Lone Hearts (Lines in the Sand Book 6) Read online

  “Well, that’s why I’m glad I have you, with your eternal prowess. I can live vicariously through you when I become a boring, washed-up housewife. We really do balance each other out beautifully, as friends of course. We’d be terrible lovers.”

  I shake my head at her comment and at the thought of artsy, overall-wearing Harper being the soccer mom type. It’s actually a riot.

  “I don’t think that’s going to happen in this lifetime. I’m happy that Brad is making you happy, even if I do think sex with one man for the rest of your life is a tad morose.”

  “Well, you play love your way, and I’ll play mine. But still, player or not, you are being a bit boring lately. Let’s get back on the winning streak, what do you say? I’ll pick you up in an hour. The Marooned Pirate sound good?”

  “Perfect,” I reply. I love the loud atmosphere there. I love that few people recognize me in the dim lights.

  Not that I’m a famous celebrity or something. Still, when people recognize the CEO of the self-made fashion design empire, they’re always asking for free Evermore handbags or scarves or outfits. And I love my fans, I love doing giveaways, but there comes a point when I have to escape work, you know? Plus, I’m not keen on seeing myself on the tabloid papers when there’s a slow celebrity news day. The last picture of me and Rocky wasn’t very flattering, and I definitely got a lot of backlash online. I like to keep the media focused on my line, on my products, and not on my sometimes-scandalous love life.

  “No Brad tonight?” I ask, truly surprised Harper’s able to tear herself away from his hip. Since they met at a yoga class seven months ago, Harper’s been over-the-top in love.

  And I am happy for her. It’s not that I don’t believe in the value of love or monogamy. I just don’t quite believe in it for me. After all, I’m modern. I’m independent. I’m happy just the way things are. And sometimes, contrary to popular belief, a woman just doesn’t have time for a relationship and fun—so I’ll take fun, any day of the week. Target, spinning class, or seduction at its finest, whatever the day calls for.

  “Not tonight, chica. It’s just you and me… and whoever you deem a worthy catch.”

  “See you soon?”

  “You bet. Meet you out front.”

  I click off the phone, sigh, and shut down my computer.

  Sometimes even the biggest workaholics have to get out and play.

  Five

  Sage

  “See? Isn’t this much better than those damn marketing reports?” Harper asks before clinking her margarita against mine. We’ve claimed our usual table, one I haven’t been at for a while.

  “It does. You’re right, I kind of lost my touch there. I feel a little rusty.”

  “Well, launching a new line that Vogue names the hottest line of the year will do that, you know?” she says, and I shake my head, blushing a little. I’ve worked hard to rise to the top of my game, but I’m still humbled by the fact it’s actually working. Seeing our handbags, our scarves on some of the hottest names in Hollywood these past few months has been ridiculous.

  And kept me ridiculously busy.

  It’s really no excuse, though. I’ve always been good at balancing work and fun. Tonight will have to be the night I even the scale, balancing out all those long nights these past few months.

  “Guess I’ll just have to make up for it tonight.”

  “You might be a little out of touch, off your game. Sure you’re ready to play?” she teases as we scan the room.

  “You just wait. I haven’t lost my touch yet. Oh, and I think Mr. Right for Tonight just walked through the door.” I gesture toward the front of the Marooned Pirate, where a crew has just walked in. A blonde and a redheaded girl animatedly chat, both hanging on the arms of some pretty good-looking men who are clearly taken. Another couple, both male, amble in behind them, chatting animatedly as they wave to another group of friends. They’re both dressed with an amazing sense of style—hey, even when I’m here for fun, fashion’s my thing.

  But in the middle of the crazy, loud group who I’ve seen here a few times before, there stands a man in some nice designer jeans and a button-up shirt. He’s clean-shaven, just like I like them, and he’s tall, super tall. He screams business professional and maybe even a little bit arrogant from his walk to his stance at the bar. He’s scoping the place out, and he glances over at me, staring for a little bit longer than a friendly appraisal. I give him a coy smile as I sip my margarita. He’s here to play, and so am I. This might just be the perfect night to catch up on some fun.

