LITMIR.BIZ

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opened his eyes. The space next to him in bed was empty. No Melanie.

      Damn it. He’d dreamed about spending a night with her many times—plenty while he was awake. This time he’d swear their being together had really happened. Hadn’t it?

      He rubbed his forehead, trying to clear his fuzzy brain. On the one hand nothing could be less likely. He’d known Melanie two years and been in love with her for both of them. In all that time she’d never given him more than a sisterly glance. So for her to jump into his bed out of the blue and seduce him made about as much sense as conservatives voting for huge tax hikes.

      Except…last week sitting with Melanie on the couch in this apartment, right before Stoner had walked in and made Melanie’s jaw go slack, just before that, she’d been saying something about wanting to date a different type of guy, giving Edgar real hope for the first time.

      Maybe he wasn’t crazy?

      He had to be crazy.

      He blinked, struggled up, then on impulse leaned down to inhale over the pillow she’d used to see if traces of her scent lingered.

      Yes. Oh, my God, yes. He was instantly hard again. She’d really been here. His most potent sexual fantasy and his deepest emotional fantasy—both came true in one mind-blowing unexpected night.

      But how? Why?

      Maybe she was still here? Eating breakfast? Using the bathroom? Watching TV? He got out of bed, stepped into a pair of gray boxers and walked through the apartment. Stoner hadn’t come home. What a gratifying non-surprise. Last night Edgar had dutifully been getting ready to bunk down in the sofa bed when he’d realized that if Stoner followed his usual pattern after a night out with his band, he wouldn’t be back until morning. Damned if Edgar would spend another lumpy, restless night while his comfortable queen-size bed lay empty.

      He finished his rounds. No Melanie, not that he really expected she’d still be here. But also no note. No messages. No “Thanks for last night, it was the best time of my entire life. Call me ASAP. I love you. Melanie.”

      Right.

      His heart sank. The queen of the one-nighters had bolted.

      Except she had to know by now how he felt about her. He’d dropped plenty of hints, even made up a girlfriend, Emma, so Melanie would feel more at ease with him. Amazing how close a skittish woman would let a guy get when there was no threat of a relationship developing. And amazing what that guy could get away with saying to said skittish woman when he was supposedly safely attached. Edgar had said it all.

      She had to know. Especially once she found out Emma wasn’t real. She’d have put it together. And there was no way Melanie would mess with his head so extremely by showing up in his bed, then ditching him. She was neither that cold nor that desperate.

      The real Emma, his black cat, jumped gracefully down from the bookcase and fixed him with a feed-me-or-die stare.

      He fed her, glancing at the clock. Early still. He could work out now in case Melanie wanted to go out after work.

      Adrenaline burned through his system, bliss and torture in equal measures. He’d been patient so far. Knowing Melanie, he’d have to be even more patient now, when he was the most eager for a continuation of what they’d started last night.

      If they had started anything last night.

      Had they?

      He wasn’t the kind of guy she usually went for, which was the understatement of the millennium. That fact could work in his favor now. Because he didn’t fit any of her hot-guy criteria, maybe she’d been after more than a quick lay. Maybe she was even open to that most terrifying of all things as far as Melanie was concerned—A Relationship.

      Down, boy. He couldn’t get ahead of himself like this; he’d only drive himself crazy with tantalizing hope, and in the process set himself up for a huge and potentially castrating fall. He needed to prepare to hear from Melanie that last night was a nutty aberration, both a beginning and an end.

      Or she could come through the office door with a special secret smile meant only for him.

      God, he was going to have to jerk off if he thought about that any more.

      He went into the spare room where he kept his treadmill and weights, and spent an hour trying to calm himself down with exhaustion. It didn’t work. He could have spent the rest of the day lifting and running and still have enough nervous energy left over to power a rocketship.

      Out of the shower, he made himself eggs, whole-grain toast and a banana yogurt shake, sat at the breakfast nook and could barely eat.

      Damn. He was a wreck. A geeky pathetic wreck in love with a woman who went through men like doctors went through latex gloves.

      But he was also a geeky pathetic wreck in love with a woman who’d slipped into his bed and allowed him to show her every bit of that love, who’d responded, trembled in his arms, climaxed twice, and gone to sleep calmer and more relaxed than he’d ever known her to be, as if she understood as clearly as he did that she’d come home.

      If only she’d stayed.

      The apartment door burst open, making him jump, but for once he was glad Stoner forgot to lock up when he left, or Melanie wouldn’t have been able to get in last night and surprise him, practically to the point of cardiac arrest.

      “Hey.” His brother looked like hell, cheeks stubbled, skin pale, eyes ringed dark.

      “G’morning. Good time last night?”

      “The best, man.” He high-fived Edgar on his way to the refrigerator. “I’m parched this morning, though. Parched.”

      “There’s more juice in the cupboard if you want it.”

      “Thanks. How was your evening?”

      “The usual.” If he’d been with anyone but Melanie, he would have given in to his pride and told his brother what really happened, maybe gotten up for a manly, growling chest bump or two.

      But no one would know what went on with Melanie until he was damn sure all of it would happen again. Repeatedly.

      “You gotta come hear me play, dude.” Stoner finished the carton of OJ and belched impressively.

      “I’ll come to a rehearsal. I’m not into the club scene. Crowds, smoke, noise. It’s not my thing.”

      “Geez, Eddie, you gotta live.”

      Edgar didn’t bother mentioning that living the way Stoner did would make him feel half-dead most of the time. “I live. Just not your way.”

      “More like Pater and Mater.”

      “If you mean cleaning happens, yeah. If you mean I’d rather hear a symphony or jazz band than garage-band rock, again yeah. If you mean I live only to impress other people with my possessions and my good taste, then no.”

      “Boom, you got ‘em. Don’t know how they stand the charade.”

      Edgar shrugged. “They’re surrounded by it in that town. Hard to escape.”

      “No kidding. It’s like a science dish. Petri. Swarming with obscenely rich bacteria.”

      Edgar chuckled. “Stoner, that was sheer poetry.”

      “Yeah?” He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “There’s a song in there. Gotta think about that one later.”

      “You been in touch with Mom and Dad lately?” Edgar asked casually, but he knew they both worried when they didn’t hear.

      “I mean to. I just forget.” He tossed the juice carton into the trash. “Hey, I saw your friend Melanie last night at The Wicked Hop.”

      “Yeah?” Edgar managed not to look smug. “She goes there a lot after work.”

      “She told me. Hot chick. Great

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