And if I want to keep one last shred of dignity, I can’t stay here any longer—so I get ready to tackle my list. After all, looking the part is my first step on the journey back to sexy.

  I take flat iron to smooth my shoulder length bob into a style, paint my lips with the reddest tube I can find, and slide into my itchiest most uncomfortable underwear—the pair way back in my drawer that I always promised to wear for Max, but never got around to. I wonder if we’ll have another chance. Or if that’s even what I want.

  I pack up all my belongings and load up my SUV. That’s one good thing about moving every year. It’s taught me to live light. I feed Free and stroke his soft feathers, whispering parting endearments to the only pet I’ve ever had. Then I leave Max a note telling him I’ll let him know where I land. One final dose of guilt.

  But if all goes according to plan, he’s going to be the one looking for me when he returns. And then I’ll get to decide we do next.

  I take one last look around the apartment and say a silent goodbye. But when my eyes meet Free again, I can’t do it.

  Fuck it. He’s mine, and he comes with me.

  ***

  Despite Tia’s protests, I decide to stay in the Loop for a few days. My sister’s away on business so I can’t crash there, and there’s no way in hell am I going to my parents’ house in the suburbs. Plus, there’s a nice Marriott in the neighborhood, and I have enough points to stay until the end of the week without having to dip into my measly bank account. Like my list says, get away from normal surroundings.

  I check in and bring up my first round of luggage before sneaking Free to my room.

  After I settle into my new home, I finish getting ready for the evening. I complement my polished look with an LBD and my highest black shoes with a million straps. And with a quick but appeasing look in the full-length mirror, I head out and make my way to the lobby bar. If I’m going to change my life in one week, I need a little liquid courage to begin.

  The cocktail waitress comes over to me. “Hi there, what can I get for you, hon?”

  My first test. I will not hem and haw. I will not ask what she recommends. I will not change my mind five times. I will be clear. Assertive. In charge.

  “A martini would be great,” I say. “Ketel One, up, dirty, extra olives.”

  Nicely done, Stevie.

  “Sure thing. Coming right up. Great shoes, by the way.”

  “Oh, thanks. They’re old. On sale at—” I stop myself before I can get both shoes in my mouth.

  First test? I fail with flying colors.

  I shake my head. “Never mind,” I say. “Thanks though.”

  My bouncy server smiles and goes to the bar to retrieve my drink, and I pull out my notebook to get to work. But before my eyes can move to the table, they get snagged on something, or rather, someone. Yes, sitting at the table to my left is the epitome of bringing sexy back. Look out J.T., this man has brought it to the nth degree. Massive locks of dark hair frame icy blue eyes—bedroom eyes, as Mom would say. Fuck me eyes, Tia would call them. His olive skin is covered in the perfect amount of stubble, contrasting with his impeccably-pressed suit. My breath actually hitches at the sight of him.

  He smiles and then tips his head to look under my table. It takes me a minute, until he sits back up and nods, mouthing the word, nice. He heard my conversation with the server. And, if I’m not mistaken, he likes my shoes, too.

  Hmmm. Let’s see if I can cross off something else on my list: flirt with a stranger.

  I smile with a contrived come-hither glance that I’m sure looks more like I have a weird facial tick. I’m so not the flirting type. Crazily enough, that’s how I landed Max. He liked the chase. Little did he know, I wanted him. I just didn’t know the way to show him how much. Deep down, I think I’m really hoping that’s what this little experiment will help me do—start over with Max.

  No, I’m not ready to go there. This week is about me, not him.

  Come on, Stevie. Time to get your head in the game.

  I rest my chin in my palm, looking over to the server, pretending to be interested in the bartender shaking my drink. An easy smile rests on my lips. I stretch my leg out, offering my shoe aficionado a better look. But when I steal a glance, I see he’s moved on. He’s deep in conversation on his cell.

  I laugh at my ridiculous attempts at flirting. And when the waitress comes over with my martini, I chug down half of it and order another.

