One Night with Him

By Izzy Williams

A one night stand is supposed to be just that.

That's it, I'm done with men, relationships. My next relationship is going to be a meaningful one with Netflix and my pyjamas.

 

The last thing Charlotte expected was to run into her one night stand while at the hospital. Can Noah change her mind about men and relationships or has her past damaged her too much? With both their pasts getting in their way, its more important than ever to give their full trust to each other. If only they knew how much that trust would have to stretch.

 

A medical romance novel for 18 years and over. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Izzy Williams
• Release date: Jul 10, 2020
• ISBN: 9798201869298

Book preview

Chapter 1

C ome on, shots! Tanya screams, and I groan out loud.  More shots? Can I take any more? I thought that getting hammered may make my night more tolerable, but someone please, please help me escape this bloody place.  The loud music thumps around my ears, making it even more difficult to hear my thoughts.  I want to go back to the hotel room where I can curl up in bed.  I’m in a bad mood, and I’m bad company.

I can’t do more shots, Tan. How many have we had now? I’ve lost count. All I will taste tomorrow is Sambuca and tequila.

She nudges me. That’s when you know you’ve had a good night!

I laugh and shake my head, No, a good night for me is sitting at home in my pyjamas watching Arrow or Supernatural – anything with a hot guy saving people - this is not my idea of a good night.

She frowns. You can’t spend the rest of your life like that - you need to live a little, there is a fun person in there dying to get out, I’ve seen her before, peeping through when we have fun at work, she’s there.

Maybe she is still there somewhere. I can’t remember what she’s like. It’s been that long since she’s been out to play.

I shake my head as Tanya drags me to the bar.  The barman knows us by now. He leans forward and shouts over the din, Shots again?

Tanya makes a whooping noise. You know it!

He grins at her and turns around to get the shots.  We down them, and I grimace.  Tonight has been a disaster from start to finish.  Who has their works’ Christmas Party in January anyway? 

Why the hell did I agree to come on this thing tonight? I scowl at Tanya.

Because I badgered and badgered until you were forced to come to shut me up!

I nod. Yes, that is the bloody truth, bitch!

She nods in the direction of Matt on the dance floor. You can always have a smoochy smooch with Matt if you get bored.

I grimace. No thanks, I’ll pass. Besides the fact that he’s my supervisor, he does not do it for me.

She shrugs. Who cares? He doesn’t have to be Mr Right. He can be Mr Right Now, tonight.

I laugh. Jesus no, never, Tan, please don’t even joke about it. He’s a nice guy but not for me.

I don’t want a guy, any guy.  I like my life as it is – quiet and safe.  I was hoping to slope off after the meal, but escape is futile in this dungeon where this disco is taking place.  I need to get everyone more Sambuca shots - the more hammered they get, the less likely they are to notice my disappearance.  I’m sharing with Tanya, but she has her own key card, so I could sneak off if I get her drunk enough.

Come on, Lotte, let’s go and have a dance.

I think twice about dancing with her. No matter how many shots I’ve had, I’m still conscious that I tower over her petite frame, making me feel huge, but then, most of the girls in here are making me feel huge.  My size sixteen figure feels totally out of place amongst all these young, stunning and slim girls. I’m only twenty-nine and not past it yet . . . but seriously? Half of these girls look underage and so slim and confident—I've never felt so unattractive and large.

I look around for more of our crowd as there are lots of other companies having their Christmas parties here.

You go and dance hun, some of our gang are on the dance floor.  I’m gonna sit here and people watch for a while.

Fine, I’ll be back in a jiff, ok?

I want to be at home, in my pyjamas, reading a good book. Or even at my friend’s house, chilling over a glass of wine and putting the world to rights over episodes of Gossip Girl and Games of Thrones - discussing the merits of being with Jon Snow over Kahl Drogo—anywhere but here!

I'm gonna go up to the room Tan, I've had enough. I shout down her ear.

She starts to shake her head. No way are you going to bed! The night is still young. It’s only eleven-thirty!

She can tell by my face that I'm not going to relent on this, so she changes tactic and starts to beg, "Please...come on, five minutes on the dance floor, and then we’ll get another drink. 

I relent. Fine, come on. I look at her dubiously—doubtful that she’d be able to keep her balance on the dance floor at this moment in time, the state that she’s in.

