What She Wants Page 4

  The next right thing to do? Finding Jerrod Stone. Damn, I hope I recognize him. She strolled through the ballroom, scanning faces for anyone familiar. At the refreshment table, she picked up a glass of bright red punch and downed it out of nervousness.

  Her thirst quenched, she continued to travel amidst the guests.

  “Finally, a friendly face.” A woman spoke from behind her.

  Denise turned around and smiled when she recognized her old chemistry lab partner, Shelly Garth. “Shelly!” She hugged the pretty, trim blonde. “It’s nice to see someone I don’t need a nametag to place.”

  They pulled apart and she glanced at Shelly’s tag surreptitiously. If she didn’t want people commenting on her marital status, she shouldn’t remark on theirs. But she did wonder if her old friend had ever married.

  Shelly must have noticed the peek. “Yes, it’s still Garth. You probably heard I got married.” She smiled. “I did. Twice. The first guy turned out to be such a jerk; I took my maiden name back. The second guy’s name was Rosenpheffer. You might remember, my given name is Rochelle. Not going there. I kept my name. Good thing. It didn’t last, anyway.”

  Denise laughed. “I’m sorry, Shelly. It’s not funny. I’m just picturing the signature, Rochelle Rosenpheffer.”

  The blonde rolled her clear green eyes. “He wanted a whole gaggle of kids, too. I couldn’t imagine saddling anyone with that name, but mainly, with him as a father. He was nutty.”

  “I’m sorry.” Denise quelled her last chuckle. “At least you have a better defined list of what you want when it comes to picking number three.”

  “I’m in no hurry to get married again. I’m taking life easy, having fun. I date a little, and I love my job. I’m a booking agent with Sunshine and Blue Skies Travel Agency. How about you?”

  Denise filled Shelly in on her career, pleased the woman either didn’t know about Michael or was tactful enough not to mention him. She’d just finished speaking when a tall man, at least six-three, stepped behind Shelly with two glasses of the fruity red punch.

  “Pardon the interruption.” He handed a glass to Shelly.

  “Hey, Tyler. Thanks.” Shelly accepted the glass and nodded at Denise. “This is my former chem lab partner, Denise. Denise, this is Tyler.”

  Denise tried not to stare. Her old friend must indeed be having fun if her date tonight, Tyler, was any indication. His dark eyes sparkled with an ornery gleam. Unkempt brown hair curled around his collar in little-boy fashion, but nothing else said “boy” about the man. Even through his stylish blue suit, Denise could spot muscles in all the right places. “Pleased to meet you.”

  He smiled. “You, too, Denise. Here, have some punch.”

  “Thanks.” Their fingers touched as she accepted the glass and a tiny shock sizzled through her. Snap out of it! Tyler was there with Shelly. Denise would not be one of those women. She’d find her own date. “I, uh”—she turned back to Shelly—”wonder if Jerrod Stone is here yet?”

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Tyler shift from one foot to the other, apparently irritated. What’s up with that? Did he think he could hit on her, right there in front of his date? Not going to happen.

  “Oh, Jerrod Stone.” Shelly smiled. “I haven’t thought of him in ages. He was such a jock. Never gave a second glance to a nerd like me.”

  “I hear he works on TV now.” Denise gazed around the room, then remembered her manners. “You were not a nerd.”

  “Let’s put it this way, I liked chemistry. Jerrod Stone liked blondes with less in their heads and more in their sweaters.”

  Denise realized Shelly was correct. Maybe Jerrod wasn’t the perfect guy she’d twisted her memory into. Oh, for fuck’s sake! She wasn’t looking for husband number two, just a hot hook up for the weekend.

  “Didn’t think you were into jocks,” Tyler said to Shelly, then focused his gaze on Denise.

  “I’m not.” Shelly sipped her punch. “But Denise attracted a wider audience than me. I mean, look at her. Thick, gorgeous brown hair, spotless complexion, a killer smile, and that figure! Sheesh. Please tell me you don’t have kids.”

  Denise’s face grew hot and she smiled. “Two teenagers. Can you believe it?”

  “I can’t.” Tyler’s gaze roamed over her.