  “I gotcha, doll.” She winks. “This time I’ll bring the shaker, too.”

  I continue to sip the ice-cold drink, letting it warm my insides while I stare at the magazine article and make notes about my new transformation. This may take a while.

  A silver shaker covered in condensation enters my line of vision. Perfect timing, I just finished the last of my drink. But, when I look up to say thanks, it’s not my server standing in front of me.

  It’s my footwear fan.

  “Care for some company?” he asks, pouring the drink from the shaker into a fresh, frosty glass.

  I clear my throat. He is even more spectacular up close. Thinner than Max, but I don’t know, somehow he seems even more masculine in this tight package. Tailored pants that hug him in all the right places, paired with a crisp white shirt rolled at the sleeves. How the hell did he lose the jacket and tie in all of the ten seconds I was looking away?

  “Sure,” I tell him, gesturing to the open chair.

  He takes a seat and extends his hand. “I’m Gabe.”

  So this is what goes on outside my door on a Tuesday night? Who knew?

  “Stevie,” I reply, offering him my hand.

  He takes it in both of his and shivers tingle up my arm to the top of my scalp.

  “So what brings you to town?” he asks, sliding his chair dangerously close.

  “A little stay-cation, I guess you could say. I don’t live far from here.”

  Or I didn’t. But I’m not going to tell him I’m currently homeless.

  “What about you?” I say quickly so he doesn’t get a chance to ask a follow-up question.

  “Same,” he says. “Well, I’m not staying here. I was supposed to have a business meeting, but my client canceled at the last minute.”

  The server comes springing back to check in. She takes my empty glass. “Doing good, hon?”

  I nod.

  “What about you, Gabe?”

  “I’m good, thanks,” he says before swiping the spear of olives from the glass she’s holding.

  Once she leaves, he turns to me and says, “Open up.”

  Without thinking, I do as he asks and he slides the vodka-soaked olives into my mouth.

  Hey, I’m doing it. I’m flirting with a stranger.

  He smiles. “Don’t want to waste your dinner. I’m getting the impression that’s all you’re eating tonight.”

  “There’s a meal in every glass,” I tell him.

  “Well, be careful. Johnny’s martinis have made men three times your size turn into a drunken puddle.”

  “Come here often, then?” I ask. “I see you’re on a first-name basis with all the staff.”

  “Yeah, I’m here a lot. I don’t like to be home much,” he adds with a trace of sadness in his eyes.

  Wondering what it is at home that keeps him away, I let my gaze move from his eyes down to his ring finger. It’s bare, without a trace of a tan line.

  He shakes his head with a faint smile on his lips. “No, it’s not that. I’m not married. Trust me, if I was, I wouldn’t be hanging out at a hotel bar.”

  “Well, being home is overrated,” I say, trying to make his sad eyes go away.

  “Yeah?” he asks.

  “Totally.”

  He chuckles, and I feel it all the way to my core.

  “So what prompted this stay-cation of yours, Stevie?”

  I take another gulp of my martini and blurt out, “I caught my boyfriend cheating on me and had to move out of our place.”

  And this is why I don’t drink in front of people.

  “Shit,” he says under his breath. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” I tell him. I don’t know why I’m compelled to tell him my shit, but he somehow makes it easy. “I have a feeling after my little get-away, he’ll be fighting his way back to me.”

  “Really?” Gabe smirks. “Interesting. Tell me more.”

  “Well.” I take a peek at him from under my lashes. Then I just do it. I push the magazine article forward.

  He shoots me a sideways glance and pulls the article closer. He turns to me with a blank expression, and I immediately feel the need to break the silence.

  “After I get through this list and make some changes, there’s no way he’ll be able to stay away from me. And then I’ll be back in the driver’s seat.”

  Oh no. The sad eyes are back. “You mean to tell me that he cheats on you and you think you’re the one who needs to make some changes? Come on, Stevie. I know we’ve just met, but you seem smarter than that.”

