Chapter 2
The scent of her permeated his pores, sinking in and taking up residence in the place he never let anyone approach. Smiling against an exterior that rarely saw joy, Michael rolled over in the bed he'd shared with an angel and opened his eyes. Evidence of her was everywhere; the discarded take-out boxes telling of her voracious appetite, and ability to go straight again afterwards, the red camisole that she'd covered herself with to sleep, as if modesty had any place between them by then. He shook his head as he stood from the bed and reached out to finger the red silk she'd left behind. Realization that it was the only thing of hers remaining in the room hit him hard and fast.
Cursing beneath his breath as he crumpled the silk in his fist, he tossed it against the bed and ran a restless hand through his already wild hair. What had he expected? To wake up and find her running a bath for them to share?
Against his better judgment, he walked to the bathroom adjoining their room and pushed open the door. It was vacant, of course it was vacant, he'd known it would be and as he felt the loss of her for the second time he cursed again.
"Damn."
He tried to laugh at himself as he stepped back into the hotel room and took a hard look around. Scattered clothing littered the furniture, his jeans over the back of a chair, his boots separated in opposing corners of the room. He couldn't remember being so anxious to get undressed, but then he supposed she just had that affect on him. Still, kicking off Doc Martens without untying the laces? That was hardly like him, and… was that his leather jacket tossed over the lamp?
Walking over to rescue the heated leather, a new smell wafted through the chilling room—the musky odor of sweat and sex confirming a union born solely of passion. A fling, a one-night stand, a meaningless romp, call it what you wanted, it all amounted to one thing—he'd picked up a girl in a bar and fucked her.
Looking down at his tattered underwear barely hanging onto one hip, he grimaced as he realized that it was actually her who had fucked him.
~*~*~*~*~*~
"Here you are Mr. Guerin. You'll be boarding at Gate 126 at nine o'clock."
Thanking the attendant as she pushed his new ticket across the counter, Michael painted a smile on his face as he groaned inwardly and turned away to find his departure gate. Last night he'd been on a direct flight to Dallas, all set to land at eight, be home by nine, and have the better part of a six-pack polished off before eleven. Now it was a day later and he was on the 9:25 to Dallas via Chicago, adding three hours to his trip and immeasurable annoyance to his already stressed temper.
The past two weeks had been spent on the road, scouting basketball players at Canadian universities before they broke for Christmas. His job description meant he didn't have to impress any of his clients; they had to impress him, at least the ones that weren't obvious followers to Michael Jordan's legacy. The result was a complete absence of alone time while he was wined, dined, and very often nearly bribed to write a player's name down in the little black book he would carry back to his boss at the Dallas Mavericks. The immeasurable success of Steve Nash for their team meant that the Canadian boys always thought they had a better chance with him and it was up to Michael to burst their greed-filled bubbles.
The entire experience left him feeling like he'd received a mental blow-job with every meeting, then he'd capped off the perfect trip with a very real one in the Sheraton Toronto Hotel. She was by far the best new player he'd come across in his travels but he wasn't naïve enough to believe she was ready to sign on with him full-time.
Running a hand through his hair, he shifted his bag against his shoulder and walked towards the hanging flat-screen monitors displaying the status of all flights. He was just wondering if he had to look for a flight destined for Chicago or Dallas when the tingle of laughter wafted into his ear and he stopped.
She was standing before the screens, an absent hand flipping her hair in a gesture he'd already grown fond of. Pausing for a moment, he smiled as he moved to approach her, reaching into his pocket to grasp the reminder she'd left in his room. He was no more than twenty feet away when he saw her first glance up at the screen, then down at her ticket, and finally turn into the waiting arms of another man.
Oblivious to her observer, Maria checked her newly issued ticket against the overhead screen displaying flight departures.
AC874 Chicago 09:25 Gate 126
Finding her flight, she repeated the information she sought beneath her breath. "Gate 126, gate 126, gate 126…"
"Hey darlin', you afraid you gonna get lost or something?"
Turning, she looked up in surprise as a man's voice interrupted her. She grinned when she recognized him, throwing her arms around his neck without hesitation.
"Will!"
"Aspirin lady."
"I told you not to call me that."
"And I told you not to call me Will."
Blushing, she bowed her head as she shrank away from him. "Are we back to real names now?"
"I don't know; did everything work out last night?"
Her lip flipped beneath her top teeth, the light chewing giving away her immediate nervousness.
"Hey," he said softly, reaching a hand out to caress her face. "It's okay, really. This is what I wanted, right?"
She smiled as she nodded and looked up at him through tear-glazed eyes. "You aren't mad?"
"How could I ever be mad?"
"Thank you," she murmured, closing her eyes as she waited for him to accept her back into his life.
Flooded with nothing but pride for the woman before him, Will leaned in to capture her mouth with his. He knew she never would have picked up that guy last night if he hadn't encouraged her; but it was the right thing to do, and he was glad she'd decided to go through with it. Besides, that Guerin character wasn't half bad looking anyway, maybe it would all turn out okay in the end.
