Chapter One
“Oh my God.” Calla Lansky pushed the end call button on her cell phone as her stomach dropped to her ankles. This is why you don’t play the field. Two dates in one night? What the hell am I going to do? She dug her old-fashioned day planner out of her purse, flipped to June, and scowled at her scribbled writing. She found the name “Sam” on the block for Sunday the 21st, but Nathan just called, saying he would be a little late for dinner.
She’d asked Nathan Risley a few days earlier to meet her at her favorite seafood restaurant, but forgot to write his name in the planner. She called him the previous day to verify, but he didn’t answer his phone. She always kept her planner up-to-date—her job required punctuality and professionalism—so Calla assumed she’d just imagined making plans with him. Due to her recent work-related stress, which she managed with a forced smile and a chipper attitude, she wouldn’t put it past her frazzled mind to make something up. She’d later called Sam Tomlin, and he agreed to meet her for dinner, despite the short notice.
Now, both men were on their way.
Calla gulped a long draft of her Long Island Iced Tea, her throat parched, but the cold liquid barely soothed her upset stomach. She’d arrived early at the little riverfront restaurant, and strangers surrounded her as she sat alone in the middle of a raised outdoor deck.
Calm, tranquil waves of the Cape Fear River sloshed under the dining area. Sturdy posts held up the platform. A few tourists snapped pictures of the scenic inlet as they strolled along the boardwalk that lined the river and boarded the restaurant. Soft jazz music played from small speakers hidden behind potted plants as dishes clanked and patrons chattered. Festive paper lanterns hung from clear cords around the deck. Twinkling white lights circled the banisters.
A light breeze ruffled Calla’s dark hair. Vomit burned in her throat. She swallowed hard, vowing not to spew chunks all over the fancy dishes in front of her. A glass-covered votive candle burned bright in the middle of her table, holding her gaze, and she wished she could just disappear like the flicker of a flame.
She’d graduated from college and left her hometown of Jacksonville, North Carolina six years earlier with two goals in mind: find a high-paying, respectable job, and experience mind-blowing sex as often as possible. Her cousin, top-notch accountant Melba Lansky, secured her a bookkeeping position at a prestigious law firm in downtown Wilmington, and Calla fell into a comfortable routine of work and clubbing with her friends. After a few years of fun, however, she’d grown tired of waking up in strangers’ beds. Most of the men she’d slept with—she couldn’t even remember their names now—ignored her phone calls after their one-night stands.
Not that she really cared. She didn’t want another night of mediocre sex anyway.
Calla rubbed her temples as a waitress carried a tray of fish and chips to the table behind her. Embarrassment flushed her skin like a bad rash as though the waitress and everyone else around her could hear her private thoughts. Calla blamed her hormones—and her job—for the mix-up that night, and she seriously needed her head examined for not keeping track of the ball as she played the field.
Since the partners of Patton and Patton Law Firm redesigned the bookkeeping department, she had to memorize awkward terminology, learn how to operate a few new computer programs, and update old file records into the new system. She normally met Nathan every Tuesday and Friday night, Sam every Wednesday and Saturday night, but she’d canceled their dates for the past two weeks in order to work overtime and to study a stack of instruction manuals. If she didn’t pass an upcoming test, she would likely lose her job or receive more tedious in-depth training.
I’m a fool. Calla stuffed the day planner back in her purse. It’s time I transfer everything to my phone, so I’ll never screw up like this again.
She should’ve told Nathan she needed to cancel when they spoke on the phone a few minutes earlier, but she’d panicked. Now, she called Sam, but his voicemail picked up. He was already a few minutes late, and she hoped with every ounce of her being that his car broke down on the side of the road. Okay, well, she didn’t want him hurt or in any kind of trouble, but she just hoped he didn’t show.
The scent of grease-battered fish filled her nose as she breathed deep in an effort to calm down. Her vision blurred, unshed tears in her eyes, and Calla shook her head to focus. Get out of here before it’s too late. Just stand them up and call them later. She grabbed her purse just as a blonde hostess escorted Nathan through the open double doorway to the deck.
Nathan grinned, his eyes lighting up when he saw her. His shiny black shoes, dark trousers, blazer, and blue button-down shirt seemed out of place, but the semi-casual restaurant catered to office professionals, surfer-dudes, and tourists alike.
