Five Minute Man: A Contemporary Love Story Read online

  Christ, no wonder modern women were so empowered.

  His manhood suffering a mortal blow, he was just about to slide out of the booth and go home to lick his imagined wounds when he heard something that had the blood freezing in his veins.

  “Hey, did you catch that guy sitting right behind us when we came in?” Liz asked, lowering her voice slightly.

  Holly swirled a piece of broccoli around in the buttery cheese sauce that had pooled beneath the chicken. “No. Why?”

  Liz shook her head sadly. “No wonder you can’t get any, Holly. The guy was totally hot.”

  Holly leaned over in interest. “Do tell.”

  “Around our age. Dark brown hair. Gorgeous icy blue eyes – kind of like Ian Somerhalder’s – but more, I don’t know – intense. And not as pretty – a little rough around the edges, if you know what I mean. Clean shaven, but with a sexy shadow around his jaw. Big broad shoulders, muscular arms and chest. Couldn’t see any lower, though,” Liz said, her disappointment evident. “The table was blocking the good stuff.”

  Adam nearly swallowed his tongue. Thank God he hadn’t been drinking or eating anything at the time.

  “Damn. Think he’s still here?”

  “I doubt it. He was by himself, and we’ve been here for hours.”

  Holly sighed deeply. “Figures. If he’s really as good-looking as you say, he might have made a good muse. I’m completely stuck on my latest alpha male. I need some inspiration.”

  “Sorry, I should have said something sooner. Hey, I think that cute waiter kid was talking to him earlier. Maybe he knows who he is. I could ask.”

  “Nah, don’t bother. He already thinks we’re nuts, and I have no desire to publicly broadcast my patheticism.”

  “Is patheticism a real word?”

  “It is now. I’m an author. I can do that.” Holly slid out of the booth. “Pay the check while I hit the ladies room. I’ll never make it home without peeing my pants. With my luck I’ll get stuck behind an accident or something and wet myself. And here – “ Holly dropped a couple of bills onto the table. “Add this on to the kid’s tip, will you? He’s the only one besides you who’s smiled at me all week.”

  ***

  Adam sat back in the corner of his booth seat as the petite brunette walked by, but she didn’t even look his way. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed. He couldn’t help but appreciate the sweet curve of her ass, though, or the way her hair hung in loose, natural waves halfway down her back.

  “Brandon,” he heard the other woman whisper behind him. For once Adam was profoundly grateful for his acute auditory senses.

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “God, do you have to call me ma’am? I’m not that old, you know. Anyway, do you happen to know the guy who was sitting behind us when we came in? You were talking to him before.”

  “Yeah. He’s my uncle.” Adam cursed beneath his breath and considered changing the locks to his house before Brandon finished his shift. Emergency locksmith service was expensive, but it would be worth it.

  “Does he live around here?”

  “He does.”

  Adam pulled out his phone and started Googling local locksmiths.

  “Is he married?”

  “No.” Adam scrolled through his choices.

  “Do you see him often?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Could you, I mean, would you, give him this?” Adam paused, his curiosity getting the better of him for a brief moment. What was she giving him? A card? A number?

  “Will you be there?” Not a card or a number, an event of some sort.

  “Yes.”

  “Then I will definitely pass this along.” Adam stared at his phone, his finger poised over the call icon. Shit, if he called the locksmith now, the woman would hear his voice and realize he was still here. He’d have to wait until he got outside.

  When Brandon walked away to ring up their check, Adam left enough to cover his bill and tip on the table and slipped quietly out of the booth, heading for the exit. This evening had been entertaining, but now he felt the urgent need to flee. He did not want to be sitting there when the women left. The blonde might try to talk to him, maybe ask him out, and he’d panic. He never knew what to say when that happened. He didn’t want to be rude, but he just didn’t like when a woman took the initiative. Yeah, it was stupid as all hell, but he was an old-fashioned kind of guy. Flirting was okay – that’s how he knew a woman was interested – but if there was going to be any asking, he wanted to be the one doing it.

