He wasn’t so sure about that theory, but never bothered to argue with her.
He took a bolstering swallow of his bourbon and headed for the bedroom, a large master suite. Jenna was not the deepest, most sensitive person he had ever met—but she was very good in bed. Hey, a guy can’t expect a woman to be perfect.
Unfortunately, the concept of female perfection brought to mind one woman and one alone…Stephanie Rossi. He stripped off his shirt and trousers, wondering what Stephanie was like in bed. She always seemed so quiet and controlled. Yet he had long suspected that was an act, mostly for his benefit—a “persona” she donned for the office.
For one thing, there was her sense of humor. Surprisingly sharp and even zany at times. And he’d always found you could tell a lot about a woman by watching her eat. One morning he’d spied Stephanie having breakfast at her desk, a sticky cinnamon roll and a frothy cappuccino. The way she had delicately devoured the pastry, her eyes half closed as she licked the tip of one finger, her tongue darting out, skimming the trace of sugary icing….
He felt a lump forming in his throat—and other places on his anatomy—just thinking about it. She was a deeply sensual woman—no question about it. Secretly sensual perhaps. But that would make it all the more delightful to unveil her hidden, erotic side. Yes, a man would be very lucky indeed to be granted that special privilege.
Unlike Jenna, who flaunted her sexuality so boldly he’d become numb to it. Ah, well. Like the song goes, you can’t always get what you want.
He strolled across the bedroom in his briefs, not even bothering to glance at his image in the large mirror that hung on the opposite wall. For all his good looks and the admiring glances he constantly received, he was not a vain man. His tall, wide-shouldered frame was lean and fit, with well-developed muscles in his long legs, chest and arms. His chest was covered with a mat of dark brown hair, tapering down his flat, sculpted stomach. He liked to keep fit and needed to be in top shape just to keep up with his demanding lifestyle. He worked out regularly in the hotel’s fully equipped health club, and swam laps in the Olympic-size pool. Living across the street from Central Park made it easier to take an early-morning jog, or even go cycling.
Like many men approaching forty, Matt found it wasn’t quite as easy to finish those fifty sit-ups, or sprint that last mile. He sometimes worried about going “soft” all over. Yet the truth of the matter was, he didn’t have much to worry about. The women in his life never had any complaints.
As Matt pulled a dark-plum bath sheet from the linen closet, he noticed the light flashing on the phone machine, which sat on a writing desk in the corner of the bedroom. He walked over and pressed the answer button. Jenna’s high-pitched voice greeted him. She tended to squeal when excited and he turned the volume down.
“Hey, Matt. It’s me. I was really looking forward to seeing you, sweetie. But something has come up at work and I’m leaving tonight for—guess where?—the French countryside. Top secret emergency, sweetie, so don’t tell a soul. Guess what? Brian and Melanie are getting married—” Matt frowned. He didn’t know any Brian, or Melanie. Then he realized Jenna was talking about two famous actors who were always on the cover of the supermarket tabloids. Brian Bigelow and Melanie Marsh? Something like that.
Jenna, the celebrity authority, often referred to total strangers on a first-name basis, a habit he found annoying.
Jenna’s voice rattled on, and he listened with half an ear. He already knew the punch line. He’d been stood up for Brian and Melanie. For some reason, instead of feeling let down, he felt strangely…relieved.
“…so our sources heard the wedding was not going to be in Palm Springs or at Brian’s ranch in Montana. I mean, I knew that was a spin all along. Then I found out the real location. Brian’s stepmother’s chateau. She’s practically British royalty, you know. Lady Gainsworth…or Gainsworthy? I’m not sure…. Anyway, her personal secretary’s sister-in-law goes to the same day spa as I do. So she was getting a body wax in the booth right next to me and I heard everything. Lucky, right?”
How long was his message tape, Matt wondered. Didn’t it have an automatic cutoff at some point?
“Sorry, sweetie, but this really is the story of the year. I can’t miss out. Anyway, kisses and kisses, Matt sweetheart—” Matt heard some juicy kissing sounds and winced a bit. “I’ll make it up to you next week. Promise,” Jenna added with a sexy laugh.
A long, electronic beep signaled the end of her seemingly endless message. Well, so much for his hot date. He pressed the rewind button on the machine and headed for the shower.
Maybe Jenna breaking this date was in fact, a good thing.
This relationship wasn’t going anywhere and it was time he faced it. When she came back, he’d take her out to dinner and have the usual talk. “It’s not you, it’s me…” etcetera and so on. He knew his lines by heart by now. She’d probably be angry. Maybe even throw a drink at him. Some women did. He’d send her flowers, maybe a nice piece of jewelry?
Was there something wrong with him? Why was he so hard to please? Why couldn’t he find a woman who didn’t drive him crazy, or just plain bore him to tears?
Matt turned on the shower, adjusted the water to the steaming-hot temperature he preferred, then stepped into the black-marble and glass enclosure. For years, he’d been focused on building his business. Working hard and playing hard. He loved the company of charming, attractive women and was rarely without a gorgeous one in his life. But relationships—real relationships—were never a priority to him. Women seem to come and go, the next one always more enticing than the last.
As a young man, his motto had always been, “So many women, so little time.” But now it seemed more as if time was running out, and while he’d enjoyed the company of many, he still hadn’t found that special one in the world, the woman that was made just for him. Did she really exist? Would he ever find her?
Once upon a time, he’d been an optimist about such matters. A real romantic. But that had all changed back in college, when his first love left him for another man. She’d not only broken his heart, but had also made off with his inheritance, the seed money for his business. With the help of banks and investors, he’d managed to succeed anyway. Eventually, he’d realized that his ex-wife had robbed him of something even more valuable than money—the courage to reach out and love again.
Now it felt as if he was forever trapped in a hopeless loop of meaningless romances, with trophy dates like Jenna. Finally, just like tonight, he always found himself alone.
He briskly toweled off, then dressed in jeans and a black V-neck pullover. He combed his thick wet hair straight back and didn’t even think about shaving. Maybe I’ll grow a beard this weekend, he thought as he walked barefoot back into the living room.
He freshened his drink, then flicked on the evening news. The flashing images captured only a fraction of his attention. He was weary and the weekend seemed to stretch out endlessly—echoing with loneliness.
He’d take out his phone book and call someone. There were plenty of names to choose from. He could find a date for tonight, even at such short notice, he consoled himself. He and Jenna didn’t really have an exclusive relationship. He considered this solution, then realized there wasn’t any other woman he really wanted to see.
Well, there was one. But she was off-limits to him.
He took a gulp of his drink, the ice tinkling against the crystal glass. He’d drive out to his country house and spend the weekend
