Missed Connection: I saw you standing there, and I was struck by your eyes. Gorgeous, but not as gorgeous as your smile.
Thanks to her job at a crazy New Age spa, what should have been a sizzling NYC summer is being hijacked by demanding hippie bosses. To unwind, Sarah spends her nights cruising Missed Connections, dreaming of finding an uber-romantic entry all about her. Of course, the moment she finds that Missed Connection, real life comes crashing down around her in a night of unbridled passion with someone completely different: totally off-limits Jack.
Best. Hookup. Ever.
Gorgeous and wealthy, hot as sin, Jack can give Sarah everything she needs—except an emotional connection. That she gets from her Missed Connection, the romantic stranger who never fails to make her swoon. But there’s only so much of Sarah to go around. Torn between the bad boy she can’t keep and the sensitive stranger who bares his soul online, her heart and body are soon in two very different relationships…or are they?
Ready for a taste of Missed Connections? 🙂
The music is…different. I haven’t heard hardly any of the artists they’re playing, and I’m not sure I like the DJs. But I haven’t been out much lately. Maybe it’s just new music that takes some getting used to. But the next song is as bad as the first. No one’s got time for bad aural—one more crappy song and I’m out of here.
Where’s Jack when I need him? He knows all the songs I like, and I don’t have to ask to hear them played. Guess he spoiled me for regular DJs; I’m getting too used to being a VIP.
Another crappy, overplayed song blares through the speakers, and I’m out, heading for the rooftop patio for a breather. The staircase is narrow and tall and sort of feels like it’s a secret, or you’re not really supposed to come up here.
But I push through the door at the top of the stairs and sigh in relief at the cooler temperature. The rooftop isn’t huge, but bits of greenery make it feel intimate—like a private garden—and only about eight other people are up here. But everyone’s paired up, rubbing it in that I’m here all alone. Now, I almost wish the DJs hadn’t chased me here with their mediocre music. If Jack were here… I should just find Pete. Or go home.
“I’d hate to be the person who put that look in your eyes.”
Startled, I turn toward the familiar voice coming from the shadows in the corner. “Jack?” What a sexy coincidence; I was just wishing for you. I head over to him. “What are you doing here?”
He smiles. “Drinking, dancing. You?” He’s in a black button-down and dark jeans—a more expensive look I’m not used to seeing on him, but one that my lady bits approve of.
I sip my drink. “Same, but the DJ is a raging poseur. I came to cool off. Why aren’t you spinning tonight?”
He smiles. “Pete asked if I wanted to hang out, so here I am with the night off.”
I bump him with my shoulder. “I love how close you guys are.”
He leans closer. “Mostly I say yes to keep him out of trouble.”
His cologne makes me want to press my face against his chest and stay there breathing deeply for an hour or so. I can still feel the place his arm touched my shoulder. I take another sip of my drink, savoring the sharpness of the lime and looking out at the New York skyline instead of staring at Jack. The stars wink out between the clouds, and with the patio’s minimal lighting, the view is incredible. “This place is beautiful. I’m surprised more people aren’t up here.”
He sips his drink and nods, looking out across the city and clenching his jaw.
What’s going on in his head? It’s the question I always end up asking myself. Despite his easy charm, Jack is the quintessential cypher. The things I know about him aren’t personal. I know all the facts and figures and can appreciate his appearance, but I don’t know a thing about what’s inside him. He’s always been a mystery, despite how long I’ve known him. “Have you been here before?”
He nods. “Do you like it?”
I lean against the railing and peer down at the line winding around the block. “Frisk is the new trendy place, I guess.”
“You think so?”
I nod. “It’s got all the right elements. I really wish you were playing though.”
“Should I go talk to someone?”
I smile. “Nah.”
“Why did you want me to play?”
“You know what I like without me having to say anything.” Crap, that came out wrong. “What do you like about playing?” I try instead, even though I know he won’t give much of an answer.
But he surprises me, angling toward me as he considers the question. “I love when I play the right song at the right time and get everyone dancing hard enough to forget everything except the music.”
“There’s a kind of power in that, I guess.”
“I don’t do it for power.” He props his forearms on the ledge and leans on them. I could happily trace the lines of his back with my tongue.
Ugh, get a grip, Sarah. “Why do you do it?”
The seriousness in his eyes almost takes my breath away. It’s like being given a glimpse of something fragile and important. I want it to be tangible so I can take it in my hands and cradle it, hide it from everyone else.
Keep it for my own.
He tips his face up to the sky. “In some ways it’s like a disguise. I get to be a part of things but stay hidden in my booth. People hear what I want them to. They actually listen, and it’s not about who I am. It’s not about me at all.”
I shiver. “It’s nice to lose yourself sometimes. I need to dance off the past couple of days like nobody’s business.”
“Hippie shenanigans?”
I poke at the lime in my glass with my straw. “Shenanigans imply fun, but yeah, the hippies are proving to be less easygoing than I thought they’d be.”
He flips a coaster end over end, one corner at a time, deliberately. God, he has nice hands. “You could come over after this. I’ve got everything set up at home. You and Pete, I mean.” His tone is casual, but I swallow hard, imagining a private party with no Pete.
Jack would play all the songs I wanted while I danced. Maybe he’d dance with me until we were both writhing and sweaty, and then—
“Jack, there you are!”
I turn and take in the slinky brunette in a slinkier dress.
Tamara Mataya is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, a librarian, and a musician with synesthesia. Armed with a name tag and a thin veneer of credibility, she takes great delight in recommending books and shushing people. She puts the ‘she’ in TWSS and the B in LGBTQIA+.
Thanks for having me!
Yes, and complicate me 🙂