  Keeping his eyes focused on the Exit signs, he rounded the corner and felt an instant impact from his chest down. He looked down just in time to see the little brunette falling backwards onto her cute little ass.

  “Ah, fucking A,” she murmured before she could help herself, wincing as she started to pull herself up.

  The words were so shocking coming out of that pretty little mouth that for a moment, Adam was too stunned to say anything. By the time he held out his hand and opened his mouth to apologize, she was already on her feet.

  “Sorry about that,” she said. Her voice was back to being low-pitched and musical, but her eyes were calling him all sorts of nasty names.

  “Totally my fault,” he managed, his throat suddenly dry. God, she was cute. Big green eyes, pert little nose. Little or no makeup, naturally pretty. “Are you hurt?” He reached out to steady her, but she stepped back in a clear message.

  “No, just my pride. And my ass.”

  She zipped around him, her cheeks a lovely shade of rose, not looking back and not slowing her pace until she dropped into the booth across from Liz. Then she put her elbows on the table and covered her face with both hands.

  “Tell me you did not just have hot bathroom wall sex,” Liz said with equal parts worry and hope, eyeing her friend’s bright red face and look of total mortification.

  “No,” Holly mumbled from beneath her hands. “I was zoning out and just face planted in a guy’s chest.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad. Was he good looking?”

  “Yes,” Holly moaned. “Insanely. At least from my view on the floor.”

  Liz covered her mouth with her hand to hide her grin. “Oh, Holly, you didn’t.”

  “Yeah,” Holly replied with a rueful grin. “Princess Grace strikes again. The guy was so freaking hard I bounced right off his chest and landed on my ass. Then I went all über-classy on him and uttered a few colorful expletives.”

  “Oh, Holly.” Liz was doing her best to be sympathetic, but it was kind of difficult when she was trying so hard not to laugh.

  Chapter 5

  Adam looked at the half-page flyer on pale blue paper taped to the toilet seat and sighed. It was wrinkled and smudged, probably from the last several times he’d crumpled it up and thrown it away. First when he found it tacked up on the refrigerator, then on the TV, then on the inside of the front door. Brandon must have been pulling it out of the trash. Damn, but the kid was like a dog with a bone.

  Cursing, he ripped it off the toilet. He had half a mind to rip the thing into little pieces, drop them into the bowl and piss on them, then leave them there for Brandon to fish out. Let him try to piece that back together.

  Common sense and a temperamental septic system won out over his irritation, and he simply folded the flyer and stuffed it into his pocket. He was going to have a little talk with his nephew later and explain in a calm and mature manner that he did not need his nephew’s not-so-subtle matchmaking attempts.

  It wasn’t like Adam wasn’t interested, but the thought that the blonde had pushed the flyer at the kid bothered him. He’d learned the hard way that the chances of hitting it off with a woman forward enough to do something like that weren’t good. And he was past the go out and have a good time anyway stage, had been for a long time.

  Adam sighed, realizing he’d be wasting his breath. When he’d been Brandon’s age, he wouldn’t have understood either. How could you explain to a twen
ty year old that sex wasn’t enough after a while? That what he wanted most was what he was most unlikely to find – a woman who satisfied his mind and heart as well as his cock (though to be fair, the sex would have to be pretty good, too). Someone who could just as easily sit in comfortable silence as hold a decent conversation. Someone intelligent and thoughtful, independent yet retaining an air of innocence. Someone who could live with his old-fashioned, caveman-like mentality without being a doormat.

  Someone who, quite probably, didn’t exist.

  It wasn’t as if he hadn’t looked. He didn’t have his brother’s movie star looks, but Adam was a good-looking enough guy and had a decent, well-paying job. Had more than his share of dates and hook-ups. And while he had some good times, none of them ever came close to his ideal.

