About That Fling (14 page)

“Right.” She planted herself back on the edge of the bed and nodded. She made an exaggerated production of sidling up beside him, pretending to brace herself for something unappealing. “Okay, I’m ready. Pucker up.”

She closed her eyes and made an absurd kissy face he knew was supposed to crack him up. But honest to God, he’d never wanted her more than he did in that moment.

He slid his hand into her hair, tangling his fingers into the damp strands and pulling her close. Jenna opened her eyes, and a startled “oh” passed her lips an instant before his mouth found hers. Then he was kissing her hard and deep and wet.

She moaned and arched against him, changing course as quickly as she’d changed into his sweatpants. He curved his palm around the nape of her neck, angling him against her so he could deepen the kiss. He felt breathless and dizzy and so desperate to keep kissing her that he would have given his left testicle to never have to leave this room.

When he finally drew back, Jenna looked as mind-wacked as he did. He took a shaky breath and sat back on the bed.

“Was that awful enough for you?” he murmured. “Bad enough to call it closure?”

She took a shaky breath and slowly shook her head. “Not even close.”

Walking out of that hotel room without tearing her clothes off was one of the hardest things Jenna had ever done.

The fact that Adam was right behind her helped some, but all she really wanted to do was launch herself back onto that flawless white duvet and beg him to make love to her.

Instead, she turned her attention to their plans to blow some paper targets to smithereens. “Why don’t we swing by my house first so I can change clothes?” she suggested, bouncing up off the bed and away from the temptation of Adam. “My aunt isn’t home tonight, so we’ll be able to slip out without anyone asking questions.”

“What about the risk of seeing someone we know at the shooting range?”

She shrugged. “I don’t have any friends who shoot. Mia hates guns, and I can’t imagine anyone else from hospital administration who’d want to spend Friday night with a .45 slimline Glock. I think we’re safe. Worst-case scenario, we’d tell them it’s a precursor to some team-building workshop you’re doing with us next week.”

He raised one eyebrow. “I’ll be introducing the principles of Nonviolent Communication.”

“I take it that doesn’t involve handguns?”

“Not usually, but we can adapt.”

“Okay then,” Jenna said, feeling oddly chilled by the shift to a work-related conversation. It was probably the splash of cold water her libido needed, but still. It was a helpful reminder why she had no business taking her clothes off in front of Adam. Or kissing him in a way that left every nerve in her body shrieking with desire.

“This is good,” she said. “We’re working together. Keeping things professional.”

Adam gave her an odd look, but nodded. “Let’s get your car.”

They reached the shooting range a little after nine thirty, with Adam looking curious, if a little uncertain. She tucked her keys in her purse and laid a hand on his arm.

“You’ve really never fired a gun before?” she asked.

“Not even a BB gun.”

“You’re not opposed to them, are you? I just do it for target practice, and I’ve taken a couple classes on self-defense. I don’t even own a gun of my own. We don’t have to do this if you’re anti-gun or something.”

“No, I’m fine. Besides, it’s all part of my post-divorce resolution.”

“Your post-divorce resolution involves handguns?”

“No, my post-divorce resolution involves a pledge to try new things. Things I never did in my ex-life.”

Jenna blinked, then she realized he’d said ex-life, not ex-
wife
. Funny how similar the two things were. Even so, she felt a pang of betrayal for her best friend. Would Mia be hurt to know Jenna was here firing pistols with Mia’s ex? Between the pregnancy and work drama and the challenges with Mark and Katie, Jenna knew damn well Mia was having a rough time. It wasn’t kind to rock the boat.

But hell, it wasn’t like Mia had peed on Adam to mark him like a fire hydrant. Had she ever actually said, ‘Don’t date my ex?
’
”

She never explicitly asked me not to light her house on fire, either, but I can safely assume that’s a given.

“Come on,” Jenna said, pulling Adam through the front door before her train of thought could get any weirder. “We check in first at the front counter to rent guns and reserve a lane. Handguns okay?”