  “Who is he?” Harper asks.

  “I don’t know, but I think I’m going to find out.”

  “Go get him. He’s freaking gorgeous. Play nice.”

  “Don’t I always?” I ask, feeling the drink settle into my veins and boost my confidence.

  I let down my ponytail strategically, tossing my hair to the side as I walk over as confidently as possible, my stilettos leading the way. The man in blue doesn’t take his eyes off me. It feels good.

  Some women are uncomfortable with sexuality, with my mindset about love. I get it. It’s not for everyone. But for me, sexuality equates to power, something I’m fine with having. I use it wisely and I use it respectfully—two consenting adults and all that. There are no pretenses or manipulative endgames. It’s just adult fun, adult sex, and adult needs being met. Nothing more. The rest of the women can have all that mushy stuff. I’m just in it for physical needs.

  I amble up to the tall, handsome stranger and say, “Hi, I’m Sage. Can I buy you a drink?” I don’t like to tiptoe around it. And the type of guys I like, well, they seem to like forward.

  “Cash Creed. And how about we do things the other way around? What are you drinking?”

  I smile confidently up at him, his eyes making my heart flutter in a way it hasn’t in quite some time. “Mr. Creed, that’s not how I do things. I don’t need any man to take care of me.”

  “Is that so?” he asks.

  “I can take care of myself. So how about I buy you a drink, you tell me all about yourself, and then you ask me to dance?”

  “Forward much?” he asks, teasing me with his eyes. I get a whiff of his cologne, and it’s the kind of expensive scent that makes me a little crazy. I’m liking this guy, the sexual chemistry radiating already.

  “Always. Life’s too short for anything else.”

  “Jack and Coke then,” he says, and I smile, brushing past him to flag down the bartender.

  Beside Cash, the redhead and the blonde are whispering, studying me. “Hi, I’m Sage,” I say in a friendly, nonthreatening tone. I’m all about playing hard and having fun, but I don’t have room for being bitchy. If this guy’s taken, I’d rather know now before I get too into things.

  “Avery Johannas,” the blonde says.

  “Jodie Ellison,” the redhead announces, offering a small wave and a smile.

  “Nice to meet you. Do you mind if I steal this one for a bit?” I ask.

  They both shake their heads, grinning.

  “Just making sure. Have a good night,” I say as I hand Cash his drink and pull him to an empty table nearby.

  “So, Cash Creed. Your accent tells me you’re not from around here,” I note, making small talk, taking this guy in, and mostly making sure he’s not a creep. Coming with a group of friends who look respectable and who are regulars is a pretty good sign.

  “Nope. From Texas.”

  “What brings you here?”

  “Grandfather’s funeral,” he replies, his eyes piercing mine.

  “Oh, God, I’m sorry,” I say, seriously feeling bad. Wow, way to go Sage. You are rusty.

  “It’s okay. You couldn’t have known.” He shrugs, taking a sip of his drink, his eyes still piercing into mine.

  “So are you in town for long?” I ask, trying to recover.

  “For the summer, actually. I’ve got some things to help with. How about you?”

  “This is home for me.”

&nb
sp; “Good to know,” he says, still studying me. I’ve met a lot of guys, but there’s something about this one. I can’t quite put my finger on it. Part of it is in the way he looks at me when I’m talking. It’s like he’s drinking me in, those eyes staring but not in a creepy kind of way. In a way that makes me flutter in all the right ways.

  He takes a sip of his drink and we endure some more necessary small talk before he finally leads me to the dance floor. “Oh, sorry,” he says, when the song switches from a slow song to a fast one just as we’re getting ready to dance.

  “For what? I’m not much for slow anyway,” I reply, smirking as I start dancing wildly to the upbeat song.

  Cash joins right in, his body next to mine, the heat from him melding into me. It feels good to connect physically with someone. God, I’ve forgotten how good it feels. Harper’s right. Those marketing reports can wait. In the middle of the song, he smoothly spins me around so I’m facing him, pressing me up against him. This isn’t his first rodeo, either. His smooth moves, his swagger tells me he’s not a stranger to a life of fun.

