About That Night by Beth Andrews Page A

on one leg, she put on her shoe, then switched sides to put on the other one. “I said I don’t think so. You’ve got the look of a man ready for another tumble.” She flipped her hair off her shoulder. “Afraid you’re out of luck in that regard.”
    “I want you. I want to touch you again. Taste you. I want to feel your body tighten around me. I want to watch your face while I make you come.”
    “Your wants have been noted. They’re also going to be denied.”
    His eyes narrowed. What kind of game was this? “We were good together.”
    “That we were, but it was a one-time thing. You see, I decide who touches me and when. And right now, you’re not on that list.”
    He swung his legs off the side of the bed and stood, his movements carefully controlled. “You wanted me to touch you last night.”
    “Right again, but now I don’t.” She slid her gaze over his naked body, his erection. Then she smiled at him. “Nice meeting you, cowboy.”
    And she turned and sashayed out of the room.
    C.J. couldn’t believe it. Who the hell did she think she was? No one walked away from him.
    They weren’t done. Not by a long shot.
    He strode into the living room as the suite door shut behind her. Fully intending to chase her out into the street if necessary, he made it halfway across the room before remembering he didn’t have any clothes on.
    Son of a bitch.
    He rushed back to the room and grabbed his pants, was yanking them on when he went into the hall, his long, angry strides eating up the distance. But not fast enough.
    She was already gone.
    He jogged down to the elevator, jabbed the button repeatedly. “Come on, come on,” he muttered like a curse, like a prayer. He considered taking the stairs, but that would take too much time.
    Finally, the elevator pinged and the doors opened. He leaped inside, pressed the button for the lobby...and caught sight of his reflection in the mirrors.
    Aw, hell.
    His hair was standing on end, his chest and feet bare, his pants not even zipped, his eyes wild.
    He’d lost his ever-loving mind.
    The doors started to close, and he stuck his arm out, stalked back to his room only to find the door had shut behind him, locking him out.
    He glared at it. Considered giving it a good kick but he’d probably just break his toes. Now he’d have to go down the hall, knock on his mother’s or Oakes’s door, come up with some lie about how he’d locked himself out of his room at this hour, half-dressed.
    Served him right for acting like an idiot. He didn’t even know Ivy’s last name, and yet he’d been chasing after her, ready to beg her to stay with him, just for another hour or so.
    She was right. What had happened between them was a one-time deal. Just as they both wanted.
    The sooner he forgot about her, the better.

CHAPTER FIVE
    Four months later
    “ G RACIE, WAIT UP!”
    Gracie stopped and turned, held her hand up to shade her eyes from the bright, midday sun. Only to slowly lower it when she saw Luke Sapko jogging toward her. She blinked, frowning. Held her eyes shut for a moment, but when she opened them again, he was still there, except closer, thanks to the jogging and all.
    She glanced behind her and then rolled her eyes when she realized she was looking around to see who he was talking to.
    He was talking to her, of course. Although, it actually would be more likely that there just happened to be another Gracie—one he’d said more than two words to over the past five years—walking down Blaisdell Avenue right now.
    Biting her lower lip, she considered—briefly but with much relish—turning around and just...walking away. Pretending she hadn’t heard him, that she hadn’t seen him trying to catch up to her. But that would be rude. And she wasn’t rude.
    Too bad. It would probably come in handy at times.
    Such as when a girl stood in the middle of the sidewalk, the sun burning her bare shoulders, sweat running down her back while she waited to see what the heck the