“As opposed to what?”

“Rifles. Grenade launchers.” She grinned, enjoying the novelty of being with him in a non-work setting with all their clothes on. “I’m kidding about the grenade launchers, but there is an outdoor rifle range. Can’t you hear it?”

“That’s rifle fire? I figured someone was playing with firecrackers.”

“You really are a novice.”

“Guilty as charged.” He looked around and lowered his voice. “I shouldn’t say that out loud, huh? They probably won’t give me a gun if I’m a felon.”

Jenna laughed and towed him toward the counter, unsurprised to see a line of women waiting their turn while the group at the head of the line debated the merits of a standard Ruger versus a Smith & Wesson. She watched Adam taking it all in, his green eyes studying the cases of ammo behind the counter, the posters for shooting classes and handgun safety.

There was something thrilling about being here with him. About the idea of introducing him to something new, something he’d never tried with anyone else.

You’re renting a handgun, not testing out a new sex position.

She shook off her annoying inner voice and studied him some more. His eyes were bright and curious, and his jaw was pebbled with stubble. He’d donned an old T-shirt and jeans that looked so soft she wanted to rub her cheek on his thigh. She looked back at his face, amused to see he was still surveying the lobby.

The instant his expression froze, Jenna felt her heart clench. All the color drained from his face, and Jenna felt her mouth go dry.

“What is it? Adam? What’s wrong?”

He opened his mouth to reply just as a female voice echoed over the crowd. “Adam Thomas? Is that you?”

Jenna turned to see a petite blonde woman making her way toward them. Their eyes locked, and the woman blinked in surprise. “Jenna? What brings you here? Are the two of you together?”

“Ellen.”

Jenna uttered the word at the same time Adam did, and some immature part of her wanted to call “jinx” and laugh about the whole thing.

But most of her wondered why Adam was so affected by the sight of Mark’s ex-wife.

“Hello, Ellen,” Adam said. “I didn’t realize you’d moved to Portland.”

“Well, when Mark relocated with—with
her
—it just made sense to do the same. I can work from anywhere, and it was important for Katie to have a relationship with her father, even if he does make piss-poor decisions in life.” She frowned and looked at Jenna. “Sorry, Jenna. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I know Mia is your friend.”

“It’s okay,” Jenna murmured, even though it wasn’t. She’d only met Ellen twice before, both times when she’d been at Mia’s house and Ellen had shown up to retrieve Katie. She hadn’t been pleasant.

With the tension radiating off the woman like sonic waves, Jenna wasn’t feeling too pleasant herself.

“So what brings you here?” Ellen asked, looking from Adam to Jenna and back again, a hint of amused suspicion on her face.

“I’m in town doing some mediation work at the medical center where Jenna works,” Adam supplied, finding his words first. “Jenna’s part of the bargaining group, so we’re preparing some team-building exercises in advance of next week’s session.”

“Nonviolent Communication,” Jenna supplied, feeling stupid and out of place uttering the words. “With handguns.”

“Right,” Ellen said, frowning. “I’m not familiar with that method.”

Adam cleared his throat. “So what brings you here, Ellen?”

“Oh, just came out for girls’ night. I took up target shooting as a hobby last year, so this helps me unwind. Blow off a little steam, you know?”

“Absolutely,” Jenna said, remembering how frustrated Mia had been when she’d learned about Ellen’s new hobby.

“She keeps guns in the house with Katie,” Mia had said, raking her fingers through her bright red hair. “Guns! With a twelve-year-old sleeping down the hall.”

Thinking of Mia filled Jenna with a lukewarm mix of fondness and guilt, and she forced herself to turn her attention back to the conversation at hand.

“So, it’s been good seeing you,” Adam said. His tone was almost normal now, but Jenna could see the tension in his jaw. “Take care, Ellen.”

