A Christmas Rendezvous - Karen Booth Mills & Boon Desire

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painful she thought she might never recover. That had been over an actual pregnancy, not merely a fear of obligation. Her initial impression of Jeremy had been correct. He came off as smooth for a reason—he was all about the pursuit, not about sticking around. And that was fine. No harm, no foul. They hardly knew each other. It was understandable that he might feel trapped. It was now her job to let him off the hook, if only to allow herself to get on her with her life.

      “If it makes you feel any better, my name is Isabel Blackwell.”

      He glanced over at her. “Oh. Okay. My last name is Sharp.”

      Isabel grabbed the sheet and pulled it up over herself. Exchanging last names had done nothing to make this situation more comfortable. If anything, it made it so much more obvious that she wasn’t built for one-night stands.

      Isabel scooted up in bed until her back was against the headboard. “Look. Don’t worry about it. It’s okay. I keep track of my cycle pretty closely. I don’t think there’s any chance we’re in trouble.” She’d undersold that part by quite a bit. She’d been methodically tracking her periods for the last several years. If she managed to meet Mr. Right, she wanted to be able to try for a baby as soon as possible. Isabel prepared for everything in life. It was the best way to avoid surprises and the perfect distraction when you felt like the things you wanted weren’t happening fast enough.

      “Okay. Well, I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to stay...” His voice trailed off, leaving Isabel to make the final declaration.

      “No, Jeremy. It’s okay. I think it’s probably best at this point if you head home. I have a big meeting tomorrow and I’m sure you have things you need to do tomorrow. We probably both need a good night’s sleep.”

      He nodded. “Sure. Yes. Of course.” He got up from the bed and began collecting his clothes from their various locales across the room. He let go of the towel so he could step into his boxers, giving Isabel one last parting glance at perfect Jeremy. Damn. If only this hadn’t started so absurdly. If only it hadn’t ended so uncomfortably. He might have been a guy she would have wanted around for a while.

      Wrapped up in the sheet, she climbed out of bed and padded past him to the bathroom. She quietly closed the door behind her and sucked in several deep breaths. You’re okay. Moving to New York was supposed to be her new beginning, especially with men and the notion of having a personal life. So she’d had a false start. Jeremy was ultimately a nice guy. He was handsome, sexy and kind. They’d had some rotten luck, but that happened every day. Isabel needed to get past the idea that her fresh start was ruined by one mishap.

      She stepped to the sink, took a sip of water from the glass on the vanity and prepared herself to walk back out into the room. “Worse things have happened.” When she opened the bathroom door, Jeremy was standing right outside, suit on but no tie. His briefcase was in his hand. For a moment, she wondered what he did for work. Probably a Wall Street guy. He seemed the type—cocky, good-looking, sure of himself. She wouldn’t ask him now.

      “Okay, then. You off?” she asked.

      He nodded. “Yes. Thank you for tonight. It was really nice. I swear.”

      She had to laugh at what a sad and funny situation she’d gotten herself into. She stepped closer to him and stole one last kiss. “Jeremy. You were amazing. And I hope you have a lifetime of making money and finding fun wherever you go.”

      He smiled, but it wasn’t a full-throttle grin, not the smile that had first sparked her curiosity or the chemistry between them. “I hope you find everything you’re looking for, Isabel Blackwell.”

      With that, she opened the door and watched as he walked down the hall to the elevator. She hoped Jeremy was right. She didn’t want to go too much longer waiting.

       Three

      Jeremy finally gave in at 4:37 a.m. His night’s sleep was a lost cause. He climbed out from under his down comforter and sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, and ran a hand through his hair. A deep sigh escaped his lips, but he could have sworn he heard a word in it. A name. Isabel. What the hell was that? What the hell happened?

      He’d never had a woman work her way into his psyche in such a short amount of time—mere hours. Sure, part of it was the fact that he was still stinging from the way he’d had to exit her room, and her life. When they’d been down at the bar flirting and she offered the invitation to come upstairs, his plan had been to leave her happy and exhausted, positively aglow from sex. Instead, he’d departed while she was bundled up in a sheet like a hastily wrapped gift, granting him a dispassionate kiss goodbye and leaving him with the crushing sense that they would always have unfinished business.

      Another sigh came. He was going to have to stop letting this get to him.

      With a long day of client meetings ahead, he decided to get in a workout. He sometimes managed to sneak away at lunch and go to the Sharp and Sharp gym, but that likely wouldn’t happen today. He flipped on the light in his master bedroom, grabbed a pair of shorts, a T-shirt and running shoes, then made his way up one set of stairs to the fourth floor of this renovated brownstone. He had a small theater and gym up there, additions he made after his ex-wife moved out. Kelsey never saw the point in watching movies and didn’t want the “smell” of a workout space. But now that he was all on his own, Jeremy could do as he liked.

      It wasn’t much of a consolation.

      Forty-five minutes on the treadmill and a half hour of free weights was enough to work up a sufficient sweat and shake off some of the lingering thoughts of Isabel. He hustled down to the second floor and the gourmet kitchen, where he prepared entirely too many meals for one. Coffee was dripping into the carafe when he heard a familiar sound coming from the patio off the back of the house.

       Meow.

      It was December 9. It was entirely too cold for an animal to be outside. Jeremy padded over to the glass door, and as had happened many times before, a large orange tabby cat was winding his way back and forth in front of the window. The cat had been to the house many times, and Jeremy had even taken him in once before, over a year ago when it was unbearably hot. The cat’s visit had lasted less than a day. He slipped out the front door when Jeremy came home from work that night. Jeremy wasn’t a cat person at all—he didn’t really see the point of a pet that didn’t do anything other than lounge around all day. He’d called Animal Control to see if they could catch him, but they’d seemed unconcerned. He’d even had his assistant call the veterinarian in his neighborhood of Park Slope, but they couldn’t do much until someone caught the cat and brought him in. Jeremy kept hoping someone else would take on the burden, but apparently not. At least not today.

      Meow. The cat reared up on its hind legs and pressed a single paw to the glass, peering up at Jeremy with eyes that were entirely too plaintive.

      Jeremy crouched down and looked into his little cat face. “Buddy. What are you doing out there? It’s six in the morning and it’s freezing.”

      Meow. The cat pawed at the glass.

      Jeremy straightened. This was the last thing he had time for, but temperatures weren’t expected to get above freezing today. He couldn’t let the poor thing suffer. Resigned, he flipped the dead bolt, turned the knob and tugged on it. Bitter cold rushed in, but not as fast as the cat. Jeremy closed the door, realizing he now had a big task ahead of him—he had to feed the cat and figure out where to put him all day while he was at work.

      He went to the pantry to look for a can of tuna, but that was a bust. Then he remembered that he had some lox in the refrigerator from the bagel shop down the street.

      “I guess we’re going to find out if you like smoked salmon.” He placed a slice of the fish on a plate and broke it into smaller pieces with his fingers. Jeremy had a feeling this was going to be a big hit. The cat was now rubbing against his ankles.

      Jeremy put the plate on the floor

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