Menanichoch, Maryland
December 18th
Sixteen years ago
Alexandra woke up to find herself alone in the suite and asked herself if she was disappointed. If he were here, would she relent and tell him her name? Give him her phone number?
She honestly didn’t know.
She’d meant it when she said she didn’t have time to date. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t interested in a man who would turn down a no strings screw because he didn’t want to make it impossible to be with her later.
Should she make an effort to learn his name?
No. If he was smart, he wouldn’t be interested in the light of day. After all, she’d been all over the map last night, demanding sex from a stranger. Mad when he wouldn’t give it to her.
She’d fallen apart and pummeled his chest, all because he reminded her she’d been through an ordeal she needed to process.
Was it trauma?
Maybe. It was nothing like what her friends who’d been raped had gone through, but she didn’t need to put it on a scale and measure it to know last night had affected her.
She would never leave a drink unguarded again—even on a date that absolutely should have been safe. That, of course, brought to mind Kendall and Brent.
She never, ever wanted to see Brent again. Even if he really hadn’t known, the association would always be there. Brent Forbes was best buds with a predator.
He’d set her up on a date with that predator.
What would that do to her relationship with Kendall? Her best friend. Her roommate. Friends since freshman year of college, when they’d been randomly assigned to share a dorm room.
Kendall was in love with Brent. This could destroy their friendship.
The hotel room phone rang. Alexandra jolted at the sharp sound.
Who knew she was here besides Pumpkin?
She snickered. She’d really called the hottest man she’d ever kissed, the man who saved her from being raped, Pumpkin.
But damn, it had been fun messing with him.
The phone rang again. She hoped it wasn’t her date calling. Could he be out already? Was it possible charges weren’t going to be filed?
A shiver ran through her, and she wished Pumpkin were here.
She picked up the handset, squeezing it tight as she pressed it to her ear. “Hello?”
“Oh, thank god,” Kendall said. “We need to get you a cell phone.”
“You know I can’t afford one. Besides, you found me. I don’t need one.”
“Are you ready for me to come get you?”
“Sure. I’ll meet you out front.”
“I’ll be there in forty-five.”
Alexandra slipped off the robe she’d slept in and put her bra and party dress back on while the in-room coffeemaker brewed. She then sat at the small dining table and ate the apple cinnamon muffin while she drank coffee. Given her lack of change of clothes, this would look like a walk of shame, but all she’d gotten was a hot kiss and a little grinding.
She was disappointed. But also, she wasn’t.
The kiss had been everything she wanted. But the man, he was so much more. Gentle with her feelings even as he turned her down. Understanding why she needed to feel empowered.
She checked the clock and tried to remember what time Kendall had called. Was it time to head down? She would love to have one of those BlackBerry thingies so she could set reminders. Plus, it would solve her cell phone problem.
But if she couldn’t afford a cell phone, she definitely couldn’t afford a five-hundred-dollar next-level pager.
Someday. When she had her PhD and was teaching or got a research fellowship at CERN, she’d get a phone. And a better computer. As it was, she had to rely on the computers in the department, which meant a lot of long hours at school.
She really didn’t have time to date. Not when she had to spend nearly every waking hour at the university.
She grabbed the mostly full bottle of champagne. It was warm and probably flat, but it would be a shame to waste it. She’d mix it with orange juice. She also grabbed the remaining muffins, noting the half-eaten pumpkin chocolate chip one was gone.
She slipped on her coat before leaving the hotel room and paused when she felt the weight of something in the right pocket. She reached inside and pulled out not just the BlackBerry device, but also a charging cord and headset, along with a handwritten note.
Muffin,
You’ll find the user’s manual online. You’re stuck with my phone number, but I’ll contact everyone and give them my new number asap.
Yours truly,
Pumpkin
She let out a bark of laughter.
She didn’t think she ever wanted to learn his name. He would forever be Pumpkin. Only for her.
The BlackBerry buzzed with a message late that evening while Alexandra was reading a thriller she’d gotten from the library. She set aside the hardcover book and picked up the device from the nightstand.