“I’m sorry I’m late, darling.” Nathan pressed a quick kiss on Calla’s cheek and sat across from her at the table. He smiled at the hostess—Jenny, according to her nametag—as she handed him a menu. Jenny gave him a good once-over and sashayed her ass as she walked away, but Nathan didn’t seem to notice. “The Dictator stopped me just before I left the office. He wanted a mini-presentation of the new canned tuna campaign, and I couldn’t say no.”
“I thought you had until Tuesday morning to finalize the presentation.”
“That’s when I meet with the owner of Boxer’s Tuna Company, but the Dictator wanted an overview since I’m the head of the marketing campaign. It’s not my first lead project, but Mr. Boxer is one of our most profitable and well-known local clients. I can’t make a mistake. I’m canned if I do.”
Calla forced a smile. Nathan always called his boss “the Dictator,” and she suspected his boss and the uptight manager in her department should go bowling. She twisted her fingers in her cloth napkin and glanced back inside the crowded restaurant. Okay, Plan B. Sneak out the restroom window. Nathan probably won’t realize I ditched him until I’m long gone, but knowing my luck, I’ll probably run into Sam in the parking lot. She clenched the napkin tighter, deciding to risk it.
“Are you all right?” A frown creased Nathan’s forehead. “You look ready to jump out of your skin.”
She nodded. “I’m just a little tense. I’ve been so busy with work and—”
“And you called me.” He laid the menu by his place setting. “I meant to return your call, but it slipped my mind. Did you want to cancel? We could just have drinks and head back to your place if you’re not up for dinner. I’m sure I can find a way to relax you.” He waggled his eyebrows as a little smirk crawled up his lips.
Heat flushed her cheeks. “I don’t think that will help.” Calla glanced back over his head and blanched as the hostess guided Sam through the busy interior and toward the outdoor deck. A wave of nausea struck Calla’s stomach like a gale wind. Spots dotted her vision as she looked away, and the clank and clatter of dishes screeched in her ears.
Nathan grasped her clammy palm and snapped his fingers in front of her face. “Calla? Are you all right? You look sick.”
His deep, concerned voice seeped through the chaos in her mind. She withdrew her hand from his and stared back up as the hostess and Sam reached her table.
Sam flashed a sexy grin and bent down to kiss the same cheek Nathan kissed. Then he frowned at her other date.
“Are you expecting two gentlemen?” Jenny lifted her eyebrow as though she realized Calla’s mistake. Instead of a smile of female camaraderie, a bitchy smirk stretched her lips.
Calla wanted to smack it off, but nodded to avoid a few nights in jail, an assault charge, and the loss of her career.
Jenny called for two servers across the deck, and the young men brought a third chair and another place setting to the table.
Fine lines branched out from the corners of Sam’s ocean-blue eyes as he sat down. Jenny handed him a menu, and like Nathan, he ignored her shaking ass as she walked away.
The men stared at each other for a brief moment before they turned to Calla.
“We never agreed to be exclusive.” Calla flattened her palms on the table and pushed down to keep herself seated. Her throat clogged, her heart pounding like a sailor’s in the middle of a storm. Heat slicked her skin. She swallowed hard, soothing her high-pitched voice. “I’m new to the game. I’ve dated both of you for the past few months, and I’ll bet every cent in my bank account you guys have played the field too.”
She bit her lip as Nathan’s eyes widened. Okay, Calla. Calm down. Don’t act so defensive. She rolled her eyes at herself and didn’t care her dates watched her every move. Why the hell am I telling them the truth? That can’t be in the freakin’ handbook.
Calla held up her hand as Sam opened his mouth, likely to cuss her out. “I’m sorry, but I forgot who I invited to dinner first. I feel like my mind went on vacation and left me here in a mess. I just wanted one night of peace and relaxation. I never meant to schedule you guys at the same time, and I’m so sorry. You have no idea how sorry and how embarrassed I am right now.”
Nathan sat straighter in his chair, his short dark hair a little messy as though he’d tunneled his fingers through it after work. Now, he loosened the striped black-and-blue tie around his neck, his fingers plucking hard at the long strip of fabric.
