It Happened One Night Ch 01 1

It happened one night

Chapter 1

Hello, Dearest Reader.

Here is the first instalment of my newest series. As we begin the journey of the lovely Cassidy Miller, I'm sure we can all learn a thing or two about what happens after you've had the greatest sex of your life.

I thank you all for your patience during the time it has taken me to get this first chapter out and am truly grateful to you all as you not only begin this new adventure with me but also continue to love and read my previous series.

Just as a reminder, please be sure to practice safe sex in real life after you indulge your fantasies here. Any sexual act described in this series is done between consenting adults who want to indulge their desires in a safe manner. I truly believe it's my responsibility as a writer to create fiction that encourages my readers to take better care of themselves in real life and not encourage behaviour that could put them at risk in any way.

I trust you to enjoy this with every safeguard in place. You really are the best readers I could ask for and I can't wait to hear your comments about this newest adventure. Enjoy.

Ravenna X

"Cassidy! Are you ready yet?" Lisa's voice cuts through my consciousness with a sharp sting.

I can feel the nausea still lingering from this morning and my head has only just stopped throbbing. Even with it gone, my energy has been drained trying to ignore it.

How can she possibly think I'm up for more partying?

"No! I am not going! I am too exhausted!" I say, with surprising passion given my current condition.

Lisa's sharp green eyes narrow, not caring a whit, and instead says:

"You promised me you would come to this

one

party. It's what this whole trip has been building to. Lots of gorgeous men, I promise."

I feel miffed that she has chosen to ignore how we have gone out to some event or another these past few days at her insistence. This mini break has been one long boozy, indulgent craze with only occasional trips out to see the sights in Barcelona. The Catalonian streets are awash with a modern, artsy feel. Like it's giving the finger to the more traditional, regal Madrid. My long hours spent researching the history of the Civil War and learning rudimentary Spanish have clearly been wasted.

I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and gulp it down, wiping my mouth unceremoniously as Lisa coats her plump lips with her nude lipstick, pouting in the mirror to take in the effect.

Then she smiles at me, and I know I am powerless against that. I sigh, knowing that she is right. I did offer to go, given Kate has made it very clear that she has reached her limit.

And believe me, that is not very difficult to reach

. She looks even worse than me, and that's saying something. Her black bob is unbrushed and she has refused to look at one of the many books she has brought with her on this holiday. Her soft grey eyes are bloodshot and she stands closer to the large fan as the heat becomes even more unbearable.

Deciding that no good will come from staying at the hotel, I resolve to live up to my promise and get dressed. The city is heating up in preparation for the long summer ahead, but even for late April, the heat is intense.

"Will you be alright here, Kate?" I ask, as I emerge from the bathroom some time later with a newly painted face and curled hair. It's amazing how a bit of lipstick and concealer can transform you.

"Sure. You know that my capacity for parties is limited. It'll do me good to just get my things ready for going home. Once I clear this headache that is."

"It still puzzles me how you get such good ideas like this, Kate." I don't elaborate further and Kate doesn't ask for clarification.

"You go and have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do," she says and we both laugh heartily.

And before I can stop myself, I wrap my arms around Kate tightly and it takes us both by surprise. It's not that we don't hug, it's just that it's not always necessary for us. Kate shows her love by making sure you feel safe, happy and listened to when you need it. To anyone who doesn't know her as well as I do, this would be seen as cold but she can make even the worst of moods feel unimportant. I can count on my hand the number of times we have even remotely disagreed or said a bad word to each other.

"Cassidy. Let's go! We're gonna be late!" Lisa says sharply, and I groan. If she weren't one of my dearest friends, I'd have strangled her by now.

"I'm coming. Give me a minute to get my bag," I say as I smile at Kate one last time before heading out. And I try to muster up a little bit of enthusiasm to fulfil my promise.

***

I immediately feel my heart sink as we enter into what I can only describe as the most underwhelming party in history. Yeah sure, the men here are good-looking, and judging by the copious amounts of champagne being served, I would definitely say they have pushed the boat out. But the people look like they just want it to be over already so they can stop pretending that they want to take a break from the cut- throat corporate world. Seriously, some of them are jiggling their hands and knees up and down so hard they look like they are going through withdrawal symptoms.