Ellen blinked, visibly surprised by the dismissal. “Of course. I hope you’re doing well, Adam. All things considered.”

“It’s water under the bridge,” he answered. “Let bygones be bygones. Forgive and forget and all that.”

He was spewing clichés like some sort of broken motivational tape, so Jenna mustered up the most genuine smile she could, and made her best effort to save him from whatever was troubling him. “It’s great running into you, Ellen. I saw Katie the other day. She’s growing into such a smart, beautiful young woman. You must be so proud.”

Ellen’s eyes narrowed, and Jenna wondered where she’d misspoken. Was it the reminder that Katie had Mia in her life? Another female role model who was nothing at all like Ellen herself?

“Right,” Ellen said, nodding sharply before turning away. “Have a nice night, you two.”

“Shoot hard,” Adam called. “Or shoot well. Or—” He shook his head and lowered his voice. “Whatever the fuck you wish someone at a shooting range.”

Jenna watched as Ellen vanished into the crowd. When she was certain the woman was out of earshot, she turned back to Adam.

“What the hell was that?”

“What do you mean?” His expression was less guarded now, but he hadn’t unclenched his jaw.

“You acted like you were being forced to make conversation with a serial killer.”

“Not a serial killer. Maybe someone convicted of chronic jaywalking or a few instances of petty theft.”

“What?”

“It was a metaphor.” He sighed and took a step forward with the line. “There’s some history there.”

“Besides the fact that she used to be married to the guy who stole your wife?”

He flinched at the words, and Jenna instantly regretted them. She opened her mouth to apologize, but he’d already moved on.

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“How do you mean? Mark and Ellen had been divorced for a while when he and Mia had their—” she stopped, cleared her throat of the word
affair.
“When Mark and Mia got together. Mia told me Ellen and Mark divorced more than a year before that.” She paused as it occurred to her she only knew Mia’s version of the story. “Right?”

Adam shrugged. “Sort of. Mark and Ellen split up, but they were working on patching things up. Dating again, trying to see if they could make it work. For their daughter’s sake, and because there was a lot of history there. Then Mia came along and derailed things.”

Something flared in Jenna. Defensiveness for her friend, and maybe a touch of annoyance at being in this situation in the first place. “According to Ellen.” Jenna wasn’t sure if she meant it as a question or a statement, and she saw Adam’s brow’s lift ever so slightly.

“You don’t believe it?” he asked. “That Mia would knowingly wreck someone else’s relationship?”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I mean, obviously I know about what happened with your marriage. She was up front with me from day one. She takes full responsibility for the affair, Adam.”

“Okay,” he said. It sounded like agreement, but his jaw was still clenched tight.

“I’m just saying, I think she would have told me if the affair broke up two marriages instead of one. That’s all.”

“Does it matter?”

“Maybe,” she said, not sure why it did. The line moved forward and Jenna shuffled along with it, only dimly aware of the hum of female voices around her and the distant crack of gunfire. “Is it possible Mark never told Mia he and Ellen were trying to patch things up?”

“Anything’s possible. Is anyone ever the villain in their own version of a story?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just that when someone has an affair—” his face twisted a little on that word, and Jenna longed to reach for his hand, but she stayed still. “When someone has an affair, that person can always find a way to justify it in their mind. In their explanations to other people. Even if they admit later on that it wasn’t the right choice, deep down, they can tell the story in a way that convinces you it was a reasonable choice.”

“So what’s the alternative?” she asked, surprised by the prickliness in her own voice. “You want her to wear a scarlet letter? To don a hair shirt and spend the rest of her life hiding in a cave doing penance? People make mistakes, Adam. It happens all the time, and they can’t be expected to spend the rest of eternity being punished for it.”

Adam shook his head and took a deep breath. “Look, I don’t want to argue about this. I’m sorry. This is a tender subject for me, and yeah, I’ll admit it—it bothers me sometimes to know you’ve only heard Mia’s side of the story.”