  “Girlfriend back home?” I ask, studying his eyes. I might be all about no strings attached, but I like to make sure the guys I’m with really don’t have any attachments. I have my boundaries.

  “No. Boyfriend?”

  “No. And if I did, I guess he wasn’t really making me happy if I’m here with you like this,” I reply.

  At this, he leans down and takes my lips with his, hard and fast. The kiss momentarily stuns me because I just wasn’t expecting it. It’s been a while since I’ve met a guy who can match me for being forward. Usually, I’m the dominant one in the relationship.

  Still, as his lips move expertly on mine, I drink it in, the sounds of the club fading into the background. All I know is that his lips are on mine and it feels freaking amazing, his hands on the small of my back with just the right amount of pressure. His hands wander up the back of my white jacket, a tank top still shielding my skin from his hands.

  I’ve never wanted to lose my shirt so much. I’ve never cursed myself so much for wearing so many layers.

  “Will you get a room, brother? Jesus, we’ve been in the club for what, twenty minutes, and you’re already causing a scene?” another voice with a deep drawl says, snapping me out of it. A man in a cowboy hat stands in the middle of the dance floor now, the redhead on his arm. He looks like he could be Cash’s more rugged twin. Must be his brother.

  “This is my brother, Levi,” Cash confirms. “My older, bossy, protective brother. Cock block much, bro?”

  Levi shakes his head. “Nice to meet you. Be careful with this one,” Levi says to me, pointing toward his brother. “He’s a little rough with the heart.”

  “I can handle it, but thanks for the warning,” I reply, still shaken from the kiss.

  “Come on, killjoy. Cash is a big boy. Let these two have their fun,” the redhead says, winking at me. I smile as Cash leans in. “Do you want to take this somewhere else?”

  “Forward much?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

  “Some gorgeous woman told me it’s the best way,” he says. I look back at Harper and give her a quick nod. She’s playing on her phone but looks up to see me. I give her the nod, which is our signal that all is well. She gives me a thumbs-up to let me know she’s leaving before I follow Cash out of the bar.

  “Your place or mine?” he asks.

  “Yours,” I say. It’s one of my unwritten rules. It might be a little riskier, but I’m a girl who likes to live on the edge. And to me, the risk of accidentally misreading a serial killer is less of a risk than letting a guy into my space, my real life. The Sage of the club is part persona, part wall protecting me from others knowing the real Sage Everling. I prefer to keep it that way.

  “Well, I just moved in, so there isn’t much furniture,” he murmurs, pushing a strand of hair out of my face.

  “Is there a bed?” I ask.

  “Yeah, there’s a bed. Although, I must say, I’ve been told I work my best magic in nontraditional settings.”

  “You’ll just have to prove it to me,” I reply, excitement rising as I follow him down the sidewalk toward a night of all kinds of excitement.

  Six

  Cash

  She’s beautiful, but her confidence just adds an extra level of perfection for me. I like a woman who knows what she wants and goes after it. Sage doesn’t disappoint.

  At the door to my condo, I fiddle with the lock, my palms sweaty. Killer barks, trying to sound more ferocious than he is. Once I get the door open, I pick him up so he doesn’t nip at my guest. I don’t need another cock block tonight.

  “Cute dog,” she says, reaching out to pet Killer. Before I can warn her about his tendency to snap at strangers, she’s petting his head, and he’s licking her. Apparently she’s managed to win him over already. Of course, he’s not the only one she’s won over in a short amount of time.

  Maybe it’s the way her perfectly wavy blonde hair falls over her face just enough to be intriguing. Maybe it’s the expensive clothes she wears or the way her hips sway just a little bit as she walks. She knows she’s sexy, but she doesn’t overdo it. She’s mastered the confident, forward vibe I go crazy for. I like a woman who knows what she wants. I like a woman who isn’t a “yes” woman. I like a woman who likes power, and I think Sage might just be all that.

