HotText

Hot Text

Cari Quinn

Sometimes what you think you want and what you need are
two very different things.

As a technical editor, Jeffrey Maddox deals with plenty of
words, leaving him few to spare on people, except his baby sister. To keep
Daisy from wrecking her newly rehabbed life by shacking up with her older,
married lover Lonny, he impulsively texts Lonny’s wife, Karyn. And then meets
her at a coffee shop on a snowy night, ostensibly to convince her to stay with
her philandering husband.

But soon texting turns to sexting. After spending the night
getting to know Karyn, Jeff wants something much more personal—Lonny’s wife.
For himself.

Despite her misgivings about Jeff’s intentions, Karyn can’t
fight their attraction. She’s still not divorced, though she knows there’s no
way she’ll return to her husband. But maybe an amazing night of
conversation—and even more amazing lovemaking—can lead to more than just one
night of hot text.

Chapter One

Jeff Maddox stared at the cell phone vibrating on his
sister’s coffee table. “Did you get a new phone, Daze?”

Mid-manicure, she concentrated on her French tips and shook
her head. “Nuh-uh. Must be Lon’s.”

Lon.
Just the name made his hackles rise. “So your
jerk of a boyfriend can’t remember to take his phone with him after he creeps
out of here?”

“More like swaggers,” Daisy said with a smirk, blowing on
her thumb. She wiggled the rest of her fingers a few times and capped the
bottle of polish. “He just forgot it.”

With another wave of her hands, she jumped to her feet and
strolled toward the narrow galley-style kitchen that bordered one side of the
living room. “Gonna make some cocoa. Want?”

“Sure,” he said, sitting down on the couch and grabbing the
phone.

He had no compunction about flipping it open and seeing
who’d called because the creep was balling his sister. Noisily and often, if
the disgusting sounds emanating through the paper-thin walls last night were
any indication.

Jeff shook his head. Didn’t it just figure? He’d intended to
hang out with his baby sister for a weekend, relax, watch some movies while his
own apartment got exterminated.

Instead he’d been treated to an X-rated night of squeals and
deep groans that would have put a porn star to shame.

Worst of all, the guy was fucking
married
. He claimed
to be separated. Most likely bullshit.

His sister so didn’t need this crap. She’d finally been on
the path to a better life. Instead of constantly changing jobs and moving in
with one friend after another, she’d found a good position doing hair at a
place on Main Street. Better yet, she’d signed a six-month lease for this
apartment, located on the decent side of town.

For a woman whose idea of routine meant keeping the same
hair color two months running, she’d actually seemed headed toward stability.
Jeff would be damned if she headed back down the drain thanks to Lonny fricking
James.

He stared at the phone and saw the caller’s name. Karyn.
Well, well. The Mrs. calling to check on her less than better half. He’d done a
bit of research into Lon’s background and he recognized the name. How many
Karens spelled their name with a ‘y’? Not that many, especially those that
would be calling Lon.

Jeff’s thumb hovered over the buttons. Maybe if he had a
talk with her, she’d find a way to keep her jerk of a husband home and drinking
his own beer where he belonged. At the very least, he could expose the affair
and make life difficult for the dickwad.

Confronting the guy and asking him man-to-man to get the
hell out of Daisy’s life hadn’t worked. Nor had warning Daisy about the
long-range possible consequences. That left the wife.

Contacting her might—all right,
would
—hurt his sister
but he ranked her welfare as more important than her feelings. It also probably
wouldn’t accomplish a thing. But he owed it to Daisy to try. Maybe one day
she’d even thank him.

Jeff shot off a quick text to Mrs. James while his sister
sang about “booty popping” in a loud, off-key voice and nuked their cocoa.

Ur husbnd 4got his phone. Meet u to return it?

He waited impatiently, rubbing the sides of his boots
together to try to get off some of the mucky slush. Winter had started early in
upstate New York this year. Tonight’s forecast included sleet and he really had
no desire to be out late driving in the mess. Saturday night meant more crazy
drivers on the road than usual and he had half of a software manual left to
edit. If Karyn James agreed to a meeting, he’d have to get in and get out fast.
Hopefully she’d be in the mood to listen to reason.

He also hoped he’d be able to pull more social skills out of
his ass than he normally possessed. Cranky technical editors who spent more
time meddling in their sister’s love lives than having one of their own weren’t
exactly known for their winsome ways.

Or maybe that was just him.