I roll my eyes at Lisa and try not to laugh but the firm shaking of hands that flash expensive looking watches at the wrists is seriously testing me. Lisa then approaches one of the suits and shakes his hand firmly as his eyes immediately latch onto her chest. I sigh, and settle in for an ulcer- inducing conversation that will no doubt follow from this.

Lisa is an event planner, and although she had very little in the way of experience at first, her beauty and charm opened doors that she kicked open with her sharp mind and her sky high Louboutins. Her easy smile combined with her keen eye for detail has made any party she hosts a resounding success.

God, why did Kate have to stay behind?

While Lisa is mingling with the next big person, Kate would be keenly aware anytime I need a glass of water, or just to sit down somewhere quiet. It's as if she craves to help people. Like a pathological need.

I still can't believe how lucky I am to have both these amazing women as my friends. You'd think that Kate and Lisa would bicker like nobody's business, but they get along very well. I have seen them discuss books for hours, and Lisa has even gotten Kate to come along on the occasional big event when I can barely get her to come out for dinner with me unless we pencil it in at least a month before. Kate and Lisa are my oldest and dearest friends, who came to London with me from our home town outside Bristol. And it has worked out well for most of us. Kate has her dream career in a book shop, and plans to open her own one day. And Lisa continues to go from strength to strength in her firm.

It was, ironically, Kate's idea to come here as a group but I suspect that it might have been a way to finally get me out of my funk. After close to a year of recovery, I have finally turned a corner and I didn't put up as much of a fight about going as they probably expected.

Yet, as I scan the room, I can confidently say that the most I will get out of this evening is a good few glasses of very expensive champagne and time with one of my best friends. But she is making the rounds of the room and I know that her attention will be pulled in many directions tonight. I don't want to be the type of person who needs to cling onto my friend's arm to feel like I can be even remotely sociable but there's only so much I can do when I don't really know anyone. Still I do my duty and smile sweetly, shaking the hands of every boring person in there.

"Thank you for coming. I imagine it has been a busy time for you," Lisa says to a man with a strong Russian accent. She has a sophisticated tone of voice that reflects many hours of practice mixing with a wealthy elite and I do my best to keep up. She enquires about his business in the Pig Iron trade and he immediately begins talking like she's not even there. Like she has just given him permission to talk non-stop about his favourite subject.

"I can only imagine what a profound impact you will have on the world," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm and Lisa shoots me a disapproving look.

He ignores my dig at his ego, and continues to speak to Lisa about his upcoming trip to some exotic destination that may or may not involve a woman of such beauty... I sigh in and excuse myself to the bar feeling dejected.

Lisa is easily the focus of the attention and you can tell she enjoys it. But she's classy and elegant to the point where it can be intimidating for a man who is not the perfect gentleman. I worry about her a lot of the time but I know she'd just brush off my concerns. Where Kate revels in solitude, Lisa is at her happiest when in the company of new people. While she is always part of our group and we spend a lot of our free time together, her idea of fun never involves a night in with a takeaway and

Netflix

unless she is desperately unwell, or if the party invitations have fallen by the wayside.

I smile with pride and admittedly a tiny bit of envy. Her green eyes are accented by long lashes and her classy white dress shows off her beautiful legs to perfection. She is slim, statuesque and hard as nails, but her loose chiffon dress gives just that little hint of softness. Her waist length blonde hair is tightly curled and her face is simply stunning. Even on her worst days she always knows how to look well put-together.

Lisa is someone you need, even if what she has to say in the moment can be uncomfortable or hurtful sometimes. Her greatest strength is her ability to make you feel like the most important person she will ever speak to in that moment. You never doubt her loyalty for a moment and she is a friend you can never get rid of, or even want to. Let me tell you, she made school so much easier for both me and Kate just by being associated with her.

