From This Moment On
Page 3

The doorbell rang and she realized she’d forgotten about the ice cream she’d ordered from room service. On a night like this, she simply didn’t have the energy to care that the hotel staff member would see her without any makeup on and immediately get on Twitter and tell the world about it.
No question about it, chocolate ice cream was her last hope tonight.
She opened the door. “Hi.”
The guy looked at her, then actually looked over her shoulder for the real Nico. Finally, he looked back at her, his features twisting toward recognition as he stared. “I’ve got your room service, Nico.”
She stepped aside so that he could wheel in the big tray, even though she could easily have just picked up the container on top.
“It’s just the brand you asked for. A quart of it.”
“Thanks.” She took the pen he handed her to sign the room tab and felt, like laser beams, the guy’s eyes on her butt in the snug sweatpants. She’d been feeling those eyes from one guy or another for the past ten years, ever since she’d woken up one morning with br**sts and hips.
She didn’t even mind the leering. What she minded were the assumptions that came with it, that just because she had the T&A that guys drooled over, it meant she was going to hop into bed with them indiscriminately.
She wasn’t a slut, no matter what the world thought.
She went to hand him back the pen, but he was too busy ogling her chest to notice.
Nicola always made it a point to be nice to the staff anywhere she was staying. It wasn’t that long ago that she’d been waiting tables and cleaning hotel rooms while she waited to be “discovered.”
Tonight, she was all out of nice.
“Here.” She jammed the pen into the guy’s palm, then went to the door and held it open for him.
He moved slowly toward it and she was counting the seconds until he was gone when he said, “You all alone tonight?”
Seriously? She had to deal with this garbage just to get some ice cream?
“I’ve got plans already, thanks.” He nodded, but she didn’t like what she saw in his eyes. “My boyfriend will be up in a minute,” she lied.
“Well, if you’re looking for company later...”
He was across the threshold by then and she didn’t hesitate to slam the door in his face. After bolting it, she muttered, “Jerk.”
The ice cream container was starting to sweat on the big silver cart, but she wasn’t in the mood for it anymore.
It wasn’t fair. The whole world thought she was a total tramp when the truth was that she’d had sex with a grand total of two guys. Brad from twelfth grade in the backseat of his dad’s car. And then Kenny, because she’d thought they loved each other.
Even worse, neither of her previous lovers had been all that great. Brad, she could forgive, because it had been the first time for both of them and their location had been terrible. But Kenny, she’d finally realized, simply hadn’t cared about making her feel good. He’d been all about himself the entire time and she’d only fed into it by constantly trying to please him so that he’d love her more.
At least if she’d ever had anything approaching real pleasure, maybe she wouldn’t be so bitter about her reputation. Maybe then she could just own it. Maybe then she would actually feel like the sexy woman she portrayed on her album covers and music videos. Maybe then she wouldn’t have made her choreographer, Lori, stay so long with her tonight, long past when she should have let the woman leave for her brother’s engagement party.
All of a sudden, a crazy impulse hit her square in her solar plexus: since she was never going to shake off her reputation, what if she went out to earn it instead?
Nicola had always been impulsive, from the time she was a little girl. Her report cards said the same thing, year after year: “Nicola is a bright girl, but she often acts without thinking.”
Okay, she thought as she tossed various articles of clothing onto the bed and tried to figure out just the right look for what she wanted to accomplish tonight, so she’d learned her lesson about trusting jerks. And, of course, one day she wanted love. Real love. True love.
But she was tired of living like a nun, sick of trying to constantly convince everyone that she wasn’t a wild party girl, when they all thought she was anyway.
For just one night she wanted to know what all the fuss was about. She wanted to find a man to share her passions with, a real man who was experienced enough to take her to a place she’d never been before.
Her heart beat hard as she stripped off her sweatpants and tank top and slipped into a short, strapless leather dress. One wrong move in any direction and the T&A she was so famous for would be popping out for the entire world to see.
But, suddenly, Nicola didn’t care anymore. Anything was better than this bone-deep loneliness.
So she’d end up on the cover of another tabloid magazine. Big whoop. It wasn’t like it hadn’t happened before. And she’d survived.
Mostly, anyway.
Chapter Two
Marcus was known for his patience. After helping to raise his seven siblings, he’d learned to wait out tantrums, fistfights, even tears.
Tonight, he was all out of patience.
He’d been watching the dancers for long enough to know that he wasn’t going to take a single one of them to bed. None of the women who’d walked in through the thick red curtain in the past thirty minutes had been contenders, either.
Until, suddenly, the curtain parted…and she walked in.
Marcus felt like a fist had slammed straight into his gut.
The woman was young, mid-twenties probably, and so damn beautiful it almost hurt to look at her. Her black leather dress left nothing to his imagination, fitting her like a second skin with wide cut-outs that ran down the side of her insane curves.
She was the one.
As she stood in the doorway and slowly scanned the crowd, every eye in the room was on her. She was magnetic, had that special something that made it impossible to pull your eyes away from her.
And then her eyes met his, illuminated by a beam of light in the dark room, and although Marcus hadn’t drunk nearly enough at Chase’s engagement party to be unsteady on his feet, one look at those clear blue eyes had him fighting for balance.
What was wrong with him?
He needed to remember, at all times, what tonight was about. Sex. Pleasure. Not emotion. Not a relationship. It was okay for certain parts of his body below the waist to react like a match had been lit from nothing more than looking at the woman. Everything else was off-limits. He wasn’t looking for a woman to respect.