Just a Little Sex... (Blaze, 9) Read online

  For the first time since that blonde dropped her bombshell, Zoe began to believe that Drake might love her, despite everything.

  “I’m sorry,” he went on urgently. “More sorry than you can ever imagine. But it wasn’t like she said. I’m not some kind of serial sleazebag. I was just weak for a moment. You’re the one I love, Zoe. Too much perhaps. I was missing you terribly and wanting you like mad. I couldn’t stop thinking about you and it got me so darned horny. It happened on the last night of the conference. We’d all been drinking heavily.”

  “You never drink at all when socializing at work,” she reminded him with a rush of anger, not wanting to be soothed by excuses and explanations. Didn’t he understand what he’d done? He could call it whatever he liked but he’d still been intimate with another woman. And whispered sweet nothings in her ear while he’d been doing it.

  Perhaps that hurt even more than his actual physical betrayal. The things he must have said.

  “The conference was virtually over,” he continued explaining. “I didn’t have to drive anywhere so I let my hair down for once. Look, she threw herself at me. Followed me into the elevator at the end of the night. Practically ravished me then and there. I hated myself afterward, but what can I say? I’m not a saint. I’m just a man. I made a mistake. I’m so terribly sorry, Zoe. I never meant to hurt you. I never thought you’d find out.”

  “Obviously.” She could no longer look at him. All she could think about now was that blonde and him, doing it in an elevator of all places. How tacky!

  “Don’t be like that, Zoe. Try to understand.”

  “I don’t think I can,” she said wretchedly. Which meant there was nothing left to do but to split up with Drake. She’d vowed after Greg that she’d never put up with a man treating her badly ever again. Which was why she’d been manless and dateless for almost four long years.

  Still, the thought of going back to a single lifestyle made her shudder. She didn’t want to be that lonely ever again. She’d thought she never would be. She thought she had Drake. She thought after a couple of years of their being girlfriend and boyfriend, they’d eventually get married and have kids and live happily ever after.

  A sob broke from her throat, tears stinging her eyes.

  Drake groaned. “Don’t cry, darling. Please don’t cry. If you forgive me,” he urged, reaching over the table and grabbing her hands, “it won’t ever happen again. I promise.”

  A sudden and overwhelming wave of bitterness had Zoe yanking her hands away from his. “And what happens the next time you’re at a conference, and some sexy-looking blonde with big boobs throws herself at you?”

  “I’ll know what I’m risking if I go with her, so I won’t.”

  Zoe stared at him with pained confusion in her eyes. “But you’d still want to?”

  He groaned again. “For pity’s sake, Zoe. I’m only thirty years old. I’m a normal red-blooded male in his sexual prime. Loving you doesn’t mean I won’t ever be physically attracted to another woman ever again. That’s unrealistic and unnatural. But I give you my word, I will never act on any such attraction ever again.”

  Zoe stared at him. She wanted to believe him. She really did.

  But then she thought of that blonde and what she had said in parting.

  Poor you.

  “I think,” she said tautly, “that I’ll skip lunch and go for a walk. I need some fresh air. And time to think.”

  “Please don’t do that, Zoe. Stay and talk to me.”

  Zoe shook her head then bent to pick up her handbag. Staying and talking to Drake was the last thing she should do. He was too good a talker. Too good a salesman. Perhaps too good a liar.

  “We can work this out, Zoe,” he insisted. “Truly we can. I don’t want to lose you, darling. I love you. And I know you love me.”

  She glared at him. “Yes, but your idea of love and my idea of love are poles apart. I know I would never have done what you did. Never, no matter what the circumstances.”

  “Isn’t there anything I can say to make you understand?”

  “Not right now.”

  “What about later?”

  “Leave it for today, Drake.”

  “I can’t. I’ll call ‘round tonight after you get home from work.”

  “If you must.”

  “I must. I won’t let you go, Zoe. I mean it.”

