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“Does it matter now, though?” he asked, growling at me, his eyes seething with anger. “You’ve made your call. It’s over. We’re over. Fuck me very much!”
“What did you expect, Mark?” I asked, turning to face him. “You’re a married man. You’re never going to leave your wife. Sooner or later we both knew that this would have to end.”
“I just wish you would have told me the truth,” he said with a sigh that made him sound old and tired. “You should have said something when this first came up. I’m sure you’ve known about this for a while. Just because I’m married and this…”
“This what, Mark?” I asked, leaning against the counter with my arms folded over my chest. “This what?”
His hands sliced through the air. “This... What we have…”
“You mean us sneaking around and fucking like deviants in public bathrooms and in the back of your car or at my apartment in the middle of the day because you don’t have the balls to leave your wife? Is that the this you’re referring to, Mark?”
He swallowed hard and shook his head. “You always knew that I’d never leave her.”
“And you always knew that this would end, Mark.”
He glared into my eyes for a moment, and then slowly shook his head as he went to the door. “Good luck, Zoe,” he said as he opened the door. “This has been fun.”
CHAPTER ONE: Zoe
I didn’t chase after him. He wasn’t even mine to chase after. He was never mine. But his leaving felt like I was sucker punched in the stomach. I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me as I stood there feeling devastated and confused. I was angry that the paper published the article. They were supposed to wait for another week. Goddammit!
I felt the tears stinging the corners of my eyes. Why is it every time something good happens in my life, people end up getting hurt? That’s not how it’s supposed to go, but it seems like it never fails. I always end up hurting those that are the closest to me. Even though Mark was not mine to love, I cared deeply for him and never set out to hurt him. I didn’t even know how or why I cared for him, but I did. The sex had never been that good. Heck, tonight was the best sex we’ve ever had.
I dried my eyes and took one more glance in the mirror before opening the door and slipping out of the bathroom as inconspicuously as I could. I kept my head down as I walked through the crowd and headed right toward the exit. I just wanted to get the hell out of there. This was not how the night was supposed to go.
“Zoe Maxwell! In the flesh! How have you been?”
I stopped dead in my tracks, took a deep breath and turned around. It was Andrew Brock, a book reviewer for The Times who loved to take selfies with famous authors, yours truly included. I had to be nice to Andrew, even though he got on my last nerve.
“Andrew,” I said, grinning as I held out my hand. “How have you been?”
“I’ve been fabulous,” he said with a smug smile. “I hear you’re about to take a little island vacation to work on your next book.”
“Well, I guess you could say that,” I said, grinning.
“I see your name everywhere now. Zoe Maxwell… Zoe Maxwell … Zoe Maxwe
ll. Book signing here, personal appearance there, author meet and greets… Add to that yet another bestseller. Congrats.”
“Thank you, Andrew,” I said, feigning modesty. “And thank you for your glowing reviews.”
“I’ve enjoyed all your books but I must say, the one with Jenny and Jake, now that story is my favorite. I gave it 5-stars, I believe, which I am sure helped sales quite a bit. Tell me, how do you come up with such steamy sex scenes?”
“Well, I just…”
“There you are!” A woman literally yelled at me from across the room. Shit. I recognized the shrill voice of Carla Grogan, a PR agent who had been pressing me for my business for years. I took a deep breath and held the plastic smile as she approached.
“Carla,” I said as she gave me an air kiss on each cheek. “So nice to see you. How have you been?”
“Oh, I’m fine, but let’s talk about you. I hear you’re leaving for Costa Rica to write a new hot romance series for Roland House?” she said, hand squeezing my arm. “Do they pay you to go there?”
“Well, no, I pay for it,” I said, frowning at the question. “The next book series takes place in Costa Rica and since I’ve never been there, I’d like to get a feel for the country, the lifestyle. So that’s where I’m headed.”
“Lucky you! And your latest book, Pleasing Him. Oh my god, I loved it! It’s like this sexy love affair slash erotic S&M thing with all the… “
“Zoe?”
I turned around as a great sigh of relief escaped my lips when I saw Graham Elliott, an executive at Roland House, my publisher, approach with his arms out. Graham was tall, thin, and as usual, impeccably dressed. His hair had gone silver when he was in his thirties, twenty-something years ago, but his face was tanned, youthful, and free of lines. Graham would have been the perfect man for me—older, reliable, handsome, successful—if he hadn’t been gay.