Sam crossed his arms over his chest, cocking his head to the side. His casual blazer hung open, and his pale-green polo shirt clung to his abs. Sand caked the hem of his wrinkled beige slacks. He tapped his foot, his brown loafers clean.
Calla fidgeted with the beads on her halter dress, waiting for her lovers to call her a whore. She diverted her gaze to the nearest banister that protected patrons and employees from the deep river.
Dark waves sloshed harder under the deck as a small yacht passed by, traveling down the river that opened into the Atlantic Ocean near Bald Head Island. Shades of red, purple, and blue streaked the evening sky as lights from various buildings and ships shone in every direction.
Sam laughed, and Calla’s attention jumped to him. “Don’t faint, sweetheart. It’s not like you killed someone, and you want us to help hide the body.” His eyes twinkled in the candlelight, and his chin-length auburn hair glinted with an array of reddish-brown highlights. “We’re not exclusive, as you eloquently stated, so you did nothing wrong in my book.”
Nathan arched his eyebrow as he stared at Sam, and then he coughed as though to find his voice. “He’s right. We’re just fooling around, Calla. It’s not like we planned to get married.” He slouched a little in the chair. Tension radiated around him as though in contradiction to his words.
Calla’s mouth slacked. “C’mon, guys. Be real. Why haven’t you called me names and stormed out?”
“Why would I do that?” Nathan narrowed his eyes. “I could give you pointers in ‘playing the field,’ but I’m not mad. I’m shocked, but I have no right to chastise you since I have another chick on speed dial. Can’t speak so much for…” Nathan swished his hand toward her other date, and Sam introduced himself. The men shook hands. “What about you, Sam?”
Sam glanced down at his left hand, and a small frown tightened his lips. “My wife and I separated almost nine months ago. She cheated, then I cheated, and it’s a huge mess. I’ve dated a few women after I signed the separation papers, but Calla is the only one at the moment.” He moved his hand under the table.
Calla doubted he wanted to tell Nathan about his failed marriage. Sam still loved his wife, and Calla believed he would do almost anything to win her back.
“Now, I’d be pissed if we were in a serious relationship and not just testing the water,” Sam continued after a brief pause. “I agree with Nathan. I’m shocked, but we’re all adults.”
Relief poured through her. Calla sipped her drink and watched her dates above the rim of her glass. Sam’s easy-going body language and Nathan’s kind smile calmed her thumping heart, but she needed a few ultra-strength aspirin or maybe even roofies to soothe her raw, severed nerves. “Thank you. You guys are more understanding than I expected.” She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. As a waiter arrived at the table, heat flushed her face again.
“Perhaps one of us should go?” Sam directed at Nathan, but neither man stood to leave.
“Why don’t you both stay? I’m sure we can find something to talk about.” Calla clasped her hands together in her lap, the blood in her veins flaring hot until her dates agreed.
After the waiter left with three entrée orders and drink requests, conversation flourished between the men, but Calla stayed silent. She already knew Nathan and Sam had attended the same university at the same time, and while they shared many of the same friends, they’d never met. A little hostility spiked between them as Nathan said he worked in the marketing department for Kanigher Advertising Inc.—Sam worked as a staff photographer for a rival ad company, Grell Multimedia Group—but they changed the subject and the tension eased.
Calla never compared her lovers until now. Nathan—dark, brooding, and a number one hottie—rocked her world as only a bad boy in a fine tailored suit could. Sam—free-spirited, artsy, and just as handsome—knew his way around her body with his eyes closed.
She’d met Nathan about six months earlier at a New Years’ Eve party, and he told her on their first date he didn’t want to settle down anytime soon. Calla met Sam two months later through a work colleague and considered him a “friend with benefits,” not potential spouse material. Even though the men treated her with respect, they likely considered her just another notch in their bedpost.
That suits me just fine. I need a few more notches in my bedpost, too, before a ring circles my finger. Calla laughed, almost strangling on a bite of grilled salmon as a dirty thought crossed her mind. She forced the food down her throat and chased it with her drink.
“You okay? What’s so funny?” Nathan forked a popcorn shrimp into his mouth. “You only giggle like that when your mind is in the gutter.”
