Free What Looks Like Crazy by Charlotte Hughes Page A

from the floor, pulled it over my head, and searched for my thong. Where the hell was my thong? I checked the covers and looked beneath the bed, then raced from the room, trying to make as little sound as possible.
    The place looked much the same as it had when I’d lived there. The building had once served as a mill and was converted to lofts in the late nineties. The brick walls, wood floors, and twenty-foot ceilings, not to mention Jay’s masculine furniture, had given the place a stark look that I’d softened with slipcovers, shaggy rugs, and window treatments after I’d moved in.
    I did not see my thong. My high heels were still lying beside the front door, where I’d kicked them off when I’d come through the night before; beside them lay my small evening bag. I grabbed both.
    Damn, damn, damn! Where was my thong? I started for the bedroom once again, only to hear Jay shut off the shower. I did an about-face and ran on tiptoes to the front door. I turned the dead bolt, slid the chain free, and ran out.
    Once I was on the sidewalk out front, it hit me: I had no cell phone to call a cab. I slipped on my stilettos and started down the sidewalk as quickly as I could. In the parking lot next to the building, I saw a woman and a young girl getting out of a car. I hurried over.
    I didn’t recognize the woman, but she could have been a new tenant. “Excuse me,” I said, noting her arched brows and the way she pulled her daughter closer as I neared them. “Do you happen to have a cell phone on you?”
    The woman hesitated.
    â€œMommy, is that lady a hooker?” the little girl asked.
    The woman turned stricken eyes to her daughter. “Where did you learn that word?” she demanded. “That is not a word we use in our family.”
    â€œI’m just a regular person,” I said, “who needs to make a quick phone call.”
    Still eyeing me dubiously, the woman reached into her purse and pulled out a cell phone. I dialed the office and prayed Mona would have arrived by now. She picked up on the second ring. “It’s me,” I said. “I don’t have time to explain, but I’m outside Jay’s place. I need a cab, fast. Mr. Lewey is coming in at nine.”
    For once Mona didn’t question me. I gave her the address. “Tell the driver to pull into the parking lot next to the building. Tell him not to leave if he doesn’t see me right away. I’ll be hiding behind the building, but I’ll watch for him.” I started to hang up. “Oh, one more thing,” I added quickly. “If you can get your hands on a pair of clean underwear, I’d appreciate it. I’ve lost mine.” But Mona had already hung up.
    I heard a gasp. The woman had her hands pressed against her daughter’s ears. “This is a respectable neighborhood,” she hissed.
    â€œIt’s not what you think,” I said.
    She yanked the phone from my hand and all but dragged her daughter away as quickly as possible.
    I hid behind the building, hoping and praying the cab would arrive quickly. I should never have gone to Jay’s place to begin with. I was a weak woman, an embarrassment to women everywhere. All Jay’d had to do was nuzzle the back of my neck, and I’d been a goner. I covered my eyes, but it didn’t block the memory of me pulling off my thong and dangling it in his face.
    I’d lost control. I recalled tugging the front of his shirt from his jeans. There’d been no stopping me. Not that Jay had tried. We’d barely made it to the bedroom before he had me out of my dress. Our lips had remained fused together, even as he’d hovered over me, as he sank into me, and I’d felt my body shiver and my liver quiver at the fierce pleasure. Our lovemaking had been fast and furious, two people answering a desperate mutual need. Nothing else mattered.
    It wasn’t until later, when we’d made love a