Across the airport, Michael stopped mid-stride as he saw her lock lips with the bartender from the night before. Eyes tightening as he watched her complete lack of objection to the amorous advances, he gripped his bag and turned away from the violent scene. His stomach lurched as he realized she was only hours out of his bed and already readying for another quick lay. Shaking his head at how stupid he'd been to believe she actually felt for him, he pushed his body towards the security gate, intent on not spoiling her traitorous moment.
Breaking the kiss, Maria felt a slight chill course through her body, causing her to shiver as she glanced around the crowded concourse.
"What is it?" the man in her arms asked lightly.
"Nothing," she said absently, seeing no one she recognized in the faceless mass. Turning back, she pushed the haunting thought of someone watching her aside and leaned closer against the chest of her companion. "Think I can have my ring back now?"
"Of course babe," he replied quickly as he reached into his pocket. Pulling out a small ring box, he opened it to reveal a matched set of wedding and engagement rings. His left hand flipped over unconsciously as he extracted them, revealing the same white gold band encircling his own finger as he slipped her rings back into their rightful place.
Running his thumb over the symbol of his rightful ownership of the woman in his arms, Will grinned and pulled her hand into his. "How does it feel to be Mrs. William Darden again?"
"Call me Mrs. Billy Darden, baby; it has a better ring."
Smiling at her husband, she let him grab the handle of her suitcase as they walked hand in hand towards gate 126.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael plunked his bag down on an empty waiting room seat and slammed his body into the neighboring chair. The seemingly soft blue padding that cushioned the seating device was deceptively thin and he swore as solid steel jarred his bones.
Restless as he leaned back against the hard support, he threw his body forward again to rest elbows on knees before moving back again to swing one foot up on his other leg. He only had 20 minutes to waste before he would board his plane yet the relief of flying away from the disaster zone was little comfort as his mind insisted on replaying the sight of her throwing herself at the enemy.
Running a rough thumb across his eyes to physically force the sight away, he paused with his hand forcing darkness on his world to drift even further into the clutches of her memory. The vision of her moaning his name as her back arched from the bed and she scratched her claim onto his shoulders was indelibly printed on his brain and he knew no amount of force would erase the experience.
Especially not when he still saw it with eyes open.
Blinking as he removed his hand to see her standing before him, he used both fists to scratch at the taunting until he was sure he'd won out and opened his eyes cautiously.
No… still there.
Shifting lower in his seat, he watched as she held the bastard's hand and pranced towards the departure gate. Eyes he wished he still controlled followed her suicidally, stopping only when he saw her point at the screen, then back at her ticket and turn to smile at the man beside her.
She was getting on this plane.
She was getting on his plane.
What was that he said about being a goner?
Sinking lower behind his bag, he watched for a moment longer as the filthy scumbag nuzzled her neck then sat her in a waiting chair and headed off towards what Michael hoped was a sheer cliff drop off. Will was no more than ten feet away when he bounded to his feet and headed towards her.
"Thought you weren't given to PDAs?" he said softly as he took an empty seat beside her.
"Wha… Michael!" she hissed, shifting her eyes to follow her husband as he strolled into the crowd. "What are you doing here?"
"Me? Oh I thought I'd catch a show before my flight. You should see it, it's called 'The Art of Picking Up an Idiot' starring Maria Deluca. She's really good, might get the Oscar."
"Stop it," Maria snapped quickly, ensuring that Billy was concealed by the waiting passengers before she gave Michael her complete attention. "What did you expect me to do, stay for breakfast?"
"I expected you to say goodbye," he answered truthfully, staring down at the icy clump gracing her finger. He would bet money that she hadn't worn that particular accessory last night.
"I did say goodbye," she murmured, turning to sit back against her seat. "You just weren't awake."
"I would have got up for you."
"Yeah, and I would have stayed all morning if you did. It's better this way."
"Why?"
She sighed. "You know why?"
"Because of him? The fucking… bartender?"
"That fucking bartender is my husband Michael, or haven't you noticed."
"Oh I noticed alright, the rock on your finger was a little small but I managed to find it."
"Nice. Your maturity astounds me."
"Come off it. You think it's mature to fuck me and then run back to him? How can you even stomach it?"
"Because I don't have a choice," she said softly as she closed her eyes.
"That's where you're wrong," he replied, leaning over to whisper in her ear as she clenched her eyes tighter. "There's always a choice."
Maria pressed her lips together as a sob she thought she'd successfully banned threatened to swell from her depths. Shaking her head slightly as she weighed the thought of her husband off scouring the airport lounge against the heady scent of her newfound lover beside her, she wondered how she ever thought the choice had to be hard and swallowed heavily.
"Maybe I just needed a little push to make it."
Opening her eyes, she peeked slowly to her side, expecting Michael to take some joy in her declaration. Instead she frowned as she saw only an empty chair by her side, the leather-clad man she'd sealed her fate with swallowed up by the crowd pressing ever closer.