  “I know you do,” she said. Which was another reason why she needed to get away from him. Because she feared Drake would talk her into forgiving him without her ever understanding what had happened, and why? Love was a very weakening emotion. In a woman, anyway.

  She stood up just as the waiter arrived with their meals. For a split second, Zoe was tempted to stay and shovel every morsel of the delicious-looking food down her throat.

  Misery always made her hungry.

  But being overweight had made her even more miserable, so she knew there would be no comfort for her there. No comfort in Drake’s presence, either. She wanted to strangle him for doing this to her, for spoiling everything, for being a typical male.

  She’d thought he was different. Deeper.

  But he wasn’t.

  “I have to go,” she said raggedly, and fled.

  2

  ZOE DIDN’T GO for a walk. When she felt more tears threatening, she headed straight back for the office, making it to the downstairs lobby of the multi-storyed building in six minutes flat. She kept a tight grip on herself in the ride up in the elevator, since she wasn’t alone, but could feel her control slipping by the time the doors whooshed back on the twelfth floor.

  Unfortunately, the rooms which housed Phillips & Cox, Attorneys at Law, were right down the end of a corridor along which more people were coming and going. It was lunchtime, after all.

  Crying was not an option ‘til she had total privacy.

  Clenching her jaw to keep her chin from quivering, Zoe launched herself down the gray-carpeted hallway, delivering a plastic smile whenever she passed an acquaintance.

  Finally, she made it, only to find that June, their receptionist, was eating lunch at her desk, instead of in the café downstairs, as she usually did.

  “What are you doing back so early?” June probed when Zoe walked back in. “Weren’t you supposed to be having lunch with the boyfriend down at the Rockery?”

  Zoe’s teeth clenched even harder in her jaw.

  “He was called back to work early,” she managed with feigned nonchalance, “so I thought I’d come back and have my coffee here.”

  “Silly you. I’d have stayed down there. The coffee here is just instant muck. You could have had the real McCoy at the Rockery.”

  “Oh, well…” Zoe shrugged, smiled an indifferent smile, then sped down to the tearoom, hoping it would be blessedly deserted and she could have a good quiet cry. But as luck would have it, her boss was there, making coffee and muttering away to herself. ‘Til she saw Zoe.

  “What on earth are you doing back so early?” Fran asked. “I thought you were having lunch with Drake?”

  It was too much for Zoe.

  Fran literally gaped when Zoe burst into tears. In the six months Zoe had worked for her, the girl had never cried once. Or even seemed flustered. She was so cool and competent that sometimes Fran forgot she was only twenty-five.

  Fran was not by nature a soft or sympathetic person, but she’d had considerable experience in handling weeping females. Considerable experience in the cause of such weeping as well. Her part of the practice specialized in divorce cases.

  Fran didn’t have to be told that a man was behind Zoe’s tears. And there was only one man in Zoe’s life. The very charming and successful Drake Carson.

  Plucking a handful of tissues from the box sitting on the counter, Fran pressed them into her assistant’s hands, then led the weeping girl back to her office. Fortunately, this didn’t require going past June, who was the office gossip.

  “Sit,” she ordered, pushing Zoe down into one of the large comfy c
hairs facing her desk before returning to her own black office chair. There, she waited patiently ‘til the worst of the weeping was over.

  Zoe’s sobbing eventually subsided to a sniffle.

  “Can I get you something?” Fran asked at that point, her tone matter-of-fact. “Coffee? Brandy? A hit man?”

  Zoe’s head jerked up and she laughed a rueful laugh.

  “Want to tell me about it?” Fran said.

  Zoe looked at her boss and suddenly saw, not just the smart-as-a-whip lawyer, but the woman. Thirty-eight and still very attractive, with jet-black hair—cut into a short chic bob—piercing gray eyes, a pale unlined skin and an hourglass figure which looked good in the severe black suits she favoured. Highly respected by her colleagues and clients, she was married to Angus Phillips, the senior partner in the firm.

