Chapter One
Suzanne Weston reread the letter as she pondered how to
respond.
Dear Annie,
My boyfriend and I have been considering asking his
friend to join us for a threesome. I’ve always been attracted to the friend and
I’m afraid that having sex with him will awaken a dangerous passion inside me
that’s been brewing for a while. But I can hardly say that to my boyfriend.
Should I tell my boyfriend to find someone else for the ménage à trois or
should I take my chances?
Sincerely,
Confused in Connecticut
Suzanne stretched her back against the padded coffee shop
booth seat then placed her hands on the keyboard.
Dear Confused,
Sounds to me like what you’re afraid of is discovering that someone might turn you on more than your boyfriend. If
that’s the case, shouldn’t you explore that possibility? If you don’t, you
might always wonder what could have been. Don’t do anything that makes you
uncomfortable, but you know Dear Annie’s credo—if it feels good, go for it,
baby.
She sipped her iced latte then set the plastic cup on the
table. Glancing up, she noticed a tall, dark-haired guy making his way down the
aisle.
His aquamarine eyes were fixed on her as he walked right
into an elderly woman with a walker. “Oh God, I’m so sorry,” he told the lady.
His voice was deep as a trombone.
The woman shook off his apology. “I’m fine. I think you were
a little distracted.” She tipped her chin toward Suzanne. “She’s awfully
pretty.”
The man threw Suzanne a crooked smile that made her feel as
if she’d just downed a glass or two of champagne. After the older lady passed,
the man offered Suzanne his hand but knocked her coffee over in the process.
The flimsy plastic lid popped off and the thick, caramel-colored liquid spilled
over her laptop.
Suzanne’s heart seemed to stop. The screen went dead and she
let out a gasp. “No! Oh please, no.”
The man plucked a stack of napkins from the next table and
started mopping up the sticky mess. “I don’t know what to say. Sorry doesn’t
seem to cut it.”
That was an understatement. She poked the power button but
the machine refused to come back to life. “It was an accident.” An accident
that cost her hours of work on her upcoming Dear Annie columns, not to mention
the cost of a new computer. That was all she needed.
Just when she thought she was going to get her head above
water after paying her sister Laura’s college tuition payment and helping her
mother with her mortgage payment. She shook her head. Going even a few days
without a computer was out of the question.
“Look, there’s an office supply superstore a few blocks from
here. Let me buy you a new laptop.” He sat down beside her. The empathy in his
expression made her chest squeeze.
She set her hand on top of his and a zing of attraction rang
through her. “You don’t need to do that. It’s not like you purposely broke it.”
He shook his head. “I won’t take no for an answer. Plus I
have a friend who might be able to retrieve whatever’s on your hard drive. It’s
the least I can do.”
A glimmer of hope lightened her gloom. “I’ll tell you what.
If your friend can get my work off the hard drive, great. But I insist we go
halvsies on the new computer.”
Without a word, he stood then offered her a hand up. Again,
his touch started a riot of arousal inside her that spread to every nerve
ending. How could she say no when they had such obvious chemistry.
“I’m Alan,” he said as he gathered the soaked napkins and
the sticky cup.
“Suzanne.” She picked up her dead computer and wiped the
bottom. They left the coffee shop and Alan led her to a late-model pickup
truck.
He opened the passenger door and she brushed past him to
climb inside, breathing in his evergreen scent. Maybe she wasn’t meant to
finish writing her column today. Suddenly there was something—or someone—she’d
much rather spend the day doing.
* * * * *
Alan
Suzanne Weston reread the letter as she pondered how to
respond.
Dear Annie,
My boyfriend and I have been considering asking his
friend to join us for a threesome. I’ve always been attracted to the friend and
I’m afraid that having sex with him will awaken a dangerous passion inside me
that’s been brewing for a while. But I can hardly say that to my boyfriend.
Should I tell my boyfriend to find someone else for the ménage à trois or
should I take my chances?
Sincerely,
Confused in Connecticut
Suzanne stretched her back against the padded coffee shop
booth seat then placed her hands on the keyboard.
Dear Confused,
Sounds to me like what you’re afraid of is discovering that someone might turn you on more than your boyfriend. If
that’s the case, shouldn’t you explore that possibility? If you don’t, you
might always wonder what could have been. Don’t do anything that makes you
uncomfortable, but you know Dear Annie’s credo—if it feels good, go for it,
baby.
She sipped her iced latte then set the plastic cup on the
table. Glancing up, she noticed a tall, dark-haired guy making his way down the
aisle.
His aquamarine eyes were fixed on her as he walked right
into an elderly woman with a walker. “Oh God, I’m so sorry,” he told the lady.
His voice was deep as a trombone.
The woman shook off his apology. “I’m fine. I think you were
a little distracted.” She tipped her chin toward Suzanne. “She’s awfully
pretty.”
The man threw Suzanne a crooked smile that made her feel as
if she’d just downed a glass or two of champagne. After the older lady passed,
the man offered Suzanne his hand but knocked her coffee over in the process.
The flimsy plastic lid popped off and the thick, caramel-colored liquid spilled
over her laptop.
Suzanne’s heart seemed to stop. The screen went dead and she
let out a gasp. “No! Oh please, no.”
The man plucked a stack of napkins from the next table and
started mopping up the sticky mess. “I don’t know what to say. Sorry doesn’t
seem to cut it.”
That was an understatement. She poked the power button but
the machine refused to come back to life. “It was an accident.” An accident
that cost her hours of work on her upcoming Dear Annie columns, not to mention
the cost of a new computer. That was all she needed.
Just when she thought she was going to get her head above
water after paying her sister Laura’s college tuition payment and helping her
mother with her mortgage payment. She shook her head. Going even a few days
without a computer was out of the question.
“Look, there’s an office supply superstore a few blocks from
here. Let me buy you a new laptop.” He sat down beside her. The empathy in his
expression made her chest squeeze.
She set her hand on top of his and a zing of attraction rang
through her. “You don’t need to do that. It’s not like you purposely broke it.”
He shook his head. “I won’t take no for an answer. Plus I
have a friend who might be able to retrieve whatever’s on your hard drive. It’s
the least I can do.”
A glimmer of hope lightened her gloom. “I’ll tell you what.
If your friend can get my work off the hard drive, great. But I insist we go
halvsies on the new computer.”
Without a word, he stood then offered her a hand up. Again,
his touch started a riot of arousal inside her that spread to every nerve
ending. How could she say no when they had such obvious chemistry.
“I’m Alan,” he said as he gathered the soaked napkins and
the sticky cup.
“Suzanne.” She picked up her dead computer and wiped the
bottom. They left the coffee shop and Alan led her to a late-model pickup
truck.
He opened the passenger door and she brushed past him to
climb inside, breathing in his evergreen scent. Maybe she wasn’t meant to
finish writing her column today. Suddenly there was something—or someone—she’d
much rather spend the day doing.
* * * * *
Alan
Similar Books
