“Maybe.” Doubtful. There’s always another to replace the one you send out the door.
I stop at the curtain to Ryan’s room before entering. Deep breath in, Ashlyn. Exhale slowly.
It really pisses me off he still has this kind of effect on me five years after the fact. One encounter. One damn night five years ago and the man can still wreck me today.
Fate is unkind to me. Why the hell couldn’t his body have gone to shit after he stopped playing college ball? Why does he still have to be so damn hot?
Fuck being hot. It doesn’t make up for being an asshole.
“What’s the matter, Ashlyn? Trying to think of a way to explain what you did?”
What. The. Actual. Fuck?
I yank the curtain back and march to his bedside, my hands fisted at my side. “What I did? I know you didn’t actually just say that to me.”
“That got your attention, huh?” His mouth tugs at one corner and the adjacent eye narrows as his brow arches. Holy shit. Jacob makes that exact face…every time the little shit is up to no good.
And now Ryan Briggs is up to no good. I’m sure of it.
Like father, like son.
Releasing July 28, 2016
Duncan Willis should be on GQ, not the co-owner of the company where I work. He's my boss, and he's also arrogant and cocky, knowing how to melt panties with just a smirk. That's why I've avoided him.
I might fantasize about him, but I don't need that in my life.
Until...
Until I catch him—OK, hear him—in a compromising position.
Yes, it was hot, but that's not the point.
I need a date for one weekend. He needs me to keep quiet about what I witnessed.
It's the perfect blackmail...the perfect deal.
Until...
Until one weekend of fantasy leaves me wanting more.
* * *
Read this sexy, predictable, short, hot, dirty, and steamy book and learn how fantasy can become reality! Duncan: The Deal, is a standalone with a guaranteed HEA. Don't miss your next bookgasm.
"What time do you get in?"
I press my blue-tooth closer to my ear, drowning out conversations and traffic, as I emerge from the subway tunnel onto the Manhattan street. The morning sunlight causes me to squint or maybe it's my way to concentrate on what my mother just asked. Damn, if she'd only called a few seconds earlier I'd have been underground and missed her call.
Ugh.
"Get in?" I ask, trying not to let on that I have no fucking idea what she's talking about.
"Thursday, dear. Your dad has an appointment and we want to be sure we can pick you up."
I want to ask again, but if I do, surely she'll figure out that I'm still lost in this conversation. Instead I take it another way. "Dad has an appointment?"
"With his urologist, dear, you know he has that—"
OK. That didn't work. "Mom, sorry to interrupt, but I need to get to work. You were saying?"
"Yes, what time does your flight arrive? You know it's race weekend. I told you not to book a hotel, and if you listened, there's not one available for miles. Besides, we have plenty of room and we want you here with us. I've talked with your father. It's fine for Timothy to stay here, too. I even think...well, if it'll get that man to propose, he can stay in your room."
Like sleeping with someone in my parents' house is erotic?
I shake my head. "Timothy? Mom, we're not going to the race."
We're also not dating anymore, but that's a whole other story.
"Of course not," she replies. "Kurt wants Timothy at the bachelor party. You know I'm not a big fan of parties the night before the wedding. Remember that incident with cousin Bob..."
Fuck! The wedding!
My cousin Scarlet's wedding. My perfect damn cousin.
How did I forget?
I know. I blocked it out.
I don't want to go. I don't want to go back to Indiana and field all the questions about why I'm still not married, why I'm living all the way in New York, why I have a fucking life instead of being pregnant with baby number five at twenty-six years old.
"Mom," I try to interrupt as I push my way through a crowd of obviously lost tourists. "Mom, um, Timothy..."
"Kimberly, you're breaking up. What did you say?"
"We're not..."
"Kimberly Ann, I RSVPe'd for you plus-one. That was six months ago. Oh my lord! Tell me you're not single again! Why didn't you tell me? You know your aunt and uncle paid for a sit-down dinner. The reception is at the Hyatt. It's very formal, place setting and everything. Oh dear lord in heaven, don't tell me that I have to tell them you don't have a plus one."
I take a deep breath and tap the microphone of my blue-tooth. "I-I'm...said...see...going...Thursday...rental car..." I say as I disconnect the call.
Yes, it's a cheap trick. No, we don't have a bad connection. I just don't want to talk anymore. My thoughts are full of dresses and babies, and disapproving looks from my grandmother and mother as I sit at my assigned seat at the reception next to an empty chair.