  But what about before that? She must have had other men, a woman like her. Plenty of them. She’d seen so much more of life than Zoe. She might be able to explain what had happened between Drake and that blonde so that Zoe could forgive him and go on as before.

  Because that was what she really wanted to do. Now that she’d had time to think about it, breaking up with Drake was just too horrendous to contemplate.

  So she told her boss what had happened. Fran listened without interruption, her face not giving away a thing. But Zoe suspected she wasn’t shocked. Which shocked Zoe.

  “Aren’t you surprised?” she said at last.

  Fran smiled a dry smile. “Nothing men do ever surprises me, Zoe. The more attractive the man, the less I’m surprised. So no, I’m not surprised. I think it’s a shame, however, that you found out about Drake’s little indiscretion. If you hadn’t, you’d still be perfectly happy with him.”

  “But…but…it wasn’t just a little indiscretion. He was unfaithful. And more than once, I suspect. I don’t believe for a moment he only slept with that woman on just the last night.”

  “Why? Was she so very beautiful?”

  “She was stunning, with the biggest boobs I’ve ever seen outside of one of those magazines.”

  “Maybe he has a secret boob fetish. Or maybe she gave him something you don’t. Forgive me for prying, Zoe, but I can’t advise you without knowing all the facts. Are you sure you satisfy Drake in bed?”

  Zoe floundered at this point. “I…I thought I did.”

  “Why? Because you have sex a lot?”

  “Well…isn’t that the main criterion?” Zoe had always been under the impression that most men complained that they weren’t getting enough.

  “Not necessarily. Some men are more interested in quality rather than quantity. They like different positions. Different places. You’re not one of those silly girls who insist on always doing it in bed with the lights out, do you?”

  “Of course not,” she denied hotly. And in truth, she didn’t.

  It was Drake’s idea that they always do it in bed. He was big on creating a romantic atmosphere with satin sheets and scented candles and soft dreamy music.

  Not that she wasn’t happy with the arrangement. Zoe liked comfort. And candlelight was so very flattering. As for different positions… Zoe was more than grateful that Drake didn’t want to do it doggie-style on the floor, or up against the wall in the shower or with her on top. Even thinking of the physical exposure such positions would inflict on her made her cringe.

  Now she wondered if Drake had secretly craved doing it in just those ways all along, but hadn’t wanted to ask. It had taken a brazen blonde in an elevator to fulfil his sexual fantasies.

  “What about oral sex?” Fran persisted, and Zoe could feel herself blushing. But it did seem odd having this very frank conversation with her boss when up ‘til today, their relationship had been strictly professional.

  “It’s…er…not my favorite form of foreplay,” she confessed. She’d done it once. Sort of. For about twenty seconds. But thankfully, Drake stopped her before the unthinkable happened. He’d never asked for it again, or steered her that way a second time, and she certainly wasn’t going to do it off her own bat.

  “I don’t think it’s Drake’s, either,” she added, a touch defensively.

  “Really? That’s unusual. Most men are pretty keen. But I guess it takes all types and you’d know your boyfriend best.”

  “I thought I did,” Zoe said wretchedly. “Maybe I don’t know him at all. Maybe our whole relationship is a sham. Maybe he’s having affairs right, left and center.”

  “I don’t think so, Zoe. If he was, I’d know about it.”

  “Huh?”

  Fran gave her a droll look. “Angus and I have been living in the same building as Drake since the time you started dating him. We share the same garage, the same elevators, the same swimming pool and gym. I’ve never seen him with another girl except you. Not once. Clearly, he’s not in the habit of two-timing you, or I’d have caught him at it by now.”

  Zoe brightened a bit at this news. “But what does Drake mean when he says it was just sex with that blonde, and that she meant nothing to him? I got the impression he didn’t even like her. I can’t seem to get my mind ‘round that concept. How can you have sex with someone you don’t even like, or really know? Is it just a male thing? Is that why I can’t understand it?”

  Fran gave her an incredulous look. “Haven’t you ever fantasized about having sex with a stranger, or met a man and been struck with instant lust for him? All you want is to get laid, right then and there. No getting-to-know-you stuff. No prelims. No niceties. Just down-and-dirty sex.”

