floor would open and swallow her whole.
“Shall I hail a cab for you, miss?” the doorman said as he opened the door.
She said, “Yes, please,” because even imagining getting into a subway car looking as she did at this hour of the morning made her feel sick.
“Thank you,” she said, when a cab pulled to the curb. Was she supposed to tip the doorman or wasn’t she? she wondered, and then she almost laughed because what did a question about tipping matter now? The fact was, she was in way over her head.
She gave the doorman a five-dollar bill, gave the cabbie her address and told herself that saying
I know how this looks but really, I’m not the kind of woman you think I am
would accomplish nothing. Either the cabbie wouldn’t care or, if he did, then she was exactly the kind of woman he thought she was.
At least, she was that kind of woman, now.
She made it into her flat without bumping into anybody and then she locked the door, peeled off her dress—Dani’s dress—kicked off her shoes—Dani’s shoes—and went straight into the shower where not all the hot water nor all the soap in the world would have been enough to make her forget what she’d done.
If only she could forget the sex, the incredible sex, because it had been that. Incredible. Amazing. Fantastic. Or if she could remember it without feeling the awful guilt of having gone to bed with a man she didn’t know.
But she couldn’t. And, after a while, she just stopped trying.
Lucas awoke to a sound.
Faint. Distant. What…? The elevator. The purr of the motor.
He rolled over. Sat up. Saw that the space beside him was empty, that Dani’s clothes were no longer scattered around the room.
She was gone.
He sank back against the pillows, folded his arms beneath his head. Well, that
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