As she moves on, she continues to flash her megawatt smile and her eyes scan the room for anyone who may not have been graced with her presence yet. As I watch her with pride, I wonder if the men here can properly enjoy the company of women. Yes, they may be wealthy, but some of them struggle to speak as she asks her insightful questions and it's clear that their usual tricks won't work with Lisa.

In keeping with her theme, I also dug out one of my white dresses that reaches my knees and shows off a hint of cleavage. But I am wearing flat sandals as opposed to Lisa's sky high heels. It's early spring here in Barcelona but still hotter than the UK can ever be and Lisa can walk in heels as easily as any other woman does in her flats. I can recall only a handful of times since we moved to London where she hasn't worn heels in some capacity.

Where Lisa and Kate are opposites in looks, I can honestly say I struggle to find where I fit in. My shoulder length brown hair is dark in the winter and then gets a lot of light streaks from the sun. My chocolate brown eyes contrast the icy blue of Kate's and Lisa's deep emerald ones. Kate is curvy and petite, and Lisa is built like a catwalk model, but I am somewhere in the middle. One day loving the wide hips and thin waist, the next swearing that a few more visits to the gym will finally rid me of my large bum. Not that my generous assets both behind and in front haven't driven some men crazy in the bedroom. I even catch one of the men in suits steal a cheeky glance at me as I walk past.

I stare at the choices of cocktails on the wall behind the bar, but then order myself a

Coke

and a big glass of water. The thought of alcohol makes me want to puke right now and so I resolve to stay sober tonight and just allow myself to indulge in good old people watching as a form of entertainment. I scan the room, hoping to find someone who I can have a good conversation with. It's then that my eyes latch onto someone in the corner, right at the back and tucked away conveniently near to the air conditioning unit.

He is sitting in a chair with his arms at his side and his neck arched to take in the gorgeously cool air. His wrist is thankfully bereft of any fancy watch and he is wearing a cream linen shirt open to reveal his chest. He is trim but not overly muscular and his well-toned thighs fill out his shorts very nicely and his forearms are exposed in that very enticing way by his shirt sleeves being rolled up to his elbows.

When he eventually straightens his neck to look up again, I can see the face of an older gentleman but it certainly isn't off-putting. I would guess he is in his early to mid forties at a push. He has faint lines around his deep blue eyes and mouth but his face is otherwise smooth and nicely tanned. He has a beard and well-trimmed sideburns with salt and pepper sprinkled strategically like the strokes of a paintbrush in his inky black hair. And as he looks up, he locks eyes with me and I can feel the blush move from my cheeks and down to my chest. I bite my lip and my eyes drop to the floor but I look up just a little from under my eyelids.

Bloody Hell, what's the matter with me?!

I am sure he isn't the only interesting and halfway decent looking chap here, but it's like he commands your attention the second he locks eyes with you. Like you're trapped in a beam with his focus being solely on you. I feel a tingle move all the way through me and I know exactly what that look means for me.

Then he looks away, and I almost hate him for not looking back again. We haven't even spoken and I am wanting his attention back on me. Every sensible instinct I have is telling me to let it go before I make a fool out of myself but I take a deep breath, pick up my drink and carefully step down from the bar stool and walk towards the back of the room. My stomach is doing flips the whole time and I want to grab onto the side of the wall to stop myself from going any further.

"Are you looking for some company, or shall I take myself back to my bar stool?" I say, almost involuntarily and I feel the blush on the back of my neck climbing slowly up to the top of my head.

The man looks astonished, but the look doesn't stay on his face for long. I can tell he is at the very least intrigued.

"You're welcome to sit down, Honey. I have no objection." His accent is American, but no particular dialect comes to mind. He sounds like one of those old-money cultured types, but then I look down toward his sandals and I stifle a laugh.

"What's the matter, Sweetheart? A little lonely tonight?" He says in that silky smooth baritone of his and my stomach flips again.

"Actually, I wanted to ask: What on Earth are you doing wearing

Birkenstocks

? Did you leave your

Crocs

at home?"

Why did I say that? That's so rude!