  The blonde at the restaurant seemed nice enough, and she had shown interest. If he did go to this book signing thing, she’d probably be amenable to coffee, then dinner, maybe even sex. And it would be pleasant. Enjoyable, even. But he already knew that’s all it would be, because she just didn’t do it for him.

  Now that little brunette – she was a different story. She had a voice that stroked him in all the right places, a husky little laugh that made his dick hard and his balls clench. And when she’d run all those soft, lush curves into him and looked up at him with those big green eyes, he’d had the sudden urge to throw her over his shoulder and take her out to his truck like the Neanderthal he was.

  Even now, he couldn’t seem to go five minutes without thinking about her.

  Holly, that’s what the blonde called her. Adam wondered if she would be at the book signing, too, then decided it didn’t matter, because he wasn’t going.

  ***

  Holly’s fingers flew over the keyboard. The visions and words in her head were coming so fast it was hard to keep up. Rather than write complete sentences, she just jotted down phrases and words – enough to get the gist and flow – before she forgot them. She’d come back and fill in the details later.

  Three days. Three days of absolute gold and enough imagined fantasies to finish her alpha-male novel and spawn the continuing storyline through a few sequels. All Holly had to do was close her eyes for a moment and picture the guy from the restaurant and the ideas came to her.

  Tall. Broad. Muscular. Too rugged to ever be called pretty. He was the epitome of her perfect alpha, at least in looks. Thank God he hadn’t said more than a few words and ruined it all. As it was, he had said just enough to hear the deep, baritone rumble and fuel the fantasy. Change the length of his hair and imagine that body in different clothing and he could fit into any genre – historical (Highlander), military (SEAL or Ranger), paranormal (shifter), or contemporary (himself).

  At any given time Holly had six to ten stories in various stages of development, encompassing a wide range of genres from historical to paranormal to alpha-SEAL. What she chose to work on depended on her mood of the day, as well as her level of sexual frustration. Ever since Tuesday night, she’d been ... inspired.

  Granted, it had been embarrassing as hell at the time, running into him like that and landing on the floor. But hey, if it got results like this, she might have to start scoping out various places and deliberately staging a few such “accidents”.

  Or better yet, maybe she could just stalk the restaurant guy. She probably wouldn’t even have to instigate another embarrassing physical encounter; simply observing from afar would be enough to spawn a few ideas. With that dark hair, pale blue eyes, sculpted features and hard body, the man was made for sweaty, erotic fantasies.

  He had to have been the guy Liz spotted in the booth behind them, and boy, she hadn’t been exaggerating when she said he was hot. Not in a polished, pretty boy sort of way, though. There was something inherently male about him, something that made all of Holly’s girlie parts sit up and shout a great big “hey, howdy”.

  Smelling of clean male soap and deodorant, a bit of stubble around his strong jaw, and a deep, slightly husky voice that Holly couldn’t seem to get out of her mind, he was the perfect muse.

  The only bad thing was, Liz seemed kind of interested in him. She hadn’t come right out and say so, but she had admitted to pumping the server for info and passing along a flyer for the book signing they were going to in a few days.

  Holly sighed and absently petted Max with her foot beneath the table. If Liz was interested, she didn’t stand a chance. Most men took one look at Liz and started acting like lovesick puppies. They never looked at Holly, not unless Liz shot them down and they were forced to troll elsewhere. It was one of the main reasons Holly never went anywhere with Liz except to their girls-only weekly dinners.

  Liz was her bestie, her BFF - her only true friend, really – but Holly’s decided lack of people skills and fragile ego couldn’t take the rejection she’d inevitably face at Liz’s side. Besides, her dignity wouldn’t permit her to knowingly be someone’s second choice.

  It was for the best, really. For the first time in her life, Holly felt truly at peace. She had her own place, did her own thing. Her life was all about what she wanted, what made her happy.

  Holly once again said her daily prayer of thanks to her late great aunt, whose bequeathal had allowed her to purchase this little cottage and move out of her hometown for good. Great Aunt Rose had been the only one who ever understood Holly’s love of books, of reading and writing and getting lost in a really great story. The only one who had ever encouraged her to follow her dream.

