Page 28 of Tempt

“Why?”

“Because I lost five hours last night. Because I lost a night a decade ago, that could have turned into something. Because of that decade of baggage. Maybe you won’t give me a decade to fix it, but let me try to dosomething.”

I laugh. “You just promised no expectations.”

“I asked you if it would help if I did. You didn’t take me up on it.”

Letting go of my suitcase, I shove at his chest and he catches my hands, hauling me against him as I gasp his name in protest.

“Would it help?” he whispers against my mouth.

“I don’t know.”

He kisses me, hard, and I crawl up his body, winding my arms around his neck. This is a mistake, but it’s a mistake that tastes good. And it feels good, too, which makes it the most dangerous kind of mistake—where I could forget it will end badly.

But one night wasn’t enough. Maybe three more nights will quench my thirst for all things Sam.

After a few more hours ofsleep at his place, and a restorative hot shower—which I make in peace, while he makes some calls in search of a car—we walk to his favourite breakfast place for a late brunch. By the time we’re done eating, a friend of his arrives.

He shakes Sam’s hand, then turns to me. “Alex Acosta.”

The name niggles at me. It takes me three spins through the mental Rolodex. He writes young adult fiction, and his second book rode the bestseller list for a few weeks. “The novelist?”

“Busted.” He grins and turns back to Sam. “You have excellent taste in friends.” When he turns back to me, he leans in. “Nobody ever recognizes me, except maybe other writers.”

Sam howls, and I turn pink. “Well…”

“What?” Alex grins even wider. “Are you a writer, too? Sam didn’t say.”

“Sam doesn’t really know,” I tell him. “Not really. I haven’t told him my pen name. We’re old friends from university, and we reconnected last night on the train to nowhere. It’s a long story. Anyway, the short version is I’m an erotica writer, mostly. Nothing you’d have read.”

“Don’t assume that.” He bites his lip, and if I wasn’t head-over-something for Sam, I’d be all over Alex. He’s adorable in a stern silver fox kind of way. “I shouldn’t say that, of course.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“And yours would be safe with me,” he says, winking.

“Maybe I’ll tell Sam my pen name for Christmas, and he can share it then.”

Alex laughs at that, then hands Sam a set of keys. “She’s parked out front. Be gentle on her.”

“I will.”

“Will I see you on Christmas Eve?”

“Nah, won’t be back until the twenty-fifth, right?” Sam looks at me.

I nod.

“So I’ll make fun of your brother all on my own, then.”

“Best of luck to you,” Sam says gruffly. “But if he’s an asshole, just give him space, okay?”

Alex waves him off, and I notice that Sam doesn’t say anything about the middle of the night ride to his sister-in-law’s rescue.

When we’re alone again, Sam reaches across the booth and rubs his index finger against mine. “You don’t need to share your pen name if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not really a secret. I just didn’t want you to Google me the way you searched up the train stoppage so quickly.”

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