  She shifted uncomfortably. Could Shelly see him ogling her? The woman was being so sweet. Denise wanted to move on before she unintentionally caused any trouble for the couple. “Hey, it was really great seeing you. I’m going to wander around a bit.”

  Tyler ran the back of one finger over her arm. “Save me a dance?”

  Denise forced her jaw to remain closed. “I don’t think so. I’m sure your date would love to dance with you.”

  He started to speak, but she hurried off, amazed at his chutzpah.

  She mingled and encountered a number of familiar faces, stopping each time to make small talk. The people she used to think of as normal all seemed so phony now. Everyone acted deliriously happy, with great jobs and wonderful families. When she ran into Michael, it was a relief.

  “Hey.” She smiled at him genuinely. He looked great in black slacks and a grey cashmere sweater. His neatly trimmed black hair had the slightest touch of silver at the temples. Despite what they’d been through, she still thought he looked wonderful.

  “Oh, hi.” He fidgeted, glancing around. “Look, just so you know, Lucas is getting some drinks. He’ll be back any minute.”

  She waved a hand. “I don’t care. God, Michael, have you talked to anybody? Who are these people?”

  He chuckled. “A group of really happy saps without problems, it would seem. I know people want to put their best face forward at events like this, but Christ! I just want to say, ‘Damn, my retirement account took a hit last year. How about you?’“

  She nodded. “You should. Oh, and just so you don’t feel alone, I’ll tell you my account tanked, too.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You think? Suppose that has anything to do with half of my account being your account?” He nudged her arm jovially.

  “Oh, maybe.” Denise felt comfortable for the first time that evening. She spotted Lucas approaching, and a twinge of jealousy struck her.

  “Hey.” The thin, handsome blond passed a clear drink to Michael. “Hello, Denise. Can I get you anything?”

  She held up her glass, still half full. “Thanks anyway. Hi, Lucas.” She gave him a resigned smile. He really was cute, and nice from what her children said. He and Michael made a handsome couple.

  “You look great tonight.” Lucas nodded at her and sipped his drink.

  Michael quickly agreed. “Yes, you do. I’m sorry. I should have mentioned that earlier.”

  She waved a hand. “You’re both just being kind. I probably look as pathetic as I feel. At least you know you’ll be going home with someone tonight.” She inspected each of their glasses closer. “Is that a real drink? Someone handed me this God-awful fruit punch.” She tossed back the last of the liquid in her glass.

  “They have a bar.” Lucas nodded toward her drink. “What would you like? I could—”

  Michael raised a hand. “I’m not sure you should be drinking in this state of mind. I’ve never heard you describe yourself as ‘pathetic’ before.”

  “I didn’t really mean that. It’s just—everyone here paints such rosy pictures of their lives. Don’t get me wrong, my life is pretty good. But we all know it ain’t all sunshine and roses. Hell, my old chem lab partner even works at a place called fucking Blue Skies and Daisies Travel Agency.” Her mind grew fuzzy and she blinked. “Or something like that.”

  Michael removed the punch glass from her hand and sniffed it. “Grain alcohol. Good lord, Denise. How many of these have you had?”

  “Only a couple. I’m fine.” Her voice sounded slurred, but she felt okay. Good, even. She smiled.

  “Probably should tread lightly around the punch,” Michael advised.

  “You may be right.” She brushed a strand of hair from
her face and gawked when she spotted the person she’d been looking for all evening. “Hey! There he is! Jerrod Stone.”

  The men turned to look.

  “Oh, he’s nice,” Lucas agreed. “An old friend?”

  Denise hiked up the sides of her bra so she showed more cleavage. “Let’s say a new friend. For tonight, anyway.”

  Michael eyed her skeptically. “Really, Denise? Are you sure about this?”

  “Take it easy, Michael. I’m not moving in with the guy. I just want to say hello.” She nudged him with an elbow as she passed, and smiled back at Lucas. “See you, boys.”

  “Have fun,” Lucas called after her.

  Denise could hear Michael reprimand his lover, and she chuckled. She approached two men talking and laughing, her eyes on Jerrod the whole time.

