Free Bad Girl by Night by Lacey Alexander

makeup.
    And she’d been unable to hide her shock at seeing him again. So he knew it was her—no question.
    As he jogged up the street, he tried not to call attention to himself and was glad no one here knew him yet and wouldn’t question his hurry. After a block and a half, he spotted her up ahead, her long blondish ponytail hanging down her back—one more thing that looked entirely different about her than on the night they’d met. The night they’d fucked. With Colt.
    He’d thought he’d had some pretty wild sex in his day, but he’d never done anything like that before. And when she’d first suggested it, he’d been a little worried it would be awkward with a longtime friend—but at the same time, he hadn’t felt inclined to say no. She was hot as hell, and she’d wanted to get nasty with him and his buddy, and that had been a lure too strong to resist.
    She walked briskly, her ass swaying quickly back and forth in old blue jeans that looked naturally sexy, even with a loose T-shirt. But he was in good shape—he had to be for his job—so catching up with her didn’t even leave him winded. As he came up behind her, he said, “Carly.”
    She peeked over her shoulder, her hazel eyes growing wide with fright just before she turned back around and picked up her pace again.
    “Wait,” he said, and when she ignored him, he came up beside her, took hold of her arm.
    She stopped then, looked up at him. And they froze like that for a minute. Both thinking back, he supposed. To the last time they’d touched. To nakedness, and lust, and explosive orgasms. And seeing each other now, unexpectedly, in such a different setting—it was just plain strange. “What’s the deal?” he finally asked, lowering his voice.
    “Please let go of me,” she said, her tone soft but firm, “before people start staring.”
    Okay, fair enough—he released her.
    But in response, she resumed moving forward—so he did, too. “What—you’re just gonna walk away and pretend nothing ever happened between us?”
    Despite the season and the sun, her face went noticeably pale as she stared straight ahead. “Yes. If you’ll just let me, that is.”
    “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he informed her.
    After which she stopped again to blink up at him, appearing frantic, angry. “Why not? Why can’t you just forget you ever recognized me? Why can’t you just let me go on with my life in peace?”
    Jesus—what the hell was she so mad about? A long, belabored sigh left him before he said, “Look, it’s not like I’m out to torment you here.”
    “Well, that’s exactly what you’re doing.”
    “It’s just that . . . when you meet somebody a second time and they seem so . . . uh, different, not even with the same damn name . . . Hell, how can I not want to know what’s going on?”
    Her breath came thready now, and it made him feel bad, like he really was tormenting her. “I don’t care what you want to know—can’t you just be a gentleman and let it go?”
    He exhaled an irritated breath . “Don’t take this the wrong way, but . . . you didn’t seem to want a gentleman the night we met. I never got the chance to be a gentleman.”
    It made her face turn red. Shit. He hadn’t meant to embarrass her—but it was a little hard to swallow her request to be a “gentleman” given the things they’d done together on that deliciously dirty night. She started walking again, so he followed behind, coming up beside her once more. “I’m sorry—I didn’t say that to upset you. I just want to understand. Why did you lie about your name?”
    She seemed to be ignoring him now, digging a key from her purse as they stopped before one of the quaint Main Street shops—like Frank had mentioned, the lettering on the window said WINTERBERRY’S. And she made furniture ? He was just beginning to process that part. His mind still spun. As she unlocked the door and pushed it open, he started to follow her in, figuring she was just