Semi-Sweet Read Free Page B

night, the cream curtains no barrier against a streetlight directly outside. There was more traffic here, too, on Clongarvin’s
     second-busiest street. He’d get used to it.
    He was going to have to get used to a lot of things.
    He turned onto his side and reached toward Leah, stroking the line of warm, naked skin from hip to rib cage. She made a soft
     sound as he moved his hand to rest on her breast. He suddenly found himself remembering Hannah’s breasts, how much fuller
     they were. He pushed the image away and ran a thumb slowly across Leah’s nipple, back and forth, feeling it stiffen in response
     to his touch. Leah stirred again, her breathing lengthening, and pressed her body back into his, her hand sliding onto his
     thigh. He reached past her flat stomach, and she drew a breath slowly as his hand found its way between her legs.

    Hannah was sweating when she woke. The clock beside the bed read 3:11. There was a tightness around her throat, and something
     was bunched uncomfortably at her waist. She pushed the duvet back and groped for the lamp switch. As the room flooded with
     light, as she took in the empty space beside her, as she looked down at her rumpled clothes, it all came flooding back.
    She swung her legs out and stood on the floor. She unwound her scarf and pulled off her coat, and let them both fall. She
     tugged at the black dress until the three giant buttons popped, one by one, and clattered across the wooden boards. She dragged
     the dress over her head, yanked off her tights and panties, and unhooked her bra. She threw everything in the vague direction
     of the laundry hamper and reached under her pillow and pulled out her gray tartan pajamas. She put them on and regarded her
     ruined face in the mirror.
    He was gone. He was in another woman’s bed now. After fifteen months together he’d left her—and she hadn’t had a clue that
     anything was wrong.
    “He’s gone,” she said aloud, her voice sounding surprisingly steady. “He’s walked out on me.”
    The shock of it was still raw, the abruptness of his departure still hard to take in. But of course, if she were perfectly
     honest—and the dead of night was the easiest time to be honest—wasn’t the real shock not that he’d walked out on her but that
     they’d ever gotten together in the first place?
    He wasn’t her type, and she certainly wasn’t his. She’d been aware of him before they’d met—the man who had edited the local
     paper for several years wasn’t averse to having his very photogenic features appear quite regularly in his own society pages.
     He was also known personally to Joseph Finnegan, who owned the bakery where Hannah worked—and if he wasn’t exactly a regular
     customer there, he certainly put in an appearance from time to time.
    All the same, he and Hannah didn’t come face-to-face until she’d been working at Finnegan’s for the best part of ten years—and
     that encounter might not have happened if she hadn’t taken an hour off one day for a dental appointment.
    She’d arrived back at the bakery to find Joseph behind the counter, as usual. He was serving a customer as she pushed the
     door open.
    “Hannah, there you are. Do you know Patrick?”
    His bulk took her by surprise; in the photos you wouldn’t realize quite how big he was. His woody scent was pleasant, if a
     little overpowering. The smile came instantly and looked well practiced.
    “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said, his big, warm hand not so much shaking as cradling hers. Turning back to Joseph.“Where
     have you been hiding her, you scoundrel?” Hannah thought, Flirt, but felt the color warming her face all the same.
    “Hannah works behind the scenes,” Joseph said. “My best baker.”
    “Is that a fact?” Patrick released her hand. His navy tie was slightly crooked, his shirt very white. “I hope he pays you
     well then,” he said.
    She was aware of the numbness around her mouth, the dentist’s injection