After a moment, the phone vibrated in his hand. He glanced
down and smiled at her reply. At least she
had
replied.
Who’re you
?

A friend.
Jeff almost gagged typing the word.
Can
we meet?

Where?

He typed with his thumbs, cursing under his breath. No
wonder he rarely used his own cell. They were too hard to navigate with fingers
bigger than a toddler’s.

Shay’s Coffee Shp. 20 mins?

He’d gambled on her being in town and available, and Cedar
Hollow wasn’t very big. Daisy had mentioned where Lonny’s old house was, so
Jeff knew Karyn didn’t live far away. Unless she’d traveled out of the area for
some reason, she’d be able to make it, even if it was sleeting. And he
certainly wouldn’t keep her long. Last thing he intended was to waste his night
on small talk.

Her answer came quickly.
Thirty. What do u look like,
frnd?

In spite of himself, he caught himself smiling at the
cheekiness of her answer.
Brn hr, bl eyes. Tall. Gray ftball hoodie.
He
didn’t wear a winter coat. Boots were bad enough.

K. I’m brunette, hazel eyes. Avg ht and wt. Name?

He typed as fast as his clumsy thumbs allowed.
Jeff. C U
soon.

He pocketed the phone and looked up when his sister arrived
with two overflowing mugs of cocoa. She’d piled his high with the whipped cream
she stocked just for him while hers was bare. As usual. His sister dieted
constantly.

Lonny probably liked his mistresses rail thin.

Familiar acid churned in his gut. Nothing new there. He’d
been churned up about this situation for too long now.

Jeff rose and snatched the mug, sucking down a scalding
mouthful of hot chocolate that left him wearing the whipped cream and sporting
a burnt tongue. “For fuck’s sake, Daze.”

“Who told you to wolf it down?” She set the tray on the
coffee table and looked over her shoulder at him, her fringe of copper bangs
falling into eyes the exact same shade of gray as their mom’s. “Where’s Lon’s
phone?”

He gulped more cocoa. “Thanks for the drink. Gotta go.”

“What do you mean you have to go? You said you were staying
’til tomorrow night. What about the exterminators?”

“Technically I only had to stay away one night. As a
precaution.”

“But you said you’d spend the weekend with me. I thought we
could hang out.” She pouted. “We hardly ever see each other anymore. You’re
almost as bad as Mom, always too busy.”

Guilt kicked him in the shins, hard. “She’s trying to start
her new business, you know that.”

“Yeah, yeah. She’s a high-powered career consultant now.
Yippee. What about you?”

“What about me?” Hearing his defensive tone, he set down his
half-empty mug and backed toward the door. “I’m around.”

“Right. You’re always at the office, though we both know you
only stay late because there's no one left to bother you.”

She had an excellent point. His job at Cedar Hollow Form and
Print jibed perfectly with his desire to avoid as much extraneous human contact
as possible. The end-user software manuals he edited didn’t excite him but at
least they were predictable.

People weren’t. His ex-wives hadn’t been. The few friends
he’d managed to keep in contact with since his school days never let him down
but they were far-flung across the globe and busy with their own lives.

Something he wasn’t, by and large. By choice, granted, but
he didn’t have a lot to offer to conversations about white-water rafting trips
or sojourns to Africa.

He worked, he watched TV, he slept. Occasionally he
dated—very occasionally—or visited friends out of town. Since his last divorce,
he’d been content with his mostly solitary lifestyle. It didn’t require too
much thought and he didn’t have to wonder if he lacked in some way.
Working
on his relationship
were words that never entered his personal lexicon
anymore.

Thank God.

“Is Lon coming over tonight?” he asked, not commenting on
her assessment. Daisy knew him too well.

When she didn’t answer, he nodded. “Just as I thought. I’ll
catch you later.”

“Wait. Wait! What about his phone?” She followed him to her
front door and leaned into the hall when he kept walking. “What are you doing
with it?”

“Don’t worry. He’ll get it back,” Jeff called over his
shoulder, his hand going to the cell in his front pocket.

One way or another.

* * * * *

Karyn paced back and forth in front of a window at Shay’s
Coffee Shop, certain she was making a huge mistake. Smart women didn’t meet
total strangers who claimed to have their husband’s—
estranged
husband’s—phone. He could be holding Lon for ransom somewhere. This Jeff could
be a hulking thug with an eye patch and a team of backup thugs to do his
bidding.