  His teeth gleamed pearly white when he smiled. Wavy black hair, trimmed perfectly just above his ears, showed not one speck of grey. He wore an expensive-looking sport jacket over a neat, black striped shirt and tailored dark slacks, and he wore the monochrome outfit well. The stylish getup had him looking hot and sexy, like a TV star rather than a newscaster. He also looked young, but Denise knew him to be her age.

  Plastic surgery? Whatever, the man obviously cared about his appearance and did a fine job keeping himself up. Self-consciously, Denise sucked in her gut and stepped forward. “Hello.”

  Jerrod’s companion, shorter and with slightly less hair than her target, aimed a friendly smile at her and reached for her hand. “Denise Lipton. As I live and breathe. How are you?”

  She shook his hand, trying to focus on his nametag.

  He must have seen her less than subtle glance, and added, “John Sturges. You probably don’t remember me. We were in a play in eighth grade together.”

  “Paul Bunyan and his blue ox.” She grinned and they said the ox’s name together, “Babe.”

  John laughed. “You remember! I can’t believe it.”

  “It was a pretty big deal back then. I worried I’d forget my lines in front of everybody.”

  “If I recall, you did beautifully.” He squeezed her hand before letting go.

  Denise pulled away. One of the other things she remembered about the play was John trying to kiss her backstage when the last act ended. His breath smelled like corn chips and she hadn’t been interested, then or now. “It was nice to see you again.” She focused her attention on Jerrod.

  A plastic smile lined his face, but his eyes were vacant. He held out a hand politely. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Jerrod Stone. Denise Lipton, you said?”

  She tried to tamp down her disappointment. “Crawford, now. We had some classes together. Do you recall English Literature, with Miss Bloodworth?”

  He scowled. “Old Bloodsucker? Hell, yeah. She was one tough old bird, the only teacher who wouldn’t give a break to the basketball team. She made us pass the tests.”

  Denise couldn’t help but chuckle, and John joined her.

  “What an old bat!” John teased.

  “Awful.” Jerrod deadpanned.

  She realized he was joking, and smiled. “Poor thing!”

  “I barely squeaked by. I had to cheat off some brainy brunette sitting next to me in class.”

  She stared at him for a moment, then blinked, waiting for him to catch on.

  “Oh, my God!” A wide grin split Jerrod’s face. “Was that you?”

  Feeling a little gutsier, Denise poked his chest lightly. “I studied Poe for two weeks before that test.”

  Jerrod caught her hand in his. “Then I truly do owe you. How about a dance? We can discuss Poe in all his glory, see how much I remember.”

  She smiled. “I’d love to.”

  As he led her to the dance floor, she spoke to John once again. “Lovely to see you.”

  “You, too,” he replied, his eyes looking slightly sad.

  The music playing had a slow beat, and Jerrod pulled her into his arms. “I’m afraid I dashed dear old Paul Bunyan’s hopes back there.”

  Denise snuggled next to his hard body. “He’s a nice guy, but thanks. I’ve got a few memories there, and I’d rather not go backward tonight. I prefer to move forward.” She shifted one thigh to rest between his legs. To her pleasure, an erection greeted her.

  “Mmm,” Jerrod held her waist tighter. “Me too. And I don’t remember a thing about Poe. That was a ruse to get you over here, into my arms.”

  “Good.” Denise rested her head on his chest. “English Literature is the last thing I want to talk about.”

  He brushed the hair off her neck and planted a light kiss there. “Why talk at all?”

  A pleasant jolt of electricity zipped down her spine and tingled all the way to her pussy. Jerrod’s as horny as I am. Maybe they’d both get a little relief tonight. If only…she hated to spoil the magic, but had to ask. “You’re not married or seeing someone, I hope.”

  “Nope. I’ve been hitched a couple times, but it didn’t work out for one reason or another. Right now I’m free as a bird.”

  “Good.” Relief washed through her, along with more sparks of sexual energy. This is exactly what I’m looking for.

  He continued to nibble her neck and murmured, “What about you, Denise Crawford née Lipton? Is there a Mr. Crawford who might suddenly appear and deck me if he catches us with our pants down?”

  She chuckled and bent her head to give him better access. “It doesn’t sound like that would stop you.”

  Jerrod shrugged and traced a wet path to her earlobe. “Not sure it would. I just like to know what I’m getting into.”

