AS SOON AS Louise Jensen opened her trench coat she knew sheâd made a mistake. A huge one, because Jaiven Rodriguez looked appalled.
Damn, damn, damn. What the hell had she been thinking, cabbing it to the Bronx in nothing but a coat and six-inch heels? Was she really that stupid?
Apparently, yes. Because Jaivenâs comment about sexual fantasies had lit a spark inside of her, and four days of celibacyâhardly unusual, yet now seemingly unendurableâhad fanned it into raging flame.
Sheâd told herself she could use a little fantasy sex, the no-strings fling Jaiven had promised. Sheâd made a compelling argument inside her head that it would actually be good for her, that it would help her move on to a real relationship. This was the bridge between loneliness and hope, between marriage to Jack and a relationship with some stable, safe, boring man she might meet one day.
And sheâd realized sheâd always had a secret fantasy about showing up to a manâs place in nothing but a coat and heels. Being that sassy and confident and bold.
What an idiotic fantasy that was.
âSo maybe not,â she said, choking on the words as she hastened to close her coat. Her hands were shaking and she couldnât get the buttons and buckles fastened. Stupid coat. Stupid buckles. Stupid her.
âI love it,â Jaiven told her quickly, his voice low, âbut my mother is here.â He sounded caught between amusement and alarm, and Louise let out a horrified laugh.
âYour mother? You have got to be kidding me.â
âI wish I was.â
He sounded so regretful that Louise laughed again, albeit shakily.
âWho is that, Jaiven?â
Louiseâs mouth dropped open and she took a stumbling step away from the door. âOh noââ
âOh, yes.â Jaiven rolled his eyes heavenward as his mother, a small, round woman in a cherry-red dress and matching heels came bustling toward them.
Louise smiled, or tried to, but she seemed to have lost control of her facial muscles. And her coat still wasnât buttoned up properly.
Sheâd thought sheâd been embarrassed before, but sheâd had no idea what that even felt like. If embarrassment were a video game, she was the world champion, her initials on every glowing screen. Beat this score. Not.
âWho are you?â his mother asked, not precisely rudely, but close. She eyed Louiseâs coat with suspicion, and who could blame her? The important bits were thankfully covered, but she was showing a lot of leg.
Louise tightened her belt, tried to close her coat a little more. It gaped at the throat and with her other hand she snatched at the lapels. His mother probably thought she was a streaker. Or maybe a prostitute.
âUmmâ¦â
âLouise is a friend, Mama,â Jaiven said calmly. He looked weary and weirdly resigned, yet when he caught her eye he gave her a tiny quirk of a smile. âShe just stopped by for a drink.â
âA drink?â His mother looked even more suspicious. Maybe in her world respectable women did not stop by menâs apartments for drinks. They certainly didnât turn up nearly naked.
âThatâs right,â she managed, still clutching at her coat. âBut I didnât realize he was with you. So Iâll justâ¦â
âStay,â Jaiven interjected. He tugged at her hand, which had her coat gaping open again. Now she was showing leg and cleavage. Perfect.
She tried to give him a covert glare. âNo, reallyââ
âIâd like you to stay. We were just sitting down to dinner. You can eat with us.â He turned to his mother with an appealing smile, his hand still clasped around Louiseâs like a vise. âCanât she, Mama?â