Page 21 of Sinful Abandon

Just because he is an exceptional lover does not mean he’s worth changing my plans and my lifestyle. Ryan thinks I don’t know a thing about love. Maybe I don’t. What I do know is a lot about lust, and what we shared the other night was pure, unadulterated lust.

And why am I worrying so much about what the kid thinks? I should be worried about what my colleagues might think. They’ve been whispering about me for months, excluding me from their camaraderie. People aren’t stupid. They know I’ve been sleeping with the boss. I’ve just been too good at hiding the evidence, so they couldn’t prove anything. Especially now that Jarrod and I are engaged. We’re in love.

At least in their eyes, we are.

I look out my office window to the slimy green waterway that sits in between buildings, imposing on the city and making it impossible to get across town without having to cross one of the ridiculous bridges.

Let me tell you something about the Chicago River in the summer. It smells like rotten eggs.

I saunter into the conference room and take my seat.

Ryan is seated at a chair along the wall on the opposite side of the room. Children aren’t allowed at the big kid’s table.

His head is down, as he’s scouring over notes on a legal pad. His brown hair is brushed back, the ends a touch too long. He’s wearing a blue-and-white-checkered shirt and khaki pants along with metal-framed glasses that cause me to let out an internal groan. Of course he has the sexy Clark Kent thing going on.

As if he can feel my stare, Ryan lifts his head. Those blue eyes connect with mine. My breath hitches, and for a second, I can’t think of anything but the desire to crawl across this table and mount myself on top of him.

His chest puffs out. His tongue skims his bottom lip.

My mouth parts, and while I’m actually contemplating asking him to move to my side of the room, I see his gaze sweep down my neck to the scoop of my dress and then over to the slope of my arm before crashing on the ring on my finger.

His eyes turn dark. His face pulls in. Vileness and disgust are written all over that beautiful face.

I flip the stone around, so it’s nestled inside my palm, and I open my folder.

I don’t have time to be judged.

“Morning, people.” Jarrod walks in. He stops at the head of the table and throws his books, papers, and phone down. Adjusting the button on his jacket, he takes a seat and rifles through his things as he starts the meeting.

He takes his time with working his way around the table, listening to everyone pitch him their story ideas. All the while, I sit and wait for him to look my way, curious to see if I am wearing his ring.

“Ryan Pierson, star athlete, what do you have for me?” Jarrod says, bringing Ryan to attention.

He holds out his yellow pad, glancing at his notes. “‘Sexless in the City,’” he starts. Then, he raises his eyes to Jarrod. “I noticed you do a lot of segments about the best places to meet someone or how to create the most compelling Internet dating profile. You even had a few ‘Best Sex’ segments in the last few weeks on how to increase libido. I thought we could do something about the young twenty- and thirty-somethings in the city who are still virgins. Look at why they’re making the choices they are and follow them on a night out on the town. It has to be difficult, having that conversation with a potential hook-up.”

Jarrod’s head is bobbing in interest at this idea.

“It’s lame,” I say.

The room turns to me.

I look to Jarrod. “No one cares about a bunch of Bible Belt virgins saving themselves for marriage.”

Everyone in the room looks down at their notes on the table, afraid to argue with the great and powerful Heather.

Except for one person.

Of course.

“It doesn’t have to be for religious reasons. Maybe they just value their bodies,” Ryan defends. “And so what if it is about religion? We should shun them because they’re not spreading their legs for everyone?” He leans in, his words directed toward me. “Or is that what you’re supposed to do in your twenties? Screw everything that moves.”

I purse my lips. “So, you think women who go out and have one-night stands are whores?”

“I never said that.”

“You said they don’t value their bodies.”

“I said, there is something admirable about a person who wants to wait to share themselves with the one special person they plan to share their life with.”