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establishing a steady rhythm that would send them into orgasmic bliss in minutes.
    * * * *
    Mara paused at the male groans that filled the campsite when she returned from trying to call Marco. Jacob and Daniel had obviously figured out their differences. She had a feeling Daniel would be packing up his blogging business and moving it across country.
    It wasn’t so easy for her. The end was in sight. They’d achieved their main objective—to show her how wrong Marco was for her. They were right. And last night, that togetherness bullshit, that was just sex talking. She knew better. She was on the road to being dumped as they trekked to their new and wonderful life in Cali.
    The men’s cries echoed hollowly in her middle as she wallowed in her turbulent emotions. This just wasn’t happening. She had to break up with Marco, she was at an end with her roommates, and where did that leave her? Alone. Just where she’d least wanted to be.
    You could still marry Marco, a little voice urged. No, she couldn’t. The marriage would never last.
    She dialed Marco again. She frowned when, in a repeat of her earlier attempt, it didn’t go immediately to his voicemail which meant his phone was on. He just wasn’t answering. His message picked up once more after four rings. Was he avoiding her? Marco always answered. Hanging up, she called her cousin. “Will you come and pick me up? Yeah, right now. Hurry, please.”
    She didn’t want a scene with Daniel and Jacob. She’d just go. Her cousin—bless her!—would deal with her supplies later.
    Her backpack was near the back corner of the tent. As the cries inside grew in volume, she knew neither man would notice her reaching beneath the canvas to pull it out. A few minutes later, she was on her way toward the road to meet her ride. A note left behind on the table, weighted down with a rock, told her lovers: I’m going home.

 
     
     
     
    Chapter Three
     
     
    Rash decisions sucked.
    One lonely night, she’d rashly decided to marry Marco. When she’d been offered hot, raw sex by her hunky roommates, she’d rashly agreed to that, too. And when that looked to be at an end, she’d rashly run away.
    Geez, Mara. Way to trash your life in three easy steps.
    She’d made such a monumental muck of her life, she couldn’t face anyone yet. Instead, she’d chosen to hang out at a hotel, reflecting and ironically ‘centering’ until she summoned up the courage to face her mistakes. Her reckless decisions couldn’t be fixed with hasty action. One thing she couldn’t in all conscience avoid. The impending wedding. She continued to attempt calls to Marco, but he never answered. And there was another problem. Marco was her boss’s best friend. She might as well kiss her job goodbye, too. No job. No home. Way to fuck up, Mara.
    The morning of her would-be wedding dawned disgustingly bright and beautiful. She thought it should be raining. A lukewarm drizzle seemed more fitting than the brilliant sunlight.
    At least, she could count on it being god-awful hot outside so it would match the misery she felt inside. She stumbled into the shower, dressing afterward and downing a few aspirin for her throbbing head. She shoved on her sunglasses and headed for the church. If Marco wouldn’t answer her calls, she’d have to go to him. Breaking it off minutes before the wedding left a foul taste in her mouth, but she had no choice. She couldn’t just fail to show up. Somehow, there had to be a way to pull this out and retain her dignity and possibly her job.
    It bothered her that Marco had neither answered her calls and her messages nor called her. Had he had second thoughts too? Would he even be at the church? Was he truly dodging her calls, or was she being paranoid or projecting her guilt on him?
    Part of her wished he was dodging her. It would make her life easier.
    The church wasn’t far from the hotel, and she got there in minutes only mildly drenched in sweat from the walk through the