He stares at me incredulously for a moment, but then replies smoothly "That's not normally the first thing a woman asks me, Sweetie."

I wanted to have a talk with a halfway decent looking man, and he dismissed my dig with humour. Now I feel oddly bereft and I can't allow this state of affairs to be.

"Then let me rephrase: If not your shoes, what is the first thing you think women notice?"

He smiles, "There's no way I can answer that question without either insulting a beautiful woman's intelligence, or being disrespectful to myself."

I want to push further, harder, but the reasonable nature of his reply wins me over and instead I say:

"My intention was not to insult you. I was just intrigued, and admittedly a little disappointed, when I saw such a good-looking and sophisticated man wearing those monstrosities."

He doesn't seem too bothered by that, in fact, he zeros in on my face to scrutinise a little closer. I swallow hard.

"My footwear hasn't stopped me from talking to pretty girls in the past, and even if it did, that can be helped by simply changing them. Could the same be said for a smart mouth?"

"Being a little under the weather means that my brain to mouth filter isn't working to full capacity today. What's your excuse for wearing such awful shoes?" I say, not wanting to be ruffled.

He smiles and shakes his head, and then takes a sip of his glass of water before moving the subject on.

"Hi. My name is Grayson. What's your name?" He answers back calmly.

I pause for a moment, resisting the urge to laugh again, and my face remains impassive this time.

"Cassidy. Or 'Cassy', if you're brave enough."

Jesus! Where did that come from?

He gives an amused grin "What can I get you to drink, Cassy?"

"Water. And lots of it," I reply, deadpan.

He smiles and he calls over the waiter who then returns some moments later with a large decanter of water with two glasses.

I frown questioningly.

"I gave up over a year ago. Not my style." He says, looking at the rim of his glass before raising it to his lips. Seemingly, this is a man with addictions far more complex than booze.

"What brings you to this party?" I ask, curious to know more.

"I am here because a friend told me it would be a good idea to come and catch up with some old colleagues. And where better to do that than in Europe? How about you?"

I smile approvingly and raise my glass. "I have this friend who brings interesting people together, and I promised that I would come tonight. It is the reason we came on this trip after all. Seeing the sights was just a bonus. But a welcome one. Is this your first time or do you come here a lot?"

He smiles back and then replies "As often as I can."

I am finding conversation with him to be both exhausting and fascinating. I long to know more and he wants to get to know me too, but he is clearly very guarded. I have to work to get him to open up. Not normally the case when I go on a date.

Usually the guy I am with either ends up talking way too much about himself and not allowing me to get a word in edgeways, or he answers questions with a non-committal little shrug. This man gives as good as he gets, and I can tell his years give him an edge over me. But I am not prepared to give up that easily.

He looks at me intrigued. "Your friend is the leggy blonde over there. The one my friend can't stop eyefucking?" He gestures with his head toward Lisa moving around the room like a queen, and I can see the lusty looks they make behind her back while they are the very example of Chivalry to her face.

"She is a very beautiful woman. It would be silly for him not to look. She is also a lot cleverer than most of the men in this room."

There! Stick that in your pipe and smoke it.

He smiles in admiration, if reluctantly, "I have no doubt that your friend is intelligent, and you'd have to be blind not to see how gorgeous she is. However, you know as well as I do that you have to be tough when you're an attractive woman, Sweetheart."

The endearment is unwelcome, even if what he says isn't completely untrue. And although my annoyance is rising, I quash it down and move to change the subject.

"Have you seen much of the city on your travels, Grayson?"

He smiles and responds in kind, "I already know it fairly well. Have you seen much of it?"

I can hear the excitement start to ooze through my voice as I recite the tales of me going to the

Gothic Quarter

early in the morning, or visiting

La Sagrada Familia

with my friends throughout the day. I even mention my rather ambitious plan of visiting Montserrat at some point.

"Do you like travelling?" He asks, with a genuine interest.

"Oh yes. I have so many places on my list I want to see. Do you... live in one of the bigger cities in the US? I ask curiously