Taste of Temptation by Moira McTark

the lobby."
    Turning to Pammy, he said the only lame thing that came to mind. “It's not you. It's me."
    * * * *
    Behind the wheel of the Henley limo, Dil wore a look of utter disappointment. “You used to be my idol, man. Now, I don't even know what to say. Pammy was a sure thing. What a waste, makes me sick to think about it."
    Jason, slumped in the front passenger seat, nodded, then shook his head and finally just shrugged. The vodka was catching up with him. “I'll send ‘er a dozen roses tomorrow. Enough. Let's focus. It's go time."
    Dil turned a slow skeptical eye toward him and then through the passenger window to the apartment building beyond them. “You sure you don't want to call her instead? I've got the phone right here. Or better, wait until tomorrow."
    "No, I screwed up. A romantic gesture is in order. I'm going to do it.” He grabbed the coins off the dash and shouldered into the limo door. On the second try he made it out and started toward the darkened side of the brick building. Most of the lights were out.
    Dil came up beside him, hands stuffed in his pockets, shoulders shrugged forward. “Tell me again why we can't use dimes or pennies?"
    Jason let out a snort. “She's special.” Then, after testing the loft, he threw the first silver dollar at the window.
    Obscenities ran out of Dil in a steady stream as the first coin rustled through the leafy branches behind them and finally dropped onto the ground. “That wasn't even toward the building, man."
    "Don't start with me. Practice throw."
    "Don't lie to yourself. It was a pussy throw."
    "Fuck, Dil. Language. People live here. This is a romantic gesture."
    "Yeah, yeah, boss. Sorry."
    "And now with the boss business.” Emotion clogged Jason's throat as he turned to Dil. “I thought we were friends."
    "Throw."
    Jason tottered, picked up the coin and then focused on the building.
    "Which window are you aiming at?"
    Jason ignored him. Dil wasn't a romantic; he didn't understand about fate.
    "Which window?"
    "The one this hits.” Using all the strength and coordination he could muster, Jason launched the coin.
    "You don't even know? Is this even her building?"
    Jason stared up at the night sky.
    Laine was going to love this. She'd come to the window, her hair all falling down around her shoulders, maybe a tissue in her hand. She'd see him and wipe away her last tear.
    "Watch it!"
    Jerked back into the now, Jason blinked, his face still tilted skyward, there was no one at the window. But what the hell was that coming straight—"Fuck!"
    Jason was on the ground, blinking at the warm goo oozing into his eye where the heavy coin had hit him.
    Dil's face popped into this line of vision. “For crissakes, you're a bleeder too? That's it. Night over. We're going back to the hotel."
    Wiping at his eye, the back of his hand came away wet and sticky. He was an ass. “Is she going to take me back?"
    "I don't know, man.” Dil's voice softened as he hefted Jason off the ground. “But definitely not tonight."
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Chapter Four
    Saturday, the twenty-sixth of June
    The week since Laine slipped out of his life had been torture. Jason had felt like an ass after Saturday night and tried to convince himself that maybe he was better off, that he'd somehow dodged a bullet, but every minute that passed without her increased his sense of dread. By Sunday night he knew without a doubt he'd been terribly wrong.
    Damn it, it was her job, and he trusted her. No matter what she chose to do with the information, she must have believed it was the right thing.
    He phoned her, but his calls went straight to voicemail, and he hung up without leaving a message. He'd thought he would see her around the hotel. Only she'd missed her appointments, and, suspecting she was avoiding him, he decided to wait until Saturday. She'd never miss a job.
    There was a wedding booked for the rooftop rose garden at ten that morning, reception following in the ballroom at