Yey! she claps her hands and drags me to the dance floor.  I turn around to walk with her, but my feet refuse to move as I catch sight of the most stunning man.  He's gorgeous . . . hot . . . the type of gorgeous that probably knows it.  There is no way you can look like him and not realise it.  But it’s not even his looks - he has a magnetism...something that’s drawing me to him.  Shit, he’s sexy as hell, that’s what.  I may not want a relationship, but I can still appreciate a fine man when I see one! He looks about as out of place here as I do, dressed in an expensive suit as though he's come straight from the office when it’s nearly midnight. He's tall, way taller than my 5’8, I’d say about 6’1 or 6’2", he has broad shoulders, his suit might hide his body, but you know it’s just perfect under there.  He has a shaved head, which goes against the whole refined image he's got going on, chiselled cheekbones and intelligent eyes, eyes that make contact with mine and see me checking him out.  Something shoots through me with his stare. I swallow and look away quickly, link Tanya, make our way to the dance floor, and hope that he's walked past and barely registered me checking him out. 

I don’t feel his eyes stay on me as he watches me walk over to the dance floor. I don’t feel his eyes on me as he watches me meet up with the rest of our gang, or feel them on me all the while I dance, then call it a day on my own and walk back to our table, which is empty and take a seat to watch them all. 

I watch Matt, my boss at the supermarket where I work part-time, the one who has made it clear on more than one occasion that he likes me. He’s been giving me the come on all night.  He's nice enough, the same age as me at twenty-nine, medium build, good looking, kind eyes...he's a nice person . . . gentle and would make a great boyfriend, treat me well, if I was on the market for a boyfriend, which I'm not.  I'm done with boyfriends. After having my fingers burned in a big way, I don’t want to go poking any fire anytime soon—although it has been a while since I’ve been poked myself! Plus, I don’t feel it, the ‘it’ you need to feel when you like someone, the butterflies—but he's nice, so if I ever decide I just want nice, he would be the way to go.  The alcohol tonight seems to have given him confidence, and I don’t want him to say anything; it would make things awkward at work. His eyes are on me more and more, and his gaze is getting more intense with every pint of lager—so I'm doing what any coward would do and avoiding him like the plague.  I’m pretty sure he's the reason I can't relax here tonight.

I move around on the stool, trying to get comfortable and pull at my top so it doesn’t ruffle up, my skinny jeans ride down sat on this stool, and I don’t want to be showing everyone my bottom as though I belong on a building site! I reach into my handbag for my phone to scroll through it, checking on Facebook to see if I've missed anything.  All the posts in my newsfeed these days are from book bloggers recommending the next hot new read.  There’s nothing like losing yourself in a book.

I jump when I hear a smooth voice behind me. Finally . . . I have you on your own.

I spin around, startled and almost fall off my chair.  It’s him.  Mr Suit from earlier.  What the bloody hell is he doing talking to me? He reaches out his arm to steady me on my stool, and as his hand touches my bare arm, my skin warms at his touch and radiates through my body. I look up, and he smiles. His eyes crinkle in the corner when he smiles.

One word. 

Gorgeous. 

I feel nervous and intimidated.  What is he doing here? Unless he’s interested in Tanya and wants me to put a word in with her...yes, that will be it.

I give him a friendly smile. Hello.

He points towards the empty stool beside me at the table.  May I?

I nod and swallow again.  He might not be here to be with me, but I can still enjoy it.  Everything about this man screams well...man, and importance.

Once he's sat down, he places his glass on the table – it looks like whisky - and looks at me.  I needed to come over and talk to you.

Mmmm...his voice is so deep and gravelly.

I nod, waiting for him to ask about Tanya. You want me to put a word in for you?

He frowns. A word in? With what?

I motion towards the dancefloor. With Tanya...you want me to put a word in?

He shakes his head, frowning at me. Why would you think that?

I start to doubt myself and become unsure why he's here if it’s not to get with her.  I...er...I thought...

His dark eyes bore into me as he stares at me in as he slightly shakes his head. He's looking right at me, as in, right at me, like he’s getting inside my head. I need to look away. It’s so intense. 

As lovely as I’m sure she is, no, I'm here because thirty minutes ago I saw a woman that took my breath away.  I don’t want to be here - this is my worst nightmare - but thank fuck I came, because, in all the few times that I have been in a place like this, I’ve never seen a woman that takes my breath away until now.

Did he just say that? I glance around. Is this some kind of joke? I open my mouth and close it again, as I have no idea what to say.  Great Charlotte, he’s going to be wishing he hadn’t come over at all.

I’m stunned.  This beautiful man is here talking to me because he wants to? It’s got to be a case of the good old beer goggles, maybe he doesn’t usually drink. I'm ok looking, but I’m not a head-turner - I’m normal. He must be drunk.