  And I can’t believe how lucky I am that this woman is coming home with me tonight.

  I feel a little twinge of guilt as I lead her into my almost-empty condo, a sad, lonely couch and a coffee table the only furniture in the place. I haven’t invested too much time in this place because I’m not staying all that long. A bed, a couch, and a decent television—what more does a bachelor need? Looking around now, though, I feel like it’s inadequate for a woman like Sage. As I head to the fridge to pull out a bottle of wine I had chilled—I’m nothing if not prepared—I think to myself: is it inadequate? And what is a woman like Sage like?

  We’ve got the chemistry, and I know she’s forward. But who is this woman? What does she do for a living? What’s her story? And what’s her last name?

  Snap out of it, Cash, I tell myself. No use getting all sentimental now. It’s never bothered me before. Sex, nothing more. It’s my thing. And it seems to be Sage’s thing too because as I’m pouring wine, she’s sauntering up to me, her eyes averted to the floor as she takes off her jacket in a smooth, sexy move.

  “So, you did say you have a bed, right?” she asks before biting her pouty, plump lips in a way that makes me crazy.

  I raise an eyebrow. “No small talk first? No getting to know me?”

  She shrugs. “I only need to know one thing. How are you in bed?” she asks, a hip jutted out.

  I grin, shaking my head. “You’ll just have to find out, I guess.”

  “Then what are you waiting for?” she asks, her voice sexy and smoky.

  She grabs my hand, and I exhale loudly through my mouth as she leads me back to the hall, me giving her verbal directions as she pulls me to my room. Once inside, she yanks me into her, kissing my mouth hard and fast, her tongue swirling purposefully against mine. Her hands wander to my belt, and I inhale through my teeth, a rush of air filling my lungs as I feel the excitement build.

  “Are you sure about this?” I ask.

  She raises an eyebrow. “Are you getting all soft on me now?” she asks, winking.

  I smile for a moment before pulling her body against mine, letting her know just how not-soft I am. I murmur in her ear, “Not a chance. Just want to make sure you’re sure.”

  In response, she undoes my belt and slides her hand inside my boxers, grabbing me as I slowly kiss her neck. I don’t know who this Sage girl is or what her last name is, but I know one thing: she knows how to have a good time, and she’s not shy about letting me know it.

  I inhale deeply, the tension released and grogginess taking over my body. Sage’s arm is against mine, and the feel of our skin together feels good…
. Not as good as a few moments ago, but good nonetheless.

  I turn to look at her now, her hair stuck to her forehead not making her any less beautiful. Her full lips, her blue eyes—she’s the total deal. She’s everything I’m sexually attracted to.

  For a moment, I stare at her, liking the sight of her in my bed, liking the feel of her beside me so much that I consider what it would be like to fall asleep beside her. I think about what it would be like to let her fall asleep in my arms. I think about breaking my steadfast rule, one I haven’t broken in five years—I think about letting her stay.

  But then reality sinks in. This isn’t some cheesy-ass romance novel. This is a one-night stand about to become a few-hours stand. It was fun, it was wildly fun, but that was it. Asking her to stay will just lead to clingy phone calls and tears and all sorts of things I don’t want to deal with. I look to her, ready to tell her I have an early morning and I need her to leave—accompanied by my smooth, charming smile, of course.

  “Well, it’s been fun, but I have to get going,” she says, sitting up abruptly before I can choke out the words.

  “Wait, what?” I ask, the words spewing from my mouth.

  She looks at me as she wraps up in the comforter, standing to gather her clothes. “Yeah, it’s been fun, Cash. But I’m going to go.”

  She blows me a kiss before heading to the bathroom with her clothes in hand. I hear the door shut, and I stare up at the ceiling.

  What the fuck just happened? Did she really just get up and leave? No asking to stay, or waiting for me to tell her to leave? She just… left? After all that? Was it not enough? Was it not good for her? All of these questions swirl in my mind, panic setting in for a moment.