The Ex Factor. Nancy Warren

so fast that she couldn’t have moved away if she’d tried. She uttered a muffled protest, squirmed against him and then as the inevitable tide of heat swamped her, found herself melting into that oh, so familiar embrace.

      The initial hardness of his kiss softened and he began to play with her, igniting all her responses until she was crazy with pent-up lust and a need so strong she couldn’t begin to stifle it. She was so weak-kneed she clung to him, responding wildly, mindlessly.

      Every part of her ached and burned and throbbed. If he threw her down on the Hepplewhite desk now, or even on the reclaimed hardwood floor, she’d let him take her and both of them knew it.

      Then, as suddenly as he’d moved on her, he let go and stepped back. His breathing was faster than normal, his mouth wet from hers. Still, he managed to sound cool when he said, “I don’t think I believe you.”

      Then he turned and headed for the door. “Don’t work too late.”

      3

      “WHAT ABOUT THIS GUY?” Dee asked as they cruised the single man ads on the online dating site that she insisted had the best success with Philly singles. They were in her office and Dee had just finished setting up her account. Even twenty-four hours ago, Karen knew she wouldn’t have put up a profile on something called Plenty of Phillys but since that scorching kiss yesterday, she was determined to get out there and try to find a genuine, decent man who wouldn’t screw around the second her back was turned. Wouldn’t melt her with his kisses when he came back into her life.

      But the man whose photo she was looking at on her computer definitely wasn’t that guy.

      “I want to correct his spelling,” she said.

      Dee sighed and moved to the next one. Mohawk, tattoos and a spiked dog collar. “Ick,” they said in unison.

      The third profile featured a perfectly average-looking man with glasses, a full head of hair, and, perhaps more important, a profile written by someone who’d obviously passed high school English. “He’s a CPA, never been married, but looking to find a partner.” Dee glanced up at her. “That’s good, right?”

      “Yes.” Karen finished reading his profile. “I like that he mentions taking things slow. I really can’t handle fast right now.”

      “Great, let’s send him a wink,” Dee said pushing a couple of buttons before Karen could slap her hand away.

      “What have you done?”

      Dee laughed, the happy trill of a woman who dates regularly and isn’t scarred by love. Yet. “You have to let them know you’re interested. That’s how it works. You send a wink.”

      “I am so not ready for this.”

      “You so are.” Her assistant danced out of the office. “Call me if you need me.”

      Dee hadn’t made it to the door when a funny noise emanating from her laptop made Karen squeak, “I need you.”

      Dee peeked over her shoulder. “Hey, he winked back.”

      “Is that good?”

      “That’s great. Means he read your profile and he’s interested. He’s online now, so you can chat. Look, he’s sent you a message. Click here.”

      Hello, Karen. I see you are a virgin.

      “A virgin?” she squealed. “What is he, a pervert?”

      “Would you relax?” her twenty-three-year-old mentor insisted. “Read on. He means you’re new to the site.”

      “Oh. He says, ‘here’s a bit more about me.’ Um, I think he’s included his resume.”

      “Just give the guy a chance. And remember, there are lots of guys out there, so don’t be afraid to keep looking.”

      “Okay. Thanks.”

      She kept reading. He had sent her a profile, obviously prewritten for such an occasion and if he hadn’t included his resume, there wasn’t much about his schooling and work life she didn’t know when she’d finished. In the back of her mind she was thinking how much her business could benefit from a decent CPA, then she remembered she was supposed to be looking for romance, not accounting services.

      His name was Ron and he did sound like a nice guy. Nothing flashy, which was good. She was pretty sure, for instance, that he wouldn’t shove a woman against her own desk and kiss her senseless. Certainly not without first asking permission. Then she was for damn sure that he wouldn’t waltz back out of her office, having made the point that she was still desperately attracted to him, and leave her seething with sexual frustration as well as anger at her own stupidity.

      Which made Ron a lot closer to perfect than certain men she could name.

      She replied to Ron, telling him a bit about herself.

      Then she clicked off and got back to work.

      When she checked her e-mail again at the end of the day, she had a few random winks, and Ron had replied. She had to admit it was nice to make “get to know you” conversation with a man, even if it was next door to anonymous.

      He ended by inviting her for coffee. I always do coffee as a first date, he explained, obviously catering to her “virgin” status. There’s no pressure. It’s only an hour of our time and if we don’t want to continue that’s fine. And if we do, then we go from there. What do you think?

      What did she think?

      She had no idea, so she decided to lay the entire situation before Chelsea.

      “Online dating?” her friend said when she’d walked over to her place to ask for advice. “Wow. I’ve never tried it, but some of my girlfriends met boyfriends and husbands that way.” She shrugged. “And a few use the site to find booty calls.”

      “Booty calls? Seriously?”

      “Hey, different strokes.”

      Karen bit deeply into a lemon dream bar before saying, “Honestly, I don’t even know what I’m doing. I think I’m scared.”

      “Honey, you book acrobats for weddings, you drag grooms to weddings on time, solve blended family conflicts that would baffle the entire Oprah/Dr. Phil team. I once saw you personally climb a tree to fix twinkle lights. While wearing four-inch heels. I think you can handle a cup of coffee with a CPA.”

      “I guess you’re right.” She put a hand to her chest where her heart was beating rapidly.

      Chelsea looked at her with concern. “You seem way more bent out of shape than seems appropriate for a coffee date. What’s going on?”

      “Oh, Chelsea, it’s all such a mess,” she wailed and promptly shoved the last of the lemon dream into her mouth. Once she’d taken what comfort she could from the food, she told her friend everything, from her first meeting Dexter at a party, to their wedding, the marriage, the betrayal, to him coming back into her life. She ended with the kiss.

      “Scumbag!” was Chelsea’s succinct response to the story. For which Karen was enormously grateful. “And now he thinks he can waltz into your business and try to get back in your pants? I don’t think so.”

      “Yeah, I know.”

      “Getting out and dating new men is a fantastic idea. Really. Get your mind off your ex.”

      “I suppose you’re right.”

      “I am right. And you know what else you need?”

      She thought of some of the other well-meaning advice Dee had dispensed from time to time. “Please don’t say sex toys.”

      Chelsea grinned at her. “I am assuming that you have a good selection, as every woman should. But no, I was referring to a girls’ night out.”

      “Oh, I would love that.” A night off from worries and stress