“Too many late-night movies,” she whispered to herself,
rubbing her arms over her cardigan to ward off the chill. She’d already chugged
a tall snowflake latte and the peppermint from the syrup still clung to her
lips. She wanted another one but her waistline wouldn’t appreciate it. Nor
would her wallet. Even if she didn’t care too much about her diet at the
moment, she stuck rigidly to her budget, planning for those rainy days that
insisted on showing up.

“He’s late,” she added a moment later. She grimaced as she
realized she was talking to herself again, precisely why she stayed home with
her movies most of the time. Mornings teaching preschool at the local
Montessori school made up the bulk of her social excursions, and for good
reason. Three- and four-year-olds didn’t mind that Mrs. James had a few quirks.

Regular people, on the other hand, just might.

She fumbled for a tissue, just to give herself something to
do. She had all kinds of things in her pockets. Bandages, a mini highlighter,
spare change, throat lozenges. Though it was Saturday, she’d helped host her
school’s open house and still wore her teacher gear. The only thing that marred
her tidy appearance was the streak of yellow paint on one thigh of her khakis.
Served her right for painting the minute she got home instead of changing into
a smock. But she’d been wrapped up in thinking about the release of throwing
paint on canvas, desperate to put the long day of hyper kids and parent-teacher
conferences behind her. Though she loved showing off her school and meeting her
kids’ families, today had been more trying than usual. For once her heart just
hadn’t been in it.

She glanced at her watch again and sighed. One hell of a way
to spend her wedding anniversary. And her divorce papers sat on her
grandparents’ antique table in her dining room, just where they’d sat since the
process server had handed them to her.

She hadn’t been able to look yet. Tomorrow she would. She’d
handle what needed to be done. First she had to get through today.

In a moment of weakness, she’d called her
soon-to-be-ex-husband. She didn’t want to reconcile. Far from it. She’d just
wanted to know if he had noticed the date or if he’d left her to shoulder that
burden alone like all the rest he’d dumped in her lap.

Lon had been typically reticent to discuss the significance
of the date or anything else. Once upon a time, she’d found his strong, silent
routine a turn-on. In those days she’d found everything about him sexy. His
personality, his intelligence, the way he made love to her in such a strong,
focused way, as if he knew exactly how to give her pleasure.

In the beginning, he had. She hadn’t had any complaints
sexually for a long time. By the time she did, her concerns outside the bedroom
were much more pressing than her increasingly frequent inability to get off
with her husband.

She worried the long braid she’d pulled over one shoulder,
her gaze on the line of cars creeping past the coffee shop. The turbulent
twilight sky spit sleet and the tap-tap-tap of it on the tin roof rose above
the piped-in jazz. Voices hummed around her, soft and comforting. Nice to hear
people talking and laughing. Her house felt so quiet now with Lon gone.
Probably why she kept the movie channel on night and day. Anything to fill the
silence.

The silence in her head was harder. Mornings tested her.
Sometimes even the memory of Lon’s cold body seemed better than the void of her
empty bed.

Not that she cried. She couldn’t seem to dredge up any
tears. She’d tried. Repeatedly. Surely it wasn’t right for a woman not to cry
over her husband asking for a divorce.

Months had passed since that night and she still hadn’t. She
almost wanted to, just to prove she wasn’t broken.

Karyn tugged on her braid, just about to check the time
again when the door opened with a little jingle of bells. She glanced at the
man that entered the shop, glanced away. Then she glanced back, shocked at the
tickle of awareness along the back of her neck as she checked out his profile.

He looked like an ordinary guy. Average—the same
matter-of-fact label she’d assigned herself years ago. Golden-brown hair, no
stubble to speak of, firm jaw. Good lips, even with the little scowl that
pulled them down. She couldn’t see his eye color. Maybe hazel, like hers.

Her gaze skipped along broad shoulders, landed on his gray
football hoodie. Great. This guy—
Jeff
—with the pencil stuck behind one
ear sure didn’t look like a thug, thereby debunking most of her other theories.
Which meant she’d just been ogling a friend of her soon-to-be-ex-husband.

Didn’t that just figure?

He turned his head and settled his gaze on her where she
stood beside the little round table she couldn’t manage to actually
sit
at. Her stomach tightened in concert with her throat but she strode forward and
stuck out a hand. “Jeff?” she asked, hoping she sounded polite rather than
tense. “I’m Karyn.”