The name is Noah, by the way. He holds out his hand for me to shake it.  Shake his hand? What? Are we at a business meeting?

I feel so awkward, but I do the same and put my hand in his. Heat floods through me again at his touch. His hands are so big.  I look from his hands to his forearm, which is probably one of my favourite parts of a man.  So manly, with the vein protruding out slightly...yum.

Um...Charlotte...Charlie. I give him an uneasy smile.

Charlotte...it suits you. Hearing him repeat my name does something to me. It sounds so sexy. I squirm in my seat.

He carries on.  Looks like you’re having as much fun as I was an hour ago.

I'm intrigued. And what happened an hour ago that brightened up your night?

He smiles. I swallow...Jesus, he's got a beautiful smile Whisky...a lot of whisky. He holds up his glass to indicate his drink.  And now, seeing you.

That explains it - the whisky was before he saw me—definitely beer goggles.  So what? I could never bag a man as gorgeous as him, so why not just go with it? He won't remember talking to me tomorrow anyway! Beer goggles have so much to answer for, but in this case, they might be working in my favour.

I smile at him, and he takes a quick breath in.  You’re like an Angel in here, in this bloody hell hole, you stand out from everyone. Something tells me your not having a good time, though - aren’t you enjoying yourself?

I shake my head slightly and look down at my drink, No, this isn’t my scene, not anymore.  I want to go back to my room. I've been dragged here by my work friends, but as soon as I can slip away and sneak upstairs, I will be gone.

You should do what you want to do. If you want to leave, then leave, don’t let anyone pressure you into staying.  Or...you could always stay and talk to me instead? He raises his eyebrows at me in question.

Any other guy coming up with these lines would be cheesy but not from him, don’t ask me how I know, but I somehow know that he doesn’t say them a lot.  Sincerity is coming through in the things he says, or is it the Sambucas and vodka I've downed?

I take in his every feature - his dark chocolate brown eyes, straight perfect nose, and wide mouth that makes his smile take over all his face.  I love that he towers over me. His big hands play with his glass turning it as he talks to me. I have never found hands so sexy or sexy at all before, but they are fascinating me.  So big, powerful, symbolising all of him.  I bet he's good with those hands! Authority radiates off him. How old is he? He's a man, not a boy.  He’s waiting for a response. Do I want to stay and talk to him? Oh yeah.

How old are you? I blurt out.

How old do you think I am?

I shake my head. Oh no, I never play that game. Men can be offended with that question too!

He chuckles. I'm forty in a few months.  It's impolite to ask a lady her age, so I'm not going to ask, but I can tell by looking at you that I have about fifteen years on you—am I right?

Not quite...I'm thirty in June.

Wow, you look younger.  What date in June? Mine is the twenty-third..

I don’t believe it. The twenty-third, seriously? So is mine!

He looks shocked. Well, it seems we’re twins—give or take ten years.

Is ten years too much of a gap? Like it matters. I'm never going to see him again anyway.

So, you know why I'm here when I don’t want to be—what is your excuse?

He shrugs. "Same reason. We were unable to have a Christmas party where I work before Christmas, so it was suggested to have it in January. Unfortunately, as the most senior here, I'm obliged to hang around, keep an eye on everyone, but no one seems to want to call it a night yet.

You’re not doing a good job of keeping your eye on them right now.  You’re sat here talking to me! I laugh.

Thank God. He mutters and gives me that look again, and smiles at me.  He takes a swig of his whisky without taking his eyes away from me.  Bloody hell, my heart is beating faster. No one has ever looked at me like that—certainly not in a while anyway.

Heat floods my face, embarrassment flushing over me. I look around to see if I can see any of my work friends. They’ll be back soon.  I look back at Noah, and when I do, I forget to breathe.  His eyes are so intense, and the look he is giving me only has one meaning...he wants me.  I find it hard to believe, but there is no mistaking the look in his eyes.

It makes me falter when I try to speak again. I...my friends...they’ll be back soon.

He sighs and looks frustrated, looking around the club, for what I don’t know.  He seems to spot what he's looking for.

Come with me. he stands and holds his hand out to help me down off my stool.

Where to?

Do you feel this? This attraction between us? he asks me

I do - it’s so intense.  I nod.

He leans into me. I need to kiss you.  I need to see if that mouth of yours feels and tastes as good as I imagine, and I need to do it now.  Come on.

Mesmerised by his words, I do as he says. I jump down off the stool to follow him.  He grabs my hand and pulls me through all the people milling around, guiding me around some