  With the exception of Liz, no one else got it. Both of her sisters – one older and one younger – were blessed with social skills and thought her preference for spending the day holed up in her room with a book was weird. And both of her brothers – one older and one younger - thought everything about her was weird. Her parents – well, they were just disappointed. Disappointed that she’d hit the big 3-0 and still wasn’t married, still had no kids. Disappointed that she’d quit her job as a software engineer to write romance novels, of all things. Disappointed that she didn’t even tell them she was moving out of town until after the ink was already dry.

  It had to be that way, though. If they’d known about her plans to buy this place, to move out and start living her life the way she wanted to, they would have held an intervention. Deep down, they meant well, but they just didn’t (or couldn’t) seem understand her desire to live alone, or spend her life doing what she loved. That sort of thing was reserved for spinsterly types. Or lesbians.

  At the moment, she was neither. Despite the lack of male (human) companionship, she was still a twigs and berries kind of girl, though if things kept going the way they were, spinsterhood was looking increasingly likely.

  She had Max, though, and he was her saving grace. Spinsterly old women had cats or parakeets, not dogs. She reminded herself of this known and scientifically proven fact almost daily.

  It wasn’t always easy, but Holly loved her little fixer-upper cottage, one of the last remaining outbuildings on what once had been a palatial estate belonging to William Penn, for whom the Commonwealth (not state!) of Pennsylvania was named. She loved having the freedom to stay in her PJ’s all day long if she wanted to. And she loved the fact that what little she had was hers and hers alone, and she didn’t have to share with bitchy older siblings, annoying younger ones, or – the worst of all possible creatures – roommates.

  She’d had enough of them to last a lifetime. First at home, sharing a room with her sisters. Then at the state university, where she’d been paired with a girl who’s biggest college achievement was being selected as a little sister in one of the nastiest frats on campus (really, if you were into that whole brotherhood/sisterhood thing, why not at least go for a sorority?) And, of course, the coup de grace – her disappointing attempts to find a compatible, mature young adult to share an apartment in town.

  If there’s one thing that Holly had learned about herself over the years, it was that she didn’t like having roommates.

  No matter h
ow much you thought you knew someone, or how good of a first impression they made, all that was shot to shit when you moved in together. In her experience, the quiet, shy ones turned out to be noisy and annoying, especially when you were trying to do something that required peace and quiet – like reading, or writing – the two things Holly loved to do most. The perfectly coiffed debs were actually pigs behind closed doors, and the steadfast and loyal types often proved untrustworthy in the end, stiffing her for rent, horking her food.

  The absolute worst thing about roommates? It wasn’t sharing a kitchen or microscopic living room, but a communal bathroom. Holly had yet to find anyone aware of, much less a devout practitioner of, the ass-tag convention. Her last cohabiter actually had the nerve to look at her like she was crazy for having even brought it up. As if getting out of the shower and wanting to know that you could dry your face without having to worry if the same towel had just dried someone’s ass was a bad thing!

  Honestly. And they thought she was the weird one.

  Hannah sat back and re-read the last few paragraphs, her face flushing and her body heating from the latest in a series of some really hot scenes.

  Her alpha muse would just have to remain in her deepest, darkest fantasies, she decided, only coming to life on the pages of her stories and her dreams. Who needed the real thing when she had a writer’s imagination and Vinny?

  Chapter 6

  Sunday dawned clear and bright, a perfect early summer day, ideal for doing a few minor repairs around the house. There were some shingles that had blown loose in that last Nor’easter. The rotting step on the back porch. And he’d been meaning to replace that leaky faucet in the kitchen for months now.

  Unfortunately, he didn’t have the supplies he needed on hand. It was a damn good thing that a Lowe’s opened up in that new shopping center down in Covendale and he’d be able to drive in and pick it up all in one shot; he wouldn’t have to waste daylight running all over the county.