Unfair!
Jenna wanted to cry, “Stop!” But the word simply wouldn’t come.
Mark gave her a long, speculative appraisal from beneath his lashes. His tender smile had melted her insides. “You realize, of course, if you go now, you’ll never find out.”
“Find out what?” Her voice sounded detached and foreign.
His mouth widened into a grin. “Whether it’s boxers or briefs.”
She stared at him in mute misery. The dark, heavy truth descended on her in full force. She might as well acknowledge the terrible inevitability of this moment, that something was breaking like a cord in her mind.
Jenna nodded slowly. “You’re right, damn you. I have to know.”
She tossed her remaining shoe over one shoulder. By the time it hit the floor she had lifted her arms around Mark’s neck and pulled him to her. She kissed him, thoroughly. And he responded.
If this was a mistake, she’d find a way to make it right somehow. And if there were regrets, she’d never lay claim to them. A premonition of danger flared at the edges of her mind, but her body was already on a wild journey, and the feeling didn’t last long enough to become a nuisance.
Dear Reader,
It’s wonderful to feel safe in the life you’ve built for yourself. We should all be so lucky as to have stress-free, secure, peaceful lives that never cause us a moment of concern.
But sometimes that kind of complacent existence can get…well, boring. You get stuck in a rut. You never feel challenged. You stop taking chances. And the people you love? They think they know you inside and out.
Which is why sometimes your life needs a swift kick in the pants. Or, as in the case of my heroine, you need to shake things up a bit. That’s what Jenna Rawlins decides to do one night when she meets Mark Bishop. Something new. Something unexpected and out of character. And that adventurous decision results in big changes in both their lives.
Resolving their problems was a great way for me to shake up my own little world, too. I’ve never written a story about two people who are drawn to one another so quickly, with such life-altering consequences. I hope I’ve met the challenge, and that you’ll find Jenna and Mark’s story interesting and fun.
May all your challenges in life be exciting, rewarding and, as always, may they make for wonderful stories!
Sincerely,
Ann Evans
After That Night
Ann Evans
For my good friends Lanny Reddick and Sherri Angell,
who never say “No” when I want to play “What if…?”
I couldn’t do it without you.
Well…I could, but it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
JENNA RAWLINS really disliked Atlanta’s Regent Street Grill. The restaurant, situated in the upscale suburb of Buckhead, was too sleek, too cold and too uncomfortable. The waiters thought they were doing you a favor by taking your order. And the prices!
Jenna swallowed as her eyes drifted down a dessert menu as thick as a Russian novel. Where did they get the nerve to charge so much?
Of course, she had to admit that Vic was right about one thing. This place was the latest trendy eatery in the city for that important business lunch. Already two of the magazine’s advertising clients had stopped by their table to say hello and buss everyone on the cheek. But honestly, with the small portions they served, what good did it do you to make contacts in the restaurant if you were too weak from hunger to remember their names?
She must have been scowling, because Victoria Estabrook, seated beside her, snatched the menu out of her hand and closed it with a snap.
“Stop that!” Vic commanded. “I don’t want to hear about how the company can’t afford this right now. This is a celebration, and we’re all having dessert.”
They were celebrating the anniversary of Fairy Tale Weddings, the specialty magazine she, Victoria and their friend Lauren Hoffman had founded three years ago. As a CPA and the person who kept the books for the magazine, Jenna knew perfectly well whether the company budget could stand the cost of an expensive lunch for its three partners. It could. Just not too many of them. Vic, however, had been in a contrary mood all through lunch, so it was probably pointless to argue.
“I didn’t say a word,” Jenna said.
“You didn’t have to. We can see it on your face. It’s always given you away.” Victoria looked at Lauren, seated across the table. “Am I right?”
Lauren offered an agreeable shrug and sent Jenna an apologetic glance. “She’s got you there, kiddo. How do you think we could always tell when things weren’t going well with Jack?”
Jenna didn’t want to talk about her ex-husband. More than five minutes, and she’d have a headache for certain. “Be nice, you two,” she warned. “I’m still trying to get over last night’s argument with Dad.”
Victoria tossed down her soiled napkin. “I’ll tell you how to get over it. Tell him that if he wants to continue to have you and his grandsons in his life, there are some opinions he needs to keep to himself. And anything involving Jack-ass Rawlins, no matter how true, is one of them.”
Lauren and Jenna exchanged knowing smiles. This was the kind of advice they could expect from Vic, who’d been born assertive and who resented anyone trying to tell her how to live. But Jenna wasn’t like that. She might be a fully grown woman of twenty-eight, but she couldn’t imagine talking to her father that way in a million years. He’d probably have a coronary right on the spot.
Still, it would have been nice to find a better way to handle the “men” in her life. Taking care of two rambunctious young sons, living back home with Dad since her divorce, having two protective older brothers offering more advice than Dear Abby…
The truth was, it could make you nuts. She knew they only wanted the best for her. She knew they all loved her. But… Was she the world’s worse mother/sister/daughter to sometimes wish she could just pack her bags, hop in the car and never look back? Probably.
Instead of commenting, she watched as Victoria motioned for their waiter, Dexter, who’d taken their lunch orders once a week for the past six months. He waltzed around several tables to get back to them.
“Tell us what’s good today, Dexter,” Victoria demanded.
“The mousse is very refreshing,” he suggested brightly.