She’d spent an hour playing with it after finding the user’s manual online earlier in the day. It had been a good distraction as she avoided discussing with Kendall what had happened last night.
Now she read her first message.
Received: Finally got my new BlackBerry set up. New model is a phone no headset needed, so thank you for the excuse to upgrade. How was your day, Muffin?
She smiled, feeling strangely warm. He really had given her his smartphone and now she had no reason to return it. Well, except she couldn’t afford the monthly usage fees.
Sent: Thank you for the phone, but whenever your current contract for it expires, you’ll have to take it back. I don’t have the budget for it.
Received: It will stay on my business account. Talon & Drake can pay your bill.
Sent: No! That’s theft. I don’t want to get you in trouble!
Received: It’s fine. Cleared it with my boss. Least T&D can do.
She frowned. That was a little too glib. But she supposed he’d had to explain to someone why he needed a replacement phone, and as far as she knew, BlackBerrys weren’t widely available to consumers—just professionals.
Sent: I don’t feel right about this, Pumpkin.
Received: I promise. It’s not an issue. You can ask my boss.
Sent: To ask your boss, I’d need to know your name.
Received: That’s your call, Muffin. I’ll tell you. Even give you my boss’s number. Or better yet, his work email, so you’ll know it’s legit.
Sent: I’ll think about it.
Received: In the meantime, use it. It’s paid for through the end of the year.
She had ten days to decide if her conscience could handle it. She wouldn’t set up email on it or do anything that would make it hard to give up.
Received: I want to see you. Can I buy you dinner tomorrow?
Sent: Depends. Are you going to put out?
Received: If I do, are you going to bolt right after?
Sent: That’s really a performance question.
Received: That won’t be a problem.
She smiled, remembering the feel of him against her last night. She suspected he was right.
Received: Dinner at seven, then?
She stared at the device and the little cursor that flashed, waiting for her to reply. She’d thought about him all day.
Sent: You had your chance with me last night.
Received: I didn’t want to become something you regret.
It had been twenty-four hours since the assault that didn’t happen, and she’d spent most of her waking ones today wondering if she’d have regrets if she’d had sex with her rescuer last night.
She didn’t think so, but she also knew she definitely wouldn’t want to see him again, regrets or not. He would be so entwined with the bad part of the night that thoughts of him would be tainted.
But now, she remembered the way he’d kissed her and then held her as she fell asleep. He’d cared for her mental state more than she had.
Because he didn’t want to be something—someone—she put behind her.
Plus, he was incredibly hot. His mouth had set her on fire. And she’d spent far too much time today itching to open Yahoo! and see if she could figure out who he was.
But that would violate her own rules. Not that he’d care. But she would.
Sent: Do you like to dance?
Received: Depends on what kind. My ballroom is rusty.
Sent: Maybe I should change your name to Rusty Ballroom. Sounds dirty.
Received: But not in a good way. I promise you my balls are fine. How is your ballroom?
Sent: Nonexistent.
Received: I meant dancing.
Sent: So did I.
Received: You like dancing?
Sent: I don’t know. It’s been so long since I’ve gone out and just had fun. I was looking forward to dancing last night.
Received: We’ll go dancing on our second date, then.
Sent: You’re so certain you’re getting a second date? I haven’t even agreed to the first.
Received: Muffin, I’m already planning date number 6.
Sent: Yeah? Where are you taking me?
Received: I don’t want to spoil the surprise. You might want to skip dates 2-5.
Sent: But not date 1?
Received: No, sweetheart, you definitely don’t want to miss that. Tomorrow. 7 p.m.
Sent: Where are we meeting?
Received: Are you in DC?
She didn’t live in the city, but close enough.
Sent: Yes.
Received: I’ll leave a note for Muffin at the Mayflower concierge desk.
She scrolled back up, rereading the full conversation. So many emotions swirled through her, but they all held a buzz of excitement. Joy.
Sent: What should I wear?
Received: Whatever makes you happy. But I wouldn’t object to the killer heels.
Sent: See you tomorrow, Pumpkin.