Hot Boss - Anne Marsh Page 0,57

of nightcaps. Cognac, calvados, scotch and soda—eeny, meeny, miny, moe. I wage a brief internal debate about the relative merits of adding more alcohol to the mess I’ve made of tonight and decide against it.

Instead, I strip down and slip into bed.

And wait.

The night may not have gone as planned, but I’ve realized something important. Something I should have figured out days and weeks ago.

The woman I want sleeping by my side tonight isn’t Molly at all. It’s Hazel. I feel like there should be some way to share this revelation with her, but I’m better at business than I am at poetry, so I’m still planning my explanation when she finally emerges from the bathroom.

She’s wearing a UC Santa Cruz T-shirt, the silky skin of her bare legs lit up by the glow from the Strip. A moment later, she slides into bed, punching a button on the panel in the wall on her side and plunging the room into stygian darkness. The technology’s amazing, but I’d rather see her face.

“Did tonight go as planned?” she asks. “Your conversation with Molly?”

I want to cup her shoulder with my hand. Want to pull her back against me, bury my face in her hair, her scent, her presence here with me. I suspect any one of those things would only make her angrier. So instead I give her the truth.

“Not at all.”

I feel her nod. “Where did it go wrong?”

There are so many possible answers. For ten years, Molly was my center, my home, my heart. I thought we were going to be together forever, and then, when we weren’t, I thought it was my fault. And maybe it was. And maybe it wasn’t. What I realized tonight, however, is that it doesn’t matter anymore. Molly is my past and I’m okay with that.

What I crave now is an entirely different future with Hazel. What I want with her is so much more than just the no-strings sex we promised each other. She’s insanely smart and far too bossy, impossibly sexy and way too good for me. I’m just slow to realize it. And to realize that maybe I could have had a chance with her, but that after tonight she might not believe me.

“Everywhere,” I whisper into the silence between us.

The sheets rustle and I wonder if Hazel’s about to get up, to leave. I should reach out, but I don’t know what more to say, so instead I say nothing as her breathing evens out and she falls asleep.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

MORNINGS AFTER SUCK. There’s the moment when you can no longer kid yourself that you’re asleep or that the events of the previous night are some kind of nightmare. The mad flight to Vegas, the rodeo, the after-party and my stupid chasing after Molly march through my head in an endless loop. I was so stupid. At some point today—although I’m not certain what time it is right now—we have to head back to California. I also have to figure out how to apologize and fix what I screwed up last night. I don’t really feel like getting up, though, so when my phone buzzes, I try unsuccessfully to telepathically silence it.

The second time it buzzes, Hazel fishes it out from beneath a pillow and silently hands it over. I can’t tell if she reads the message preview or not, but I don’t have secrets from Hazel, not anymore. She’s seen me at my rawest, my most open, and it was okay. She didn’t run screaming, and I count that as a win.

Molly’s been angry-texting me for the last two hours. I get it. I drive her nuts and as soon as I walked away from her, she thought of all the things she should have said but didn’t.

The latest text? Stay out of my business, Jack.

I ignore it.

I also have a voice mail from Evan that is far more profane than Molly’s message. In his own words, I’m not to look at her, talk to her, talk to his manager, talk to his employer or otherwise stick my “goddamn nose” into their business. Executive summary? He’s not happy about the background check I initiated. I’m guessing my PI was more of an eager beaver than I anticipated, because it sounds like he’s already checked out an impressive amount of Evan. I just hope that doesn’t include taking naked pictures of the man. I can live without ever seeing his dick.

Hazel sits up, tucking the sheet under her arms. “What