Waking Up with the Boss by Sheri Whitefeather

flame on the candle, pressing it between his thumb and forefinger. A moment later, he tucked the Victorian poets next to the empty bottle.
    They trailed across the sand, heading for the mansion.
    Once they reached the main entrance, they put on their shoes and made their way to the second floor.
    As they stood in the hallway outside their rooms, she said, “We’re here.” It was better than saying nothing.
    He set the basket on the ground, but he didn’t respond.
    In the silence, she attempted to smooth her mussed hair. She could still feel the excitement of lying beneath him. Was she an idiot for having stopped it?
    â€œMy key is in my jacket,” he said.
    â€œOh, I’m sorry.” She removed the garment and handed it to him, hating to let it go. She liked being snuggled up in something that belonged to him.
    â€œThanks.”
    â€œYou’re welcome.” Carol’s key was in her purse. She tried for a smile. “It was quite a night.”
    He smiled, too. “It was, wasn’t it?”
    She nodded, quietly confused. “I’ve never really had an affair,” she found herself saying. “I’ve only been with men I was involved with.”
    â€œYou don’t have to explain. I understand. That wasn’t even supposed to be an issue.”
    â€œI know. But we still have two more days of hanging out together, and I don’t want it to be awkward.”
    â€œI should have considered the couples-only thing a little more carefully. But I guess I just wanted to spend some time with you.”
    She’d had a crush on him for a long time. If she slept with him, would it get better or worse? She honestly didn’t know. “I need to go.” Before she did something crazy.
    He waited while she unlocked her door. The key wasn’t the electric card kind. It was the old-fashioned, fit-in-the-hole type. She struggled to make it work, but only because her hands were shaking.
    â€œDo you need help?” he asked.
    â€œNo, I’ve got it.” She finally managed. “Good night, Jake.”
    â€œNight, Carol.”
    She went into her room and closed the door, her pulse skittering, her emotions hanging in the balance. She flipped on the light, feeling more alone than ever.
    And wishing that he was there with her.

Five
    C arol didn’t get ready for bed. She didn’t get undressed. She didn’t do anything, except battle her hunger for Jake.
    Was Lena right in what she’d said? Was life too short not to go after what you wanted? Carol was beginning to think so. Or her libido certainly was.
    But could she actually go through with it? And what about Jake—was he still willing? Or had he come to his senses?
    She touched a finger to her lips, recalling the taste of his kisses. Should she text Jake to see how he was faring? And if she did, what should she say?
    Something honest, she decided. Something to remind him that she was on the other side of those double doors.
    Right. As if he was likely to forget.
    She retrieved her phone and typed, Can’t stop thinking about you . Then, with her heart in her throat, she hit the send button. At least she was facing her feelings.
    She waited, hoping he was near his phone and hoping she’d done the right thing. She didn’t have to wait long.
    He answered, Me, too. About u.
    Bubbling up inside, she felt like a teenager conversing with her longtime crush. She hastily wrote, Don’t know what to do about it.
    He replied, Are u in bed?
    No. Still in my clothes.
    So am I. Except my shirt.
    Carol imagined how he looked, bare-chested and tousled from the beach, tapping out intimate little things to her.
    This is weird , she texted him.
    I know. Really weird. But I like it.
    Me, too. Sort of seems like we’re sexting.
    Yeah, it does. A second later, he asked, If I invited u to my room, would u come over?
    Her pulse jumped. But just to be sure that he meant what he said, she inquired, Do