Page 18 of His Favorite Mistake

Sex itself was as rare as a blue moon.

In my profession, any dalliance I had involved taking a risk. If I didn’t want to end up in the gossip rags, I had to tread carefully.

Not that I had a single worry about Jed selling information about me. Every moment I spent in his company increased my sense that he was a decent guy. He obviously liked things a bit on the rougher end, which I’d enjoyed immensely.

If that was what he’d meant by pushing and testing me, I was happy to sign up for more of the same.

I hadn’t been pushed or tested in so long that I’d forgotten the satisfaction afterward. That whispered “good girl” had affected me more profoundly than a thousand empty compliments.

Knowing he was sharing the pleasure with me had made me damn near euphoric. I’d given him that. My willingness to be who he needed for a night—and who I’d never dared to be before—had offered us both so much.

And now I was alone on his couch.

Sitting up, I rubbed my eyes and took in my surroundings. A small lamp shone from a table in the corner, casting the room in a soft glow. A plate and cup sat on the coffee table in front of the couch, and I grinned at the cheese and crackers and cup of tea he’d left for me.

Aww.So much for him not being sweet. Maybe he was in denial.

I reached for the cup and took a sip, unsurprised it was lukewarm. I didn’t know how much time I’d been out. It could’ve been ten minutes or three hours. Darkness still pushed at the window behind the couch so it couldn’t have been too long.

So where was my lover?

Whoa. That word didn’t sit easy, probably because I hadn’t had nearly enough of them. So maybe I should rectify that, huh? Now that I’d taken this step tonight, I could bang with impunity. Just say to hell with my life, throw on a wig and let fate blow me where it would.

Too bad I didn’t want to be blown anywhere except in the direction of my sexy ex-cop.

Who absolutely wasnotmine. He hadn’t even brought me up to his bed, for God’s sake.

But he had tucked me in and left me a snack. And tea. Spiced tea, with a hint of vanilla. The kind that made me want to curl up with a novel and dream.

I took a quick glance around the room at the matching armchairs, widescreen TV, and books and newspapers stacked on every available surface. When it came to reading material, I’d have my pick here. Why didn’t it surprise me that he was a reader?

My attention snagged on a cardboard box next to the couch and I leaned over the arm to poke through the contents. It was a box of books. Not different books, the same one. There had to be at least twenty-five copies.

I pried out one of them and bit my lip.Final Justiceby Danny Markham. I’d never heard of the author, though I did enjoy the occasional suspense novel. This one had the White House on the cover and some covert spy dude hiding in the bushes.

Interesting.

So why did Jed have a box of this guy’s books? Maybe he was a friend. Or maybe Jed was the author.

I frowned. Nah, that probably wasn’t likely. He’d said he was an ex-Detective but he hadn’t said a thing about writing.

Then again, if these were his books, he had a pseudonym for a reason. Obviously, he didn’t want people to know his true identity.

Damn, I should’ve thought of that when I’d used Peyton as my stage name. Anything to add another layer between the real person and the public eye was a good idea. Helped save one’s sanity.

“Too late now,” I said under my breath, sitting back with the novel.

I flipped to the acknowledgments page, my eyes widening as I read Danny’s thanks to “the boys in blue”. Hmm. So maybe Jed and I weren’t so far apart after all. We both dealt with the public, in very different ways.

Now to get him to admit this was really him…

Unable to stifle my curiosity, I read a few pages while nibbling on the cheese and crackers he’d left me. My growling stomach appreciated the snack, and the book fed my love of thrillers. I was on chapter three and thoroughly sucked into the female protagonist’s problem of how to get into the White House to reach the endangered President before I looked up again. I set the book aside and rose, dragging the blanket with me.

If Jed wasn’t coming back to me, I’d just have to find him.

I checked out the modest dining room and kitchen, smiling at the homey touches of a rooster wall clock and framed family photos. Best of all was the plaid dog bed beneath the kitchen table, full of a gold and brown sleeping pooch. And he had a tangled dark mass between his front paws that could only be my wig.

Swallowing a giggle, I padded down the hall to what must be the bedrooms as quietly as possible in my boots. I probably should just take them off, but Jed seemed to like them.

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