Good Men Are Like Unicorns

Chapter 1:6: Afternoon Tea

Regina

When I finally got back to my own room at the Grand Hotel, panic was starting to crawl up my spine. My hands started to shake, and my palms started to sweat. I leaned against the door and looked around the luxurious room. Housekeeping had been in while I was attending the conference. My toiletries were neatly arranged on top of the dresser, the bed was made, and there was a chocolate mint waiting for me on the pillow.

Only one mint, because I was meant to be sleeping alone. My head was throbbing, and I felt a little sick as the full realization of what I had just done sank into my stomach. I’d fallen straight into bed with him. After five years, all it took was two pina coladas and one sultry look from him, and I was toast.

I’d worked so hard to convince myself I was over my marriage, over him.

“I’m okay,” I tried to assure myself. But I pulled my small pull-behind carry-on out of the closet anyway. “It’s nothing. It’s a one-night-stand. It happens, people do it all the time.” I looked out the window, where the wintry sun was just starting to set behind the mountains.

“Not even a one-night-stand,” I grumbled. “More like afternoon tea.”

It had been good though. Oh, so good. My insides were still warm and melty, and my core was still throbbing with a slight soreness.

So, I had afternoon s.ex with a man. I could do that. I was allowed. I’m a strong, successful, independent woman. I could have s.ex with anyone I wanted, whenever I wanted.

I could have s.ex with a stranger.

Or, you know. My ex-husband.

I stuffed the outfit that I was supposed to wear tomorrow into the suitcase and swore, sitting down on the edge of the bed and holding my aching head in my hands. “I f.ucked up,” I finally admitted with a groan, rocking myself slowly back and forth over my knees.

A traitorous little voice in the back of my head reminded me that only Japheth had ever made me feel so satisfied.

I couldn’t stay at the Grand. If Japheth knew I was in the same building with him, he’d turn the whole place upside down until he found me. It didn’t matter what stringent security measures the hotel took to safeguard their guest’s privacy, he would find a way to get my room number. Or, he would just come and sit in the conference room and wait for me to make my appearance.

There was no chance he would just go about his business and pretend it never happened. Nope, Japheth Kingsley would want to talk about it. And by talk, I really meant that he would find a way to get me to do what he wanted. He would convince me to go back.

Even if it cost me everything.

And damn it, even after five years, I still wasn’t immune to his charms.

Yep, time to go.

I texted my boss to let her know that I had a family emergency and I would have to leave the conference early. I’d finished my part of the presentation, so there was really no reason I had to stay until the end, anyway. I swept all my cosmetics into the bag with one broad sweep of my arm.

My hair had come undone, and was now tangled crazily around my shoulders. It looked like I had been attacked by a broken hairbrush. I didn’t want to take the time to straighten it out, so I just yanked it into a messy ponytail. The whole time I was rushing around the room, my heart was beating hard against my ribs. Every time I heard the noise of someone passing in the hall, my breath caught, thinking it was Jeff. That he had woken up from his orgasm-induced-nap, and he had found me already.

When I had all of my things packed, I slung my laptop case over one shoulder, and my purse over the other, and rolled my little suitcase behind me. I opened my door cautiously, and looked up and down the hallway, making sure there were no tall-dark-and-handsome hunks looming in any of the shadows.

I bolted to the elevator.

At the reception desk and I quickly turned in my key cards. “So sorry, but I have to check out early, there’s… there’s been an emergency. I have to go. Immediately.”

The woman behind the desk looked concerned. “Oh no, so sorry to hear that. But I’m sorry, we have a twenty-four-hour cancelation policy…”

“No problem, go ahead and charge the room,” I said, anxiously glancing around the lobby. The publishing company was covering the expenses of the hotel stay anyway, it wasn’t like it was going to pinch my pocket. I squirmed anxiously as she finished the billing procedure and handed me the receipt to sign. I scribbled my name, and thanked her hastily before I practically ran for the front entrance.

The cold air hit me like a slap in the face. With night falling, the temperature was hovering somewhere near zero, and I hadn’t put on a coat or a sweater. All I was wearing was my thin business suit blazer. I felt the snot freeze inside my nose as I put my head down, tucked my chin into my neck, and hurried across the parking lot to my car.

My fingers were already numb by the time I reached my Mercedes and fumbled with the key fob. The interior of the car felt like an icebox, and the engine hesitated a minute, protesting at the cold, before it finally purred to life. However, the windshield was frosted over, and the frigid leather seats were sticking to the back of my legs.

"I should have opted for the heated seats," I grumbled.

I should have worn the damn nylons.

I fumbled with my purse while I waited for the engine to get warm enough to thaw the ice on the windows. I had a little travel-sized bottle of headache medicine tucked in the inside pocket. There was a water bottle in the console, but of course it was frozen solid. I popped two tablets into my mouth anyway, and managed to swallow them dry.

By the time the windshield was clear, and I was able to pull out of the parking lot, at least I was stone-cold sober. Which was a good thing, because small snowflakes were beginning to swirl around in my headlights. At least the heater was blowing warm, and my teeth stopped chattering.

There was a steady stream of cars headed up the mountain, skiers and tourists arriving for the weekend. Their headlights blinded me, making the headache even more piercing. I was one of the few cars headed down the hill.

“F.uck,” I said, as I pulled out on to the highway that would carry me down the mountains and back into Rutberg. “I will never touch another piña colada as long as I live,” I swore, turning on my high beams.

It was starting to snow heavily, and the wind had picked up. I could feel it pushing against my car.

I was making the wrong vow.

I should have said, “I will never touch Japheth Kingsley again, as long as I live.”