Shades of Sexy by Wynter Daniels

some male code of honor or some bullshit like that.”
    “So he cared more about not hurting faceless husbands everywhere than his own wife.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Unbelievable.”
    He slipped his arm around her and pulled her against him. “I’m sorry if that hurt. Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut.”
    Her sigh held regret. “I don’t know how I could have been so stupid. To not see the true Warren for so long.”
    Grasping her shoulders, he pulled her closer. “Don’t blame yourself. He was quite an actor. I think he snowed a lot of women over the years. He had that charming side everyone loved. He usually kept the asshole side well hidden.” But not from Alex. Warren hadn’t seemed to care what Alex thought of him.
    Because he never loved me, never found me worthy of his affection.
    She moved out of his grasp. “I’m parched. Can I fix you a drink?” She stood and slipped on her blouse. It fell to the top of her thighs and looked incredibly sexy.
    Staring at her, he knew he didn’t want to leave yet. He enjoyed her company. And the sex was too good for just once. “I’d love one.”
    He followed her into the kitchen and waited while she poured them each some chardonnay.
    She handed him a glass and tapped hers against it. “To Warren.”
    “No. I won’t drink to him and neither should you.” He set his glass on the counter. “I asked myself on the plane why I’d decided to come to his funeral. Not like I had some great warmth for the guy. He refused to pay my mother any child support. Told her to take him to court, but for some reason, she didn’t. He only paid any attention to me when he found it convenient to do so.”
    “Then why did you come?”
    “Something kept niggling at me, telling me I’d regret it if I didn’t.” Maybe that nagging guilt that he hadn’t tried harder to see the jerk last time he’d come to Florida. It was possible his email had gotten lost in cyberspace. It happened occasionally. Why hadn’t he just picked up the phone and called? Then maybe he’d feel like he’d given it his all.
    He pushed the notion from his mind. What purpose did it serve to beat himself up over it? Warren was an insensitive asshole to him his whole life. No reason to think he’d changed in the last few years. He took Macy’s glass and set it next to his. Stepping closer, he breathed in her sweet scent—orange blossoms and pure sex. “Maybe you’re the reason.”
    She crinkled her brow. “Huh?”
    He wrapped his arms around her waist, drew her to him. “Maybe fate meant for us to meet. And in some weird cosmic way, I knew that.” He no longer cared that Macy was his father’s wife, that she was some sort of prize he’d taken to get even with the man. He found her an exciting, sexy woman and he wanted to know her better.
    He laughed. “Sounds crazy, I know.”
    “A little.” She stood on her toes and kissed him. “Excuse me while I change.” She disappeared into the bedroom.
    He put on his shirt, then paced the floor. After a few minutes he sat on the couch and checked out the pictures on the wall. The décor was modern and simple. Unpretentious, like the lady who lived here. He wondered if he ought to leave and check in to his hotel room, although he’d rather stay here, with Macy. She hadn’t offered. Maybe she wasn’t comfortable spending any more time with him, given the familial ties. Or perhaps something else bothered her, the race issue. She’d implied she’d never been with a black man before. She might be the type who concerned herself with what other people said, but for some reason, he didn’t think so.
    She returned to the living room wearing a short denim skirt and a tight-fitting top cut low enough to reveal a little cleavage. The starch in her shoulders was evident as she walked to a chair near the couch and sat on the edge. She folded her arms over her chest and let out a heavy sigh. “So…”
    Maybe she did regret inviting him home