  “No worries. Michael and I have been divorced for two years. Two long years.” She bucked her hips against his, enjoying the hard ridge of his erection.

  He froze, pulled back and looked closely at her. “Michael? You married Michael Crawford?”

  “Yes,” she answered impatiently. “I thought we’d agreed not to talk.” Michael was the last thing she cared to discuss at the moment, but perhaps she owed Jerrod that much. “We got hitched in college. The marriage lasted fifteen years.”

  Low laughter rumbled from his chest. “And then he realized he preferred ‘outies’ over ‘innies’? Oh, my God, you poor woman. I can’t imagine how that made you feel!”

  His laughter gave her a pretty good indication of how he felt.

  She chose her words carefully. “Things were tough at the time, but everything has worked out. We have two wonderful kids together—”

  “Kids? Ugh.” Jerrod shuddered. “Never saw the need for that, myself. Whiny, needy, and they’re always spilling stuff. I live in a very expensive penthouse in Tribeca. No kids or pets allowed.” He resumed sucking a spot at the base of her neck.

  Denise squirmed, partially from arousal and the rest from a nugget of discomfort forming from Jerrod’s words. This man obviously wasn’t someone she could relate to on any basis other than sex. Tribeca ranked as one of the most expensive neighborhoods in New York City. The “no kids” comment stung, but she tried to remain level headed, even through the grain alcohol fog.

  I didn’t come here looking for a husband. She was hot to trot and interested in a one-night rendezvous. Jerrod seemed to fill the bill perfectly. Maybe it was time to suggest going to her room. “Jerrod, I—”

  One of his hands slid inside her blouse, cupped her breast, and squeezed.

  She muffled her surprise and squirmed again, this time from pure lust. “I, uh, have a room upstairs. Would you like to go there?”

  He glanced around quickly. “A room? And leave the party? I’d rather stay down here.” He pinched her nipple, then pulled his hand from her shirt, grabbing her fingers. “Come with me. I know just the place.”

  “What? Where?” Denise let him drag her off the dance floor and through the crowded room. Just past the concession table, she spotted a storage closet.

  Jerrod looked around, then drew her inside the small, dark room. “Here we go.” He smiled and pulled her ass close to him again.


  Denise tried to get her bearings in the dusty, dim space. She made out a row of boxes on one wall and a large bunch of unused tables, folded and stacked, along the other. “This is horrible.”

  “This is perfect.” Jerrod shoved her up against the pile of tables. “We can still hear the music, get our groove on, and be back at the party before anyone realizes we’re gone.”

  “Jerrod…” She pressed her hands against his chest. The one-night fling had been her idea, but she’d envisioned champagne and a bathtub, maybe some roses and a large, welcoming bed. Not a stack of cold, brown tables. “This is ridiculous.”

  “Come ‘ere, baby.” He tried to yank her skirt up and her seamed, black stockings down.

  “What are you doing?” She struggled against him. “This is insane!”

  “I am insane”—he murmured into her ear—”with lust. I’m going to fuck you, Diane, better and harder than you’ve ever been fucked before.” He reached between them and fumbled with his zipper.

  Her alcohol buzz had worn off, and Denise was firmly in control of her senses. Pushing hard against his chest, she shoved Jerrod away and hurried to fix her clothing. “It’s Denise, you jackass. The least you could do, and I mean the very least, is to get my name right.”

  Jerrod got his footing and stood, surprise on his face. “I said Denise! Maybe you should check your hearing.”

  She frowned. “My hearing is perfect. It’s my judgment that needs checked. I can’t believe you thought we were going to do anything in here.”

  He straightened his trousers. “I see now why Crawford left you. Frigid bitch.”

  “Hey!” Denise bristled under his words. “I suggested we go to my room. I was all prepared to spend the night with you. I wasn’t prepared for a five minute quickie in a closet.”

  His handsome face curled into an ugly scowl. “Five minutes was probably more than you deserved, cock tease.” He made a move to shove her.

  Denise raised her hands in self-defense, and when Jerrod ducked his head, she grasped a handful of hair. To her shock and horror, when he straightened, the hair stayed in her hand.