Thanks to darkniciad for editing this series.
*
Their conversation ended with whispered words and kissing noises. Louisa hung up the phone and lay in the afterglow, languidly petting her mostly-naked body. A man who could make her feel this good, even over the phone, deserved a treat. Absolutely, she decided, she would shave. She knew this was common for women who were Richard's age, but for a woman nearer to forty than thirty, the thought carried the thrill of a naughty adventure.
Just as she was running her fingers through the hair in question, a knock sounded at the hotel room door. For the second time that day, she bounded off the bed and ran a hasty scavenger hunt for her robe. She tugged her skirt down around her thighs and threw on the terrycloth wrap.
It was the guy who'd asked for her business card earlier, the silver-haired gent with the wire-rimmed eyeglasses. He eyed her disheveled state.
"I'm sorry. Did I catch you at a bad time?"
"Oh, no, I was just, uh, going to get cleaned up." For some reason she resisted saying
going to take a shower
in front of this man. It just seemed too intimate. Yet she was standing there with the caramel from her recent orgasm oozing down her inner thighs.
The caller was peering over her shoulder. His blue eyes crystallized into a darker, almost steel color. Louisa's face adopted a what-do-you-want expression. She looked at him pointedly.
Hastily he jerked his attention back to her face. "My name is Mark Wolfe. We met after your presentation. I wonder if you would join me for dinner."
Louisa was still reeling from the sudden turn of events. One minute she had been lazing in the warmth of making love with Richard, the next she was confronting a stranger at her door. The carousel of her mind wouldn't turn fast enough. But her gut instinct was sure.
Get rid of him
.
"I'm sorry, I already have plans." She smiled what she hoped was a polite go-away smile.
"How about breakfast tomorrow, then?"
Wolfe was insistent if nothing else. Cornered, Louisa agreed.
She closed the door, turned and froze. Strewn on the floor were her pantyhose, the shiny red blouse she had worn that morning, and the red lace brassiere she had flung across the room while she was having phone sex with Richard. Half-hidden in the rumpled bedsheets was the toy her lover had gifted her with. No wonder her visitor had gaped. He'd probably gotten a good noseful of the evidence as well.
She closed her eyes tightly.
I cannot, I absolutely cannot, have breakfast with this guy
. She debated calling his room immediately to cancel. Yet what excuse could she give? Besides, it would be weird, maybe even childish.
Oh, what the hell, it was just thirty minutes of her time. Firmly she banished Mark Wolfe to a far corner of her mind. Instead she concentrated on packing as much as she could.
But by morning her gut had reasserted itself. She scooted downstairs early, checked out and left her bags with the concierge. Louisa was all set to give this guy the slip, but her conscience scolded her about being rude. Okay, she wouldn't just stand the guy up. She'd tell him something had come up.
"Could you please ring the room of Mark Wolfe for me?"
"Certainly..." The clerk smiled courteously as he checked his computer. Then his forehead wrinkled. "I'm sorry, ma'am, it appears he has checked out."
"Really!" Louisa cheered up immediately. Off the hook! It bothered her not a bit that her would-be date had skipped out. She sailed into the restaurant in a good mood.
But her good humour vanished quickly. Mark folded his newspaper and stood up, extending his hand in greeting. "We're both early, I see."
Reluctantly Louisa shook his hand. His grip was firm and cool. He held on a bit longer than necessary.
Thankfully the maitre d' interrupted. "Table for two?"
"Yes," they both said.
Silently Louisa followed Mark to their table. Coffee was brought, and the two made small talk about the conference for a few minutes. Mark told her again how impressed he was with her work. Louisa made the standard thank-you noises, wondering why he had asked her here, and guessing the answer at the same time.
Mark finally got to the point. "I hope you don't mind my asking if you're attached." His gaze flicked to her bare left hand.
The smile he offered was clearly meant to be charming, but Louisa fought an urge to run from the table. "Yes, I am."
But her thoughts of Richard carried a certain tenuousness. Her lover was not quite nineteen. And the original plan was that he would stay with her "for a while," until he got on his feet. How long would it be before Richard started eying babes closer to his own age?
The Wolfe circled. "But you're not engaged."
"It doesn't matter," she said breezily. "I'm happy."
"You don't sound so sure." His chin swiveled. "Wouldn't you rather be looking toward marriage?"
The waiter brought their breakfast. Despite the unsettling turn the conversation had taken, Louisa dug into her scrambled eggs and hash browns. She was hungry.
Eating gave her time to think. She swallowed a mouthful of toast and said, "I really don't want to discuss my personal life."