  “Good Lord, no,” Zoe denied, her face hotting up again. “I can’t think of anything worse. I have to at least like a man before I can go to bed with him.” She’d even liked the ghastly Greg, ‘til he’d shown his true colors. “I haven’t even looked at another man since going out with Drake, let alone want to get laid by one.”

  “You’ve never had a one-night stand?”

  “No. Never.”

  “My, my, you are an original, Zoe. Maybe that’s why Drake is so crazy about you, and doesn’t want to lose you. Such romantic idealism and tunnel-vision loyalty is rare in this day and age. He could trust you anywhere, anytime. Which brings us back to the point. Can you ever trust him again? Should you or should you not break up with him? Should you believe him when he says he’s sorry, and give him another chance?”

  “That’s exactly my problem,” Zoe said unhappily. “I honestly don’t know what to do.”

  “And I honestly can’t tell you what to do. It has to be your decision. All I can say is I’d like a dollar for every woman I’ve represented who’s later regretted breaking up her marriage over a spot of adultery. She ends up miserable and lonely whilst the husband simply moves on to the other woman.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Zoe mumbled. “Being miserable and lonely.”

  “Then give him another chance. What have you got to lose?”

  “My pride and self-respect?”

  Fran laughed. “Most of the divorced women I know don’t find pride and self-respect much solace in their beds at night.”

  But it wasn’t the sex Zoe was going to miss so much. It was the company. And the sense of purpose. The promise of a happy future together.

  She sighed. “I suppose I will take him back. In the end. But I hate the thought of his being forgiven so easily and so quickly. Drake’s coming over after work tonight and I just know he’ll talk me ‘round in no time flat.”

  “You’d rather him suffer a while longer, is that it?”

  “Yes, I guess so. Then he might understand how much he hurt me by what he did.”

  “You know, that’s not such a bad idea,” Fran said, twisting back and forth on her swivel chair, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Why don’t you go away somewhere for the weekend and not tell him? Let him sweat for a while. Let him worry and wonder over where you are, and who you might be with. I guarantee, when you finally get back, he won’t take you for granted ever again.”

  The idea di
d appeal.

  “Why not go home for the weekend?” Fran suggested.

  “That’d be the first place Drake would think of. He’d ring there for sure.”

  “Haven’t you heard of little white lies, Zoe? Just don’t answer the phone yourself and get whoever does to say they hadn’t seen hide nor hair of you.”

  “Yes, I could do that, but the trouble is Betty would ask all sorts of awkward questions.”

  “Who’s Betty? I thought you were an only child and your dad, a widower.”

  “I am and he is. Betty’s his housekeeper. She’s a lovely lady, but she’s far too intuitive and too darned good at worming things out of me. I honestly don’t want to tell her about this. Drake came home with me at Christmas and he wasn’t on his best behavior. He never is when he’s bored stiff. I don’t want to blot his copybook any further, not if I aim to forgive him.”

  “Okay, so home’s out…” Fran started chewing the end of a biro as she did when working out some legal strategy. Finally, she snapped forward on her chair and stood up. “I have it! I’ll ask Nigel if you can use his weekender. He’s not going up there this weekend, because he’s off to the opening of some play tomorrow night, starring his latest love. Wait here.”

  Fran was gone before Zoe could say yeah or nay.

  Nigel was Nigel Cox, the third partner in the firm. Fortyish and openly gay, he represented several highly paid clients in the entertainment and sporting world. Zoe didn’t really have much to do with him. He had his own assistant, as did Angus. She’d heard of the weekender, though. From June, who called it Nigel’s little love nest.

  Apparently, it overlooked a small beach up near Port Stephens, just far enough off the main tourist route for privacy, but close enough to civilization for essential supplies and services, which meant a good selection of five-star restaurants. Nigel’s second favorite hobby in life—according to the ever-knowledgeable June—was gourmet food.