  “I am. This is not for him. It’s for me.”

  “Ah,” he says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Good girl.”

  His words cause an immediate flush throughout my body, not to mention a throbbing between my thighs. I cross my legs and ride out the sensation, trying not to think about a better way to do just that.

  After two more cocktails—when I’m fully tipsy and then some—our conversation circles back to my magazine article.

  “So, what’s your plan?” he asks.

  “Hmm?” I look at him, embarrassingly slow on the uptake.

  “With this article?” He leans close and I can’t help but breathe in his scent—sandalwood and citrus. I move closer and inhale his warm, crisp fragrance.

  “Stevie?”

  Oh my fucking God, this man is so hot—make that h-a-w-t. I do my best to lock him into memory for later. He’s better fodder than my imaginary yoga threesome.

  Once I come to, I tap the magazine article with my newly manicured finger and start to tell him about Operation: Get My Sexy Back.

  As I’m talking, his eyes blaze into mine. I don’t think I’ve ever captured someone’s attention like I have with Gabe. This flirting stuff is getting easier. And hotter. If he looks at me that way again, I may have to club him over the head and drag him up to my room tonight.

  I’m dying here, which makes no sense considering my heart was shattered just a few days before. Of course, this has nothing to do with the heart.

  “I guess I see where you’re going with this plan, Stevie. But are you sure that’s what you want?”

  “We’ll see. It’s all about options. I feel like everything was taken from me when Max cheated—my home, my relationship, my life—and I had no say. I need to regain at least some control and maybe get a little payback while I’m at it. ”

  “Well then, okay,” Gabe says, placing his hand on mine.

  “Okay, what?” I ask, trying to act nonchalant as I turn inside out at his touch.

  “Okay, I’ll help.”

  “You will?” I’m stunned. “Why?”

  “Because I’ve been there.”

  “Been where?” I ask, my body blazing at the intensity of his gaze.

  “Where you are. Feeling unwanted, unworthy, frustrated. Not to mention horny as hell.”

  I go still, his words coursing through every part of my body. My mouth goes dry, nipples tighten, sparks fly down my spine, moisture pools between my legs, and bam!

  Is there such thing as spontaneous orgasm? Because if there is, I think I just had one.

  Once I recover, I’m adamant not to let him embarrass me. Confident and assertive, that’s what I am now.

  In a bold move, I glance under the table. There’s no denying what I see, his arousal strains behind the zipper of his pants. It’s a sight that ignites every fiber of my being. Still, I try to play it off when I look up.

  “No,” I say. “I think you have me confused with yourself, Gabe.”

  “Really?” he growls, before swiftly clamping his hand down on my thigh.

  I lose the act immediately, and my eyelids flutter closed as his hand moves upward, tracing the hem of my dress.

  “Let’s see about that, shall we?” Gabe asks, inching his hand up farther. “I wouldn’t play this game with me. Because you will lose every time. I’m not good with boundaries.”

  “Okay, okay,” I say, reluctantly pulling his hand away.

  Gabe makes a few adjustments, and we each go back to our drinks.

  Once the air is no longer crackling with our sexual tension, Gabe asks, “Are you better now?”

  I nod in reply, still trying to cool myself off.

  “What’s your last name?” I ask in a desperate move to change the subject.

  “Shannon,” he says, playing along.

  “Gabe Shannon,” I repeat, refusing to look away from his perfectly disheveled face and unable to help wondering what the scruff would feel like brushing up against my thigh.

  “And yours?” he asks.

  “Sinclair.”

  “Mmm. Stevie Sinclair. Yes, I think I will help you with your list, Ms. Sinclair.” He traces a finger along my hand. “In fact, I don’t think there’s anything I’d enjoy more.”

  Chapter 4

  Gabe takes the paper from my hand, studying it. He then grabs my notebook and starts a new list.

  “So what is the timeline for this little operation of yours?” he asks.

  “I want to be finished with my list by this weekend,” I tell him. “Max will be home by then.”

