BACHELOR NUMBER FOUR Read online

  "And loverboy decided she was the greatest thing since sliced bread and tried to hook up with her again. Too bad, so sad." Lida gave a hearty laugh and slapped her thigh. "Men can be so dumb."

  "So why not look him up now?" Gail refilled her cup.

  "Things are different now. Lots different."

  "I think you should call him." Pam nodded firmly. "Sex good enough to put a blush on your face twelve years later is good enough to look up again."

  "You know, the best sex I ever had was with the computer nerd who came to install my modem," piped up Marla in a dreamy voice. "The things that man could do with his hard drive...."

  The room exploded with laughter, and in another five minutes Arden's situation was forgotten as the women began swapping stories again. Relieved to no longer be the center of attention, Arden listened and laughed with her new-found friends, and when the party began to break up just as dawn was streaking the sky, she made her slightly bleary way down the street to her own little house and headed straight for bed.

  She paused, one hand on the newel post, her eyes going without effort toward the small closet off the kitchen she'd turned into her home office. The computer was in there, the flat screen iMac that had become her dearest friend in the months following Jason's death. She shopped online, kept in touch online, joined grief support groups, banked and rented movies online. She'd also, more than once, looked up names, addresses and telephone numbers on the 'net.

  Her bed called her--her vast, empty bed--and though her eyes drooped with weariness, the thought of sliding between sheets unwarmed by a companion did not appeal to her. The girls were with Arden's parents for the entire weekend, a treat they loved and she tolerated because she knew they loved it. Without the pull of small hands and constant childish chatter she felt more than alone. She felt lonely.

  However, Maeve and Aislin wouldn't be home until Sunday morning, more than twenty-four hours from now, and she had no plans for tomorrow other than finishing up a dress she'd been commissioned to sew. She could sleep in tomorrow. The search would only take a few minutes...

  Her feet moved before she knew it, and her fingers found the familiar grooves of the keyboard buttons. It took her two seconds to pull up her favorite search engine, to type in his name and their town, and to get a list of possible matches.

  She clicked on the first and brought up another screen with additional information on it. Not the right Shane Donner, whose middle initial, she recalled was "N" not "L." Another couple of clicks and she went through the other listings, which were incomplete. She hit the jackpot on her fourth try.

  "Bachelor Number Four," she murmured, looking at the screen.

  Shane N. Donner, owner/operator Donner's Specialty Construction. The listing gave an address, a phone number...and an email address.

  Her fingers flew over the keys, typing out a message before she could think to stop herself. Something simple, bland, non-aggressive. "Hi. How are you?"

  "Will you go with me? Yes, No, Maybe, circle one," she muttered, well-aware of how her words echoed in the empty house. "Just like in eighth grade, geez."

  She hesitated before hitting send, thought of erasing the message entirely, but again the sting of winter wind slipped across her skin and the taste of smoke and bourbon made her swipe her tongue across her lips. It had been really great sex. If it had ended somewhat sourly...well, they'd been young. It was a long time ago. And there was nothing wrong, really, with just a little note? Just to say hi to an old friend?

  Except Shane Donner had never, not exactly, been her friend. He'd been both more and less than that, an enigma, a short-term lover who'd nevertheless rocked her world, made her laugh and made her cry. A man she'd never forgotten.

  With determination, Arden clicked send. She sat back and stared at the desktop wallpaper, a montage of film clips from the Matrix film trilogy.

  "Keanu, if you're coming for me, you'd better hurry up. I don't think I can save myself for you much longer."

  Leaving him to ponder that, Arden went upstairs, let the shower wash away the smoke and booze and her tears, then she slipped into her bed to find a way to make her dreams stop being nightmares.

  * * * *

  Soft kisses whispered up Arden's thighs, toward the apex of tight curls already moist with anticipation. She shifted to let her legs slide open, to give him access to her clitoris. The moment she felt the brush of his tongue, she moaned. Loud, not even embarrassed. It felt too damn good for her to be embarrassed.

  It had been so damn long. She opened herself further, ass sliding on smooth sheets that felt like satin and, therefore, couldn't possibly be hers. It didn't matter. None of this did. In fact, it was better that nothing made sense, that the puzzle pieces didn't quite fit.

  She was dreaming, and knowing it didn't change how good it felt. The pleasure radiating upward from her center was better than anything her purple butterfly could give her. She used the vibrator out of desperation, for the times when sexual frustration overtook her and forced her to find release. But she always felt a little ridiculous doing it. The buzzing made her self-conscious.

  Now her phantom lover licked slowly at her clit, circling it with his tongue in just the way she loved. He flicked her lightly, making her body thrum with pleasure. Arden arched her back, her head moving from side to side on the slippery sheets, static crackling along the length of her unbound hair.

  A finger slipped inside her, then two, stretching. Ahh, that's so, so good. More kisses pressed her flesh, more light tongue flicks sent her surging toward orgasm. Her thighs trembled. Ecstasy coiled between her legs, tighter and tighter, until all she needed was one more kiss, one twist of her lover's hand, and she'd go over the edge.

  Unlike in real life, her dream companion was tireless and focused on her without regard to his own pleasure, and in this way the dream was also better than reality.

  But then, to her surprise and slight disappointment, the mouth between her legs left the place she needed it most and moved upward, over her belly (blessedly flat and unmarked with the scars of childbirth--this was, after all her dream) to her breasts. Her clit pulsed and throbbed. Her cunt clenched on the fingers still sliding so smoothly in and out of her. She lifted her hips and rolled them.

  The time had come to look upon her dream lover's face, to see who was bringing her such ecstasy. It was silly to worry about something like this in a dream, no matter how powerful and realistic, but Arden wanted to look into his eyes when she came.

  She tilted her head and smiled down at him as the first ripples jerked her hips and made her belly begin to jump. She expected Keanu's almond-shaped, dark eyes, or Antonio's sultry Latin stare, maybe even Ewan's insouciant twinkle to greet her. A dream man, dream lover, fiction taken directly from the night's big screen adventures into her subconscious.

  She'd even parted her lips to laugh at the choice her mind had made. What she saw instead made her gasp so loudly she heard it beyond the veil of sleep and knew her waking self had made the noise. She swam up from the dream's depths and fought waking, her orgasm so close she couldn't bear to lose it, despite the shock her mind had given her.

  "Shane!"

  His black hair fell long over his shoulders. Blue-green eyes the color of the Caribbean ocean blinked as he lifted his head from her lust-crimsoned nipples to give her the breathtaking grin she remembered so clearly from twelve years before.

  "Arden," he whispered in the same husky, rough voice she couldn't forget, "you taste like sunshine."

  And then instantly, the way it happened in dreams, his cock thrust inside her and she bore his weight on her chest, while his mouth crushed her lips and his tongue plundered her. Her body clenched and relaxed. His face faded, though the sensation of his penis sliding in and out of her lasted longer. Long enough to tilt her over the edge.

  Orgasm exploded through her, and she woke, clit and heart pounding. Had she cried out? Sweat dampened her forehead and made strands of hair cling to her cheeks. Her thighs slid