“She crinkles her nose too.” Sam chuckled as Calla covered her twitching nose with her palm. “C’mon, babe. There’s no need to act shy after everything that already happened.” He tugged on her forearm until she dropped her hand.
“Okay, just hear me out.” Calla tapped her feet, drumming her hands on her knees to gather her courage. Then she leaned forward and braced her elbows on the tabletop. The neckline of her dress dipped, revealing a generous amount of cleavage. “I have a silly little fantasy. I’ve always wanted to have a threesome with two hot men who would tease and play with me for hours. Are you interested?” Hope filled her chest, but then Nathan’s mouth dropped open and Sam’s eyes bugged out as though she stood up and stripped naked in the restaurant. She swished her hand in the air. “It’s crazy, I know, and you aren’t into it. I understand. Never mind.”
Calla grabbed her glass and drunk heavily of the delicious nectar. The heat of their stares burned her like the noonday sun, and she summoned all her willpower to look up and meet their derision head-on. Instead, they grinned at her like two horny men who just found the key to the Playboy Mansion.
“I’ll oblige if Sam is up for it.” Nathan leaned back in a comfortable, confident pose. “You know me. I’ll try anything once.”
Sam shrugged his shoulders, but the carefree motion belied the heat in his eyes. “Hell, yeah. I just hope you can handle two men at once, Calla.” A wicked grin curled his lips.
She couldn’t believe her luck. “Let’s head back to my place. We can—”
“Your apartment is clear across the city. I can’t wait that long.” Nathan glanced out over the river toward a strip of sky rise buildings. “We need a hotel room.”
“What about a rental house down on Wrightsville Beach? It’s a few minutes away from here.” Sam pulled a plastic tab from his blazer pocket, and a single key dangled on the ring. “I photographed half a dozen models this morning for a client’s new swimsuit ad, and I don’t have to return the key to the realtor until tomorrow. I planned to take you back there tonight, Calla.”
Nathan tossed his napkin down on his empty plate. “Not fair, man. I have to come up with a catchy ad campaign about damned tuna fish, and you get to watch beach babes roll around in the sand.”
Sam grinned. “Gotta love the perks.”
“All right, boys. I’m still right here.” Calla crossed her arms in feigned annoyance, but their banter amused her. “I hope you don’t expect me to prance around in a bikini. Maybe a one-piece, but I’m not model-thin or as tan as the hostess who keeps eye-fucking you two.” She nodded at Jenny as the woman led an elderly couple to a recently vacated table across the deck. Jealousy bubbled in the pit of Calla’s stomach as the hostess once again smiled and batted her mascara-thick eyelashes at her dates.
“Oh, I noticed her.” Nathan tilted his head toward Jenny, but he didn’t glance at her. “She’s pretty, but too damn skinny. I prefer women with curves and breasts like yours.”
“Yeah, don’t worry about her. She can look all she wants, but you’re the one who will do the dirty with us.” Sam’s gaze dropped to her plunging neckline. “You fill out skintight dresses like Marilyn Monroe did, and I’d love to peel off the flirty little number you have on now. I’ve needed release all day, Calla, and I bet Nathan feels the same just by looking at you.”
Moisture slicked her inner folds. As Nathan signaled their waiter for the check, she licked her dry lips in anticipation. “I’ll take care of the bill and the tip. It’s the least I can do after my mix-up tonight.”
Nathan scowled. “I don’t think so. Sam and I can split the check.”
“Sounds good to me.” Sam pulled his wallet from his pants pocket.
They parted ways in the parking lot, and Calla breathed in relief once she settled down in the driver’s seat and grasped the leather steering wheel of her car. She followed Sam as he led the way to the rental property, and Nathan blocked her in with his slick silver sedan. “You can do this, Calla. Nathan and Sam don’t hate you. Have fun and enjoy tonight. Don’t think too much or overanalyze everything. Deal with the consequences, if there are any, in the morning.” She spoke aloud as she summoned her courage to go through with her fantasy.
After a few more turns down long, brightly lit roads, she pulled into a darkened driveway and killed the engine. A deep sigh burned through her lungs as she stared up at the two-story beach house through the front windshield. Her courage vanished, her throat tight. Oh, dear. What did I get myself into?
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