  Gabe shakes his head. “No, that’s not enough time.”

  “Well, I don’t have a lot of options. I only have enough points to cover this place until Sunday.”

  “Stevie, listen to me. If you want to take back control, Max needs to miss you, want you. And you have a lot of work to do to get to the end of this list.”

  “What do you mean? I only have a few things left. And I’m a quick study.”

  “Well, I think it’s time to find out.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, almost hearing the air crackle again.

  Gabe tells our server to put my drinks on his bill and then whispers to me, “What’s your room number?”

  Oh my God, he’s serious. He’s going to help me work off my list. I tell him my room number, and he says he’ll meet me up there in five.

  I leave first. Strangely excited and giddy with anticipation, I nearly run to the elevator.

  As promised, Gabe’s there seconds after I reach my door.

  Still, I’m a little unsettled by his secrecy. Why couldn’t he walk me out of the bar?

  “So, what’s with the covert meeting?” I ask. “Don’t want to ruin your rep downstairs?”

  “Something like that,” he says.

  I slowly start to lose my resolve after his comment; he’s so cavalier about it, too. I can’t help the tears that prick my eyes. My emotions are right on my sleeve, and I feel like I could break at any time.

  “Shit.” He grabs my key, slides it in the lock, and leads me inside. “It’s not what you think. I work here, Stevie.”

  “Oh,” I say, relieved, but still confused. “So you just stick around after work, drinking in the lobby and picking up random women?”

  “Why are you so quick to think the worst and dismiss yourself?” he asks, taking my hand and pulling me over to the sitting area in my hotel room.

  “Look, I know I’m not exactly the sexy fling most guys are looking for. I usually get them with my personality, so I could understand if you wanted to keep things hush-hush.”

  “That really pisses me off,” Gabe says, working his jaw. “I manage this place, Stevie. And I don’t usually pick up random women. One of my meetings canceled, and I’m sorry, but I couldn’t take my eyes off you when you walked in tonight. Now, before I track down your ex and make him pay for making you feel so insecure, can we please just focus on your list?”

  “Okay,” I tell him.

  “Good. Now, here, see this last item?” He points to the line marked: Have a Sexual Adventure. “This is where I can help.”

  Oh wow. Wow, wow, wow.

  “You need to expand it though, get detailed, figure out what you want you’ve always wanted to do but have never had the guts to go through with. Something you were too scared to ask your lame ex for.”

  “Why?” I ask, trying to hide the panic in my voice. Things were getting intense.

  “Because that is the one part of your entire list that has any power, that can make any real change in your life. You want control, power, a second chance with your ex? Options, as you put it? Then you need to learn how to make having a sexual adventure part of your everyday life. Not just because you were dumped and need to get your mojo back.”

  “And you’re volunteering for the job?”

  “I would, gladly.” He tips his head toward mine. “But I won’t know until I know what’s in your head.”

  If I’m being honest, I have thought about this. All the things I’ve wanted to do, but never had the guts to talk to Max about.

  “I have some ideas,” I tell him, breathless as is body moves closer to mine.

  “Here.” He hands me the pen. “Write them down.”

  This has to be the craziest thing I’ve ever done. I have a stranger in my hotel room, discussing sexual fantasies and how to get my ex back. Yet, I can’t second-guess it; I am assertive and confident. I look the part. I can even flirt, when pressed. I’m not stopping now. And for some reason, I feel safe with Gabe.

  “First, though,” he says, leaning in and invading my senses again with his spicy scent. “We need to get something out of the way.” He tips his head. “I mean if you’re going to tell me your inner most sexual thoughts.” His breath tickles my lips. “We should know each other a little better.”

  Gabe brushes his bottom lip across mine, and my eyes roll to the back of my head. Then, he runs his tongue across the seam of my lips. I breathe him in, getting high on his scent. His arm pulls me to him, and his hand clamps on the back of my head, holding me in place.

 

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