There was no other way to describe it.
Getting all dolled-up and heading out to Tramps seemed like the best way to lift her spirits and remind herself of her post-divorce resolution to be bold, brash and fearless. Earlier that evening, Fiona resolved that while the encounter with Jayson and Keisha in Target was a blow, she could get some male attention in the dimly-lit nightclub, drink a bit, get tipsy and dance a little, then go home having spent all of her negative emotions on the dance floor.
And then, the cruelest joke to end all cruel jokes—she spotted Jayson with his girlfriend making out on the dance floor. First they were barely able to keep their eyes off each other, not to mention their hands. Then he kissed her, and in doing so, Jayson seemed to be in some kind of frenzy, like he couldn’t get enough of the girl.
Fiona recalled only too well what that felt like, having Jayson kiss her. It made her wet; just one kiss from him could do that. It wasn’t just his skill—which was considerable—it was his enthusiasm. Like kissing was the pinnacle of pleasure for him. He never made Fiona feel like the kissing was just foreplay. He treated it like it was the climax —ha, ha— of what they might do together. So by the time he undressed her, which he always took his time doing, she was already moaning and squirming, grabbing his hand to lead his fingers to her clit, and simultaneously reaching for the hard bulge at his crotch.
Jesus Christ life was unfair. Of all the things to happen . . .
Turning and pushing her way toward the exit, Fiona felt the bitter taste of humiliation rise from the pit of her stomach. She could not let him see her here, all dressed up and desperate, searching in vain for his replacement. As though he could be replaced.
No, he couldn’t. He couldn’t be replaced.
A man like Jayson Holmes did not happen every day—beautiful enough to make you weep, an accomplished and considerate lover, a good and thoughtful friend. And with just enough of a past, and just enough damage that he didn’t realize he was way out of her league. It was then, as she left Tramps with her head down, that Fiona made her decision.
She wasn’t going to roll over this time. This Keisha person was not going to take Jayson from her. She would retreat now, but only so she could regroup and come back in fighting form another day. Keisha may have beauty on her side, but Fiona had other assets—proximity for one, and history. She already knew that Jayson was pining for the time before he went to prison, and for the life he might have had, so she would use those things to her advantage. She knew his family, was cordial with his sister; she knew all about his glory days in high school and had even attended his mother’s funeral.
So what if Keisha had a pretty face, a tight little body and possibly some personality trait Jayson thought he was attracted to? That, in comparison to what Fiona had at her disposal, was next to nothing.
By the time she was at her car, she was smiling. She was the type of person who always felt better when she had a plan. And this time, the plan was clear: get Jayson back.